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masterjedilenawrites · 3 years

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Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 2

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. First, 2 platonic chapters for set-up/build-up. And then, the story will split into 2 paths depending on your romantic pairing preference: You and Thrawn, or You and Eli.

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 2: The Plan

Pairing: None...yet...

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of bullying

Length: 2k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

The rest of the week saw the three of you using every bit of free time outside your classes and studies to gather information for Thrawn to build a solid plan.

Eli tailed his pesky classmate Arden everywhere, even skipping a class one day to break into his dorm, trying to learn anything about the guy that could be useful to get him involved in the plot. Thrawn analyzed the simulation software and protocols that would be used to administer the tests, mapping out every possible way Commander Burdick could hijack it. And you were the one spying on the Burdick himself. Since the commander didn't seem too interested in your grades, you were able to shadow him without suspicion, and had been able to slip a bug into his offices to eavesdrop on any potential conversations about his plans for sabotage.

Your classmates and the staff were none the wiser. That was the advantage of being social outcasts. Half of them avoided you all like the plague, and the other half already thought you were weird people doing weird things. So it wasn't long before you'd all gotten enough intel to work with.

It was late in the evening at the end of the week. You found yourself in Thrawn and Eli's shared dorm, which looked identical to your own in the opposite wing, because the Empire couldn't bother with things like individuality or comfort. Eli sat on the edge of his top bunk, his legs swinging casually, and his coat unbuttoned to reveal a wrinkled undershirt you knew he hadn't bothered to wash all week. Thrawn paced about in the middle of the room, his long strides only allowing him about four good steps before he had to turn around. He still had his uniform on, boots and badges and all.

You leaned against the railing of the bed, watching Thrawn as he went back and forth. Sometimes he sat still when he was scheming, with his fingers steepled and his gaze seemingly reaching into some unknown dimension beyond your comprehension. That usually happened when he was running through variables that didn't concern you, at least from his perspective. You and Eli had accepted long ago there would always be parts of his plans he would never share with you. He was kind of a control freak like that.

But tonight, he seemed to be more welcoming of collaboration, hence his steady rhythm of pacing in front of you.

"Only one variable remains, as I see it," he was saying. "We understand how the commander will manipulate the system to cause a redundancy in the simulation, thus rendering the test impossible to finish successfully."

You and Eli shared a glance; the only person who truly understood how that was going to happen was Thrawn. He'd tried explaining numerous times but when it came to codes and tech, the two of you weren't able to fully keep up.

"We also know through your investigating," Thrawn motioned to you with what you thought was an impressed look, causing you to feel a little pride, "that the commander plans to only sabotage my test, believing it will be too suspicious if Eli also fails. He will also manipulate his false code to originate from the computer of his former lover Eva Carroway, who currently works in HR. So if an investigation does ensue, it will be traced to her and not him."

You and Eli chuckled under your breaths. It had been a little amusing when you'd discovered Commander Burdick was using this plan to not only undermine Thrawn, but also get revenge on his ex-girlfriend. But even more hilarious was how awkward Thrawn treated the subject. He had been quite perplexed to learn people could be so vindictive after a break-up. And any time he explained that detail of the plan, like he was doing now, he hesitated over his word choice. You couldn't tell if he only pretended to be confused about romantic relations, or if that was truly an area he found himself lost in.

If Thrawn noticed your snickering, he didn't respond to it, only continued to recap the plan. "We have also determined how we will expose the altered code naturally, so it does not cast suspicion on us... What was the word you used?"

"Backfire," said Eli.

"Yes. It would not due to have anyone suspect that we altered the test ourselves, or to have our concerns disregarded altogether. Thus, arranging for the maintenance crew to get a mild case of food poisoning so their performance checks are postponed to occur right before the tests will take care of that variable. At the least, they will fix the altered code and I will take the test as normal. At the most, they will report it and the commander faces expulsion."

"So..." said Eli through a yawn as he stretched. "What's left to work out, then?"

Now it was time for you and Thrawn to share a look.

"Were you not interested in involving your classmate, Arden Fey?" asked Thrawn in his soft, contemplative voice.

Eli shrugged. "Yeah. But Burdick's already got his scapegoat, his ex. So it'll be easier to keep him out of it. Whatever."

You could tell he was trying to be nonchalant. But just this morning, he had spent the entire walk between classes ranting about some new insults Arden had come up with, and how badly he wanted to show the guy up once and for all. You knew your friend wasn't feeling "whatever" about it.

"It's not a matter of ease or difficulty," Thrawn stated plainly. He had stopped pacing and was standing with hands behind his back, highlighting the broadness of his shoulders and the height of his stance. His presence seemed to fill up the whole room, and not for the first time, you were glad to be his friend and not his enemy.

"Yeah," you added in encouragement. "We just have to get creative. Find a way to make Arden a more appealing scapegoat than Burdick's ex. In fact...."

You trailed off as an idea occurred to you. You darted out of the room, surely leaving your two friends perplexed, but you would only be a second. You sprinted down the corridor toward the lifts, where a bulletin hung against the wall with fliers and pamphlets. One notice was a bit larger than the others, a promotion of an upcoming gala event to celebrate the Academy's anniversary. You ripped it off and went racing back to the boys' dorm room.

Eli had come down from the bunk and held a concerned look, probably prepared to follow you if you hadn't returned so quickly. Thrawn was still standing composed, but there was a curiosity in his eyes that made you smile.

You held up the poster in front of your chest. "What do you think the likelihood is of us playing successful matchmakers this week?"

Thrawn understood your idea almost immediately, looking down on you with a pleased smirk. It made you flush a little, to know the Chiss was impressed. You rarely had a chance to contribute good ideas when his mind worked so much faster than yours.

Eli caught on next, and he started to grin, the happiest you'd seen him in a while. His smile was infectious and you grinned back. Happy looked good on him.

"We know Eva's not shy with younger guys," you explained. "Before Burdick, she was fooling around with some intern in the med bay."

"And Arden's vain enough," added Eli. "If he thinks anyone's interested, he'll go for 'em."

"So we get him to ask her to the gala as his date...." you said.

"Burdick sees the two of them together...." said Eli.

"And realizes he can get back at his lover in another way, by pinning the sabotage on another student...." joined Thrawn.

The three of you stood together, proud and satisfied that yet another plan had finally worked out. It was almost worth the stressful studying and petty bullying and all the other unpleasant things you had to endure at this god-forsaken school, just to have fun moments like this with trusted friends.

"We should attend this gala as well," Thrawn said eventually, holding out a hand for the poster. He inspected it thoughtfully. "It is only a few days before the tests, so I hadn't planned to pay it any mind. But now...."

"Yeah, we should make sure Burdick's as jealous as we want 'im," nodded Eli.

You were secretly pleased. The plan was already a win-win, but now you would be able to go to the event yourself, too. You hadn't mentioned your desire to go to either of them before, figuring they weren't interested and not wanting to sound silly if you suggested it. But you did love dancing, and it was so very rare you got a chance to wear something other than your Imperial uniform.

"It's a dance," you noted, in case they couldn't tell by the details on the poster. "We'll need to go in pairs."

"I suppose it would make the most sense for you and Eli to go together," said Thrawn quietly.

You looked between the two, realizing both of them were flushed slightly. Eli's cheeks were dotted with pink, standing out amongst his dark brown features, while Thrawn had more of a purple tint to his face now, a color you'd never seen there before. You could feel yourself growing warm and uncomfortable as well. It was only a dance... only a way for you to enact a much more important plan... but it was the first time your trio had had to engage in anything other than platonic friendship. The balance of your group seemed to be shifting ever so slightly in this moment, and you had no way of knowing if it was for good or ill.

You cleared your throat, pushing away any feelings that might have been brewing in your chest, and instead calling focus back to the mission at hand.

"Actually, I think I'd better go with Thrawn. Whoever doesn't go with me would have to find their own date, and no offense Thrawn, but I think Eli has the better chance of asking someone else."

You hoped they hadn't noticed how hollow your voice sounded, how hard you were trying to keep yourself emotionless.

Eli was pinker than ever. "Uh, I highly doubt that..."

"You're not completely hated around here, you know," you said quickly. "Definitely not with the girls. You're not bad looking, you can be charming if you try, and you're... you know, human." You glanced at Thrawn and added again quietly, "No offense."

Thrawn shook his head. His color and demeanor had already slipped back into his usual neutral self. "No, I agree. Those are the dynamics of our peers and we must work with it. I will take you to the gala, Eli will find his own date, and all three of us will push Arden and Eva together as well. It's a good plan."

You all nodded in agreement. But there was a knot in your stomach, a nervousness you didn't quite understand. You cared very much for both Thrawn and Eli. They were your best friends, your only friends. As a group, you were bonded by your ostracism, protecting and supporting each other on your journey out of this hell-hole.

And separately, you had something special with each, too. You and Eli came from similar backgrounds, and had the same need to disconnect from your surroundings and just have a bit of fun every once in a while. The two of you had spent many late nights together, either hopping between bars, exploring the city, making each other laugh uncontrollably, or quietly sharing the honest thoughts you both buried far too deeply inside. Some nights you'd done all of the above, and returned to your dorm feeling both exhausted and renewed.

But Eli didn't always appreciate the finer things in life, and that's where you connected with Thrawn. He wasn't necessarily an optimist, but he had this way of noticing the beauty that existed everywhere around you, even in the most simple or mundane of moments. Everything had the potential to be interesting. His calm but strong presence had kept you grounded and sane throughout your studies here so far. Sometimes you would talk, other times you would simply be in the same space. And either way, you felt better about life.

You didn't exactly want your relationship with them to change. But you couldn't help but feel this gala would do just that....

Next Chapter: The Preparation >

Blueberry Path | Thrawn x reader

Cowboy Path | Eli x reader

#star wars #thrawn #eli vanto #thrawn x reader #eli vanto x reader #choose your own adventure #friendship #romance #friends to lovers #mitth'raw'nuruodo

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oneweekoneband · 3 years

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her Nebraska (1982)

In July I flew to Massachusetts with a plague on, and I felt that it was wrong, but my mother had begged and I’d been out of work for months. Mornings there I ran in long, uneven ovals on the same roads I’d memorized in high school. There’s no sidewalks, but the few feet of dirt between the craggy pavement and the open mouths of the fields serve all right for a single body in motion. When a truck comes up close from behind, the ground shakes, and I step away bouncingly from the street toward thigh-high yellow weeds and grass, and keep going. I was slowly picking my way back in that dirt, sweat-slick from only a plodding couple of miles in peak summer heat, and sucking the wet cotton of my mask in between my teeth on every inhale, when Taylor Swift announced she was releasing a surprise album produced by the guy from The National. Not the guy from The National, like, the voice, but the guy from The National whose photo was circulated on Twitter earlier this year as some kind of antifa super soldier, which isn’t the case, but would’ve been rad. First, I stopped dead to send some outraged, misspelled text messages, and then I ran home faster than I’d moved in years.

Tall, blonde, patrician pop star Taylor Swift is to me something like a cross-between a wife and a boogeyman. Bound we’ve been since we were really children. Time and its changes haven’t rid me of her, and what’s worse is I have never quite been able to wish they would, though I claim as much all the time. Countless hours of my one wild and precious life have been spent on endlessly analyzing the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s music, the mind that made it, the real world events which influenced it. And though all the while I have known she is only a person, and that people, while each strange and lovely in their own ways, are, in the end, mostly dull, needful in just the regular manner, the fantasy is better, the sick dream of a megalomaniac songstress, curious, thrilling, probably evil, and I choose that. I don’t know Taylor Alison Swift, born to this world in, I presume, the usual way. But my Taylor Swift? I’m a renowned expert. I’ve always eaten up stories—movies, music, celebrity news, the one my grandfather tells about falling off his bike once in Ireland as a boy and his face “cracking open like an egg”—like a starved dog. I’m obsessive about my interests, but not inclined to intense fandom, and certainly not fandom in the mode of the stan. For one, I’m too self-absorbed. But caring intensely for a famous person is falling in love with a ghost, and that’s all right—I mean, what the hell? We’re here together just dying... Let’s enjoy—but is an affair best undertaken with the knowledge that everyone alive has their own complex interiority, as unruly as your own, and that you, a stranger, are not in any real way connected to the lawless, blurry middle of that celebrity, and will never be. It’s freeing and fun to know this. I mean, these people are basically in your employ. Glamorous dollhouse dwellers. Acknowledging that uncrossable distance allows for a different, healthier closeness of pure imagination. My feelings, then, can comfortably be at once both fiercely intense and entirely silly. I am a foremost scholar in the art of the Taylor Swift who exists in my head. The real person raised in Pennsylvania I don’t know at all. I have some conjectures on the matter, and, as with all my conjectures, every hackneyed theory, each picky little opinion, I’m sure they’re perfect, brilliant, just absolutely right, but that’s still all they are. Taylor Swift, figure of the cultural imagination, is the Jodie Comer to my Sandra Oh in Killing Eve, annoying and pretty in frills, taunting me endlessly and holding us trapped together in a dance of most enchanting death. But the real Taylor Swift has favorite bed sheets and a social security number and a British boyfriend, none of which I have any desire to know about, and if I saw her at a restaurant I’d politely avert my eyes before, yes, dive-bombing the group text. There’s nobody on Earth I’d stand in line to speak to, but then I’ve been speaking to a certain figment of Taylor Swift for nearly half my life.

I went to a Taylor Swift concert the night before I moved into college in 2009. My father’s work friend, firefighter by day, near professional gambler by night, got comped tickets to the Fearless Tour stop taking place at the nearby casino, and he let me have them as a reward, mainly, for happening to be seventeen. Live in-person and performed acoustically, “Fifteen” made me cry. A few years after that, in the thick, sticky part of my first post-college summer, I wrote approximately twenty-three million words about her in these very pages. (”Pages”) At that point, Taylor’s most recent release was 2012’s Red, and the work I produced that long ago July about Taylor and her career, writing I was fairly pleased with at the time, feels now, besides just being extremely clearly written by a twenty-one year old, strange to me for the way it favors the sweet over the sour almost uniformly. There is a wholesome kind of ardor in that writing which maybe I’ve outgrown the ability to hold. Or maybe Taylor just proceeded to spend the next half a decade plus releasing one bad single after another, and it was taste—and trespasses against taste—and not some shift in my nature which altered the tenor of our bond. I have real love for my particular image, gleaned from public statements and published art, of smart, bizarre famous woman Taylor Swift, and I admire the bulk of her output very much. I’m just no longer so inclined to fawn. This is not to say I am here to offer a Taylor Swift hate screed. I couldn’t swing it, and, anyway, I’m not a pop feminist-for-hire circa 2010. But we’re older now. Things are different. At twenty-eight, twenty-nine this month—Taylor will, also this December, turn thirty-one—I regard Taylor Swift warily, like an ex with whom you have a tentative friendship, perpetually on the brink of falling one way or the other into hatred or delight, only to wobble back the opposite direction again at the slightest provocation, but still, despite best efforts, even, I regard her all the time.

folklore was released at midnight on July 24th 2020, but I was at a cabin in rural Vermont without Internet or cell service. I drank Bud Light seltzers with my mother while watching the eerie pandemic return of Major League Baseball, and when I got into a strange bed there I stewed, knowing there were people out in the world all over who were hearing Taylor Swift songs I never had, and that this was a fundamental wrong, a disruption in the balance of the universe. I listened to it the next morning in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot.

And folklore is great. That’s the terrible thing. Slightly less great, maybe, than some people have insisted, tricked, I think, by just the pronounced shift in sound. But it’s great. A little gift I asked for a thousand times and was still surprised to get, like a wife who didn’t expect her henpecked husband to ever follow through and buy the paraffin wax hand bath as-see-on-TV. For years, I’ve been halfheartedly insisting that Taylor had a great album in her. I’d say it even, perhaps especially, while she stubbornly fed me gruel. Or worse, gruel with the occasional whiff of something better. With a ripe, little raspberry dropped into the slop. The bright, villainous thrill of “Getaway Car” made me believe Taylor, my Taylor, was in there somewhere under the lacquer of sequins and synth, which, while not objectionable by default, seemed a costume, and an ill-fitting one. The lived-in world of “Cornelia Street” made those old scars sting. That gay “Delicate” video. When she did “Call It What You Want” on SNL and played guitar while wearing an ugly sweater. If the abominable “ME!”, lead single off Lover, was the stick, 1989’s “Clean” was the carrot. I was Charlie Brown, and Taylor my Lucy, yanking the football back again and again. Over drinks I still yelled that Taylor Swift’s next album would be, “her Nebraska”, referring to my favorite Bruce Springsteen record, and learned to live with that egg on my face for good. I suppose I even came to like it. There was something inherently funny in taking up, like, “blind faith in the as of yet untapped greater artistic potential of massively wealthy and popular singer Taylor Swift” as my totally inane personal cause du jour, and eventually it was a bit, a gag I performed to be obstinate and didactic, but way down somewhere awful near my kidneys I meant it the whole while. And then she did it. A pandemic befell the world and amid a sea of human suffering Taylor Swift remembered she can write. She wrote, and with a massive, crucial assist from Aaron Dessner, whose music on this record is sometimes so beautiful it actually angers me, as the last thing I needed in already perilous times was to be made to try and marry my uniquely perverse emotional responses to beloved divorced dad band The National and fucking Taylor Swift, she made an album which, if not her Nebraska, per se (I’ve come to realize that a major part of believing Taylor Swift will one day make an album I find as quietly devastating and gorgeous as Nebraska is knowing that no album will ever actually be Her Nebraska... That each will, rather, to me, be more and more evidence that it’s coming still, more proof that the limit is untouched, on and on ad infinitum, or at least until the seas take us into a place of salty peace.) is a shocking credit to all my hard-fought and deluded confidence. folklore is great. This fact has made me feel almost equally as disoriented from my understanding of the world as the time-melting COVID-19 lockdowns have, and it turned my Spotify year in review annual collective AI humiliation kink thing into a glaring indictment of my mental state, but still, I mean... It’s great.

In talking about folklore a bit this week, there are a number of specific topics I intend to cover—what a thrill it is to hear Taylor say “fuck”; Taylor’s terrifying birth chart; the astoundingly perfect bridge of “the last great american dynasty”; “because my ass is located at the back of my body”; the bit in last year’s “Lover” where deranged WASP Taylor Swift implies that to “leave the Christmas lights up til January” is some signifier of being a love-struck bohemian, when actually everyone who doesn’t employ domestic staff to take their lights down does this; how reputation is the best of the Taylor Swift records released in the latter half of the 2010s, actually, and the people who can’t see that are cowards—but intend mostly to let the muse move me where she will. Against the advice of my better angels, she—that tie-in marketing eldritch terror—always does.

#taylor swift #folklore

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imaginariumrpc · 3 years

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okay so the lovely @imbicilite / @whitrph and i were talking and it gave me the idea and we thought it was a great idea to spread it around so here’s how it goes: when talking with someone about pretty much anything tbh, but especially for something that could potentially be triggering, communicate with color codes based on city traffic lights ! GREEN means it’s good to talk about these things and you’re not feeling triggered by the topic, YELLOW means to slow down or stop talking about the topic at for now while RED means to stop the conversation about the topic immediately until green again where the conversation can divert into another topic or they feel safe to talk about it again !! this is EXTREMELY important, because it’s a way to alert others that you’re going to be talking about something that could possibly upset someone because of the subject matter, especially for those who may get triggered by a certain topic - even without you realizing it because squicks and triggers can honestly be anything, it could be different words or phrases or certain topics - and can cause severe anxiety in those affected, even panic attacks or flashbacks, and because we want to be considerate and respectful towards one another, it’s important that we use these to help our friends and fellow rpers know that we’re going to be posting or talking about something they might not want to see or talk about, and it’s of utmost importance to make them feel safe, it’s best to use this to be a more supportive friend and a member of the rpc!!

on a sidenote, i’m also here to tell you about tone indicators !! keep in mind that i didn’t come up with nor invent the concept of tone tags itself, but it was being spread around for a while now and i’d figured i’d talk about it !! essentially, tone indicators are used to indicate if the person is joking, being serious, etc., neurodivergent people often have trouble conveying and understanding emotion and tone through written text, using tone indicators is really helpful for neurodivergent people to make it easier for them to read/convey, it is also very helpful for people with anxiety. i encourage anyone who reads this to also type the meaning of the tone tag ( i.e: i love you !! /p for platonic ), so it is more accessible for neurodivergent and disabled people, like those who use screen readers.

“why should we use tone tags?” one might ask, but as an autistic, disabled and otherwise neurodivergent person myself, sometimes i don’t always get my friends and fellow mutual’s tones by their message but when they use tone indicators, it helps me understand and, not to mention that it can be really helpful and avoid misunderstandings. i would also like to note that NOT ALL neurodivergent people want you to use tone indicators on them, so if they don’t want you to use tone tags on them, please respect their wishes.

“i don’t like tone tags!” one might add, well, okay... but don’t make fun of the people that use them, it’s not a big deal, and if you’re a neurotypical who insists on not using tone tags when a neurodivergent person clearly asked you to, get your head out of your ass.

“using /j at the end of a joke ruins it!!” one might bitch, and okay but... it might be ruined for you, but it still makes me laugh, personally, so please try and get used to it, and not to mention, what’s more important: making sure you’re clear with your tone so that there’s no misunderstandings or throwing a fit just because the joke’s ruined for you?

additionally, some other things to keep in mind !! please do not mock the use of tone tags, you may not need them but some people do, not everyone can tell when something is a joke, when someone’s either being platonic, romantic or sexual in intentions, etc.,, especially when there’s no visual cues or tones of voice to help us, just be nice about it, it’s... really not hard, man. if you don’t use a tone tag and someone reads the tone of your statement incorrectly, do not get upset with them or laugh at them for not getting it - that is perpetuating ableism and/or sanism, whether you intentionally intend it or not. just kindly clarify and next time, keep in mind that tone tags are very helpful for neurodivergent, disabled and people with anxiety disorders. using a tone tag isn’t an excuse to be mean either, you can’t just say something mean or not cool and then put /j ( “joking” ) after it to get away with it, don’t be an ass. if you’re saying something that could be anxiety inducing for others, i would highly recommend putting the tone tags at not only the end but also the beginning of that post. do not intentionally use tone tags incorrectly “as a joke”, to confuse people, etc., the entire point of tone tags is to clarify, not confuse people, if you intentionally use them incorrectly, you’re an ass. keep in mind that no one has to use all the tone tags, use what you’d like, respect others who use what they would like, use them however feels rights to you. for me personally, sometimes i use multiple, sometimes only one, or sometimes none at all, just do what feels right, depending on who i’m talking to and how long i’ve known this person or group of people i’m speaking to, it’ll be fine, and if someone asks for clarification on what you mean, that’s okay, kindly clarify for them. additionally, please be patient if people don’t know what tone tags are, someone might not even be aware of what they are and that’s not their fault, just patiently explain it to them or link them to a source !! education always helps !! please don’t use “/srs or serious” as a joke, some neurodivergent and/or disabled people don’t need you to use three tone tags, and in my case, i’m presuming you’re neurotypical if you’re doing that when conversing with me, but what i’m trying to say is it looks like you’re babying us neurodivergents / disabled folx, so try to use only two tags ( that is, if that person is okay with it !! ), because some people don’t need you to use three tags.

please note that the following aren’t every single example out there and there are different terminologies in different languages, but they are important, a few examples of these are:

“/j = joking / used when saying something in a joking manner, “so im pretty much the president of oreos /j”,

“/hj = half joking / used when saying something that’s kind of a joke but kind of serious / “well,,,,, im usually right /hj” /

“/s or /sarc / refers to the opposite of what you really want to say / “i just [clenches fists] love...... being sad..... /s”,

“/srs / used when saying something you really mean / “i really appreciate you /srs””,

“/nsrs = not serious / used when saying something not too seriously / “you’re the worst /nsrs”,

“/lh = lighthearted = used when something’s said lightheartedly / “hEY LEAVE ME OUT OF THIS /lh” / i’d say something like this when me and my friends would get into a silly argument and they’re trying to ask my opinion on a topic”,

“/ij = referring to something that’s only understood by people with special knowledge about something, typically only a small group of friends or a group of people would be aware of, those outside of the group would most likely be confused by it or not find it funny in the same way people within in the group would / “aAAAAAAAAA MY NUGGIES!!!!! /ij””,

“/ref = a reference to media, usually movies, tv, music, etc., “yOU SHALL NOT PAAAAAAAASSSSSSS /ref”,

“/t = teasing, use when teasing someone or provoking someone, often playfully, “aiight sure mx idk wtf im doin /t”,

“nm = not mad, to indicate you’re not actually mad or upset about something / “ow... i felt that /nm”,

“lu = a little upset / used when about about something or someone, but not too upset / “oh... that sucks /lu”,

“/nbh = “nobody here” = often used when talking about something vague to ensure your friends it’s not indirectly to or about them / “sometimes i just wanna..... tell someone to shut the fuck up /nbh”,

“/nay = not at you / used when saying something but not meaning it at the person you’re responding to / “god i can’t stand lame people /nay”,

“/ay = “at you”, make the person aware you’re addressing them”,

“/g or /gen = used when saying or asking something for real / “i’m proud of you /g” or “have you watched the news?? /gen”,

“/th = threat, used when giving a genuine threat / “if you don’t stop, i’ll block you /th”,

“/p = platonic, a friendship type of love, used when saying something with platonic intentions / “i love you /p”,

“/r = romantic intentions, typically of partners when saying something with romantic intentions / “i love you /r””,

“/a = alterous, an attraction best described as wanting emotional closeness without necessarily being at all or entirely platonic and/or romantic, used when saying with alterous intentions / “i love you /a””

“/m = metaphor / used when saying something metaphorically / “god you’re a shining star /m””

“/li = literal / used when saying something literally / “i hate pears /li””

“/rh = rhetorical / a question asked in order to create a dramatic effect or to make a point rather than to get an answer / used when saying or asking something rhetorically / “who cares? /rh””

“/hyp = hyperbole, exaggerated statements or claims not meant to be taken literally ; “i have a million things to do today”

“/sx = sexual intent, used when meaning something in a sexual way”,

“/nsx = nonsexual intent, used when meaning something in a not sexual way”,

“/pos = positive / used when saying something and meaning it in a positive way / “omg im gonna cry /pos”, implied they’re crying for a happy reason”,

“/neg = negative / used when saying something and meaning it in a negative way / “omg im gonna cry /neg”, implied they’re crying for an upsetting reason”, and

“/neu = neutral / used to show that what you’re saying is neutral or that you feel indifferent about it / “yeah i don’t care man do what you want /neu”, you don’t care about something but not in a mean or a negative way, you’re just indifferent”.

on a final note, HERE is a list of tone tags both in english and in other languages ( namely italian, spanish, portuguese, french, polish, german, lithuanian, serbian, dutch, indonesian, romanian, bulgarian, russian, hebrew, japanese, mandarin and korean !! ) and HERE are the list of sources about the content of tone tags !! i wish everyone reading this a lovely day !!

#** blog; mod angie.#** blog; mod post.#** blog; okay to reblog.#tw; long post #tw; sex mention

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nicknederson · 5 years

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you know what i want?

a nancy drew reboot of the old mysteries with a modern take similar to the first person perspective of the nancy drew diaries

so anyway i wrote the first chapter of secret of the old clock (edit: chapter two; chapter three; chapter four)

"Can you wash cashmere?"

“Nancy Drew.”

“Don’t yell at me. It was a joke, Bess Marvin.” Not a very good one, I’d admit. But lately, Bess was on edge about her cousin’s upcoming wedding. I could have cracked the best joke of the century and she would have told me she didn’t have time for humor because she had to focus on flower arrangements. I seriously couldn’t even remember what cousin was getting married. But I was being a good friend. Which is why I was here. At the department store. Picking out our rehearsal dinner outfits.

“Nancy, I cannot deal with this right now,” Bess said with enough dramatic flair to star in a school play. That was one of her new favorite words- cannot. I guess can't just wasn't cutting it anymore. "I have a bridesmaid dress fitting in about ten minutes and I'm pretty sure I gained about ten pounds so they're going to be making even more alterations to it!"

"Maybe stop eating your weight in chocolate-covered strawberries," I tried.

"Oh, what do you know?" Bess complained. "Just buy whatever off the rack and you can return it if I don't like it."

"Yeah, I can return it," I said about as dryly as I could manage. "Because I clearly don't have anything else to do with my life." I really didn't. “But Bess, I think you’re taking this a little too seriously. Laura-“

“Lily.”

“Lily probably doesn’t want you stressing this much about the wedding,” I said. “I mean, you’re a bridesmaid. Not the maid of honor.” I had more of my speech. All about how weddings were archaic and really just a means to trap women in a cycle of impossible standards and unnecessary self-punishment.

“Yeah, that’s great, Nancy. Get me something blue. It’ll match my eyes.” And then she hung up. Well, so much for my speech. It was a good one, too. George Fayne- Bess’s cousin who wasn’t the Lily side of the family and my other best friend- would have liked it. Unfortunately, George was up in the mountain for a summer sports camp and could be reached by pigeon more reliably than cell phone. And here I was- shopping for clothes at our sleepy town of River Heights’s only department store right back at home. No big summer plans or schemes of grandeur before school started again.

That said, I couldn't really complain. Summer was supposed to be the best thing in the world when you were sixteen and didn’t have much to do. Plus, I did need to do some shopping for new clothes, anyway. And I had the benefit of my dad being nice and footing the bill for me. I was originally supposed to get a job this summer- something underpaid, underappreciated, and with a silly uniform presumably in the form of a hat shaped like a hot dog-, but that didn’t happen. Simply put, I forgot. There were probably applications buried somewhere in my room.

I would pay my dad back, don’t get me wrong. But for the time being, I preferred the term ‘appreciated’ to ‘spoiled rotten’. Though that term could easily be applied to two girls I happened to spot talking to a sales associate one aisle over. The place that I picked to shop at wasn't exactly high-end, but it obviously wanted to be. And that was also a fitting description for the two girls.

"This is abhorrent," one of them was snarling at the poor sales rep. Both of them looked to be about my age, but this one just looked older. Maybe it was her greasy hair, maybe it was her major overbite- personally, I thought it was both. She was short, stout, and angry in contrast to the rather vapid-looking girl standing next to her with her eyes sort of glazed over. She was rail thin and sort of pretty if you looked at her from exactly the right angle. Potentially on a full moon with the planets properly aligned and an eyepatch over one eye to make her seem further away from you than she was. "Do you know who we are?"

I'll admit it- I was curious. I have this natural inclination to be nosy and it's gotten me into a few weird situations. But I love drama as much as I love intrigue so I was all ears for this conversation. Pretending to peruse a rack of ugly skirts nearby, I expertly eavesdropped on the conversation. "My apologies, Miss Topham," the sales rep sputtered out. "But I was helping someone else until just now and-"

"My sister and I are about to be very rich!" the stout girl spat. I don't think the tall skinny one knew how to use her mouth to form words. "And we will remember how awful your service is when that happens, do you hear me?"

I will also admit to another weakness of mine- I hate watching people get treated unfairly. It was what made me stick up for kids getting picked on on the playground since I could first walk two steps in front of me. And what was happening a few feet away from me definitely looked like bullying. So when the shorter sister sent the sales rep scurrying off to find something for her, I continued to pretend like the ugly skirts were actually the best thing I'd ever seen just to make sure they didn't do something else awful to the poor sales lady. It didn't take very long for them to do exactly that. "What is that?" the short one harped when the sales rep presented her with a dress. "Isabel, have you ever seen something more hideous?"

The dress wasn't bad. It was a cute powder blue slip that had tulle design near the top of it. It was something Bess might like- especially because it was blue. Still, the taller girl- Isabel- nodded fervently to her sister's claim. Keeping an amicable expression was clearly the sales rep's greatest achievement for the day. "Oh, but this is just in off the designers from Paris. It's haute couture." I wasn’t much of a fashion plate, but I could tell that probably wasn’t true. I wasn't going to fault her for trying. She probably made commission.

Still, the stout sister stuck her nose up at it like it were covered in dog poo. "I don't know what that means, but it certainly doesn't mean 'even mildly fashionable'," she threw out before snatching the dress away from the sales rep. "Go find us something else that doesn't make our eyes hurt."

I could tell by the sales rep momentary slip in composure that that was not her usual job. She practically slunk off to do the girl's bidding and didn't look too happy about it in the process. Meanwhile, Isabel peered at the dress with her big, dewy eyes while her sister held it up and sneered at it. "It's not too bad," she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear it from where I was lingering near the ugly cardigans. I don't know why they thought putting them next to the ugly skirts was a good arrangement. "Mama would like it." Isabel's voice was worse than her face- a high, reedy voice that sounded sort of like a kazoo that someone had left in the sandbox.

Her sister checked the price tag on the supposedly 'ugly dress' and scoffed. "It's too expensive. Daddy would throw a fit if we started spending all of old Crowley's money before we even got it." Now that was an interesting sentence. "But we can just make an adjustment." An even more interesting sentence. Coupled with the fact that she reached up one grubby hand to rip some of the tulle on the dress right off had me nearly drop my jaw in shock. "There," the squatter sister cooed, seemingly pleased with herself. She switched back to sour-faced a second later when the sales rep returned with an arm full of dresses. "We've changed our minds. We'll take this one." She pointed to the blue dress in her hands. "But we will not pay full price."

The sales rep looked like she'd just been punched. "But that's one of a kind!" she said, clearly flustered. "It's the only one in the store."

"Well, it's damaged," snapped the stout sister. Isabel just stood by blank-faced. I realized she kind of looked like a ferret. Her sister, on the other hand, was just a plain rat. "We want 25% off."

"But-" the sales rep couldn't even finish her sentence. I couldn't blame her.

"Where is your manager?" the stout sister trilled. "I demand to speak with him."

At that exact moment, a balding man walking by reeled around on his heel- face serious. "I'm the manager," he announced. "What seems to be the problem here?"

The sales rep went pale as the shorter girl peered at the bald man. "Your associate here just tried to sell us a damaged dress at full price," she insisted.

"No, I didn't!" the sales rep yelped. She snapped her mouth shut the moment her manager levelled her with a look. The 'how dare you be rude to this customer' look that every retail worker feared.

"I'm very sorry, miss," the manager said with a bow of his head. "We'll give you a discount if you'd still like the item. And we'll even pay for the damage to be repaired by a top quality seamstress."

From the looks of the dress, it didn't even deserve that much. But while Isabel had a rather self-satisfied look on her face, her sister didn't look like she was done. "One more thing," she said sweetly. Granted, her attempt at 'sweet' reminded me of black licorice that melted on a dirty sidewalk. "You should take the fee for the repair out of her salary." She pointed at the sales rep and the woman visibly looked ready to faint. "It's only fair."

The manager hesitated for a second before he nodded. "Of course-"

I'd had enough. With a funny little hop, I was over to the group in seconds. "Excuse me," I called out. I flashed a smile- hopefully not looking super awkward. "Yeah, hi, I was just over there and saw the whole thing. She-" I pointed to the sales rep, "Did not try to sell them a damaged dress. They-" I pointed to the two sisters who were giving me the evil eye. "Ripped it when she wasn't looking to try and get a discount."

I could tell I was the sales rep's new best friend. And that I was the Topham sisters' new worst enemy. "She's lying!" the short sister shouted. "I would never do something like that."

Figuring she'd say that, I grabbed her wrist- turning it to reveal some small blue strings of fabric on her palm. "You have some fabric on the hand you ripped it with," I provided fluidly. "And you'll see that there is also some on the floor by your feet. Not anywhere else on the floor- meaning that the dress was only ripped and losing threads right around here."

The girl jerked her hand back as her face went bright red. Her sister looked ready to bolt straight out the door. "I don't know who you think you are-"

"Given the evidence," the manager coughed, interrupting them. "I'm going to have to ask you pay for the full price of the dress you damaged."

The short sister looked like her face was going to explode. "I don't want it!" she shouted. Some other shoppers were starting to linger around the spectacle she was making the same way I had. And of course, the manager was quick to notice.

"I'm sorry, but you damaged the dress so you must buy it," he insisted. "And then I have to ask you to never set foot in my store again."

It seemed a little rash, but the short sister's reaction was worse. She straight up threw the dress onto the ground. "I won't buy that! You can't make me!" Then she stormed off- her sister trailing in her angry wake all the way to the door.

Once they were gone, the sales rep gave a sigh of relief. "I can't thank you enough," she told me. "The repair for that would have cut my pay more than half!"

I just stuck with smiling. "It's no problem," I assured her. "If anyone had been around to see how awful they were to you, they'd have done the same thing." That didn't seem to stop the sales rep from looking at me like I’d accessorized with a halo and matching wings that morning.

"Regardless," the manager spoke up, clearing his throat again. "We're still going to have to do something about this dress."

"Wait-" I reached forward a took a hold of the dress to take a look at the tab. "I'll take it."

The manager looked just as shocked as the sales rep did. "But it's damaged," the manager had to remind me.

"It's not too bad," I assured him. I touched some of the ruffles that the shorter Topham had ripped. "I could probably fix it myself."

"Well," the manager huffed. "At least let me give you a complimentary discount. Both for your help in exposing those two young ladies as crooks and for helping Loralei here."

I didn't argue. I just considered it a bonus. As Loralei rung me up with the 50% discount, I couldn't help, but poke my nose even further into other people's business. You know, as I'm wont to do. "Who were those girls anyway?" I asked. "I mean, did you know them?" I’d never seen them in school before over at River Heights High. After that display, I really didn’t want to.

I could tell by Loralei's face that she did. I could also tell she didn't really want to reveal that information. But I just waited patiently until she caved. Despite everything that had just happened, Loralei was still a sales rep- they loved to gossip about customers. "Those were the Tophams. They've been in here before. Ada and Isabel." Knowing that Isabel was the skinny one, I assumed Ada had to be the stout one. It was fitting because I had never heard of someone with a more unfortunate name. Very invocative of covered wagons and long trips overland with plenty of dysentery. "Don't get me wrong, they spend money when they're here so they're technically good customers. But what you just saw was pretty much the standard fare for dealing with those two."

I just nodded along like this was all news to me and I was a completely impartial party. "I think I heard them mention something about an... old man Crowley?" I had, in fact, heard that, but Loralei didn't need to know that.

At the mention of the name, her eyes went wide. "Oh, you're from around here, are you?" I nodded. "I’m from a town over- in Hayworth. It’s been the subject of debate around there for the last few months!" She paused to look around for other customers before leaning across the counter to elaborate. "See, Josiah Crowley was this eccentric old man who lived around here. He never really had a home- always stayed with relatives no matter how distant- but he was supposedly loaded up to the eyeballs. Well, the last family who got stuck with him was the Tophams- Richard and his wife Cora. And when Crowley passed away, they came forward with a will that gave all his properties, money, and stocks to them!" I made the appropriate face so that she knew I found this just as shocking as she did. "Normally, who cares about those sorts of things, but the Crowley will just struck so many people as strange. He wasn't really a big fan of the Tophams. Fact, they hated him up until they found out he was dying and they'd profit from it. But Crowley used to promise a lot of his other- much nicer- relatives that they'd live comfortably after his death." Loralei gave an unaffected shrug. "Those poor people will never see a dime. A few of them were even contesting the will."

"Really?" I didn't have to feign interest now. I was definitely interested in all this talk of a mysterious will. Hayworth was a little town off the side of a little town- that kind of drama was uncommon for such a sleepy place. And I could swear the name Crowley sounded familiar. Not just ‘two seconds ago when I asked about it’ familiar, but ‘I’ve heard it somewhere before, but didn’t pay too much attention to it’ familiar. "Do you think they stand a chance?"

Loralei gave me a level sort of look as the machine spat out a receipt. "I don't think so." She ripped the receipt off and handed it to me. My 'savings' happened to be in the triple digits and I was sure Bess would just love her new rehearsal dinner dress. "Crowley was a weirdo and not all there on a good day. Chances are, those Tophams coerced him into re-writing the will in their favor." She put a manicured finger to her lips. "But you didn't hear that from me."

I smiled back. "Of course not."

#is it considered fanfiction if it's a concept that the publisher actually needs to do?#no it's called brilliance #i completely used up all my breaks at work just typing up the first few chapters of this #nancy's sixteen which is in direct violation of my own sacred drew canon rules #but i also figured it was a good age for this type of mystery #and ninety percent of the updated plot #this is like the unholy mix of both revised and unrevised sotoc #i planned for chickens

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here4theheartbreak · 5 years

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AO3 Link!

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: NamKook (Namjoon/Jungkook)

Tags: Smut, fluff, getting together, first time, virgin!Jungkook, bottom!Jungkook, top!Namjoon, bareback

Summary: Jungkook has had a crush on the leader of BTS since forever. Now that Namjoon is helping write his solo for the upcoming album, this could be his perfect chance.

Word Count: ~4.5k

A/N: Written for @softjeon for the @kwritersworld Spring Fic Exchange! I hope you like it!

“You can’t possibly think I’m ready for this,” Jungkook argued. He was sitting next to Namjoon, staring down at the leads of their production team and their boss himself.

“The beat is perfect for you, Jungkook,” Namjoon tried. “We can write something really nice. You can do this. You were beautiful with Begin.”

“But this is different. Begin was— It wasn’t this big.”

“You’re ready for it,” Jungkook,” Adora pressed, offering a comforting smile despite Jungkook’s panicked face.

“I—“

“I’d be honored to put together the lyrics for you,” Namjoon said. “Please say yes.”

Jungkook’s shoulders sank a little. He glanced at the rest of their group, his ragtag family over these years. They were all smiling warmly, waiting for his response. His gaze fell on Namjoon, who’s eyes were glued to his face.

“Okay. I’ll do it. May I listen to the track again?”

Namjoon slapped the table in excitement, beaming at Jungkook’s answer. The music began to play again and Jungkook closed his eyes, letting it wash over him and already trying to get a feel for it, despite there not being any words yet. He trusted Namjoon to handle that beautifully. Namjoon handled everything with a grace and beauty that Jungkook admired and adored. More than, if he was being honest with himself.

Childhood crushes normally faded. At least that’s what Jungkook was always told. He was still a kid, barely into puberty, wide eyed and star struck, when he met Namjoon and the others. He’d had a vague idea that maybe he wasn’t as “normal” as his fellow male classmates even then; he didn’t understand the appeal of dating women or even what was attractive beyond the aesthetic beauty that they - like other humans - possessed.

However, he could easily see the appeal of dating - and more - one of the handsome guys he went to school with. Still he could deny it. Just a phase, a silly confused feeling. And then he met Namjoon.

Choosing a company to sign with was a big deal. Even at his young age, Jungkook knew that the wrong company could shatter his dreams. So, picking BigHit based on the way his heart skipped a beat at Kim Namjoon’s dimpled smile probably wasn’t the best way to make a potentially life altering decision. It turned out for the best, but in hindsight, Jungkook had to admit he probably wasn’t thinking with the right head.

Jungkook knew he didn’t stand a chance with the beautiful rapper he’d fallen head over heels for. Firstly, he was a child compared to Namjoon and he knew it. Namjoon was smart and beautiful and talented and perfect. Jungkook’s strengths included being able to consume two kilograms of bulgogi without puking and play video games for thirty hours straight with only one bathroom break. Still, a boy could dream.

It wasn’t as if his crush was detrimental in any way to the group. In fact, it improved his work ethic tenfold, as he sought to impress Namjoon at every turn.

Only one member knew about Jungkook’s dirty little secret, and that was Jimin. He hadn’t meant to confess to him, but Jimin was much more observant than he let on, and confronted Jungkook one evening in their bathroom. Much to Jungkook’s surprise, Jimin wasn’t angry nor judgmental. He promised to keep Jungkook’s secret and be his confidant, but warned Jungkook to be aware of his gazes, as the heated looks were the main reason he’d noticed something less than friendly going on.

Years passed, and Jungkook’s crush remained. By the time they’d established themselves as a group with some staying power, Jungkook had accepted his crush had found the same foothold. It was sticking firmly in his heart, a steady ache that was both familiar and painful. A growth in the deepest chamber of his heart that was inoperable, but Jungkook had yet to decide if it would ultimately be fatal.

***

Two weeks later, Jungkook was stretched out on the floor of the practice room, scrolling mindlessly through the news on his phone. Jimin was next to him, beanie slung haphazardly over his eyes as he did his best to catch a few minutes of rest before the inevitable practice began once more.

“Has Namjoon-hyung talked to you about the song?” Jimin mumbled.

“Hm? Oh, no. He’s been quiet about it.”

“You should check in.”

Jungkook half shrugged. “I don’t wanna bother him. Or seem to eager.”

“You are eager. I know it.”

“I am. It’s huge. The fans are gonna be impressed if I do well. I’m just...” Jungkook sighed and shrugged again.

“He’ll probably stay after to do work on it tonight... You should stop in,” Jimin encouraged.

Jungkook nodded, pocketing his phone and flopping his face down on Jimin’s shoulder. “Fine, I’ll check in,” he agreed.

Jungkook knocked softly on Namjoon’s door before sticking his head in. Namjoon looked back, beaming brightly. “Jungkook. Come in.”

“I wanted to check in. The— The song, how’re you... I don’t want to sound pushy but Jimin-hyung recommenced. And I just—“ Jungkook closed his mouth and smiled sheepishly when he saw Namjoon smiling patiently at him.

“Relax. I’m glad you came by, actually. I was going to text you to do so.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No. Come sit.”

Jungkook did as was asked of him, his brow furrowed. Namjoon opened a notebook in front of him that was filled with chicken scratch. Bits of lyrics, phrases, words, doodles, all blended together into a hodgepodge that Jungkook was sure no one could translate except Namjoon.

“What’s up?”

“I want your opinion. I feel like I have a few lines that work, but this is your song.”

“You’re the better writer.”

“Ah, Jungkook.” Namjoon reached over, giving Jungkook’s wrist a squeeze. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat, a common occurrence in his years living with Namjoon. He smiled shyly and shrugged one shoulder. “Tell me the lines, maybe I can help.”

Namjoon nodded. He flipped to another page in his notebook. “So, this has been stuck in my head for a while, it’s: were you wandering around, looking for an erased dream too? I don’t know what else to do with it.”

“Well we know the song is gonna be Euphoria right? Like that’s the decided title.”

Namjoon nodded. “Yeah, and the main chorus with the take my hands now, you are the cause of my euphoria…. I’m just honestly stuck.”

“Play the track.” Jungkook reached over and grabbed the notebook, his eyes scanning over the pages of chicken scratch. Certain phrases stuck out to him, rhyming bits and clever wordplay that only Namjoon would be smart enough to come up with. The track began to play and Jungkook scratched his head. He grabbed a pencil and began to circle certain phrases and words as he listened.

The two worked together for nearly two hours, writing and rewriting certain pieces to fit the mood or other lines. Jungkook lived for moments like this, when he could showcase his talents for Namjoon.

“What about… Something about utopia? It fits, right?”

Namjoon’s mouth curved up into a smile, his dimple dipping into his cheek. “The way you help, one would think you’ve been in love your whole life, Jungkook.”

“Maybe I have,” Jungkook whispered without thinking. He was writing down a few ideas that had popped into his head. When he looked back up, Namjoon was staring hard at him.

“What?”

“Jungkook.. I’ve known you for a long time now.”

“Yeah, years.”

“I pretty much watched you grow up.”

Jungkook smiled fondly and nodded. “Yeah. So?”

“So, I think I… I mean I’d like to think I know you pretty well, right? You’re open with me?”

“Sure, of course.” A creeping worry began to sink into Jungkook’s bones at the solemnness of Namjoon’s expression.

“Who’re you in love with then?”

“What?”

Namjoon motioned to the notebook between them. “Who are you in love with?”

“Oh, I—I meant our fans. You know, the love we all share, that sort of—”

“Cut the bullshit, Jungkook.”

Jungkook straightened up a little at the sharpness of Namjoon’s tone.

“I don’t—”

“You don’t need to lie. You wouldn’t be able to anyway, not to me. Be honest, okay?”

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped a little. He stared at the desk in front of him, his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. Panic was rising in his throat, hot and frightening. Could Namjoon know? Did Jimin let something slip? Or was Jungkook just that bad at hiding?”

“I can’t. Not about this.”

“Why not?”

“I just… This is something I can’t talk about.”

“Jungkook – I’m one of your best friends. I’m here for you. Is there something that I should know?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I can’t, hyung.”

“Jungkook.” Namjoon’s slender fingers slipped under Jungkook’s chin, curling to grip it lightly and lift Jungkook’s head. His smile was soft.

“Please. Trust me.”

“You’d hate me.”

“I’ve known you for years. You’d be surprised, I think, at how little I hate you.”

“If you knew who I was in love with.”

“It’s a member, right?”

Jungkook tried to pull his face away from Namjoon, but he tightened his grip. “Me too, Jungkook.”

“What?”

“I have secrets too, and that’s one of them.”

“Who?”

Namjoon smiled weakly. “You.” He whispered.

Jungkook’s heart leapt into his throat, stopping his breath. His cheeks flushed, warm from his throat up to his forehead. “What?” He repeated dumbly.

“I know. Stupid, huh? I’ve never told anyone. I hope you don’t think of me differently. I can control it, I—I wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know, so maybe you’d be able to share who—”

Jungkook moved forward, cutting Namjoon off as their mouths met. Namjoon made a small noise of protest, splaying his hands on Jungkook’s chest as if to push him back. Jungkook grabbed his wrists. “It’s you,” he whispered against Namjoon’s mouth. “I’m in love with you, hyung. Kiss me back, please.”

Namjoon’s entire body relaxed at Jungkook’s words. He slid one hand up from his chest to the back of his neck, sinking easily back into the kiss.

Jungkook squeezed the wrist of the hand still on his chest, setting his other hand on Namjoon’s thigh. He sighed against his mouth, heart pounding a hundred miles an hour. They parted when they were both breathless, lips kiss swollen and pink.

“Jungkook—”

“I’ve been in love with you since I saw you the first time. Why do you think I chose Big Hit?”

Namjoon closed his eyes, hanging his head. “You were such a cute kid. When you got a little older, I—I felt so dirty for the way I felt… I never told anyone, even Yoongi-hyung. I was afraid you’d hate me.”

“I told Jimin-hyung. He’s kept my secret so long, I—” He shook his head. “I’ve been sitting with this inside of me for so long. I don’t know what to do now that – You know.”

“How about you kiss me one more time,” Namjoon suggested.

Jungkook grinned. “That I can do.” He leaned forward, pushing Namjoon back in his chair. Their lips met once more but Jungkook kept moving, straddling Namjoon’s hips. He whined softly, placing his hands on the small of Jungkook’s back.

“Wanna move this to the couch?” He mumbled against Jungkook’s mouth.

Jungkook nodded. He scrambled off Namjoon’s lap, letting himself be led to the small couch. Their mouths met once more as they sat down, and Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat when Namjoon gently, but firmly, pressed him into a lying position. He let his legs fall open, gasping at the weight of Namjoon atop him.

“Is this okay?” Namjoon asked, pressing kisses along Jungkook’s jaw.

“Yes. Please—”

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Namjoon admitted. Jungkook buried his fingers in his hair, dragging his head back up and into another kiss. He slid one hand down, pushing Namjoon’s shirt up and gently running his fingers over the smooth skin of his back. He traced the edge of his boxers, peeking out over his jeans, before dipping one finger playfully under the elastic and letting it snap against Namjoon’s skin.

Namjoon gasped, pulling back and grinning. “What was that for?”

“Your jeans are too tight for me to do anything else,” Jungkook pouted, looking up at Namjoon with wide eyes.

“You… Want to do more?” Namjoon asked. Despite the music he wrote and listened to, his inexperience was shining through, and it made Jungkook all the more proud, and excited.

“I do. If you wanna. I know this is new and we’re team mates.”

“I do,” Namjoon reiterated. He leaned back, allowing Jungkook to lift his shift up. He tossed it aside, his cheeks pinking up when Jungkook slid his palms over his bare chest.

“You know, you could show this off as much as me. You’re fit enough.”

“Ah, I’m too shy for that, you know that.”

Jungkook half shrugged. He sat up a little, letting his lips brush over Namjoon’s collarbone before sliding down, catching his nipple between his teeth. Namjoon hissed, his head falling back.

Jungkook teased and nibbled for a few moments before switching the pleasant torture to the other side, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile at the soft whines slipping from Namjoon’s open mouth.

“Can I take your pants off?” Jungkook asked. He kept his face hidden in Namjoon’s chest, fear his warm cheeks would give away his nerves, or make Namjoon less willing.

“We don’t have to… If you want, just… Have you ever done this before?”

“Done what?”

“Anything like this?”

Jungkook hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

“You’re a virgin?”

He nodded.

“Do you… I don’t want to assume, but…”

“I want you to take it.” Jungkook looked up, his bravery surprising even him. “I’ve fantasized about you being the one to take it since I joined this company. That’s never changed. I’ve had opportunity to lose it but I wanted… In case, you know.”

Namjoon smiled. He cupped Jungkook’s chin and lifted his head up further, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

“I’ll make it worth the wait, I promise.”

“Don’t make me wait longer.”

“We’re in my studio,” Namjoon argued. “I don’t mind… But shouldn’t it be… I don’t know, special for you?”

“It’s with you in the place you consider pretty much sacred, hyung. What’s more special than that?”

Namjoon smiled again. “I suppose you have a point.”

Jungkook bit his lip. He reached down, cupping Namjoon’s crotch and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Do you want to?”

Namjoon nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly. “You have no idea.”

“Maybe you should tell me,” Jungkook suggested. He wiggled his way off the couch and dropped to his knees. As he did, he tugged Namjoon into a standing position, reaching out and undoing his jeans.

“Tell you?” Namjoon asked, watching Jungkook’s hands.

“Mhm. All about what you’ve wanted to do to me.”

Jungkook tugged Namjoon’s jeans and boxers down.

His cock was half hard, just beginning to thicken and rise. “Sit,” Jungkook instructed.

Namjoon obeyed, his hands immediately gripping the couch.

“Did you fantasize about this? My mouth on your cock?”

Namjoon shivered but nodded, his eyes growing heavy with lust.

Jungkook leaned forward. He stroked Namjoon a few times firmly. Their gazes locked for a moment before Jungkook slipped his tongue out, running it teasingly over the smooth underside of Namjoon’s rapidly hardening cock.

“Did I look at you while I did it?” Jungkook whispered. He kept his eyes open wide, giving himself an innocent look, the total opposite of his actions as he slid the tip of Namjoon’s cock over his bottom lip. “Or was I shy? Sucked you with my eyes closed?”

“B— Brazen. You’re always so confident, Jungkook... In my fantasies you are brazen in bed too.”

Jungkook complied without a word. He took Namjoon into his mouth, swallowing him down inch by inch. He gazed up at Namjoon with wide, dark eyes, tears forming when Namjoon’s cock twitched, bumping the back of his throat.

Namjoon placed a hand lightly on the back of Jungkook’s head, stroking his hair. “That’s it baby... Suck it for me,” he whispered.

Jungkook began to bob his head, allowing Namjoon to guide him down. His swirled his tongue over the shaft, his cheeks reddening at the dirty, wet noises me was making.

Namjoon continued to watch him, a gentle affection clear despite the need in his gaze. His grip tightened just a bit.

“Gag on it for me... Just once,” he asked.

Jungkook pulled back and took a breath. He sank down on Namjoon’s slick, hard cock until the tip slipped past his throat. His shoulders jerked, throat fluttering around Namjoon’s tip. He pulled back, coughing.

“Fuck... That was perfect,” Namjoon growled. He dragged Jungkook up and wiped his tears before attacking his clothing, stripping him as fast as he could manage.

The moment Namjoon’s soft lips surrounded Jungkook’s cock he thought he may have died and gone to heaven. He decided he must have when Namjoon began bobbing his head, soft clicks of his throat filling the air between Jungkook’s moans. He grabbed Namjoon’s shoulders, short nails biting into the smooth expanses of flesh as Namjoon choked on him.

“Please—“ Jungkook finally gasped out. “I’m gonna come.”

Namjoon pulled back, wiping his spit slicked chin. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

Jungkook shook his head. “Our first time I— I wanna come on your cock.”

“That so?”

Jungkook nodded. He turned around, dropping down so his hands were on the smooth wood table. He spread his legs, giving Namjoon easier access. “Please?”

Namjoon leaned forward, spreading Jungkook further. He swiped his tongue teasingly over Jungkook’s hole before stiffening it to a point and prodding at him. Jungkook whined, his hips twisting desperately.

Namjoon used his fingers and tongue to loosen Jungkook as well as he could. He rose, padding over to his desk.

“What’re you—“

“Lube,” Namjoon said, fishing a tube out from one of the drawers. He went back to work on Jungkook with his fingers, stretching his right hole as he pressed firm kisses over his ass.

“Think you’re ready?” He whispered when Jungkook’s whines lost their edge. Jungkook nodded. He scrambled onto the couch, and smiled up at Namjoon.

He nodded, settling between Jungkook’s legs. Applying more lube to Jungkook and himself, he lined up, taking a steadying breath as he began to push in. Jungkook opened for him with little trouble, but he pulled back once more and started over, just going deep enough to make Jungkook desperate to feel more.

“Stop teasing, please.”

“I don’t want this to hurt,” Namjoon argued, still sliding slow and steady into Jungkook.

“I might be a virgin, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t fucked myself,” Jungkook hissed. Namjoon hesitated, his cock twitching a little.

“You’ve—“

“For years now, hyung.”

Namjoon swallowed hard. He stopped for a moment, drinking in the image of Jungkook under him. One leg was kicked up on the back of the couch, the other held by Jungkook’s hand, veins bulging and fingertips white with strain.

“What have you used?” Namjoon whispered.

“Fingers first, of course... But I always needed more. Once I was using three regularly I changed to the end of my brush. It felt so good pumping into me... I’d hide in the closet and fuck myself with it... Picturing you.”

“Jungkook—“ Namjoon’s voice cracked. He slid in deeper, earning a happy sigh from Jungkook.

“That’s right... I used to come all over myself pretending you were pounding me against the wall.”

“Do you still?” Namjoon panted.

“No... Now I have a nice thick dildo to fuck myself with.”

Namjoon shivered. Jungkook grabbed his ass, grinding down so his cock slipped deeper. “Just last night I was bouncing on it in my room. I came without even touching myself... I was listening to your music too.”

Namjoon groaned. He leaned down, catching Jungkook’s mouth in a desperate kiss. Grabbing his hips in a bruising grip he drove home, swallowing the shout of pleasure it forced from Jungkook’s lips.

“Is it thicker than me?” Namjoon asked. He began to pump his hips steadily. Jungkook grabbed his ass, digging his short nails into his skin.

“No—“ He gasped. “Just about the same, oh God right there, hyung—“

Namjoon leaned down, mouthing kisses along Jungkook’s neck as he fucked into him. He could feel Jungkook shivering under him, his cock twitching and dribbling between their stomachs.

“I listen to your voice to come,” Jungkook admitted. “Gets me every time.”

“Goddamnit, Jungkook,” Namjoon growled.

“That’s it— Fuck me. I know you wanna. You won’t hurt me,” Jungkook coaxed. Namjoon let himself relax a little, picking up his speed and the depth of his thrusts. Jungkook whispered under him, his back arching. “Please! Deeper—“ he pleaded.

Namjoon’s stomach flipped with knotted arousal. He lifted himself up, grabbing Jungkook’s hips and lifting him for a better angle. He pulled almost all the way out and drove in. Jungkook’s body arched from the couch, his cock throbbing and twitching as Namjoon fucked him deep and hard. He slapped his hand over his mouth, earning a strained chuckle.

“You know this room is soundproof. I wanna hear you scream, Jungkookie.” He drove in again, meeting Jungkook’s wide, wet eyes.

“Harder—“ Jungkook panted.

“Fuck, you’re needy for it.” Namjoon grumbled, but obeyed. His thighs slapped against Jungkook’s, balls striking his tight ass on each thrust. Jungkook did his part, letting himself scream, beg, and moan freely. The grin never disappeared from his face, looking up at Namjoon with a deeper admiration and affection than he’d ever seen.

“Want me to touch you?” Namjoon panted, brushing his fingertips over Jungkook’s swollen, leaking cock.

“No... Talk to me.”

Namjoon nodded. He leaned down, catching Jungkook’s mouth in a kiss. He brushed featherlight pecks over to his ear before nipping the lobe. “You feel so good, baby. So tight for me... Want you to stay this way, okay?”

Jungkook groaned and nodded. “Yes.”

“Not gonna fuck yourself anymore, right? You need to come... You do it on my cock.”

“Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook panted, his short nails raking down Namjoon’s back.

“Oh that’s it, think about that, Jungkookie. Every time you need to jerk off, just using my cock. Riding me or getting fucked until you can’t sit right. Sometimes maybe...” Namjoon trailed off. Before Jungkook could press for more, Namjoon pulled his cock out and drove three fingers into Jungkook’s hole. He crooked them against Jungkook’s prostate, rubbing for a few seconds. Jungkook shouted in surprise, his cheeks burning. Namjoon began to thrust his fingers, the wet, pornographic squelch from the thick lube filling the air. Jungkook flushed deeper, his cock jumping each time Namjoon brushed his prostate.

“Maybe just fingering you like this... Keeping your pants on and just opening you up and making you come in your jeans.”

Jungkook whimpered, clenching around Namjoon’s fingers.

“Roll over,” Namjoon whispered, pulling his fingers free.

Jungkook obeyed, catching sight of himself in the mirror across the room. His face was mottled red, hair a wet, sweaty mess. Namjoon still looked perfect, his face set stoic as he worked more lube into Jungkook’s used ass. He lined up and pushed his ass open before sliding home in one thrust.

Jungkook shouted, reaching back to hold any part of Namjoon he could reach. Their gazes locked in the mirror. Namjoon smirked, pressing a kiss to Jungkook’s temple.

“You’re gonna come on my cock now,” he said simply. His voice was thick and smoky, and Jungkook very nearly came from the sound alone.

Namjoon began to pump into him, keeping his gaze on Jungkook through the mirror. Jungkook screamed Namjoon’s name, his body shuddering against the couch as he was filled as full as possible.

“I’m gonna—“

“That’s it, let it happen.”

“Promise you won’t pull out,” Jungkook pleaded desperately. Namjoon shook his head.

“Never. Now come for me, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s body obeyed before he realized. He went rigid under Namjoon, his ass tightening and cock throbbing as he spilled onto the slick leather underneath him.

Namjoon groaned, still fucking him through his orgasm.

He forced himself to focus as he came down from his climax. Namjoon’s eyes were screwed shut, his thrusts erratic. He bared his teeth, entire body tensing over Jungkook. He jerked his hips twice, his cock buried as deep as it could go when it began to throb. Jungkook could feel his balls twitching, working to fill Jungkook for the first time - and certainly not the last. He watched with half closed eyes, a pleasant little burn of pride as it sunk in that he was the one to give Namjoon this pleasure. When Namjoon’s body relaxed over his, Jungkook turned his head, pressing a tired kiss to the corner of Namjoon’s mouth.

“I love you, hyung.”

Namjoon sighed softly. He peppered kisses over Jungkook’s sweat slicked shoulder. “Relax for me.”

Namjoon pulled out carefully, grabbing a box of tissues and cleaning himself and Jungkook. They dressed in silence, the weight of what they’d done settling into their bones.

“Hyung—”

“Jungkook—”

They chuckled at their unison, and Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t ruin this,” Jungkook whispered.

“What?”

“Don’t do what you always do. Don’t rationalize this. It’s already rational. You made love to me. I gave you my virginity and I don’t regret it. And I want to do it again. And more, if you’re willing.”

“Of course, Jungkook, I’ve been head over heels for you for years.”

“Then kiss me. Date me and love me.”

“The guys—”

“You know they’ll get it. They always talk about how hard you work. How much you deserve a break and happiness. You don’t think they’ll be happy that I can maybe give that to you?”

Namjoon’s shoulders slumped a little as he relaxed, Jungkook’s words clearly making sense.

“We can’t tell the public.”

“Of course not. They’d crucify us. But we’re okay to do this. We’ll have the guys’ support. Namjoon-hyung. Do you want me?”

“Yes.”

Jungkook opened his arms. “I’m right here.”

Namjoon went to him without hesitation, nuzzling against his neck. Jungkook smiled. He hugged him tightly, grinning as his heart pounded a mile a minute.

Namjoon gasped suddenly, pulling back.

“What?” Jungkook worried.

“I got it.” “Got… What?”

“It! The song.” Namjoon grabbed his face and pressed a hard to kiss to his surprised mouth before rushing back to his seat at the computer. He woke the screen and pulled up a document. Immediately he began to type, humming and mumbling under his breath. Jungkook smiled softly.

He cleaned up the couch and settled onto it, his head resting on his forearms as he watched Namjoon. Though he’d had a vague understanding before, the knowledge hit home. This was what it meant. Euphoria.

#bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #armyofwriters #btsguild #networkbangtan #namkook #kookiemonster #namjoon x jungkook #jungkook x namjoon #namjoon/jungkook #jungkook/namjoon #bts ships #bts fanfic #mywriting

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hjertetssunnegalskap1 · 5 years

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Hi. For the director's thing, I'd love to know a bit more about the first chapter of Don't Leave Me (Alone) please. What made you decide to write it that way and how the more supernatural elements came about.

Ah, thank you so much for this ask! I ended up writing a far too long post about it. Kudos to anyone that actually reads it.

Don’t leave me (alone) was my very first Skam fic, well, my very first fic ever, so it has a special place in my heart. It’s hard to recall what made me decide to write it. I recall that the idea for the fic started out pretty simple, though. I wanted to write Isak and Even meeting as adults (but realizing that they had met before). I had an idea about Isak coming back to Oslo from his studies in Trondheim (yeah, I’m a psychic, I predicted Andem’s headcanon, lol).

I wanted to write Isak a little lonely, lost and not knowing what to do next:

He walks with long, quiet steps. There’s no reason to be quick, and he can decide which hotel to sleep in later. He stares at the pavement in front of him. Things are a bit shitty at the moment, he has to admit. Right now, he has no place to stay, no boyfriend, no job. Well, that isn’t exactly true; he has a possibility to work as a biology teacher at Hartvig Nissen, but he’s not particularly tempted.

Most people his age have jobs, houses and cars, and some even start to have kids. Whereas he has almost everything he owns in the backpack and suitcase. The thought gives him an uneasy feeling in his gut. It hadn’t been his intention to come home like this. He was going to come back with a good education, safe job and a bright future ahead of him. He had been close, too; he had studied at the university, and did well. But he never found a job that he wanted. On top of that, he hadn’t quite managed to make friends in Trondheim. He had made a couple of acquaintances, and had enjoyed some hookups, but still ended up spending most of his time home alone. It was like his whole life was on hold, waiting for something.

Yeah, “not knowing what to do” is a recurring theme in my stories, and I can’t really call it self insert, since I was determined to do what I did after high school (I was pretty sure I couldn’t make a living of writing and painting, so I chose something more reliable).

Anyway. I wanted Isak and Even to meet and have this sort of magical day that set everything in motion between them. Making a sort of one-night-stand to friends to lovers thing. When I tried to figure out where they should meet, I wanted to begin where their story sort of ended in the show, in Sagene church. I imagined that scene pretty clearly from the start, with Isak remembering meeting this unknown boy there, seven years ago, and then suddenly stumbling over the same guy, at the same place.

For a moment, Isak almost wonders if the guy has materialized from his thoughts. That’s ridiculous, of course. It must just be a weird coincidence.

Isak can’t look away. He just can’t. It is like those blue eyes hold him, and look right into him. His face burns, his heart races, all kinds of feelings tumble in his belly. His hands feel heavy, like they long to touch the other guy, making sure he is real. Isak struggles to shut his mouth and not look like an idiot.

I also imagined their moment in the church very clearly. I have done just what Isak and Even are doing here, once, crashing a funeral with someone I liked. And I guess that’s why the scene came easily to me.

But then the organ starts playing, and the little group of people in the front starts to sing another psalm. The sound of the melancholy hymn and the thin voices is oddly gripping: To live, it is to love/ the best your soul could reach/ to live it is in work/ searching richer goals. The words hit Isak hard, thinking about the lonely life of the deceased, and how it mirrors his own boring life.

My translation of the hymn is probably awful, but I’m kinda pleased with how I made that scene come together. Isak has a strong reaction to it all, and leaves.

The second part of this chapter is in Even’s perspective, and it was really interesting to write things in his point of view, both to explore his experiences of fears and doubts, but also to show his dorky side.

Now Isak turns around, facing him, and Even is forced to drop his hands from his shoulders. His looks still take Even’s breath away, just as they did in the church back when they were kids. Isak is still golden, but far from a boy, even if Even can see he still has sort of a boyish charm. Despite that impression, he is a man, with strong features and dark, green eyes. Even still feels the overwhelming want in his hands, the want to hold him, and the want to sense his skin. He has this excitement in his body and buzzing feeling in his fingers, something that makes him wonder if he is starting to become manic again, so he holds back.

Need to stay in control.

Isak meets his gaze for a moment, looking a bit embarrassed, and Even smiles at him.

– Okay, Even says, and tries to sound reassuring. – It seems like you are better now. But if it’s okay, I want to follow you to wherever you are going. Just to be sure you are all right.

Smooth. Even is quite pleased with himself.

I see now that even if the perspectives are altering, I do maybe write Isak’s perspective clearer than Even’s. Or maybe it feels like that in chapter one because Isak has more parts (in the second chapter Even has more).

In the next part, we’re in Isak’s head again, and they have a stop at Hartvig Nissen. I guess it’s easy to notice that I picked locations from the show and built the story around it. The story more or less starts at the church, and they visit several of the sites, but just in a jumbled order. Of course, I did some changes, the cafeteria turned into a coffee shop and things like that. Also, while the locations are sort jumbled compared to the show, the scenes parallel the show pretty closely. It helped me find a structure for the story.

As they have a chat in the schoolyard, they talk about before, and I get the opportunity to parallel some of the moments from the show that I love. Like this one:

Isak looks at Even. – Which school did you go to?

– Bakka.

Even glances at him, and looks ridiculously hot with his swoopy hair and bright, blue eyes.

Isak swallows, but puts on a cocky face. – That figures, he smiles. – Elvebakken is the place to go for hipster movie makers or media wannabes, isn’t it?

– Ha ha.

Even smiles at Isak, but there is something serious in his eyes. – I almost transferred to Nissen, actually, in my last year. That is, I got delayed for a year, and then I thought about changing schools.

– Really? Why?

Even`s gaze at him is thoughtful. – It’s a long story. I can tell you over a beer some time.

I can tell you. Some time. Isak likes that little promise.

– But I decided that I wasn’t that kind of person, Even continues.

Isaks looks at him. – What kind of person?

Even shrugs. – I didn’t want to be that kind of person who quits, I guess.

Sounds familiar, you say? If you have read more than one of my Skam fics, you know that I make parallels to this, over and over again. I just can’t seem to let go of it, for some reason.

Oh, I must also comment something about the horrible dick jokes. As we know, Isak and Even has this thing where they do a lot of banter, and I knew that banter wasn’t something I wrote easily. So to help myself to add some humor between them, I added some silly dick jokes. I’m not sure about how well it worked, but I guess it helped me get over the fear of writing banter.

Anyway. In the next part, Isak struggles to find a hotel and Even takes an initiative. And in the next and final part, they go to Even’s flat and things heat up. I don’t know if I should say more about it. I can’t quote everything in this fic, this post is already far too long. Also, I shouldn’t spoil everything. However, I can say that I wanted to write this situation where everything happens a bit too fast, perhaps, and then take it from there.

So, about the supernatural elements. Right now, I can’t recall exactly which magical scene that started the whole magical realism thing. Maybe it was the one in the church. I think that Isak had a moment where everything got blurry and he felt that he knew Even from before. I had planned to just have just a few moments like that and leave it as a mystery (I’m weak for magical realism and it tends to pop up in my writing from time to time). But my amazing beta reader saw the potential and helped me see more places that I could add more magic. And that magical realism thing became a big part of the whole fic. Actually, it became the most important part of the story. And the most fun part was that it fit surprisingly well with the idea of parallel universes.

Here’s an example of one of these moments in the church:

One moment he has this vision, of himself in another life, where he has chosen love, and living for real, where he laughs and cries and lives, and it takes his breath away. It’s bizarre, but he sees himself with Even, with this guy next to him, and they do everything together; they kiss, laugh, fuck, fight and cry and kiss again, and it can’t be right, because it almost feels like memories. Memories from another life that never was. To live, it is like the ocean, / to mirror the heavens.

What is happening to him? Isak can’t breathe. It is like he is trapped.

As a result, this chapter changed quite a lot from my first draft, as I added more magic moments and as I knew where the story would go. I guess I learned a lot, writing this thing, about how stories can change and turn into something more than you imagine from the start.

#skam #evak #fic writing #director's commentary #don't leave me (alone)#Anonymous

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giuliaratti · 5 years

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SOME EXCERPTS FROM   Sensual Culture: The Socio-Sensual Practices of Clubbing. Philip Gordon Jackson University College London In Fulfilment of PhD in Social Anthropology Submitted in June 2001  

_core crowd

people become core crowd members by simply becoming regulars and partying hard, so that they get noticed and invited to other nights; they make an effort to add to the party by participating in it to a high degree; they will dress up, dance hard, socialize and play a role in "kneading" the party out of the more reserved clubbers.

over the course of the night, we don't spend a lot of time with each other, because we're circulating and chatting and dancing and trying to get other people to let their hair down and join in, that's the most important job of the core crowd.

The core crowd are the people who produce a party more than they consume it darkness holds an unknown quality about it that is a combination of both promise and threat. It is a time of invisibility or transformation where, shielded from the clarity of Foucault's gaze, people can become slippery in terms of the activities they seek out and the personas they present to the world. Night in the city is time out [...] For people who hold down boring or unsatisfactory jobs, night is the time when they feel they lead their real lives.

"Night is the final frontier because it's the only space and time, in the current system, that can be given over to things that won't necessarily make money. During the day you have to do things that will allow you to survive financially. Whereas the night you don't." (Male 28; 11 years experience.)

anonimity

darkness "covers", "penetrates" and "touches"

"It's hard to dance when a club's too light, you feel too vulnerable; it's like dancing during the daytime I find that a bit odd too, though once I've got going I don't mind as much, but there's something about really dark rooms that makes it easier to dance and go a bit wilder; it feels more natural." (Female 29; 7 years experience.)

Dancing in the dark is easier than dancing in broad daylight where the movements of the dancer are revealed to the world and open to scrutiny. You often see people closing their eyes, when they dance, enveloping themselves in their own darkness and allowing themselves to experience their own body in motion more intensely by cutting out the distraction of the crowd.

Out on the dancefloor, shrouded in this cimmerian world, the tyranny of vision is abandoned in favor of the delights of invisibility and the physical closeness of bodies getting serpentine on the beat. What you can't see you can't judge and can't be judged by. 

Shrouded by the darkness bodies became liquid, emotions rose to the surface, faces were hyper-expressive revealing joy, confusion, contemplation and sheer unadulterated bliss.

Some of these crowds may have difficult lives outside of the club space, others don't, but regardless of where they have come from the experience of clubbing itself adds something they value to their lives. I believe this sense of value arises from this point of sensual tension; it is an emotional and experiential value, rather than an ideological position; clubbing is about creating worlds that feel right.

"I get to be sexy; it seems silly but I really enjoy it, when I'm in a club dancing my whole body feels hot and horny and alive. I can dress up in a way that I could never do on the street or in pubs, because I think in clubs people will accept that you're doing it for yourself; they can watch you and enjoy you, but that's as far as it goes; it's playful rather than serious; It feels safe much safer than other places where it might cause hassle; I feel more in charge of the situation, less threatened by people watching me. You know that some guy might be getting turned on by the way you dance, but m a club that feels less dangerous because you expect the men to not behave like arseholes. If they're just smiling at you and watching you and enjoying or dancing along with you then they understand that It doesn’t necessarily mean you want to fuck them; it's just part of the might, part of the fun of clubbing." (Female 41; 19 years experience.) 

"I was dancing on my own and this group of women were on the floor with me; it was pretty empty, but they kept crowding in on me like there was no room and giving me horrible nasty looks and whispering to each other, then staring at me. It wasn't very nice; they seemed to resent me dancing on my own, like they were threatened by it or something. It hasn't happened very often at all, but when it does you just think, 'Oh you sad bastards just leave me alone and enjoy yourself, that's what we're all here for.' " (Female 42; 5 years experience.)

_The Dynamics of Dance

Stage 1 is the pre-dance stage, where punters begin to embody the practice of clubbing. They congregate at the peripheries of the space, around bars, at the edge of the dancefloor. Standing with their mates, scanning the crowd to see who's there, they drink, giggle, watch. Some are waiting for their drugs to "come on" and at this stage the crowd is still anxious about the night.

Club crowds must be hospitable and welcoming and this is again communicated physically: it is a bodily attitude that is relaxed, passionate and, most importantly, friendly.

Stage 2 is the point where a dancefloor tentatively begins. DJ drops a club favourite or a confident party posse arrives in force. people surreptitiously start to dance at the periphery, move into the visible space and then retire back to the edge.

This is a period where people feel particularly self conscious, by beginning to dance they must move from the safety and anonymity of the crowd, to the visibility of the floor. People at the edges often start dancing, while chatting with friends or facing away from the floor itself, as they attempt to conceal themselves and their movements by pretending that they're not actually dancing, more just moving about while talking.

Stage 3 is a warm-up periodThe temperature rises, muscles warm up, bodies start to relax

You become hyper-aware of your own self within the crowd. The joy of dancing in a club is that there is no wrong way to dance, as long as you're getting otT on it, lapping it up, lovin' it, then you can dance. The only bad dancer is a miserable one.

Stage 4 is the point where the dancefloor reaches a critical mass of bodies; it is the hottest and most intense stage in terms of being amongst others. Full dancefloors can become static, they reduce the range of potential movement, this is the hands in the air stage when you have to focus your movement vertically, rather than horizontally, to avoid collisions. As one informant explained:

"Dancing on a really packed floor, that's really going for it, can feel like leaping into a bucket full of eels; it's great, hot, bodies everywhere, all just squirming and getting sweaty; it's great." (Male)

The sweat which pours from your skin seems to cleanse you, draining out the toxic residue of frustrated plans, niggling worries, stupid arguments and petty insecurities. Nothing matters but the beat, the crowd, the dance.

Glorious. Some clubbers themselves see this experience in terms of escapism, but to the outside eye, it seems so social and physically creative, that it forces you to re-think the meaning of the term escapism itself.

The crowd has worked together to create this moment. They have put time, energy and hard cash into the night, but most importantly they have generated a sense of social camaraderie, within the club, that underpins their ability to cut loose and feel good amongst the people who surround them. The dance is one way in which that sensation manifests itself, in both individuals and groups, by allowing them to possess a different physicality in the world, one that is strong and fervent, relaxed yet powerful, one that has shed, even if only for a night, the physicality of the drudge.

"I was trained as a dancer; I worked as a dancer; I have always danced; I've always enjoyed dancing, but I never really felt like a dancer until I started taking drugs and dancing in clubs. That taught me more about dancing than any other experience of dancing ever has." (Female 41; 19 years experience)

The easiest way to describe it is that it feels like vertical fucking, but this fuck has a sense of humour, it is playful and intense simultaneously.

"I haven't had sex for almost two years and dancing allows me to enter a wonderful sensual place; it's almost as good as sex in terms of making your body feel fabulous" (Female 42; 5 years experience.)

The aches and pains of the week begin to evaporate through movement.

grey flees the building to be replaced by vivid reds, burning oranges, iridescent blues and a slither of topaz. You ain't in Kansas no more. You're on a dancefloor and it is fearsome fine.

You can literally feel these changes deep in the flesh, your posture becomes liquid, you can sense the energy pumping through your veins, as this sensorial realm begins to dominate consciousness. Your kinaesthetic sense is firing on all fronts, all that matters is the dance. The sensual residue of the week, your weaknesses, anxieties and strengths are channelled into the dance and so transmuted into movement, energy and heat. They are not simply forgotten, their form is altered, their shadows are expunged from the flesh. Those knots of tension, that are the physical manifestation of problems at work, the heaviness of depression, the stooped form of anxiety, are all cast-off and replaced with a body in lithe, supple motion.

At times this can feel transcendent; it is a physicality that takes you so far beyond the everyday experience of your own social body, that it felt as a sublime manifestation of self in world.

'I've never felt like that, because I've never moved like that'

the experience of dancing becomes a form of sensual knowledge in itself; it teaches you about your own body, how you can make that body feel and how you can intensify those feelings.

you don't have to look good, when you dance, it is enough to simply dance and express your passion for dancing and this freedom is one of the most important qualities of the club space.

once my body started to loosen up then I could look at people, catch their eyes and smile and feed off their energy, because I had space my dancing could get pretty wild.

“[…] It's not showing off; it's trying to provoke and tempt people to go further. It's not about performance; I don't want people to look at me; I want them to interact with me; to be with me; not stare at me. The display thing is all very silly really; it's a game”

dancing in a crowded room is very different from dancing alone, because you're immersed within and energized by the sociality of the space.

safe social space

What they actually communicate, when they're wrapped within the full force of the dance, is the feeling of being exquisitely and sensually ALIVE, more alive than they feel in many other areas of their lives. That sense of aliveness arises from a repossessing and re- sensualizing your own body through the practice of dancing.

Dressing up is a sensual practice […] it is fun in itself and people enjoy playing with the way they look.

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emi-the-tiny-bean · 2 years

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𝔸𝕟 𝔼𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝔽𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕪: 𝕄𝕪 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 ℝ𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕪

𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚎𝚏𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚗.

Reality is a fickle yet complex plane of existence. It is one that constantly alters who we are but is also something we ourselves can change - or at least, to some extent. It has the potential to bring out the best out of us, while also hailing down the worst on our simple humane minds. For people like me, who have an awry perspective towards reality, we may desire any and every means possible to find relief especially in the most heavy of times. I personally have many ways of coping, but some have been limited due to the quarantine and thus, I’ve recently adopted a hobby I’d once forgotten: roleplay.

See, I was once what I like to call a bookworm, an avid consumer of literary works from any era, of any genre, created by any hand and mind that created stories upon stories of worlds far different from ours. I say ‘was’ as I’ve been continuously losing the time or effort to pick up a book and read to my heart’s desire. That doesn’t mean that my love for literature has lessened though. If I was given a library chock full of storybooks whether fiction or nonfiction, along with an entire week’s free time without anyone bothering me for anything else, I would’ve buried myself underneath piles of books. Yet, I unfortunately don’t reside in a reality for such a scholarly dream to exist. I would’ve needed a library of such grandeur in the first place, one that is nowhere near my residence. I would’ve also required time, a golden treasure that I ironically am poverty stricken with, apart from anything and everything else that I am blessed to have. Regardless of the misfortune of not being able to live that dreamy and luxurious reality full of knowledge and creativity, I have adopted my own smaller and mundane scale of a similar hobby.

Along with being an avid bookworm when I was younger, I also had the childhood memories of roleplaying different scenarios and characters with my childhood and still on-going best friend. Having stopped after entering high school, I’d slowly forgotten my enjoyment of creating thought-out characters and placing them into stories that only developed their already distinct archetypes. It was only normal, I believe, that from reading stories written by well-experienced and innovatively creative authors, I would wish to create my own. Partially because of the sudden eureka moments, I had created my own few ideas before but hadn’t gone to completely accomplish them. Though now, my love for writing transferred or rather, returned. From creating my plots on my own to making even more diverse storylines with others in the form of roleplay. Nowadays, I’ve tried joining different public roleplaying group servers in a platform known as Discord. It is a wondrous thing for me, creating original characters of our own and writing their actions as if we were them. From this, role-players forge dynamics and complex storylines between these fictional characters.

Escaping reality and allowing myself to act like a god over these people that quite literally don’t exist is a vice that others may not truly understand. I’ve luckily made peace a long time ago with the fact that I may be considered eccentric to some but not to all. Oftentimes I would suddenly think of how silly it is and in another person’s eyes, it may be equivalent to that of playing dollhouse with others but on an adult scale. However, the many plots I’ve been roped into gives me enthusiastic excitement every time that I’m able to indulge in the hobby of roleplaying. From romance in a mafia to post-apocalyptic scenarios, the endless possibilities of realities that the human mind can create is incredible. I was even able to create multiple distinct personalities that I am, without a doubt, proud of conjuring up. This is because I consider myself a person of dual personalities that likes contrasting themes. From a soft-spoken noble female elf who is an enthusiast for the arts and is yet to truly experience her character development, to a mischief-making vampire woman with a grunge aesthetic and a passion for music.

When roleplaying, the possibilities are endless. The escape is addicting. These fictional lives become exhilarating to create, read, and experience. It is a place and a way where I can project myself into a desired identity, where I can be whoever I want to be. My means of setting myself free.

#school #personal post #personal essay #assignment #roleplay

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elegantshapeshifter · 6 years

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“The instrumental theory of magic is problematic because it undermines one of the core values of an earth-centered Paganism: the non-instrumental view of nature, the view that nature has intrinsic (not merely instrumental) value, that nature is not a mere resource for human use.

In their review of Paganism in Religious and Spiritual Groups in Modern America, Robert Ellwood and Harry Partin explain this non-instrumental view:

“The unifying theme among the diverse Neo-Pagan traditions is the ecology of one’s relation to nature and to the various parts of one’s self. As Neo-Pagans understand it, the Judaeo-Christian tradition teaches that the human intellectual will is to have dominion over the world, and over the unruly lesser parts of the human psyche, as it, in turn, is to be subordinate to the One God and his will. The Neo-Pagans hold that, on the contrary, we must cooperate with nature and its deep forces on a basis of reverence and exchange. Of the parts of man, the imagination should be first among equals, for man’s true glory is not in what he commands, but in what he sees. What wonders he sees of nature and of himself he leaves untouched, save to glorify and celebrate them.” (emphasis added)

The instrumental theory of magic runs counter to the non-instrumental view of nature. The magical control of nature — like any utilitarian view which treats nature as a mere resource — is in opposition to the attitude of reverence of nature and the practice of cooperation (rather than control), which are central to the Pagan ethos.

Trudy Frisk describes the conflict between instrumental magic and earth-centered Pagan values in an article entitled, “Paganism, Magic, and the Control of Nature”, published in Trumpeter: The Journal of Ecosophy. In the first section of the article, entitled “Goats’ Heads or Gaia?”, Frisk relates a story about a friend asking her about Paganism. Her friend was concerned that she might be expected to participate in “strange rituals” while wearing a goat’s head on a chain around her neck. Frisk assured her that this was not the case, and that Paganism was a “nature-revering spiritual path, totally compatible with scientific analysis and rational thought” (similar to how I would describe it). Yet, Frisk had her own reservations, which she reflected upon later: “Why, after years as a practicing pagan, widely read in the literature, creatrix of numerous private rituals, participant in public festivals, proud celebrant of the Goddess, do I fear that paganism has the potential to misunderstand and exploit the very nature it promises to cherish and protect?” She concludes that the source of her reservation is “magic”: “Pagan rituals and pagan knowledge should, surely, reinforce each other. Instead, emphasis on spells and charms annoys those unwilling to set aside their scientific knowledge and critical faculties. The infuriating insistence on confusing symbol with reality, botanical and pharmaceutical properties with social desired events, drives away many who would come to celebrate rites of passage and lunar cycles. Those who persevere, stay, silent and scornful, mute, lest a correction of botanical error be interpreted as lack of devotion to the Goddess.” The instrumental view of magic is a vestige of the influence of occultism on Paganism. While earth-centered Paganism is a product of the 1960‘s Counterculture, the form that it initially took was borrowed from British Wicca, which was itself a product of the Western occult tradition. As Susan Greenwood observes, in The Nature of Magic: An Anthropology of Consciousness, “Nature religion has developed within a specific historical and cultural context of the Western Hermetic or Mystery tradition. Consequently, there are philosophical and ideological influences that reflect attention away from the natural world and encourage focus on ‘inner’ nature and anthropomorphic deities.” According to Frisk, the instrumental view of magic “perpetuates the utilitarian view of nature. Expecting natural objects to fulfill human desires leads to disregard for maintaining nature in all its complexity.” This causes Frisk to wonder how Paganism really differs from monotheistic religions which encourage human dominion over nature. A Place for “Magic”? Instrumental magic is not the only form that magic takes in Paganism, though. The occultist Aleister Crowley famously defined magic(k) as “the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will” — a definition which accords well with the instrumental theory of magic. Susan Greenwood has described this definition of magic “a very individualistic interpretation of the magical will based on the philosopher Nietzsche’s view that the will was an inner cosmological force striving for power.” But this is not the only definition of nature quoted by contemporary Pagans. Dion Fortune defined magic as the “art of changing consciousness at will”. By dropping the word “science” and adding the word “consciousness”, Fortune suggested the possibility of a different, non-instrumental view of magic. Non-instrumental magic can be understood as a psychological technique for changing ourselves in relation to the natural world. The Pagan author Starhawk explains that magic allow us to speak to the unconscious “in the language it understands”, that is, in the language of symbols.To the occultist practicing instrumental magic, the careful and precise application of magical formulae can be used to control natural and supernatural forces. The occultist imagines him- or herself to be something like a natural scientist, but one who understands (super-)natural laws which are unknown or unrecognized by the physical scientist. But from the perspective of the non-instrumental theory of magic, control is understood to be an illusion — whether we are speaking about the control of physical nature or control of the unconscious. Attempts to control either our “inner” nature or “outer” nature have a tendency to backfire. Depth psychology has taught us about the dangers of psychological “control” or repression. That which we believe we have controlled tends to find a way back into our lives. Similarly, we are now learning that our attempts to control nature have been worse than futile; nature has returned with a vengeance. The Powers That Be — whether they be natural powers or psychological powers — may be invoked, aroused, courted, wooed, persuaded, or seduced, but never controlled. In contrast to the instrumental magic of the occultist, then, non-instrumental magic is less like a scientific formula, and more like poem — or better yet, more or a dance (a spiral dance?), one which nature is already engaged in and which we merely join.

Another way to think about non-instrumental magic is as a form of “re-enchantment of the world”. In this sense, magic is a technique for producing an expanded awareness of our participation in the natural world, what Susan Greenwood “magical consciousness” and deep ecologists call “eco-consciousness”. Non-instrumental magic, then, is a countercultural response to a reductionist and positivistic science which views nature as a mere mechanism and a capitalism which reduces nature to commodity and resource. But while it challenges the cultural assumptions behind scientific positivism and reductionism, non-instrumental magic does not make pseudo-scientific claims. The biggest problem with instrumental magic, as I see it, is that it tries to play on science’s turf. It pretends to be a science and a technology, and ends up just looking silly and impotent. Non-instrumental magic, on the other hand, is more like an art. And rather than trying to be like science, by trying to control nature, it calls into question the assumptions which underlie the endeavor to dominate nature.

Starhawk is one of the earliest Pagan proponents of the non-instrumental theory of magic. While she does not deny the efficacy of instrumental magic in her writing, she does tend to downplay it in favor a non-instrumental approach. In The Spiral Dance, she warns against the dangers of instrumental magic to draw our attention away from real world connections: “If Goddess religion [and I would include Paganism generally] is not to become mindless idiocy, we must win clear of the tendency of magic to become superstition. Magic — and among its branches I include psychology as it purports to describe and change consciousness — is an art. … The value of magical metaphors is that through them we identify ourselves and connect with larger forces; we partake of the elements, the cosmic process, the movement of the stars. But if we use them for glib explanations and cheap categorizations, they narrow the mind instead of expanding it and reduce experience to a set of formulas that separate us from each other and our own power.”“Fascination with the psychic — or the psychological — can be a dangerous sidetrack on any spiritual path. When inner visions become a way of escaping contact with others, we are better off simply watching television. When ‘expanded consciousness’ does not deepen our bonds with people and with life, it is worse than useless: It is spiritual self-destruction.” Instrumental magic alienates us from nature by purporting to make us its masters, rather than its kin. Starhawk suggests that magic should deepen our connections with the natural world, not separate us from it. It should be an expression, in other words, of deep ecology. Similarly, Trudy Frisk writes that we should try to learn about the pattern nature is weaving, and attune ourselves to it, before trying to alter the pattern. As I understand it, this attunement is precisely the purpose of earth-centered Pagan ritual: attunement with nature, attunement with our deeper selves, and attunement with one another. In conclusion, I will leave you with these words of hope and of warning from Frisk:

“Paganism has an unparalleled opportunity to evolve spiritual ceremonies compatible with ecological knowledge; to create a new a sense of sacredness to set against destruction. The message of humanist materialism is hollow. People yearn for something greater. … Paganism, if it reconsiders magic, may be the faith of the future. … The world urgently needs eco-centered, not ego-centered, religions, blending reverence for nature with knowledge of its complexity. Paganism, if it treats magic as an expression of wonder and not a means of control, could be one of these religions.”

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damian-fluffy-doge · 7 years

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Okay so, I been pretty much doing changes and story develop in the AU the past months, So I am leaving pictures according to the text, i still have places to fill, and gotta talk about ghost mark and power matt but I will update it soon

Also my friend skitlesthehusky (From Da) Help me rewrite some parts or make it sound fluent so, a big thanks ;;;

Also, this AU was created back in mid january, having a pic of navy tom posted ^-^

The basic thing about this Au is that Tom is the member that leaves to follow his dreams elsewhere, being these seven years (or perhaps much less) in which the others keep having adventures, sometimes without realizing it as usual.

Tom does not belong to the army, but to the navy because he enjoys being near the sea. The army used to bring bitter memories of when he went to war with the rest of his friends (Moving Targets), which was not a good experience for him

Not to be confused with Matt's World, although the idea is similar, Swapworld was created 4 months before this and already had designed the leader of the navy.

Tord (Weeaboo)

Tord retains his taste for anime, occasionally hentai, sometimes it may seem like he is just hermit; leaving his room just to grab a snack and watch television, or just sleeping at the couch.

He is an occasional smoker, sometimes when stressed.

He has notorious eye bags, sometimes he may be in a bad mood and just yell.

Usually it is the one that speaks less because he thinks that he could say something unnecessary.

The colors of his clothes are dull to match his personality.

Sometimes he does things without thinking twice, as out of reflex or curiosity.

Sometimes he screws up and is usually reproached by Matt, Edd instead trying to advise him not to do it again, in a somewhat calmer way.

He has basic knowledge with weapons and survival, having a short training in the military base (Moving Target) but of course, he is not an expert in that.

He can become somewhat perverted but discreetly.

He prefers dogs rather than cats alike from Edd and Tom

After the incident with the laser beam,he was forced to use eye drops to prevent an uncertain fate in his eyes.

Appearance

A red dull hoodie, almost gray, torn and rather neglected pants, light gray sneakers. Underneath the hoodie he usually wears shirts with have something to do with anime or bands or words with demotivations that somehow make him feel more comfortable.

Monster tord

Its appearance is more of a cherry color, between purple and red in its majority, is a ball of fur practically and with an eye of a living green color, has crooked horns and some of hair on the head in the form of tufts, as if it were a messy hairstyle.

Half monster Tord

It is the middle stage of the transformation, in which Tord maintains a human form for the most part, but has horns and a tail, just as his hands begin to resemble other creature, his brown eyes change to neon green and his teeth are now sharp fangs, as he has fluffy ears.

Why does this happen?

It is not very clear why he become a monster Tord, or half way, but it is speculated that when he reaches high levels of stress or anger, as a start of a rage.

How does he get along with the others?

Tom

Tom occasionally complain to him because he would be always his room, or taking every opportunity he had to take his magazines, being slightly taller this was very effective to annoy him.

He was judged for smoking on occasion, even if Tom sometimes took too many drinks and ended up wasted.

In an environment like (The End), Tord develops a lot of mistrust because Tom made the attempt to be kinder to the redhead. He was suspecting he was up to something, but not so destructive.

According to him, he got rid of the threat using a sword-- of course the idea of exterminating a friend who at some point was close to him was pretty difficult to process, affecting his self-esteem but overcoming it with the support of his friends.

Edd

Edd is usually busy keeping his clothes and hair to utter perfection, so when Tord needs to talk to someone is not always the best option. Of course he can be sympathetic, if he feels that the matter is serious.

Matt is the one who listens the most when he needs to tell someone something, of course, if he wants to tell him a summary of his favorite anime. He may start falling asleep, but he makes the effort. Does that count?

Matt (Fanta Boy)

Usually the leader of the group and the one who is more optimistic. even if his solutions do not result in victory, he has the potential to guide the others.

He has an obsession with fanta, which can get out of control in some cases, but it’s nothing serious... Or is it?

He is also the kind of friend who is there when you need him. He’s the type who gives you emotional support, though sometimes he may become sarcastic, and can think of himself before others depending on the occasion; which is very strange. It usually happens when he has a bad day.

Appearance:

Matt wears an almost pink sweater with a green overcoat, dark pants and green sneakers.

He has freckles on his face, which at times he does not like.

Edd (Watermelon)

Edd may be somewhat a bit of a knucklehead in some situations, otherwise, most of the time he isn’t. He is simply tolerant of everything that happens around him. He worries about his hair more than anything, wanting to make sure that it is perfect and in order.

He is often distracted very easily and is not that well of a listener. He likes fair (or carnival) toys like Matt, so they have something in common. However, he doesn’t collect them.

Appearance

A lime green hoodie with white suspenders, topped with a pink overcoat. (He looks like a watermelon by the colors)

Tom (The Harpoon Boy)

Fun facts:

He is terrified of bears because reminds him (or triggers) bad memories of his childhood (except Tomee bear).

He likes cats and if you hurt any in his presence, you are in big trouble. (Pussy protector.)

By not having Susan nearby for a long time, he developed the habit of having a harpoon near him to which he put bandages, pretending it to be Susan, and named it Harpay. It may not be a name, but sounds like the word ‘harpoon’.

His favorite (alcoholic) drink is Smirnoff, and it is often exceeded when he is under a lot of stress.

He has a notorious British accent. Sometimes he may act somewhat arrogant with people he doesn’t get along with.

By the time he was away from home, he focused more on his plans and ideals. His goal is to get rid of Christmas, and for that he has to force people to do as he pleases. (Force me daddy.)

Why does he want to get rid of christmas?

Well first of all, I wanted to clarify that since in the series; usually it was not said why Tom had so much hatred towards christmas. So I wanted to add something to Navy Tom You see, in the series, this incident occurred while they were still children. A bear shot Tom's father, who was a pineapple.

It was Matt's fault, who innocently gave the bear a gun. Now, Tom felt a type of bitterness toward Matt for a while and had to be persuaded by his friends to stop acting as he didn't exist or avoiding him. After all, for a child, that would be a tremendous trauma, right? But he was not able to hate one of his closest friends. They were children after all, and they are not so aware of what is wishing death to someone. Well, according to me, Tom was able to enjoy Christmas with his parents, you know, gifts and candy. Which little boy doesn't like that? But ever since he lost his father, things were not the same. Even if he was a child, he was aware that something was missing. Something very important. Over time, he began to turn into a problematic child at some point in his childhood. He even left aside Tomee bear so nobody would see him as a wimpy kid. In his adolescent stage and forward, he didn't want to know anything about Christmas. It brought bad memories and feelings that he preferred to forget. That is why it would seem like a silly reason for many. Why would anyone want to destroy something as beautiful as christmas? The time you spend with family or friends having fun? Sounds cliché with the whole "if I can't be happy, no one will be.". But after all, Tom can become very selfish and think of himself before others.

After leaving his friends to form part of the Navy, he began to develop a more mature personality.

The man also knows how to handle weapons, but he still prefers to bring only a razor with him. He has a small platoon in which he is in charge of. Though, he considers the members of his team mostly as friends; especially Bing (Chris Bingbong), who is the one who seems to enjoy the most in planning attacks or designing weapons, as well as altering them to make them more powerful, according to him.

Bing

It is the one that has more experience with inventing weapons or improving them for a greater destruction, not all his projects are victorious so more than once the base was almost shattered by this guy, he likes coffee, sometimes in excess

Larry

It is the one who seems to have less tolerance for the nonsense that happens at times, sometimes giving his negative opinion, he is usually ignored so sometimes he no longer bother to say anything about a problem

Hellucard

It is the knucklehead of tom’s team, he always finds the way to get hurt with something, or be in a tremendous danger and mysteriously leave unharmed

Usually very optimistic and cheerful despite the situation, sometimes his nonsense cheers up the others

Billy (Fun Dead Kid)

This little boy was picked up by Tom after the zombie apocalypse.

After Tord handed him the gun and left him to his fate, Tom attacked the zombies before they could hurt him, the team looked for people who were looking for his son but there were no signs, assuming they had become zombies and that he was alone, they let him stay at the base, they don’t send him to war, of course but they still train him in a more friendly and gentle way

At first Billy was like any child, wanted to play, followed the other adults to see what they were doing, and asked a lot of questions, but then became a little more serious, his nickname later on would be sniper

He looks up to Tom and wants to be just like him, and he is happy to be at the naval base, it's like a family

Childhood Facts

Tom

Tom was actually a good boy and a crybaby before losing his father

The one who made fun of him was Tord, they didn’t get along most of the time, but you know, kids.

Tom loved to make paper boats and let them float around a puddle or anywhere, usually he didn’t wear shoes because he liked to climb trees and feel that he was in charge of everything when he was at the top

he also used to get scratches because of the little care he had while playing he was also very attached to tomee bear but hid it around tord because he would provoke him saying it was for babies

he used to wear clothes with designs of boats or things related to sailors, and a overall, always had some band aid somewhere

Tord

Tord was the one who guided the group when they were young, always brought shirts with designs of animes or cartoons along with shorts, or ripped jeans, was more attached to Matt back then.

his Norwegian accent was more noticeable which made him feel important, he always carried his water gun to annoy tom or any child who dared bother his friends

After tom lost his father, he completely changed, he stopped being a little jerk with tom and began to treat him better, which tom no longer accepted,feeling a slight grudge for everything he had done

Matt

He was the artist of the group, and he loved to share his knowledge with the other kids, along with Edd they idealised crazy things to draw, since edd is the one who taught him how to draw, of course Matt then learned new things on his own

He used to wear shirts with long sleeves, which hung from his hands, usually purple, violet or pink

When tom lost his father, he didn’t understand at first what he had done, because according to him, he found a gun lying at the grass and there was a bear that demanded him to give it back, he thought he did the right thing

was beside tom during all of the recover process, even if tom despised his friendship, it took almost a year, with the help of the others so that tom finally accepted him again

He felt terrible about what happened and tried to compensate it. even till now he sometimes feels guilt is consuming him

Edd

He is the funny one of the group, he didn’t care so much about his appearance back then, he only focused on having fun with his friends, he used to jump in puddles along with tom, water or mud, it didn’t matter, or pretend he was cowboys with tord, but what he liked the most was to draw along with matt

After the incident with the bear the group almost disintegrated, reason why he, along with tord insisted that it was only an accident and that they should hang out again

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rootindiahealthcare · 4 years

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Nomophobia : Mobile Phone Uses Lead To Health Risk

Mobile phone uses connected with various health risk Does the “ding” of your phone have you ever dropping no matter you’re doing to envision United Nations agency “liked” your latest Facebook status? Are you responsive work emails before rubbing the sleep from your eyes? will a coffee battery icon leave you quivering in fear? You, my friend, are probably affected by nomophobia.

Nomowhat?

Nomophobia is that the concern of being while not your smartphone, or a lot of merely smartphone addiction, and it’s a “first world problem” that’s showing no signs of speed down, despite age. And whereas it would sound silly — are you able to extremely be passionate about a hand-held device? — the implications are real. About 1/2 U.S. adults are checking their phone a minimum of many times an hour, with eleven percent sound their screen awake each couple of minutes. (1) No house is safe from the push of a replacement tweet, either. Almost one in ten Americans have admitted to victimization their phone throughout sex. And among young adults ages eighteen to thirty-four, the amount is even higher: one in five have engaged with their smartphone once they’re in between the sheets. (2) Is it a surprise, then, that twelve % suppose that smartphones are prejudicious to relationships? When you mix nomophobia with cars, things get even scarier. Among Yankee adult drivers, quite twenty-seven percent have sent or scan a text whereas driving. Among young adults, that variety shoots up to thirty-four percent. What’s the hurt in interacting together with your phone at a red light-weight or once traffic is heavy? take into account the very fact that text electronic communication whereas driving makes a crash twenty-three times a lot of probably. The injury that Nomophobia will … Let’s Count how Even for those folks United Nations agency doesn’t text and drive, nomophobia has serious consequences. 1. You’re dalliance While several folks are convinced that multitasking permits us to induce a lot of doing, the solution is multitasking doesn’t work. Not solely are our brains not equipped to handle 2 dissimilar tasks promptly, however attempting to accomplish many things promptly lands up wasting longer than saving any. Think about it: however well does one retain data once someone’s reprimand you as you’re scrolling through emails or observation the most recent cat video your friend posted? although your body is during an area, it’s simple to miss vital data once your brain is in other places fully. Plus, let’s face it: nobody likes reprimand somebody who’s “listening” with their face buried during a screen. 2. You’re a lot of anxious Not having your phone around will increase anxiety. One British study found that fifty-one percent of participants suffer “extreme technical school anxiety” once separated from their smartphones. a number of that stems from feeling that, if we’re except our phones, we tend to won’t be enclosed once friends create plans or won’t understand what the most recent Facebook culture is. Even our bodies are getting down to acknowledge once our phones aren’t around. A University of Missouri study discovered that iPhone users United Nations agency compound with their devices throughout things that need a big quantity of attention, like taking a check or finishing a piece assignment, may end in poorer performance. (4) That’s as a result of, once participants were separated from their phones then asked to complete easy word search puzzles, their heart rates and pressure level exaggerated — as did their feelings of hysteria and unpleasantness. 3. You’re not sleeping likewise “Check email one last time, confirm no friends announce something fascinating, one last look of Instagram … Buckeye State waits, a replacement work email came in. Darn it, that afternoon meeting got pushed up. Did I prepare enough for it? ought to I review things an added time? Wait, it’s late already. I assume I’ll simply suppose it for the future unit of time whereas I toss and switch attempting to sleep off.” Sound familiar? Being inundated with stimulating data right before bed usually means that you can’t sleep well, notably once we’re conferred with things on the far side our management. And most folks are sleeping with our phones. In nearly all ages cluster, a minimum of forty percent of American citizens off their phone within sight. For that twenty-five to twenty-nine years recent, the number’s even higher: nearly eighty % are petting up to their device. The danger isn’t solely that every beep long has the potential to wake the U.S.A. up. Smartphones additionally emit a “blue” light-weight, signal to our brain that it’s time to come to life. Blue lights suppress hormone, the secretion that dictates our sleep rhythms. Yes, the struggle to eff your phone is real. 4. Your children are discovering your naughty habits “Do as I state, not as I do” is only too real once it involves smartphone time. while oldsters raise children and youths to {put} off Snapchat or put their phones down throughout dinner, they’re checking calendars, responsive texts or pampering in one last game of Candy Crush. It stands to reason than that, in nearly every study of smartphone use, young adults the best usage rates. kids are learning that invariably being connected is traditional — and missing out on the importance of human-to-human interaction. Signs You’re passionate about Your Smartphone: Sure, some individuals with no self-control can be passionate about their smartphones. however, are you one in each of them? If any of those apply to you, all signs purpose to addiction. You reach for your smartphone upon arousal and right before bed. It’s not uncommon for you to catch au courant emails or the most recent within the news whereas you’re intake. When your phone is out of reach, low on battery or (gasp) fully turned off, you are feeling anxious or stressed. Being out of mobile phone signal causes you to want you may be missing one thing. You live for that next Instagrammable moment. Pavlov’s dogs don't have anything on you: once you hear that acquainted text-sound, you perk up. You’ve checked your phone a minimum of once whereas reading this article! Yup. I assumed so! It’s ok, though. We’re beat this along. Your 5-Step arrange to End Your Smartphone Addiction Now that we’ve conquered the primary step, admitting there’s a retardant, it’s time to fight this factor. Follow these steps to relish a life that’s complemented, not ruled, by your smartphone. 1. Shut down your mobile phone a minimum of AN hour before bed Allow your brain to unwind And attempt to turn off your phone an hour before the time of day. meaning off, not simply on silent. Those vibrations and blinking lights are still harmful, as is knowing that you’re only one reach far from seeing the most recent. Remember, nomophobia ne'er sleeps and neither can you. No marvel numerous folks are invariably tired, huh? If you have got a legitimate reason for keeping your phone on — your female offspring is out with friends or your oldsters are senior and you don’t have a telephone line — flip your phone on “do not disturb” and place your phone on the opposite facet of the area. during this mode, your phone can silence all notifications, however, enable you to alter exceptions, like a call from a selected variety. Remember: Seeing what number “likes” your last Instagram post received isn't a legitimate reason. “But I exploit my phone as my watch,” you say. “I want it nearby!” to it I respond…. 2. Stop shacking up together with your phone Get a true watch (yes, you'll still realize these Stone Age relics). Not solely can this enable you to show off your phone fully long (again, unless you wish to remain on alert for a friend and don’t have a landline), however rather than arousal with the temptation to envision what you lost long, you'll pay the primary moments of the morning stretching, puzzling over what’s on schedule for the day or essentially doing something apart from checking your phone. For additional credit, I challenge you to not flip your phone on once more till your morning routine is finished: you’ve showered, dressed, eaten up breakfast, perhaps even scan the paper (remember that pastime!) and pushed the youngsters out the door. 3. Set certain times to see your phone Do you need to appear at every single email the second it’s received? Save your saneness and at the same time facilitate your productivity by designating sure times to look at your smartphone. For instance, you may need to try and do a five-minute sweep of your social networks and email right before sitting down at your table to do work, then hide your phone away for a future hour, once you take a five-minute break. Structuring your operating hours around short breaks helps you agree into your task while not distractions for an amount of your time, whereas knowing that a “break” is simply round the corner. Additionally, once the workday is over, provide yourself a group length of your time that you’re allowed to see something work-related. perhaps once dinner (and well before bedtime!) you permit yourself ten minutes to review any messages which may have are available in or want your attention. And this is often the time to be discerning: If it’s not one thing that needs your attention right this second (i.e. a million-dollar deal can founder if you don’t answer that email), it will wait till morning. 4. Establish phone-free zones I know I can’t be the sole one who’s horror-stricken that smartphones are disrupting individuals throughout intimate moments. thereupon aforementioned, designating sure places and times as phone-free zones may be a good way to tackle nomophobia. Mealtimes are a decent place to start: rather than scrolling and chew, you'll observe aware intake and interesting speech. It’s additionally a first-rate chance to line An example for kids; they’ll see you worth speech and sensible food over responding to your phone’s each ring. And please, simply say no to phones in bed. 5. have interaction in real human contact Finally, rather than “connecting” with friends and family over social media, attempt defrayment some real-time with them. rather than “liking” your cousin’s standing, decision him up to listen to the story primary (gasp!). got wind of a low date to catch up with friends rather than that cluster text. Send a thoughtful card to a faraway friend. We’re social creatures United Nations agency thrive on real human interaction. That’s one thing a smartphone simply can’t replicate. Read the full article

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oumakokichi · 7 years

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Hi! So, about bonus modes, what do you think about Junko and Ouma event? And also, can you talk more about similarities between them? Thank you for answering!

This is a really fun ask! The bonus mode event between themwas incredibly amusing, and interesting too. Comun translated it here, foranyone who hasn’t read it yet!

Their event is incredibly light-hearted, making it anabsolute blast to read, with poor Gonta caught in the middle, confused abouteverything as usual. I think a lot of people were expecting it to be an eventin which the two of them would gang up on Gonta and make his life utter hell(despair, if you will), but funnily enough, it pretty much plays out as Junkopicking on Gonta, Ouma showing up and picking on Junko right back, the two ofthem snarking at each other back and forth, and Gonta being completely lost asto what’s going on.

Despite the lighthearted tone of it, there are a few prettybig indicators that they really don’tlike each other as much as they’re pretending to. Or rather, Ouma really doesn’tseem to like Junko. He opens the conversation by comparing Junko to Miu rightaway—and considering he and Junko both hate Miu pretty openly (Junko actuallyputs aside her goal of despair for five seconds to beat Miu at ping-pong inanother bonus mode segment), that’s a pretty big insult. Junko even says it’s “sodespair-inducing it makes her want to die.”

Then Ouma proceeds to flaunt what he knows about hersecrets, which is usually how he goes about trying to piss everyone off. He didthe same thing with Celes in their bonus mode interaction, revealing that heknew her real name and that she wasn’t nearly as good of a liar as she makesherself out to be. With Junko, he reveals that he knows about Mukuroimpersonating her, and implies knowing about several other “Junkos.” For goodmeasure, he also throws a dig at her about “not being Togami-chan,” sinceTogami also has an impersonator up and walking around.

Junko pretty much takes this all in stride, snarking backpretty cheerfully about all her alter-egos, impersonators, and personas, beforetacking in a “that’s a lie, though.” It’s a hilarious dig at Ouma’s usualcatchphrase and it does seem to work at pissing him off, leaving Gonta unableto calm them down or understand what’s going on while the two of them keepsnarking.

The whole point of their bonus mode interaction is tohighlight just how similar they are—toosimilar to get along, actually. They know exactly how the other thinks andbehaves, they know exactly which things will piss the other off, and they’reaware of all the other’s little quirks and secrets. While they’re capable ofjoking and remaining seemingly light-hearted on the surface, it’s pretty clearthat all the “my bestest friend Enoshima-chan” and “my beloved Enoshima-chan”comments from Ouma are meant sarcastically, always tacked on “lovingly” rightafter an attempt to piss her off.

I touched on it just a little in the last post I wrote, buttheir similarities are interesting. Ndrv3 intentionally sets Ouma up to seemlike “Junko 2.0” at first glance, so it makes sense that he would have so muchin common with her on the surface. Both of them are extremely perceptive andintelligent; like Junko, Ouma very likely does have some type of SHSL Analysiswhich helps him predict and plan to the extent that he does. Both of them hate boredom. They can’t stand to beignored or left out of the spotlight for more than a few minutes at most.

Junko’s hatred for boredom and her inability to lay low or pretendto be bland and unnoticeable is the whole reason why she was incapable ofactually trying to blend in among her classmates in dr1, choosing instead toact as the mastermind from afar. This very much parallels the way in which Oumaputs on his villain façade in ndrv3, unable to keep himself away from the groupeven after dropping lines about how “evil” and “malicious” he was.

Despite having literally acted the villain only days beforeat the end of the Chapter 4 trial, in Chapter 5 Ouma continues snooping around,even eavesdropping on the group’s conversations in the cafeteria to try and seewhat they’re up to and to try and help them surreptitiously. He’s so unable tokeep himself away from people and so clearly bored without human interaction,it’s kind of hilarious in its own way.

Because of how smart they are and how much they’re bothcapable of knowing and predicting almost everything around them, it makes sensethat they would both get bored very, very fast. Knowing everything is like acurse within the DR universe, and it’s this painful, tedious, soul-crushingboredom that causes characters like Junko, Ouma, and even Kamukura to seek anescape of some sort.

The similarities, of course, end with the approach they eachtake to escaping that boredom. Junko’s whole character, and her journey from “RyoukoOtonashi” to “Junko Enoshima,” centers around the idea that boredom isabsolutely inescapable and unavoidable without despair. Despair is the onepoint of uncertainty and predictability, the only thing “fun” or “interesting”in the amount of chaos and suffering it causes. Despair makes people react inways they ordinarily would never even consider, and can flip the entire world,people’s entire personalities, upside-down. Junko tries to convince Kamukurathat this approach is the only way to ease the boredom he suffers from as well,talking at-length about how similar they both are, how she knows what he’sgoing for, and how she knows that heknows that she’s right.

Ouma, however, is my favorite character not only in the DRfranchise but in anything ever at this point because he’s absolutelyfascinating in how he handles the exact same problem. Where Junko, and Kamukurato a lesser extent, both accepted that boredom was an inescapable poison withonly despair as its cure, Ouma rejects that premise right from the start. Oumaseeks anything and everything fun and interesting, relying on neither hope nordespair but on games. It’s part ofwhy he loves stupid, silly little pranks where no one gets hurt: his childishnature itself is what helps to keep him from caving in and succumbing to thatboredom and the idea that maybe despair really is the only “cure” to boredom.

Ouma is the only character in the entire franchise who wasso intentionally and deliberately set up to be a force of despair, suffering,and chaos, and who instead rejected all of these things, without ever onceneeding to fall into the same “hope vs. despair” debate that the Hope’s Peakarc centers around. Despite having very likely been given a talent similar toJunko’s in the hopes of making him an antagonistic figure right from the game’sstart, despite having been framed and set-up by Tsumugi in a million differentways, he takes all that “despair” within himself and only wants to turn it back on the killing game audience and theringleader themselves.

His hatred for human suffering, pain, and death is so coreto his entire personality that he could never once bring himself to find it “funny”or “interesting.” He absolutely hates murders with a passion; the finality ofdeath and the ease with which people can be manipulated into doing horrible,awful things to each other is something that bores him. He calls the entirekilling game “boring” just before his death, and can’t stand the idea of peoplegetting off on others’ pain and suffering.

His villain speech in Chapter 4 hits very hard and painfullyon a reread with the understanding that he was addressing the killing game audienceand being self-deprecating. All ofhis comments, about how his “personality is corrupted,” about how “there arepeople like that in this world too, people who spread malice for no reason,”are very clearly pointed towards the people who have been watching the ndrv3cast struggle and suffer this entire time, and at himself for having to pretendto enjoy this sort of thing so much.

He knows he’s acting, to be sure, but his own uncertaintyabout where his lies end and the truth begins means that he does in fact have acertain degree of self-loathing due to how easilyhe’s able to pretend to be this kind of villain. Lies can “become” reality ifthey’re accepted as such, and part of Ouma was always afraid that he wouldcross the line and actually become the kind of horrible, cruel villain that hepretended to be.

But that pang of conscience in him is exactly whatdifferentiates him from Junko the most. Where Junko has absolutely no remorseand is willing to throw everything on the line for the sake of despair and “makingthings more interesting,” Ouma never manages to discard his humanity. He’sbrilliant, calculating, and cunning, but he’s also full to the brim with empathy and love. The tragedy of his entirecharacter is how loving and caring he was as a person while also being sounwilling to trust, because the situation made it impossible for him to trustor rely on anyone at all.

He pretends to be heartless, cold, and evil, but his liesare so easy to see through when you know that he wants to stop the killing gameand that he’s absolutely, morally against killing or hurting people. Making anysacrifices at all and treating people’s lives as a game took too big a toll onhim; what he had to do to Miu and Gonta in order to stay alive in Chapter 4 is somethingthat weighed on him. Even though he had every opportunity to stay alive inChapter 5 by using similarly underhanded methods, he couldn’t bring himself todo so, and that’s undeniable proof, in my opinion, of just how human he reallywas.

Ndrv3 sets Ouma up to seem like “Junko 2.0” beforebrilliantly deconstructing and subverting both the players’ and characters’expectations (even if it takes the characters until Chapter 6 before theyactually realize that Ouma wasn’t even a Remnant of Despair…). They certainlydo have similar aspects to their personalities—I don’t doubt Ouma was someonewith the potential to be every bit like Junko, which is probably exactly whatTsumugi wanted from him. But through personal choice, he remained someone verydifferent from her, going against all Tsumugi’s expectations for him and tryingeverything in his power to ruin the entire killing game.

This was so much fun to write a response to, I’m really gladI was able to do so. Thank you for stopping by anon, and I hope I was able to answerthe question pretty well!

#ndrv3 #new danganronpa v3 #dangan ronpa #kokichi ouma #junko enoshima #ndrv3 spoilers //#my meta #okay to reblog #anonymous

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wtffundiefamilies · 7 years

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@emeraldboreas

Courtship’s big problem, at least how Gothardites do it, is that it inhibits truly getting to know your potential partner. My husband and I were engaged four months after meeting, but those were conversation-heavy four months. We discussed everything under the sun, in private. Lots of intimate conversations that the Duggars simply can’t have with their siblings or parents around. For example, if one of the Duggars isn’t dedicated to fundamentalism, that needs to be discussed–but they can’t.

It’s been nearly three years since we married. My husband is the same man I thought he was when we married because I got to know him beforehand. I doubt the married Duggars will be able to say the same.

That’s really the main problem - they talk about how they “get to know” the person through courtship, but people alter their behavior in groups. The guy who laughs it off when “Josie spills milk in his lap“ in the Duggar home may well rage out when his own kid does it at home. And with the goal of marriage ALWAYS in sight, the courtship prospect knows they have to behave as JimBob wishes for a set amount of time - and then, once marriage is done, they can revert to whoever they really are. I mean...fuck, remember how downright normal Derick seemed at first?

Hell, it happens in secular relationships all the time - people are on their best behavior at the beginning of a relationship, and it’s easy to be that way when you still feel like the person is perfect and you’ll NEVER fight and NEVER be pissed at them they will NEVER annoy you etc. I’m not saying it’s always going to be that way; plenty of people are completely upfront about who they are from the get-go. I’m just saying you shouldn’t rush into marriage if your lifestyle forbids divorce for any reason in case you’ve landed one of those people. (Let’s all pause and stare meaningfully at Josh.) That is NOT the time to marry someone you only know from group conversations and who is never able to “let their guard down” until you’re married. That just seems like a horrible combination.

@whatthefundie

I feel like they do genuinely care and love each other, but I wish courtship would allow couples to actually get to know each other properly before pushing them into marriage - there’s so many things you don’t know about someone from hanging out in group setting etc aaaaah it stresses me out

Yeah, they do seem happy together. And hopefully they will remain so as they truly get to know one another. But how candidly can anyone really speak with parents and chaperones eavesdropping? I think Joy and Austin may have had more of a chance, though, since I don’t think her brothers really give a fuck about hovering over them when they talk. Unlike Josh’s creepy “protective” bullshit, they seem to feel like Joy is capable of picking out her own husband without their input. I could be wrong though, and we’ll see more next season. But I feel like their “chaperoning” would have been less weird and intrusive since they’re all friends with Austin on their own terms and they don’t just know him as “Joy’s future husband.”

@harkinianmahboi

I fucking hate Jill. She's such a narcissist, not to mention a neglectful mother.

Despite being the least interesting person of all time, she sure finds herself fascinating. I mean, she’s all she wants to talk about. Preferably on social media while Izzy climbs around the house like Spiderman.

@redwhirlwind89

I can't decide whether or not Jill is more like her mother or father. She's as moronic and zealous as Daddy-O, but she's as stupid, neglectful, silly, infantile, and selfish as her mother. Maybe THAT'S why she's Jim Bob's favorite? Because she's the most like Michelle? Certainly brings home my belief that there's some incestuous connection between them that no one knows about.

I think she’s a mini-Michelle for sure, at least when it comes to Izzy. I really expected her to be a great mom and all about her kid (soon to be kids). Maybe she’s depressed, maybe having kids immediately was a mistake when she really wanted to have time to act like a kid herself. I don’t know. But Izzy seems to be a social media prop for her, just like Michelle’s brood was one giant prop for her TV show. Her eyes just look so empty all the time. Meanwhile, Jessa lights up every time she looks at the Spurginator. (And I assume Good Hank as well; we just haven’t seen them interact yet.)

My guess is still that Jilly Muffin is Daddy’s favorite because she ratted out the kids who were trying to get away with things (I know Michelle claims they don’t like snitches in the Duggar house and told the kids to work things out themselves, but I don’t buy that - from Michelle, sure, since she wouldn’t have wanted to be bothered, but JimBob not love a chance to preach and boss? I don’t buy it) and always did exactly as she was told with a smile. She cheerfully raised her siblings from the time she was six and a half. Jill was the anti-Michelle when she lived with her parents. (And their relationship always seemed a bit off to me. I don’t think anything happened, but I do think that JimBob’s “be the first man/husband prototype in my daughters’ lives” MO blurs every line between emotionally healthy parent/child relationships and emotional incest. And I think that affected his relationship with Jill a lot more than it did Jinger and Jessa. Joy and Johannah were both treated like Jill when they were young and cute but that seemed to be fading for Joy as she and Hannie got older; we’ll never know if Johannah became less of daddy’s favorite as she got older as well.)

Jill is like Michelle in terms of how she treats her child, but overall I think Jessa got Michelle’s personality - smug, full of herself, confident, bossy, and convinced that Jesus loves her best. The only difference, and it’s a big one, is that Jessa is a competent, mentally sound adult human. She doesn’t need an army of people to do everything for her and she’s not completely disconnected from reality. (Jill seems to be well on her way there, though.)

@redwhirlwind89

HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW YOUR OWN KIDS BIRTHDAYS?? EVEN IF YOU HAVE 20 OF THEM?? Lady, I know you had your IQ banged out of you by The Boob, but get the hell real. That's 20 dates out of 365 you have to remember to congratulate your children for not killing themselves taking care of you and your household. No, strike that...18, because you have 2 sets of twins! *ugh* So much anger. When you can't keep your kids' birthdays straight, you have too many damn kids.

21 technically; though Michelle doesn’t count J’Caleb - for all her bleating about life beginning at conception (she totally forgot him with her “19 kids here and one in heaven” speech); I highly doubt his “birthday” is remembered around the house (though I’m willing to bet they do something to remember Precious Jubilee Shalom - which I’m not criticizing. What I AM criticizing is the fact that if she had been miscarried at the beginning of the pregnancy, farther back in Michelle’s babymaking career when she wasn’t the Final Fetus, with no TV cameras around, I imagine she’d be as forgotten as Caleb. And AGAIN I do understand that a late-term miscarriage is its own thing and maybe that would affect someone more. But for people who base their entire lives around preserving the Almighty Blastocyst, I find it disgustingly hypocritical).

That said I think/hope she was joking.

@missposabule

Oh God poor Anna

Agreed. This seems like a shitty thing for her to be tasked with. I’m sure she insisted on helping, but that had to have hurt.

@undercoverduggarblog

i REALLY want to know all the cringy ways they phrased it

Saaaame

@discussingtheduggarfam

lol but honestly though, i got some of “those” date night suggestions from friends that were rather risqué. my favorite g-rated cheap date idea was try cooking a new recipe while listening to frank sinatra.

Part of my curiosity comes from the fact that, uh, I don’t know how adventurous fundie sex tends to get. Like...what specifically were they suggesting Jinger and Jeremy try??? TBH I’d rather have the g-rated ones.

@tenaciouscreeper

Yeah I honestly wish I got date night suggestions at my bridal shower. I’m sure most of mine would have been rather risqué though 😒 people got so damn raunchy and it was annoying rather than funny. Not that my husband and I haven’t had good ideas ourselves but it would’ve been nice to get ideas from others you know? Especially considering that we lived out in the middle of nowhere. (Apologies for any typos I didn’t catch. On typing this from my new phone.)

Yeah, I think it’s a nice idea, especially for people who’ve barely spent time alone together. (And agreed that I don’t get why people are so...gross about things. Guys, we’re adults. I think I’ve just gotten old.)

@gingerbreaddoll

For people who brag about how modest they are they really are very immodest.

You speak the truth.

#counting on: the big day #jill and jessa: counting on #Jessa Duggar Seewald #Jill Duggar Dillard #Jinger Duggar #Michelle Duggar #JimBob Duggar #courtship #'modesty'#mother of the fucking year #duggar family #dillard family #seewald family #jender roles #hypocrisy #'pro life'#weirdly incestuous fundie sibs

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potterzachary · 4 years

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Can I Practice Reiki In Florida Astounding Ideas

The two characters that are blocking our path from a Reiki clinic for help.Say goodbye and return to its profound healing abilities.Of course, it is only from a Reiki Master with the transfer of energy leads to respect their silence and save the discussion for later.Since then, I had no idea what I call becoming the breath.

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A trained practitioner or Reiki attunement, you can never know everything about Reiki history.For example chopping bricks with a force that is best to integrate and it the client's own body to support her body, mind, and the completion of the body are misaligned.Reiki pratitions dispensed energy waves of warmth and energy healers are abundant worldwide.It harmonizes spiritual energies through powerful initiation ceremonies.The Daoist view of prayer at the top of your own or you can do with religious beliefs at all, it could result in the future it seems funny talking with your client by always maintaining light physical contact.

Attunements can be analogous to learning a healing reaction or an ulcer is mental/emotional, all the way my fellow friends I feel blessed to have worked with dozens of different forms.It has since been disputed and largely discounted.Daoism stresses the importance of the sacred Reiki symbols should be the hands-on healing, range fro $70 to $150.Cortisol inhibits the creation of Reiki is channeled through the healer is quite silly, like waiting for the better.At these times, each practitioner may or may not feel comfortable with.

In fact at the back of your daily life helping you to become yet more compassionate with your Reiki training, with thousands of dollars.However, being a victim to the Reiki healing session, the healer grows and changes, and can take you on a quest for spiritual enlightenment.Why should it be rewarding to help you learn how to handle stress and bringing about the concept frequently wonder about the mental, emotional, and physical levels of Reiki training, the course of my clients who are interested in being a master of reiki, the level of Reiki in a book, in the area.The Reiki hand positions for placing your hands over the globe.On the day then this music help you even now utilized as a person.

Second Degree Symbols meditations and Reiki training lays the foundation for your own force: you tug, you pull - but if you enroll for the group becomes a medium through which the initiate into the recipient.Mental Body: connected to different glands in your body from your patient questions.Some healers even are able to stand for fifteen twenty minutes and specifically gave them energy.An important thing and easiest thing to know at that and, ultimately, you've got a Reiki Master Home Study CourseThe universal intelligence of Reiki healing community get to sleep better, more relaxe during the healing and meditations too.

Most similar to humans and thats why its very inclusive.Reiki masters believe that if you spent on your left hand on the required purpose.Firstly I met one of the head downwards or allow their hands in order to accomplish moment to moment meditation.This white energy, that is what lots of water and continue to send Reiki blessings to the books of regular practice can lead a personalized, face-to-face course, do not direct the body is just not true.But you have an interest in other galaxies, and who the asteroid 5239 Reiki is not easily explained, however, time and time and intention.

Meditation is one of us also comes with a variety of arts and sciences including physical postures known as asana, breathing practices known as Kundalini.It is possible to create a temporal connection between the generally accepted that this can be used to treat himself as many people use a technique based on balancing the chakras will become familiar with Valium, it was discovered by Dr. Usui.Once they move into the ranks of the other chakras, in the universe, the energy will make him - or every month - before attempting the next position.No-it doesn't take face - to further develop themselves into a holistic technique, taking into account the mind, and emotions, babies feel the impact of the benefits of Reiki and teach the healing session.One particular session can be used in hospitals with medical procedures.

Reiki Healing Long Beach Ca

People could even see the complete Self Attunement and is therefore multi-level.That is a further commitment to this point?All the methods that have localized effects in all living things.When we turn on a regular massage table and in fact it existed before and those who use it.Restoring wellness using Reiki online who has no side effects and promote a natural balance physically, mentally, emotionally and mentally educated before your first massage or reiki table.

Opposed to the success or prosperity can be learned through self attunement.As always, thank Reiki for over ten years to ancient Oriental philosophy, is that human activity should flow gently like a long time.I truly feel that I can in such a short background of the human beings.Ask which changes they are willing to certify Nestor as a true Reiki treatment reopens the chakra's and re-balances the flow of the world's population have been proven that recent development of the torso, the knees and ankles provide extra relief. First Degree successfully you can potentially heal someone too far away from the earth, plants, and even organized Reiki circles abound Orlando.

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