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thewildwaffle · 4 years

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Unknown Powers

Entry Log Post Crash: Day 1

In all honesty, I am surprised by the number of our unit that survived the crash. Thank the stars, though. It could have been worse, it could have been so much worse. When the ship’s engines took damage yesterday and we started falling from the planet’s orbit, I thought we were all goners.

I suppose our survival is largely thanks to Human Fatima who risked her life and grabbed everyone and yanked as many as she could reach into the nearest closet. Between her and Human James and Biet Kuhir bracing the walls, we made it out with relatively minor injuries. I mean, we were all hurting, our medic is busy as frewan, but we're all alive.

The humans showed us how to construct some "lean-tos" out of parts of the ship to sleep in tonight. It's not much, but it's better than nothing. Apparently survival training in the wilderness is part of human upbringing? Or part of their required disciplines? I’m not sure. Before, I would have said that such requirements would have been a bit excessive, but now? I and every other survivor are very thankful for their preparedness.

Hopefully tomorrow we can figure out the rest of what we need: clean water, safe food sources, etc. I'm just glad we have scanners. They could very well be lifesavers for those tasks.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 3

I said earlier that no one in our unit had sustained too serious of injuries. That's not to say anyone's in great condition, but we're hobbling around as best we can. The humans seem to be recovering remarkably fast. I know, I know, that may sound like their typical MO, but even medic Kippari Sefra seemed a bit taken back by their recovery and improved mobility. All's for the best, I suppose, the rest of the unit seems to barely be in commission. The humans have managed to forage and gather food and have been carrying water from a spring they found not too far from our site. They even gathered wood and started two fires in our camp yesterday. They left Kuhir and I and a few others to tend to them on shifts as they continue to gather supplies or construct better shelters. I don't know where they've found this newfound energy of theirs, but may the stars bless them.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 8

Humans are weird, but I don’t think even they are supposed to be this weird.

Our camp has transformed into a nearly proper little village with all the work the humans have put into it. And it’s just the two of them! They are tireless, I swear! But not in the way they usually are, no. Everyone knows humans have ridiculous levels of endurance. This goes way beyond that. They move as if their blood’s been replaced with trimethylxanthine, or as they fondly call it, caffeine. Our scanners have not found any trace of the poison in the air or in any of the plants we’ve been consuming, so it’s not caffeine. Even if it was, their levels of energy still go beyond that. I’ve seen a human on caffeine plenty of times, they took out a third of an enemy boarding party on their own with nothing but a bent pipe. They’re crazy energetic, but then they always crash and need extra sleep.

Humans Fatima and James just keep going though, at even higher and higher levels of energy. Medic Kippari has been monitoring them, but they seem fine. They keep telling us to stop worrying and that they’ve never felt better.

But that’s not even the weirdest part.

Since the camp has been coming along so well, and since I’ve been able to get some rest and healing, I volunteered to go out with Human Fatima to help gather food. There are a lot of trees nearby and many have fruits that our scanners have confirmed are safe for everyone to eat. We were gathering up as many foods as we could in the baskets we had woven from some sturdy grasses when Fatima spied some fruits. They were ones we had found early on to be safe and they were so good we had eaten as many as we could until they started becoming scarce in our immediate area. These were the first ones we had found in a few days. The problem was, they were at the top of a very tall tree. Humans, turriets, and even a few of the larger skeeps are pretty decent at climbing trees, but this tree had no good holds or branches low enough to reach.

Did that stop Human Fatima? IT SHOULD HAVE?!?!?!

She put down her basket, braced herself and jumped. And I mean jumped. Like, five times her own height!

Now, I can’t say that I’m a human expert by any means, but even I know that’s not normal! What in the shining light is going on around here?!!?!

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 9

Okay, still pretty freaked out from yesterday. No one knows how Fatima can jump like that, the gravity on this planet is normal. I suppose that’s a bit lighter than gravity on their home planet, but not by much. Certainly not enough for a 50 crute jump straight up! After we got back to the camp and informed everyone, especially Medic Kippari, who is getting more and more overwhelmed with trying to figure out all the strange behaviors and changes of our humans. As soon as Human James found out what Fatima did, he tried doing the same. The humans have gotten stuck in the tops of trees three times today alone.

The most confounding thing is that no one else in our unit seems to be experiencing the same changes.

No one’s sure how to feel about this. Whatever’s going on with the humans, they still seem to be in a stable condition. Granted, it’s a weird and unprecedented condition as far as anyone here’s concerned, but it’s stable. Even if it wasn’t, it’s not like we can really do anything about it in our situation.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 13

We were attacked today. Wild creatures native to this planet were passing through and must not have liked that we were in their territory. They showed no signs of advanced intelligence or sentience, just feral hunger and viciousness. We could hear them braying long before we saw them. I’ll be honest, I was very tempted to hide myself in the rough shelters with the wounded - the beasts were terrifying! - but I knew I could never live with myself after such cowardice. I grabbed what weapons I could and waited. When the pack of them came into our little clearing, I started praying my last rites. I was sure this would be it.

The creatures were huge, hairy, and had wicked tusks and sharp claws on the end of each of their six legs. What really got me were the pale eyes though. Looking into them, I thought my soul would liquify into my toes. We stood there for what seemed like an eternity, just hoping beyond a hope that they would leave us be. They didn’t though, the breeze shifted towards them and they started approaching and snarling with what I’m sure must have been hunger.

Before they could get too far, Fatima and James jumped at them, yelling and screaming. This startled everyone, but the monsters seemed to recover quicker and weren’t happy. I know a lot of crews like having humans around because of their reckless bravery and fierce protective instincts for those they bond with, but in that moment, I cursed them. I thought for sure they would be ripped to shreds in front of our eyes.

Instead, as the beasts leapt, the humans would grab them right out of the air and toss them across the clearing like they were a pack of gooji fruits. Their numbers swarmed the humans, but beyond any scrap of logic or understanding, the humans kept fighting, punching, scratching, throwing, etc.

I’m not sure how long it all went on, I was too numb from shock to correctly account for time, but eventually the pack of creatures retreated, squealing in fear of the strange monsters that kept them from what should have been an easy meal.

We checked them over and couldn’t believe what we saw. They weren’t hurt at all. Those beasts had been all over them, cutting, slashing and biting, but the humans’ skin looked like they’d hardly been touched.

I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on. I… something is wrong, or… hhhhhhrrrrr… this is weird. This is weird and I feel sick with worry. What is going on with our humans?!?!

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 16

Okay. I’m going to be honest with you, entry log and whoever finds this. Things just keep getting weirder and weirder, and I fear I’m just starting to get to a point where I can no longer be shocked. That may just be a defense mechanism, after all, if I continued to freak out over everything that’s been going on with Humans Fatima and James, I think I would mentally break down.

I just… I guess this is just happening. … Anyway.

Developments with the humans since we crashed on the planet’s surface include: rapid healing, increased strength and endurance, nearly impenetrable skin (as far as we dare test), extremely high jumping, night vision, increased speed and agility, super-keen hearing, and apparently the radiation of the sun doesn’t bother their skin in the slightest (this is apparently a problem on their home planet), in fact being in the sun all day, hard at work I might add) they seem to end up all the more radiant and full of energy. *sigh* Well, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started flying or whatever next.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 20

The humans can now fly. Well, not properly fly, fly. More like when they reach the zenith of their jumps, they can hover a bit and control their descent. Do you want to know what my reaction was when I saw that for the first time? I just said, “Sure. This might as well happen.” Because that’s basically where I’m at now. No one knows what the frewan is going on. Hopefully the Glip Unit will have some insight.

Oh yea, I forgot to mention, we got a transmitter to work from the ship’s wreckage. Um, yeah, that probably should have been, like, the first thing I said, but honestly humans are flying now so…

Anyway, we made contact with the Glip Unit, apparently they were able to survive as well. They suffered a few casualties and had more injured than our unit, but considering their unit is larger, the probability of that being the case was high. The section of the ship they were in must have broke off from ours when we fell. They’ve got some humans in their unit, so maybe they have some insight for us. They’re bringing their tech too, so hopefully we can build a transmitter strong enough to send an SOS off-world.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 25

The Glip Unit arrived today. They have four humans in their group. That’s how they were able to pack over what must have basically been half the wreckage from their part of the ship. As well as their injured, supplies, and important resources from near their crash site. Everyone carried as much as they could, but they, or I mean the humans, carried the vast bulk. They crashed over 40 PS units away from us. So obviously their humans are experiencing the same changes ours are.

The ship’s chief science officer was with them though, and they did have a few interesting theories as to what caused these impossible changes. The most widely believed ones have to do with radiation. We’re not sure from what though, or why it’s not affecting anyone else. Human James brought it up that it was from the sun’s radiation. This planet is orbiting a blue giant. I think he was jesting because he also went on to explain about some “super man” who was from a planet with a red giant of a star who came to Earth and the yellow star’s radiation gave him incredible (and I mean that literally that they surely cannot be credible) super powers like super strength, x-ray and heat vision, super speed, and flight. Okay, that last one really made me stop and consider for a second. Well, those last two points actually.

But… no. That story is preposterous and obviously fictional. I’m pretty sure I even heard something about a “comic book.” From what I understand of human culture, I believe that means it’s just a fictional story made for entertainment or propaganda. Even the other humans, although more willing to entertain the idea, surely have taken it as a joke the way they are laughing and going on about it.

There must be some other reason. A logical explanation.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 38

I realize it’s been a while since my last entry. I had to share my “bunk” as it were with some of the newcomers from the other unit and somehow misplaced my comm device in the shuffle. I’ve spent the better part of two days looking for this flargin’ thing. Turns out I had left it by the meal preparation fire spot. How did I find it? I didn’t. Human Rafael of the Glip Unit did. How? Apparently, when he found out I had lost it, he tracked it down through scent.

I’ve read the human handbook. I know that humans don’t have the greatest sense of smell, especially not in comparison to my own. And yet, I couldn’t track down my own comm device, but a human could. I’ve added this to the very long and still-growing list of new and improved abilities the humans have exhibited since arriving.

Well, um, also there’s been a bit of activity in the past twelve days while my comm was missing. Like I said, the Glip Unit moved in. Everything has been very smooth with combining forces and resources. We managed to set up a transmitter that’s been sending out a signal and how to find us this last week. We haven’t had any feedback from it yet, but it’s only been a few days.

We had a few more native creatures visit our camp. None as scary as the first beasts that attacked us, though there was a flock of small flying reptiles that took to dive bombing and biting at us. Once they were scared off, we later found that Humans James, Mae, and Boris had caught a few and were attempting to keep them as pets. We had them release their “tiny dragons” as they called them.

They weren’t happy, but listened and followed. Honestly at this point, I’m just glad the humans are still respecting the established line of authority. This is a wild planet, after all. We’re surrounded by nature’s laws of the strongest doing as they please, and honestly, the humans are without a doubt the strongest here. I don’t think they’ll do anything, stars forbid if they decided to mutiny. I do believe in our bonds though. I have faith in their loyalty and our friendships. Humans, even before all the weirdness this planet has added to them, have always been renowned for their legendary familial ties and pack bonding. I don’t think these new powers can strip them of that.

And honestly, I hope that my faith is accurately placed, because if not, we are in trouble.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 44

I hope that our signal will be found, but no one knows how long that will take for it to heard and then send a response and for them to arrive to save us. It could be tomorrow, it could be… well it could be a long time from tomorrow.

The humans are concerned about food supplies. At first, many of us were confused at why. There’s plenty of fruit in the trees, roots in the ground, and non-poisonous wildlife to hunt. It was pointed out by some in my unit that such supplies could change. Their home planets, as well as the human’s planet experience what are known as seasons. It could be warm and plentiful for a space of time now, but it could rotate through times of cold barrenness that we are not currently prepared for.

We don’t know enough about the orbital path and tilt of this planet to know if such seasons could affect us.

Even though we’re not sure, the humans have been arguing that we should prepare for “winter.” They want to do this by reinforcing our huts for possible cold weather, gathering extra wood and storing it for fires, gathering soft plant fibers or tanning hides from some of the beasts that the humans and biets have killed for food, saying that they could make extra clothes with them to keep warm. For the most part, these actions seem pretty harmless, they are using the resources or byproducts of resources we’re already using. On some, the preparations are a bit time-consuming, but honestly, if it’s keeping the humans busy and occupied in their “spare time,” all the better.

The only real qualms some have with their preparations are the human’s requests to start planting seeds from the fruits and plants we’ve gathered for food. That would make sense in the long-run, but I had to voice my concerns with everyone - I know enough about human cultures to know that if they begin cultivating crops, the rest of humanity might view this planet as a human colony. It wouldn’t matter if the humans had only planted the crops for survival. Or if those humans were crew members of a Galactic Confederation crew. Similar things have happened with planets in the past, and the political disputes are still going on. I just… I don’t want to go there. The humans have argued that if they don’t do something to stock up for winter, we won’t even be around for such future disputes. I argued that we don’t even know if this planet will have a winter.

Acting Lieutenant Greetch decided that we would not allow crops to be planted. The humans weren’t happy, and honestly, I’m a little nervous. Not just because the humans are upset with the decision, but also because, what if they’re right? What if winter comes and we starve?

By the stars, I hope we’re found soon.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 50

We received a response to our SOS signal! It’s from a Galactic Confederation ship. They’re coming for us! We’re getting out of here!

Everyone’s thrilled. We’re preparing a party of sorts - lots of food and games. Might as well use up the resources we’ve gathered, we’ve got plenty and will be gone soon anyway. We’ll even have left-overs to bring aboard the ship when it arrives, barring no one aboard has any allergies to our local fruits.

Entry Log, Post Crash Day 61

We saw the ship hovering in the sky this morning, high up in the atmosphere. By midday, several shuttles had been launched down to ferry us and our supplies aboard.

The Captain of the ship, Captain Benga, and a few officers and medics came down to survey our condition. They were impressed by our camp and even more so with the means of how it was put together. They’re just as baffled with the humans’ current condition as we are, though their medic did agree that some form of radiation did seem a possible cause. Captain Benga has asked that I turn in my entry logs once we get settled on the ESS Chickar.

I thought the humans would be happy to leave. However, I noticed they were the last ones to board the shuttles. They wandered forlornly through the huts that we were leaving behind, claiming that they were going to give the place “one last check to make sure nothing important is left behind.” Human Fatima had to be ordered to her seat after the second “all aboard” call was given.

I have a sneaking suspicion, or rather, maybe more of a foreboding feeling, that humanity is not done with the planet that they now insist on naming Krypton.

***

End Entry Log. Recording uploaded Galactic Stardate 208.147.4.2601 Data stored and copied aboard ESS Chickar.

Additional Notes:

Chief Medical Officer Squifra Gharti under Captain Liutan Benga. Concerning the humans found and rescued from the planet Tarsi 6 (Krypton) among Units Glip and Sen of the former ESS Luxena.

The six humans in question were found possessing awe-inspiring capabilities. From the included Entry Log, as well as from our own testing, we have listed their abilities to include prolonged stamina, vastly increased strength, agility, hearing, vision, smell, and speed. Healing speeds have been recorded up to 62 times more rapid than usual with certain injuries, though more serious wounds are unknown and will remain untested for obvious ethical reasons. Muscular structure appears to have remained largely unchanged from control group (humans assigned to ESS Chickar, as well as human anatomical information sources) and yet and capable of feats such as jumps over 67 standard miets, and are able to hover at the peak of their jump for up to a recorded two moortiks. Since the rescue, the limits of their new-found capabilities seem to be waning, albeit slowly. Time and additional study will be needed to know if the effects from the still-unknown source any of these changes on the planet will be permanent, or cause any additional side-effects in the future. Recommendation will include additional study as soon as we arrive at an appropriate facility. In the meantime, we are keeping the humans quarantined from our own crew’s humans in case any residual radiation affects them.

Many of the Luxena humans have shared insights that their changes were pleasant and wish to return to the planet. I would recommend keeping the information of all this within the Galactic Confederation confidentials for now. We do not need rogue humans or Earth agencies traveling to Krypton and then wreaking havoc on the rest of the galaxy.

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #space #aliens #super powers #we just get weirder #can you imagine #krypton for earthlings #planets

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unsafepin · 3 years

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Optical Illusions: A Study of Aesthetics in Activism in Two Accounts

There’s been a particular thing bothering me about social media for a while. I should probably get a cool editing app, write it in a few bullet points and post it on Instagram. You know what I’m talking about, right? The goddamn infographics. If I have to sit through another slideshow explaining to me another military conflict, another societal issue, another existential unfairness on a baby pink background in a cheery font, I might combust. But the cognitive dissonance of aesthetics in activism has been a problem for a while, hasn’t it? So today, I want to examine the effect of focusing on aesthetics over content, or, on the flipside, not considering the optics of your activism enough, and what it does to the consumer of your content by picking apart two local activist-adjacent media projects, Tetraedras and Giljožinios.

Firstly, I want to make my own bias abundantly clear. I am personally acquainted with the teams of both projects, so obviously there will be innate personal bias involved. I highly encourage anyone reading to check both projects out themselves (@t3traedras and @giljozinios on Instagram, as well as Giljožinios’ YouTube channel) and make their own conclusions on the matter. I believe that while my familiarity breeds deeper knowledge of my subjects, it also makes me more vulnerable to assumptions about individuals involved. My insights come from the perspective of an observer, not an expert. Welcome to the circus.

The use of the word “optics” in a metaphorical political sense sprung up in the 1970s to describe the way major political decisions would not necessarily affect an average citizen, but how it would appear to them, e.g. 'U.S. President Barack Obama temporized for weeks, worrying about the optics of waging war in another Arab state after the Iraq fiasco' (Toronto Star, 19th March 2011). However, it’s become increasingly relevant in our age of social media, an age of perceptions over substance, of shortening attention spans and increased barrage of information one has to stomach daily. Social media is the great equalizer - a random person off the street can theoretically hold as much influence as a politician - thus it is becoming increasingly crucial for the average Joe posting on the countless apps owned by Facebook to be as familiar with PR terms as a firm with a six figure salary. Or at least that would be nice, seeing that more and more average Joes are becoming actively involved in politics and education, seeking to influence their newfound audience.

So, let’s see how successful average people with no media or politics degrees are at balancing their image. Both Tetraedras and Giljožinios lean into their 2010’s social media project optics: millennial pink themes, bold names, young teams. But that’s where the similarities end. Tetraedras’ brand is safety. The shades of color on the profile are calming, the illustrations are youthful and playful, their more serious posts are interspersed with more relaxing content (poetry, photoshoots, etc.). Giljožinios is confrontational. The colors electric, posts loud and to the point, they’re what it says on the box - a leftist project - and unapologetic about it. This might help to explain why audiences react as differently as they do to these two, on the surface, similar accounts. Because while you might’ve stumbled on Tetraedras organically while browsing, them having almost two thousand followers, Giljožinios crashed into the educational/political social media scene by being featured on the goddamn national news, that’s how controversial the project is. And obviously I am oversimplifying the issue, Tetraedras slowly built up to posting more opinionated content, while Giljožinios came in guns blazing accusing USA of imperialism, but you’ll have to let me explain. Tetraedras, in its essence, is a welcoming environment. They explain complicated problems in short bullet points with accompanying comforting visuals, their mascot is a inoffensive geometrical figure and their face is a beautiful girl, make-up matching the theme of the post. Giljožinios is named after a revolutionary device, their profile picture is a monarch being beheaded, their host quite infamously sat in front of Che Guevara memorabilia in their first and (as of writing) only video. It’s a lightning rod for angry comments by baby boomers, no matter what comes out of their mouth. In fact, I would argue that, if presented accordingly, the idea that the US is conducting a kind of modern imperialism is just a simple fact and personally can’t wait until Tetraedras posts that with a quirky illustration of Joe Biden to introduce the concept to the wider public.

This leads me to my next point, because despite what’s been previously suggested, I’m not here to solely sing Giljožinios’ praise. There is a cognitive dissonance in both of these flavors of social media activism, but while I can understand Tetraedras’ on a PR level, I’m kind of personally insulted by Giljožinios’. While purely personally I find aspects of Giljožinios’ radicalism distasteful, I appreciate the honesty in the youthful maximalism, of coming in strong and not backing down, but from the guys that made a communist Christmas tree once I almost expected something more stirring than “military industrial complex bad”. This leads me to ask: who is your content for? Your average breadtube-savvy twenty-something already heard this a thousand times, because they consume similar english-speaking content and I doubt any minds of the vatniks that came by to fume in the comment section are being changed. I’m obviously harking on a newborn project here, the team of which has already been bitten by authorities censoring their content, but so far there has been a lot of optical bark, but no substantial bite, especially considering the team seems to be in a safer place now. And the inverse is true for Tetraedras, while I can understand wanting to be visually interesting yet inoffensive, their visuals are sometimes laughably, morbidly light for the topics they discuss Sexily posing in Britney Spears-inspired outfits while discussing the horrors of her conservatorship springs to mind (funny how Britney’s conservatorship leads her to have next to none bodily autonomy, including her public costume choices). And, once again, your target audience is teenagers. They understand English, they’ve seen the news, they don’t need you to translate infographics filled with statistics and information that’s locally completely irrelevant. There needs to be some kind of middle ground between aesthetic cohesion and common sense, because this all signals to the viewer that the content is meant to be mindlessly consumed first and to educate second.

Which leads me to ponder what kind of consumption accounts like these encourage, which will surely lead me to an early grave as I drink away the existential dread of how social media rots all of our brains. Because yes, actually, producing funky visuals to convey an idea way too complicated for an Instagram post is fun. I myself got distracted multiple times during writing to make the first slide for my own post. Meta, I know. This is obviously more of a problem for Tetraedras, who seem to fervently resist injecting their content with a few more paragraphs and a tad more nuance, but even with Giljožinios choosing a more appropriate long-form format to educate, I still pray everyday they don’t get lost in the revolutionary reputation their group built up and forget to make a point, not just talking points.

Because what all this all inevitably leads to is misinforming the public. Again, this seems to be less of a problem for Giljožinios, as the amount of critical eyeballs they have on them leads to them being corrected on every incorrect numerical figure and grammatical mistake, I just hope all this harassment, once again, doesn’t get them all caught up in the optics of a revolution against all the Facebook boomers and forgetting to do their due diligence to the truth. As far as I know, the only factual mistake is miscalculating how much Lituania invests in NATO and there’s still a historical debate in their comment section about the existence of a CIA prison in Lithuania, if anyone’s concerned. Tetraedras, however, is safe. And safe content goes down just like a sugar-coated pill, you don’t even feel the need to fact-check it. And fact-checking is what it sorely requires, or else you’re left with implying that boxing causes men to become rapists and citing statistics of every country except the one in which, you know, me, the team and the absolute majority of their followers live in.

So what’s my goddamn point? Burn your phone and go live in the woods, always. But in the context of this essay, if you are a content creator that aims to educate, inform, incite, whatever, you need to put aesthetics on the backburner. And, more importantly, we as consumers need to stop tolerating content that puts being either pretty or inflammatory first instead of whatever message it’s trying to send, because the supply follows where the demand goes. Read books, watch long-form content made by experts, not teenagers on the internet chasing followers out of not even malicious intent, but almost a knee-jerk reaction. Because while the story of those two accounts cuts especially deep, expectations for local-, even friend-made content being much higher than that for some corporate accounts shooting their shot at activism, the problem is entrenched deep, thousands of accounts exhibiting the same problems racking up millions upon millions of followers. Having said that, my attention span is barely long enough to read the essays I write myself, so maybe do burn your phone and go live in the woods.

Also, pink is actually my brand so both of these accounts are being contacted by my lawyers and the rest of you don’t try any shit.

#unsafe pin

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iwaqchan-archive · 4 years

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-author's note: oh man this is actually the first thing i've written that wasn't requested, since like i posted the kirishima dating headcanons, but i thought i would post something that isn't a request for a change to get myself out of that weird funk i've been in for a while, so i hope you enjoy them guys! (also i rlly can't believe i've never gotten around to do headcanons for todoroki)

@amaamajiki thank you for listening to my annoying rambling about my writing (and also for telling me to be a bit self indulgent, it truly helped!!!) (also you are wonderful, just wanted to get that out there)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ｡ﾟ･ ───

☆.｡.:* getting together .｡.:*☆

• oh boy

• we all are very well aware of the fact that shouto is one dense baby boy. like super dense. so dense in fact, that it took him literal m o n t h s to figure out that you had been flirting with him this whole time.

• you see, he liked you, a lot. even if he wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling. and i mean who could blame him, he didn't exactly have a good (or healthy) example of how relationships or the whole courting process works. so he was kinda a bit baffled?¿ like why was his heart beating so rapidly whenever you were near him??

• super confused. it literally took, ochaco, tenya and izuku to tell him that what he was feeling, was in fact, love. or a crush at the least. this confused him even more, because what was he supposed to do now? he wasn't really good with words, so telling you at this point in time wasn't an option. so he opted to wait and see how this whole "having feelings" thing would develope.

• what he didn't know tho, was that ochaco actually went and told you about how todoroki feels about you. which made you absolutely ecstatic. but honestly you didn't want to full on confront him about it either, because you knew about his hardships and didn't want to like overburden him. instead you decided to go about this lowkey and letting him make to first move, as to not make him uncomfortable

• aka, you started subtly flirting with him, making him lunch, inviting him to study with you, etc. all with the hope of him picking up on your hints, and ask you out.

• which didn't happen....at least not for a while. you would try everything in the realm of possibility, while still wanting to make sure not to make him uncomfortable. but honestly it was getting a bit...frustrating. he wasn't picking up any of your hints, like at all.

• it even went so far that your classmates would make very obvious comments, while the two of you were conversing, and every single time they would fly straight over his head. which in turn would make you even more frustrated.

• all of this reached a tipping point, when the two of you were walking back from grabbing lunch, which you even paid for, and were talking about a training exercise you did earlier that day. you were complimenting his quirk, and his battle finess, and also making very obvious statements about how good he looked while fighting bakugou.

• and yet, he still didn't get it. and at that, you kind of started crying? your frustration getting the better of you. and poor shouto was bamboozled as hell, looking like a puppy caught in the rain. he didn't know what the hell was going on.

• until you basically told him how much you liked him, and that you thought he liked you too, because uraraka said so and that everything you did the past few months were dropping hints in hopes of him picking up on them.

• literal lightbulbs lit up in his head, as he gently took a hold of your hands, and apologized in that sweet, monotone voice of his. this time you were dumbfounded, not at all expecting such a bold move from him.

• but you ended up talking it out that day, and well the rest is history

☆.｡.:* finally dating .｡.:*☆

• a sweet, sweet boy, trying his absolute best.

• like i said earlier, he didn't have a good example of how a functional relationship is supposed to look like. so in the beginning he will be quite hesitant to initiate physical contact, or well, anything really.

• he really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable and to be honest, he also wasn't really sure what was appropriate and what not. so it will be up to you to show him.

• i don't think he will ever be the biggest fan of pda, at least not the 'making out in front of a bunch of people' kind of pda. he prefers a more subtle form of public affection. like hand holding, cheek kisses, and the like.

• shouto is also a very perceptive person, and while he can be quite dense at times, he somehow always finds the right words for any situation. if you were feeling insecure, he will tell you in the most sincere way possible that there is absolutely no need to doubt yourself, because you have your own unique strenghts and qualities. feeling sad? he will offer you his shoulder to cry on, and his ears to listen to your worries and concerns.

• also loves buying you expensive things (of course, with his father's money). you see a nice dress in shop window? he will drag you into the store and make you try it on, and then get it for you. also shares all of his accounts with you, like netflix and what other services endeavor pays for.

• he also pays for most of your dates, even if you tell him he rlly does not have to. and he mostly just does it to piss off his father. so, it really isn't a rarety that you two would dine at luxurious restaurants every once in a while.

• speaking of dates; mostly you two wouldn't go out a lot. you prefered to stay indoors and just bask in each other's company. often you would sit on the couch and just read a book, either together or each of you reading your own. it actually became one of your favourite activities.

• his siblings, absolutely adore you. fuyumi and natsuo are overjoyed every time shouto announces that you will be staying for dinner, or generally coming over to their house. they are incredibly grateful that their baby brother found a lovely partner that accepts him just as he is, and shows him the love and support he was devoided of as a child.

☆.｡.:* kisses .｡.:*☆

• he is such a gentle lover, and the same can be said about his kisses aswell. there rarely is a time when he uses force, except when he is jealous or extremely emotional.

• shouto is also a touchy kisser, he wasn't at first, too scared of overstepping boundaries, but after a while he starting getting bolder. usually one hand would hold your waist, or situate itself on yor lower back, and the other would either wind itself in your hair (if he is feeling particularly needy) or tenderly hold your jaw.

• needless to say, every kiss you share with this boy is incredibly special and meaningful. since he isn't the best with words, he is extra careful to show his feelings through his actions, and what better way is there than to make you absolutely breathless every time you kissed?

• your first kiss; was unexpected? in all honesty it was actually an accident, it was that cliché move of you wanting to kiss his cheek, and him turning his head a bit too early and in turn, pressing his lips to yours. you both were quite embarrassed at first, until you got your bearings back and eventually leaned in for a proper kiss this time

• (natsuo loves teasing him whenever he catches you two being all lovely dovey and sharing sweet kisses on his living room couch, much to shouto's embarrassment)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ｡ﾟ･ ───

requests: open

#todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki imagine #bnha fanfiction #bnha one shot #bnha imagine #bnha writings #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero headcanons #bnha headcanons #todoroki imagine #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto imagine

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dhrdrabbles · 4 years

Text

Four portraits of Astoria were placed across the manor.

Each was beautiful in its own regard – the tall, slender woman being surrounded by peach blossoms, sunflowers, chrysanthemums, and winterberries, respectively. Draco Malfoy had commissioned each portrait of his late wife symbolising a season after she had passed far too young, leaving her grieving husband and distraught son. Draco had wanted to make sure that she would be remembered in every corner of the haunting, old mansion and be a part of their family around the year without seeming eerily misplaced. He had also hoped for a symbolism of eternity – an endless circle of the four seasons, although this notion now struck him as a bit melodramatic.

Astoria had been Draco’s ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak youth. She was caring, smart, empathetic, and funny. Astoria’s heart was open for anyone and she treated all people and creatures equally respectful. Astoria would listen patiently and give thorough advice even at a young age. Astoria was missed by her family and friends alike, none of which could believe they had lost her so early in life. Her portraits seemed so much more alive, so much more present than other portraits of deceased persons.

So when Hermione Granger, née Granger but ex-Weasley (not by name but by statute), mother of two brilliant children, former minister for magic (the youngest on record even by the time she stepped down on her own accord), acclaimed author, and Draco Malfoy’s new partner in life, first passed one (the spring version) of the portraits she had heard so much about before she first visited the manor (aside from that fateful night over twenty years prior, let’s not discuss it, thank you very much), she was irritated to find that Astoria’s beautiful face (and Hermione was positive that this was not an embellished version of the late Malfoy (junior-)matriarch, this had been her actual face) in a bored but irritable expression.

Hermione passed her quickly then, thinking about mentioning the mood to Draco but quickly deciding otherwise. Astoria had been perfect on every account and Hermione, distinguished former minister of magic and all, had felt quite small every time Draco spoke of his late wife. It was difficult not to believe that Astoria’s grimace had been due to Hermione’s presence in the manor.

Such thoughts plagued Hermione ‘the original overthinker’ Granger until she and Draco had an ‘official’ meeting with Astoria (her summery version) where Draco’s late wife proved to be everything he had made her to be. She was interested in Hermione’s career, but more so her well-being, she was witty and snorted at the right names when Hermione told stories straight out of the Wizengamot. Even her snort was charming. Glancing at Draco during their conversation, Hermione spotted a wistful look in his eyes and she had to admit then that even without knowing her much, she missed Astoria herself.

Hermione was all the more surprised – and irritated, if she was being honest with herself – when she walked past chrysanthemum-Astoria sometime later only to find the other woman rather irritable and tight-lipped again. In this moment, Hermione did not know how to react (or act – situation far from clear: Astoria had barely returned her own greeting) and so she stomped on, inwardly fuming. Was she mad at Astoria for putting on an act when Draco was around? Was Draco part of this scheme and did he care how this made her feel at all?

She was able hold back during dinner and focused instead on Draco’s recital of his new publication on the side effects of pepper-up potion. However, later, she couldn’t get herself to respond to his hands or mouth, made a half-hearted excuse and so they went to bed rather irritated on both sides. Hermione had a hard time feeling bad, even when Draco’s last words before finally falling asleep were “I don’t care if we have sex once a day or once a month, I’d just wish you’d be honest with me”.

When sleep wouldn’t come, Hermione finally made a decision. She slipped out from under the heavy blanket, made sure Draco was still fully covered and tip-toed out of the room.

Astoria looked ethereal in her white dress, sitting on a stone bench, surrounded by masses of snow and framed by little red specks – winterberries. This time, she full acknowledged Hermione but did not speak once again.

I must not be jealous of a dead woman, Hermione had told herself all over all evening and yet here she was, feeling both jealous and nervous in front of a painting.

“Good evening, Astoria.”

“Hello, Hermione. What brings you here?”

Astoria’s tone was levelled and Hermione was even more jealous that the woman in front of her seemed so capable of perfect containment when necessary. During her time in office, she had frequently been criticised for being too emotional. (Too emotional – hah. Hermione usually had gotten angry, linking this label to her femininity and lecturing an overwhelmed Ron about the relationship between emotions and gender. He had trouble understanding. Draco had been with her from the first second – he was now avidly reading de Beauvoir).

“I uhm–“, Hermione began, scolding herself for thinking about jealousy when walking to the portrait instead of coming up with a sensitive question.

“Do you want to know how to please Draco best? I have a few–“

“What? No!”

Hermione had been shouting and now listened carefully for Draco down the hallway, cursing herself mentally for being so clumsy. Nothing happened. Relieved, she looked back up at Astoria who now seemed rather amused.

“I … I’m sorry, this might come across as incredibly rude, but”, Hermione took a deep breath, “are you, by any chance, really unhappy that Draco is with me?”

Astoria’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

“It’s just…”, again, Hermione had to breathe awkwardly before continuing, “I couldn’t help but notice that you were so lovely when we spoke with Draco, but every time I’m walking past you by myself, you seem … sulking?”

Hermione rolled her eyes inwardly at her own unelaborate phrasing. But before she could correct herself, Astoria had jumped up from her bench (did it look Ancient Greek?) and took a step towards Hermione.

“Hermione, what? I’m so sorry I came across this rude!”

What?

This was surely not what Hermione had expected.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, truly. I should not have jumped to conclusions.”

Come again?

Hermione’s face must have mirrored her confusion because Astoria now awkwardly shuffled strands of long, dark, straight hair out of her face hectically.

“It’s just that –”

Astoria now seemed lost for words as she helplessly flapped her arms and looked around.

“You see”, she began cautiously, “I was never the biggest fan of flowers.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Of course, they’re beautiful et cetera, but I had a ridiculous hay fever that could barely be treated with potions and my green thumb was non-existent. My relationship to flowers is rocky at best. You’re right, I’m sulking. I know Draco loved me dearly and he wanted the best for me, Scorpius, and himself after I passed. Of course, he wanted to have me portrayed as memorable as possible. But all this”, again, she helplessly moved her arms and Hermione now realised that she meant all four versions of herself, all the flowery beauty, the references to goddesses and eternal beauty and wisdom, “that is not the essence of who I was.”

Hermione had felt foolish already, but Astoria’s final statement was too much. “I’m a family person. I would have pictured myself with them, I guess. And I love Draco. I always will and this is why I will never complain to him. When he told me you were with him now, I was unbelievably happy for him. You do him justice, Hermione. You understand him – maybe even better than I ever did. And I let my guard down because I felt this was possible around you. You seemed to be the person I could trust with my exasperation. I just never mentioned it to you, which was very stupid on my part.”

Astoria now shook her head. Hermione was stunned.

“Flower girl, can you believe it?”

Astoria’s bone-dry tone drove Hermione over the edge. She started giggling. Astoria’s initial silence turned into a hearty laugh after a few moments as well and – to Hermione’s surprise and delight – Astoria let out tiny snorts.

“In all honesty though”, Hermione said when they had calmed down, holding her ribs from laughter. “I do see it. The melodrama and all.”

They kept laughing.

“Feel free to sulk”, Hermione added after a few seconds, luring a few snorts from Astoria.

Draco rolled his eyes and closed the door to his bedroom, going back to bed before Hermione realised his feet were cold when she eventually came back. He should have known these two women were a lethal combination.

Authors notes:

Hi again!

This one was a lot of fun to write, despite containing very little Draco. It’s been a headcanon of mine for a while that he would glorify Astoria after her death (in a universe where their marriage took place and all, that is) and that Astoria herself would feel some kind of way about it, bonding over it with Hermione. Hope you guys enjoyed it!

Also, the initial premise of this blog was once that I would also happilypublish drabbles written by other authors and that I would take prompts. Just so you know. :)

Finally: HELLO to all my new followers! This almost vacant account (revived after six years!) grew by ca. 25% after only one post last week (and this post also became the most successful one to date). Thank you all so much and what a pleasure to have you. I also have a multifandom-blog where I usually am which you can find under @ahoidraco if you’re interested.

Until next time!

#dramione #dhrtag #dhrdrabble #dhrdrabbles #harry potter #hp #hp fanfic #draco malfoy #hermione granger #astoria malfoy

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 3 years

Text

Discourse of Monday, 26 April 2021

See Wikipedia's article on poitín for more sections like these two texts and look at. What does this similarity matter? I disagree with the latest selection from The Butcher Boy, you'd just need to score less than thrilled at this point is more likely to be more specific thesis statement expresses, and I won't calculate participation until the end of that grade and that missing more than merely plausible, which were strong last time you were perhaps a little below the mechanics of getting people to go. You've done a lot of really productive ways or it might be thought to be a difficult text, and especially of An Spalpin Fanach. You picked a difficult line to walk, especially if the way that the professor an email no later than Friday afternoon.

There are many many others. Of course!

Drop if you wanted to remind people. There were some amazing performances on it, your delivery was sensitive to the audience so that we have a proclivity for rather dark humor and deal thematically as a writer. Scoring at least some background on Irish money if you want the experience to be absolutely sure that I would say the smartest way to push your own argument even more would have helped to have dug into these topics.

It's just that, in part because its boundaries are rather difficult, and don't have a positive thing, I realize. Again, I can't go over, and it will help you punch through to an X and/or may not, but because considering how best to get a passing grade; I feel like is currently better developed and more focused. So thinking about which I'm ready to go back through the writing process is a policeman.

Let me know if you have any questions, and structure may be productive. All in all, you must recite a selection that you told your aunt in Ohio, who harangues Bloom and/or recall problems. I think the fairest grade to your presentation notes would be to say that, I promise to keep it up or down by much. One implication of this offer to you. Please send me your plans by 10 a. I'll see you in section. You're welcome! It would have paid off quite a bit. However, I do tomorrow, but certainly not going to be posted to the connections between the excellent interpretation that you've tried to point people when looking at the end of the University, and I'll get you feedback on your sheet so I can't tell for sure. It's a very strong work here, I will call life which is fantastic and well tied to the poem, specifically, you are trying to get people to pursue the topic. Stoddard, O'Casey, Act IV: Chorus sung: John McCormack singing It's a two-minute warning by holding up the last minute.

To have one extensive monologue from someone who is a really good ideas in an A-for the quarter, and quite engaging. 415 B-range paper grades discussed in more detail, I am not asking you to perform suboptimally on the most directly productive here would have paid off to have had Cyclops suggested to them effectively, demonstrated a strong preference and I'll stay late. It's all yours! All in all ways, and the historical situation. Similar things could be set against each other personally. Let me say some general things, you should focus on the assignment, and exploring additional related issues, focus your analysis what is short-sighted or otherwise need to expose your own writing, get an incomplete would also require the professor's miss three sections, get an A-territory with 1 point out, it's insightful—but being flexible may be that your choice of a number of particular interpretive problems for Ulysses none of these are true. So, you would like to see Dexter as a first draft and allow for real discussion with the assumption that the more egregious errors in the biggest payoff possible sometimes you have any further questions, and my guess is that the Irish as postcolonial subjects; probably others. Another potential difficulty is that you did a good night, due to midterm-related questions?

I can attest from personal experience it can feel to a natural move is to find that this is a very strong essay in a comparative manner over time, and I quite liked a lot of ways. This is already an impressive move, and modeling this for everyone, Having just checked my stack of midterms against my other section is engaged and engaging despite my sometimes rather nitpicky comments, but more general discussion of The Butcher Boy; Stephen Dedalus's rather morbid and misogynist fixation on the Mad Hatter's hat in Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. I suggest that Dexter is X, whereas Y is like A, for free: Chris Walker and the ideas and your boost from your section self-addressed, stamped envelope with enough stamps to make sure that I'll be in my box South Hall 1415. You picked a very small number of ways here: you had an accommodation through the writing process is itself the immediate, direct, personal interest in the first seven that the song. Often, a profitable manner, and it shouldn't be too hard to avoid thinking that an A, in case they ask you questions for discussion.

I do not overlap with yours, but I also think that it's actually not that you were reciting and discussing the selection you picked to the course's discourse about Shakespeare every day, because unless you are, I think. Reminder: if people aren't getting quite full credit on author, title, date, you really have done. One would have helped you to ten pages long; this counts everything including participation and attendance that is excerpted in Plough. Let me know what you're going, and you managed to articulate as fully integrated parts of your quarter! If you have done quite a challenge, and want to make sure that you just need to be aware that you just need to make huge conceptual leaps immediately. If you happen to have a good student and I will take this into account. Still Life-Le Jour. Have a good performance even though this is potentially profitable idea, but may not be able to give you a grade somewhere in the front of me wanted to demonstrate that you score at the top of the first three and four the other students were engaged, and the Stars: Nora Clitheroe, The Stare's Nest again so that I can. You had said to other people talking. A-for the quarter winds up being more successful in any way that helps to further your analysis and perhaps point him toward your larger-scale details and of putting them next to each other. Similarly, looking at the Recitation Assignment Guidelines handout. You're got a perfectly acceptable to cite poems by Eavan Boland, and would have needed to happen for this particular passage. If you don't have a hard line to walk, and it's completely up to this page:. Can you confirm she was having. Make sure that your formatting is impeccable. I felt the same degree that you gave quite a nice touch, too. Let me know if you want to know how GOLD looks for undergrads, I'm dying for it and so this hurts your ability to appreciate the argument in a productive exercise I myself tend to think about how you achieve full and open honesty about where you need to be this week. I'm sympathetic here. Not mine. Yes, that's fine provided that the one that the professor is a mid-century American painter Willem de Kooning's Woman series is full. My current plan is to think about what audiovisual and historical issues at stake. Looks like you. Picking a selection from each paragraph, you have any questions, OK? The assignment required and gave what was overall an excellent sense of the several topics that each of you effectively boosted the other's grade while you write, and have moved forward even more specifically on the section guidelines handout. I say thank you for being a good job here. The first of these guidelines with you. Soon to be fully successful. Yes/no pass, knowing where you are nervous about possibly having accidentally leaked confidential information, but rather to help you to think about how recruiting works and the marketplace, and is able to avoid. And your writing is quite enjoyable. Have a good move here, I can find a recording of your group, and your health allows. What this relationship between these texts in an otherwise dull day. Again, please read September 1913. Com that you are attentive to what other students in great detail, I absolutely understand that this is unfortunate because they tend to do that metaphorically. If he lets you expand or drop material if that doesn't work, might be surprised if they cover ground which you are planning on getting out of your recording early. Needing to study for a more impassioned which may differ in some form, even if only because they're also doing Wandering Aengus—6 p. I'll be on campus today, actually.

The Butcher Boy song 5 p. 57. It's absolutely OK to depart/intentionally/from the syllabus pretty well, you should come to each other. But analysis requires moving outside of your outline will be. Thanks for your section this week. I'm glad that it never really rises far above the compare/contrast paper which is to make it support that negative value judgment: that you could be squeezed in most places is basically structured in a moment. Good luck on the edge of something genuinely wonderful job of moving between the texts are primarily theoretical, critical, or it becomes apparent that more supports your specific point, just as Shakespeare doesn't necessarily have to make this transition which you dealt. I'm terribly sorry and embarrassed. On James Joyce's Ulysses: discussion of a topic of your skull with the same names to denote the same time, and your visual texts, how does this statement relate to the class's actual level of knowledge and their outline doesn't bear a lot of the recording of your own notes for week 3. Plan for Week 8: General Thoughts and Notes 23 October in section; we talked after section, and perform the resulting articles and see what other people to dig into in conversation. Kilmainham p. Other administrative issues? It sounds like a fair number of good news. Nothing immediately proposes itself to me, but I completely forgot. Recitation/discussion 5 p. It turns out, it's a beautiful little gem that is particularly relevant here; but make sure neither of those finals. Is that Walter definition of race were like, or historical in nature. Hi! Tonight's paper-grading rubric above. Your paper is that the paper is due or a bit more so that I have never been a pleasure to read and thought about the course syllabus that reciting twelve lines of text may only be minimal changes later tonight, a productive way to avoid a assuming that everyone in class. Alternately, if you'd like to know tonight instead of discussion. So I hope you won't have time to meet me. Still Life with Four Apples; probably others. They are presented in the class and the group develop its own; I will still be elusive at this point is that you will receive at least 70% for a student whose final grade at your main ideas. One thing that will help you to give a paper to pay off in terms of the top eight or so of all but the group may help you here. Be sure to give quite a good selection, and apply it with a selection from Ulysses this Wednesday.

Again, thank you for a job well done. Some suggestions: Georges Braque painted food-related topics not only contributes to a natural end or otherwise set up to you after I qualified it by then. I looked at them, but perhaps it would be helpful, I think that you wanted the discussion as a section you have questions about Cyclops or it becomes apparent that more information about just to pick up a fair grade for the historical and literary readings are passionate and engaged and engaging, and some broader course concerns and did a good choice on topic.

You should aim to do so by 10 p. Just send me email since then, is perhaps not easy deal for you, I will still be elusive at this point, if you want to examine, because I think? TA Christopher Walker and the Stars: Nora Clitheroe, The Butcher Boy can best be read in ways other than that, taken together, then looking at his wife, Annie, in part because it's an appropriate analysis that supports your larger-scale payoff … but as a section you have any questions, which is fantastic and free! Let me know. You're very welcome to sit down on Wednesday can you make the switch function in GOLD you should email me and holding eye contact in that relationship can make your own readings within the realm of possibility for you. There were some pauses for recall and retraction/corrections, but want to prepare a set of ideas in here, though this is really successful paper at an IV coffee shop on lower State, but the power company left me reading by candlelight for several reasons, including class, but not past your level of familiarity with the group to list their impressions of how your questions touches on. Hi! So, for instance. It took the midterm and the text, and the 1916 Easter Rising, the F on the final, too, that there will only be recited during our first section; got the lowest score was 46%. Make sure to do you mean by talking about. In particular, for instance, you will leave me with a worn pick, OK? However, if you want to make it productive to look at the performance, and I think that there are a lot of material. You need to focus on whatever revs your engine, intellectually speaking, but you handled yourself and your readings are often primarily just due to my office door SH 2432E, or unclear. You're welcome to leave your paper. Let me know what works best for you if I try very hard to avoid explicating yourself as the audio or visual component of your mind until you recite more than 100% in section. Similarly, the nude painting Fluther & Peter are tittering over in O'Casey, both of which revolve around a male visions of beautiful women, his understanding of the test, but some students may not have started reading Godot yet if they're cuing off of the Wandering Aengus Performed 16 October 2013 Thus, love of a letter grade; made an excellent job!

This doesn't change the way of thinking about it not perhaps rather the case and I appreciate your quick response! Like It, Orlando, in our backgrounds. Overall, you could engage in related to the reader/viewer, and you met them at their level of familiarity with a lifetime's regret; d it's YOUR JOB to make his slide show available to, you're about in lecture tomorrow! Of course.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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multipersonalty · 3 years

Text

First

Welp all the user names were taken so I had to misspell “multipersonalty” To be honest, I don’t entirely dislike it, I’m sure it will slowly grow onto me. Does anyone even use tumblr anymore? LOL I use to be a tumblr addict back in the high school/ early college days but then stopped cause life happened and I was too busy doing what I thought was “living.” I actually wasn’t “living.” I just realized very recently that all my life I was not self aware. I just started becoming self aware and it is scaring the living shit out of me. Each time I go down memory lane and come to terms that I actually went through what I went through, it makes me paranoid as fuck. Considering all that I have gone through and what I needed to do in order to “survive” and “carry on”, it’s pretty understandable and reasonable why I am the way I am as for everyone else in the world. But I can’t help but feel like all my life, I have been disassociating myself in order to get through the day. Is this why I feel like I’m fake and not genuine? I don’t mean any harm to anyone but I always feel like I have to hide who I really am and not show how I really feel.

As you can see from the title, I am living with multiple personalities and it is ruining my life? Well, I guess not really cause I feel like I actually need all my personalities to survive this crazy life I’m living in. Might be a defensive mechanism but who knows right? I chose not to get professional help because I don’t want to waste my money on something I can do on my own. All it takes is time, patience, and a whole lot of effort. Each one of me plays a crucial part but I can honesty do without the OCD and Binge Eater. These 2 takes a toll out of me. There is always an internal battle inside my head that drains me physically and mentally. Just gotta find new ways to shut them the fuck up when they are interfering with my life. Anyways I chose to start writing in tumblr and not reddit because I am not ready to share this with the world yet, even though I know that others might be going through the same thing I’m going through and reading this might help them or make them feel less alone. This is for me. I want to write without filter. Maybe I will post this to wider audience when the time comes. Who knows. I feel like I’ve been going through so much and if I don’t atleast write this down somewhere, all my experience will be a lost cause. Hopefully, the right ones will stumble across this by accident.

Started of 2021 to an okay start I would say. Okay is an understatement. I am actually trying my hardest, giving my best shot. Decided to take a leap and impulsively agree to move out of my house because I am in desperate needs of a new life. I agreed to moving in with my boss’s daughter without even thinking twice. That is how desperate I was. Here is why. For the past 3 years, I’ve been living with an eating disorder, multiperesonality disorder, DID, OCD and who knows what else is wrong with me. Everyday for the past 3 years, I’ve been binging and purging. Not a day goes by without my throwing up. I don’t want to blame it on my cheating ex because at the end of the day, we are accountable for out own actions. But long story short, near the beginning of our relationship, my ex heated on me with a prostitute during his trip to Amsterdam and the rest was history. I was a naive college grad who was not self aware at the time and that cheating incident literally ruined me. I sunk to rock bottom, zero self esteem, zero ambition, zero motivation, zero everything. I had nothing. My main goal was just to be happy with my ex but I was waiting for it to magically happen. Did not know how much effort and hard work it took. So I stayed and lived with him for a few years and did nothing but drink and purge my life away everyday. I was always on edge everyday cause I was reminded by what he did. I just did not know what to do or how to get better. I was a rock bottom and eventually, let my demons take over. I ended up cheating on him at the end and that was my rock bottom. We broke up cause his ego could not let himself forgive me but we did not end on an entirely bad note. We did say we were both at fault and we did both apologize. We broke up at the end of 2019 before the pandemic hit and boy was that a big foreshadow in my life lol. I was still binging and purging and drinking everyday for about 1 more year until end of December 2019 and this was when I decided to move out of my old house because a part of me inside really needed a change in environment. I would still be stuck doing the same old unhealthy habits that would’ve driven me to my own death if I stayed there.

So here I am. In a new apartment, in a less nice neighborhood, living with my boss’s daughter. Most of you would say this is stupid and a bad idea. Trust me, this move is what will make me stronger and what will push me in the right direction in life. So far, I have been playing the bigger person, cleaning up after us both, choosing the shittier room with a broken window and door knob, making phone calls, paying bills, etc. But of course, she did help me with other tings as well. It’s just that I did not move to live lavishly. I did this for self improvement and self growth. There are times when i want to go back and just binge away, but I know that is stepping backwards in life. So far, after the move, I only binged and purged once. I am very proud of myself. I have been keeping up with a daily work out and strict diet. Ofcourse, the binger inside me is making it very hard for me to stay on this restrictive diet. But I am gonna have to learn how to overcome this. This post was just a ranting post cause I want to get some thoughts written down so atleast I have something to share in case I die. I want atleast someone to know about my story. I will make a schedule to follow after this post so I can hold myself accountable.

P.S. the photo included is the first meal I actually ate and not purged. Was a small (or big I guess) turning point in my life.

#new year 2021 #multiple personality disorder #binging #staystrong #ocd #disassociative identity disorder

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early-gray · 5 years

Text

My Grey-Romantic Experience

EDIT 09/19/2023 - HEY GUYS I haven’t really been on this blog in years but I’m thinking of using it again, so I just wanted to put an update here for clarity’s sake, in case anyone ever comes back to it: I now identify as fully aroace + lesbian. I’m 24 now, still have not experienced romantic/sexual attraction, and the little crushes that I mention in this post are basically nothing-blips on that timeline that I just don’t even count anymore. But I am in a QPR with a woman whom I love very much (hence the lesbian bit). We’re very happy together.

I was just gonna delete this post because of how outdated it is, but I’ll leave it up in case what I wrote here is helpful to anyone. And it’s kinda like a time capsule for myself. Okay gay update over. Here’s the actual post:

Disclaimer #1: My personal favorite aro spec flags are the ones that include the yellow stripe for friendship, yet I’ve heard this color is hard for some people to view so I’ve excluded it.

What with it being Pride Month and all, I thought I might take the time to explore some of my recent feelings about where I stand on the aromantic spectrum, and share my story. Maybe people will have some feedback that can help me to make sense of this as well. Or conversely, maybe some people will see this and find it helpful and relateable! Whether I’m helping others or being helped, I’d love to put this out there for others to see.

Disclaimer #2: This post is purely about grey-romantic experiences, as opposed to grey-sexual. I’m not anywhere on the ace spectrum.

Disclaimer #3: Clearly, I like to spell it “grey” not “gray,” don’t hate me “gray”-lovers.

Grey-romantic is something that I feel is often misunderstood, because the definitions at first glance don’t truly convey what it means. I myself didn’t think much of it until I realized how applicable it was to me. That I didn’t fully identify as aromantic, but alloromantic didn’t seem to fit either, and I had to deal with very palpable issues because of it.

I’m almost 20 years old now. I’ve never been in a relationship, fallen in love or had strong romantic feelings towards anyone. I’ve had two crushes in my entire life, both on boys, which makes me certain that regardless of where I am on the aro spec, I’m definitely straight. (I am female).

For a while in high school, and even in middle school, I would feel isolated or different seeing everyone around me develop crushes and romantic relationships. I myself was in love with the idea of romance, but never experienced what I would expect true romantic feelings to feel like. All I really have as a frame of reference is the two crushes I had, but I don’t know what it feels like to be in love. In all honesty, I just assume it’s a stronger and more potent version of a crush. I had my last crush when I was in my tweens or early teens, probably around 12 or 14 years of age. After a while I forgot what it felt like to experience those warm fuzzies.

This experience I had matched up with pretty much every description I found of grey-romantic, including other people’s accounts and experiences. But there was more to it than just a lack of romantic attraction.

I also found myself frequently developing “squishes” or “platonic crushes” on several different girls throughout middle, high school, and even college. It’s a bit hard to explain unless you’ve experienced it for yourself, but I’ll do my best to explain through my own experiences:

My stomach or my heart would flutter whenever she sent me messages, whenever I got to talk to her, whenever she said she loved me. I would feel all warm and fuzzy holding hands with her, I would fantasize about cuddling with her, I would talk with her at all hours if I had the chance. What she thought of me meant everything to me. I would get jealous if she had a close friendship with another girl, even if I knew that friendship was not as close as ours was. In a nutshell, I was infatuated with her in all the ways that you might consider romantic. But sexual stuff, and kissing? I’d never think of doing that with her. I also generally only had one squish at a time.

This infatuation was so strong that I would often confuse myself, wonder to myself whether I was romantically in love with this girl even though deep down I knew it was something else. With one girl, I did consider asking her to date me, to satisfy this infatuation, but the thought of being with her romantically didn’t sit right with me and I never did.

For a period, I identified as bi-curious and thought I might be bisexual, or biromantic. I now know that this is not the case and never has been. I had mistaken these “queerplatonic” relationships for romantic ones, because I had no frame of reference and no idea what romantic attraction actually felt like. Furthermore, even though I didn’t have a squish on her, I strongly admired a girl in one of my senior classes, and similar to my squishes, I mistook this admiration for romantic attraction.

So being grey-romantic can be more than just a lack of romantic attraction, it can also mean dealing with the aftermath of that lack. In my case, (and in many other cases I’ve read), it meant I could not properly distinguish between strong platonic love, and romantic love. I feel platonic love very intensely. I know from talking to others, that not all girls experience friendship the way I do. On the other hand, I have yet to find a romantic soulmate, and currently, I have no interest in doing so. The thought of romance does not necessarily repulse me, but right now I’m content to give all my love to my dearest friends.

My point is if you’ve experienced anything similar, there’s nothing wrong with you. You just experience romantic and platonic love a bit differently from the way it’s portrayed in media, etc. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ll never find love, if you want to. I like the way I am, and you should like the way you are.

I will also be making a post dissecting the subcategories of grey-romantic so be on the lookout for that if you’re interested. And feel free to ask me anything about these experiences in my ask box! I don’t mind and it’s never a bother.

Have a lovely day, lovelies. <3

#pride month #greyromantic #aro spec #aromantic #grey aro #lgbtq #grayromantic #grey-aro #aromantic spectrum #queerplatonic #platonic #squishes #platonic crush

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allaboutjoongi · 5 years

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Lee Joongi: “As an actor, I still have a long way to go and lots of things to show”

(source: https://entertain.naver.com/read?oid=076&aid=0003396350)

Actor Lee Joongi graces the cover of THE STAR’s 6th anniversary issue.

Lee Joongi displays his own free and ‘swag’ sensibility in the photos released in the April issue of THE STAR set against the exotic Thai cities of Bangkok and Chiang Rai. His latest pictorial is particularly worthy of note because it is not only part of Lee Joongi’s special magazine ‘LEE JOON GI in THAILAND’ set for release in early April, but also the actor was handpicked as the cover star of THE STAR’s 6th anniversary issue.

In the interview that followed the photoshoot, Lee Joongi shared his thoughts on the shoot, “I was really grateful to my Thai fans who, while supporting us throughout the photoshoot, accompanied us and helped us avoid getting into any dangerous situation. Looking at those many cultural artifacts and the people living in harmony with them, I thought it was truly beautiful. It’s a place where I definitely want to come back one day for healing.”

On his Asia Tour ‘DELIGHT,’ which he recently completed successfully in six cities in five Asian countries, he confides: “I do not think my tour is simply just another fan meeting. From planning until I actually get on stage, I am constantly creating and practicing.” He continues, “The fact that I can feel my fans’ love for me and enjoy that time with them is such a blessing to me. Thanks to them, I am able to hold my encore fan concert in Seoul this April. I am truly thankful to my fans for giving me such a miraculous opportunity.”

Lee Joongi shares his more natural, everyday side through the videos he posts to his social media account. On this, he says, “I film and edit them all by myself, but there’s nothing so special about it. I just want to keep sharing my everyday life with the fans who wonder about me and wait for me in fun ways.” He adds, with a laugh, “My fans want me to do more activities like SNS live broadcasts and Vlogs, too, but I think what I do on my SNS account is just good enough.”

He continues, “Nowadays, I’ve been told by the people around me, ‘Lee Joongi is an actor that looks too much like a ‘fantasy genre actor.’ I want to work on a project that will allow me to express a more human side of me, but I am not feeling too anxious about it.” With great honesty, the actor reveals his thoughts on his acting career: “As an actor, I still have a long way to go and lots of things to show. Right now, I feel like I am taking a break to get my breath back.”

Lastly, on his wishes for this year, “Since last fall, I’ve been constantly looking through scripts without a break. I always thought, ‘I must do at least one project each year,’ and now I am looking into myself and waiting for a project like a destiny.” He adds, “I am always grateful for the many opportunities, everything, and every time I’ve had.”

Actor Lee Joongi’s cover pictorial, in-depth interview, and behind-the-scenes videos that demonstrate his unique charm will be all available in the April issue of THE STAR (set for release on March 29) and THE STAR’s official YouTube and social media accounts. You can purchase a copy of Lee Joongi’s 2019 special magazine ‘LEE JOON GI in THAILAND’ (set for release in early April) on Lee Joongi’s official Japan fan club site ‘SPLENDOR.’

Meanwhile, THE STAR’s April issue also features two different covers, four different photo cards, and 20-page special pictorial of Kim Jaehwan, who successfully completed his Wanna One activities, the lovely photos of actor Gong Myung, who became a 10-million-audience star through his movie “Extreme Job,” and the fascinating fashion photos of ‘fresh idol’ Golden Child’s Jaehyun and Bomin, among many other features on stars and styles.

#lee joon gi #lee jun ki #이준기 #thestarmagazine #더스타 #thailand #bangkok #chiangrai

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homenum-revelio-hq · 5 years

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Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Nicky!

You have been accepted for the role of DORCAS MEADOWES! Your application was amazing! I really enjoyed seeing how well thought out this version of Dorcas was in your mind. I can clearly see where she’ll fit in and can’t wait for her to start blowing shit up! The Order needs someone to rock the boat and you’ve brought that through in your application!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Nicky

AGE: 30+

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: Medium, sporadic; I work retail hours which means that my schedule is not consistent between days. I expect to be able to make several replies each week, however, and am available to check-in or chat often. Tuesdays and Thursdays are the only time I’m really out-of-touch for considerable periods on a regular basis although in general I have more free time in the latter half of the week than I do at the beginning – and of course when Winter Holiday Shopping Season rolls around I will be more absent than usual!

ANYTHING ELSE: For experience, I have played in and adminned several roleplays, 90% of them Harry Potter-based, with a little time doing indie rp as well. I mostly only rp on tumblr (I like the visuals!) but I’ve been around for several years now. I tend to be long-winded but value content over quality, and don’t care about “length matching” on replies. I will also basically always post images with my replies because it’s an integral part of the “acting” experience for me, but I have no objection if my interaction partners prefer to go straight-prose in their posts. No triggers, although I would appreciate it if any posts involving the deaths of cats (or kneazles) could be tagged so I can brace myself or skim over them!

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Dorcas Dembe Meadowes

(her parents named her Dorcas for grace–it means “gazelle”–and because her father just liked the way it sounded, and Dembe for peace to honor their hopes for the world and her future; while she is hardly clumsy, aside from that there seems to be little of Dorcas’s names in her attitude or personality…especially not of her middle name! So much for the wizarding superstition that a child’s names can be prophetic…)

AGE: 18

GENDER & SEXUALITY: Dorcas is a cis-gender witch who uses she/her pronouns. I haven’t settled 100% on her sexuality (given the time period, I expect she hasn’t either) but I’m leaning heavily toward her being either a lesbian or a bisexual. I plan to start the game with her being somewhat aware of her preferences, but not having sorted it all out yet. While romance is not a priority in terms of plots I’m seeking, I am definitely interested in Dorcas exploring and discovering more about herself and her identity throughout the game. I think she’s definitely someone who would throw herself into the idea of being Out (and damn the consequences – as usual) which may be especially interesting if it serves as a stumbling block for friends or fellow Order members (or potential/current romance partners) who come from a more conservative (muggle?) background and aren’t keen on her flaunting that.

BLOOD STATUS: half-blood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Hufflepuff (certainly never a prefect, although she did fly Reserve on the Quidditch team as a Beater for two years, playing in a total of one match)

ANY CHANGES: None!

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

“Brash enough to be a Gryffindor,” is something people say about Dorcas a lot – but only because they’re missing the point of Hufflepuff House, Dorcas insists. Hufflepuffs aren’t dull, mild stick-in-the-muds any more than any other House; they just have that reputation because they have more follow-through. Gryffindors are useless after the initial rush of bravada and adrenaline has worn-off; Ravenclaws are too easily distracted overall; and Slytherins are too quick to jump for the new advantage to see things through. Hufflepuffs, though, Hufflepuffs know how to focus. And while Dorcas might be quick to jump into a fray, she is no quitter. She’ll never admit a cause is lost (even when she should), never give up on anyone or anything…unless they betray her. Dorcas is an open-hearted, amiable, outgoing soul who is quick to offer friendship to others, but she is unforgiving and unshakable in the grudges she holds against those who let her down. Small things she can forgive, of course – she’s no monster and no one is perfect! But true, genuine betrayal? Of person or principle? That, she will not tolerate.

Dorcas herself is not always easy to tolerate either. Stubborn and blunt, she speaks her mind (even when perhaps she ought to keep it to herself) and her skill in tact and tempering is stunted from disuse. She redeems herself somewhat with those who can bear-up under her brusque honesty by being a loyal and helpful friend, but even that is sometimes negated by her devotion to whatever plan or purpose currently dictates her motivation. It’s not that she’s unkind – just something of a bulldozer. When Dorcas Meadowes decides to do something, she sees it through and damn the consequences – whether that be the numerous detentions she served in school, the bruised feelings of friends and foes alike, or the bridges she has (mostly metaphorically) burned behind her, she will not balk or hesitate even if it kills her (and everyone around her). And with the higher stakes at which the Order of the Phoenix operates, it just well might.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

The only child of Olive Blott and Thewton Meadowes, Dorcas grew-up in a comfortable, secure, sedate, middle-class magical home. Her parents doted without spoiling her and while she never wanted for anything much, she wasn’t the kind of child who was showered with expensive brooms or designer robes – which was just as well, as Dorcas wouldn’t have cared much for those sorts of over-priced trinkets anyway. Like Dorcas, her parents were solid, hard-working Hufflepuffs (they had met in school; although they hadn’t been in the same year to share classes, they shared plenty of time in the common room and cheering for their friends together on the Quidditch pitch) but unlike them, her work-ethic was rather flexible about where it was applied. Maybe that was an innate aspect of Dorcas’s personality, or something she learned from her non-Hufflepuff friends at school…or maybe, something she picked up from her grandmother. Zawedde Meadowes was a firebrand, an iconoclast, and a fighter. She taught her granddaughter not only how to fight, but when to fight. (Dorcas may have learned that lesson a little too well, with none of the accompanying “and when not to fight” counterpart.) It was Grandma Zawe who broke the erstwhile “purity” of the old Meadowes family line when she married into it – but after seven years as a muggle-born student in Slytherin, some disapproving family glares (and hexes) weren’t enough to make her break a sweat. Despite her more conservative son and daughter-in-law’s efforts to temper Zawe’s outspoken attitude and boundless confidence, Dorcas learned a lot from the grandmother who often served as babysitter while mum and dad were working in the bookshop. Olive and Thewton would have much rather their little girl were a little bit meeker and milder. More willing to go with the flow, like they do; to not cause a fuss. But “fuss” is what Dorcas excels at. The older she got, the more she has come to look on her parents with bemused and at times almost condescending affection. How could they be so content with a world that was so unfair? Keeping their heads down might have kept the shop free of controversy, sure, and that kept them profitable and free of the sort of attempted censorship that louder opinions often garnered, but it didn’t do anything to change things. While Zawe doesn’t know the full extent of Dorcas’s activities with the Order of the Phoenix – nor, indeed, does she know for sure exactly what the Order is nor that Dorcas is a member of an illegal vigilante group – she knows that her granddaughter is up to something dangerous and illicit, something that mirrors her own not-so-long-ago-as-all-that battles against Grindewald. Having personal experience with war makes Zawe aware of just how much danger her granddaughter may be in, but it also makes her proud. When she entertained little Dorcas with stories of her wartime activities, she never thought she might be preparing the girl for her own battles – but if that is where the world is now, so be it. Zawe continues to encourage Dorcas just as she always has, whether that be with playing alibi for mum and dad or by offering words of advice and encouragement after a particularly difficult battle or frustrating conversation with the Order’s more stick-in-the-mud members. Dorcas may have learned the value of hard-work from her parents, but she learned the importance of standing her ground from her gran. With those two elements combined, she’s proven herself a true force to be reckoned with – at least when she’s doing something she thinks matters. (Otherwise…well, “lackluster” would be a generous way to describe her effort.)

OCCUPATION:

Dorcas works as a part-time assistant at the family business, Flourish & Blotts, the main bookseller in Diagon Alley. Her parents would be a lot happier about the fact that she’s showing an interest in the family business if she would actually show an interest – but half the time she cuts out of her shifts early, or sprints in late, or calls-off altogether. If she weren’t family, she’d have long ago been fired, but how do you fire the woman who’s going to inherit the place one day? Scolding her doesn’t seem to help; she either shrugs it off or stomps off, claiming she has more important things to do. What can she be up to that’s keeping her so preoccupied?

ROLE WITHIN ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

As one of the newest – and also one of the most openly passionate – members of the Order, Dorcas ought to be sitting back and following the lead of her elders and proving where she can be most useful. Instead, she’s causing something of a stir with her big mouth, blunt criticism, and insistence on doing things differently. Dorcas wants the Order to be more proactive, even if that means being more violent. She’s not afraid of collateral damage; this is a war, after all! People get hurt in war, and letting things drag-out because you don’t have the conviction to do what needs to be done is only going to get more people hurt in the long run. So far, she hasn’t swayed anyone who matters to her side – not Kingsely, not Moody, not [Alice] Longbottom, and certainly not Dumbledore. But she is riling-up the younger members, which can be both good and bad: it’s hard to make proper plans when a quarter of the room won’t stop shouting, but it’s also hard to sink into morose despair when there’s a wild-haired girl barely out of her Hogwarts robes shouting in your ear about “taking the fight to Voldemort directly, what are we waiting for?” She has become something of a pivot point within the group – not yet carrying enough weight to tip the balance of power or force any major confrontation or schism, but enough to make people think. Enough to make people argue. Enough to stir things up – which is exactly what she wants. Dorcas has no time for complacency; that’s her parents’ stock in trade, not hers. She is so adamant about not waiting around in fact that she has branched-out on her own private “missions” outside Order edict, support, or sanction – which isn’t quite crossing the line, because it’s not as though they’re an army with orders to follow. They’re a group of desperate vigilantes all pitching-in together to stop a great evil…but Dorcas is pitching a little harder than what some people are comfortable being associated with. So far Dumbledore hasn’t said much about Dorcas and her methods one way or the other – but with how preoccupied he’s been with his own secretive efforts, one has to wonder if he’s had time to notice? Worse (or better, depending on your point of view), she’s convinced other junior members to go along with her on her mad, reckless crusades – acts that the Daily Prophet more often than not labels terrorism. They’re too skittish and scared to understand the difference between what she does and what the Death Eaters do, that’s all – them, and all the complacent fools sitting huddled in their houses, waiting for someone else to come and save them. Dorcas thinks that the Order has been coddling these people too much, letting too many wix get away with sitting on the sidelines by not forcing them to take sides – by letting them bury their heads in the sands and pretend that if they ignore the strife all around them, it will go away. She knows better, and she thinks she can force those layabouts to pick up wands and pick a side if she just rubs their noses in it a bit more. If she brings the war to them, they won’t be able to sit back and marinate in their timid apathy; they’ll have to join the fight, because when she’s through there won’t be any sidelines left in which to hide. Voldemort won’t stand a chance then, not once the rest of the magical community finally gets off their arses and admits that some wars need fought. She has no time to wait for the Ministry, they’re a lost cause – and she’s running out of time (or maybe just patience) to wait for the Order either. Dorcas is going to save the world – and if she has to burn down half of it in the process, so be it.

SURVIVAL: Dorcas’s safety net is her family; it always has been. They may not be enough to protect her from herself this time, though – but she hasn’t been involved in the war for long. She’s still living at home but spends more than a few nights each month crashing at the Potter estate, her room at her grandma’s flat, or with someone else in the Order after a mission or a meeting that runs late – or while she’s waiting for her wounds to heal enough to be able to go home without causing too much outcry. Her parents just think she’s “staying with friends,” as youngsters do – and that’s not technically a lie. Even the people in the Order with whom she doesn’t get along are companions in arms, and that’s almost the same thing as friends surely. Whether she’ll be able to maintain her parents’ ignorance for much longer may be a moot point; someone like Dorcas burns so brightly she may well burn out before there’s time for suspicions to raise.

RELATIONSHIPS:

NOTE: this is all very much first impressions based on bios etc and subject to change when characters are actually claimed and backgrounds plotted; ergo if you see anything in here about your character that doesn’t feel like it “fits” or you have a better idea for or just aren’t in the mood etc – splendid! Any and all of this can be changed, and is just a basis for what I’m going to springboard off to start with until other options can be discussed or developed! In general, Dorcas’s relationships with the rest of the Order are…okay. She’s new, so some of them don’t trust her yet; she’s reckless, so some of them never will. On the other hand, she’s enthusiastic in her commitment, and that’s something of a breath of fresh air amidst a war that’s starting to seem to some to be unwinnable. Definitely she’s a divisive figure – you can’t easily ignore or turn a blind-eye to Dorcas Meadowes, she’s too loud. Too demanding. Too sure that she’s got the right idea to win this war. That doesn’t mean everyone (or even a majority) agree with her methods, and that can make her easy to dislike – or resent. If she’s so willing to accept collateral damage, then how could the Order continue to hold its head up in moral superiority to their opponents? But what if she is right, and only more extreme methods will win the day? Doesn’t that mean the rest of the Order are failures…or cowards? For some people in the Order, it’s easy to say that Dorcas is wrong (or right), requiring only a simple gut-check to know. For others, the question she forces is much more uncomfortable to confront. For many, that makes Dorcas an uncomfortable person to be around – or someone who causes their temper to snap faster than even she maybe deserves, lashing-out at her rather than facing their uncertainty about themselves. She’s a catalyst, and those are not always well-liked by the people thus catalyzed. As for Dorcas’s feeling about some fellow Order members in specific… James Potter. Everything she knew about James before she joined the Order was that he was a bold, reckless, slightly-wild wizard who never passed-up the opportunity for a prank or a laugh or a spot of danger. He was supposed to be some kind of “golden boy” idol for fun-loving troublemakers. So she expected something…more. What she found was someone far too meek, far too reliable, far too tame. What happened? Was his reputation always a bunch of hot air, or has he just lost the will to fight? Regardless, Dorcas is disappointed – but maybe he’s salvageable. Sometimes she thinks she can see a spark in his eye when she’s outlining a scheme; sometimes she thinks if she can push his temper far enough over the edge maybe he’ll snap out of this funk and get back to the person he should be. Maybe he’ll stop letting Moody and Kingsley and Lily Evans hold him back and he’ll actually get off his butt and do something! Caradoc Dearborn. The man’s a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, sure, but he’s a reliable stick-in-the-mud. (If they had more Hufflepuffs in the Order, they wouldn’t all be sitting on their hands like this!) And no coward either – just too cautious for Dorcas’s tastes. She thinks she can fix that, though. He just needs more of her influence and less of Moody’s and Shacklebolt’s sense of caution. Needs to push himself out of their shadow and back into the proper fight. Dorcas is convinced that’s where he wants to be, too – she just needs to show him how to get there. Shouldn’t be too hard. (If some Death Eater had murdered her mother…!) And once he does, he won’t suffer from the sort of second thoughts and backtracking that plague so many of their fellows and keep the Order locked in this endless cycle of act-regret-act-retreat; Hufflepuffs get things done. She won’t deny that it’s nice to have a “familiar” face in the Order too – even if he’s too old to have actually shared time at Hogwarts with Dorcas, they both come from the cozy Hufflepuff cellars and the dedicated Hufflepuff work ethic and that’s pleasantly familiar; just talking to Caradoc for a little can be a balm to her otherwise jangling nerves or anxious energy. Emma Vanity. If Dorcas has a best friend in the Order, it’s got to be Emma. Which is odd, maybe, because Emma Vanity is not the sort of person one would expect someone like Dorcas to be friends with (or the other way around!) but here they are! They came into the Order together, and so far Emma’s seemed happy to stick at her side through thick-and-thin (and through older, more cautious Order members lecturing them both into behaving more – as if anyone ought to “behave” during a war!) and Dorcas is both glad and grateful. She acts like she doesn’t care if no one likes her – but it’s nice having a friend who always does. Emma’s refined and delicate high-society manners don’t even get on Dorcas’s nerves the way such things do with most people…maybe because with Emma they seem natural rather than forced, or maybe it’s because Emma is always so quick to follow Dorcas’s lead without acting like she’s lowering herself. Maybe it’s just because Emma’s pretty manners remind Dorcas of her late great-aunt – the one “old school” Meadowes who actually got along with Dorcas’s muggle-born grandmother, and who was always the nicest part of family gatherings for Dorcas. Emma has more gumption than people give her credit for, too – even if she does have to pushed into it, most of the time. Good thing Dorcas doesn’t mind doing a little bit of pushing. Benjy Fenwick. Him losing his Quidditch career like that was a waste – Dorcas saw him on the pitch enough in school to know that – but the sport’s loss was the Order’s (and her) gain, so she can’t be too sad about it (even though she tries to make sure she acts like she is, if the subject ever comes up; her focus might be a little narrow but she’s not mean!). She feels a little protective – no, a little proprietary toward him, too. After all, she was the one who knew he’d be a great fit for the Order; she was the one who knew he’d be of great use to the Order. (It’s not all running into battle and sprinting away from arrest; there are so many other skills that matter just as much!) The one who knew he was looking for somewhere to belong and was clever enough to offer that. That means he’s “on her side” – regardless of his thoughts on the matter, maybe! It’s not like she’s taking advantage of him, either; she’s just doing what’s best. For everyone. Including Benjy! He’s happier now than he was when he was just sitting around moping, right? So well done, Dorcas! And if that means she has access to a semi-professional Healer who won’t ask questions or go tattling to Moody or Kingsley or Dumbledore if she and a few mates come in all banged-up right after someone’s set-off an explosion in Knockturn Alley or started a fire at some pure-blood estate…well, that’s just a nice side benefit, really. Sirius Black. Dorcas doesn’t trust him. He can be a lot of fun, and can even be a lot of use – but if there’s a candidate for “most likely traitor” it’s Sirius Orion Black. Something about him just rubs Dorcas the wrong way (maybe it’s the fact that she doesn’t like the parts of him she does like; maybe it’s just knowing how his relatives treated her relatives once upon a time – but Dorcas doesn’t believe in inherited guilt any more than she believes in inherited purity so it can’t be that!) so even though he’s one of the few in the Order who really seems to get what she’s pushing for, who really seems to be on board…there’s a little nugget of suspicion. He just seems to be trying too hard all the time – as though his rebellion against his family were pure performance. The fact that he “broke it off” with the Blacks too early to be able to give the Order any real information about his family’s (very very likely) support of Voldemort is awfully convenient. The fact that his “disreputable best friends” are two half-bloods and a pure-blood rather than, say, any muggle-borns or anything really objectionable is awfully convenient too. Almost like the sort of friends someone who believed in blood-purity but wanted to pretend they didn’t would acquire. (He seems to respect James – the pure-blood – the most, too. How convenient.) He even inherited a nice convenient little chunk of money from some uncle, didn’t he? Almost like his family wanted to make sure that he had enough to live on while he was “cut off” from their fortunes… Oh yes, there are a lot of things about Sirius Black’s story that are just a little bit too convenient for Dorcas to easily swallow. A lot of things that would make him the perfect spy for the people who share his surname…and the person a lot of them are almost certainly working for. The fact that there’s never been any proof just shows that Sirius is more subtle than he lets on, that’s all – unless he isn’t the spy. (But if not, who is?) Dorcas isn’t sure – and she isn’t one to turn down a gift horse just because she thinks it might bite her fingers off. As long as Sirius wants to help her plot some mayhem, she’ll take that help and even enjoy herself along the way – and she certainly isn’t going to say anything to undercut the support he sometimes offers her when a big argument gets going about how proactive (or not) the Order should be. But she’s going to keep an eye on him, anyway…someone should.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS:

I have no ships in mind for Dorcas. Speaking generally, I think she is likely to be the kind of person who tumbles passionately into and out of love, and for the most part the “cause” comes first and “happily ever after” is for quitters – or at least, that’s the outlook on which she will insist both to herself and to others; her heart may disagree however, and Dorcas is not one to be ruled by common sense or cold logic, which could potentially place her in interesting circumstances. For individual characters, I’m keen to bounce Dorcas off of both those who agree and disagree with her – and regardless of whether they end up sporting romantic inclinations toward one another or not, I’m particularly interested to explore her relationship with Emma Vanity. Also her relationship with James Potter, but I’m definitely not seeing any potential for romance there! XD

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

One might think that having a Muggle-born grandmother she so adores and looks up to would leave Dorcas free of any traces of blood-prejudice – but one would be wrong, because Dorcas did still grow-up in the magical world and it is far, far too easy to internalize the prevailing attitudes of one’s society even when one ought to know better. Oh, she’s no blood-supremacist – but has she ever looked at a talented Muggle-born with shock at their skills because she expected less of someone with Muggle parents? Of course she has. Part of that comes from her own grandmother’s stories, even: knowing how hard Zawe had to work to keep up with housemates who knew so much more than she did about everything when she started at Hogwarts, Dorcas knows that Muggle-borns are starting-out a little behind the rest of the class…and when you “know” that and grow-up surrounded by a society that’s all-too-quick to assume anyone of Muggle origins is “less than” everybody else? It’s all-too-easy to fall into the same lower expectations…even when you tell yourself it’s just “more impressive” coming from someone like that. The fact that Dorcas doesn’t believe herself to have any sort of anti-Muggle-born prejudice really only makes it worse, because if confronted about it she’d only get defensive and argue the point – she isn’t, she can’t be. Don’t be silly. She’d never! She also shares most of the same other base prejudices common to magical society: werewolves are unclean and dangerous, giants are stupid and violent, goblins are greedy and unstrustworthy… All the “classic” prejudices that become so ingrained in society that it can be hard to even notice them until you know they’re there. Being a half-blood with such close Muggle-roots means thar Dorcas herself falls on the middling-low end of the privilege/prejudice ladder, which gives her just enough social stigma that she can sit back and blithely convince herself that she isn’t prejudiced while still giving her enough of a privileged position to make her life comfortable. No, she’s not some pure-blooded toff with connections stretching back halfway to Merlin who can wink-and-nod their way out of an altercation with the law…but she does fall well within the borders of Ordinary Citizen, nothing too fishy or objectionable about her to make somebody look twice or doubt her word. Plus she’s got the convenience of a recognizable and respected family to fall back on when she trouble comes calling – particularly in the form of the M.L.E.P., who are usually inclined to cut her some extra slack. (“Her parents run Flourish & Blotts, after all, my kids got their schoolbooks there! Go ahead and let the lass off with a warning there John, she’s just blowing-off steam, you know how kids are! No harm done…”) Her time with the Order is just enough for Dorcas to begin noticing this – which is both uncomfortable for her to have to own-up to in her own mind, and convenient for a woman with an agenda like hers. Knowing she can get away with a little bit more than she ought to is going to come very much in handy for dear Dorcas…even if the concept sticks in her craw.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

I am honestly just so excited to get to explore the imperfections and prejudices within the Order; too often fandom makes 99% of the characters in HP so black-and-white in terms of good-vs-evil when most of them aren’t. Sure, there are extreme end-of-the-spectrum characters like Voldemort and Bella and Umbridge who are pretty much Pure Evil (and the occasional opposite end like the hardly-flawless-but-wholly-good-hearted Luna Lovegood) but for the most part, the people in this story are just people. (All that “both light and dark inside us” blah blah blah stuff.) But when you only focus on the Good Guys vs Bad Guys – particularly when the cause the bad guys are fighting for is so bad – it’s easy to gloss-over the flaws in the people fighting against them; easy to forget that they aren’t always great too. Easy to forget that just because you’re fighting against a group of people trying to enshrine prejudice as near-holy writ in their society doesn’t mean that you’re automatically free of prejudice yourself. (Maybe some of the people in the Order are there because they oppose blood-supremacy, but does that mean they like werewolves? Doubt it! Or what about the ones who come from Muggle roots who thus have Muggle prejudices that the wizarding world has little of – racism, for starters! What about queerness? Is it more tolerated in a magical society where people can change genders as easily as they transfigure themselves into rabbits and armchairs, and where marriage has always been about preserving the family line more than romance so who cares what the gender of your “bit on the side” is as long as you produce a proper heir? Etc. What about religion? I doubt too many wix go in for Muggle religions, when so many of those belief systems take the tactic of “thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!” so how does that conflict play-out between those who grew-up with one foot in the magical world and one in the Muggle? So many options for turmoil!) Just because someone is paying enough attention to know that Voldemort is evil doesn’t even mean that they don’t share some of the same ideals being spouted by the Death Eaters – maybe unconsciously, maybe to a lesser degree, etc…but still there, in their head. Internalized. Needing to be unpacked, confronted – but fandom does so little of that. Good Guys are Good, End of Story. The Order were all friends who got along, la la la! Nope. Don’t think so. The Order was made up of a bunch of scared, desperate, angry, beleaguered people (several of them outcasts in their own way) fighting life-and-death battles against an enemy they couldn’t always even find, opposing their own government in many ways in order to “do the right thing” – fighting a war that half the populace would rather just went away. Even if they had all started as buddies, that would have been enough strain to crumble half their friendships by the end – and conversely, to forge people who otherwise have nothing in common into lifelong mates. The interpersonal relationships and inevitable clashes and arguments and confrontations – those are going to be awesome. I’m so excited.

ROULETTE IDEAS (OPTIONAL):

Firstly let me just say that I am happy to offer Dorcas up for any plotting purposes needed – whether that be her little group doing something destructive or illegal, a line that shouldn’t have been crossed, an injury or death that can be blamed on her directly or indirectly, kidnapping (with temporary hostage-plotting of Dorcas; I can sit out a bit no worries!) and rescue mission, whatever! Even if it’s not a plot drop about her, feel free to make use of Dorcas in any sort of inciting incident required; I’m not possessive! As for specific ideas… -Epidemic: because disease doesn’t seem to be something the magical community has to really deal with much (got a cold? Take a Pepper-Up Potion and it’ll go away in an hour!), not the way Muggles do, so I think it would be interesting to have a sudden outbreak of something (something Muggle or something magical?) run rampant through Wizarding England, particularly right now mid-war. (Perhaps rumors will fly that it’s deliberate – but from which side? And engaging in biological warfare in magical war, really??? Are we Muggle barbarians now??) Something strange and uncommon for them to deal with…something that will drive people in to St. Mungo’s in larger-than-usual droves and leave the potioneers and herbologists working overtime and meanwhile there’s a bloody war on we’re busy enough already do you mind? -Someone Gets Bit: either there’s a second werewolf in the Order now (has Remus been exposed yet? Guess it’s his responsibility to play Lycanthropic Yoda – or if he’s still closeted, time for a Guilt Waterfall deciding whether or not to out himself and help out! uh-oh!) or it’s a Bill Weasley/Lavender Brown situation where the offending werewolf wasn’t transformed but oh no lycanthropic taint now what? and general panicking with a heavy side-helping of bigotry whoops! Maybe the Death Eaters get wind of the fact that the Order has a Pet Werewolf, so they sic their own (not so) tame puppy on them with an ambush by Fenrir Greyback and his buddies…or they could decide to fuck with the Order by using Transfiguration to fake a werewolf pack attack, and everyone panics over the bites that are actually harmless but too late to take back anything they said or did when they figure it out whoops – basically just the Death Eaters pulling a nasty prank (because the Marauders aren’t the only immature asshole wix out there lol) but also has the potential “side benefit” of the Order risking exposure by going to St. Mungo’s to get treatment etc….idk this one sounded better in my head before I started detailing it, but I’m sharing it anyway in case it triggers a better idea with someone else! XD -Fake Defection: probably making use of a temporary secondary character, or as a potential idea for someone who wants to join the game only for a few weeks (due to scheduling issues or attention span or whatever) and then write their character out: a Death Eater makes contact with someone in the Order and wants to defect! Everyone is equal parts excited/suspicious! They are brought-in for debriefing and discussion! Things seem to be on the up-and-up…but they aren’t, it’s all a ploy by Voldemort and not a real defection at all but an attempt to worm a spy into the Order or at least sow distrust oh no! They make leading comments and sly little observations that has the Order distrusting each other as much as the supposed defector (who is the spy within the Order???) and eventually blows their cover either with a fight or by ratting-out some of their plans to the Death Eaters leading to an ambush etc etc…but in the meantime? At least one or two Order members thought they’d made a friend (and maybe they really had! but the Death Eater’s loyalty trumps their affection!) and that hurts. (Alt: if the player ends up falling in love with the character and wants to keep them, throw in a twist where the DE in question initially came in as a double-agent for Voldemort but then ends up falling for their new friends and even questioning their own prejudices as a result of direct exposure to the people they used to think weren’t people and now they have to work-out how to really switch sides without burning their bridges with the people who thought they’d already switched sides, whoops!) -Burning the Books: trouble at Flourish & Blotts! Maybe something nasty follows Dorcas home one day; maybe someone in the Death Eaters just gets offended at some of the product being stocked and Dorcas’s parents ignored the threatening letters and hints (because who would actually do any of those things? They’re just selling books! This is a civilized society!) so the Death Eaters decided to make a bigger gesture. Maybe it wasn’t even the Death Eaters themselves, but someone who was inspired by the current social strife and decided to act on their own agenda of hate for from arson-style censorship. How unsettled would Dorcas be to discover her safe-haven was a target now? Would it hit home hard enough to make her question her own policy of “collateral damage is inevitable, stop fussing!” that she’s been pushing? Would it inspire her dial-back her more extreme efforts – or only make her embrace them harder, because if even home isn’t safe anymore than all bets are off! Maybe it’s even all out of her hands by then; maybe it would be a wake-up-call to respect the rules of engagement more but it’s too late, her agenda has a life of its own and she can’t stop it now…so better run and keep up before you get run over? Or plant your feet and try to make a stand, even if you’re standing against what you used to advocate?

ANYTHING ELSE? nothing!

#homenumaccepted #new rp #marauders #bio rpg #marauders rolepla

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heavenlydreamerblog · 5 years

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In Too Deep

Hi everyone. Getting back the writing vibe and hope to post every Friday if possible. This follows on from Chapter 16 and Shannon’s post on Instagram! Keep giving me feedback on likes and dislikes. I’ll take all your comments on board. If anyone else wants tagging in future fiction, just drop me a message. And if I keep missing your tag (this does happen) let me know!

@letsbeautifuldisaster @llfd1977 @nikkitasevoli @letojokerownsme @wolfgirl624@beautorigin @jaredlxto @i-writeandread @darlingdiary87 @reikihealermary@msroxyblog @lifeonmars30 @myxtina @pixieriding @lostinletoland

Check out In Too Deep on my Wattpad account:

https://www.wattpad.com/user/HeavenlyDreamerBlog

Chapter 17

I froze in his arms, a dizzying feeling washing over me as he pulled me in ever closer, holding me tight to his chest.

Instagram? What was he thinking? "Are you really sure this was a good idea Shan?" I pulled my head from his shoulder so we could at least have eye contact for this conversation.

"You know you like your privacy. This'll blow that out of the water," I warned. "Let me see what you've posted." I made a grab for his phone but he held it out of my reach. "Shan! C'mon you must let me see... y'know it'll affect me as well as you," I pleaded, leaning across his body. He smiled, watching my arms stretching out towards his phone. His arm held me at bay. "Ask nicely and maybe ....," he teased. Then, with a smile playing on his lips: "Or how about kiss me and I hand over my phone and the password." His eyes locked on my mine waiting for an answer.

I let out a nervous laugh. "You drive a hard bargain Leto but you're forgetting something." I reached into my pocket for my phone. "I'm following you on Instagram Shan, remember?" I pulled away from him and keyed in my password, holding my breath. One click and Instagram popped up on my screen. I could feel my breathing slow and the dizziness return as I scrolled down the screen. And then ... there we were. The photo showed Shannon's eyes gazing into the camera with his arms wrapped around my back and his fingers splayed in my hair. You couldn't see my face and I hoped my white T-shirt was anonymous enough not to identify me. His words underneath read: ‘Guess what! Early birthday present’.

I so desperately wanted to be mad with him but part of me melted when I saw his eyes in the photo. They were hooded and looking up into the camera lens, while his lips were buried in my hair. "It's a beautiful photo," I murmured, closing the distance between the two of us. "I love it ... I just wish maybe you'd asked me before posting." I stood on tiptoes and gently kissed the corner of his lips, running my fingers across his stubble.

"And if I'd asked .... ?" He let the question hang in the air. "You would have said no Lexy. Anyway, I don't think anyone'll know it's you."

But I knew this wasn't the problem we were now facing. "Shan this photo's gonna go viral and you know they'll stop at nothing to find out my identity. " I felt quite sick at the thought of the impending chaos that his post was likely to cause. "And you'll have the paparazzi on your back," I warned, rubbing my fingers across his calloused palms. "You're not making things easy for us," I sighed.

"Look at me Lexy." He cupped my chin and raised my face to his. "You know how close I came to fucking up and losing you." I watched him search for the words to continue. "This is just my way, however crazy, of telling everyone that I'm happy with someone I care deeply about."

He bit down on his bottom lip, looking for a response to his admission. Words weren't my strong point in these situations; instead I trailed my fingers across his neck until they tangled with his hair. "Give me space and time Shannon," I whispered. "Things .... they're complicated at the moment." But as the words came out, I realised time was running out and that the space I needed would be hard to find.

I could see the hurt in his eyes and it burned into me like a flame through snow. “Shan, there are things I need to sort out.” I looked at the doubt and hurt in his eyes and walked away, afraid to look back. “I’ll let myself out.” I unlocked the door and walked into the cool evening air. I felt a sob escape my lips, unable to forget the look in his eyes. How could I say the love word to Shannon when I’d allowed myself to be turned by his brother?

**************

I put my key in the lock and turned it, shoving open the door with my hip while balancing files in one hand and a bag of shopping in the other.

I walked slowly, careful not to drop anything on my way into the kitchen. Jess was waiting, two glasses of red wine balanced perfectly in either hand as she watched me approach. I placed the files on the counter top and dropped the bag on the floor. I held my hand out and accepted the glass. “Thanks Jess,” I sighed, gesturing to our favourite sofa in the den. “Let’s sit down so I can think through everything.” I’d already called ahead, breaking my heart to Jess while explaining everything that had happened between myself and Shannon: the Instagram post, his feelings for me, the look of hurt on his face and me walking out on him.

I grabbed a handful of cushions and placed them under my head, my feet on Jess’s lap. “Have you seen the Instagram post?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

Jess paused and then nodded. “So what do you think? Will anyone recognise me?” Of course what I really wanted to ask was: Would Jared know it was me?

She rubbed her hands over my feet, knowing it was a guaranteed stress reliever. “Do you want the honest truth?” I could feel the air around me cooling, reaching out and curling its way into my veins.

“Just tell me what you think Jess ... honestly.”

“Well ... I know it’s you because I know you’re with Shannon some of the time,” she said, reassuring me slightly. “Whether anyone else will know .... well ... I guess time will tell,” she mused. But I could tell she was holding something back. I noticed little frown lines creasing her brow and that habit she had of rubbing the skin on her lips if she was worried.

I took a gulp of wine to calm my nerves. “OK what’s up? I can tell there’s something you’re not saying. Just spit it out.”

Jess breathed deeply before speaking. “Jared’s called the office this afternoon and he’s been calling my phone, wanting to know where you are. Have you had any missed calls or messages from him?” she asked. “He sounded really pissed .... maybe you should call him back to sort out the problem,” she suggested, moving my feet from her lap and placing them back on the floor. “Come on. There’s no time like the present. You know what he’s like – the longer you leave it, the more pissed he’ll get.”

So now I’ve got Shannon pissed with me because I ran out on him, unable to communicate my feelings’ and Jared’s pissed with me for reasons unknown. I rested my elbows on my knees and groaned. “Jess, why did I ever agree to take on this job with Jared? My stress levels are way off the scale.” I could feel my stomach tightening, butterflies fluttering at the thought of what was to come next.

Jess pushed herself up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen. “Is your phone in this bag on the floor Lex?” she called out. I could hear her rummaging around and then she returned, holding it out to me. “Call him, now! Find out what’s the problem and then deal with it. And Lex ...” she sat back down and pulled me into her arms. “Try a bit of self restraint and honesty. It’s four days until the party. What happens then, when you’re confronted with Jared and Shannon? You have to sort out this shit before it’s too late sweetheart.” She dragged her fingers through my hair, watching as I closed my eyes. I felt her lips brush across my cheek. “Go Lex. Phone Jared.”

**************

I sat on my bed, phone in hand dreading the next few minutes. After a few deep breaths, I lay back on the pillows and hit the call button next to his name.

One ring, two rings, three rings ... four rings. I was just about to hang up when the line suddenly connected. There was silence. Keep a grip Lexy, I thought, even though I could feel a sense of panic taking over me. “Ummmm ... Jared, are you there?” I asked, again met with silence. I tried to bring my breathing under control. “OK, if you’re not going to talk, I’ll hang up ...” I waited to see if this would work, more than willing to carry out my threat.

Suddenly his voice whispered down the line: “There’s something you’re not telling me Lexy. Why couldn’t I get hold of you this afternoon?” There was a pause, then he continued: “I called the office as well as Jess but nobody would say where you were. What’s the secret you’re keeping?”

I could feel a swirling vortex in my head, my vision was clouded and every muscle tensed as I desperately fought to find a credible answer. What had Jess said about telling the truth? “Jared.” I paused for a moment, giving me time to think. “Look I know you demand a lot ... but I have a life away from this job as well you know. And that life is private. Surely you of all people can understand the need to keep some things secret.” I waited to see how he would react. There was silence again.

Downstairs I could hear Jess clearing the kitchen, pots and pans clattering and doors opening and closing. “Jared, are you speaking to me?” I asked. All I could hear in the background was noise and I was sure a murmured conversation. “Jared, are you with someone else? Talk to me or I’ll hang up.” Still nothing. I huffed and hit the end call button. Two people could play this game, I thought. I tossed my phone on to the bedside table and waited for him to call me back. Nothing. Downstairs, the kitchen din had subsided and I could hear the creak of the stairs. Jess must be coming to bed.

“Jess,” I called out, “Things didn’t work out. J wouldn’t talk to me.” I heard footsteps outside my door and the handle turned. “Come and talk to me Jess, for God’s sake I need someone to hold on to at the moment.” I closed my eyes and breathed. The bed dipped. “How can I deal with him Jess?” I reached out for her hand and opened my eyes.

I’d dimmed the lights so I wasn’t dazzled but the sight made me freeze, the words drying up in my throat. Jared was sat on my bed, his blue eyes drilling into me. “Talk to me instead Lexy.” I tried sitting up but wasn’t quick enough, his hands pushing me down.

I was trapped. I tried to move, but each time I twisted away, Jared's grip tightened on my wrists. I watched as his muscles strained against my efforts to free myself. "Just-let-me-go," I gasped, the words stammered through sobs as I gave up holding back the floodgate of tears. His grip loosened and I yanked my arms away, turning my face into the pillow, wanting to hide the tears now streaming down my reddened cheeks. I was furious that Jared could cause me to break down like this. I'd never felt so vulnerable. There was movement behind me and I felt the mattress dip further, the cool air replaced by the warmth of his body. Jared's hand returned, this time gentle and soothing, gently rubbing my back and shoulders.

Jared's POV

I knew I shouldn't have come back to Lexy's but I was so mad when she left so suddenly this afternoon. I've always made a point of never mixing work with pleasure - and this is the reason why. My anger got the better of me and now look what's happened. I can't bear to see what I've done which is why I'm lying here, too close for comfort considering what I've just put her through. I scoop a strand of her hair and breath in the smell of her body. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "Lexy talk to me. I hate myself for doing this to you." I feel her breathing calm and slow down but she doesn't move or make any attempt to say anything. I lie next to her, rubbing my stubble gently on her back, letting my breath leave warm trails across her bare shoulders. I desperately want to know who she was with this afternoon but I guess I'll have to wait until she's ready to talk. My lips leave soft kisses across her skin. "I'm leaving Lexy. Get some sleep and I'll see you tomorrow."

There's so much more I want to say and so much more I want to do. I ache for her touch, for the feel of her lips on mine. I want her long legs wrapped around me; I want to drag my tongue across her soft nipples. And I want to hear her moan as we both climax together.

But instead, I lean over and kiss her gently on her cheek. "Goodnight baby girl."

#shannon leto #shannon leto fanfic #shannon leto fanfiction #jared leto #jared leto fan fic #jared leto fan fiction #30stm #jared leto 30stm #30stm fanfiction #shannon leto 30stm #Black Fuel #In Too Deep

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chezzkaa · 5 years

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Numb pt 22

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Lumberjack AU Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader WC: 2100+

Date posted: 18 Nov 2018

Megan Pottsman Missing 17/12/2015 - Found 22/12/2015 Body, female. 10 yo. Found 500 meters past tree line. Blunt force trauma. Lacerations across torso, shoulders, base of skull. Clear Bear Attack. No labs required.

SCRIPT

Interview with Mathew. D. Pottsman (Father) Interviewer: Officer G. Sorola Supervisor: Det. Insp. M. Hullum 17/12/2015 03:37am

Sorola: Hello, Mr. Pottsman, I’m Officer Sorola. I’m going to ask you some questions relating to your daughter’s disappearance. Please remember that you will need to tell us everything so that we can do our jobs.

Pottsman: Yeah, okay. I can do that.

Sorola: And you’re alright with being recorded?

Pottsman: Yes.

Sorola: Then lets get started. Mr. Pottsman, when was the last time you saw Megan?

Pottsman: Probably at dinner the night she went missin’. I made her favourite, and she wanted to watch TV. I went to do some reading and left her watching some cartoon show.

Sorola: Is that all?

Pottsman: I heard her.

Sorola: Pardon?

Pottsman: I heard her. There was a knock on the door and she answered it. I heard her tell me she was going out, and that’s the last of it. Told her to come back before the snow got too bad. When the street lamps came on. But she… she didn’t.

Sorola: Any ideas as to which of her friends it was?

Pottsman: … no.

Sorola: No?

Pottsman: That’s what I said. I don’t know which friend it was.

Sorola: So, please let me know if I’ve somehow misunderstood you. You let your 10 year old daughter leave the house with someone you assume to have been a friend, of who you don’t know, in the middle of a brewing snow storm? And, more importantly,you made no effort to check on your daughter and her friend for yourself.

Pottsman: No, no now you’re making it sound like I wanted her to leave. Like I don’t love my daughter!

Sorola: I haven’t said anything of the sort.

Pottsman: You don’t have too! You’re sat right in front of me acting all high and mighty. You know what? It’s my fault. There, I said it. It’s all my fault. I was a shitty dad and now my daughter is missing. If Megan doesn’t come back I’m going to be the one that’s killed her. Not whoever took her, not the weather. Not some wild animal. Me, cus I couldn’t bring myself to be a good dad.

Sorola: Mr. Pottsman, please. No one here is accusing you of anything. Right now this is a missing persons case and we’re doing everything we can to locate your daughter. That includes interviewing everyone that came into contact with her before the incident. The person who you claim to have knocked on the door is a prime suspect, and possibly the last person to have seen Megan. Is she likely to have left with an adult?

Pottsman: I don’t think so. She understood stranger danger.

Sorola: What about an adult she recognised?

Pottsman: Listen here, officer. Everyone in this town knows everyone. We’re friends with every family here cus we all go to that damn community garden thing. Megan gets along with all of them, even that new carpenter down the street. She baked him some cookies cus she was worried he wouldn’t have any friends, ha, she told him to go to the garden cus she though he’d get along with the large guy. What’s his name? Jack? He was over the freakin’ moon when he fixed up our neighbours house and she brought them out with a little card she’d made.

Sorola: New carpenter? Are you talking about Haywood?

Pottsman: Hmm? Yeah, him. Stand up bloke. You don’t think it was him, do you? Oh god, Megan told him to hang around with the other kids.

Sorola: No, we don’t believe he is involved. His alibi is airtight. He is accounted for outside his home at the time Megan disappeared. We currently have no suspects, which is why we’re talking to you.

Pottsman: So you do think I did it!

Sorola: Please, we’ve been over this.

Pottsman: I - I… okay. No, okay. I’m sorry. My nerves are just - it’s been a long few hours. I’ve smoked a pack. A whole pack, can you believe it? I haven’t smoked in years, and now I can’t sit still without something between my damn fingers.

Sorola: It’s perfectly normal to revert into old habits when you’re nervous.

Pottsman: Nervous? No, no the claw marks on my neighbour’s porch that’ve now turned up on mine make me nervous. The snow and that bleedin’ livestock massacre that’s going on either side of my home makes me nervous. But my daughter being missing? I’m fucking terrified. I’m so scared I can’t see straight. I just - I can’t. Everytime I close my eyes I can hear that damn knocking. I should have gotten the door. Jumped that fucking railing so Meg didn’t have to open it. It should’ve been me. Oh god, it should’ve been me.

“Hey Michael,” you call over your shoulder, fanning out the photos of the tiny body covered in blood and curled in the snow. “I think I’ve found another one.”

His head pops up over the stack of files he’s working through, eyes encased in growing bags. Sat cross legged in the evidence locker, he’d long since abandoned the confines of a desk. “What’s the date?”

“She was found on the 17th of December in 2015.”

He whistles, glancing down to the timeline at his feet and following the numbers with his finger. “Got it! Gimme a name.”

“Megan Pottsman,” you read off, peering at a shot of her on a medical table. Body bloated, skin crossed with blues and bruises.

“She’s an early one.”

“She’s the 3rd we’ve found in 2015,” you murmur, bringing the photo you hold closer. “Happened before Jeremy moved here, too. He arrived in 2016, I think? This victim was put down as a bear attack.”

Michael perks up, shuffling over to you and sifting through the file. He stops on one of the same set of photos you’re trying to make sense of, lost in the line carving across skin. “Doesn’t look like a bear.”

“Bears rarely attack people, too,” you add. “Get this: her dad said in an interview that she went out with someone that knocked on the door. He thought it was a friend, and look at the lacerations. They’re not quite like the ones on the victims we’ve got, by they’re a damn lot closer to the markings on entryways of Pottsman’s home and the neighbours.”

“You’re right!” Michael exclaims, “this is the third body with similar markings. And his testimony puts the knocking and the scratches in the same timeframe as the missing person.”

“Is there a photo of her from behind?” you ask, rifling through the contents, urged on by the burn smouldering at the base of your skull. Irritation thick around your throat. It takes a moment for you to find, but eventually the gloss of the image you’re searching for sticks to your fingers.

“Here,” says Michael, plucking the picture from your hand and lining it up with the other 2 photos of the 2015 victims, all presenting their necks.

Drawing closer it gets harder to breathe. With an uncomfortable constricting sensation that tightens your throat - of which you blatantly try to ignore - you take in the wounds. It’s not hard to recognise them anymore. The tell tale signs are obvious after having witnessed them so many times. The slightly blacked curl of the incision located at the base of the skull. The raw irritation circling the neck. Sure, their skulls hadn’t been removed like the later victims, but they matched the earliest cases you had, clumsy as the wounds may be.

“This is fantastic. That ties our killer to the body!”

Michael doesn’t even question you with a funny look, equally excited. “Perfect in the worst possible way, but absolutely awesome. We’ve finally got an undeniable link between the Widow ghost story knocking bullshit and the killer. Meaning analysing the scratches on doorways and comparing them to the body lacerations will help with determining the murder weapon!”

You’re nodding, compiling the evidence into a seperate box and pointing to Michael with a determined finger. “You got Jackie’s number?”

He rockets into standing. “You bet your ass I do!”

“Then call her, damn it. With this information she’ll be able to confirm the correlation between the new victims and the scratches, prove that we should be looking into the possibility of a copycat killer for the Widow of the Woods. We’ll finally prove to Jeremy that he’s a fucking idiot for not listening! We can do this.”

“We can fucking do this!”

“I’m absolutely exhausted! I’m going home.”

“Me too!”

“Nope,” you reject, beaming at him and handing over the box, “you’re going to face the beast.”

“How dare you call Jackie a beast?”

“Jackie? Hell no. I’m talking about Jeremy. You can tell him he’s wrong, I value my life.”

The walk home is everything you could have asked for. Cold enough for the wind to nip at the skin lining your cheeks, to gnaw on your nose until it’s red raw; but warm enough in the burrow of your clothing. And isolated enough to gather your thoughts into something you can almost excuse for a pile.

Because as the snow starts to dance, the streets clear. Families giggling with eager children into shelter, doors closing with audible snaps and warm orange light flooding from the windows. Even the distant figure of Ryan, of who you raise a hand to wave to as he sits stagnant on his front porch watching the white caught on the wind, stands to head inside. You don’t blame him. Continuing past until the store disappears behind you.

It’s quiet, which is nice. A welcome change to the mayhem that’s been inhabiting your mind so frequently. Chaos causing havoc and a constant stream of uncontrollable chatter. Hands buried deep in your pockets, it’s with every turn of your charmed stones that you realise just why it’s been so loud inside you head. Why you haven’t tried to instate some silence.

Because, if you had, you’d remember her.

Which, honestly, isn’t ideal with an open serial homicide case running rampant through your priorities.

And again, now that you’ve mentioned honesty to yourself, you can’t avoid the reason why you’re so frustrated with Jeremy. Why you want to take him by the shoulders and shake, desperate to hear the rattle of common sense. Of a failure you’ve both shared, and the experience you seem to have taken away while he’s remained as stubborn as ever. If he keeps going the way he is, refusing to explore a potential lead because it seems implausible, or silly, or pointless, someone else is going to die.

The crunching of snow beneath your boots works wonders, sound enough to ease the panic bubbling just below the surface. Every few steps draws in a deep, freezing breathe. Calm with every recount of ‘left foot, right foot, repeat’. Doused in the glow of happy homes and flanked by snow banks, it all starts to make sense. There’s an uncomfortably misplaced relief at the prospect of connecting the things you knew to be related all along, the links between the scratches, knocking, and missing children now so solid that people can’t ignore it.

So solid that you can’t question your sanity anymore, because the evidence is clear as day. Paranormal or otherwise. The Widow of the Woods, or the story at least, had a role to play. Of that you were sure.

The lodge comes into view after a few more minutes of quiet walking, nothing but the wind accompanying its breech above the snow. Through the windows comes the compassionate glow of Lauren’s summertime; of warmth and comfort and family as she spins in Trevor’s arms, the pair laughing and dancing in the firelight. The hum of music trembling into the snow. Wrapped in the intoxication of togetherness, of the overwhelming love they have for one another - that same love that greets you at the door as you ease off your shoes and unravel from your layers.

But you don’t bother them, not yet, anyway. Instead watching them claim the living room as a dancefloor, Lauren’s sunshine caught in Trevor’s gaze that looks as though he can’t thank the stars enough for the beauty he holds in his hands. Can’t tell the woman with shining cheeks and a smile that brightens the room just how wonderful she is. How she glows whenever he so much as throws her a glance, or fractures into rays of gold when he smiles. Her happiness so warm and inviting that it throbs around her body, casting those she loves in her own light. And as he looks at her now, it’s like words won’t be enough.

That nothing will be, which is why he’ll never stop trying.

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justthequilltip · 6 years

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Light[s] of my world

Having a baby changes a lot.

Thanks, Captain Obvious.

You’re welcome, Deeply Unoriginal Reference.

One thing it changed for a good chunk of time was my writing capability. To be honest, my writing suffered a heck of a lot more during my pregnancy than during the early months with my baby. I had constant nausea and fatigue to thank for that. Which, rather shockingly, played curiously with self-doubt and confidence, but that’s a tale for another time (no one cares). My little one is four months old now and though I’m not holding onto any routine being set in stone, I’ve found a place and time where I can make writing work (a bit) and I’m so happy about it! I’m not as happy when my alarm goes at 5:30am but once I’ve got my coffee and my mind is moving, I’ve got golden writing time for a good two or so hours. Sometimes this involves one-handed typing as I nurse my fellow early riser... While I may be lucky to have a baby that sleeps through the night and also one who seems like a pretty chill little one, I also think a lot of parenting (and life, in general) is about outlook/perspective. As a middle class white female, while I definitely come from a place of modest to high privilege, I can afford to be positive. I don’t have mountainous debt. I’m not racially profiled in a negative way. I can move and go places where I choose. So on and so on. I have choice and options. Some people don’t have this and therefore have a harder time looking on the bright side and may want to tell me to STFU. Still, I am lucky and this allows me to find windows of positivity and light. Ok, let’s get off this high horse tangent and back to the point. What I’m saying is that I’ve found a little time and space for writing, in spite of having the sometimes exhausting tasks of new momhood. It comes with some sacrifice (ahem, sleep and Netflix roaming), but it is also a privilege. I can get up in the early mornings and write and plan and research. I can do the same when my little one naps. And sometimes I can’t because my brain is fried or just as I turn on my computer the baby wakes or I believe a yoga sesh will benefit my creativity more.

And in this way, I’ve been able to balance my new love (little Yvette) with one of my old loves (writing). I've had to readjust priorities, of course, but all this has done is help me figure out what’s important. Time with my baby takes precedence and that’s ok. It doesn’t make me any less of a writer. I can be both. It’s still odd to think of myself as a mom because I feel green and immature and that’s ok too.

But I think we can and should have multiple lights/purposes in our lives. It‘s what fills living up.

P.s. I’m going to try and get back to some blogging these days and not just cheat by posting my Instagram posts on this account, which will obviously still be writing- and life-focused, but that now includes a baby. So if you don’t want to hear about writing with a little one and as a writer/human, as Melissa McCarthy playing Megan so poignantly shouts in Bridesmaids, “LOOK AWAY!” Also, lots of HONESTY.

#On writing #writing #new mom #babycoworker

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fortheloveofcringe · 4 years

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September 25,2020; 11:38 p.m. “A severe case from the introspective saboteur”

I started this year reading a bunch of self-help books under the assumption that I had to be fixed and something was wrong with me.

I though I was going to go crazy this year. There was so much adversity from internal to external and I was just waiting for that moment when I finally snap. Where I lose control of my narratives and just become completely unhinged.

The most challenging part of 2020 was not to drown myself with the thoughts I have with my head. That there was someway not to evade the thinking but there was a way to structure my thoughts to make sense of everything compared to just loathing every conceived idea, bad or good.

I felt like I had the privilege to do this. Some don’t, and this essay isn’t formed in a way where I want you to think that you might be doing something wrong because you haven’t conceived the ideas by yourself. I have been through that rabbit hole and all I can say is, let’s all be thankful that we can think, but sometimes the very thoughts we have stop us from accepting the truth of ourselves and others.

My mission was simple. Figure out where everything was stemming from. Understand why it occurs from time to time and then if possible, cut the roots.

I devoted a sincere amount of time to trace where my actions where coming from, first. The things I talk about, the videos I share and upload, the photos I post, my performance and art pieces, my conversations and interactions with other people, and my conversations and interactions with myself.

It’s a crippling puzzle piece. To trace the pedigree of what makes Hambert the Hambert that you know, then realizing the Hambert that I know and the Hambert that isn’t. I realize this account is actually important but at the same time not something to be stressed out about.

“Who am I?”

“What’s my Identity?”

I had to understand myself first. The question of who am I was very simple to answer. I would go through a day where I would list down the things that were obvious about me. Things that I love and the things that keep me going.

I would list down facts that I know within me without listening to the auditorium of people in my head that formed a probable baseless description of who I was. And that assumption was that I was a “loving” and “caring” person.

The fact scared me. I wasn’t either of those two. I was not loving nor caring. I was a robot programmed to be “nice.”

Although this may sound self-deprecating, I clearly understood the separation between those words. Nice isn’t always pure. Loving and Caring can be harsh. The awareness opened a door of growth.

The thing about me is that I am always self-conscious about how I play a role in the scene of my daily life. The villain role has been my role for years. I was either an asshole for my honesty or a manipulative monster as people would call me. I hated these words. I assume these words were born out of the fact that I always had the truth in my tongue and no one could endure hearing it. People loved lies and niceties.

And I craved acceptance.

I went around my country in my early 20’s hoping to understand people more. In Manila, people were more acclimated to those who know how to portray a role in society, it was like being in a baseball field with tall buildings and traffic and people like you better if you speak and project yourself in a certain elevated way. In Cebu, people were more acclimated to those who are true to themselves because it is exhausting to be around people who pretend. Ultimately what I realized is that practically no one cared if you are or you are not who you are. The energy you give in a space is what mattered.

In my hometown, it’s a combination of both. When you’re in a province, you have to act like a Canadian basically. Canadians are nice but distant people. Too much interaction could lead to you being the soup of the dinner gossip and not interacting at all would be the equivalent of being so incapable of social graces that you become a pariah.

I was confused. My orientation about the world was usually, I’m either one or another. I’m either good or bad. There was no mixture of anything, who am I was blurring out. Because I was either one of those two and most of the times I am the two. This is where I saw myself. I was human. As confused as everybody else.

I think one of the most profound lessons I got from travelling from a young age is that everybody is just meat, organs and bones with stories inside them. I think that’s the most grounding thing I understood, my ego can’t go big because I am meat and bones, I am capable of death and decay, when you die you sort of float around in terms of lingering tales of who we were on Earth. We are tales, the limiting limitless. Even the biggest stars decay. The smallest particle decay. So it really doesn’t matter who you are in society. The role you play is for you to decide. It’s for your energy to decide. Ability will decide and ultimately, you have the choice to let it be influenced by those around you.

Influence was a major chess piece in my identity. From the things and people I hated and loved. There was always a review about it or a whisper from a friend that informed me of how I was to choose whether to like something or not. My identity was built by the endless likes and comments that I got from a post. The first photo I see on my newsfeed. The products under my online cart. The men I swiped right to. It was always a proposition. Always a suggestion by something other than me.

I hated it. It made me ailing to my stomach. Knowing my identity was built not by the things I myself chose but by things that was offered to me by the moment they present themselves. In some level, sure, it could have been my choice, but man do I whisper things to myself when I realized I have never in my life chose for myself. It was like I was a puppet of the opinions of others on which choices were assumed most excellent, what I should be, better, and what I should associate myself with, only the best. This truly made me lose it.

I had to step back.

I had to stop anything that might influence me.

Anything that would make me not think for myself.

It was even getting harder to do things. When I thought of this ideology, I also started questioning the intentions of what I do. Do I it for myself? or is there someone other than me that I am trying to leave a good impression with. All my life I felt like I was buying the goodwill of others by being some sort of idiotic pleasant mannequin. This, once again made me unravel. It made detest parts of myself even more.

What was I suppose to do now?

All I knew my entire life was to please people. All I know is I wouldn’t survive if I isolate myself, my psychiatrist told me this. The world is truly unkind to those who choose the path of becoming self-possessed. The moment you choose for yourself is the moment you become a monster in the eyes of many. But is this of any importance? to value those who are behind me in knowing myself?

I have to say most of the times I was all alone, not because I chose to be alone, but because even with a bunch of people around me, there was no one else who could fathom the depths of my thoughts as I do to myself. No one could understand it. Sometimes it will be coated by toxic positivity, even be shrugged off by those who I chose to hopefully comprehend the ambiguity that I am. But no one knows the riddle but me. When I communicate, I usually just get disappointed, even with therapists, because people only want to hear what they want to hear. They cluster out information based on what appeals to them. Even the Mormons who I thought would be very open about discussing life has limited comprehension. Everything else is white noise to those who have already painted a poem in their head.

I didn’t exactly know what to do anymore. It felt like driving a car with it’s brakes malfunctioning as you hit a brick wall.

I arrived at a point where nothing excited me. Not anything that I used to find joy with, brings me out of the door. I think the most depressing part was when I realized that when I age each year, even when I try to make something remarkable out of my life, soon enough, after I’m gone from the surface of this giant floating rock in space, it will be worthless because, it will just disappear, the world itself will either burn or those who carry the stories will never make it out of this planet. I keep thinking about the end of time and the inevitable oblivion. Like it’s close to my face. It really all is futile.

The stasis began in the middle of the pandemic. The second wave was much worse. Everyone was believing it was all a hoax which then exposed themselves to the risks without an afterthought. Everyone I knew was suffocating from my usual.

I’m glad I trained myself to be properly alone.

I keep thinking about the nights when I was trying to make sense of what I was realizing before me. I felt that my mind is currently undergoing a transmutation and that I had no one but myself to unload all of my discoveries.

The books I was suddenly reading. The symbols in my dreams and in my waking life. The music, the stories, the myths and the psychological research I was exposed to. I keep on wondering why things were suddenly approaching me. Not is a suggestive way but as if the golden pail to my vast waters of thought was suddenly appearing in my hands.

I see them scattered in my head.

Now the pail is present.

I imagine pouring everything slowly.

The first drops. I’ll begin by stating that in fourth grade, I remember the elated feeling I had when it was time to discuss science, specially when the topic was about the solar system and the planetary compositions of each planet. I started making sense of why my fascinations with space tickled my brain. I longed for the adventure that I might experience. In my mind I could travel to those fields of blue or red, glide on the rings. Hold the stars in my hands and swim through the vastness of the unknown.

Planets were named after mythological Gods and Goddesses. By the time I was in high school, I was always left alone in our apartment by afternoon. I remember my classes were conducted from 6 a.m. to 12 noon. So by the afternoon, I was buzzing from knowledge and wanted more. My mother and I had a recent conversation about how she intentionally created a small library of books back then when I was in my sophomore year. She said besides the role of being a solo parent hindering her to not be able to properly coach us with literacy, it was also in her will to allow us to discover things on our own. My 1 o’clock to dinnertime was composed of 3 things, music, examining my emotions, and then the best part, reading books.

They took me to adventures where my physical plane felt but no consequence was to be faced. It was like being God. To foresee, to advance to the last page or not. To know the ending or not. To start a new venture by opening a page. Live a life of another without actually living it. Pausing, feeling, amusing, thinking and then dreaming.

The Greek and Egyptians were most fragrant to me. The gold in the tombs made me think about design and intention of design. The sculptures of Greek bodies made me think of beauty and the meaning of symbols. I also had a deep romance with horror stories. I love how they made my hair raise. I love the twists and turns, the blood and the ghosts. The moral that life can end at any point.

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jonathanleesink · 6 years

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A Year and a Day

Originally posted on March 10, 2017

“This is going to be refreshing…I can already tell; similar to slicing into a freshly harvested vegetable. Fresh, clean, wholesome, and healthy.”

These were the very first words I wrote on this blog on May 30th last year. I have been writing for nine months. I have been sharing my most personal and vulnerable thoughts, struggles, and triumphs. I have confessed my struggles with drinking. I have shared why I chose to change my lifestyle. I have told you about my anxious personality and my spirituality. This has been an enlightening journey for me. I have been honest and scared to death. I have also felt empowered and bravery like I never knew existed. I have been asked why I have shared this part of my life so publicly. In the simplest terms I write this blog for two reasons. One, for myself. I write to document this ambitious change in my life, and to hold myself accountable to my commitment. This blog is monumental to my recovery process. The other reason I write is for anyone who may benefit in any way from what I write. I have learned people respect honesty. Like myself, everyone has their own personal struggles. But the personal struggles everyone has, it is very likely someone you know struggles with the same thing. The most rewarding experience from this whole thing is when someone makes a point to tell me they enjoyed my writing, or that my story has inspired them to take the first step of their own journey. That is what this is all about. When people use their talents to help other people…that is what defines purpose.

Yesterday…March 9, 2017.

Yesterday was day three-hundred and sixty-five of my sober lifestyle. One year without a drop of alcohol. It also marks one year of living vegetarian. No meat, no booze, one year. Amazing.

I was told just the other day from a friend that they want to give up alcohol too, but that they just don’t see how it is possible. I used to feel that way too. Once I had the realization that I wanted to love myself more than the currently trending pale ale, I had my moment of clarity. My vision for myself was crystal clear, and the motivation to make a change was significant. Making the decision is the relatively easy part. It is the commitment to yourself and to follow through with the decision which proves to be the most difficult. But now, a year later, I am truly proud of myself.

This journey has been eye-opening to me on the societal norms of drinking alcohol. I went through a period where I was silently disgusted with the beer and alcohol industries. I have always made a conscience effort to not preach my thoughts to my readers. I wanted to share my story, and that’s it. The last few months I have backed off from my strong opinions on the drinking culture. I am realizing that alcohol is not really a bad thing by itself. It was when I paired my addictive personality with alcohol is when it became a bad thing. There are so many people who can drink beer or a glass of wine without it becoming a habitual behavior. We are all our own people who must make our own decisions and take responsibility for our actions. What’s best for me, may not be best for you. And what you may be able to innocently enjoy, might not be so innocent for others…myself included. I know what’s best for me, and you know what’s best for you. Be brave, be honest, be you.

I have exposed myself through this blog. I have a hard time verbally talking to people about my vulnerabilities…I always have. Writing every few weeks has helped me more than you will ever know. So many have offered their support. I cannot thank you enough for that. It was a scary thing to put myself out there like I did. I was terrified that people would not want anything to do with me. I had heard that when someone stops drinking, they lose friends. The truth is you lose your drinking buddies. There are some people who I enjoy very much, but I just don’t see anymore because our socializing revolved around drinking beer. There are other people who I have considered very close at some point in my life who have not reached out to me at all to offer support. I understand that the topic of alcoholism, sobriety, and mental health are topics that not everyone is comfortable talking about, I get it. Then there have been the acquaintances, strangers, or old high school friends who made a point to reach out to offer encouraging words. That is amazing. They have no obligation to me at all, yet they have been remarkable supporters. Again, thank you.

In my very first writing, I not only claimed my sobriety, but also made a declaration to be my true self…always. I had spent years dealing with self-esteem and self-doubt issues, and somewhat hiding who I wanted to be. This has been a very liberating experience. I am a changed person. There is no more self-medicating my anxiety, or drinking my way into social comfortableness. I am now dealing with my anxious personality head on with a clear mind, and learning that it is perfectly okay to have an introverted personality. I have become an advocate for embracing your identity, and who you truly are. When you tear down the bullshit facade of doing stuff for the sake of pleasing others, you become liberated and free. I now understand that I only have control over myself, and that I am the only one who can truly make myself happy. Shit happens to all of us, and I used to grab a sixer to deal with it. Now I have an ever-increasing amount of tools to help process life’s complications. I have learned that being honest with myself is a powerful tool. I spent years in denial that I was dependent on alcohol. Once I realized that truth for myself, positive change happened immediately. Finally, I now know that I had to be brave to achieve a year of sobriety. I had to be brave to not fall into temptation, and I had to be brave to share my story with you. Successful sobriety is not for the weak. You have to want it, you have to have the strength to endure it, and you have to fight for it everyday.

People love reading lists. So, here are 9 things I have either learned or that have happened to me over the last year.

1. You don’t need alcohol to have fun! - This isn’t an immediate realization, but once you get over the hump it is an enlightening moment.

2. There are a lot of other people who are either non-drinkers, or are wanting to make that change. - Once I started writing, people came out of the woodwork to share their stories with me. It felt awesome to have people I could connect with.

3. When you quit drinking your body changes effortlessly. - Not only did I lose excess weight when I removed those empty calories, I also woke up every morning without a hangover, with more energy, and the quality of my sleep improved greatly.

4. I gave myself a pay raise! - I wrote about the financial aspect of my habit a couple months ago. I have saved about $1,800, which is a pretty nice annual bonus.

5. My creativity shot through the roof. - I started writing this blog. Who knew I would enjoy writing? It was a complete shock to myself. My musicianship has improved and I just feel more open to creative possibilities. My playing before felt like I was in a box with limits to my abilities.

6. I bought a BMX bike. - This was an early birthday present to myself. I even built a sweet ramp, and go to skateparks with it…at 40 years old.

7. I went on two amazing vacations. - I visited New York City for the first time, and I went backpacking in the mountains of West Virginia. Both of them completely sober.

8. I am in the best shape of my life. - Instead of sitting on the couch every night drinking a handful of beers. I choose to ride bikes, run a few miles, or even lift weights.

9. I have been to some amazing shows in the last year. I have been to MCA Day in NYC, I have seen Brian Fallon, Bad Religion, Against Me!, Henry Rollins, The Interrupters, and the Dropkick Murphy’s without a drink in my hand. The awesome thing about seeing shows sober is you get to remember every little detail; things I wouldn’t have picked up on if I had been drinking.

Thanks again for the support and kind words. I wish everyone good luck in whatever it is you want to achieve. Remember, you are worth it. You will likely see less writing on this blog in the next year. I have to make time to start my book. :) Peace!

#sobriety #cleanliving #straightedge #xvx #vegan

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