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rawmeknockout · 24 days

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Your possessive Dadatron got into my brain with the cyberformed liason. While poor obsessed Rodimus is not being left alone with the Liason he's also one of the handful of bots outside of the medics that consistently remember the Liason was a wholeaft adult human and treat them as such, along with Rung, Swerve, Perceptor and Whirl.

This also leads to Megs and Mags being shocked when the Liason just matter-of-factly tells Rodimus, "I'm not opposed to the idea of a potential date in the future, but right now I don't have enough coordination in this body to try Meteor surfing. Worse the medics said Interfacing is out untill I have some concious control of my transformation sequence preferably after I've scanned an altmode."

Just two old Mechs clutching their pearls stunned In Horror while Rodimus is blithly is going on with the conversation.

"Wait you haven't scanned an alt yet?! I thought you'd checked all the potentials on the Lost Light?"Rodimus looked shocked.

"I did but nothing clicked or activated the sequence." The Liason shrugged helplessly. "It's not like this frame had one preloaded."

"Huh you should have told me. Next time we get off on a planet you should come with me and Drift and Ratchet. See if any of the wildlife triggers-"

"I forbid it! Ultra Magnus choked out. The other three mechs turned to look at him.

"Ultra Magnus," Megatron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please don't discourag Rodimus when he makes sensible seguestions."

"I, no." The Duely Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accords gathered his wits. "No Rodimus' seguestion regarding his alt mode acquisition was not the issue. The conversation with regarding Interfacing however-" The Liason cut him off voice flat with uncharacteristic frustration.

"I do not have the spoons to say this gracefully or diplomatically right now so I'm going to be blunt. I am an adult human, note the term adult, in the frame of cybertronian newbuild. I'm currently experiencing frame dysphoria and body dismorphia. And you can add gender disphoria because i have a gender and if this frame I'm in lined up with it I would be a femme!"

"I'm aware of what interfacing is. In the before times," the Liason gestured curtly at their frame, "I had quite a few lively slightly tipsy afterwork discussions at Swerve's compairing and contrasting human and cybertronian sexulity, sensuality, and romanticism. Which Rodimus took part in. Spark play, Plug and Play and feild play arent options for humans but Valve Plug is" Ultra Magnus' engine choked in shock. Megatron took a reflexive back in extreme discomfort.

"I dont think I need to hear about that!" Megatron cut her off hastily. It was a mark of his discomfort and Ultra Magnus's distraction they both missed Rodimus pulling a packet of Cesium Crisps out of his subspace.

"No Mechs, these are exactly some of the sorts of conversations that need to happen with anybot who steps up to Parent me if this is permanent. Be my Mentor," she added to clarify the twin looks of confusion. "I am a middle-aged parent of grown children with an ex-husband who remains a dear friend now that he's out of the closet. I know the two of you are both trying to parent me. God and Primus both forefend my body dies of old age before Brainstorm and Perceptod can fix me because the number of Mecha on this ship who are psychologically capable dealing with the complexities of mentoring a newbuild that is simultaneously a sentient organic who is of analagous to their devlopmental age are profoundly limited."

"How about Rang," Rodimus seguested just a bit too cheerfully around a mouthful of snacks.

"Rung, unfortunately, as my therapist has a professional conflict of interest. And since you guys have, between all your factions, a grand total of two therapists left alive it's not like switching providers-"

"Oh! Liason! There you are!" First Aid called out, cheerfully oblivious conversation he was saving Megatron and Ultra Magnus from. "Ratchet just commed me, he's looking for you. He's freed up his schedule to chaparone err moniter Brainstorm and Perceptor while they run some tests on you. Well mostly Brainstorm needs the monitering. If you could come down to the lab?"

"Oh best not keep them waiting then," Rodimus put in quickly husteling First Aid and the Liason off down the hall. "I'll walk with you, Mags and Megs have to go on shift on the Bridge."

Well this ended up longer than I expected. The characters that live in my brain just started talking and went for it.

How do you reckon Protective UM and Possessive Megatron are taking this conversation? Or this type given that Liason suddenly went from generic insert to proto-OC with a backstory while I was typing. I cant be the only one on here who's had a character grab the plot ball and run away with it for a bit.

Megatron is fine with them having a life before even tho it’s not preferred but they’re a MECH now and he knows better (this is a lie) than anyone what type of mentoring you need he’s completely ignoring this conversation bc that was your life as a human, this is your life now

Magnus is conflicted but ultimately he still keeps other mechs away. you may have some knowledge of Cybertronian sexuality, but it’s not just the interfacing that’s the problem. All the mechs on the lost light are fucked up and aren’t just looking for vanilla sex.

#asks

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chachamaru-s · 2 years

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you’ve gotten into my bloodstream

dabi x fat!fem!reader tags: loss of virginity, passive reader, insecurity, dubcon elements if you squint (y/n wants it shes just insecure), experienced dabi, possessive dabi, praise, wrist tying, vaginal fingering, squirting, unprotected sex word count: ~3k a/n: this was three weeks in the making and ill be honest, i lost steam at the end so if it feels rushed, this is why

Dabi feels dangerous, exciting and new in ways you can't articulate. So when he pushes you through the threshold of your front door, lips attached to your neck, you don't even consider pushing him away. He kicks the door shut, moving his attention to your mouth. He nips and sucks at your lips before thrusting his tongue into your mouth, prompting a soft moan from you as he asserts his dominance. Already you feel heady, intoxicated by his touch. He always does this to you, gets you all worked up with no release. Granted, that's partially your fault - your insecurities never let your make-out sessions progress to anything satisfying.

The two of you fumble your way to the couch, ever connected by lips or hands and nerves start to build in your stomach as Dabi pushes you down and hovers over you. The look in his eyes is enough to tell you what he wants, and much as you'd like to give him whatever would please him, you aren't sure if you can give him this. Intimacy has never been your strong suit, and when you hated looking at yourself in the mirror, it's hard to imagine someone looking at you the way Dabi is right now.

His hands wander, and with every roll they glance over you have to fight the urge to cringe. What does he even see in you? What could he possibly want with you? His interest in you confounded you from the start, and his apparent desire for you did nothing to clear anything up. You've never had anyone touch you the way he does, kiss you like they're starved for you, look at you like you're all they ever wanted. But Dabi does, even when he tries to hide it, you can see it. So why are you so nervous? Why does the idea of escalating things fill you with simultaneous fear and excitement?

"Wait." You say as his hand travels up your shirt, and it takes him a moment but he pauses, looking at you with a question in his eyes. You feel suddenly bashful, as you do every time you put a stop to things. You don't want him to know about your insecurities, don't want to force him into a situation where he has to soothe your worries. He doesn't seem built for that kind of thing, even if you know he'd try in his own way.

"What?" He asks, looking at you as if he's daring you to give him a good reason to stop. You suddenly feel like you can't, like withholding this from him will ruin your relationship. You like to think Dabi wouldn't drop you for not putting out, but isn't that what guys always wanted? Sex?

"Well - I - are you sure?" You ask lamely and he gives you an amused look.

"Am I sure I want to fuck you into the couch? Absolutely." He says, going to resume his movements under your shirt but you seize his wrist and look at him, willing him to understand your meaning but it doesn't work. Unfortunately, the two of you have not yet perfected that.

"I mean you say that, but I'm not exactly attractive under there." And that's it. You don't know what reaction you expect from him. Maybe indifference, maybe amusement, maybe anger. Whatever it is, you certainly don't expect what you get.

"And I look like Frankenstein's monster. Your point?" That startles a laugh out of you, and his lips quirk in return.

"Yea, but you're still hot." You say, and God help you, you mean it. There was something alluring about him from the moment you saw him. That he had ruined flesh all over didn't faze you. He was perfect as he was. Maybe this was his way of telling you that he thought the same about you.

"So are you. Now can I go on? 'Cause once I get you naked, I'm not stopping." The blatant want in his tone and eyes makes you flush. No one's ever wanted you like this before, that's why you were well into your twenties and still a virgin. Somehow, you trust Dabi with this. Trust him to be your first. So you nod and his hand resumes its ascent until he's fondling your breast, leaning in to kiss you more gently than he ever has before.

Pushing your bra away to afford better access, Dabi rolls your pebbled nipple between his fingers, eliciting a gasp from you. This seems to please him as he gives it another pinch. You had no idea you were so sensitive there until this very moment, the sensation of him playing with you pooling heat deep in your belly. You felt flushed all over, itching for him to touch you more, in different places. It's a desire you've kept locked up tight for long enough, and now he was helping to release it.

"Now, let's get this shirt off." He says, and you move to accommodate him as he pulls it off your body. With experienced hands, he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra and when all is said and done you lie back on the couch, avoiding looking at him as he takes in the sight of you like he never has before. He's silent for long enough that you worry he's begun to regret his decision to get you naked and you open your mouth to say something, arms reaching to cross over your chest, but he stops you.

"Hey. Don't hide from me." He says, uncrossing your arms. "This body is sexy." He says, running a hand down your waist, gripping the fat of your hip. "This body is desirable." He leans forward and kisses your breast. "And most importantly, this body is mine, so don't you fucking hide it from me." The possession in his tone does something to your insides, something not wholly unpleasant. No one's ever wanted you with such ferocity before, you can hardly believe this is even real.

"Your tits are amazing." He say, bringing his lips to each one before sucking a sensitive bud into his mouth, causing your breath to hitch at the sensation. Your reaction embarrasses you, causing your cheeks to flush redder but Dabi is too occupied with your breasts to notice, one hand traveling down your waist. Your stomach erupts with butterflies when you realize his destination, his hand slipping under your jeans and panties with practiced ease.

His fingers delve between your folds, seeking your clit out like a man on a mission. "Fuck, you're already so wet for me. Just begging to be fucked." And you gasp when his fingers rub you just right. "That feel good babydoll?" He asks, smugness in his tone. All you can do is whimper, rocking your hips to meet his fingers and chase the feeling he's providing. He chuckles at your wanton display, but doesn't still his fingers.

He continues rubbing circles around your clit, his mouth dividing its attention between your two breasts, and it isn't long until you feel tension building in your gut. Your hips rock every now and again to chase the feeling, the noises you're making embarrassing but you're too caught up in him to even care about it. When he pulls his hand away, you whine in disappointment, panting for the release he clearly isn't going to give you yet.

He chuckles at your desperation. "Patience." He soothes, working on the buttons of your jeans. His pace is agonizingly slow as he pulls your jeans down, pulling your shoes off when he gets there, then removing your jeans entirely. He's takes just as much time to remove your panties, watching as you squirm with every brush of his hands against your legs.

"Dabi." You sound pitiful, his name a whine and he stops the fingers that had been dancing up your legs. He looks at you with a quirked brow and something in his eye that makes you think he's about to tease you. The thought makes you rub your thighs together, hoping to relieve the want there.

"What do you want baby?" He asks, a quirk to his lips.

Your eyes widen at the thought of having to express yourself. You just wanted him to touch you where you ached for it. You felt red, flushed from head to toe in embarrassment and desire. You'd never had someone touch you there before. "I ... I don't know." You answer much to his amusement.

"Well lucky for you, I do. Lay there and trust me." He sounds so sure of himself that you wonder how many people he's been with and how you compare to them. Subconsciously you clamp your thighs together as if to keep Dabi from looking at you. He did not seem deterred by this and when he put his hands on either of your thighs to pry your legs open with a: "What did I tell you about hiding from me?" he met no resistance.

Using two fingers, he delves between your folds and stretches them wide to expose you to his gaze. You squirm under it, biting your lip to stifle any noises of the excitement pooling in your stomach. "What a pretty pussy." He compliments, tone laced with want. He looks at you like a man starved, and when he leans forward to bury his head between your thighs and taste you, he laps at you like it, too.

A jolt of electricity runs through your body at his tongue against your clit and you can't help but squirm. It feels good - great - but almost too much so. You're certain that the piercing on his tongue adds to the experience, but you don't have anything to compare it to. You moan low when his tongue hits a particularly sensitive spot, moving your hands to cover your face in embarrassment. You feel so vulnerable with his head between your thighs, his tongue exploring your folds, but heaven help you, you want more.

When he notices you hiding, he stills his tongue and reaches up to move your hands away. "Hide from me again and I'll bind your arms." He threatens, causing you to nod dumbly. It's not that you want to hide from him, it's not that you don't want him to make a home between your thighs, but this is all so new to you that you aren't really sure how to react.

"Good girl." He praises and you make a noise of desperation at him as he dives back into your pussy, tongue circling your clit and lips suckling on it in turn. You grind your pussy against his face, feeling his smile against you there as you do so. Clearly he's proud of himself for working you into such a state, but you don't care, you're just chasing that feeling at the tip of his tongue.

When he slides a finger into your wet cunt, you make a noise of surprise, discomfort and anticipation all at once. You fight the urge to cover your face once again as he pumps a single digit in and out of you. "Dabi!" You cry out, the sensation of his finger pumping into you fading from discomfort to pleasure.

"You're so tight. You ever done this before?" He asks, exploring your walls with a single finger. You shake your head no and he curses at your revelation. "So I'm your first? Lucky me. Don't worry babydoll, I'll make you feel even better." His words cause you to cover your face again, despite his threats but he follows through on them.

Taking you by the wrists, he pulls your arms over your head. "What did I say?" With his free hand he's working his belt off and once he manages to get it off, he wraps it around your wrists, securing it tight. You whimper at the way it feels, excitement pooling between your thighs making and even bigger mess of yourself than he already had. "Keep 'em up." He says and you nod your head in understanding.

He returns his attention to your clit, latching on while he reinserts his finger. You shudder at the feeling of it, squirming under his touch. He doesn't let up, lapping and sucking at your clit as he adds a second finger to the mix. The stretch is incredible, just this side of uncomfortable but in a way that makes you feel fuller than you've ever felt before. It's dizzying, causing heat to build in your belly once more as you approach your orgasm.

"Dabi...please...it's too much." You pant, but he's relentless, edging you closer and closer to climax. You're afraid of the fall, afraid of what it will do to you, embarrassed of how you'll sound or what expression your face will make. You move your bound hands as if you're going to push him away. "Dabi - ohhh." Your orgasm shakes its way through your body, your hands immediately grip in his hair as your hips jerk against his mouth, the feeling of your orgasm gushing from you might have been embarrassing if you had any presence of mind to feel such things. You felt like you were floating, breathing heavy, your body jittery with excitement.

He pulls away as you're coming down, your release dripping from his chin. He wipes it away and grins at you. "Damn, that was hot." He says, looking at you with wonder. "Think you can do that again on my cock?" His crass words might have made you flush if you weren't already red from head to toe. You can't imagine him putting that inside you. You feel untethered, still falling from the new heights you'd soared to.

You whimper, still overstimulated. The look he gives you makes the fire in you burn hotter. "Fuck, keep making noises like that, baby." He says, but he sounds much less in control of himself now. Taking your hands, he guides them to his cock. You feel the piercings there, fingers wrapping around the length of him as you wonder what they'll feel like inside. "See what you do to me?" His voice is low.

You're having a hard time accepting that you're the cause of his current state, that the fire that burns in you burns in him, too. "Put your hands back up for me." He instructs and you obey. His hands feel up your body, to your face and he leans down and kisses you languid and seeking. Down your body his hands travel again, one gripping the meat of your hip, the other stroking himself as he rubs his tip against your entrance.

He slides in, meeting some resistance as you gasp at the sensation. It's uncomfortable, but not wholly unpleasant, your pussy stretching for the first time to accommodate someone. He hisses a noise of pleasure as he finally bottoms out and you look down to see where the two of you are connected before he leans down and kisses you fiercely, pulling out just enough to slide right back in.

The longer his hips move against yours, the higher your pleasure soars. You moan against his lips, hands itching to touch him but unable to do so bound and slung over your head as they are. He licks into your mouth like a man parched, drinking up every noise he's pulling from you. His lips wander, to your cheek, along your jaw, kissing a line to your neck where he pants against your skin.

"You fit me so well," He praises, punctuating his words with a harsh thrust into you. The noise that elicits from you is embarrassing to say the least, but you're too lost in the sensations to worry about it too much. He leaves open-mouth kisses along your neck as he utters praises against your skin. "Such a good girl. Am I making you feel good?" He asks, nibbling at the skin at the juncture of your neck.

You whimper in response, his voice and praise working you into an even more needy state than you'd already been. "Use your words," He reprimands, "Let me hear that pretty voice."

"Yes." You gasp. "S'good, so good." Your voice is slurred with pleasure, a moan cut off when he kisses you again. You feel frantic, the need to have him as close as you possibly can mounting. You move your arms and loop them around his head, hands tugging at the ends of his hair as he kisses you breathless.

When he pulls away, you're both panting, but with your hands in their current position he can't get very far. He rests his forehead against yours, one of his hands reaching up to touch your cheek. His thumb traces a line across your bottom lip. "So good for me," He murmurs, looking at you with what can only be considered wonder. "You ready to cum again?" He asks.

"Dabi, please." You moan and he doesn't bother keeping you waiting. His hand slides between you, delving into your folds to tease your clit. Immediately this pulls a high-pitched whine from you, your hips trying to rise to meet his touch.

His pace picks up, thrusting deeper into you as he rubs circles over your clit. It doesn't take long before you're gasping for him, heat blooming deep in your belly, your breaths becoming shorter. You pull him down to kiss you, moaning into his mouth as your orgasm crashes over you. He curses as you clench around him, his hips stuttering against yours. As you come down from your high, he reaches his, spilling his load inside you without a second thought.

When all is said and done, the pair of you kiss slowly, holding onto each other in the aftermath of great pleasure.

"You enjoy yourself, babydoll?" He asks, affection in his voice. You nod your head and hum a yes, spent from all the stimulation. You bask in the feeling of him still on top of you, peppering kisses along your face, your neck, telling you how well you did for your first time.

You bask in his praise, tired and sated. When the two of you stop kissing long enough to talk, you ask him: “Can you untie my hands now?” Earning a chuckle in response.

#dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi #fat reader #fem!reader #cha writes a thing #oneshot #c: smut #c: bnha

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karofsky · 1 year

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I'm a big internalizer, because it's what works for me. Usually, things like this are reserved for one of the thousands of journals I frequent, but since I've been a bit wordier publicly this year, it's probably fitting I share this here. I also know that one of my resolutions next year is to be a bit more controlled with what I share-- not that I think sharing is a bad thing, but I've been a bit... explosive with my emotions this year, and while it can be therapeutic in the short term, it's something that ultimately I want to work on. I want to be open and honest, but only from a place where I'm not so impulsive.

So, here's a good bit of things I've experienced and learned from this year.

Water is key. I feel like this is the only way to start this list because it's a universal thing. Drink more water. It helps. If you are like me and chronically are awful with it, stick a straw in a glass. Use a mason jar. It's fun. Your body will thank you.

Crying is good. A bit much sometimes? Sure. Definitely, in fact. I've cried more this year than I have the last 10 combined, which sounds like a lot, but after summer of 2013 I pretty much stopped crying. I do think there is a lot to this personally. Unfortunately, I think some of it is hormonal, which is a reminder of just how far behind I am from where I wanted to be (i.e. my uterus is out for blood--literally-- when it should instead have been halted by sweet, sweet testosterone). But this has also been a year of great freedom for me, and one that I've found a lot of joy in. In fact, MOST of the crying I've done this year has been because I felt like I was allowed to feel things. It's been a slow burn these last few years, but it really did hit its peak this year. And if you were on the end of my What We Do In The Shadows snapchats of me reacting to episodes, my apologies. But it's been a needed release, and I think I'm now in a place where I am less explosive with it.

Health scares are very scary. I'm still avoiding addressing things. I'm terrified, but I know it's necessary, so it will come. But I need a little longer. This is not a proud admission. Do not do this.

Make lists. Make a hundred lists. Make four lists that you use simultaneously that all convey the same information but because they're in different mediums, your brain feels like it can keep track of it. Who cares. Your physical and digital desktops might look insane, but if it feels productive, who cares.

Those negative thoughts remain. This is something I've known for years, but it's a good idea to remind yourself about. I'm in a better place, I'm still here, and I will still be here to the best of my ability. But they happen, and they are real, and it's best to be aware of them. I wish they weren't, but that's a good reminder in itself that I'll be okay. I want to be better, and that's enough.

There will never be "time" to process. Time doesn't stop. Take breaks when you need them, take vacations, go to therapy, hole up in your room, whatever. But life keeps on happening, and it sucks, so you really just have to take it one day at a time. No matter how hard you try, and no matter how much you heal, things still happened, and you have to just move on. From my burnout to my PTSD... it's all still something I experienced. I have to leave it there sometimes, and just keep on going through my life. You can only shrink yourself so much.

Save money. This isn't really for me, because I do, and I will. I pride myself on this. But if you're saving, save more. Spend guilt-free sometimes, maybe even when you "shouldn't", but for the love of god, save some money. Save $100. Save $20. Keep a five-dollar bill in your wallet. Just anything. Even if you're like me and good with money. But also, if you're bad with money. It's a habit and you have to work on it. The world isn't going anywhere and with it remains the need to be financially smart. Just suck it up.

Stop watching shows or movies you don't like. Put down a book three chapters in if it sucks. Who cares. You can come back to it down the line, and maybe it'll be better. But you don't have to waste your time on something you chose to do for fun that isn't actually all that fun. Open a game you want to play only to close it on the menu screen. Shove your dinner in a tupperware if it's not something you want to eat. Whatever.

Shit is just going to happen. Did I go into this year knowing I'd go through anything that I went through? Literally no. Life is insane, and perhaps mine has been a bit crazier than others' lately, but stuff's gotta happen, and is gonna happen. Prepare yourself and your mind to know that, because it's a lot easier to deal with, say, a deadly hurricane headed straight for you or a phone about to explode somewhere it definitely should NOT explode when you play that "when life gives you lemons" Vine on repeat in your head. Sometimes you just get stuck with a bunch of lemons.

Anyway. I love New Year. It's been my second favourite holiday for most of my life. I don't believe in a Great Time Reset or resolutions, but I like the concept of a wiped slate. I will be the same person I was December 31st as I will be January 1st. Just with maybe a little more communal energy of "we can start again". Which is refreshing.

#personal

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designsjust · 2 years

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Thinking rock android

#THINKING ROCK ANDROID HOW TO#

#THINKING ROCK ANDROID UPGRADE#

#THINKING ROCK ANDROID ANDROID#

#THINKING ROCK ANDROID SOFTWARE#

Unfortunately, rules are set by the companies, not the candidates.

#THINKING ROCK ANDROID SOFTWARE#

At companies like Facebook and Google, the people are software engineers first, domain experts second. It is uncommon for front-end engineers to implement some of the complex algorithms tested in interviews. As a Front End Engineer myself, I can empathize with them.įront end is a specialized domain where engineers have to care about many issues related to browser compatibilities, the Document Object Model, JavaScript performance, CSS layouts, and so on. For example, writing a maze solving algorithm and merging two sorted lists of numbers. Front End Engineers like to rant about how the current hiring process is broken because technical interviews can include skills not related to front-end development. My recent job search has led me on a journey to improve my coding interview skills. Interviewing is a skill that you can get better at by studying, preparing, and practicing for it. I used to think that being able to think, code, and communicate simultaneously was an impossible feat, until I realized that most people are just not good at coding interviews when they first start out. What’s worse is that as an interviewee, you’re encouraged to communicate your thought process out loud to the interviewer. It’s stressful to have to produce (working) code in an interview, while someone scrutinizes every keystroke that you make. Naturally, I have forgotten quite a bit about these algorithms and data structures, which I learned mostly during my freshmen and sophomore years of college. Many of the algorithmic concepts tested in coding interviews are not what I usually use at work, where I am a Front End Engineer (web). Experienced candidates can also expect System Design questions, but that is out of the scope of this post. In this post, I’ll be sharing the insights and tips I gained along the way.

#THINKING ROCK ANDROID HOW TO#

Hence I spent the last three months figuring out how to improve my coding interview skills and eventually received offers from big tech companies like Google, Facebook, Airbnb, Lyft, Dropbox and more. So at that point, I decided to share what I'd learned in this article.Īnd I've just updated it for 2022 so it'll be super useful and relevant if you're job hunting now.ĭespite scoring decent grades in both my CS101 Algorithm class and my Data Structures class in university, I shudder at the thought of going through a coding interview that focuses on algorithms. I've moved back to paper capture for the moment.Īny thoughts, ideas, alternative suggestions? I'm on a W7 machine and would indeed like to sync with a Droid.Back in 2017, I went through some coding interviews and got offers from several large tech companies. But I have no way of getting my questions answered and figuring out whether I ought to spend money.

#THINKING ROCK ANDROID ANDROID#

I know they are still releasing the one recent news item is that there's an Android version (that will only work with the paid desktop). I also notice that there's really not much activity on the wiki, and much of their website refers to dates that are at least a year old. But now I am wondering if I picked an alternative that's dying.

#THINKING ROCK ANDROID UPGRADE#

there seems to be no other way to get to themĭepending on the answers to these questions I might have been quite willing to upgrade to the paid version.

their "all users" contact us email doesn't work.

They've suspended new wiki members "because of spam".

Naturally the process of getting started resulted in some questions, which is when I discovered: After doing some research, I downloaded the free version of Thinking Rock.

#Thinking rock android

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unadulteratedfandomtrash · 2 years

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Sam Wilson x Reader ~ Safe and Sound [Pt.1]

A/N: Here’s the first part to a fic that’s been sitting as a work in progress for the longest time. I am still working on finishing the Rest Assured series, but I just needed time to figure out all the issues I’ve been running into with it. Hopefully this three-part series will suffice for the time being!

[Marvel Masterlist]

Word Count: 2231

Words cannot describe the sharp, gut-wrenching pain burning at (Y/n)’s side as she inhales sharply. The mission was supposed to be quick and easy. She and Clint were supposed to grab a hard drive from an abandoned steel factory before HYDRA could get their hands on the stolen intel; if the information were to fall into the wrong hands, many innocent lives would be in danger. Unfortunately, HYDRA was the least of their worries.

Though the opposing parties did confront one another, the thief who stole the hard drive had rigged explosives throughout the building. When both HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents entered the vicinity, several meticulously placed motion-sensors were triggered, setting off a massive explosion that turned the factory into a mountain of debris.

Now, as the rubble begins to settle, (Y/n) tries her best to remain calm. Large chunks of concrete and steel beams box the agent in, leaving her to assume that she is either buried at ground-level, or deep within a pit created by the explosion.

“Happy thoughts, (Y/n). Happy thoughts,” she thinks to herself in a mantra. Her throat is dry and hoarse thanks to the dense cloud of dust wafting in the air. The unpleasant rumbling of shifting debris startles her already-anxious mind, and the pain radiating from her side does little to help calm her nerves. Taking a look at the damage would only make her panicking worse, but (Y/n) knows that she must somehow assess the wound—in complete darkness—and take measures to ensure her survival.

“H-Hey, can an-...c-py?” Despite the whiplash she experienced after falling two stories while building is simultaneously being blown apart, (Y/n) can make out the fragments of words from the message; her mind is fuzzy, making it hard for her to concentrate, but the voice seems to belong to Bruce. “G-Guy-ys?”

“Y-Yeah, I copy.” Clint’s voice rasps out through the pregnant silence. After a report of his status to whoever is listening on the communications links, which is interrupted by many coughs, he turns to inspect his surroundings. Clint flicks on his flashlight to wave around the area. There is a small opening large enough for him to possibly squeeze through to escape, which he should do soon; the heavy concentration of dust and ash is not good for his lungs. Unfortunately, the shattered bulb dies before the l can thoroughly assess his surroundings, but during the brief moment the device actually functioned properly, he spotted a dim shine reflecting off of the red highlights on (Y/n)’s gauntlet beneath the rubble. “Ah, shi-...I think (Y/n)’s hurt.”

Before he can speak once more, the line falls dead-silent. The archer pulls his earpiece out to inspect it and finds a small stream of smoke slipping through some large cracks; he casts the device aside into a random space behind him, since there is no hope in contacting the team with it anymore.

Turning onto his side, Clint groans in pain as he rolls over sharp rocks and shards of metal. The temptation to simply lay on the ground to prevent his sprained ankle and broken ribs from hurting any more is strong, but after the quick glimpse of (Y/n), he knows she needs more help.

“Hey, can you move, kid?”

“N-No,” (Y/n) grunts. “I can’t feel my legs, and my right arm and back really hurt.”

Left with no other options, Clint crawls over to his teammate, ignoring the wave of nausea that comes crashing down on him as he pulls out a flashlight from her utility belt to scan over her body. Through the thick clouds of dust and ash lingering in the air, he can barely make out the shape of (Y/n)’s torso, but after a few seconds of waving his hand around, the particles settle.

“Oh boy…that’s not good.”

Chunks metal cover the entirety of the young woman’s lower-half and right-side, and several concrete slabs, along with an unknown number of debris above it all, are on top of the jagged metal, but (Y/n) being pinned down is the least of Clint’s worries. What worries him the most is the steadily-growing pool of blood inching out from beneath her.

“What do you mean by ‘not good,’ Clint?”

“Uhhh,” glancing over at his teammate, the archer decides to leave out any descriptions of her condition to avoid creating a panic. He racks his brain for a proper way to alert the rest of the Avengers without scaring them or (Y/n). “We’re going to need to call for a med evac immediately. Lemme use your earpiece.”

“That doesn’t tell me wha-”

The device is removed from (Y/n)’s ear before she can get a proper response from her teammate. She simply lays in silence as the man taps at her earpiece impatiently, shouting for Bruce as if the volume of his voice would amplify its effectiveness.

Miraculously, Clint manages to get a stable connection after a few minutes and wastes no time in relaying the situation to the team. (Y/n) struggles to pay attention, hoping she can listen for any clues regarding her condition, but the adrenaline rush was waning.

In the midst of a discussion with Bruce, a loud burst of static cuts the line and soon the scientist’s voice is replaced by a stern, yet anxious, tone of voice that can only belong to one very protective and worried boyfriend, leaving Clint even more apprehensive than before. Now he must come up with an even better way to update (Y/n)’s boyfriend without sending him into a nervous frenzy; choppy audio or not, he can clearly hear the anxiousness in the man’s voice.

“Heeeeyyyy, Sam,” he coughs out. “How are you? Everything okay? You sound a bit winded there.”

“I was circling from above when the bombs detonated. Only got a few cuts from flying debris, nothing serious. Now, where’s (Y/n)? She was partnered with you for this mission.”

Upon hearing Clint mention Sam’s name, (Y/n) whips her head around to face the archer. Her worried expression speaks a thousand words and Clint is quick to assure her that her flying boyfriend escaped with only superficial scrapes. This allows her to release a deep breath she did not realize she was holding in, but the pressure leaves her shuddering in pain, which does not go unnoticed by Clint, who curses under his breath.

“She’s here with me, but we’re gonna need to get her out of here as soon as possible.”

“Why?? What’s her condition?”

“Not good,” Clint mutters. He glances back down, only to spiral into a panic when he realizes (Y/n) has closed her eyes. Sam continues to bombard Clint’s ears with endless questions, but they are pushed to the back of the archer’s mind. All his attention is focused on the unconscious woman laying before him.

A quick inspection tells Clint that (Y/n) is still alive, but her shallow breaths, coupled with the pool of blood refusing to cease as it continues to expand its reach, does nothing to calm his racing heart.

While many would caution against leaving an unconscious, bleeding individual alone in situations such as this, Clint finds himself debating it. He is lacking the medical expertise and supplies to provide any form of aid to his teammate, and the longer he remains by her side, the smaller her chances are of surviving. If he were to leave, Clint will be able to search for backup. As much as it pains him to abandon (Y/n), he must take a gamble and pray that she will still be breathing by the time help arrives.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to (Y/n)’s dusty forehead, Clint pulls himself up to a crouching position with the help of a nearby concrete slab. Without the flashlight shining through the darkness, there is no way anyone will be able to see (Y/n), so the archer places the light beside her body. “I’m going to bring help, I promise. Just hang in there for me. For Sam.”

Hands reach out blindly, guiding Clint through the rubble as he searches for crevices large enough to crawl into. No matter how dangerous or time-consuming the journey may be, the archer is determined to push forward. He must. (Y/n)’s life depends on his success.

“Alright, team. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Steve throws down a holographic projector detailing the layout of the building that once stood before them. The blueprint was promptly pulled up once the team received Clint’s message, and with the help of Maria Hill, a rescue plan was organized. “As soon as Rhodey and Tony’s Iron Legion arrive, they’re going to start excavating the rubble. Bruce is already on the phone with Helen Cho, so she’s also flying down here right now to help (Y/n) and Clint as soon as we reach them. Our job will be trying to locate our teammates. The devices Tony gave us should help us locate any heat signatures, so we need to do what we can to help out without putting ourselves in harm’s way.”

Bruce was tasked with calling Helen Cho to relay the information, urging her to drop her current project to fly over to the mission site, Tony calls in Rhodey and his Iron Legion to excavate through the debris.

To avoid any further injuries or unprecedented attacks, the captain pairs up all the heroes, trying his best to consider each respective person’s talents and skills as to avoid ill-equipped pairs. Once everyone is aware of their partner, they fan out and begin their search.

“Don’t think I forgot about you, Sam. You’re with me.”

“Steve-”

“I’m not asking you a question. Now let’s go.”

In all reality, despite having many possible partners for Sam, Steve is too worried about him. With (Y/n) injured and her exact location—under all the broken concrete and metal—unknown, there is no telling the lengths, and risks, Sam will take in order to reach her. Steve hopes that by pairing himself up with the former airman, he can keep an eye on his friend while also providing him both mental and tactical support, though he hopes against the latter.

The gravel seems to crunch so loudly as if it is next to Natasha’s ears as she cautiously scans her surroundings. Every little sound has her on edge. Her mind is focused on searching for possible entry points, but she finds herself slipping into old memories.

Just last night, before she left the common room to begin her mission preparations, the red-haired assassin was seated on the sofa with (Y/n), gossiping about the new S.HI.E.L.D. trainees and many of the male trainees’ obvious infatuation with Maria Hill. They walked down the halls until their adjacent rooms came into view, and (Y/n) made an offhand comment about stealing Pym particles from Scott’s suit to squeeze into the small crevice beneath the door to cuddle with Natasha if Sam hogs the blankets in the middle of the night. It made both women giggle like school children at the thought, and while Natasha wishes she could hang onto that moment, the sound of Scott repeating her name brings her back to the present.

“Natasha! Are you okay? I’ve been calling your name for a while now.”

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about something.”

“Well, you won’t have to think about much anymore,” Scott comments while pointing down to a small gap between two slabs of concrete with a smirk. “That should definitely be good enough for one of Tony’s suits to start working a hole into.”

Natasha starts to agree with the man when she comes to a realization. The memories of the previous night’s conversation suddenly become very important and she silently expresses her gratitude to whatever higher power that triggered the evocation.

“What if we don’t have to wait for Tony?” “Wait, what? I don’t follow…”

“Steve,” Natasha all but shouts into the communication links. “I have an idea. Instead of waiting for Tony to arrive, what if we just have Scott shrink himself and go in through the small openings in the rubble? He’d be small enough that he won’t bump into anything and cause more collapses.”

Scott interrupts Steve’s objections by agreeing with his red-haired partner. The former con man has placed himself in dangerous situations before, so this instance should be no different. In fact, he is much more determined to participate knowing that he can aid in his two teammates’ rescue.

“Put me in, Cap. I know I can do this. Trust me.” It’s not that I don’t trust you, Scott,” Steve sighs. “I don’t trust the situation. We don’t know where Clint and (Y/n) are and if something were to happen while you’re blindly searching inside, then we’d have a new total of three people in need of extraction. We just don’t know enough to send you in there.”

As if on cue, there is a shout echoing from within the debris. Natasha and Scott turn towards the sound to see an arm flailing from between the gap Scott had pointed out a few minutes prior; their eyes widen in shock at the pure coincidence.

[Part 2]

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for the next part!

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curiosity-killed · 3 years

Text

Lang Qianqiu deserves more love goddammit: a post, unfortunately

This brought to you by the wonderful @veliseraptor & @/yuer on Twitter but also mostly out of spite and the fact that it’s preventing me from writing a very dumb poke-the-bear post abt the entire weird social media culture around The Minors

As always ✨SPOILERS!! SPOILERS EVERYWHERE✨

So first off: when I hit the scene where lqq confronts xl and screams “I will never be like you” I sat up in bed, did a little shimmy of delight, and hissed “fuck yes” at like 2 AM so. Now you have a preview of wtf this train wreck will be

1 ) lqq is a good character

We don’t get a ton of time with lqq because tgcf is 87 side characters running across stage with The Most Interesting Concept constantly one-upping each other before vanishing. But what we do get is, I think, enough to make a pretty compelling story: Lang Qianqiu is a kind and generous prince who is also the sole survivor of the bloody massacre of his entire family, committed by the people dearest to him (both in his belief that Gusohi Fangxin did it and in the reality of An Le’s involvement), who goes on to peacefully lead his fractious nation into a peaceful reign before he ascends as a powerful enough (aka beloved and worshipped enough) god to be ranked among the top heavenly generals. That’s like. Pretty fucking classic protagonist vibes right there.

And, as usual with mxtx’s characters, we get a lot more than this lovely little backstory. In his interactions in canon, lqq is capable of great grief and anger; he is willing to sacrifice himself if it means avenging his murdered family; and he simultaneously holds both great hatred and great respect for his old teacher. And, of course, he winds up raising and taking care of his enemy’s son which shows a remarkable depth of compassion and emotional messiness that I find terribly compelling. He struggles with a simplistic view of justice that is supported by lies told to “protect” him and that is uprooted by the truth and forces him to try to make sense of the world without the guardrails that others installed around him (looking at you mister fangxin sir).

Also I’m stealing my own tweets bc I’m Right but:

*pulls up single barstool to lqq is a good character table* I think it’s interesting & Says Things abt the continued relationship btwn lqq & xl that lqq *didn’t* recognize xl, implying that he left fangxin’s mask in place even when he went to kill him

Like here is the man who killed his family & best friend, who left him abandoned in bloodshed on his 17th bday—& here is also the man who saved his life, who taught him, who lqq looked up to & wanted to be like

Even when lqq *does* recognize xl, he still has so much respect for him paired with that hatred that it’s honestly rlly tragic? Like man. There’s so much grief in lqq’s repeated demands for a duel & insisting it’s fine if xl kills him as long as he doesn’t hold back

*pats lqq pompom* this bb is so sad. And so much more like his teacher than either of them seem to realize or necessarily want

Despite being a pretty minor character, lqq gets a lot of complexity and nuance! Look at this child trying to be grown up while desperately turning to his old master for guidance and “the truth”! Look at him! Be sad!!

2 ) lqq is an excellent parallel to xl

Okay stealing my own tweet again don’t look at me I yell the same shit everywhere

Xl didn’t want lqq to become like him (self-sacrificing, vengeful, alone) but lqq not only became alone, chasing vengeance, & willing to sacrifice himself for revenge—he also became kind, open-minded, & remorseful!! & he still clearly respects xl @ novel end 🙃🙃

We all know hc’s “they’re not very alike at all” and yeah sure baby go support your man but narratively, there’s a lot of importance given to cycles, parallels, and foils in mxtx’s writing and most explicitly (compared to mdzs, haven’t read svss) in tgcf. For example, *gestures at beefleaf, gestures at Xianle Trio vs Wuyogn Crew, gestures at Xie Lian & Jun Wu’s whole uh. Deal.* And while I’d argue xl and lqq are part of a triumvirate rather than a pair, we’re not including mister three-face in this conversation so just looking at xl and lqq:

Both adored and sheltered crown princes

Both taught by a guoshi who was seeking to prevent the repetition of their own tragedies and in their efforts, lied/omitted information and failed to protect their charge from tragedy

Both were betrayed* by their closest friends

Both are the last living members of their respective royal families

Both caught the interest of supernatural beings from a young age

Etc etc I’m getting v bored and distracted writing this so moving on

Most importantly to me, we have their betrayal by a very close and adored mentor and how they react. The confrontation I mention at the start of this shitshow is really imo one of the most important scenes in the novel because it a) illustrates the differences in xl and Jun Wu and b) sort of gives you a preview of how xl ultimately wins

So a) Jun Wu and Xie Lian both take a talented, marked-for ascension young prince under their wing. Jun Wu sees himself in the boy and obsesses over shaping him into Jun Wu’s own image in the belief that this will make him the perfect heir. Jun Wu pushes his chosen heir into situations where Xie Lian is repeatedly harmed in an effort to show that the common people are fickle and cruel and don’t deserve his compassion and care.

Meanwhile, Xie Lian is reluctantly roped into mentoring his prince due to his inability to stand aside when he feels he could do something to prevent hurt or injustice befalling another (simultaneously his great strength and great weakness! God I love him). Xie Lian tries to teach his student to believe in and care for the common people and not to sacrifice himself (see: flashback convo re:taking the force of the sword strike into his own body).

When Xie Lian refuses to bend in the shape Jun Wu demands, Jun Wu bashes his head into the wall. When Lang Qianqiu cries “I will never be like you!”, Xie Lian laughs and says “Good!”.

B) this of course feeds directly into foreshadowing! Like Lang Qianqiu’s bold words, xl ultimately refuses to become like his mentor and remains defiant even when it would stop him from being hurt. Xl beats lqq and says so what if I tricked you, so what if I lied, I still won. Naturally, xl beats Jun Wu not through standard swordplay but by using a trick he learned while forced to busk and wander the earth alone and unlucky for centuries.

…okay so I have fully forgotten what I was actually saying here! Anyway!

Like Xie Lian, Lang Qianqiu spends a time consumed with the need for vengeance, hunting his enemy and rejecting the heavens. And like Xie Lian, he winds up caring for his enemy’s “son” and trying to both comfort him and maintain what’s left of Qi Rong’s life force despite having previously been hellbent on destroying him—bc he sees the impact it has on another person. In the end, he even gives a gift to Xie Lian—his mentor, his role model, and the one who killed his father—that was once given to him as a symbol of unexpected kindness. Sound familiar?

But, importantly, and contradictory to what I have been yelling abt but whatever it’s 12:30 am, Lang Qianqiu is not a direct mirror of Xie Lian but a closing of a vital loop in the story. Lqq is very similar to xl (I will die on this hill!! Only I won’t bc I’m stronger than y’all and will keep swinging these pots and pans) but bc xl tries to do better and keep lqq from suffering the way xl has, lqq is able to have a gentler and more optimistic path forward. He’s proof that even a small act of kindness or even kindness to only one person still matters and has a ripple effect that can’t be seen when you’re in the middle of it—a thread started with xl giving the coral pearl to Lang Ying and closed with Lang Qianqiu returning the pearl to Xie Lian.

So I have no idea if any of this is coherent or compelling but I meant to be asleep two hours ago and the points are:

A) Lang Qianqiu is good actually

B) parallels!!!

C) look ive already started another wip about Lang Qianqiu and Xie Lian and I didn’t want this but no one else wrote it so now I have to so pls just accept this as a warning

*sort of air quotes around this for Xie Lian bc frankly Mu Qing was right & Xie Lian kicked feng xin out BUT on the other hand, it was experienced as a betrayal and we also again have all of Jun Wu’s shit so it evens out

#should I wait and proofread and edit this tomorrow? yes.#am I doing that? no <3 #idk what to tag this as #uhhh #tgcf spoilers #lang qianqiu #I don’t think this can reasonably be called meta #since I am unsure if it is even readable #tgcf #long post

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restlessfandoming · 3 years

Text

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 2) (chilumi fic)

[part 1]

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link]

* * *

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 2)

“This is a surprise,” Childe said, “Madame President.”

Lumine felt like she was sweating out an entire waterfall and experiencing winter in Snezhnaya simultaneously. “Ch-Childe,” she greeted, trying to remain calm. “What are you doing here?”

The corner of his mouth was tweaked upwards in the faintest of smirks. “I should be asking you that. Me? This is somewhere I’m expected to be. You?” His smirk grew a little bigger. “Not so much.”

“I—” She took a breath in. “I am seeing what kind of places delinquents like you congregate. Seems like I was right,” she fibbed. She put on her President persona; hopefully that was enough to convince him.

He tilted his head, blue eyes glimmering in amusement. “Tsk, tsk. I thought our student council president would be better at lying.” He eyed the fighter’s tape still on her hands.

She quickly put her hands behind her back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Research is research.”

There was silence as he just stared at her, his eyes calculating—something, she didn’t know what.

“Well, I think I’ve seen enough. Looks like I’ll just have to report you to the school tomorrow,” she said quickly, turning to scurry away.

“Outlander.”

Lumine froze.

“Outlander,” Childe repeated. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

She heard his footsteps coming up behind her; she didn’t look at him as he circled her, observing her.

“Same stature, same build,” he remarked. “Definitely explains the mask.”

He knows. He knows. Lumine felt her soul deflate out of her.

Knowing Childe, this news would be all over the school within a matter of hours. Her spotless record was ruined. Her future was ruined.

She bit the side of her cheek. Fine; no more pretending. “Yes, I’m The Outlander,” Lumine said lowly. She cast a glare at him. “What about it?”

Childe raised his brows, surprised at her admission. “What happened to, ‘Fighting isn’t fun.’?”

“It isn’t,” she sneered. “I do it because I have to.”

His eyes squinted in confusion. “Because you have to?”

“The money.” Her fists were clenched. “I need the money.”

He blinked, staring at her in silence once more.

Probably thinking of some way to torture me. What’s he going to do? Extort me for money? Blackmail me?

It doesn’t matter. My life is over as of now. All because of Childe.

She readjusted her backpack, walking out the door. “Do what you want; I’m going home.”

He didn’t stop her.

When the door shut behind her, Lumine ran as fast as she could, not even bothering to wait for the bus; she ran all the way home, trying her best to hold back her tears.

Arriving home, she went straight to her room, ignoring Aether’s worried questioning, and laid face down on her bed. Her heart felt like it was going to burst.

The prospect that her future was going down the drain loomed over her shoulder like a thick, black cloud. On the other hand, her head felt like it was on fire: all the frustration and anger—at Childe for being there and finding her, and at herself for being so careless—bubbling over.

She let out a quiet scream of frustration into her pillow, then sat up. She slipped off her hand wraps, taking a deep breath.

No. She wasn’t going to let someone like Childe ruin everything she had worked for.

She grabbed an energy drink from her bag, sat down at her desk, and continued studying through the night.

Now isn’t the time to give up.

* * *

It had been three days. Three days since Lumine had run into Childe at the arena. And yet, not a single person came to her asking questions, expelling her, arresting her.

Did...did Childe really not tell anyone? Lumine wondered as she walked through the hallways. She had barely seen him at school these past few days—only brief glimpses of him in the crowded halls. He hadn’t even been stirring up trouble like he usually did.

Maybe he’s still planning to do something with the information, Lumine reasoned. Or...maybe...he feels sympathy.

Whatever it was, Lumine was glad nothing had happened. It seemed like her life was carrying on like normal. Maybe it had just been some crazy nightmare she dreamed up.

“Lumine!” a cheerful voice called.

She turned, finding her friend, Xiangling skipping towards her, along with her other friend, Mona.

“Xiangling. Mona,” she greeted happily.

“What’s wrong, Lumi?” Xiangling asked. “Your face was all scrunched up.”

The blonde offered a small smile. “Really? I guess I was just thinking about stuff.”

“Perhaps your duties as President are too strenuous,” Mona said. “I always find it relaxing to destress in a bath of honey and rose petals.”

Xiangling’s eyes glittered. “Sounds yummy…” She shook her head. “Ah, forget that! We’re here to ask you to help us!”

“Some inconsiderate brutes left their gym equipment in the stairwell, blocking the entrance to our club rooms,” Mona explained.

Lumine sighed. “Let me take a look.”

The three travelled across the courtyard, coming to a stop outside the club activities building where many clubs had their meeting rooms, including Xiangling’s cooking club and Mona’s astrology club.

Blocking the stairwell was, indeed, a pile of heavy-looking punching bags.

“Left by the boxing club, no doubt,” Lumine muttered. She turned to her friends. “No worries, I’ll get these out of your way, then have a talk with the boxing club about this.”

“But they look really heavy…,” Xiangling said.

Mona raised her brows. “Will you be able to lift those on your own?”

No different than lifting weights. Considering her fight training, the bags would be extremely easy for Lumine to move. However, of course, to everyone who didn’t know her intense training, she was of a small stature, the punching bags very obviously bigger than her.

But it was her friends who needed help, and they wouldn’t be overly suspicious of her.

“It’s fine,” Lumine reassured. “It’s just like...physics, right?” Judo, more like. “I just have to utilize my center of gravity versus its weight.”

She grabbed the chain at the top of the bag, positioning it so it sat on her shoulder. Then, she swung her leg back, kicking the bottom while simultaneously pulling it, sending it flying over her shoulder, and out of the way. Just like a judo flip. She repeated it for the other bags until the staircase was cleared.

“Wooow,” Xiangling sighed in awe. “You’re amazing, Lumi!”

“Very much so,” Mona agreed.

Before Lumine could say it was no big deal, Xiangling leaned in a bit.

“Say, isn’t that Childe, looking this way?” the cook whispered.

The three glanced in the direction she was looking, and sure enough, the tall ginger was standing nearby, his blue eyes fixed on Lumine.

Immediately, Lumine felt her fists clench. “Need something?” she gritted out.

He blinked at her, then let out an amused chuckle, turning and walking away. Lumine glared daggers into his back until he was out of sight.

“He’s so cool,” Xiangling said dreamily. “And so handsome.”

Lumine rolled her eyes. Xiangling fawned over anyone remotely good-looking like they were food. She remembered a time when the cook looked at her like she was the best roast pig on the market.

“He may have the looks,” Mona conceded, “but unfortunately, he doesn’t seem very interested in girls. He’s rejected every single confession he’s ever gotten—and that’s a lot.” The pigtailed witch put her hands on her hips. “Not very good karma in the stars for him, if you ask me.”

Oh. Lumine almost laughed. Maybe he just didn’t tell anyone because he’s not interested?

Yes, that must be it. He was so uninterested, it would serve him no purpose to meddle in her life.

Hopefully that means he stops causing me trouble wherever he goes.

* * *

Childe.

Childe was in her manager’s office.

Before any fight, Lumine had to report to the overseer of the arena, a man named Kaeya Alberich; he was in charge of paying her, and was the only person in the arena who knew her true identity. He had let her continue fighting because she was good at it—and he was in the business of putting on a good show.

And now, Kaeya was talking to Childe.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Lumine asked.

Next to Kaeya, Childe gave her a smile like nothing was wrong.

“Lumine! Perfect timing,” Kaeya said. “We have a proposition for you.”

“We?”

“Yes, me and Tartaglia here were discussing your future in this field,” Kaeya explained.

Lumine’s face scrunched in confusion. “Tartaglia?” she echoed, looking at Childe, who innocently nodded.

“Of course! Where are my manners? Lumine, this is Tartaglia; he’s a very prominent figure in our...community.” The older gentleman smiled. “And Tartaglia says he already knows who you are?”

“We’re friends,” Childe supplied.

“Friends?” Kaeya chuckled. “Lumine, you should have told me you knew Tartaglia.”

“I don’t,” Lumine interjected.

“We have a very odd way of joking,” the ginger said, winking at Lumine.

Kaeya shrugged. “Anyhow, let’s get down to business.” He looked at Lumine. “How do you feel about Tartaglia being your new coach?”

Lumine choked on her spit. My...coach?!

“What...what does that mean?” she managed to get out.

“Well, we both agreed that you seem like… a big fish in a small pond nowadays,” Alberich explained.

“As your coach,” Childe said. “I can get you into different fighting arenas with my connections. More room for you to grow. And of course, more money.”

“No,” Lumine said, almost instantaneously. Both men made a face. She continued, narrowing her eyes at Childe, “I don’t need your help.” Childe crossed his arms.

Kaeya let out a nervous laugh. “Now, now, Lumine, this could be really good for you—”

“I’ll see you after the match for payment.” With that, Lumine rapidly left the room.

Who the hell did Childe think he was? Barging into her life like this?

She didn’t take handouts. If she wanted something, she’d get it, on her own. After her father left her family heartbroken and penniless, she learned that the hard way: she couldn’t rely on anyone else.

During her match that night, she saw Childe sitting in one of the front rows, his eyes never leaving her.

Damned creep, she thought as her fist slammed into her opponent, effectively winning the match. The crowd’s cheers swelled. See? I’m perfectly fine on my own.

* * *

“U-Uhm, Madame President?” Bennett called nervously.

Lumine looked up from her laptop as she was typing in preparation for the student council meeting later. “Yes, Bennett?”

“I, uhm, may have misplaced some of my reports for this week,” he admitted.

Aether offered a smile. “That’s okay, Bennet,” Aether reassured. “We’ll go look for them.”

Lumine sighed and shook her head. “We have to turn them in tonight.” Knowing Bennett’s luck, the reports were probably at the bottom of the ocean somehow. “I’ll just rewrite them all later.”

Her twin looked at her, concerned. “Lumine, that’s a lot of work. Let me write them.”

Bennett tried to offer to rewrite them as well, but Lumine held her hand up. “I’m the President, it’s nothing to me. You two just worry about your other council duties, okay?”

Bennett and Aether exchanged defeated looks—their President was stubborn, and once she had her mind set on something, there was no way of convincing her otherwise.

Later, as the sun cast its sunset oranges through the windows of the empty school, Lumine still remained, hard at work typing away Bennett’s missing reports.

Her head ached, but she still had a mountain of homework and student council paperwork to finish, not to mention preparing for work tonight. She let out a fit of coughs, before forcing herself to return to her work.

“So I figure you’re some type of masochist,” Childe’s voice rang from the doorway.

Lumine sighed, not having enough energy to be angry. “Do you need something?” she asked.

“You know, you’ve practically worked yourself to death these past few days,” he said. “While I admire your resilience, it’s not healthy.”

She stood, ready to throw him out of the room so she could go back to working in peace, but her head started swimming, the room becoming blurry around her, and she stumbled. Oh no—

Before she fell back, however, Childe was behind her, catching her.

Within a second of his hands on her, she righted herself, shoving him away. “I don’t need your help,” she seethed.

His expression was unreadable, his mouth in a tight line. “I see,” he said, robotically, before walking out of the room.

Breathing heavily, she sat back in her chair, hand on her burning forehead. Shit…

* * *

Just make it through the match. Just make it through the match. Lumine kept chanting to herself.

She was definitely coming down with something, her whole body rolling with heat, but she couldn’t afford to let it affect her—not when she had so many things that needed to get done.

She wished Aether was with her, he would’ve made her feel better. But he was called in for work tonight at the grocery store, so she walked through the run-down streets alone.

She was in a more dangerous part of town, but she and Aether had figured out certain routes to walk where they didn’t run into anyone else.

Tonight, however, Lumine noticed a lone man coming towards her. She clenched her fist, ready to strike if needed. She got closer and closer to him, her muscles tensing with each step.

She passed him, and nearly let out a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, he grabbed her wrist from behind, twisting her arm against her back.

Lumine cried out in shock, weakly trying to break out of his grasp. On any other night she could have easily taken him. Damn this sickness—!

She couldn’t stop him as his other hand inched closer to her jacket. She closed her eyes.

WHAM!

Lumine felt her arm get released, and she opened her eyes, turning around.

The man who attacked her was on the ground, knocked out, and Childe stood over him, shaking out his hand after his powerful punch.

“Childe?” she breathed out. Feeling lightheaded again, she found herself reaching out for him, unable to speak.

Again, he caught her, but this time she didn’t force him away.

His hand was on her forehead, his other hand wrapped around her waist to support her. “You’re burning up,” he said.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Childe.”

He softly chuckled. “It’s okay. Just rest now,” he murmured back.

Nodding against his hand, she let herself relax, for the first time in forever. All her exhaustion came flooding in, and she quickly passed out in Childe’s arms.

* * *

[part 3]

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #genshin tartaglia #childe #lumine #tartaglia #childe x lumine #lumine x childe #chilumi #lumichilde #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #me

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damienthepious · 2 years

Note

Elle. Elle I want you to talk about that bit in teeth around my organs where Damien shows up late. I think I got the title wrong but listen

[Pick a short passage from any fanfic I’ve written (OR SPECIFICALLY Need Your Teeth Etc) and send it to me, and I’ll give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet!]

YES OKAY FANTASTIC. WHEEEE~

this got long, as usual.

["Oh thank the Saints you didn't leave. Oh," he pauses, breaking into another gasping sort of sigh, fluttering with uncomfortable, uncertain laughter. "Oh I thought I- I thought I would be too late. I-"]

These morons have exactly zero contingencies for missing their duels. They are MUCH less responsible about this whole thing than the HB3 versions are, ironically, and Damien experienced three simultaneous panic attacks on the run over here, thinking that Arum would LEAVE would HATE HIM would THINK HE'D BETRAYED HIM- and this Damien is rather acutely aware of his own... dilemma. Currently.

["Honeysuckle," Arum says, stepping closer, his remaining fury vanishing into something more like fear. "What- are you hurt?"]

lizard instantly forgets to be irritated when he thinks something might actually be wrong with Damien. absolutely gone. Also slips to honeysuckle so instantly. also, this fucking DUMMY lies even in his own HEAD. "something more like fear" my entire ass. it's just fear. you're just afraid. you're TERRIFIED, Arum.

["What?" Damien lifts his head, brow furrowing, and then he laughs again. "Oh, Saints, no, I am- I'm sorry, no."]

Damien, not even considering himself, utterly thrown off by Arum leaping to that assumption. Which is, i should mention, the SAME assumption that Arum leaps to in the following chapter. Gee, It's Almost Like Lord Lizard Cares About Him. And Damien apologizes, because he's compulsively polite, and also because now he's realizing that Arum worried.

["Don't- apologize for not being injured, takatakataka," Arum grumbles, frowning. "What happened?"]

Which Arum immediately tries to backpedal. A little. Arum doesn't like being thanked, and i don't think he particularly likes being apologized to, either, at least not unprompted.

["Nothing-" he bursts into another gasping sort of laugh, his expression tight and uncomfortable in a vaguely self-deprecating way. "Nothing exciting, I'm afraid, it was only- the Queen summoned all the knights in the Citadel for an unexpected meeting, and it- ran much longer than I hoped, and I couldn't- I could not find a way to extricate myself, and- and I knew I was leaving you to wait here, unknowing, alone, and I- well, as soon as I was released from my duty, I came with all speed and I-"]

Damien probably feels awkward talking about his more mundane knightly duties with Arum. He also feels guilty about leaving Arum hanging. He's having a stressful night, so far.

[He pauses, his expression lifting oddly, a sheepish little smile as Arum blinks at him, trying to decide exactly what to feel-]

But he feels a little better, very quickly, when he and Arum are in the same space again. and poor Arum doesn't have the first clue what to do or what to feel when Damien looks at him like that.

["I was... I was afraid you would have already given up on me," Damien says quietly. "That you would have given up on the duel, assuming... well, any old wretched thing about me, I suppose.]

An exceptional amount of Damien's dialogue in this fic is layered. He does a lot of saying two things at once, and fortunately/unfortunately, Arum is fucking STUBBORN and usually refuses to notice anything below the surface. "I was afraid you would have already given up on me." That's a weird way to say that, Damien. Very... emotionally loaded. 👀

[I was afraid of missing you entirely, and I didn't know what I would do if I had, except- to wait and hope you would return to seek me, eventually." He pauses, face flushing a little darker for a moment as Arum notes with some bafflement that Damien's instincts on that front mirror his own so well.]

They're very similar in some very stupid ways. Mostly to do with drama and bisexuality. "Oh yes, we haven't discussed ways to reach each other in case of emergencies, but if any were to come up, i would just WANDER THE JUNGLE where we usually meet and HELPLESSLY HOPE HE FINDS ME." idiots.

[Damien shakes his head, lips curling in a delicate frown. "I came as quickly as I possibly could, but- I am sorry, Arum. Truly, I am."]

Damien is so fucking earnest. love him. h

[Arum-

Arum should be angry. He knows he should be- furious with the little knight, for wasting his time, for-]

"should be" in the context of this whole ridiculous framework they've built around their continuing interactions. Arum is stuck in a fucking nesting doll of lies and intricate rituals and THAT framework says he should be frustrated with Damien for "wasting" his evening waiting for a duel that did not happen. however.

[He cannot hold the feeling. He is, perhaps, too exhausted on his own part, from his fury earlier in the evening. From his fear. From the way his feelings ricocheted so quickly from one to the next while he waited. He cannot hold any more anger, tonight. Mostly, he just feels-

Relieved. Exhausted. Warmer, oddly, now that Damien is here with him.]

Oops! he's finally letting himself notice at least a FRACTION of his actual feelings. oopsie daisy! oops!!! fucking finally. god.

[He shakes his head.

"I suppose... this is far superior a reason to have missed our duel than many others I fe- I could think of. Best not to find you fallen prematurely to some other, less deserving beast. Entirely unacceptable."]

MANY OTHERS I FEARED. Idiot lizard. He's cracking the door. Just an inch. He's offering just the LITTLEST bit of softness in Damien's direction. he's still framing it in their duels, because that's all he knows how to do at this point, but STILL.

[Damien laughs, a hint of bravado playing in the clear note of it. "I fear my standards are far too high for that, Lord Arum," he says warmly. "I would never fall before any other beast."]

This is a fuckign declaration and arum is so fucking stupid about it. that thing i said earlier about lots of damien's dialogue holding two meanings at once? this. this could ARGUABLY be speaking ONLY about combat, but. obviously. dissect somewhat. "I wouldn't fall for any other monster," which does not leave out Rilla, importantly. "I would fall for you. I could fall for you. I have fallen for you."

["Nor I to any other ridiculous little armor-clad buffoon," Arum mutters, glancing away.]

Arum manages to answer in kind without admitting a goddamn thing. While also being rather accurate to his future fate, lmao. Emotionally constipated, absolutely denial-buried idiot lizard monster. "I feel the same way," he says, refusing to actually think about how either of them feel.

#you got the name right don't worry. it's MY fault the name is OBNOXIOUSLY LONG #elle's fanfic meta #still need your teeth around my organs #asks #pinkpuffballdude

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nanami-says · 3 years

Text

Part III (1/2): chapters 19-25

Vs. Mahito Arc

Chapter 19 (aka why this blog exists)

J:”Yeah, we know that. But we flatter her because she looks easy.”

⇒ ”And the three of them know it as well. But they flatter you exaggeratedly anyway because they think you’ll let them do you”

Actually Junpei’s lines.

J:”I can’t believe people like that go to my school.”

Not incorrect, I just want to point out that Junpei didn’t just say “people”, the word he used is “race” (人種��, which implies he doesn’t see them as the same kind of human he is.

J:”Was it that guy who did it? There’s no way a person could do that! If he did it, he must not be human.”

⇒ “Was it that person just now? No, would such a thing be even possible for a human being? And if it was, would they really be a ‘human being’?”

Overall correct but the flow was different. Mind you, 人 can be translated both as “person” and “human being” (among others) depending on the context. Imo this captures the nuance better but YMMV!

N:”I’m here to identify the truth and uphold the law. There was a time when I thought the society had the same goals”

⇒ ”Adapting to the facts [in front of you] and managing yourself accordingly. That’s who I am. There was a time where I mistakenly believed society operated on the same basis.”

This was really hard to translate, especially since the phrase Nanami uses here is rather formal language. I actually checked the official anime subtitles for this one and they went with “I adhere to the facts and judge on that basis”, which I guess is close enough? I’d probably go with it as well if not for the fact that he doesn’t just say 律する but 己を律する (己/onore = I/me in humble language).

Seems like the exact meaning of the phrase is difficult to understand even for Japanese people - there are whole articles out there breaking down the meaning and giving examples of how to implement it in life 8D Anyway, the simplest explanation is “to control yourself”, with further nuance of “enforcing rules on yourself in order to achieve a goal”, “restricting your desires and impulses by your own will” etc.

Thanks a lot, Gege.

Btw, Ino, who respects Nanami greatly and considers him a mentor, actually uses the same phrase, word for word, in ch. 95! (事実に即し、己を律する) That’s how important it is. Also, continuity!

Y:”Let’s do it!”

N:”There’s no need to get excited”

⇒ Y:“Let’s go all out!!”

N:”No, if moderate’s enough, let’s just do it moderately”

They both used descriptors for just what kind of intensity they should approach the mission with. Imo, an important distinction because after they learn the full extent of the situation, Nanami takes back his words from this moment and agrees with Yuuji, going as far as to use the same words Yuuji did here.

N:”I wonder what others would think hearing you say that”

⇒ “I’m sure the others wouldn’t want to hear that from you [of all people]”

So not so much “don’t be rude” as “dude, you’re the weirdest of them all”. Emphasis mine.

N:”What I learned at Jujutsu High is that jujutsu sorcerers are idiots”

& “What I realized while at the office is that work is idiotic”

He actually says “shit” both times lol. If it was just the humour that suffered here, it still wouldn’t be too awful but unfortunately it’s not just that. The “sorcerers are shit” line gets recalled when Nanami’s facing death, trapped in Mahito’s domain, which makes it pretty damn important. It gets translated yet differently by the official release then, too, which further damages continuity I believe Gege intended for this.

”So I took the lesser of two evils. Nothing more, nothing less”

⇒ “If both are shit, then I just chose the one I’m more cut out for. That’s all as far as the reason for my coming back is concerned.”

I mean, if we realllllly insist on watering down everything that Nanami says (as JJK translators apparently did), then the basic meaning was conveyed but the original wording and nuance was closer to what I proposed.

N:”Prove to me that you can be useful in spite of the demon Sukuna inside of you”

⇒ “Give your best to prove that you’re useful despite carrying the bomb that Sukuna is.”

Considering how 2 pages later Nanami tells Yuuji that he’s not the one Yuuji should be proving himself to, it’d have been weird if this is actually what he’d said, wouldn’t it. But Nanami’s nothing if not reasonable, so that wasn’t the case.

Y:”I’m weak and useless. I’ve been hearing a lot of that these days”

⇒ “That I’m weak and useless... I’ve been realising that to a painful extent these days”

“I’ve been hearing it” would imply that someone was actually saying it either to Yuuji himself or to others which he was aware of. (I mean, other than Sukuna.) The original wording doesn’t really hold such connotation.

N:”If you think you’re in trouble, let me know”

Y:”Have some faith in me, will ya? Just a little.”

N:”It’s not about faith.(...)”

Y:”A child? I’d rather be underestimated”.

⇒ N:“If you decide you cannot win, please call me.”

Y:”Aren’t you underestimating me too much?”

N:”This is not about ‘underestimating’ or ‘not underestimating’.(...)

Y:”[Even] being underestimated would’ve been better over being treated like a kid.”

I guess the translators wanted to avoid saying “underestimate” 3 times in a row? Albeit that’s what the original does.

More importantly though!!

N:”I’m an adult and you’re a child. I have the obligation to look after you”

⇒ “(...) It’s my obligation to prioritise you over myself.”

Quite a different nuance, right. Not just “I have to look after you” but “your well-being [life] takes priority over my own”.

N:”Experiencing these little losses is what helps people grow into adults”

⇒ “It’s the accumulation of such small despairs that turns people into adults”

Not that wildly different but despairs (hopelessnesses) >>> losses, y/y. Also “helps” made it sound more positive when it’s both a poignant and at the same time dry statement.

Chapter 20

N:”There are techniques that aren’t affected if revealed to certain enemies”

Those two feel more like separate examples to me. I.e. that there are techniques that aren’t affected if revealed, and there are some enemies that you can afford to reveal your technique to. Could apply simultaneously but don’t necessarily have to, if that makes sense?

“There is a merit to revealing one’s hand and the rules it initiates. You can make your technique even more effective.”

⇒ “It has its merits too. The ‘binding’ of ‘revealing one’s hand’ amplifies the effectiveness of your technique.”

Wild lost “binding” appears! Like I indicated before, it’s the lack of consistency to translating terms that are consistent in the original, that has negatively affected the fans’ ability to understand the basics of jjk techniques and world-building.

[Explaining Yuuji’s divergent fist]

GJ:”But it’s a lot easier said than done for anyone else.”

⇒ “It’s not something that can be easily done on purpose”

N:”His physical strength is superhuman. The impact of his hit doesn’t have incredibly strong energy, but it’s still about 20% more than a normal sorcerer. That means his delayed hit comes from his main source of cursed energy. It must be quite annoying for those on the receiving end. Such potential. If he’s able to go out all and combine his full physical strength with a cursed technique…”

⇒ “(...) The initial impact contains little cursed energy but it still achieves 120% of an average sorcerer. And then the actual cursed energy hits with a delay. For those on the receiving end it must be more unpleasant than one could imagine. And he’s got potential for growth, too. If he becomes able to add 100% of cursed energy to a 100% body…”

Uhh, this was a tricky one because on the first read it doesn’t seem that terribly wrong but when you read the original carefully, you realise this and that got lost in translation. My version should be closer to the original meaning.

I:”We’re going to have to ask the murderer about the technique”

⇒ “That’s just something that you can’t know unless you ask the offender about their technique”

Obviously Ieiri wasn’t suggesting to literally ask the murderer.

“However there’s evidence the brain stems were modified. Their consciousness were also modified to create a state of confusion”

⇒ (...) This was probably done to create a disturbance of consciousness... a state of mental confusion”

Slightly different nuance for this one.

Y:”For me, the gravity of death is the same regardless. This isn’t right!”

First sentence is mostly correct but it should’ve been “the gravity of death of another person” (emphasis mine).

Second sentence sounds too mild for what is actually Yuuji being super mad specifically about the way those people were killed? The phrase he uses means something like "This is just in way too poor taste”, “way too vulgar” etc. I guess if you went for a less literal translation, you could say “just too disgusting”/”revolting”.

N:”This matter won’t be taken care of so easily. Let’s do it”

⇒ “Looks like ‘moderately’ won’t be enough here. Let’s go all out.”

This is the instance of Nanami retracting his words and backing Yuuji up by borrowing his own words that I mentioned earlier!

M:”Jujutsu sorcerers brand such entities as “special grade potential spirits” and fear them as much as powerful curses. The fact that they categorize them as such really shows their shallowness”

⇒ “Jujutsu sorcerers register them as “special grade potential apparitions” and remain on alert against them [on alert for their appearance]. The same applies to powerful unidentified curses. That they categorise them as ‘potential apparitions’ just shows how little they truly see.”

It’s not that sorcerers fear them per se but that they (most likely) monitor them and are on guard against them. When followed up by the “what people truly genuinely fear are natural disasters [forces of nature]” conversation, it becomes clear that what Mahito scorns sorcerers for is their short-sightedness for thinking all powerful curses must be born out of people’s imagination, ~urban legends~ etc.

[Junpei asking what Mahito was born from]

M:”Thanks to the hatred spewed between people I was born”

⇒ “I’m a curse born out of the fear and hatred people harbour towards [other] people"

or even

“I’m a curse born out of people hating and fearing people”

Again a quite different nuance. They really shouldn’t have edited “fear” out.

Chapter 21

J:’Don’t you think that whoever first said, ‘The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference’ must be rotting in hell? There’s no way hating people is better than feeling indifferent towards them.”

⇒ “(...) There’s no way that approaching others with evil intentions is better than not interacting [with them] at all”

The first sentence is mostly fine although the original doesn’t include the “is not hate” bit, it only says “the opposite of love is indifference”. The second part is quite different. After all, hating doesn’t necessarily imply there’s any action taken.

“Complicating simple things for the sake of meaning is such a Japanese thing to do”

⇒ “Japanese sure love it - complicating simple answers and gloating in it”

I didn’t like the “for the sake of meaning” bit, imo it’s over-interpreting.

J:”Indifference. That’s what humans should strive for.”

M:”Sounds more like revenge”

J:“Are you saying that I got it all mixed up?”

Junpei’s first line here is fine although interestingly enough he puts it as “a virtue humans should strive for”. Then it’s

⇒ M:“And yet you wish for revenge”

J:”Are you trying to say I’m contradicting myself?”

M:”In this world, only I understand the soul’s composition. I can even transmogrify living beings. Emotions come from the soul. It’s too simplistic to call it ‘heart’. People overthink the things they can’t see. (...)”

⇒ “In this world I’m the only one who understands the soul’s composition. After all, I change the shape of living beings by touching it. Emotions are products of the metabolism of the soul. It’s altogether too mechanical [of a process] to call it a heart. People assign too much value to things invisible to the eye.(...)”

Last one is literally “consider ‘special’ way too much”, simpler wording than what I went with but I tried to make it more legible.

The “metabolism of the soul” phrase is especially vital because Junpei throws it at Yuuji almost word for word when confronted by him at the school after his mother’s death.

More philosophy lessons from Mahito-sensei \o/

“Don’t limit yourself to just being indifferent. There’s no reason to live by such a restricting philosophy.”

⇒ “Don’t allow yourself to be shackled by the ideal called ‘indifference’. There’s no need for there to be consistency in one’s way of life.”

Mahito actually takes the “is ‘consistency’ necessary” stance a few times in the manga, including when he and Getou squabble about the relationship between the body and the soul in Shibuya. A pity about the mistranslation here.

“I support everything you represent, Junpei”

⇒ “I’ll affirm your everything, Junpei”

Imo the act of supporting and the act of affirming while similar aren’t one and the same, hence the change.

N:”Either come alone, or risk bringing Itadori with me. I chose the former, nothing more. He’s still a child, after all.”

⇒ “The risk of venturing [into the enemy’s territory] alone, or the risk of bringing Itadori-kun with me. I simply chose the former. He’s still a child, after all.”

Idk, I feel like cutting out “the risk” from the first option makes Nanami sound more callous? Like Yuuji’s a liability and going by himself is a sounder option. Whereas, it was actually him weighing two risks against each other and deciding that potentially endangering Yuuji is the one he can afford less.

[After Yuuji asks why he doesn’t know important jujutsu related stuff.]

I:”Because Gojou’s your mentor.” ⇒ “it’s because Gojou’s ...”

He actually uses a lovely adjective to describe Gojou, which can mean a plethora of things, including: irresponsible, sloppy, lazy, unreliable, careless, perfunctory etc. etc.

Ichiji? Not a member of Gojou Satoru Fanclub.

Y:”This feels like a bad plan”

⇒ “This feels so staged, I don’t like it.”

Lit. “play [perform, read] one's own work”. I think what Yuuji might’ve meant here was that the plan felt dishonest? Second sentence could also be “I don’t feel up for it.”

Chapter 22

M:”Was that some kind of cursed technique?”

N:”What do you mean by ‘some kind’? I don’t appreciate questions that are left open to interpretation”

⇒ “(...) I hate abstract questions that put the whole burden on the other person”

Lit. “that leave it to others”. Other than Nanami being more straightforward with “hate”/”dislike”, I think this was him expressing he doesn’t like people who don’t even try to think for themselves and immediately demand answers from others instead.

“It would be silly to not assume a connection(...)”

⇒ “It would be more unnatural not to assume a connection(...)”

Different wording (unnatural instead of silly), which imo affects Nanami’s characterisation.

M:”The shape of the body will always be dependent on the shape of the soul”

This sounds a bit too passive and generic? Closer to “The shape of the body gets pulled along by the shape of the soul”, which is literally what Mahito’s technique does.

I’m heavily paraphrasing but!

magazine raw scans: ”it's 6:30 PM now and I started working at 11 AM, so I'm going to finish by 7PM no matter what”

official English release:”it's 5:30 PM now and I started at 10, gotta finish by 6”

The time change is so random, I wonder if Gege simply changed it themselves for the volume release. Maybe to bring it closer to the common office job times? Typical Japanese work day at the office begins at 9AM and lasts 8h + 1h break (completely unpaid but compulsory). I guess if Nanami skipped the break then working 10AM-6PM would make it exactly 8h?

The biggest mystery of jjk.

Chapter 23

M:”Even if sorcerers can protect their bodies using cursed energy, they can’t protect their souls”

⇒ “Even if sorcerers can protect their bodies using cursed energy, they [just] aren’t used to protecting their souls”.

So it’s not that they “can’t” as in “are incapable of” and more that there’s never been the need, so they never learned how and aren’t used to doing it. As proven by Yuuji later it’s not impossible.

M:”Overtime? He restricts himself based on time! He was limiting his power until now!”

⇒ “Overtime work? A ‘biding’ based on time! He was suppressing his power by himself until now!”

Another instance where “binding” as a term makes its appearance (it even uses quotation marks) but wasn’t properly denoted by the translators.

M:”A large-scale attack, and he doesn’t care if he gets hit while doing it!”

⇒ “A large-scale attack [done] with the resolve of [potentially] getting killed along with me!”.

The phrase Mahito uses here is 相打ち, lit. “killing [hitting] each other at the same time”. Also, “doesn’t care” and “is prepared/has the resolve” are quite different, aren’t they.

Chapter 24

J:”The way a perfectionist is willing to lay everything out there is beautifully portrayed”

⇒ ”The change in emotions [leading up] to a perfectionist abandoning everything is properly portrayed here”

I’m including this because knowing Gege, it’s not just simple movie talk, and it’s actually foreshadowing Yuuji’s future fate or something 8D

I can’t decide if it’s “abandon” (also “throw out of the window”) or “sacrifice” because the word used can mean either. I’m leaving that to everyone’s interpretation.

“Like I thought, that sorcerer’s nuts!”

⇒ “He doesn’t look it but he sure does reckless things, that sorcerer”

How does "he doesn't look it but (...)" even become "like I thought (...)"? He was laughing at and enjoying the contrast between Nanami's appearance/attitude and his actions/fighting.

M:”My cursed energy is also controlled by my will”

⇒ “The spending of cursed energy too is among things I can supply by myself.”

I’m not entirely sure because it’s a tricky one, so take this one with a grain of salt. But the official release is definitely missing “spending/expenditure” and Mahito isn’t talking about using/manipulating his cursed energy in general but “the amount of cursed energy spent”.

“Mr. Irresponsible Gojou” ⇒ “Devil-may-care Gojou-san”

“Mr. Mature Nanami” ⇒ “The adult of [all] adults Nanami-san”/”the adult above all adults”

I just really enjoy Ichiji and his little epithets, I guess.

J:”Have you ever killed anyone?”

⇒ “Have you ever killed a human being/another human?”

Just putting it out there because imo there's a distinction between “anyone” and “a human being”. Especially considering how much of this arc was questioning what being a human means.

Y:”Um… I mean, the choice to kill will definitely find its way to me”

⇒ "How to put it... once I've killed someone, "killing" would become one of the possible options [to take] in my life".

Maybe the nuance was there in the official release too and I just didn't pick up on it but to me the former makes it sound more like he’s saying "I may still have to kill one day". Whereas the original seems to hold the connotation that if you do something once - even if it’s something as horrible as killing another human being - it becomes easier to do it again in the future because it's a choice you've made before, it's not untouchable anymore.

Chapter 25

[Yuuji expressing his regret over Nanami choosing to go fight Mahito alone.]

"Am I in your way, Nanamin?”

⇒ “Am I a burden [to you], Nanamin?”

A different nuance for this line.

“’My friend died but I wasn’t there because I’m a child.’ I wouldn't do that to you. That said"

⇒ "’My comrade died. But I wasn’t there. Why? Because I am a child.’ I would hate something like that" [to be put in such a position]

And this is just pure mistranslation. The whole “my comrade died but I wasn’t there because I’m a child” line is actually Yuuji painting a possible scenario (he does it with short sentences but the speech is overall polite). What they translated as “that said” was actually a follow-up to that scenario and could be translated as “something like that”.

N:”Being a child is not a bad thing”

⇒ “Being a child is in no way a crime”

I wanted to point this out since the original word’s most common meaning is actually “sin”, which is significantly heavier than just “not a bad thing”. Could also go with a milder “is not something to feel guilty about” here I guess.

G:”How’s the curtain coming along?”

M:”Can’t get in, can get out. This only applies to humans with weak cursed energy.”

⇒ G:”What’s the effect of the ‘curtain’?”

M:“Can't get out from the inside, can get in from the outside. (...)”

Literally the opposite for the curtain’s effect. Emphasis is Gege’s, too! Also Getou’s question was actually about how exactly the curtain in question would work, and not just how it was coming along.

M:”We’ll make them fight and force Yuji Itadori to make a binding vow in Sukuna’s favor”

Just to reiterate, whenever “binding vow” appears, it’s actually just “binding”.

[to part iii (2/2)]

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsukaisen #jjktranslation #jjk translation

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talking-bigender · 4 years

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Being Bigender- what it’s like.

I know there are already posts about being bigender and what it means, but I wanted to make my own so I could share some of my knowledge and experiences on being bigen.

Bigender: The Definition

Bigender is a gender identity described as being two genders- either simultaneously [both genders at the same time], fluidly [switching between the two] or partially [sort of like being a percentage/amount of each]. It falls under the nonbinary umbrella and is one of the many multigender identities out there.

Q- Do the two genders have to be "Girl and Boy"?

Absolutely not. This is probably the most common bigender-related misconception out there. A bigender preson could be a combination of a binary gender and nonbinary gender [example: girl and agender] or two nonbinary genders [example: androgyne and neutrois]. Bigender is not defined as only being man and woman.

Difference between Bigender and Genderfluid

Bigender and genderfluid overlap in definitions/experiences and can be used simultaneously as labels if you wish- but the main difference is that bigender is just defined as being any two genders, and it’s not a requirement to be fluid between them. Meanwhile, Genderfluid is shifting between multiple genders, and don't have to be limited to two.

Q- If you’re bigender, are you trans? Or half-trans or something?

Y’know, that’s just up to the bigender/nonbinary individual to decide. I don’t consider myself trans, and for a while I didn’t even consider myself nonbinary. I’m not cis, and I relate a lot to transgender experiences- so sure, I could technically consider myself trans. But it’s not something that appeals to me as a label, so I don’t really use it. You can just be you, and you don’t have to be a part of the trans community or even in the nonbinary community if you don’t want to.

You can also have surgery/ name change/ go on hormones if you’re bigender, it’s alllll up to you.

Presentation

There is no “right” way to present when you’re bigender. You do not have to look/dress like what is expected of both of your genders, or switch between clothing or whatever. Clothing doesn’t dictate your identity in any way. It’s just fabric. Wear it however you want!

Q- Do you have to be 50% / half of both genders to be bigender?

Nope. If the genders are not felt simultaneously or fluidly and are instead felt partially each, then the metaphorical “percentage” can be anything. A bigender person may feel 60% one gender and 40% the other, or someone else may be more 70% and 30%, or even 1% and 99%, etc.

If the amount of gender experienced can be at any percent, what’s to stop me from calling myself demigender instead of bigender?

[Demigender: feeling partially, but not fully a gender. Common labels are demigirl, demiboy, etc.]

The truth is, similar to how [bi]sexual/romantic, [poly]sexual/romatic and [pan]sexual/romantic are similar, these labels overlap and it’s really up to the person to choose which label they prefer.

ALSO. Demigenders don’t necessarily only experience two genders.

Q- Do you have to have separate sets of pronouns for each gender, or multiple names?

Nope. This isn’t a requirement. You can be bigender and have as many or as little names/sets of pronouns as you wish, and they don’t have to “match” your genders either. A boy/girl bigender could use only one name and use they/them, or an agender/boy bigender could be using two names and she/her + he/him, or neopronouns, or etc. The combinations are endless, so it’s up to the individual to figure out what they want.

And again, names do not have to “correspond” with your genders- by which i mean you don’t have to have a “boy” name or a “girl” name or a neutral name unless that’s what you want.

They/Them

They/them (at least in the English language) are considered THE neutral pronouns and the go-to for anyone. And they usually are, there’s nothing wrong with that- they’re good to use on strangers, people you don’t know the pronouns of, or people who just prefer those pronouns! However, I’d also like to point out that they are not applicable to those who you know don’t use them/ don’t have them listed as their set of pronouns. It’s not a good alternative to someone’s neopronouns, or multiple/fluxuating pronouns, or just to use on anyone who doesn’t want them used. Just don’t.

This applies to every gender identity, not just bigender.

Q- If I’m bigender, how does that affect my other orientations? Should I consider myself bi, gay, etc?

Unfortunately, currently popular lgbt+ terms [especially in relation to sexuality or romantic orientation] are not really suited for nonbinary people, so there isn’t really a good answer to this- you’ll just have to figure out what sounds best to you. Feel free to use pre-existing terminology, even if it isn’t 100% “accurate”, or just make your own!

What it’s like being bigender

Well for starters, no two bigender people are the same, nor have the same experiences. I am probably the most stereotypical example of a bigender person- I’m a boy/girl, I use he/him and she/her pronouns, and I even have a “masculine” name and a “feminine” name. As much as I’d like to share alternative bigender stories, I can only tell you mine, so keep in mind that this isn’t the universal truth for all of us.

For me, I’m simultaneously both of my genders- I’m not partially one or the other, nor am I fluid between the two. At all times, I feel 100% girl and 100% boy. “Isn’t that the same as androgyne?” Well, no. In the form of a visual, pretend there are two tinted lenses [say, yellow and blue] and stacking them on top of each other makes green, while still being separate physically. Androgyne would be more like just having a green tinted lens, without needing to stack anything.

Anyway, how’s it like? My insight to being bigender in the real world is well, uneventful, as I don’t pass, am extremely closeted and don’t intend to come out anytime soon. Most of my experiences happen internally. I sometimes get annoyed that people use only one set of pronouns for me, because although I don’t mind he or she, I would still prefer for both to be used at about the same amount. I feel comfortable around most gendered terms, although I lean towards masculine [ex: king, brother, etc]. I get uncomfortable when people consider me/refer to me as one gender [ex: calling me just a boy/girl, repeatedly]. I do have dysphoria, both social and physical. I plan on getting surgery someday. I discovered I was bigender sophmore year of highschool. That’s roughly my experience.

Q- How can I write a bigender character?

Read everything above, so at least you have some basic knowledge about the identity. If you have additional questions, my ask box/pms are always open. I’ll be glad to help anyone out with anything bigender related really.

Some other multigenders that are similar/relate to Bigender [for those who may want to look into them]

Trigender- Like bigender, but experiencing three genders instead of two

Polygender- experiencing multiple genders but not all.

Pangender- experiencing all genders [this however, does not include genders that aren’t within your experiences/ you’re able to claim, such as genders that belong to indigenous groups/ other cultures]

Demigender- feeling partially but not totally a gender.

Genderfluid- being fluid between genders [can be any genders, any amount of them and for any amount of time]

If you feel like I need to change anything about this post, then I’m open to suggestions/criticism!

#bigender #lgbt+#nonbinary #transgender #multigender #bigender masterpost

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your-world-with-nct · 4 years

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— here’s my (late) halloween blurb 🎃 !! it didn’t turn out exactly how i wanted it to, but regardless i hope you enjoy <3

💌 • 3:13am

“whose idea even was this?” you scoffed, carefully avoiding the piles of reeking trash scattered all over the entrance of the dilapidated building.

“chenle’s, unfortunately,” crush!jaemin followed closely behind you, making sure you didn’t trip over any of the old timber or garbage, “one of his family members bought the land and wanted to do it up or something, but he wanted to ‘explore’ the abandoned building before it gets knocked down.”

you continued to follow the unclear path, aided solely by your phone’s dimming flashlight in one hand and jaemin’s clammy one in the other, not because you wanted to hold his hand, but just in case you lost each other.

he yelped when he heard the snap of a twig resonate in the pitch black of the night, before realising it came from under your foot, “can you please tell me why we’re here again, babe?”

“huh? o-oh!” you practically choked, almost tripping over what you assumed was the building’s entryway, your entire body shutting down and going into panic mode, “wait, didn’t you just tell me why we’re here?”

the fact that you were more alarmed by jaemin’s use of that nickname rather than, well, not making it out alive tonight, really said something about your priorities. you knew it was all platonic but, man, couldn’t he warn you next time so that you wouldn’t have a heart attack?

“nooo, that’s not what i meant,” he giggled, his blinding smile lighting up the sheer darkness that was swallowing your surroundings, “i’m just saying, i would much rather be at home right now watching a BuzzFeed Unsolved video instead of basically making my own murder documentary series or something...”

“also, be careful with these wooden planks on the floor ‘cos they’re quite old, apparently jisung stepped on one too hard and almost fell through because his foot got stuck,” he clicked his phone off, shoving it into his pocket and scrutinising every floor panel before he stepped on it.

“as if this place wasn’t dodgy enough,” you tiptoed around a pile of old firewood and books, approaching what you assumed was the said ‘room on the right’, “has some sort of cult been burning whole ass libraries in here or something?”

“hopefully not,” jaemin muttered, flinching as the floorboards creaked when you entered the room, eyeing the room for his so-called friends that were the only reason he was stuck in some haunted mansion alone on Halloween at three in morning with his crush, “uhhh, y/n, i-i don’t think anyone’s here.”

flickering your phone’s torch around the room, you saw no sign of renjun, jeno, jisung or chenle, nothing indicating that they’d even been in here, “i’m sure we just went into the wrong room, let’s try that other door—”

a shrill banshee-like screech echoed throughout the building, before the rotting wooden door of the room slammed shut, simultaneously blowing out the singular candle’s weak flame, leaving you and jaemin with the crack of moonlight streaming in through the broken stained glass window as your only light source.

this time, jaemin was the first one to cling to you, his eyes squeezed shut as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, his heavy, uneven breaths brushing over your skin, “what, what was- why did- what was that?”

“i-i don’t know, jaems,” you whispered, your throat drying out at the close contact and the tense situation, “let’s just see if the door budges first.”

as you tried to bring yourself to let go of jaemin’s embrace, his hold on you tightened, and his pout intensified, “sorry, i-i’m scared, can you take me with you?”

that’s how you ended up sluggishly shuffling towards the door with the scared boy’s arms circled around your waist. it wasn’t the most effective but as long as he felt safe, you’d do anything.

it was weird - you’d seen jaemin this affectionate before but, never this vulnerable, not even in front of his best friends - was he really comfortable enough to be like this around you? never in your life would you have thought that the most intimate moment you’d spend with the boy you liked was trapped in a century-old building in the middle of the night on the brink of, well, death.

“hey, are you okay with this? i can see you kinda moving away, you don’t have to do this, by the way, i just needed some... comfort,” at this point, jaemin had noticed your uncomfortable aura, but had yet to realise that you were simply flustered, not disgusted.

“i’m fine, jaemin, don’t worry, i’ve just never seen you this scared before, maybe i shouldn’t have forced you to come here, my curiosity got the better of me when the boys were talking about it in the group chat, but now i just wanna go home,” you admitted, your ramble being silenced when he turned around to face you, caressing your cheek. whatever you were expecting to happen tonight, it definitely wasn’t this.

“oh, y/n, the only reason i agreed to come was because i knew how excited you were and i didn’t want you to come here alone,” jaemin’s eyes flickered to the door for a split second, before focusing on you again, “which clearly wasn’t the best idea since the only person needing protection here is me.”

the both of you finally let out a much-needed laugh, temporarily forgetting that you were literally in a horror movie scenario, “well, i appreciate you coming nonetheless. except for the bit where we got stuck in a sketchy place, i actually had fun tonight exploring with you.”

“me too, babe.”

silence filled the air as you two stayed in each other’s arms, the gleam of the moonlight hitting jaemin’s face at a perfect angle and lighting up his admirable features. you didn’t know if it was the close proximity or the supernatural magic of the moon but something in you gave you a newfound courage, as you leaned in and placed your lips onto your crush’s.

you had never been more relieved when he kissed you back, so immersed in the moment that you didn’t even notice the door fling open and your friends huddling together in awe at the sight.

“see, i told you that all we needed was some extreme conditions and they’d finally do something,” renjun whispered, but not quiet enough, as you and jaemin broke apart from one another, screaming at their sudden appearance.

“you guys have been here the whole time??? wait, was that chenle screaming before? and was it you who shut the door on us?” although you would’ve liked to revel in that moment for a little longer, you finally began to piece the mystery together, confirmed with one shameless nod from jeno.

“you’re... unbelievable...” jaemin panted, trying to regain his composure, “i thought i heard jisung fake-gag before but i didn’t think it actually was you.”

the said boy hid behind his hyungs, embarrassed to be the one that got them caught, “i heard you guys saying cute and mushy stuff to each other - i couldn’t help it.”

“so, was this all one big ploy to set us up together?” you sighed when jeno gave you another soulless nod, trying to get your head around the chaos you had just experienced, “as grateful as i am, couldn’t you have done it anywhere else at any other time?”

chenle shrugged, leading your group out of the creepy building, “eh, it was a spur of the moment thing, renjun hyung made the plan, me and jisung saw this place on the way home from the park, and it worked so, you’re welcome.”

“hey! i drove them here, i contributed too,” jeno chimed in, grinning when he saw the massive smile on his best friend’s face as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“next time, if i need your help, i’ll ask for it,” jaemin rolled his eyes, nonchalantly slipping his hands into yours, earning a few whistles and whoops from the rest of the guys, “i was actually doing quite well in there.”

“were you though?” you lowered your voice so only he could hear you, hovering outside of jeno’s car whilst the boys took their seats, “i seem to recall you being a tad bit frightened in there, hmm.”

your teasing face and cute smirk was too much for jaemin to handle, “ahh, i think we can keep that between us, babe, hm? how does that sound?”

he held his pinky out, waiting for you to comply to his deal, “as long as i get to give you kisses more often like i did back there, then my lips are sealed.”

swiftly and secretly, jaemin placed a chaste kiss on your lips before sliding into the car’s backseat, “sealed with a kiss, baby.” from then on, it’s safe to say that the boys never found out that it was in fact him screaming like a little girl in there and not you.

that night, you lay in bed, snuggled under a mountain of blankets with jaemin, pondering about what your halloween could’ve been like if not for the dreamies, since you usually didn’t celebrate it.

well, halloween had never been your favourite holiday, but, maybe, just maybe, you’d give it a chance, just like you gave na jaemin a chance.

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fishmongeringstudies · 3 years

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eleven: before the first day of the world

i always thought the quote 'we contain multitudes' was a john green quote because of the way its use had, over time, evolved from unironic to deeply ironic to some weird squeamish mix of the two that meant half of the audience would cringe when it was deployed while the other half would nod very seriously and lean back in their seats, thinking fondly about the summer of '97. for the record, i've always been part of the former. except for this one time in my anthropology class this spring where we were talking about the complexities of human behavior in different environments and i, seeing a glowing opportunity to inject some 2012 tumblr-era humor into the room, typed into the zoom chat: we contain multitudes.

unfortunately, we do. but not in the john green sense, which would mean we smoke cigarettes and want to contribute to world peace, or we crochet blankets and simultaneously want to destroy the small backwater town we grew up in with an electric chainsaw. i'm talking about something less looking for alaska and more i will rip all your hair out with a screwdriver. something that cuts at the fabric of your relationship with the people around you, something that makes it hard to figure out which path to take back to your dorm.

have you ever been ruined by someone who, after ruining you, skipped off happily to lunch with jessica who lives down the hallway and whom you would trust with your bank account number, and found yourself unable to do anything but give half of the lunch parade your blessings?

let's make it simpler: sometimes people are more fucked up than they're worth.

and yet i believe that there is no such thing as a bad person. the adjective-noun combination assumes that the noun always possesses the quality of the adjective, while the people who elbow you down the stairs and into the yawning mouth of hell and then wander off singing cheerily into the woods are the same ones who bring friends care packages when they're sick, who entertain long, thoughtful conversations about philosophy and the flaws of the world, who make great lab partners in group projects. the girl whose definition of love is a chain around the neck is a wonderful orator. the boy who only knows how to understand other people by cutting them up and putting them back together wants to design buildings that will save lives. people are inconsistent. we contradict ourselves and then, upon noticing the contradictions, panic, knock over a vase of flowers, and burn the whole house down.

it always comes back to fire when i write about the last fourteen weeks of spring. we're incredibly flammable, you and i. we're instant fire-starters. we're chemically insane.

at the start of the semester when i allowed someone to tell me in an awkward, prepubescent voice that i was broken i wanted to hate them. then i wanted to forgive them; then i wanted to be their friend. three months later i discovered how hard it is to stay on good terms with someone who knifed you without even realizing they were holding something in their hand to begin with, and yet he's still here. talking to the person who lives at the other end of the hallway. walking to the dining hall with the alligator stairwell, his hands shoved in his pockets. trying to graduate. trying to stay alive.

dear friend: i don't want to be your friend anymore. but don't die on me.

that's the sentiment i leave spring with. a bittersweet note that's more bitter than sweet, like ninety-seven percent cacao chocolate, the really awful shit, the stuff i like to think only white american yoga moms with fat apple-faced babies tied to their hips are willing to eat, and even then, only for the instagram sponsorship. when i think of spring i think of the aftertaste, because everything was sweet in the moment, in the immediacy of the screaming sun and the shifting sky above your head. everything looked like it was made of stars. it was only after i'd chewed up the burnt thing you picked off the ground and gave me, swallowed, and walked the long way back to my dorm, that i realized you'd handed me a pile of dirt.

it was pretty good dirt though, and you know the other day someone asked me, after scrolling through this blog with an eye on their watch and the other on the words flying across the screen, if i hated it here after all. if i wish i'd stayed in singapore, among the palm fronds and the pale, moon-white butterflies. no, i said incredulously, my spoon jammed in my kool-aid jello cup. this is the happiest i've been in ten years.

lately i've been trying to articulate the sense of hopelessness i experienced while growing up. how does one even begin to describe the endless staircase of the days, how each week yawned before me like an abyss with an immortal, unbreakable heart? how do you give a voice to despair?

this morning i went to target with my friend. we didn't find a rectangular frying pan so i bought a bag of mandarins instead, and it was sunny on the way there but on the way back a smear of white cloud dashed across the sky and wrapped its soft fingers around the sun's mouth, by which i mean it got colder, by which i mean that for a while, it felt like spring again. when we got back to our dorm i put the mandarins in the fridge and wandered back into my room and then put on the podcast i've been listening to all week, listened to them talk about monsters and knights and the intricacies of war, love, forgiveness. today i didn't sleep through lunch like i did the day before. today i sat in the garden and read a book.

i think the thing about growing up the way i did is that by the time i was fourteen it felt like it was all over. like i'd ruined everything before it'd ever really begun, and even knowing what steps i might take to mend the god-sized crater i'd dug in my backyard, i couldn't bring myself to take them. so things ended. and because life is a bitch and forgiveness never comes from those you most desire it from, you just kind of laugh and drag yourself through the debris.

i think this is why, in spite of the shouting and the cherry-flavored regrets and the hallways full of footsteps like thunderstorms, and the girls and the boys with their teeth like claws, their claws like daggers, their words careless enough to kill, i feel like a person here. because i came here with nothing. two suitcases, one weighing twenty kilograms and the other weighing nothing at all. i repeat: this is nothing at all. do you understand what i am saying? i was no one when i got here. and now i am no one with some prepubescent mistakes scratched into my forearm and a few ideas about self-preservation. but the pages of this book are still blank. they are inviting me to fill them with the illegible dancing chicken scrawl that is my specialty and the bane of every english professor's existence.

i look over my shoulder and my old bookshelf full of journals, red journals, journals packed with the misery of the last nineteen years shrugs its shoulders. it says they gave you bad books and you wrote half-decent stories; what else could you have done? you did the best that you could in the circumstances you were given. you're still doing that now. then, satisfied with its little speech, it burns itself down.

and that's all i need, really, to keep going.

05.31.21

#trying a new thing in which i stick the post under a cut and pick a nice line from the thing to use as a sick one liner opening #let me know how you like it. if you dont like it i will come to your doorstep and cry for 8 hours just so you know #but i will only accept honest feedback of course. just letting you know #you know #yeah #oh yeah

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vaulthigh · 3 years

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Written in the stars.

Saturday, I stepped onto the baking 100+ degree University of Oregon track to compete in my second Olympic Trials. The feelings overcoming me were quite different than those I experienced in 2016, which back then were derived from being one of the fresh faces on the scene - one of the youngsters who had “plenty of years” to chase the Olympic dream. There may have been some pressure felt then, but this time around it was incomparable.

The Olympic hype is no doubt a factor in the emotional roller coaster most experience at the U.S. Olympic Trials. I compete 9 months out of the year every year, yet this competition (and the Games themselves, of course) is the only one that really grabs the attention of the public eye outside of the track community. Not even World Championships can compare to the Olympic hype, which I find ironic because that team is just as difficult to make, and you end up competing against the same fierce competitors at Worlds as you do at the Games.

I digress.

The point of that paragraph is to say - the pressure was on for the Trials, and while I preach to interpret it as support and encouragement from outside sources, it’s hard to overlook the feeling of expectation when I repeatedly hear the phrase “oh, you’ll make the team easily. Just go for gold in Tokyo!”

“Make the team easily”… ha. The Trials are a beast, and even the top dogs have to be on their A-game. No bad days allowed, because a dozen other athletes slightly down the totem pole are chomping at the bit, rearing to snag those rare 3 spots on the Team. My bad day is their chance to claim the spot, and rightfully so - but no matter how good you are, you can never go in thinking you have something in the bag. That’s when your bag will be lost, and you’ll never get it back. (Sort of like losing luggage while transferring through Charles de Gaulle airport - it’s just gone 😅. I hope someone who has followed me a while giggles at my reference.)

All this to say, the pressure was surmountable, and the most unfortunate part of my story is my confidence on the runway has been lacking the last month or two. It’s been a culmination of attempting to push my physical boundaries and raise my grip, but also combined with attempting to change technical things this season. I ended up biting off way more than I can chew. Being at the level I am, I will be the first to say “don’t try changing too much at once, that can really mess you up.” Well, I guess my judgement has been clouded by my burning desire to improve, and I ended up going against my own advice without recognizing it - until things came crashing down, that is. And I mean that in a literally way.

In my final competition prior to the trials, I ended up going back down to my shorter series of poles because I have felt my technique suffering. I was putting so much energy into trying to jump on the longer poles that my training sessions lacked focus on the basics of my form, which is what made me a 5 meter pole vaulter in the first place. Grip height never got me there - physical ability did. I cannot lose that because speed and power, and my ability to attack at the takeoff, are what made me great. They are my bread and butter.

While change can be a good thing, there is always going to be an adjustment period. Unfortunately for athletes, we still have to compete during the awkward times, which leaves you trying to compete at your best when you’re in the middle of a metamorphosis. It’s going to look as though you’re suffering, but in reality you’re just in the middle of morphing into a butterfly 🦋, and no butterfly can take flight before it leaves the cocoon.

That’s how I feel right now. I believe big positive changes are on the horizon, but they will only happen with persistence and positivity, and also with understanding given to myself from myself. As elite athletes, we hold ourselves to the highest of expectations at all times. I know the process I am going through, yet still was so infuriated at myself for my performance at the Trials. I don’t want to lose that fury and that fire, because that is what’s going to get me through to my goal, but I do want to work on not being so hard on myself. I know it sounds elementary, but it’s true at all levels. If anyone understands the struggles you’re enduring, it should be you. As humans, we should be allowed to show ourselves compassion just as we do toward others.

In that final competition before Trials that I referred to, I felt just ok on the shorter poles. I mean, no worse and no better than I do on the longer ones. (For reference, I’m talking 4.45m/14’7” poles versus 4.60m/15’1” poles.) I am glad I went back to them because it made me truly recognize my technique was suffering. It had nothing to do with what poles I was jumping on. I needed to “get my jump back”, regardless of poles, and I needed to do it fast because the trials were two weeks away at that time.

A few days later I did another vault session on the short poles, and I think it was probably the worst practice I have had in years. Like, literal years. I mean it. I don’t even know why - my body felt fine, the conditions were fine, etc. For whatever reason I just didn’t have it that day. I would run down the runway feeling good, plant the pole, and completely miss the swing and connection. I chalk that day up to sport. That’s just sport. Your bad days are going to happen and you sometimes can search and scrape for an explanation, and there simply isn’t one. You just didn’t have it that day.

“Well, crap.” I thought, when I ran through my last vault of the session and the pole ripped the skin right off the palm side of my thumb. “I needed that skin” I said, laughing in disbelief and also laughing because my body didn’t know what to do with my panic. Isn’t the human body such a strange thing? I felt panic and my reaction was to laugh - not sure that was an appropriate reaction but hey, I’m weird and I know it.

So now I was one week from the trials, I had just had a poor competition, and even more poor practice session, and ripped off vital skin I needed to heal within six days. A pole vaulters ability to grip is vital.

My emotions went numb at that point. I think I had worried away all of my worries. I decided to focus on getting lots of sleep, nourishment, and healing my hand. I kept it bandaged properly 24/7, and soft with ointments. This turned out to be the perfect approach because day 5 it was nearly perfectly healed and didn’t end up being an issue for my first competition day at prelims.

Prelims were absolutely necessary for me, and ended up being the first step in getting my groove back. Aside from it being hot (which I’m used to, thank you Arkansas…) the conditions in prelims were close to perfect. Throughout the warmup I got my feet under me and felt I successfully shook off the former horrid practice. I made 4.50m on my first jump, and with that single jump I qualified for the final round.

Two days later, the heat dome in Portland roasted the stadium to a whopping 111 degrees F. I wanted to take as few jumps as possible the get myself to the higher bars. In hindsight I know that was the right call because wow, doping control took me two hours because I couldn’t pee 90ml of fluid. (90ml is the absolute minimum required amount for a drug test - and it’s not much!) In warmups my run started to feel like “Sandi” again. I hadn’t felt like that in quite a while. I entered the competition and made 4.50m and 4.60m on my first attempts, but I didn’t expect those to be my only jumps of the day.

The bar went to 4.70m and I felt like I was rolling and ready to go now, shorter poles and all. It didn’t matter. First attempt, huge blow through. Needed a stiffer pole, so I missed. Second attempt, same thing! I landed so deep in the pit I had zero chance of making that bar. “Ok” I thought to myself “the next bigger pole has got to be the one. That’s always been my money pole!” So I went up a pole a third time, and after watching Morgan run down and make 4.70m (congrats Morgan!) I knew I had to respond. At this point I didn’t even know I was already in 3rd place and on the team, in my mind, I had to make this height to qualify. (Thanks ADHD, I’m not so great at processing those things mid competition when the adrenaline is pumping.) I ran down with more confidence than I had had in a few weeks time, jumped and had plenty of height over the bar! But my energy was a bit off center and my arm caught it on the way down. I missed my third attempt. I landed in the pit and was rolling out of the landing, simultaneously throwing my hands to my head in frustration, when I heard the announcer clearly state that I was one of the three on the team.

*Cue sigh of relief*, yet I couldn’t shake my extreme frustration so quickly. I had just had a bad day at the Olympic Trials. Needless to say, I was embarrassed. That’s not the feeling I wanted to have while qualifying for my second Games.

That night I experienced just about every emotion that exists. I went through sadness and disbelief, feelings of being lost and hopeless, then anger and rage at myself. I finally fell asleep at 3 am and woke up a few hours later to the videos of my jumps. My dad had texted them to me. I hadn’t wanted to even look at them after the meet because I was so angry and upset, but after I collected my mess of a brain, I took a solid look.

I found hope.

Seeing the videos helped me realize the reality - that my approach was better than it had been in weeks, and it really comes down to the fact that the poles were just too small. That’s it. I just needed to trust the feeling that my run was good and go up poles even in warm ups, but at the time I didn’t recognize that, and I didn’t go up. I started on my small pole.

So here I am three days later, and I feel like a completely different person than Saturday night. I have had time to process my emotions, endure the roller coaster, then watch my jumps with a technical eye. I am so close to being “myself” again, I just have to stay the course.

I am determined. I am going to pick up where I left off on that third and final attempt at the Olympic Trials. I am going to push forth and forge my own path. I had a bad day at the Olympic Trials, and I was still lucky enough to snag the 3rd spot to Tokyo. That was written in the stars, and I can’t help but feel it happened for a reason. I am meant to compete in Tokyo - even the stars believe it to be so, and I’m not about to waste this chance I was just handed.

Have you ever caught a shooting star? Me either. But I’m going to try. 💫

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lifeextracts · 3 years

Text

I am freshly 21.

They talk about 21 as a turning point, in a world over-populated by American media and pop culture, 21 is glamorous, 21 is independent, 21 is desirable. Yet the dawning years of my young adulthood are marked by turbulence juxtaposing the image of stability fed to me throughout my teen years. From my perspective, 21 marks my removal from my parent's health insurance, letters from my bank with new terms and more paperwork to fill out.

There is no glamour. In a country where 18 marks adulthood, the common tropes portrayed by the media are experiences of the past making 21 another passing year of my adult life, yet one of which I do not understand the emphasis of. Alcohol has caused more harm than good and three years of university have left me close to a nervous wreck at the worst of times (yet have also manifested themselves as my most enjoyable years of life).

The turbulence of young adulthood is unforeseen within the ignorance and naivety of the teenage years. Teenagers are perpetually selfish and often lack in the possession of foresight, adulthood is a fantasy and an escape from inevitable feelings of angst. These commonly experienced teenage emotions are normal and serve as a vital transition period into adulthood, yet adulthood is arguable more turbulent as young people discover that things are not what they seem to be.

Personally, young adulthood awoke a great anger within me, one stronger than that of my teen years. The emergence of anger as a dominant emotion can be attributed to a loss of innocence. Exposed to a world outside my bubble of communities I frequented as a teenager was also an exposure to larger varieties of people, along with more people that fell outside my world view. I realised that not all people were likeable and that the actions of others were often perpetuated by underlying selfish motives. Unfortunately, it was a lesson learnt by experience over observation, which left me wary of those around me and not entirely ready to trust. The teenage girl who had always assumed the positive intent of other was gone, replaced by defence mechanisms and the new habit to "prepare for the worse".

As a naturally anxious person and perfectionist, this habit did not serve me well, acting as an amplifier of my negative emotions. My work was never good enough, I was hesitant to trust others and I was prone to the occasional mental breakdown. Whilst it may sound as if I were in a bad time of my life, I was simultaneously experiencing some of my greatest experiences. The combinations of my private and public experiences would accumulate to become a sense of instability, only identified as instability due to the large conflict in emotions I would experience in the matter of days or hours. Maybe this classification was influenced by the stereotypical view that women are considered unstable (a belief the result of the internalised misogyny that all women carry to an extent) and I am still often convinced that my hormones may have a role to play.

Yet I am still young and there are still changes that await me. I write about my experiences as a release mechanism and hope that it can help others who may feel the same. I do not have the solutions and I am okay with that, yet I am an advocate for self awareness.

It is worth mentioning as a closing note that you are not alone, if any of the feelings in this post resonate with you, I suggest considering reaching out to someone for support.

#21 years #young adult #youth #blog post #mental health #anxeity #lives

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sneezyminniejo · 3 years

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Hiii can you write a fic where Chan was feeling weird all week but doesn't think about it and then during the Chan's room he gets very sick? 🥺💛

Here it is, hope you enjoy

TW emeto

Vlive Disaster

Chan had been having a terrible week. When it came to dance practice, he was making more mistakes than he usually did. In vocal practice, he was having trouble maintaining breath control and reaching certain notes. And when he was in the studio with Changbin and Jisung he could barely write two lines of lyrics before completely zoning out. He and the other members thought that he was just stressed out over the rapidly approaching comeback. They tried to get Chan to skip Chan’s room this week, so he could take a break, but Chan insisted that he needed to do it for both himself and Stays.

Before Chan started his vlive, the members tried ponting out one more time that he really needed to rest before they got caught up in comeback promotions, and the fact that it was 10:30 at night. Chan shrugged them off, saying he’d be fine, he enjoys spending time with stays, and he normally does his lives this late at night. He went to the usual room he does his live in and got set up.

Shortly after Chan had started the live, he was getting a bunch of comments saying that he looked tired, and was he okay. He immediately went to reassure stay saying that he had merely had a rough week and that just hanging out with stay was making him feel loads better.

Fifteen minutes into the live, Chan started to feel really weird. His stomach began to form knots,he began to salivate, and he was beginning to simultaneously feel hot and cold. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, so he put his sweater on and taking a few sips of the drink he’d brought with him. When the drink felt like it was just sitting in his stomach, Chan was beginning to think that he should have listened to the others about taking a break, but, he’ll just suffer the consequences in forty five minutes, when the live is officially over.

Back at the dorms the other seven members were talking amongst themselves about their concern for Chan. They all knew that he needed a break, and even though he said he would come back right after he finished the live, there was no guarantee he actually would. Seeing as Felix and Seungmin decided they would go back to the studio to make sure Chan actually came back. They promised they would take kicking and screaming if they had too.

Chan was seriously starting to not feel good, he was having to take sips of his drink every few minutes because his mouth kept filling with saliva. His stomach was churning, and he was thinking he was going to puke soon. He still had half an hour left of the live, and he didn’t want to disappoint Stays, so he decided to power through even though he was starting to see comments asking if he was feeling okay and that he looked sick.

It was only a few minutes later that his body won the battle, and Chan began vomiting all over his lap. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any sort of trash can or bucket in the room with him, so the vomit went all over the floor when he managed to redirect the stream.

Unfortunately for Seungmin and Felix that was the exact scene they walked in on. Chan bent over the side of his chair, vomit all over the floor as it continued to stream out of his mouth.The vlive stream was still going. Felix quickly said something about they were going to take care of Chan and update them on his condition later before turning off the stream. Seungmin meanwhile went off to find a mop, bucket, and trash can.

When Seungmin returned he gave the trash can to Felix who immediately thrust it under Chan’s face and then helped him to a different chair in the room. Seungmin got started on mopping up the puke. Chan continued to vomit for another two minutes before his stomach finally gave him a break. He immediately broke down in tears about how he let down Stays by ruining the live.

“Chan-hyung, you don’t need to worry about Stays right now.” Felix said as he placed his hand on the older’s forehead. “You have a fever. Your body is screaming at you to take a break. You are going to come back to the dorms with us. You will go straight to bed, and you will stay there for the next few days while the seven of us nurse you back to health” Chan wanted to protest, but one glare from Seungmin that implied he and/or Minho would sit on him quickly changed his mind.

Chan went straight to bed as he was told, and as he thought about things, he had symptoms that were indicative of becoming sick the entire time. Brain fog, zoning out/dozing off, and voice not cooperating were all things he had experienced the last few times he had gotten sick. He really should have listened to the others.

The first thing Chan did the following morning was bolt to the bathroom to puke again. Changbin was there in a heartbeat rubbing his back and giving him reassuring words. Once he was done Changbin helped Chan to the couch where Jisung brought over some soup that Felix had with some help from Hyunjin. Minho and Jeongin put themselves on Chan-sitting duty, literally. If Chan tried to get up for anything other than going to the bathroom or going to his own bed, Minho would pin him down, while Jeongin would go get whatever it was Chan was wanting to grab.

It was three days before Chan had completely stopped puking, and another two before he started feeling human again. The entire week the other seven wouldn’t let him even think about leaving, not even when it was time for another Chan’s Room. “Guys I’m fine. I haven’t thrown up in four days and I haven’t had a fever in three. You guys kept me home for the past two days even though I haven’t had any symptoms. I am healthy enough to do my weekly vlive.” Chan said completely exasperated.

Minho glared at Chan before speaking. “We are well aware that you’re healthy enough to do your live. We just aren’t going to let you leave the dorm to do it tonight. You can either do your live here at the dorm, or you can skip it.” Seungmin chimed in afterward. “Hyung, even though you feel better, we don’t want you to over exert your body too soon. Your body could relapse and if that happens, we won’t hesitate to take you to the hospital and get a doctor to prescribe bed rest.”

Chan knew that Seungmin wasn’t bluffing on the hospital comment. The only reason they didn’t take him to the hospital was because his fever had only been around 101.7 and the most he had puked in one day was twice, and he’d been able to keep food and drinks down in between. He sighed and went to the couch to get set up.

The second Chan started the live, the comments were blowing up asking if he was feeling better. “Yes I’m feeling much better. Thanks for asking. It appears I had a bout of the stomach flu and I misconstrued my symptoms as being tired and stressed from comeback prep. The guys all took very good care of me, and no it doesn’t appear anyone caught whatever I had.” Chan smiled as he saw a bunch of comments with hearts appear on the feed. “All right, let’s listen to some music now.”

The live went very well and because they were all at the dorm, each member made an appearance at one point or another. At the end of the live Chan promised both Stays and his members that he would do a better job listening to what his body tries to tell him so that he wouldn’t have a repeat of what happened the week before.

#sickfic #emeto #stray kids

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