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shreddedparchment · 3 years

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A Wife for Thor Pt.15

Stressed

01/16/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,747

Warnings: angst, jealousy, anxiety, talks of pregnancy, conception troubles

A/N: I’m sorry this came so late and that it’s taking me time to get these out. I’m writing very slowly right now and I only have my brain to blame. I’m finding it so hard to focus right now and I’m not sure why. I’ve gotten away from my usual habit of writing when I wake up and before I go to sleep. Hopefully, I’ll get back to normal soon. I hope y’all like (hate?) this chapter! Things will start to get tough from here on out. I hope y’all will stick with me through it. xoxo

“Well, I’ve got to get back to my girls. Some of them have taken to sneaking out at night in an attempt to earn their wings. If I catch them, I get to make them do whatever I want and I’m not going to lie, it’s the best part of my day.”

Hilde smiles at you, and you try to give her a returning social exchange with the same energy but your mind and eyes keep drifting back to the astronomer across the room currently chatting with Bruce and Tony animatedly about something scientific that you don’t understand.

“Are you seriously stressing about her?” Hilde asks, exasperated with you already.

“No,” you answer with your feathers obviously ruffled. “I’m not.”

Hilde clearly doesn’t believe you as she skews her lips and tilts her head.

“I’m not!”

You say it too loudly and the trio on the other side of the table turn to look at you.

“Not what?” Tony asks, brow furrowed a little with curiosity.

“She’s not tired,” Hilde covers. “How about a tour from Her Majesty?”

“Uh, yeah, I can give you all a tour of the palace. It’s really big.”

“No,” Tony shakes his head. “No tour for me. As fun as following you around while you brag about how much bigger your house is than mine sounds, I just spent weeks in the trenches and I’m going to try and get some sleep or Pepper will ground me and won’t let me come out and play. So, I think, good night?”

“Right. Of course, yeah. Estrid?” You call out to the two large open doors.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Estrid hurries into view, giving you a quick curtsy before standing with her hands at her front.

“Can you show Mr. Stark-”

“Really?” he asks, incredulous.

“Sorry, habit,” you laugh nervously. “Can you show Tony to his room, please? And Bruce?”

“Uh, yeah. I’d love some sleep,” he nods, rubbing his chest with one hand in slow circles.

“And Bruce as well,” you nod to Estrid who gives you another curtsy.

They all begin to stand, shoving their chairs back in under the table and taking a last drink.

“And…” with odd trepidation, you look at your husband’s very recent former lover and try not to feel too overwhelmed. “Jane?”

“No, actually I was hoping I could speak with you?”

She takes a step towards you, hands pulled to her front as she fidgets with the tips of her fingers for a second then drops them at her sides.

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Thank you, Estrid. When you’ve escorted the gentlemen to their rooms, come find me so that you can show Jane hers when she’s ready.”

“Very good, Your Majesty,” Estrid nods, another curtsy before she turns to Bruce and Tony who now look nervous too as they give you and then Jane inquisitive looks. “This way, gentlemen.”

As Estrid disappears into the hallway, Tony and Bruce follow slowly leaving you, Hilde, and Jane to stand awkwardly in the smaller of the two dining rooms in the palace.

“Should I stay?” Hilde wonders, inching a little closer to you and reaching out to grab your elbow.

“Hm? No. It’s okay. But if you’re going-?”

“Your Majesty,” Heimdall’s warm voice fills the space strangely washing over you with a soothing calm.

Something about Heimdall always makes you feel at ease and the night suddenly seems very bearable.

“Heimdall will be taking over your care until Thor returns, is that alright?” Hilde checks, sounding genuinely worried.

“Will I do, Your Majesty?” Heimdall asks, his voice a gentle teasing.

“Of course, Heimdall!” your huff of a laugh pulls from him a gentle chuckle and he moves around towards you to draw your hand up to his lips.

It’s a genuine sign of respect and it warms your heart.

“Alright, well, I’m off. I will see you tomorrow, Your Majesty. Jane.” Hilde gives her a nod and quickly slides from the room eager to catch her troops out of bed.

Heimdall makes his way towards Jane and as she turns to him, she smiles wide, “Heimdall, it’s so nice to see you again.”

“Jane Foster,” he says her name in full though it doesn’t sound as if he’s being formal.

In fact, they sound pretty close.

“It has been quite a while.” They hug and your heart gives a strange uncertain clench. “How are you?”

“I’m good, all things considered,” Jane says.

All things considered? What things considered?

“Yes, well…” Heimdall leaves his words hanging there, full of meaning that you don’t understand and suddenly the warmth his greeting had left you with is gone and in its place is a sense of intrusion.

Jane was the Queen they had all been expecting. Suddenly feeling dismal, you turn away from their reunion to fill up your fancy silver cup with wine and take a nice long drink.

Without turning back around to look at her because in the moment you can’t really bear it, you address her and hope that your voice doesn’t give you away.

“What was it that you wanted to speak to me about, Jane?”

Hopefully it has nothing to do with Thor or you might just lose your head a little. While a part of you would very much like to bury the hatchet and put everything that happened with her and Thor in the past behind you, in this moment, the last thing you want to do is talk about how she is or was the love of his life.

That you know, right?

This is all so fucked.

“I was actually just wondering if you had a space that I could set up my equipment? Somewhere with clear access to the sky is preferable, and lots of space? I’ll need to set up my equipment to show Thor--and yourself what I’ve been seeing the last few months.”

You can hear it in her voice that she added you as an afterthought. She came to show Thor. To see him?

You hate this sudden insecurity growing inside of you, this second guessing that didn’t even exist until she walked into your home tonight.

Are you thinking too much? Is this wrong of you? Thor is your husband. He loves you. He says it every day. Several times a day because he knows you need to hear it. He physically shows you, also several times a day if he can. Just today, in the hallway downstairs…

“Your Majesty?” Heimdall prompts, pulling you from your thoughts.

You dismiss his concern without acknowledging it because it’s in his all-seeing eyes. Instead, you focus on Jane.

“I have the perfect space. It’s a bit of a walk. I mean, it’s still on palace grounds, just a bit further up the hill behind us. But it’s an observation tower Loki was having built probably for this exact reason.”

“Perfect,” she smiles, then moves to her chair to pick up a large brown bag you hadn’t noticed she’d brought in here with her. “After you?”

Heimdall follows behind the two of you and Jane follows a step behind as you lead her out of the palace back entrance which is hidden behind a smaller room behind the throne room.

The night is chilly and you wrap your arms around yourself and regret the shorter choice of dress.

Jane also seems to shiver for a moment but her own clothes are more tailored to the weather outside than yours is. Her shiver passes.

“Do you enjoy living here?” she asks.

For a moment you don’t realize she’s talking to you, then when no one else answers, you start and quickly clear your throat.

“Yes, I do. I mean, it’s cold a lot. I’ll be glad when Summer’s here. Spring is also kind of on the chillier side.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, as if she’s been here often.

The silence after her affirmation grows tense and your heart begins to pound as your mind goes into a flurry of what she might have gotten up to here in New Asgard before you’d come into the picture.

Warmth suddenly envelops you and you turn to look at Heimdall as he places his dark cloak over your shoulders.

“Thank you, Heimdall,” you gasp, reaching up to pull the cloak around yourself more tightly.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Heimdall nods, “It’s my honor.”

The terrain suddenly grows more rugged and Heimdall is quick to offer you his arm as you adjust your steps to accommodate the rockier path.

You make a mental note to have this pathway fixed. Smoothed out and maybe even given a railing as it gets steeper.

The only thing you can hear is the sound of three pairs of feet trudging along shifting stone and dirt then a softer step as the hill evens out a bit more and becomes covered in grass.

When you don’t have to look down at where you’re stepping anymore, you look up at the tower that looms ahead.

The base is made of heavy stone, each placed with precision and reinforced with steel supports. Wooden beams line each of the corners, decorated with carved images of what you can only assume are Asgardian moments in history.

When you’d come to see its progress at the beginning of its creation, you’d recognized the images of Thor and Odin in battle just above the beam that lines the doorway.

The rest of the tower is a mix of wood, stone, and iron. The aesthetic is very much like the palace, Asgardian curves and shapes fit into more modern Norse lines.

The three of you stop as you reach it and Heimdall hurries forward to throw the large door open.

As you step through, you see that the inside of the tower has not changed much since the last time you came to inspect it.

The bottom floor is a large empty room with only a fireplace against the back wall, exposed rafters up above before the height is cut short by the ceiling.

“Wow,” Jane does sound impressed, “This is great. Is there a-?”

“Upstairs,” you point towards the staircase to the right that rises up around the side of the room. “There’s another room, smaller, but it has a lot of balcony space.”

“Great! Thanks,” she sighs with relief as if she really didn’t expect you to give her some space to work, then heads towards the staircase.

“Um, there’s no furniture in here yet. I’ll have someone bring you some tables and chairs, is there anything more specific that you need?”

Jane stops at the foot of the stairs then turns to look at you and then the space of the bottom floor.

“Would it be possible to get a bed in here? You’re right, and it is a long way from the palace. I’m gonna be in here probably all the time so…?”

You know that she isn’t asking for the impossible or anything out of the question, but suddenly the idea of making this tower her little space has a whole other life playing out in your head.

A life where you had married Thor and he had been unable to give up Jane. A life of her living here at the palace with you in her own space where Thor can come and be with her in private away from prying eyes while still giving the appearance of being with you, his Queen in name only.

“Your Majesty?” Heimdall prompts you quietly, reaching out to touch your elbow again and pull you from the pain and panic you’re trying to hide.

You force a smile, a small shake of your head, “Yes, of course. Sorry, I’ve had a busy day. I’ll have them bring you everything you need within the hour.”

“Thank you. Once I have everything set up I’ll make sure to show you what I’ve found and then Thor can um, plan for what might come?”

“Of course,” you agree, eager to get the hell out of here and back to your room where you can fall apart in private. “Now, I hope you’ll excuse my bad hosting skills, but I really am super tired and I think I’m going to turn in a little early.”

“Oh, yeah, sure! No problem at all,” Jane smiles, “Thank you for all your help. And dinner! Dinner was so good. Thanks.”

“My pleasure. I’ll let Cook know,” you nod, hoping that your smile isn’t too tense for the moment. “Good night.”

“Night!”

You’re almost grateful for the cold night air as it bites the skin of your cheeks. Anything is better than the stress you just felt in that tower.

You hear the heavy door of the tower close behind you, then Heimdall’s footsteps join your own though your heavy breathing is alone as he walks calmly beside you.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Heimdall wonders, gentle and honestly concerned.

“I’m fine,” You lie.

“Does having Jane Foster here bother you? There is no need for you to worry. I have seen Thor be with many women-”

“Oh, my God,” and you can’t help but huff a laugh. “Not helping, Heimdall.”

“-and I have never seen him be with anyone the way he is with you. It’s more than just love. It's a partnership. Companionship. It’s friendship. Trust. After their initial reconnection, Thor’s trust in Jane and their courtship dwindled and as you know, by the end, it was completely gone.”

“So, what you’re saying is he’s so sure that I love him that he has no reason to worry?”

Which is true, you do and he has no reason to worry about you not loving him or falling for someone else at this point. You can’t even imagine being with anyone the way you’ve been with Thor.

“He’s not afraid to lose me?” You hate giving into these thoughts.

Honestly though, talking about them to someone will help you sleep tonight. Maybe.

“Yes,” Heimdall agrees. “And no. Even now, this very moment, all he can think of is you.”

You stop walking, stunned by his words because you’ve never asked him to look for you. You’ve heard Thor ask him to see things before, to search, and Heimdall always has. It had never crossed your mind to do the same.

Then again, this is the first time you and Thor have been apart since before you were married.

“What-You can see him?” Heimdall looks down at your feet, focuses what must be his mental eyes, and then slowly nods.

“He’s distressed at leaving you here alone, he’s finding it hard to focus on what Fandral is telling him and Fandral is growing more and more upset.”

You smile, completely absorbed by this information.

“Did he ever ask you to look for her? For Jane?”

Your words are quiet, hesitant, though your heart feels slightly more at ease by Heimdall’s reassurance.

“In the very beginning of their courtship, just after he left Earth and the bifrost was destroyed. Their love was new then. It was short-lived. Then Thor came back to Earth and they were able to be together, for a time.

“But their compatibility has always had its trials. After some time together, Thor was called back to the Universe and Jane had her own work to do. Their responsibilities have always pulled them apart and if I’m honest, Thor is the more hopeless romantic between them.”

You think about all of the small things that Thor has done for you since you came back home. The flowers, the baths, surprise dinners, the small presents hidden under your pillow or in drawers he knows you’ll get into. He’s done a lot more to show you he’s thinking about you during the day than you have and you can understand what Heimdall is saying.

You’re not so much a gift giver in love it seems, and instead give him all of the affection he’d seemed so starved for in the beginning.

“Her being here will not damage your marriage. Trust me.” Heimdall finishes.

You lead the walk again, moving slower but calmer after Heimdall’s reassurance.

“Will you come back up and check that Jane gets everything she needs? We really should have had the tower set up a long time ago.”

“As soon as I am certain you are in your quarters safe, with a guard outside your door, yes. I can ensure that she has everything that she requires.”

For a few minutes you walk in silence, at ease. When you reach the back doors of the palace however and he holds the doors open for you, you turn to Heimdall and after a quick bite to your lip, “Is he still with Fandral?”

Heimdall smiles and nods, “Fandral is yelling at him for not paying attention.”

Both of you laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s so early when you wake. It’s still dark outside and you’re almost sure that sunrise is still a few hours away.

You’re exhausted. Eyes burning as you push yourself up and the night plays itself over.

So suddenly you’re anxious again, nerves making your fingertips tingle and your stomach do an uncomfortable flip as you turn over onto your back to look at Thor’s side of the bed.

It’s undisturbed. Both pillows are still in their made up position.

He said he’d be back very late at night, early morning at the latest. You’d been hoping for the former.

With a groan, you sit up, sliding slowly down to the end of the bed and the bench where Thor sits to put his boots on.

You’re so groggy. The night was restless and you’ve really only gotten about an hour of sleep. Two at the most.

It’s stuffy in the room, the fire still burning and leaving you a little sticky from being huddled underneath a heavy blanket because you’d missed the weight of Thor’s arms all night.

The large glass doors across from you rattle from the wintry breeze outside, beckoning you forward for relief from this heat.

As you step on the floor, your body is rocked with a shiver that pushes you up onto your toes. As fancy as this palace is, you’ll have to ask Thor if it’s possible to get some heated floors installed.

Moving as quickly as you can, you don’t stop until you’re at the doors and then thrust them open and absolutely inhale the frigid late night air.

You scan the distant ocean as it spreads into the horizon, the sky it touches still an inky black with a breathtaking scattering of stars.

You can hear the Valkyrie below in their barracks and training grounds already working hard to get into shape. Hilde must have really caught them sneaking out.

Heimdall should be waiting close by. You really want to see if he has news about Thor’s schedule and if maybe he’s on his way home and just running late.

As you turn to walk back into the room, you freeze as your eyes scan the tower you’d set Jane up in.

From this angle you have a clear view of the balcony. She’s already set up her equipment. You didn’t know that you could see this well into the tower.

It’s all lit up like a beacon in the dark.

It’s an unpleasant reminder that she’s here and you make a mental note to keep the curtains drawn when you know she’s up there. Which you realize that unfortunately, will probably mean all the time.

Sighing, you move towards the door but then freeze again as Thor moves from the balcony doorway towards a large telescope attached to what looks like heavily modified computers.

He’s still in uniform, smiling. Behind him, Jane follows, arms wrapped around herself before she stops too close to Thor for your liking.

She rushes around him and looks through the eyepiece. You can see her talking away, mouth moving at the speed of light as she explains something to him, her hands flying around her as she talks, apparently the cold is forgotten.

She pulls away from the telescope as Thor chuckles then moves back inside out of sight as Thor sidles up to the eyepiece but doesn’t touch it yet.

The telescope moves, clearly Jane adjusting it from inside where she must have set up her computer equipment.

Thor takes a step back then the telescope stops and Jane flutters back out onto the balcony and gestures for Thor to look through.

He does, Jane moves in beside him, saying something that must be a whisper if she’s standing that close. He says something back.

The two of them having a pleasant conversation.

The clench in your chest feels choking.

Thor pulls back from the eyepiece and turns to look at her.

He’s too far away for you to see his expression, too small. But their faces are so close and he doesn’t pull away.

You sink back into your room, terrified to see something that will ruin the perfect bliss you’ve been in these first three months of your marriage.

Not that it isn’t already ruined. You’ve been a mess since Jane showed her face and now with what you just saw, how can you feel anything but lousy?

You don’t do what you want to do. You don’t slink back into bed and hide under the covers to wallow.

Instead you move to your closet and look for a dignified dress. Something that you can wear that will scream Queen of New Asgard but also be relaxed enough for you to work in.

You choose something with a simple cut. Long sleeves, a deep V in the front, with a loose flowing skirt but a tight bodice to match the equally tight sleeves. The color is an iridescent black that shimmers in teal and startling pink.

The color reminds you of the northern lights with a splash of the hazy pink in the orion nebula. It’s beautiful and otherworldly, and it screams Queen of Asgard in casual formal.

With the dress you move back into the room and hang it on the small stand in front of the full length mirror by your vanity before grabbing some new underwear and moving into the bath.

You ignore the large tub you and Thor have spent hours upon hours in and quickly shower instead. You emerge fresh and clean, though not exactly refreshed.

You’re stepping out of the shower when your bedroom doors open and you freeze, staring at them as they swing forward with your hands pressed to the top of your towel holding it shut.

Your heart drops when Estrid smiles prettily at you, turning around to close the doors as she greets you.

“Good morning, Your Majesty, did you sleep well?” She moves straight for your vanity to pull out the brush, pins, and makeup she usually uses on you in the morning.

She’s in here much earlier than normal and she can’t have gotten that much sleep herself. She’s so attuned to you now that you’re worried for her but also grateful.

“Good morning, Estrid,” you reply, refusing to answer her question because she’d only worry. “Did Ms. Foster get all of the things she needed in the tower?”

“Yes, m’am. Heimdall made sure that she had everything she would need for her research before he retired to stand guard at your door.”

You have an endless stream of questions about Thor in your head, things you want to ask Estrid but you bite your tongue as Estrid helps you on with your dress then sits you down at your vanity to dry your hair and work on today’s set of braids.

Time passes as she works. Time that feels like seconds to you as your mind works hard to try and reassure your heart that you have nothing to worry about, and yet, it still aches.

“You’re very quiet this morning, Your Majesty,” she observes.

“Yeah. I don’t really feel like talking unless I have to.”

“Very well, Your Majesty,” she accepts, but then after a few minutes of silence. “Are you not feeling well? Shall I send for the doctor?”

“No, Estrid. I’m not sick. I’m-shit, what’s the date today?”

Reaching around, you look for your phone to check the date.

“‘Tis the fifteenth, Your Majesty,” Estrid informs you.

“Did you forget about me already?” A deep smooth voice slides in from your doorway and you turn in search of the comfort the tone gives you.

“David!”

On your feet and across the room, David greets you with open arms. A small firm hug is what he gives you before kissing the side of your head and then pushing you back to look at you.

His eyes linger on your stomach for a moment before he frowns playfully.

“Nothing yet? I guess we’ll find out today if we’re to expect anything in the next month.”

“No pressure,” you reply sarcastically.

David chuckles, his fancy four piece navy suit a display of his busy nature. As much as he wants to visit, you know that he’s busier now with so many people wanting his services. The prestige of being the Queen of New Asgard’s lawyer has brought him a windfall.

Not that he needs it, but he appreciates the work.

“I did forget we had a testing today. Something happened yesterday.”

Your voice filters into a whisper at the end, though you’re not even aware of it.

David matches your energy, though he doesn’t whisper, he recognizes your stress and concern saturates his entire person.

“What’s happened?”

“I-” You look towards Estrid, and she’s so good that she’s cleaning your vanity, ignoring your conversation as best she can, but still. “Estrid, were you finished with my hair?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she turns to you and smiles. “Will you be needing anything else? Breakfast in the breakfast room?”

“Are you hungry, David?”

“No, I’m not. Thank you.”

“No breakfast, Estrid. Thank you. When the doctor arrives, can you show him in?”

Estrid curtsies, and without another word, she leaves you and David in the room.

“You look beautiful today, by the way,” David tells you as he moves towards the small table in the corner to sit but waits for you to reach your chair first to pull it out for you.

“Thanks, I chose it very carefully,” you admit. “Does it make me look like a real Queen?”

“You are a real Queen,” David assures you, then cocks his head as he registers your stress again. “What happened last night?”

You sigh heavily, using your nails to pick at the woodgrain of the table, shoulders slouched a little as you deflate.

“Jane showed up with Tony and Bruce,” you reveal, a shaky breath accompanying your desperate information.

“Oh? At Thor’s invitation?” David wonders, which honestly sobers you up a little from your depression.

“No. I don’t think so. I mean, Tony and Bruce were supposed to come to install a security system for the palace and I guess maybe she just tagged along?”

“And you are upset that your husband’s former lover has forced her way into your new home.”

It’s not a question. David has always been very observant and he sucks for it. Jerk.

“Well...yeah. But that’s not why-”

“Something else happened?”

David leans towards you and places his hand over yours, a soft knowing look on your surrogate father’s face.

With a quick little sigh you tell him about your stress over not getting pregnant and the pressures from the ambassadors to do that before more time goes by to secure the ties between the Asgardians to Earth. You tell him about your worries about Jane that have died down a little since you and Thor got married but have never truly gone away. Lastly, you tell him about what you saw this morning and how you’d been expecting Thor to come directly to you when he got back but clearly that’s not happening.

“Maybe I’m being too sensitive? But I mean, it’s been what? An hour and a half since you got here and he still hasn’t come to look for me?”

You reach over and rub your arm, the soft fabric of your dress pleasing but only in the back of your mind where you’re not thinking about Thor and Jane.

“If that is how you feel, then that is how you feel. The important part now is talking to Thor about it. Couples lose out when they feel about something the way that they do and then keep it to themselves. Even Gods are not mind readers.”

David tilts his head, eyes looking across the room for a moment before he looks right back at you.

“At least not to my knowledge.”

You almost smile, but the stress of talking to Thor about this is giving your anxiety a nice boost.

“What if I don’t like what he says?”

“Then you don’t like it. You cannot avoid the confrontation because you might not hear what you want to hear. That is not how a marriage, or any relationship works. In big moments like these, honesty I think is the best policy.”

He’s right of course. You know he is. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

You close your eyes and try to see Thor’s handsome face smiling sweetly at you, just as he had yesterday before he left. Instead you see him smiling down at Jane next to that stupid telescope, him chuckling at whatever she’s saying as she talks away about her work.

Two knocks to your door pull you from your stupid thoughts and drop your heart into the pit of your stomach, but Estrid peeks in to make sure that you’re okay to see her.

Suddenly, you’re dreading seeing Thor.

“Come in, Estrid.”

She moves in, behind her follows two doctors. One is a woman with a lovely heart shaped face and long full dark brown hair that compliments her olive skin. She’s wearing a sleek gray pantsuit, pink camisole underneath, and a thick black coat draped over her arm.

Her name is Amana Wilson and she has been your gynecologist since David gave you your inheritance and you were able to afford better healthcare.

The second doctor is an older man with a thick black beard streaked through with bits of gray. He glows an almost ethereal way. Clearly Asgardian. Your general caregiver since you moved to New Asgard, Doctor Alric Orvinson smiles eagerly, kindly, a pure excitement radiating off of him.

He’s always so eager to put everything he’s learning into practice.

Doctor Wilson curtsies and Doctor Alric bows before they both greet you in unison.

“Your Majesty,” they say.

David waits until you’re standing before he stands too, but then he moves towards the doors.

“I think I’ll go have some of that breakfast you offered me,” he tells you then makes his way towards the large doors. “Doctors, I know you will give Her Majesty the best care you can offer?”

“Of course,” Doctor Wilson assures him and he leaves you with a quick wink of his eye.

“Thank you, Estrid. Make sure David gets a proper meal? No pop tarts!”

“Party pooper!” David shouts back.

Estrid curtsies, “Right away, Your Majesty.”

She leaves you quickly with a chuckle in her throat at your exchange with David.

As the door closes, you take a step towards your doctors and slowly release a held breath.

“So, what will it be today? Should I go strip or…?”

“No. Not today. Since we did a physical on you last time, we won’t worry about that during this visit,” Doctor Wilson assures you.

“Today, Doctor Wilson will be watching me take some blood and perform a pregnancy test to see if you are expecting our heir!”

Our heir?

New Asgard sees the future prince or princess to come as their own. It’s not just your and Thor’s baby. This baby, if and when there is a baby, is an entire people’s baby.

You feel your anxiety rise again. Clenching your hands, you nod and force a smile as Doctor Alric moves towards you with a large metallic box that he places down and opens.

Inside comes a rush of cold air and what looks like medical equipment used to test blood. You don’t know what it’s called and it’s super high tech. Nothing that you’ve ever seen before.

Your two tests before had been sent to labs and then you’d received the results a few days later, if they’re testing the blood here, does that mean faster results?

“So, how long will I have to wait this time then? To know whether I’m doing my job or not?”

Doctor Alric looks up at you with slight surprise and worry.

There must be something in your voice since he seems to realize what he’s said is putting pressure on you because he stands up straight and fixes his own suit jacket before speaking.

“Your Majesty,” he begins, but Doctor Wilson moves to stand beside you and places her hand on your shoulder.

“Within the hour. This is Stark tech, so it’ll be quick and accurate. Have you been stressing about getting pregnant?” She’s so much softer than Doctor Alric, but not because she’s a woman.

She just knows you better.

“Kinda hard not to with an entire planet waiting for it,” you admit. “Do you think that if-if it’s negative, should Thor and I stop trying so hard? We’re trying daily. No breaks.”

“I think the stress more than the trying will probably make it harder but you’re both healthy. It will happen. If you are tired and you think the stress is too much, then take a break. It won’t do any harm if you lose a couple nights of sleeping with your husband.”

You feel a swell of relief for this human woman who knows just what to say. You give her a sly smirk.

“Have you seen my husband? It’ll hurt.”

She laughs a quick knowing chuckle, “Trust me, you don’t gotta tell me how fine he is, Your Majesty.”

Both of you laugh a few seconds then you take the seat that Doctor Alric sets beside you and while you roll up your sleeve, he and Doctor Wilson fly off into medical jargon that you don’t understand and consequently zone out into thoughts of Thor and why the fuck he still hasn’t come to see you.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #a wife for thor #arranged marriage au #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x you #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #royal au #thor odinson x you

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patricia-von-arundel · 4 years

Text

The Happiest Place in Fódlan

@lysissisyl and I decided to try writing something together - kind of. We decided to take the same prompt, and see what each of us would do with it. Almost immediately after, @frozenartscapes wrote about her AU where Silver Snow!Edelgard unexpectedly appears in modern Fódlan (where Byleth is still alive), and I realized it would work perfectly for the prompt (which was randomly generated):

Edelgard and Byleth go to a fair/amusement park and Edelgard wants to go on the roller coaster and Byleth agrees. Later, Byleth regrets their decision and ends up clinging onto Edelgard for dear life. (Or reversed. Either would be funny!)

So… here’s my take on it! (I reversed it, for the record.) Let’s just assume that Walt Disney lived in Fódlan…

Rating: G (this is fluff on top of fluff)

A befuddling world. They called it “Fódlan,” but it might as well have been a different planet. She felt horribly unmoored, all control lost - and there were few things Edelgard despised more than losing control. Months had passed, and still the feeling lingered. More than lingered: at times, it seemed to throb like an infected tooth.

But worse still - not a throb, but a deep, constant ache - was that she had no understanding now, it seemed, of Byleth. Byleth was the same person, but also somehow, radically, painfully not. She had become another alien, part of this alien world. For her, enough time had passed that the wounds of battle - both physical and emotional - had been able to heal, and even the scars they left had faded. But for Edelgard… Physically, she had healed. But no healer could repair the turmoil within her skull.

Though Byleth claimed there were people now who could. “Therapists,” she said they were called - “like healers, but for your brain.” She had even offered to take Edelgard to one. But Edelgard had balked at the idea, quickly insisting there was no need.

Need, however, was ultimately irrelevant. The shameful truth - one which she tried to keep carefully hidden - was that in this new Fódlan, she found herself more and more terrified of leaving the confines of Byleth’s small apartment in Enbarr. Even it was filled with strange, frightening things, but at least there was a feeling there of a semblance of control. No cars barreling unexpectedly around a corner - and better still, no vans or trucks. No crash of boxes of cans being unloaded at a grocery store. No card-only payments signs, or men’s restroom versus women’s restroom, or a thousand different variants of coffee with strange, confusing names like latte and espresso.

But even the apartment could be strange and confusing. Beds and chairs seemed too soft, but tables - covered in lacquer, apparently - and other wooden things seemed much too hard, their surfaces unnaturally slick. The lights, at night, were far too bright and uniform: no dancing shadows cast by candle or fireplace. There was no fireplace at all!

The worse times, especially at the start, were when Byleth was not there. Edelgard said nothing of her fears, but she certainly had them. Then, she was left alone with a microwave, which could safely cook in some things, but not others. (As Edelgard had found out the first time she worked up the courage to try to use it, and was caught by Byleth just before putting one of those infernal cans inside - why wasn’t the point of them to also have a ready-to-use dish? It was the most obviously-practical thing about them!) She was left with a million strange buttons on a remote control that could turn on a television (which had fascinated her in concept, but not, in the end, in practice). She was left with a thermostat, which controlled the air conditioner. (Byleth insisted it was not magic, though it certainly still seemed like magic. Much appreciated magic; Enbarr had seemed hot to her as a child, but somehow was even more so now. Byleth had words for that, too: climate change.)

Edelgard had known great sorrows - most of her life had been filled with them. What she felt now, though, after all of the initial confusion, was sad. Sad in the obvious ways she would always have expected to be, after so many years of war and loss, but also, perhaps even more so, in a confusing, complicated, overwhelming kind of way. Everything about this world, and about herself in it… it all just felt wrong. She was the true alien, here. An alien in a land she had once ruled…

There was no empire now, and thus no emperor. There was only Edelgard.

A person she no longer remembered how to be.

Living with someone she no longer knew.

She who so prided herself on her ability to control her mind and body, so careful of all that she said, had caught herself frequently almost letting slip the words “my teacher” when speaking to Byleth. But Byleth was not - she never would be again. And it was ridiculous to wish it could be otherwise, ridiculous and selfish, and yet, knowing also she would likely never be as happy again a she had been at that time… it was hard.

Because she had been happy, as curious as it was to consider it. The strain of all she was forced to balance, the burden of secrets and lies: yes, all those things had been a part of her life then. But for the first time in a very long time, she had felt as if she was wresting back control of her own life - taking it from those who had destroyed so many, and so much, and claimed it had all been for her benefit. Her life would be hers again - and all of Fódlan a more peaceful, egalitarian land.

Then Byleth came.

There had been times, then, when she had not only been happy - she had been absolutely, utterly euphoric. Something about Byleth simply called to her heart, in some deep, beautiful, timeless way: whatever connected them had always been there, she had simply not yet been able to feel it. She could almost allow herself to believe Byleth, too, could feel it -

- Until it snapped.

She still had not asked Byleth about her decision, that day in the Holy Tomb. She knew it could not be avoided forever - and Byleth had already hinted at discussing it - but Edelgard was not yet ready for some truths. Again, she had to remind herself this was not unexpected: it had not been 850 years for her, as it had been for Byleth. It had not even been six months.

All of this turmoil and uncertainty and sadness swirled constantly within her, like some endless storm, but she kept it to herself, locked once more behind a mask - an invisible one, perhaps, but a mask of a sort nonetheless.

Except she had never been good at keeping her mask in place around Byleth.

“You’re sad, El.” She said it abruptly, over a shared breakfast of toasted scones and jam. Byleth was not as blunt as she had once been - nor as outwardly difficult to read - but traces of her old self still appeared. “Why?”

Normally, such moments were almost reassuring - echoes of a world Edelgard would never see again, proof that that world had existed, that she had not always been just an unmoored alien - but this one left her heart beating more quickly and her appetite abruptly vanished. Still, she spoke steadily: “I’m afraid I don’t know of what you speak. I feel no unusual sadness, my - Byleth.” Not an outright lie: this sadness was no longer unusual. It had hung over her for a very long time.

She wasn’t the only one aware of that, either: “I know. Because you’re sad all the time.”

Edelgard looked down, at her half-finished plate. “You’ve not lost the talent for looking right through people, have you?”

“Maybe not. But it’s important. Especially with you.”

“Especially with - ?” She couldn’t stop the surprise in her voice, nor the sudden, almost painful leap in her chest - even as she immediately fought it. It was because of her strange situation, not because Byleth shared the feelings Edelgard had fought for so long. The feelings she was fighting again now, when five years ago - centuries ago - she had believed she had finally bested them…

“I really want you to see a therapist when we get back, El. I’ll ask Flayn who she’d recommend. Please, El. Things are different now. They can help you.”

“Did you say… Flayn?”

“She’s a pediatric psychologist specializing in childhood trauma and PTSD. Uh - that’s post-traumatic stress disorder. Which you also almost certainly have…”

More new words, though these Edelgard rather doubted she would remember. “That is… not something that I had considered. Perhaps because I had also not considered that Flayn is now an adult…”

“She’s not so different, for all the time that’s passed. Still very kind. Still has to stop Seteth hovering. Still loves fish - I wish you’d been here to see her when the first sushi restaurant opened in Enbarr!”

“…Sushi?”

“I’ll take you for it sometime - it’s a little hard to describe.”

Edelgard nodded - most of the food of this new age was quite good. She liked pizza in particular, with the little round meats whose name she could never recall, and also veggie wraps and tacos. Her opinion on chicken nuggets was still indeterminate, but most of what Byleth had offered had been quite palatable.

Moving away from food - and Flayn - she said, “My tea- Byleth - you said… when we get back?”

Byleth grinned - still such a strange thing to see her do! “El,” she said, “we’re going on a little trip.”

“A… trip?”

“A trip. To the happiest place in Fódlan.”

The “happiest place in Fódlan” was also, happiest or not, somehow even more confusing than all the very confusing things Edelgard had had to face for the last few equally-confusing months.

She blinked. And blinked again - trying to process all that was before her now that they had finally gotten past the mob at the gates. (And past Byleth gently correcting her when she called the people in uniform “gatekeepers.” They were called ticket takers, except here, where they were cast members. Why had the name changed, Edelgard wondered, when they performed exactly the same function?)

“That’s a castle,” she finally said.

Byleth laughed. “Yes. It is a castle.”

“But I thought you said castle are no longer built? There certainly was not a castle like that here… before. I would remember a castle as curious as that one.”

“This is an exception. It’s not a real castle. Well - it is and it isn’t. It’s called Cinderella Castle. We’re having lunch there later, but we can go see it now, if you like.”

“What's a Cinderella?”

For a moment, Byleth looked pained. “Okay, that’s on me. I really should have thought to watch a whole lot of movies before booking this trip…”

Movies was a word Edelgard knew. She liked some of them, too. “Cinderella is a movie?”

“Several movies. It’s based on a fairytale - that’s, uh, a story that pops up again and again all over the world. Kind of like all the different versions of what happened with Nemesis and Seiros, only not about anything that actually happened. Does that make sense?”

Edelgard considered this, then nodded. “Is the Cinderella movie anything like Star Wars?” She had enjoyed Star Wars enough to watch it several times, though she understood very little of it. Ships simply could not fly in space, even if Byleeth said they actually could, albeit not in that manner. They also did not look anything like ships. And Byleth said lightsabers didn’t truly exist either, which was a disappointment. Still, though, Edelgard did like those movies. She disliked comedies. Comedies confused her.

“Uh… not very much, no,” Byleth said. “There’s a ton of Star Wars stuff here, though. We’ll see it later this week. If you want space, though…” Suddenly - unexpectedly - her face lit up. “You’ve never been on a rollercoaster!”

“A roller… what?”

“Hurry, before the line gets long! We’ll see the castle later. Come on!”

To Edelgard’s surprise - and embarrassment - and heart-pounding shock - Byleth grabbed her hand, hauling her off down what seemed to be a street of shops (you could shop here?), towards the castle from a movie, not the ancient past. Such casual intimacy was very common now, as Edelgard had noticed very quickly, surprised at first by handshakes, hugs, people only kissing one another, but that didn’t mean it was any less of a shock to have it from Byleth. From a woman that, in her mind, had been preparing to execute her only months before. From a woman whose hand she once had longed more than any other to hold…

They turned before the castle - and the whole world once more transformed. There was no time to process it, but no matter - she was still struggling with trying to process Byleth’s hand, the warm softness of her skin. To process any of this.

“Only a 20 minute line - I’m glad we got here early!”

“20 minute line…?”

“For Space Mountain!”

“Space…. Mountain? I don’t - “

“Of course you don’t. You will soon! Hurry!”

What could she do but as told? She wouldn’t survive an hour in this curious place without Byleth. She could barely handle the street outside Byleth’s apartment in Enbarr without Byleth… And she wanted Byleth to keep holding her hand.

Life generally was now overwhelming. “I confess,” she said - voice raised and shaky from the gait of their jog - “I feel rather foolishly like a child right now, like this.”

“That’s the point, El. And look - we’re here!”

It did not resemble a mountain. It did not resemble… anything Edelgard had ever seen. Though this was approximately the hundredth time she might have claimed the same simply in the last hour. Something about it almost reminded her of the technology - the weapons - employed by the evil beings Byleth said history now called Agarthans, rather than the more-cumbersome name by which she had known them. But Byleth would surely never take her somewhere like that? Still, it was the first thing that came to mind, looking up at this strangely-shaped, spiky, silvery… something.

The sign certainly said “Space Mountain.” Maybe the definition of “mountain” had changed? Some words had, like kid and - as she had thought earlier - ship, like the spaceships. She would ask later, when she could properly concentrate on the answer.

Byleth, meanwhile, had a very strange smile on her face. “Your first time going into space,” she said. “Just like in Star Wars.”

“Going into space?” Edelgard looked at the strange-something again, then back at Byleth. “I’m confused again, I’m afraid, my teach- Byleth.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Though the smug look on your face leads me to believe you are continuing to be deliberately obtuse. Is this going to exasperate me the entire week that we are here?”

That earned her a shrug, but no less of that very self-satisfied smirk. “You’re not allowed to be exasperated at Disney World, El. It’s against the rules.”

“Then perhaps don’t go out of your way to be exasperating?”

“We’ll see. Are you ready to go in?”

Edelgard took a third glance at the strange-something. “This might be an absurd question, but… does it truly somehow go into space?”

Her breath caught - briefly, thankfully - when Byleth’s hand squeezed around hers. But while that she could hope Byleth didn’t notice, there was no possibility the flush in her cheeks would be missed. She looked down, to concentrate on Byleths’s words rather than whatever expression might be on her face. There were things she was still not ready to see.

“Not really into space. It just uses speed and lights - or rather, lack thereof - to make it feel as if you’re in space. It’s a simulation.”

“…Simulation?”

“Using senses to make you feel like you’re seeing or feeling something you’re not.”

Another strange new word. That was the true mountain, whatever the current definition might be: the mountain of words and meanings and lost words she truly felt she might spend the rest of her life attempting to scale. She couldn’t escape it even here, in the “happiest place in Fódlan.”

“Like television?” She felt even more absurd at this question, even knowing perfectly well Byleth was - and had assured Edelgard repeatedly she always would be - happy to answer questions as long as it took for Edelgard to understand. She might deliberately exasperate at times, but was still, truly, as patient with Edelgard’s questions as she had been when they were teacher and student at the Officers Academy. And that was appreciated - no matter how ridiculous Edeglard felt, at times.

“A… little like television,” Byleth said now. “But… like you’re actually in the scene with the actors. When there are actors. There aren’t any here. Just movement and lights and sound. And usually screaming. Lots of screaming.”

“You sound curiously cheerful about the prospect.”

The strange smile was back when Edelgard forced her eyes up once more. Byleth’s hand tugged hers. “I don’t want to spoil it too much. But I think you’ll like it. Ready to go?”

“As… ready as as I’ll likely ever be. I suppose.”

They were going inside the strange-something. The mountain-that-wasn’t-a-mountain. It was cooler inside - air conditioner again - and there was a line of people that moved in fits and starts, seeming to go gradually upward. They were climbing the mountain - in a sense? But it didn’t feel like being in space. Not that Edelgard had been in space. But it was not how she imagined it would be like to be in space. Maybe it was a simulation of climbing into space? But there was no speed, none of the lights and sounds Byleth had made sound like they were unusual in some way. Unusual by the standards of a world with lightbulbs and radios. If this was a radio. Sometimes, Edelgard still was confused by how far to extend a new concept - she had confused movie and television for weeks, after learning of them for the first time together.

After some time had passed - Byleth had said the line would take 20 minutes, but Edelgard had yet to master measuring time in such a manner - there were peculiar sounds, but they did not seem like those that would come from a radio, or a spaceship. Odd, mechanical sounds, like movement - and, very faintly, those screams she had half-wondered if Byleth might be joking about. She leaned a little, in case she could catch a glimpse of anything, but all she saw was an impenetrable wall of people in t-shirts and sunglasses and the curiious hats Byleth had told her about, the ones with balls on them intended to make people look like enormous mice. (Byleth had briefly attempted to explain why. It still made no sense to Edelgard.)

The screaming got louder - but there was an echo-y, muffled quality to it. As if it were coming from inside a cave, or the other side of a closed door. And mixed with it was what sounded like cheering, and… laughter?

Byleth’s hand once more squeezed.

(Why was Byleth still holding her hand?)

“You look concerned, El.”

She managed a smile, if only a tight one. “Perhaps a bit. It’s more that I am… now very, very curious. On a day when everything I see seems more curious than the last.”

Byleth laughed. “Even by modern standards, El, no one would ever call Disney World ‘normal’.”

The smile felt a little more natural, now. “I’m relieved to hear that. Though… I do think I’ll leave rather fond of this place.”

Another hand squeeze.

(Another caught breath.)

“Let’s see how you feel after this, okay?”

The end of the line - and more of the not-gatekeepers. But there were no tickets here, so what were they called? She would have to ask Byleth.

But later - one more hand squeeze (a… slightly longer one? It felt so…), then they had to part. The not-gatekeepers were moving everyone to separate, smaller lines. She leaned again at the strange mechanical sound she had heard earlier, now much closer and clearer. Everyone ahead was still taller than she was - Byleth said she wasn’t just imagining it, people really were taller now - but she could still see: rows of cars. Or were they called cars? This morning they had ridden -

She leaned closer to Byleth. “Is that a car or a monorail?”

“Neither. It’s a cart.”

Edelgard looked again, not bothering to hide in her expression the disdain she now felt. That thing was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a “cart” of any kind. It didn’t even have wheels!

Regardless, she was about to get in one. She glanced at Byleth, who met her gaze and grinned. She looked excited.

The screams suddenly felt much more urgent.

Then she was being ushered into her seat on the “cart,” a mysterious metal bar coming down over her lap. She knew seatbelts - was this just some variant, or did it serve a different purpose?

She supposed she was about to find out.

There truly was an alarming amount of screaming, somewhere ahead of them…

“Hang on!” Byleth said.

There was a startling little jerk as the cart began to move, but it smoothed out quickly. They were going slowly - into darkness. Complete darkness.

They stopped.

Lights - a sign? But while Edelgard could tell there were letters on it, she still struggled with the strange way things were written now, and the cart was moving again before she could make out what it said.

More lights - bright ones. Almost painfully bright. And peculiar, discordant sounds. Radio? It didn’t sound like radio. Or like any other sound she had ever heard, in this world or in her own. They were going up. surrounded by the too-bright lights and strange sounds, and Edelgard felt a curious, indeterminate dread building within her gut.

She leaned forward, to be heard over the sound. “My teacher, what - “

“Hang on, El.”

“Hang…?”

“The bar, El! Grab the bar!”

There was no more warning than that. There was no time for it.

The cart went hurtling into darkness.

Edelgard shrieked and grabbed before she was thrown off. The closest thing.

Not the bar.

Byleth.

Byleth’s arms wrapped around her own, holding her there. Was she laughing…?

There was no chance to wonder. They were still being thrown around in that pitch-black darkness, up and down and around. Edelgard might have continued to scream - as so many others were doing - but the first drop had knocked the breath out of her, and she had yet to manage to get it back.

It lasted for a small infinity - and almost no time at all. Then, they were abruptly back into a world of sunlight, of voices instead of screams, and of Edelgard quickly pulling back from her hold on Byleth.

Much as some part of her desperately fought as she did so…

Byleth had wrapped her arms around Edelgard’s. Byleth had held her hand - and for far longer than was necessary.

But this was not the time to dwell on it. She stood on shaky legs when the bar raised to allow it - and found a hand, reaching to offer help stepping out of the cart.

And again, Byleth did not let go. Instead, as they walked, she swung their hands casually, and smiled, and said, “What did you think?”

Edelgard considered this, trying hard to focus, despite the curious hand-swinging. “I… do rather wish you had warned me.”

Byleth laughed. “I told you three times to hold onto something.”

She felt the flush rise in her cheeks. “That is not what I meant, as you well know. But I…” She looked to Byleth, and allowed herself a rare open smile. “I quite liked it! Could we… perhaps go again?”

Byleth smiled back - filling Edelgard with a rush of warmth both strange and very pleasant. “Sure we can. We can go right now, if you like. You can even hold onto me again, if you want to.”

Edelgard looked quickly away. “Yes. Well. The… offer is appreciated.”

Another laugh - and another squeeze of her hand. “Do you want to go now?”

“If you’re sure that you don’t mind… then yes. I would quite like to go again. But my tea- Byleth, I’m… rather confused?”

“About what?”

“Why are we… How did we get inside a shop?”

#fire emblem three houses #edelgard #edelgard von hresvelg #byleth #byleth eisner #edeleth #modern au #tales of the tiny emperor #stories with lys #fire emblem three houses fanfiction

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darlinvandijk · 4 years

Text

Feeling blue

concept: here’s a little piece that I decided to do. I’m not doing well, mentally or physically, and just decided to use this as an outlet for some of my emotions. Warning: Anxiety attack, Depression, mental health issues. So here’s the love and intimacy I crave when I feel at my lowest. I love you all very much. Thank you for sticking with me. Hope you enjoy

I trace the trails of the raindrops as they make their way down my window, trying to give myself something to pay attention to, hoping it’ll ease my anxiety ridden brain. I know it won’t work, but I can try to be hopeful right?

The only sounds present in my room being that of the storm outside, the storm that’s still not strong enough to drown out the storm causing chaos within my head. My mind is a whirlwind of emotions ranging from hopelessness to fear, fear to anger, and anger to nothing. I feel nothing. I also feel everything.

My thoughts are interrupted by my phone blaring to life with an incoming call, from none other than my best friend, who also just so happens to be my boyfriend. I stare at my phone for a moment, wondering if I even want to pick it up. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him, it’s that I don’t want to talk to anyone. I take in a deep breath, trying to calm the ragged breathing escaping my lips, not wanting to make him worry.

“Hey sweetheart, I was missing you a little bit more than usual, and wanted to call you. What’re you up to love?” He asks as soon as I answer, the smile in his voice apparent over the phone. My heart clenches hearing his voice, my eyes watering almost instantly, an aching pain spreading across my heart. I need to be strong. I have to be strong.

“Hi bub, I miss you too, I’m just hanging out in my room and watching the storm outside, the lighting looks really nice from my window” I softly reply, my answer not technically being a lie, just only partially the truth. My eyes watching the sky light up, wondering how something so beautiful, could be so deadly. “What’re you doing? Since I know you’ve been really busy lately with your music, anything good yet?” I question, hoping I can turn the conversation to him, knowing it’ll only be a matter of moments before I break down.

“They let me out of the studio early today for once since the storm was getting worse, so I just got home a few minutes ago and wanted to talk. We’ve got a few tracks coming along, nothing too crazy yet” he laughs, thinking of how crazy his week has been, finally being able to catch a break. “I wish I could have seen you though, I’ve really missed you the last week baby, I’m sorry I’ve only been able to text you here and there” he apologizes, guilt filling his voice at the thought of how tired he’s been by the time he gets back home late from the studio. I slowly make my way to my bed, laying down and putting the phone on speaker, setting it next to me on my pillow.

“It’s okay, you’ve been busy with work, I’m so proud of you, I already know whatever you’re doing is going to be amazing” I reassure him, curling my shaking hands into my hoodie, my anxiety worsening by the second. I feel my heart start to pick up speed, the feeling of panic starting to rise, for reasons my brain doesn’t even know. “I was actually about to shower before you called, can I talk you later?” I rush out, sitting up as my hands start to pull at my hoodie, my body trembling. My shallow shaky breathing echoing throughout my room, more daunting than the thunder that rumbles through the night sky.

“Are you okay sweetheart? You never shower during storms, you told me you’re always scared the power will go out” he questions, confused on my sudden change of tone. I stay silent, having no other excuse to throw at him, my head already spiraling into chaos. “Hello? Love, what’s going on?” He softly asks, his own heart racing as he hears my choked breathing, my eyes watering as I try to keep my sobs contained.

“I’m okay, I promise. Just not feeling too good, but I’ll be okay. It’ll be okay” I cry, trying to reassure myself more than him, my head starting to feel tight with pressure from the tears building up. I hear his keys jingle and a door opening, my heart instantly stuttering, knowing exactly what he’s going to do. “Don’t come over. I’m okay, it’s not safe for you to go out right now. Stay home Ruel” I whimper out, voice cracking as I think about the stress I put on everyone in my life. All I seem to do is cause problems, problems that wouldn’t exist if I could just be normal.

“It’s a five minute drive, I can make it. You need me right now and I can’t just stay home knowing you feel this way. I love you, see you soon” he mumbles, his voice blurry from the wind rushing around outside, before hanging up and leaving me in silence. A silence so soul shattering that I wouldn’t wish it upon even my worst enemy. Lucky me, my worst enemy just so happens to be myself. It’s always been me.

I go into my bathroom, hoping I can clean up my appearance before he gets here, or at least try to hide the reality I’ve been living in. I look in the mirror, breaking my heart all over again, a sob ripping through the room as I look at myself. My eyes wandering over every square inch of me, from the tears streaming down my face, to the shaking hands pressed against my chest. I slide down on to the floor, my hands gripping and tugging my hair, feeling broken beyond repair. My red tear stained face painted on to the back of my eyelids, not letting me escape, even as I shut my eyes as hard as I can.

I sob as I press my head into the wall behind me, gasping for breath, gasping for relief. My body shaking with the cries that are being let out, craving nothing but peace, a life where I don’t have to feel this way every day. A life where I can be happy, where I can be free, and where I can finally be at peace. As my brain struggles to focus on one thought, so many flying through at a rapid pace, I miss the sound of the door opening and footsteps making their way in.

“I’m here. You’re okay, I’m right here.” He whispers, sliding down on to the ground next to me, reaching out to me. I grab his hand, ignoring the tears that cover it, and hold it to my chest. He stays silent, letting me get everything out, not wanting to overwhelm me by grabbing me and talking, already being able to see the sensory overload I’m going through. He holds my hand just as tight, watching the tears steadily fall down my face, his heart filling with a pain he couldn’t describe. A pain that has him wishing he could take all of my problems for himself, willing to suffer for the hope of bringing me peace, if only it were that easy.

“It hurts Ruel.. everything hurts” I choke out, finally making eye contact with him, his own watery eyes watching me in return. I let go of his hand as he stands up, watching as he reaches down towards me, before he lifts me up and walks back into my room. I hear him kick his shoes off, before he sits us against the headboard, letting me rest my face against the crook of his neck as he gets settled. I bunch his hoodie in my hands, my tears soaking his collar and my ragged breathing rushing across his throat. “I just want to be happy” I croak out, feeling his hands rubbing my back, trying his hardest to soothe me.

“Shhh sweetheart just breathe, don’t focus on anything else. Breathe with me” he mutters, gently moving my head to his chest, and taking a deep breath in. I follow his lead, breathing with him, not stopping till they come out smooth rather than ragged and choppy. I take in a deep breath, my heart starting to slow down, and my hands easing their grip against his chest. He moves a hand up to my hair, softly running his hand through, while holding me as tight as he can against him. “Do you want to talk about it now? You don’t have to, we can just go to sleep, I know how tired you must be” he whispers, his eyes trained on the storm outside, wondering when the days will get easier.

“I don’t know how I feel, I just don’t feel like me anymore. I don’t think I have for a long time now” I softly admit, my heart clenching with the vulnerability of my statement. He lets out a quiet hum, letting me know he’s listening, but wanting me to continue confiding in him. “I just don’t feel good anymore. I don’t feel like I’m enough, nothing is ever enough.” I tell him, my voice breaking, my heart filled with the empty longing of a better life. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, his own brain trying to find the right thing to say, even though there’s nothing he can truly say to make this go away.

“It’s okay to feel that way, it’s okay. I know that nothing I say can change things, or fix the way you feel, but I’m going to be here for you every step of the way. You’re going to be okay, it’s just going to take time” he promises, moving us so that we’re flat against the bed, his arm wrapped around my waist as he looks into my eyes. I watch his eyes flit around my face, memorizing every detail as they go, filled with nothing but love. Love that’s still there even after watching me at my lowest point. “We’re going to take it day by day, some days you’ll feel good, other days not so much. We’ll handle those days when we get there though, for now we’re going to focus on the present. How can I help you right now?” He asks, caressing my cheek with his hand, his touch radiating warmth throughout my body.

“Can you just hold me for now. I just want to feel like I’m worth something, like someone actually cares” I mumble, watching a breathtaking smile stretch across his face. He nods his head and pulls me against him, the pain of today easing, finally feeling like I’m not alone. “I’m sorry for making you deal with this, I know you’re probably stressed as it is with your workload lately” I apologize, feeling embarrassed about my breakdown, knowing he has his own struggles to deal with.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, I chose to be here, you didn’t force me. I’m here because I love you. I’m your boyfriend sweetheart, I’m gonna be here with you through the bad and good, not just when it’s convenient for me” He reassures, slipping a hand under my hoodie to rub my back, feeling me relax underneath his touch. “Your problems are my problems, I want to be here for you when you’re struggling. You can always come to me, I’m not going anywhere. You actually couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried, you’re stuck with me for life” He laughs out, his mind easing up as I laugh, knowing he meant it when he said I’m stuck with him.

“Noooo, I was hoping I could trade you in for Coco” I joke, lifting my head up to make eye contact, laughing at the look on his face. He rolls his eyes at me before leaning down and pressing a kiss against my lips, pulling away with a small smile. “I love you.” I mumble, pressing my face back against his chest as fatigue starts to set in, the events of the day finally taking their toll on me. I don’t see the smile that covers his face, a light blush turning his face pink, still affected by the simple words after being together for so long.

“I love you more baby, way more than I can even say. You’re going to get better and you’re going to be okay, I promise. I won’t stop until the day you can wake up and truly feel at peace, even if it takes me the rest of my life” he states, his brain filled with ideas of what our future will be like, knowing that one day it’ll be filled with nothing but peace and happiness. A true happiness that I’ll feel more days than not, a happiness where I’ll back at these days and think of it as a bump in the road, and not my everyday reality. “It’s going to get easier and when it does I’ll be right there with you.” He muses, feeling me press a kiss against his chest, my eyes struggling to stay open.

“I can’t wait till those days are here, it’s been a long time coming, but I know they’ll be here soon. Even if soon is years from now, I know they’ll be here” I whisper, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time. I know it won’t happen overnight, it’s going to take lots of tears and pain before I can be free, but I know one day it’ll happen. It’ll happen because I deserve nothing but happiness and love, I deserve nothing but a life where I can love myself truly and whole heartedly, without the thoughts of pain clouding my mind. It’s going to take time, but it will happen, even on the days where I think nothing will change and get better, the good days will be just around the corner. I deserve to be happy. I will be happy.

“Feeling blue will be a thing of the past, it’s been a long time coming, but it’s almost here”

#one ruel #ruel #ruelvincentvandijk #ruel van dijk #ruel imagine #ruel fanfic #ruel one shot #ruel imagines #ruel x reader #imagines #imagine #x reader #free time ep #one shot

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son-of-skarmory · 4 years

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((Alright, everyone’s been making posts about their mental health right now so I guess it’s my turn. This is just meant to be a general thing-I’m not targeting anyone (none of this is single-instance stuff), and my main goal is just to raise awareness of what it’s like on my end. I’ll go into minor detail about that in a bit.

Basically, I want to make a PSA about IMing me right now.

Details under the cut, and if you read I’d appreciate some notification (like a like or a message, or even an IM saying ‘read your thing’. But as usual, no pressure to do it. Do what you need to do for your mental health, too.

tl;dr is IMs are overwhelming so please don’t overdo them with me. You can send them but please give me time and space.

So, as some of you have heard before, chats and IMs can stress me out to no end. Even texting can do it, and group chats are the bane of my existence. I stress out over missing things, and it can tear my attention away from anything else because I don’t want the other person to be left hanging. So I don’t use tumblr’s chat rooms and I don’t use d.iscord.

‘But Wings!’ You say, potentially frustrated by my hypocrisy. ‘We IM all the time! You send me messages, so am I expected to not send you anything?!’

And, no, please hear me out. I can handle short bursts of messages if we’re in the middle of discussing something like and idea. I can also use chat features if there’s the mutual understanding that there’s zero rush to reply, or sometimes even to respond at all. But I can’t do constant, and I can’t do small talk.

Right now, amidst all this chaos, my mental health is really struggling. A quick summary (that you can skip if you want):

I’m constantly dealing with invasive and paranoid thoughts (the latter especially about Dad). I’m almost always overstimulated, and my brain feels like it’s been wrapped in tulle. I don’t ever feel like I’m not anxious and I’m crying nearly every day, which is scary because for me crying can trigger migraines.

My dad, who I’m mostly stuck with, is a bigot with severe hearing loss, and even with his hearing aids in it’s too loud for me to be in the same room with him (which is where my computer happens to be). He barely helps me take care of Benny, who currently needs a lot of stimulation that I can’t give him. Dad is also at extremely high risk when it comes to C.OVID-19 (and please don’t make and comments or jokes about it maybe being a good thing if he dies).

Work is a complete mystery. If we can even run Summer Camps this year, we don’t have the same budget as most years since we had no Spring Break Camps, field trip groups, or Spring after school camps. So if we run camps in person, I have to change up my projects bc we’ll have a limited budget for special materials outside what the center already has. There’s also a possibility we’ll do Zoom classes from our houses, in which case I have to set up space, limit my materials even more (since we’ll be sending out a materials list for parents to buy, and they probably won’t want to purchase plaster or block printing ink), potentially even dropping some classes. And also I’ll have to look at my hideous body on camera since I have to make sure the kids can see what I’m doing (meaning I might need an overhead camera?). My retail job is...I have no idea.

Plus, as of May 1st I have no insurance, I have to find a new therapist and psychiatrist, and one of my meds costs over $250. And bonus if I do end up getting that tonsillectomy that was supposed to happen while I was on my parents’ insurance.

Between no work right now and whatever happens with Summer Camps, it’s gonna be a heavy blow to my finances. And since I’m trying to file for state insurance, I had to get kicked out of my savings accounts. I can ask Mom to send me some money from them if need be, but just the whole concept of having almost no access to that money in an emergency is terrifying, especially since I pay for Benny’s food and vet bills. I know that this one makes me sound like the entitled white girl I am but I’m scared, okay?

So...yeah. Everything is a bit much right now, but I really want to be here. I just want to lay down a few guidelines:

Please do not IM me just because I’m on. This is honestly one of the worst things. Sometimes it makes me avoid that account for the rest of the day.

Please do not expect me to hold small talk via IMs. You’re free to come to me with more focused topics, but don’t IM me for the sake of IMing me.

Understand that I might be very slow to reply, and in some cases I might not reply at all because I’m stressed by life stuff or have nothing to offer. If I don’t reply, it’s not because I’m ignoring you or don’t like you. I just need some time or space or both.

I’m not trying to say you can’t IM me. In fact, getting IMs can be a positive thing, because then I feel like I’m being thought about and am actually important to people (which is something I’m trying to deal with, I promise). Someone checking in can very super uplifting. I love talking about characters interacting. But just understand that chats and IMs and DMs can be very hard for me.

...Yeah. I’ll try to spread this around to the other blogs over some time. I’m sorry this kinda turned into a vent session, but I appreciate you taking the time to read it. Please make sure you’re taking care of yourself as well, and please know I love you very much <3 ))

#out of birds #mental health stuff #body image tw #please let me know if I need to tag anything #I'm gonna go play ACNH #but I'll try to be back later #thank you for being kind to me

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dulcidyne · 4 years

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Experiments in Diplomacy: Compiling [8/?]

There’s nothing in the Interspecies Diplomacy subsection of the Initiative handbook that covers sharing a tech lab with an angara who can kill her in her sleep. She knows, she’s read every page. Twice. (A collection of in-between vignettes from the Tempest tech lab)

//Jaal x Ryder // Humor. Romance. SFW // Previous chapters: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7] or read on Ao3

Somewhere along the way to age seven, in Citadel docking bay 223, Se-ah Ryder decides crying, hugs, tantrums, and other public displays of emotion are things she has outgrown. Perfunctory, precise, she shuts them away as if embarrassing emotional habits can be sealed into donation boxes for young needy children in the Lower Wards like her half-melted asari dolls.

Donated or lost, the box she puts them in stays shut. She doesn’t cry when they pay their respects to her grandmother’s urn at the columbarium. Or, much later, in another docking bay, when Scott waves goodbye as he ships off for Arcturus. She doesn’t cry the first time Iraenya plays down their relationship to her colleagues, embarrassed and ashamed. And when her mother dies, she takes a page out of her father’s book and finds a hospital supply closet and stifles her tears into her shirt collar.

It stays shut, that is, until now. Until twenty-eight uninterrupted minutes of sobbing into Jaal’s chest, followed by forty-one additional minutes of sporadic weeping interspersed with flailing grasps at composure. So, obviously, there is only one logical conclusion to make.

“Just run them again,” Se-ah hisses.

“Once again, Ryder, my scans do not detect any pathologic neurological patterns outside of baseline variation.”

She woke up to the dim ambient glow of the powered-down machine displays running through their background system scans, half-reclining in Jaal’s arms, in his cot, having cried herself to sleep in his embrace like an infant--that alone is an abnormality. She doesn’t understand why SAM is having difficulty with the concept.

“Outside of baseline,” she pauses, the gnarled tangle that is her hair fluttering as Jaal’s snores gust over her head. It tickles her temples but she doesn’t want to dislodge the warm arm banding around her shoulders to brush it back. “Wait, SAM, does that mean you normally detect pathologic patterns?” “It exceeds my functional parameters to parse this data into a clinical diagnosis. It would be unethical to make an attempt. Dr. T’Perro would undoubtedly provide better insight.”

Maggie’s lights pulse unhurried staccato patterns from the corner. Se-ah stiffens in Jaal’s loose embrace, indignant. “ Unethical. You’re an AI integrated into my entire body. Little late to be worried about ethics isn’t it?”

“A relevant point. I additionally lack subjective expertise. My data collection is limited to two genetically similar individuals. It is therefore relatively impossible for me to extrapolate what is normal and abnormal outside of overt structural dysfunction.”

“Further,” SAM says, “I am not an inert observer. It cannot definitively quantify what impact my integration and ongoing observation and interaction has had on your baseline neurological state.”

Disquieting. Se-ah stills and attempts to parse this new revelation while Jaal’s chest rumbles against her ear like the purr of a massive but very contented kitten. It’s nice. She wishes she were still half asleep and allowed to enjoy it and not awake and mortified over her predicament. Mortified and now, thanks to SAM, horrified.

“So not only can you not tell me if my brain is broken, you’re also saying that just by being in my head, you’re changing how it works and doing so in a way that you lack the ability to detect? Like some kind of quantum observer effect?”

SAM doles out a calculated pause for her benefit. All his pauses are for her benefit as he processes information in nanoseconds, but this one feels especially so. A pity pause. Bad news pause.

“Correct.”

“Great,” she mutters, “I’m Schroedinger’s basketcase.”

“My scans do detect significant decreases to harmful neurological metabolites and reduced cortisol levels...likely the product of sufficient rest.”

So that’s what it is. No creaking limbs, phantom aches or raw fatigue scraping the inside of her eyelids raw. A loose, shivery sensation clings like mist in her chest. It feels like a lungful of the air on Mr. Orleal, saturated in starlight and the ozone tingle of the eezo deposits under the lake.

Melatonin has nothing on Jaal. Lexi would be thrilled. Happiness flutters against her ribs. She hides her smile against the vast sloping ridge of Jaal’s alien chest even though there’s no one else there to see how foolish it looks. A familiar scent tickles her nose and she sniffles back a sneeze. He smells warm and herbal, like grapefruit orchards and Earth sunsets--carnelian, blush,and gold-- if Earth sunsets prickled in her sinuses like wasabi.

As far as smiles go, this one caught on the precipice of a sneeze, feels the stupidest.

“Pathfinder, if you have a moment, I would like to discuss some of the data I obtained earlier…”

The tentative flutter of joy in her chest curls inwards on itself, recoiling. She screws up her face, tipping her head back over Jaal’s arm, his r ofjinn bunching up against the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck.

“SAM, I don’t want to waste all this beautiful mental clarity on parsing out my emotional breakdown.”

It’s not fair and she regrets saying it. He provides more than his share of explanations for her and this is supposed to be a reciprocal relationship after all.

“That classification is interesting, Pathfinder. Noradrenaline phasic signalling was decreased, indicating the absence of a stress response. You rate the subjective experience, however, as a negative one?”

Half the words don’t even sound familiar. Despite being the daughter of a neuroscientist, she picked up precious little on the subject. Latching on to what she understands, she attempts an answer.

“No. Not negative. The opposite, I guess?”

“I see.”

She absurdly pictures SAM fitting the L of his imaginary thumb and pointer finger to his imaginary chin in a gesture of academic interest. Her father used to do that, unwittingly providing Scott with ample ammo for his ‘Alec Ryder, mad scientist’ impressions.

“This supports my observations of the intense activity within the mesolimbic circuit--”

Se-ah winces. “You know, it’s pretty weird to hear all the gory details.”

“I do not comprehend the discomfort.” SAM states, an echo of her father’s scientific fascination faint in the synthetic voice modulation. Her own imagination, she’s sure. “Your emotions are best described as the limited interpretation of this signalling process.”

For some indefinable reason, she bristles.

“Maybe technically, but...it was this amazing, overwhelming experience and it didn’t feel limited . It felt...immense. Bigger than anything. Like I couldn’t possibly keep it in without bursting and then I did burst and apparently that looks like a lot of crying.”

Ugly crying. There was a not-small-amount of snot involved.

“It’s more than mesolimbic circuits,” she persists, words coming faster and her voice tightening, “Sometimes things are more than their physical, observable state. When I’m on a summit, what I experience isn’t just snow and stars and rocks...it's…well I wouldn’t bother with it if that was all I got out of it. Look, I don’t think I could ever explain it in a way you’d be able to understand.”

The channel goes silent, longer than the normal exaggerated pauses SAM inserts into his responses. The silence is deafening on the heels of her tirade. As if he’s...affronted.

“Thank you Ryder.” SAM says at last. Clipped and professional. Is it her imagination or is it too professional? If there were such a thing? “I will attempt an analysis with this feedback in mind.”

Se-ah nods, unnecessarily given that it is SAM, her heart sinking. Who knows what havoc a peeved AI could wreck in her brain, apparently without either of them any the wiser? And if she can’t explain it to SAM she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to explain what happened to Jaal. Not that she didn’t try before, during all the sobbing, but it was impossible to get anything out that wasn’t ‘I’m fine, I just...’ before dissolving into tears again. He didn’t press her for more.

But maybe now that she isn’t an emotional wreck, he might. Whether she has answers is less certain.

‘Sorry, SAM says you overloaded my mesolimbic circuit and that it’s all very scientific and reasonable and I’m not crazy. Or I might be. Have you heard the human folk tale about the cat?”

Awful. The shivering sensation in her chest unfurls again and spreads out into her fingers. She furrows them into the crease of Jaal’s side and the cot, letting his warmth soothe the trembling overtaking her frame. His arm wraps tighter reflexively. This is the sort of moment she wants to soak in, slow, like sunlight filtering through leaves stippling ancient Morse-code patterns over her face. Eyes closed, she inhales and vague memories sift warm impressions on the backs of her eyelids.

Hands, scarred and calloused and massive sweeping soft, reassuring circles against her back. His chin on the top of her head, her face tucked into the graceful sweep of his neck where a crook would be on hers. A low thrum: his voice, unintelligable, but soothing. A musical hum buzzes through the air.

Se-ah sighs and blinks her eyes open to glance up. He’s still deep asleep, snoring away. A hazy, contented smile gathers at the corners of his mouth and makes him look, for all the universe, like someone having a pleasant dream.

Despite spending the vast majority of her waking moments on the ship in his makeshift bedroom, she’s never seen him this way. The quiet of the ship is unsettling, he claims. Unlike his naps on the NOMAD, the only sleep she sees him take on the ship is fitful, almost violent--covers twisting, his hands clutching, face grimacing, the names of the lost wrenching out of him as he jolts awake. But even the sleep he snatches on the NOMAD doesn’t look this peaceful. It takes him quick and fast, like something joyless and inevitable. She grimaces. Like death.

Studying his lidded eyes, she shifts on the cot to lean her weight more on his chest and tip her head back, peering up at the sweeping planes of his cheekbones, the point of his chin, and the fine ridge of his brow. He’s beautiful. All angara are, to her eye-- all grace and noble carved profiles like ancient Athame sculptures given color, life, and a Romanesque bone structure. But Jaal’s beauty is sharper, more defined than anything out of asari or human antiquity. War and grief etch his face in a landscape of visible and invisible scars, throwing the softness that remains, obstinate and miraculous, in high relief. The softness is all she sees now. It is the face of a man who dreams, hopes, composes poems and perfumes, and is always seeking, searching, finding bits of wonder. If it weren’t for the kett, this might always be his face and Andromeda would be a place where it would fit. The dreamer. The tinkerer. The explorer.

But the kett stole that place away from him. War is spare. Merciless. There is little room for anything else but soldiers. Se-ah bites the inside of her lip, hard. Jaal is the first to insist he isn’t much of a soldier.

She doesn’t realize the snoring stops until he, without bothering to open his eyes, asks, “Yes, Ryder?”

Chagrined and surprised over how close she’s gotten, she immediately jolts away. “You’ve been awake? How long?” The slant of his smile changes but his eyes stay closed, “Long enough. Were you under the impression that you were being discreet?”

Fair point.

“So why didn’t you say something?” “I was trying to sleep. Speaking seemed counterproductive.”

“Uh huh. To your eavesdropping, maybe.”

Jaal doesn’t look at her, on account of the fact that he’d yet to bother opening his eyes, but the resigned set of his shoulders conveys a beleaguered expression that comes with an air of ‘No, I don’t think I’ll even bother ’. It’s one he wears around Liam with regularity. “Please do not attempt to explain that one. If I cannot sleep I’d much rather occupy my mind elsewhere.”

He makes a point of settling further into the cot, the large divot his body forms in the fabric deepening. Maybe he’s trying to free up the arm underneath her she realizes, belatedly. Renewed mortification crowds up her neck and she coughs to clear her throat. “Oh, then I should...leave you to that then,” she says, cheeks burning as she draws back against the gravitational pull of his weight on the cot, narrowly avoiding toppling on top of him.

“Stay.” At last Jaal blinks open his eyelids, a slow reveal of vivid blue. He looks at her, uncharacteristically uncertain, before saying, simply, “If...you’d like. You could join me.”

She hesitates. “Join you--elsewhere?”

“No, just here.”

Somehow he feels...closer. Not physically. It’s as if the gap in the universe between them has vanished overnight. She’s no longer on the precipice, her thoughts and feelings a faint, distorted comm. She’s there , a few bare centimeters in front of him and he’s looking at her as if he can see every detail of her with absolute clarity. It’s dreamer’s look with a tinkerer’s focus and his eyes are luminous, twin helium nebulae lit from within with something like wonder. She mistook it for morbid fascination once. This time she knows better. He smiles as if he might laugh. Fond. Unbearably so. Her chest hurts to look at it.

“No idioms, nothing else. Just this. Right now.” The words linger, rippling against her skin in gentle, rumbling waves. Jaal crooks his pinned arm and brushes back the fluttering snarl of her hair.

A quiet bubble settles around the tiny cot, enclosing them within the warm, sunset smell of him. It feels safe. Like home. She doesn’t know the last time she felt those things. Not since-- It should be strange to find them here, an entire galaxy away, with an alien who openly spoke about killing her after they’d just met.

Jaal’s huff of a laugh skips across the quiet like a smooth stone on a lake surface. Something about it tells her he’s picked up on the precise turn of her thoughts--too perceptive by half. “You know, you are remarkably expressive. Almost angaran.”

She tucks her face into the slope of his neck and pulls a scowl, even though it isn’t an insult. The memory of her tragic poker loss to Gil is still all too fresh and she feels a little too raw, a little too exposed with nowhere to hide her vulnerabilities. Instead of answering, she buries a noncommittal sound into his bare skin.

He laughs again, rueful and soft. “It was a clumsy effort, but it was intended as a compliment. We are a vocal people. More than words and expressions. In addition to combative and deliberate communication uses, our bioelectrics have subtle subconscious patterns and pulses. I believe your hanar are similar, in the visible electromagnetic spectrum. It is difficult to suppress. Few have scrupulous reasons to try.”

His fused fingers twine into her hair. It seems a point of endless fascination for him. Even in the Milky Way, hair is something of a novelty.

“The emotions of those around us pervade all our senses. It saturates our lives. My first days on this ship were so...disorienting. I felt the absence keenly, like a limb lost in battle.”

Her scowl vanishes and she looks up to meet his eyes again. Of course, she’d suspected his trouble adjusting, but never knew the full extent. He kept so much hidden then. “It must have made it that much more difficult, deciding if you could trust us.”

Jaal laughs. It sounds pained. “Very. I learned to look harder, with time. There is a beauty in subtlety. Underappreciated among my people, but I’ve grown quite fond of it. Humans were easier. And then, there was you.”

“About as subtle as a flaming ship crashing on your planet?”

Genuine mirth threads into his laughter, his eyes tracing over her upturned face. “Yes. An apt comparison. Vivid, exciting… deeply alarming to some.”

She brightens and his smile deepens. The hand at her temple curls against her skin to brush a soft line over her cheek with the backs of his knuckles.

“It made trusting you more easy than wise, considering the risk.”

“I’m sure Evfra disapproved,” she says.

“Of course. Evfra is a cautious strategist. He despaired of me.”

Jaal leans his cheek against her head, looking off towards the dim ambient glow of the machines running through their downtime routines.

“My caution was always a feeble force and your face...says such beautiful things. I didn’t understand why you struggled so desperately to hide them away.” He adds, blunt as ever, “Not... well, of course . But with an extraordinary amount of effort. I imagine it was exhausting. Inexpressibly painful. My heart ached just to see it.”

The corners of her eyes begin to prickle. Machine lights catch on the dust motes, adrift on the flickering electrostatic currents weaving around and between them, setting each pinpoint aglow like rippling eddies of distant stars.

“I thought the same about you, you know. Before we rescued the Moshae.”

Caution shackling his expressions and the strategic withdrawals into clipped one-word answers calculated to give as little away as possible. She’s more glad than she can say to have earned his trust and the chance to see his genuine self without the fetters of fear and uncertainty. He said getting to know her would be a gift and that is how knowing him better feels--like the best gift she didn’t even know to ask for.

He nods. “Yes. I wept for joy that she was safe and for the wrenching horror of what we learned that day but also I wept for my freedom from my own fears. Escaping them was...liberating despite my grief. Cathartic. I think perhaps you felt something of that same freedom. Earlier, when you cried.”

Catharsis. Freedom-- but from what? She wasn’t on a diplomatic mission with alien intruders. She was just-- her . A touch-starved awkward hugger with a trigger-happy mesolimbic circuit. But, that feels insufficient as far as explanations go. Instead, she remembers Scott crying, wailing, hands fisting over his eyes. It’s gone. I have to find it. People are looking. Mom ignores them and kneels despite the crowd, attempting to soothe him. Alec Ryder’s stonefaced expression fractures into a grimace. Pained. He turns away. His hand presses down on her own small shoulder and squeezes. It feels like pride. She forces her chin to stop quivering. She won’t cry. Nothing will ever be okay and everything is wrong but she is Alec Ryder’s daughter and she is old enough to do that much.

A tear slips into her hairline and Jaal’s thumb rubs it away. Breath held, she reaches up between them to capture his hand in her own. His eyes are full of reflected stars, twin galaxies pulling her into their inexorable spin. At the point of her outstretched fingernail is a pinprick of light, fanning off, faintly luminous, refracting off her tears.Se-ah pauses, taken aback, blinking away the moisture collecting on her lashes. It’s not a trick of the light. Her fingertips are actually glowing. And, she realizes, the air is...humming.

“SAM, are we about to fry anything with this corona discharge?” she asks. All at once the air changes, the charged dust motes around them still and the lights on her fingertips flicker out. It smells and feels like a storm just swept out of the tech lab.

“Appropriate precautions have already been taken to accommodate non-combat angaran electromagnetic field manipulation, Pathfinder. Ozone levels are also within acceptable limits.”

Jaal coughs and looks away, suddenly awkward. “Ahh...as I was saying, it requires some concentration to suppress.”

“Can you stop? Concentrating that is? It’s not as if--well, SAM said it wouldn’t hurt anything.”

Now that she’s paying better attention, she can feel the tingling pressure building and shifting around them. The hairs stand up on her arms. The air smells bright and clean. Light collects on her fingertips again. Faint, but visible. Se-ah laughs, delighted, and slowly bends her fingers, watching the blue flicker and reappear. Ionized plasma balancing on the edge of an electromagnetic field pierced by the short point of her nail. Hardly seemed subtle in her book. Little about him was.

“We call this St. Elmo’s Fire,” she tells him. “It was considered a good omen by ancient human voyagers.”

“Ah. I’m your good omen then?”

“Well, we haven’t crashed once since you got here.”

He brings his free palm to hers, one fused, two separate for her five. She adds, sincerely, “It’s beautiful. Does this happen to you a lot? I’ve never noticed before.”

“No. This is...it’s more. It is special. Explaining would be difficult. Clumsy. I cannot do it justice.”

Hands pressed together, his palm dwarfing hers, a swell of emotion courses through her and a stubborn tear traces down her cheek. She laughs and a sniffle turns it into a tremulous, hiccuping burst of happiness.

“Is there a word for it in Shelesh?”

“No,” he says simply. “There is just this.”

Churning waves of electrons are crashing against her fingertips, caught in the lunar pull of him. Everything dissolves in the watery film of tears and she’s floating, falling, swept by tidal forces into an endless depth of variegated blue. There can be no words, in Shelesh or any other language. But she knows anyway. Floating in an electron sea of his design, palms pressed, wrapped in his embrace--she knows exactly what he is saying.

#jaal ama darav #mass effect andromeda #jaal x ryder #jaal romance

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ltleflrt · 5 years

Note

Hnnngh *bites lip* so hard to choose. Dragon/Wedding planner AU for your prompts game? I‘ve loved all of the ficlets that came out of this so far!

I fracking love this prompt, thank you :D

“This isn’t even my wedding, how did I get roped into this?”

Sam casts Dean an unimpressed look as he opens the door to the meeting room and gestures for Dean to precede him inside. “There’s more to being the best man than planning the bachelor party, Dean.”

“Since when?” he demands, just to be stubborn. He doesn’t really have a problem helping out with anything Sam and Eileen need, it’s just weird to him that they’d hire someone to do all the hard work for them, and still need Dean’s input on stuff.

Sam’s answer is lost to him when Dean’s eyes fall on the room’s stupidly sexy occupant. His feet glue themselves to the floor, and it takes a nudge from Sam to get moving again.

“Hello, Castiel,” Sam says brightly as he crosses the meeting room. “Thank you for coming here to meet us today.”

“It is my pleasure, of course.” The man–he’s certainly male, if not human–smiles graciously as he accepts Sam’s hand to shake.

Dean’s eyebrows feel like they’re trying to launch themselves into his hair.

Touching a Phoenix is an invitation for third degree burns, but Castiel doesn’t even flinch as his hand is engulfed in Sam’s much larger grip.

“Castiel, this is my brother Dean,” Sam says, gesturing for Dean to come closer. He casts Dean a look that says get over here idiot, which works because Dean’s on auto pilot. “He’s going to be helping out when Eileen and I are unavailable.”

It’s been trained into him since birth not to touch anyone. His nature as a Phoenix puts most creatures in danger of burns from standing too close, much less initiating skin to skin contact. So it’s a surreal experience to feel a hand that doesn’t belong to someone of his own species slide against his own. His fingers brush the edge of a cool scale and it sends a shiver up his arm.

Flame-blue eyes stare up at him, and Dean’s brain experiences a mild short circuit when Castiel smiles at him. “Hello, Dean.”

“You’re a dragon,” Dean blurts.

When Castiel laughs, his whole body gets in on the motion. The wings draped over his shoulders flutter, and his tail whips left to right. The sunlight pouring in through the wall of windows lining one side of the meeting room glints off the iridescent scales along his neck and hairline. “I believe I am, yes.”

Dean blinks and shakes his head. Castiel’s voice is like thick smoke, and it’s going straight to his pleasure centers. He needs to get a grip on himself before he does something really embarrassing. He pastes on a charming smile. “Sorry. I’ve never met a dragon before.”

“And I’ve met very few Phoenixes,” Castiel counters with a teasing smile. “My people do prefer the view from their mountain tops, but I find that sometimes the rest of the world holds much more pleasurable views.” His eyes trail down Dean’s body, lingering on their clasped hands, before coming back up to lock their gazes together again.

Is that a flirtation?

Dean hopes it’s a flirtation.

Sam ruins the moment by clearing his throat. “Eileen’s sorry she couldn’t be here today. She’s needed in Oberon’s court.”

“I understand.” Castiel turns his attention to Sam, a professional facade coming down over his expression as he releases Dean’s hand. “She’s a very busy woman, and I’m here to take as much stress and work off her shoulders as possible.”

Dean misses Castiel’s touch as soon as it slips away. But he’s suddenly looking forward to all his extra Best Man duties.

***

As ambassador to the land of the Fae, Sam is a pretty busy guy, and his engagement to Eileen, a high ranking member of Oberon’s court, means even more rounds of social events. So Dean ends up doing a lot more of the work on getting the wedding set up than he expected. And that means spending a lot more time with Castiel than the bride and groom do.

Which, to be completely fucking honest, is awesome.

Castiel insists on meeting in person often, sometimes multiple times a week. And it isn’t always to visit bakeries and flower shops. They spend an equal number of meetings in coffee shops, or cozy restaurants, with Castiel’s binders open on the table between them to keep up the appearance that what they’re doing isn’t dating.

Because it hasn’t been said out loud yet, but Dean’s pretty sure that’s what this is. Why else would their discussions veer from business to personal so often? Why else would Castiel touch him whenever he can, like he can’t help himself?

Dean could be way off base. Maybe dragons are touchy-feely by nature. It’s completely possible that Castiel is always staring at Dean’s lips because he’s hard of hearing. Eileen stares at Dean’s mouth all the time, and it certainly isn’t because she wants to jump his bones. And the intense eye contact when Dean’s not speaking? Well that could just be Dean projecting. Eye contact is normal, right? It’s not all eye fucking.

It certainly feels like eye-fucking though.

He could ask. Hey, Cas. Is this thing between us all in my head? Maybe write him a note, and ask him to check yes or no if he likes Dean the way Dean likes him.

Or he can continue to be chicken shit about it, and just bask in Castiel’s presence. Treasure every look, every gentle slide of Castiel’s fingers against his hand or his arm. Soak in the cooling relief of his presence, because Castiel probably doesn’t understand the concept of Personal Space, and isn’t standing shoulder to shoulder with Dean in the print shop because he craves that contact as well.

Over the months they gravitate closer and closer.

Dean never asks why.

***

Never in his life has Dean seen a wedding so beautiful.

Sam and Eileen stand together under an arch of orange and yellow irises. Bonfires flank the raised dais, and torches line the aisles. Light and shadow from all the flames dance across Eileen’s flowing white dress, making her appear to be bathed in her own fire. Both the bride and groom are displaying their wings proudly, Eileen’s sheer and rainbow shimmery, Sam’s fiery feathers arched over his shoulders. Only clever spell work keep them from sparking fire in his clothing and the nearby flowers. And Eileen’s fairy blood protects her from Sam’s burning touch.

The priestess bonds them together with a rope of pure gold wrapped loosely around their clasped hands. She repeats the sacred ritual in three languages, including sign. And when she announces them Bound, the torches and the bonfires roar higher, adding more noise to the cheering of the gathered crowd.

Petals from orange roses are tossed over the wedded couple’s heads as they turn to their guests, and raise their tied hands up high to display them to everyone present.

Dean’s vision blurs, maybe from tears, maybe from the heat haze of so much open flame.

After the ceremony it’s hours before Dean gets a moment to himself. He sneaks away as soon as he finishes his Best Man speech, to a quiet corner of the palace gardens. The marble bench he finds is cool, and the gentle breeze rustling the surrounding bushes is refreshing on his cheeks. Even as a creature of fire, it feels good to get away from the hot press of bodies packed into one place.

And out here, he doesn’t have to pull himself in tight to prevent brushing too close to someone who might suffer injury on contact with his skin. He lets his head fall back on his shoulders and looks up into the starry sky, smiling at the unfamiliar constellations of the Fae realm. With a sigh and a slight relaxation of his concentration, he lets his wings slip free.

He can’t spread them, for fear of setting the garden on fire, but having them out in the open is relief enough.

“Lovely.”

Dean’s wings flinch, but before he can slip them away, Castiel stops him with a touch to his shoulder.

“No, don’t,” Castiel murmurs. “Your flame poses no danger to me.”

Dean looks up at the dragon, and thinks the reflected gleam of his wings in Castiel’s eyes is far more beautiful than the stars. “Uh thanks. They were getting a little cramped.”

Castiel flares his own wings slightly. “I can imagine how uncomfortable that gets.”

Of course he does. As a dragon, Castiel is squeezing his whole body into a smaller form, not just hiding his wings.

“Yeah it’s not the greatest.” Dean slides over on the bench to give Castiel space. “Join me?”

His heart thumps almost painfully behind his ribs when Castiel accepts his invitation and settles on the stone seat. Even though Castiel is safe, Dean still pulls his wings away out of habit.

Castiel notices the gesture and smiles gently. He lifts a hand, but hesitates. “May I?”

Among his own kind, touching wings is an intimate gesture. Most people of other species would start to feel the burn before even getting close enough. Phoenixes aren’t exactly a dime a dozen, and Dean’s a little too rough around the edges to attract a mate from the Fae, so it’s been many years since he’s felt another’s touch in his feathers.

The urge to allow it is overwhelming. Only a lifetime of discipline keeps him from shoving his wing right into Castiel’s waiting hand. But his feathers ruffle up with anticipation anyway.

Unable to speak around his heart in his throat, Dean nods.

Castiel’s fingers sink into Dean’s flaming feathers, and they both let out a sigh. Dean in utter satisfaction, and Castiel in what looks like wonder.

The yellow flames turn the iridescent blue scales lining the back of Castiel’s hand a deep metallic green. He strokes through the feathers, threading them between his fingers, and Dean can’t help pressing his into the touch.

“Lovely,” Castiel says again, low and soft, smoke rising from embers.

Dean loses track of time as Castiel gently grooms the areas he can reach. His eyes nearly slip closed in pleasure, but he can’t look away from the awe gracing Castiel’s features, so he watches the dragon through drooping lids.

“You know,” Castiel says after a long silence broken only by the soft crackle of Dean’s flames. “Now that my work for your brother and new sister is completed, I’ll be visiting other realms for new contracts.”

Dean’s feathers dim with his disappointment. “So, I guess this is probably goodbye then?”

Castiel’s eyes flit from Dean’s wing, to lock on Dean’s gaze. “I was hoping that we could continue our relationship without the barrier of professionalism. If you don’t mind that I have to travel a lot for work.”

It takes everything Dean has not to burst into a pillar of flame. He manages to keep his excitement contained to a grin, and maybe a little extra heat under his skin. His clothes stay intact, even if he does catch a whiff of hot wool. Thank the gods for whoever invented spells for fireproofing. “I don’t mind at all, Cas.” He flutters his wings. “It’s not like I don’t have means of traveling to see you.”

Castiel’s smile is brighter than a flame. “I’m very happy to hear that.”

“Can I kiss you, Cas?” Dean blurts.

He receives his answer as a soft press of lips against his own. The kiss is gentle, almost chaste, but it’s more than Dean usually dares to hope for.

Dean doesn’t know what his face is doing when Castiel pulls back, but it’s probably something goofy and love-struck. “That was awesome.”

“Yes,” Castiel agrees.

And then they kiss again. And again. They kiss and touch and murmur endearments to each other under the rotating stars, until edge of the sky begins to fade from black to blue and the stars blink out of view.

#destiel #au mashup #oops i ficced #dragon!cas #phoenix!dean #alessariel

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incorrect-myinnerdemon-quotes · 5 years

Text

Leif’s Bet

Basically, an alternate Au consisting of writing I did on a whim and a one-shot pulled from Wattpad. Both made at different times so they're differently made. The first one was evolved from a crack post into a serious post so that’s why the beginning is so weird.

Contain’s swearing.

The first section is more detailed because I wasn't stressed with this first half, and the concept came later on in the making of the second part. The first part is set in Dameos the second part is set later on in the human world. This was made early on in the series, way before the courting thing became apparent I think.

Characters might be a little OCC mostly because they swear in the first part and it was mainly supposed to be just Asch and Rhys arguing and then Pierce's line and that's it, a joke, but it involved into a bigger concept.

Words: 2355

. . .

Asch sighed.

"Everything that we know and love is reducible to the absurd acts of chemicals and therefore there is no intrinsic value in this material universe," Asch explained, moving his hand around as he talked. Rhys shook his head. "Hypocrite that you are, for you trust the chemicals in your brain to tell you they are chemicals. All knowledge is ultimately based on that which we cannot prove. Will you fight? Or will you perish like a dog?" Rhys argued.

There they sat, in a tent, they were all meant to share, the tent was large at best and could fit them all into it. The night soon turned frigid as the only warmth came from Asch's power's which enhanced his body heat and the magic-powered lamp that was light in the middle of them. Turned away from the light of the lamp laid a boy wrapped in four thin blankets, clearly angry.

"I'm cold, angry, and done with everything right now. Can I please fucking sleep?" Pierce angrily asked turning over to the others. Leif was sat next to him, he made a gesture with his hand. "No, you may not," Leif decided, Pierce sat up the four blankets sliding off of him, and to his waist and glared at him. "Fuck you-" He said. "I'm trying to Piercey, you just don't seem to get any of the hints I'm putting on the table." Leif grinned, Pierce looked at him with a weirded outlook, feeling his face heat up possibly with anger. Before he could say something Asch interrupted him.

"AS I WAS SAYING-" Asch shouted. "Love means nothing, Leif has the right idea by not falling in love and only hooking up with people for a quick fuck you can achieve anything; if I don't fall in love like my brother I won't have to share my power anymore," Asch explained with a smug look on his face. "However, you easily seem to think that you won't eventually have to share that power with someone because if you don't then this kingdom will crumble if no one can become the heir to the throne, and it'll all be your fault." Rhy countered.

"You know... I really think we shouldn't start talking about this," Noi suggested with a nervous look on his face. "And I think we should and we will now shush, I'm thinking," Asch ordered, Noi sighed. When will anyone ever truly appreciate him? "Can we do something else maybe? Like maybe truth or dare?" Noi suggested.

Rhys looked at him. "That's... Actually a good idea," He looked over to Asch. "Your Highness, do you wanna go first?" Rhys asked. Asch held up a hand. "I'm thinking, I'll play later," Asch decided. "Anyone else then?" Rhys asked. "Me," Leif said. "Then you're first if no one was anything to say about it... Ask anyone you want a truth or dare." Rhys said. "Yes!"

"Alright," He put a hand up to his chin. "Hmmm... Pierce, truth or dare?" Leif asked.

"..."

"Dare," He sighed. "I'm too tired to care anymore."

Leif smirked at him. "You have made the worst decision of your life."

"And I'm too tired to care about that," Pierce replied.

"If you really swing both ways then you won't mind if I dared you to let me kiss you." Leif dared. "I say I swing both ways but that is only with a sword, this dare will change nothing Leif," Pierce stated. "A kiss from me changes everything baby, you won't be able to resist me after that," Leif said with a smirk. "I honestly doubt that,"

"Hold the fuck up for a second, I didn't ask to see boys kiss tonight when you two are going to kiss let me look away," Asch said. "And let me cover Noi's eyes too." Rhys goes to cover Noi's eyes. "I wish you luck in dealing with him." Rhys wished. "Gladly-"

"I wait for no one-" Leif stated.

"I feel sorry for whoever had to date you-"

"Look, are you just going to sit there and look pretty and not move towards or, are you going to move towards me so we can make out of what?" Leif asked with an impatient tone.

Pierce rolled his eye's and then moved toward till he was sitting in front of him, the blankets moved to his shoulders; he wasn't going to do this stupid dare and be even colder in the process of it. "Like I'd ever even consider until today the thought of me making out with you," Pierce said. "Well, maybe I can change that?" Leif smiled. "... I won't even ask questions..."

"Alright then, then I guess it's time to do that dare then, not that I mind of course." Leif moved towards him and Pierce looked away. "I'm too tired and cold for this," Pierce stated. "Then I guess I'll make you a little warmer then-" Leif said. "Oh please, like you ca-" He was interrupted when Leif wrapped his arms around his neck with a sly look, Pierce kept his arms still at his side, he never had really done this before, this was a first for him. "It always time to live a little, maybe you should try once and a while." And with that, Leif leaned in with a steady kiss.

Leif closed his eyes while Pierce's instead widened, he thought he was joking, he had never kissed someone before so he wasn't that sure what to do. He followed what Leif was doing and closed his eye's, he didn't kiss back but tried his best to pretend what to do. Asch angered scream really didn't help that much.

"I SAID LET ME LOOK AWAY FIRST!" Asch screeched looking away. "I'M NEVER GETTING THE IMAGE OUT OF MY HEAD-" Asch screeched.

The kiss soon ended as soon as it started, he opened his eye's to see Leif looking at him with a sly look a grin on his face, a few inches away from him. He licked his lips. "I'll make sure to leave some marks to make sure you remember this night especially." He could feel his face heat up, he didn't know how any of this didn't have an affect him, his face was slightly red like he had done this before which he had. And with that said he pulled him back into a kiss that was more aggressive than the last one.

Pierce froze, was this supposed to happen? Were they supposed to kiss another time or was this just Leif trying his hardest to persuade him into more that he didn't know much about it the first place? He didn't kiss back but he could tell Leif wanted him to with how hard he was trying to kiss, for a response back, either was it was overwhelming him too much. The blankets once wrapped around both of his shoulders was now hanging off one as the other was close to meeting the same fate, he leaned back trying to move away but Leif only leaned closer pressing against him.

He could feel Leif's arm's that were no longer wrapped around his neck be wrapped around his waist slowly finding there way down his back. Panic set in, what was going on around them? What did this mean? What did he mean when he said that?

"Leif! Don't try and stab him! Calm down! Calm down!" Rhy commanded, he was in a spot across from them, he moved to go and separate them. Pierce moved and pushed Leif away backing up to the spot he was previously at before all of this.

Pierce pushed Leif away while Rhy's hand's came in between them separating them with him in between. He took in a deep breath. He could feel every last touch lingering a little bit. He was glad that he ended it there, whatever he was saying about what he was going to do to him was slightly unnerving, especially how he had no real idea what it could have possibly meant and with how low his hands were planning to go. If this was how kissing really was like he felt like he could have gone without it for now.

Pierce looked up at Leif who was laughing it off as if it was nothing like Rhys wasn't scolding him or anything. Right now Pierce could say a lot of things, that he was confused mostly, and also very concerned that he literally just had his first kiss due to dare and not because someone was attracted to him and that kinda hurts. But one thought remained inside his head. 'How the hell is he warm and I'm not? I'm freezing over here, how come he gets to be warm and not me?!'

"And... I'm going to stop playing that... Forever... And besides, that wasn't a kiss." Pierce said wrapping the blankets around him again. "Oh just you wait, you'll want more-" Leif smirked.

"Oh shut the fuck up Leif we're having a discussion here," Asch demanded.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"We're having a discussion whether or not love is important or not, if you wanna fuck, you can fuck outside because this is more important than your love life which is pretty nonexistent-"

"Like you can say your's is any better-"

"Fuck you!"

"I'd rather not!"

. . .

Up. Left. Right. Down. Down Down. Left. Right. Right.

He mashed the same code on his buttons on the controller as he had a focused look on his face; he had to win. The actions of the characters flashed across the screen, colors clashing against colors as health slowly but surely was being cut down one by one. They both had the same amount of health, one more hit and one of them would lose; it couldn't be him.

Currently, Leif and Noi were both playing a fighting game, specifically, Portal Combat, a game he could declare he was the best player at. The only reason he and Noi were playing this was because of how much Ava was forcing them to all get along, she seemed to try and get the both of them to get along the most since they had the most tension between them, the one at second place was him and Pierce; but none of that mattered, the only thing that mattered was winning.

He just needed this final combination to win.

Up. Up. Down. Down. Left. Right. Left. Right.

The screen lit up as the final hit was thrown, a large K.O lit up on the screen. Leif's eye's sparkled as he watched the screen say 'leifishere WINS!' He sat up raising a fist in the air, he had won; he had almost won. Leif looked to Noi who had a frown on his face looking down at the ground, he lost, but he was about to finally win. Noi got up with a sigh. "I guess you are as good as you say you are in video games, Leif," Noi admitted, Leif grinned. "You bet I am! I better than everyone else here!" Leif cheered. "You probably are," Noi admitted.

Noi stood up with a sigh, and Leif followed behind him, there were a lot of things Leif was happy about today, how the blanket was something you would easily trip over, how clumsy Noi was and how the plan worked and he tripped over the blanket and fell, Leif, falling after him.

They fell, he couldn't describe how happy he was that he was this close to him, this close to victory that he had been craving for so long. So before Noi said anything he said something first. "You know, I've been waiting so long to do this, to be the first one to do this to you." Noi looked at him, face red, but curiosity swirling in his eyes made it just as tempting as the last kiss, so curious, so dumb, yet so relieving the bet was almost over. So what he did was close the gap between his and Noi's lips and kissed him.

When Leif pulled back from the kiss with a smirk on his face, Noi's face was red; Leif had won. Leif got up dusting off his clothes not bothering to help Noi up. "Thanks for the kiss Noi, your just as stupid as Pierce was with the dare, time to go get my prize!" Leif exclaimed, Noi sat up and looked at him with a confused look. "You... Didn't actually want to kiss me?..." Leif looked at him and then let out a loud laugh. "Do you really think I'd like you, none the less Pierce less likely?!" He chuckled.

"Why do you think he hates me so much? Because I did the same thing I did to you to him, except I wasn't as nice of a kisser as I was as you were, I thought you would have remembered it." Leif informed Noi eyebrows furrowed and he frowned, he really couldn't remember it. "All I'm gonna say is I'm still not done with him, nonetheless you, I made sure he never forgot that night, but I'm sure you'll forget this in due time," Leif explained this with a grin, Noi starred at him wide eyes. "Why... Why would you do this?"

"The only reason I kissed either of you was so I could get the best bed and be able to break a couple of rules without getting in trouble. It's called a bet, a bet that I could get both of your first kisses before anyone else did; and I won it." Leif bragged a grin on his face. "You two really are really stupid, no wonder you're so badly ranked, though I don't understand how Pierce isn't there with you, I should be the prince's knight, not him." He walked to the portal to the looking back to Noi who was still sitting at the floor staring at him with a sad look.

"Thanks for the win, I'll thank the other one later!" And with that, he walked through the portal and left Noi leaving confused, and hurt.

#kinda crack post #oneshot #writing #my writing #mid #my inner demons #my inner demons leif #my inner demons noi #my inner demons asch #my inner demons rhys #my inner demons pierce #honestly Leif was just mean #very mean #he did it cause he can thats all i can say

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reylo-musings · 5 years

Text

The Hemiola: Two sides of the same coin.

Y’all.

Y’all. I am so sorry. I literally have been non-existent for the better part of 18 months, and I’m truly sorry. I’ve sat down to write this meta like 8 times between December 2017 and now, and life has just been a LOT. But I’m here. It’s happening. Here ya go.

Sooooooo. For my non-music nerds out there, the word Hemiola probably means literally nothing to you so let’s try to all get on the same page first before diving into this music meta. There are a few videos out there that do a good job trying to explain the concept, but tbh, it’s a little difficult to grasp if rhythm and math aren’t your favorite subjects in the world, so don’t stress too much if you’re just giving this post a blank look, I don’t blame you.

In the simplest of terms, hemiola is a switch from an overall 2 beat division to a 3 beat division, or the other way around. This can either occur by actually stopping one beat division and changing to the other, or by using both divisions simultaneously on top of one another.

Imagine you have 6 pieces of candy and want to distribute them between friends, but you want to make sure that everyone gets the exact same amount. Mathematically, your only options would be 1 piece each to 6 people, 2 pieces each to 3 people, or 3 pieces each to 2 people. Or I guess technically you could say “screw you” to your friends, and keep all the candy yourself. You do you.

But for the purposes of talking about hemiola, we are most interested in the scenarios where the candies are divided between either 2 or 3 total people.

Musically, if you are given 6 notes, you can either choose to group them in sets of 2 or sets of 3. This grouping determines the “meter” of the piece. Meters which group notes in sets of 2 are called “simple” and those that group in sets of 3 are called “compound”.

This is why you may see music written in a 3/4 meter, but also music in a 6/8 meter, even though mathematically they reduce to the same fraction. 3/4 meter is the simple meter, the one where the 6 candies are shared equally between 3 people.

6/8 meter is the compound meter, the one where the 6 candies are shared equally between only 2 people.

Musically, each piece of candy represents 1 eighth note. A 3/4 meter puts the emphasis on every other note and a 6/8 meter places the emphasis on every third note.

Some of the most common instances of hemiola in musical literature will be totally switching from the 3/4 meter to the 6/8 one and continuing back and forth as often as you would like. The most popular of these examples is in “America” from West Side Story. Here’s a video. Visually, the pattern looks like this:

This can also be visualized by looking at the eighth notes more clearly.

The emphasis on the words “I” and “Be” establish the 3 note grouping, but then the punctuation of the syllables in “Me Ri Ca” establish a 2 note grouping. If you watch the video until around 3:35, the choreography has them clapping on all the unstressed beats and they change from sets of 2 short claps to 3 more spread out claps and back and forth. The lighter unlined boxes in each color represent those unstressed beats they are clapping on.

So, this video is super awesome and ties all this stuff together nicely. It gets a little jargon-y but the first 5 minutes or so are what’s really great to listen to. Especially the part around 3:50 where he talks about the implied hemiola that exists in the GoT theme, cause we’re coming back to that.

Ok, so, kinda getting it? Sorry this turned into a bit of a music theory lesson. But here’s the wrap up:

In a hemiola, there is no one side that is “right” or “wrong”. Both sides are mathematically equal to one another. They are perfectly balanced with one another and the power can either shift from one to the next, or they can operate simultaneously within the same duration of time.

They are two sides of the same coin.

Ah, there it is. Now you see where I’m going with this. =)

Ok, so, Throne Room battle. That’s where we at. The music here is genuinely really hard to analyze aurally. If I had some actual sheet music to look at, that’d be great, but I ain’t got that so we’re just going with our ears.

The normal type of music that we’re used to hearing out in the world is consistent steady-metered music. 99% of your pop songs are written in a simple 4/4 meter and never change. If they’re not in 4/4, they’re probably in 3/4 or 12/8 but still usually stay consistent the whole time. This feels good to our brains as background music.

Battle music? Not super effective if it’s nice and consistent. The constant fluctuation of meters and rhythms and tempos and all that jazz puts us mentally on-edge. If the battle music is too consistent, we as viewers will subconsciously think we already know what’s going to happen. We feel at ease and won’t be so anxious. (Spoiler alert: Composers can also use this for shock value by making you too comfortable when the on-screen action is juxtaposingly overwhelming and then use it to hurt you when there’s a twist. They’re sneaky. They enjoy your pain.)

The throne room battle music? Very inconsistent. Honestly, so much inconsistency that I genuinely cannot determine the meter for good chunks of it. But there are a few key points where Williams does actually bring enough stability back to determine some semblance of structure. We first really start to hear this structure after the room starts burning. When the battle first started, they were back to back fighting the same enemy from two sides, but as they get separated and things start falling apart around them, they are each fighting their own individual battles. This notion becomes most obvious when there is the moment we see Kylo look over as Rey gets hurt. We as viewers recognize that they are fighting for the same goal, but they each have to be strong enough individually in order to reach it. One of them can’t just carry the other on their back to get there together.

In this moment, the music is actually a bit difficult to hear over everything else happening on-screen, so the soundtrack is a bit more telling. The track for this is “A New Alliance”.

The barebones is this: There is an overall very pounding, berating feel; lots of heavy emphasized notes that are in “simple” meter. It’s worth noting that Rey doesn’t get as much battle screen time as Kylo, but seeing as she’s fighting 1 and he’s fighting like 6 at a time, that completely makes sense. The longest on-screen battle action she gets once the room starts burning is after she’s gotten hurt and we see the sequence where she’s kicked to the ground and she gets back up and keeps fighting. During her on-screen action, the music changes. But not just the music, we get a hemiola. It’s more of that implied hemiola in the GoT intro, but definitely still an overall hemiola. Her theme is played in a 2:3 ratio to the stomping simple meter music we’ve been hearing through Kylo’s screen time. After it cuts back to him, his stomp music comes back. It cuts to Rey again after Kylo is in the head lock, and we again hear her theme hemiolaed (Is that a word? It is now.) over the existing “simple” time, but it sorta dissolves back into the agitated music.

Overall, this is not a lot to dig apart musically because it all happens so quickly and not for very long, but the concept is very much there. We are hearing this musical ratio, this balanced relationship, and it is a clear development from what we’ve heard from their previous battle music. There’s a now REALLY old meta that I wrote about 238 eons ago (at least that’s how long it feels it’s been since early 2016) that dealt with the relationship of Rey and Kylo’s music during the Starkiller battle. The boiled down version of that meta was that each of their themes was being affected by the other’s. Rey’s got darker, Kylo’s lost its stability.

This however is a new kind of relationship between their themes. No, we aren’t hearing Kylo’s typical 5-note theme, but let’s be honest, the man fighting in that room back to back with Rey after murdering Snoke wasn’t exactly “Kylo Ren” anymore. I’m not saying that he was exactly “Ben Solo” at this point, but whoever he was, that boy don’t got his own theme yet. He does have a concept though. He’s primal, he’s basic, and he’s a bit emotional. The music we hear for him shows that concept. It’s sporadic, yet simplistic. Rey’s theme has never really changed all that much. We’ve seen other moods leech into it slightly, but she’s stayed pretty consistent within herself and how she handles life. She’s just learned how to hone in on stuff now.

So this new kind of relationship, this coexisting rhythmic beauty, is just lovely to my musical reylo ears. We are really getting this “two sides of the same coin” idea from every side. We’ve gotten it in costumes. We’ve gotten it in dialogue. We’ve gotten it in cinematography. And now we get it in music. Everyone is stepping up to the plate in their own respects to show this fantastic ying-yang concept that exists between the two halves of our protagonist, and John Williams is no exception.

For the many many of you who have been asking about a “reylo” theme, this is the best I can offer you for right now. I’m sorry that it’s music theory jargon heavy, and I’m really sorry if you have just been blank staring at this whole post and not following me at all. It really is honestly the PERFECT musical representation of these two, and my music nerd brain is loving it to death, even if it only lasted for like 6 measures out of the entire score of the film.

#reylo #music meta #my musings

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beautifulletdownfics · 5 years

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harry is fine and nina is fine too: part iii

Nina's late.

She's late and thanks to the puddle she managed to plonk through when crossing the road, she also has wet shoes and socks. The rain trickles a path down the back of her neck as she tripple checks crossing the street, little smatterings making their way onto her face as her umbrella fights off the latest gust of wind.

Leaving her class this afternoon, something in her had thought it would be nice to walk home instead of jumping on the subway like she usually would. She missed the fresh, crisp air of Blackpool and some part of her liked the painful chill that sunk through her. There was something nostalgic about the cold and the wet, and she was missing England with a newfound force since seeing Rodger and Adriana the day before.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Nina calls down the hallway at the front door, “New Yorker’s don’t know how to walk when it's raining. Have you started without me?"

"Just put the meat in, don't stress," Jane was leaning up against the kitchen bench waiting for Nina to appear from the entranceway, "We said seven anyway."

The clock on the wall read 6:45pm.

Nina frowns, "I'm on dinner, I left on time, but you people lose your shit in this weather."

"We're not used to it," Jane defends lightly, "Wine?"

"Please," Nina nods, pulls off her coat and scarf and hangs them over a dining chair, "Is Sarah in yet?" she watches Jane shake her head, "I'll be right back."

Their apartment is tiny, and it's probably too small for the three of them who share it. But it works somehow. Jane and Sarah had been housemates for years before Nina moved into the tiny study, or "third bedroom". It felt nice to move into an established home unit, the three girls did their Friday night dinners once a month and Sunday brunches, and they kept up with each other's lives. It helps ease Nina's homesickness.

It doesn't matter to Nina that her room isn't much bigger than the size of her bed, with only room to shuffle around one side of it to the tiny standing wardrobe in the corner, also touching the bed. She spends most of her days out, and she has found herself suddenly comforted by small spaces. Nina hides in this tiny room on weekend afternoons. She feels as though her world is incredibly small, instead of feeling the chronic and overwhelming sprawling expanse of thousands upon thousands of miles between where she is and where she is from.

"How was work?” Nina asks Jane when she returns to the kitchen, pulling potatoes from a tub under the sink and making sure none of them rolls off the bench before going on the hunt for other vegetables suitable for roasting.

"Fine," Jane replies, "My boss went home at lunch, so we all took off early as well. Did you have a good time with your friends last night?”

Nina’s heart swelled and sunk at the same time if that was possible, “It was so lovely to see them. Saying goodbye sucked.”

Jane looks at her sadly, taking a seat at their small dining table so Nina could monopolise the use of the whole kitchen space. Nina pretends she doesn’t notice the look. She’s tried hard all day not to dwell too much on what it might mean that I was so painful to say goodbye to Rodger. She’s doing her best not to think of everyone else she’s missing too.

"Oh, this one's nice," Nina comments, taking her first sip of wine. "I didn't realise how ready for a weekend I was. I heard earlier the rain is supposed to clear up overnight and tomorrow should be nice and—“

“—I'm home and I brought cake!"

Sarah barrels down the hallway, bags hanging off her arm, her collapsed umbrella raised above her head like a weapon of war. Nina rushes across to save the cake box shoved under Sarah’s arm, the familiar stamp of the bakery Sarah is a pastry chef at stamped over the top.

“It might be a touch soggy,” Sarah says quickly, accidentally hitting the hanging light with her umbrella and scaring herself, “But we can put it in the oven and fix that.”

Nina and Jane laugh at their housemate, she’s dripping wet and yet, red-faced and happy. Nina feels a lightness in her chest that had been wound too tight all day.

Maybe it was the wine.

Two more bottles appear from Sarah’s handbag, “I called both of you, did we need wine?”

Jane claps her hands together, “No but ooh goodie. Does anyone have anything in the morning?”

Nina’s laughing, and it feels good, but there’s something just a whisper from her heart, and it’s bringing tears to her eyes. Laughing with Rodger last night had felt the same, as though she was watching something she knew would disappear again very soon and there was no way to prolong it.

“Wine is probably a terrible idea for me right now,” She confesses, chopping away at the vegetables and trying to keep her voice light.

“Nina’s homesick,” Jane explains to Sarah easily.

Sarah’s dumped everything on the floor by the kitchen door and is tugging at the outer layers of her clothing, there’s a momentary pause as she recalls Nina’s friend’s from home having been in town, “How was last night?”

“Lovely,” Nina responds, “So lovely. They looked tan and happy from their honeymoon.”

“I bet they’ve missed you,” Sarah says in the dangerously disarming way that Nina can never quite match up to the raucous, loud woman she usually is. It’s a small nudge to getting further into Nina’s head.

When she first moved in, Nina had told herself that New York was a fresh start and these two new women in her life wouldn’t be getting Sad Nina. Moving in with Sarah and Jane was an opportunity to make a life in New York that wasn’t tied up in Harry. Nina didn’t want them to know what had happened to her relationship, she couldn’t dwell on it. She refused.

But before she moved in the girls had obviously Googled her to find what they would have thought would just be a Facebook page. They had just wanted to check Nina Lawrence actually existed and was a real human, but they fell upon far more than they had bargained for.

It had been an awkward few first weeks living with them. Mainly because there was no juicy break-up story. Nina had nothing bad to say about Harry.

Not a thing.

He lands in New York and heads straight to the apartment.

It is a minefield of Nina,. He brought it when they were together. Harry sold his place in Los Angeles— because she hated it there and would never travel with him if that was the destination—and instead, he got this apartment in New York.

She always loved this city, and the time they spent together in this apartment was always fun and romantic and settling. Hearing that Nina had moved here had been shocking, but it wasn’t a surprise she had picked New York.

Where Harry’s house in London is old and homey—with nooks and crannies, ornate finishes and a pleasant, comforting undercurrent of quintessential Englishness—the flat in New York is modern and sleek, with an open plan concept that makes Harry feel artistic and languid.

The first thing Harry does when he arrives is open three windows and take the cover off the baby grand piano Nina was furious at him for buying at the time.

He props open the cover and then sits at the bench, lifting the lid off the keys. The smell of the internal wood wafts over him slowly, and Harry tinkers with a few notes before making himself more comfortable in the seat and finding a familiar melody to play through.

He owes her his ability to play the piano so well now. Nina taught Harry herself, and now everything from his posture to the way he no longer watches his hands is wrapped up in her gentle voice, patiently correcting him while holding up his chin with delicate fingers.

Harry watches the pins inside the instrument flick in and out as he plays, striking the corresponding keys, and finally, he has the first hint of doubt hit him about being in New York.

What is he doing? If she needed or wanted him in her life she would have reached out, Nina knew she could call him for anything. Didn’t she? She had to know that.

The thing is though that Harry needs her. He’s tired of missing her. He needs to hear her voice—see her—because he misses her so much that he’s forgotten what not missing Nina feels like. What was it like to just come home and know she would be there? He wants to go back to being able to get through a writing session without having a panic attack.

In eight months of separation, Harry’s not managed to record a single song to completion. He barely makes it through singing through the demo versions. All of it is about her, and it’s like his brain can’t comprehend or sit with the knowledge that Harry and Nina are done, and he’s only ever going to be writing old memories, not making new ones with her.

Hearing from Rodger had scared him. Harry’s worried that Nina isn’t happy. Whatever Rodger saw that led to him calling Harry must have been significant.

Harry’s fingers stop on the piano keys suddenly. He has to call her. Rodger sent through a text after their phone call with Nina’s new phone number. The number Harry has saved wasn’t even right anymore.

The new one is a US number, and Harry’s hands shake, but he knows he has to do it.

He hits call and immediately wants to scream. He’s on his feet and repeating ‘fuck’ under his breath when someone—Nina—picks up.

“Hello, Nina speaking.”

Fuck.

“Nina … It’s Harry.”

“Harry?” Her voice breaks in such a subtle way he nearly misses it, he drops his chin to his chest and shuts his eyes.

“Yeah. Hi.”

Nina doesn’t say anything.

“I’m in New York, and I’d really like to see you.”

Nina’s glad she only had one glass of wine at dinner.

Sarah and Jane have both stopped speaking and are watching Nina with her phone to her ear, not saying anything. They heard her say her ex-boyfriend's name over the conversation about who was going to win The Bachelor.

“Nina?”

“Nina?” Jane repeats what Harry just said in her ear.

Harry.

Nina stands and walks to her room. She shuts her eyes against the closed door and tries to swallow her heart back down to its place.

He repeats her name again and then waits a moment, “Are you there?”

“Yep … You’ve got shows?” Nina hadn’t seen anything about him playing in New York, but then she’s never been brave enough to have a Google news alert for him. She’s scared of what she might see.

Harry coughs, “No. I’m here to see you. If you’ll let me.”

“Let you?”

The notion was almost as ridiculous as the idea Harry might have flown to New York purely to see her.

“You can say you don’t want to,” He sounds hurt, and Nina hates herself for it.

She shakes her head and sits on her bed, “Sorry, I … When will work for you? I’m free most of tomorrow—”

—Tonight. Can I see you now?”

Nina’s petrified. She has no idea how this is happening, how it went from being a Friday where she did all her Friday things and then came home and made Friday night dinner with her housemates, and now she’s on the phone to Harry, and he wants to see her.

She’s dizzy from adrenaline and Nina’s sure the instant she sees him she won’t be able to hold off the tears. Even hearing his voice sets her missing him on fire and fills her with longing.

“I can come to meet you if that’s easier …”

“It’s late,” He says gently, “I’ll come to you. Send me your address?”

#ss extras #drabbles #fic: someday someday #hina

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houseofvans · 5 years

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ART SCHOOL | INTERVIEW WITH BUNNIE REISS

A combination of folk art, psychedelia, nature, magic, stars and animals, the artworks by LA based artist Bunnie Reiss imagines a visual language and beauty that is both narrative and full of storytelling. Bunnie’s large scale murals have been and are still popping up all over Los Angeles, so we wanted to catch up with this talented lady to find out more about how she got interested in art, the subjects and themes of her work, and what she’s got coming up the rest of the year!

Photographs courtesy of the artist | Portrait by Tod Seelie

Could you introduce yourself to everybody? I’m Bunnie Reiss, muralist, installation artist and painter, living and working in Los Angeles. My work is a combination of folk art from my eastern European background, places I’ve traveled around the world, psychedelic dreams, strange imaginary worlds, nature, magic, the stars and animals.

I’ve worked really hard to create a fairly diverse career that includes painting huge 9-story buildings, designing custom patterns for fashion icons like Isabel Marant, building large space boats that float on imaginary clouds, and writing/illustrating children’s books. It keeps me crazy busy, and I am grateful to be living such a full life.

I own a 5 acre property in Landers, just outside of Joshua Tree, where we go for breaks from crazy city life and often gather with many of my artist friends. It’s super magical and I love it out there. I also have a very small Maine Coone kitty named Robert Plant that I treat like a dog and comes everywhere with me ;)

How did you first find yourself creating art or being interested in art? I was a tiny rebel with a large imagination, and I kinda knew from the beginning that I didn’t fit in. There are no other artists in my family, and I was definitely the odd ball. Art was, like most misunderstood kids, the only thing that felt really good to me. I loved museums, fashion, weird books and storytelling. There seemed to be huge worlds that were out there, and I had zero fear in discovering them. Recently a family friend sent a package with tons of drawings and art I did for her when I was a child, and it’s amazing to see the same imagery I use now in many of the funny things I drew as a kid.

How would you describe your work to someone who perhaps is just coming across it for the very first time? What would you want that person to maybe take away from it? As I mentioned above, my work is crazy combo of different things: Eastern European folk art, nature, imaginary worlds, psychedelic landscapes, animals. I have worked hard on my own visual language, my own dictionary, and continue to do so. It is an ever expanding vocabulary that I hope will keep growing until the day I die. I always want people to feel like they have a sense of place, that they can feel good, even for just a brief moment in the day (which is actually a tall order for most people). I want people’s imagination to go crazy when they see one of my murals!

What are your favorite things to paint or draw in your works? I absolutely love painting animals. They are my top. And hands are right below that.

In your various works you often paint portraits of animals, hands, mythical creatures and the natural world. Tell us about your subjects and themes you explore in your works? I have fairly consistent imagery, but the conversations are always different. For instance, the children’s book I wrote and illustrated a few years ago, The Cosmic Child, was actually about Plato’s Cosmology and the idea that we have a twin star in the universe. It was a book about never feeling alone. I like taking my simple imagery and combining it with complicated stories. It adds a layer of honesty and vulnerability. I am currently working on a new book about climate change, that will consist of 50 animal portraits. I decided that instead of trying to explain why climate change is such an important issue, I am using the idea of irreversible loss to describe what is might feel like to loose entire species. Visual art is so interesting because you don’t often get the back-story about why someone has made what they have made, but you can usually feel the emotion behind it. That to me is really successful, thoughtful work.

When your working developing a new painting or piece, how does it begin - take us from sketchbook, to color choices, to finished painting? I an an avid sketchbook user, and I tend to try and do as many drawings as possible, with no specific direction. It take the pressure off of things having to be ‘something’ and keeps things really interesting. When I’m ready to work on a body, I look back over the sketchbooks to see if there is a connection to any of the drawings. Sometimes I go back to sketchbooks from 5 years ago! Sometimes entire sketchbooks become dedicated to one idea. This process allows for a very organic build of my paintings. I am almost always looking at animal references, old quilts and folk art, and reading about magic symbols and the universe. All of my paintings and murals come from my sketchbooks, and are often repainted over and over again in different ways or patterns. I like exploring how many times I can do a single image and make it look unique. My color palette is fairly consistent, and I will push on darker or lighter themes (navy blues vs pastels), depending on what the mood I’m working with is. I like painting on antique papers and things that already have energy living in them, and my colors will be based off of the color of the papers. Mural walls are treated similarly, where I’m often trying to preserve and enhance the architecture of the building. I generally try and tie in my murals with something local, like an animal that is native, a myth about the city, the state flower, etc. It’s really fun and usually feels like some kind of treasure map where I’m unearthing weird facts about the places I paint.

What’s a typical day in the studio for you like? And what are you currently working on in or out of the studio? I try and keep regular day hours as often as possible in my studio, because if I don’t I sorta become a vampire who stays up all night and sleeps all day. I bring Robert Plant, my kitty, with me and he’s always around when I’m working. Sometimes I have to ‘clean’ all day long in order to actually get to painting. Sometimes I have to organize and move things around, or do other weird stuff, in order to get things going. It all depends on my mood. I just wrapped a bunch of paintings for my last show at KP Projects in Los Angeles, and that particular body of work will continue for a while. It’s mostly portraits of animals that are extinct or close to extinction, and ties into my book as well. I am always working on mural concepts, and there are tons of drawings and sketches on my walls that may or may not turn into murals. I also quilt sometimes and love to sew, especially when I am not feeling very inspired to paint. Murals and other public work can be fairly demanding, and quilting helps me to recoup when I have wrapped a big project and need to take a little break from painting.

How do you unplug yourself so to speak? What do you do to center or re-focus yourself if you find yourself stressed out about deadlines, art shows, and the sort? It’s definitely challenging, especially when you live in such a wild city like Los Angeles. I am so grateful to have a property in the desert, and I will often go out there for a few days to unplug and just be in the quiet. The stars are amazing, and laying on my deck and staring up at the sky does wonders for my brain. I also love to ride my bike and will sometimes go out on night rides, which tends to help me refocus and feel like I’m back in my body. When I have time, surfing is the absolute best! Painting, especially big things, takes you out of your physical body and puts you in a deep space of meditation. You are usually on a large lift, far away from anyone, concentrating but also kinda in a trance. You don’t really feel much of anything. When you finish a large project, you feel everything come back into you, and it can be overwhelming and exhausting. It’s imparitive that you find outlets that really help you to keep going at a healthy pace without getting to rundown.

What inspires you and your art? What are things that influence what you do and what you make? My imagination keeps me really busy, but reading Popular Science, going to libraries and book stores, walking in neighborhoods that I’m unfamiliar with, and traveling to countries where I do not speak the language keep me filled with information. I love architecture and looking at buildings, I get obsessed with walls I want to paint and will sometimes drive by to visit them. Going out in nature and just listening to the trees speaking to each other is pretty amazing.

Not only do you create painting, but you have been doing large scale mural works for quite a bit. How did that start and how different is it for you compared to works on paper or canvas? What do you like about muraling and what do you find to be the most challenging part of it? I lived in the Bay Area for a long time (well over a decade) and space was always an issue. I loved painting big, but hated trying to store anything after I was finished. I would also get fairly lonely working in my studio for long hours, and liked interaction, but a very specific kinds. Public art and mural painting solved a lot of these problems. I could paint HUGE and leave it, walk away, never look at it again. It was a freedom that I loved, and the very special was to interact with people and neighborhoods. At the time, it was so unique and didn’t compare to anything I had ever done. This was a long time ago, and I still feel exactly the same way. There is no better way to understand a community, a city, a neighborhood, then painting outside and really being a part of it. And people are so happy and grateful that you are adding something beautiful to their neighborhood. I also love that murals are free for people to look at, and so many demographics are affected by the work. You never know who will see it and be inspired. It’s powerful and humbling at the same time, mostly because the work is incredibly physical. It sometimes feels like you are running a marathon, painting for 12-15 hours a day, dealing with weather and trouble-shooting all kinds of strange things that can happen with different kinds of walls. I love big boom lifts, dancing and singing when I am way up high with my headphones on. I have such a great time when I am painting a monster wall in the sun! I can’t stand painting in the cold ;)

What’s been one of your most rewarding projects? And what kind of challenges did you face and how did you overcome them? This past year I was invited by the United Nations to paint a mural in Mexico City on climate change. It was amazing! I painted at the largest market in Mexico, and it was nuts. So much going on around me, so much pollution mixed with sun blasting a huge wall for more than half the day. I loved it, but it was also pretty crazy.

Since we call this feature, Art School, what tip do you have for artists and folks interested in becoming an artist? Work hard, harder than you ever thought you could work, but also work smart. You have a very long career, and lots of time to develop your own style and really build your craft. There is no rush, and your work will be that much better if you take the time to really develop who you are as an artist. Also, ask for help. Reach out to other artists and see if they need help. Be an active community member and don’t isolate yourself too much in the studio. Have fun! Travel the world ;)

Who are some important artists, past or present, you are inspired by? Remedios Varo Johannes Vermeer Louise Bourgeois Antoni Gaudi Shel Silverstein

So we gotta ask what are your FAVORITE Vans? The Era.

What do you have planned for the coming up? What are you looking forward to starting? Mural season is in full-swing, and it’s going to get really busy, with murals everything month until the end of the year. I am working super hard on my climate change book, and putting together a few projects that will tie in with that project. (and maybe a book tour). I continue to build up my desert property, and love that I can put energy into it slowly and really make it a life-long art project. I am working on expanding my mural practice into 3D objects, mosaics tiles, furniture and playgrounds. My murals are only one part of a much larger puzzle that I am putting together, and soon you will get to see entire worlds built by me. It’s an exciting time!!

FOLLOW BUNNIE | WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM

#Art #Vans #Vans Art #Art School #Interview #Bunnie Reiss #painting #muralist #mural #female artist #creativity #inspiration

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angeltriestoblog · 6 years

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Your Comprehensive Guide to Passing the College Entrance Tests

College entrance tests season is a time in my life that I look back on with equal parts pain and fondness, which somewhat serves as a justification as to why I’ve been putting off this post for so long. Although I spent many sleepless nights re-absorbing lessons I never even got in the first place—all while having to deal with agonizing self-doubt and anxiety—I guess it’s safe to say that it was all worth it. After all, ya girl passed three out of the four universities she applied for: I have yet to find out if UP is willing to take me under their wing, but whether or not they want me, I can say that I am very much contented with my results.

Since I feel I’m in a position to speak on a topic like this, I’m back at it again and ready to help anyone about to tackle the beasts that are the CETs this year. I’m dividing this post into three parts, which will contain tips on how to go about everything before, during and after taking what most consider to be the most important tests of your life.

Obligatory disclaimer: This is ridiculously long and not everything that I’ve written here will apply to you, but hey, if I were you, I’d start taking down notes.

BEFORE THE TEST

One thing most people fail to stress when giving advice on this topic is the importance of adopting the best mindset. Understand that the CETs are a very serious and urgent matter, for you are tasked with preparing for the succeeding chapters of your life all within a short time frame, but at the same time, don’t allow the pressure that comes with it to lead to overthinking and comparison that will ultimately distract you from achieving your goal: passing. Stay driven and positive, and focus on yourself.

Now, on to the actual studying part. I’d hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the best way to breeze through these exams without breaking a sweat is by being a good student all throughout high school. Be the type to maintain a stellar general weighted average, keep all notes taken down during the past four years in an expanding file folder instead of using them to wrap dried fish and join as many extracurricular activities as possible. If you’ve already failed at this, it’s time to proceed to Plan B: review school.

I personally didn’t enroll in any classes over the summer, because I thought they only took place during the month of April, which was when my parents had scheduled our overseas trip for the year. Well, apparently, I couldn’t have been any less well researched and by the time I found out, it was already far too late. So, I had made the decision to opt for self-study. For some reason, I was the only one in the household who was worried out of my mind: my parents were very much convinced that I would be able to handle reviewing on my own, and prove that review school was not a requirement for acceptance into prestigious universities. I was touched by their unwavering confidence in me, but every word felt like an additional kilogram I had to carry on my back.

I got by through borrowing old review modules from my dentist (Tita Meng, I have no idea how you’re ever going to read this, but thank you so much for saving my life… and also straightening my teeth) and downloading sample tests from the Internet for me to test my knowledge later on. My efforts never felt like they were enough for me though: I remember looking up the curriculum for each subject I needed to tackle on the website of the Department of Education, researching each sub-topic that was vague to me and Khan Academy-ing my way to proficiency. Definitely an unnecessarily extra way to tackle the reviewing process, but hey, my mind was very much laden with doubt and I was willing to do the most. I also put up cartolinas on my bedroom walls with formulas for different Math and Science subjects, which proved itself useful since I actually spend a decent amount of my time staring off into space.

If the thought of doing all of this alone is stressing you out, then maybe it’s time to go down what is considered by most to be the safe route: enrolling in a review school. Doing so will provide you with all the lessons covered during high school in the form of actual lectures with qualified teachers, and hardbound notes that often come with sample tests that resemble the real thing. It guides you through the application process as well as gives updates on the schedules of most universities, and helps in parts of the test that cannot be achieved by poring over textbooks such as essay writing and even techniques for plain old guessing. All these benefits seem to provide their students with the confidence boost to top everything off, and I admit that I did feel inferior to most of my peers at some point for this reason. They all just seemed so put together, so at ease with their binders and pastel highlighters that it made me go through a period of regret and resentment. Do not let the perceived advantage they have blind you, though: do note that even if attending a review school helps you ace the entrance test, it does not measure your aptitude nor your ability to handle the workload that you will have to face as you make your way in the university of your choice.

Because I had to do everything alone, I had firsthand experience when it comes to waging a war with time: it was truly my biggest enemy during this point in my life. It’s obviously crucial to create a schedule and follow it regularly. If you’re anything like me, you’ve read this in several self-help books or heard this over and over again on productivity podcasts but planning truly is key. First, list down all the topics that you want to cover, complete with the estimated time it’ll take you to master them. Then, distribute them per day evenly so you don’t end up overwhelming yourself and cramming so much information in your head that you barely get to retain anything. It’s important to have a contingency plan ready as well, in case you needed more time digesting a particular topic.

Eliminate all distractions while reviewing. This is a cardinal rule for studying in general, so it will definitely increase in importance during a time like this. One thing I found important is to tell yourself why you have to do it, so it’s easier for you to follow through. For example, I’m pretty addicted to watching YouTube videos, so having to cut down my marathons and look at the number of videos on my Watch Later pile up was a bit painful at first. But upon conditioning my mind into thinking that I’d rather spend my five month summer vacation before college binge watching all the videos I had missed out on instead of looking for a university that was still ready to accept me, it was much easier for me to cut down on it.

Remember to prioritize breadth over depth. Cover as many topics as you possibly can, going over the basic concepts and important formulas. Then, knock yourself out with practice tests so that you’re fully familiarized with them by the time CETs roll in, because you never know how even the simplest questions can be twisted around to baffle you. A common mistake most incoming seniors make (myself included) is overthinking what could possibly be asked and going too into detail when reviewing. In my defense, it seemed like the natural thing to do during a situation of panic but if I had only known, I would have been able to save so much of my time and devote it to mastering everything I had learned.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help if ever the need arises, whether it be from teachers, friends or upperclassmen. It might come off as a surprise to some of you, but there are many people who will be more than willing to help you, whether out of pity or genuine human decency. I asked tons of my classmates if I could borrow the notes they received from their review center, so I could learn more than I could have on my own (and maybe even compare their progress with mine). Sometimes, I’d disturb them at ungodly hours and call them up on Messenger to plead them to teach me the shortcuts in problem solving, mnemonics or acronyms. I was never the type of person to do that: honestly speaking, it felt like a direct blow to my pride to have to beg for something. But, it was my future at stake and upon remembering that, I no longer felt any shame [shrugs]

On another (but equally important) note: stay on top of your requirements for the different universities you’ll be applying to. Although they don’t normally start until July or August, it’s much better to get these out of the way as early as possible. Take it from me, who ran around Megamall looking for a photo studio a week before ACET apps needed to be passed. Stock up on ID pictures of different sizes, preferably 1x1, passport size and 2x2. Photocopy important documents like your birth certificate and grades forms, as well as your ID from the current or previous school year. Start thinking of who to ask recommendation letters from, brush up on your essay writing and interview skills and work on your CV if needed. Also, have a scanner ready if you plan on trying out for La Salle, since their application process is purely online. Be sure to keep track of your deadlines: don’t wait around for people to remind you, and please please please For The Love Of God do not cram everything until the very last second.

Strive to finish reviewing over summer break so you don’t have to worry about balancing CETs and academics, which is an entirely different playing field. I’ll come clean and say that I failed to do this, because there were still so many topics I couldn’t understand and questions I couldn’t find the answers to, even with the guidance of the Internet. Let me tell you, it was absolute hell as I didn’t have the time or brain capacity to digest lessons both for school and entrance tests. Please have mercy on yourself and focus on the classes you are to take during the school year, flipping through notes and flash cards sparingly when you have free time.

Now for the part that will probably be most useful to you all: the actual subject matter to study, focused specifically on the entrance tests for the Big 4 universities. Don’t use this as the sole basis of your review, since it’s not a guarantee that the topics covered this year will be the same as the succeeding ones. I remember looking up this one CET tips thread which said that the ACET was going to have mostly geometry-related questions. Since Ateneo is my dream school, I spent a ridiculous amount of time cramming everything from theorems to tangents in my head. So, you could just imagine my surprise when I actually took my test and was greeted by a maximum of four geom questions and a predominantly Algebra II and Trigonometry-centered Math portion.

ACET

Language proficiency

This test will assess your knowledge on basic grammar: correct usage of verb tenses, S-V agreement, analogy-type and a cloze test, where you are required to fill in the blanks with the appropriate word for the sentence. It also included an essay question about a particular word that differed from session to session. I had to make one on the word “superstition”, so I had written something on how I didn’t believe in them because I was raised by my family with a very strong faith in God. One tip people give out a lot is to try and relate your answer to either love for God or being a man for others, but do it only if it doesn’t come out forced. From what I remember, we were given 50 minutes to answer all of this, and I don’t mean to come off as boastful but English is and has always been my first language, so it didn’t serve as a problem on my part.

Mathematical ability

This test is feared most by previous test takers, and it was only when I crawled my way through it that I realized why it has that reputation. It’s composed primarily of basic algebra, algebra II and trigonometry questions, all of which are quite lengthy and require a decent amount of time to think through, especially if you’re not really the best in this subject.

Abstract reasoning

This test… Boy, what do I even say? It requires you to pick out the figure or shape that completes the pattern. There were 30 items all in all that needed to be accomplished within 10 minutes, and I couldn’t tell anything apart from each other. I feel anyone who tells you they took this test seriously and finished it without breaking a sweat is just messing with you. I don’t think there’s any way to answer this test without turning to our old friend (the shotgun method).

Logical reasoning

This test includes questions with a set of premises that you are supposed to analyze, and a list of choices containing possible conclusions that can be drawn from them. Your task is to pick the most logical one, which sounds like common sense at first. Apparently, this was a topic discussed in General Math, so there is a certain set of rules to follow. Not only did I not remember ever taking this up in my life, but I also skipped it during review so I had to borrow my classmate’s book and cram everything I could during ACET week (DEFINITELY NOT ADVISABLE). There was one part of the test that involved a lot of technical terms, which I did not read about or study but thank God ya girl was desperate enough and ended up finding hints in the instructions!

Vocabulary

Pretty self-explanatory type of test, with 25 words in five minutes. It seems overwhelming, but contrary to popular belief, it’ll be easy even for those who aren’t voracious readers.

Reading comprehension

This test will require you to fully understand the message of the text, and apply it practically or draw sensible conclusions from it. I breezed through this one as well, because I’ve been reading since I was in the womb, but this can prove to be difficult for those who aren’t used to it. I’ve been seeing this tip circulating that goes “Look at the questions first before the passage itself, so you know what to find” and although it can fool just about any lazy reader out there, I tried it for myself during the ACET because I was in the mood and it didn’t help me at all. If anything, it just slowed me down because I was doing twice the work: looking at the question then going over the whole thing to find the answer, then repeating the process instead of just reading the text once.

Numerical ability

This test was all word problems—age, work, mixture, speed—with a dash of ratio, proportion and variation. This was the last portion of the ACET, and not only was my brain fried to a crisp but I was also very eager to leave so this definitely made me want to scream as I was taking it. It could have been much easier if I had memorized the exact formulas, and practiced lots so I could work rapidly without sacrificing accuracy.

DCAT

Mema test

I don’t know the actual name of this test, but I called it as such because it was so all over the place it felt like the ones in charge of making the DCAT looked at the final draft, saw they were an entire subtest short and crammed these questions two hours before the deadline. It was a mix of both abstract reasoning and vocabulary, and was generally easy: the AR patterns were understandable and didn’t require a lot of analysis, while the vocab words were very few and quite common.

Math I

I read in this one CET tips post that this portion was, and I quote, “pretentiously difficult and time-consuming” and it’s absolutely true! It’s big on derivations of formulas and advanced concepts in algebra, it barely had any basics much to my dismay. My mental block during this part was at its peak: I didn’t know how to solve anything, so I simply substituted each of the missing values in the problem with a number and worked it around until both sides of the equation were equal. That obviously took a lot of effort, which stemmed from my refusal to let go of an item until I feel like I’ve tried my best in solving it. But, it doesn’t have to be the case for you, especially if you’re terribly pressed for time: don’t hesitate to skip if you can’t move forward!

Math II + logical reasoning

Undoubtedly the hardest part of the exam, because no one saw it coming and thus, no one was able to prepare for it. And to think I was already warned by my friends who took the DCAT the week before I did to review statistics: I went through my notes from Grade 9 on combination and permutation, completely unaware that it was going to focus on hypothesis testing and estimation of parameters, which we failed to cover in Grade 11. I thought I’d be able to get by, I remember even praying that there would be only a few items but the entire test revolved around it so I almost literally crawled my way through. As for logic, it was alright until they started using technical terms like I had no idea what modus ponus (hocus pocus?) is and I don’t think I’ve ever had to study that in my life, so I think it’s safe to say I didn’t perform well there.

Reading comprehension

This was pretty similar to the ACET, so the same description and tips apply. Nothing to worry about.

EAPP/Research

This test was the plot twist of the year: DLSU completely took out the traditional type of English subtest (identifying errors, vocabulary, cloze test, etc.) and replaced it with citing in APA format, the principles of academic writing and the parts of a research paper. I had no idea that this was going to be included, and thankfully, those who enrolled in review centers didn’t either so we were all pretty much on equal footing. But, I walked out of it without a scratch: I guess it’ll be easy for you if you contribute to the making of your research papers, but if you’re a freeloader, ayan diba sinabi ko sa inyo may araw rin kayong lahat O ETO NA YUN

Science

This test covers the four major areas: earth science, biology, chemistry and physics. It was so much easier than I expected, because it only centered on terms and definitions of important concepts. I was most worried about the physics portion, since I’ve always considered it to be my waterloo, so you could just imagine my relief when I saw that it was very formulas-based and could be aced by anyone who took it up in Grade 10. (Super long run-on sentence, I’m sorry) I definitely wouldn’t have been able to survive it without the help of Tyler DeWitt, the best Chemistry teacher anyone could ever ask for – I found him on YouTube during a moment of desperation and binge-watched all his videos the day before DCAT, and he is probably the sole reason behind my success.

Life skills

The easiest and best part of the DCAT, because it’s simply a test of your character. It provides you with a set of situations, and all you have to choose which one best applies to you—so, yes there are no wrong answers. It’s easy to think that the most logical way to answer would be to feign sainthood and pick which one makes you look like an Ideal Lasallian/Catholic/Person, but I advise you to stay as true to yourself as possible. Those in admissions have probably seen many people apply this strategy in the past, and will most likely appreciate your honesty and view it as a way of seeing a true glimpse of your character.

UPCAT

Language proficiency

I think I was only sure of about 75% of my answers in this test, and to think this was the easiest part of the UPCAT for me as language is supposed to be my forte. Although it revolved around the basics—identifying errors in sentences, cloze set, rearrangement of sentences to form a paragraph and vocabulary—it came in both English and Filipino, which really tired me out early on.

Science

Hardest test of them all, to the point that taking it felt like my brain was getting hit by different trucks all at once. It covered all four major areas, including earth science. There were a ton of tables, graphs and diagrams that needed to be interpreted, and experiments to be analyzed: it’s big on practical applications and understanding of concepts. Don’t memorize any formulas, acronyms and mnemonics as you definitely will not need it at all.

Math

This test ran through a little bit of everything: from basic algebra to geometry, trigonometry, word problems and even statistics, sequences and number theory. It’s important to memorize all the formulas and learn how to solve problems fast even if they’ve already been twisted around. Math has never been my strong suit, so at this point, I was very close to hyperventilating. I even remember shading the wrong circles for ten questions in a row because I skipped one item. I also took around three bathroom breaks at this point, and spent 30 seconds sat on the toilet praying.

Reading comprehension

This was the first time I ever loathed this kind of test, when it’s supposed to be my strong point. It’s just that the previous subtests were so mentally and emotionally draining, that I didn’t have the brainpower to tackle it. It didn’t help at all that the passages chosen for the UPCAT were not the usual narrative types that are actually entertaining to read, but were incredibly information and detail-heavy. (They made really good memes on Twitter, though: no one was over the patis, newsboy or Super Ferry 9 for a long while.) The best thing to do at this point would be to go for the easiest and shortest ones first, to give your brain time to repair and prepare itself.

USTET

Mental ability

This test seeks to assess your common sense through a mix of logical reasoning, analogical and basic language and arithmetic problems. I don’t think I have to give you tips about this part at all, because it’s that easy.

Science

This test also includes question on all four major areas, but the main difference is that there are close to no practical applications of concepts – surprisingly, UST only cares about the definition of terms. Thus, intensive review probably won’t be needed: you could just skim through your notes from junior high school and have a good grasp of what’s going to be included.

Math

This test had mostly basic algebra and geometry, as well as some word problems – nothing too difficult. One other fun thing was that there was so many of the same type of question, so if you have the formulas memorized and a certain technique in answering, you could get so many (if not all) correctly.

English

This test focused mainly on basic grammar, figures of speech and subject-verb agreement. There was also a tiny part about oral communication and research, which I wasn’t able to prepare for but it’s a good thing I actually bothered paying attention to my teacher in Grade 11 or else I wouldn’t have been able to answer a thing.

THE DAY BEFORE – DURING THE TEST

Now, normally people would tell you to rest the day before any big test: drop all books and notes and mentally psych yourself for the battle up ahead in the form of face masks and comfort food. Although it sounded incredibly tempting, I obviously didn’t follow it because I was running short on time and had so many things I had yet to fully understand. Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t experience any adverse effects and even retained everything I had crammed into my head. So, you’re technically still allowed to review: run through flash cards and try a bit more practice problems if you wish. The only thing you have to make sure of is that you do not stay up late: sleep is crucial for memory retention and BASTA PARA DI KA LUTANG, and you do not want to realize that you’ve taken it for granted on such an important date.

Pack all your essentials the night before in (preferably) a small backpack that you can easily lug around. Bring two #2 Mongol pencils, an eraser, your test permit, a school ID just in case and food to snack on: my personal favorites of the season were seaweed crisps that I got for a buy one, take one deal in Robinsons Supermarket, raisins and trail mix. Scientific studies in the past have claimed that chewing motions can help stimulate your brain, but I just believe it just doesn’t feel right to engage in battle on an empty stomach. Coordinate with friends who’ll be in the same testing center as you, in case you won’t be able to survive in such an environment without someone to sympathize with you. Personally, I didn’t bother meeting up with friends for three out of my four tests because I wanted to feel independent and possibly run into new people.

If you’re anything like me and you hold on to God for dear life in almost every situation that brings you difficulty, don’t forget to pray for enlightenment and the capacity to accept His will, whatever it may be. As much as possible, try to hear Mass the day before your entrance test. Funny story, I was supposed to do this on ACET Eve, but we got stuck in traffic and missed the opportunity to. I ended up running to my parish while the staff were closing it (I didn’t even know that was a thing – what about the troubled souls who need guidance in the wee hours of the morning!) and muttering the most desperate prayer under my breath in a minute. I even lit a candle outside because I wanted to pass Ateneo that badly. Looking back, I found that it helped me lots because I was able to lift up all my worries to Him so I wouldn’t have to bring them along with me the next day.

On the test day itself, the best weapon to have in your arsenal is a good mindset. Walk into the testing center like you already passed, stroll along the corridors like it’s your first day in that university and look at every question as another step closer to freedom. Do not overthink or panic: I know it is much easier said than done, but it won’t hurt to fake it till you make it (sometimes, in situations like this, it’s the best option available).

Keep track of time limits: don’t be afraid to glance at the wall clock or your wristwatch from time to time so you can pace yourself properly. Don’t take too long on one item: if you don’t know what to do with it in 20 seconds, just come back to it when you have extra minutes to spare. If you’re not sure about the answer to an item, make the most intelligent guess you can by racking your brain for the very limited stock knowledge you have on that topic. Choose one letter to be your go-to choice if you really don’t know the answer: mine was C (for Christ, truly) although I don’t know if that’s still a wise decision because universities might start picking up on this strategy.

Look back on all your answers: if you have the luxury of time, re-read everything from the instructions to the passages to the choices provided, because sometimes, even if you were 110% sure of what you were answering during that moment, you may have missed something important. If you happen to be one of those beasts who come prepared enough and you’re completely sure of everything already, catch a quick nap to recharge those batteries instead of scouting for attractive fellow test-takers. I swear, there will be many more of them in college: at present, it’s best to exhaust all efforts into actually getting a university.

AFTER THE TEST

The minute the proctor makes you put your pencil down one last time and submit the questionnaire forward, let it go. Completely forget that it happened: don’t spend the succeeding days discussing answers with peers, as it will almost always end with you regretting things you can no longer change. Do not keep a countdown until judgment day ticking in your head either: choose to take this time to let your life return to its normal state. Shift your focus back to your academics for the school year, and be preoccupied with your interests once again during your free time. Remember to treat yourself as well, because we all know it’s not easy to study while simultaneously worrying about your future. After all my CETs, I made sure to eat out with my family and spoil myself with chick flick marathons and skin care products. Most importantly, be sure to keep praying as it is the key to accepting what happens in the future and regaining peace of mind. As cheesy as it sounds, trust in God’s plan for You and know that He has a reason for everything that is about to happen.

Now, on to the final stretch: the release of results. (This is a pretty timely thing to be talking about right now, since as of this writing, I’m waiting for UP to make a move within the week) If you pass your dream school—or any university for that matter—congratulations! Your hard work has finally paid off, and the promising future you’ve built up in your head is slowly turning into a reality. Don’t forget to thank all those who made this possible for you: God, your family, friends and teachers who believed in you through every sleepless night and mid-morning breakdown. Remain humble though, and be careful not to gloat in front of those who didn’t pass. I know you’re not really obliged to act a certain way to please them, especially during a time as joyous as this, but it’s all a matter of empathy: I’m sure you’d feel the same way if the roles were reversed. One thing you’re left to decide with if you’re lucky enough to pass more than one college is where you’re headed off to. Personally, it’s course over school: go for the program that suits you best and will help you pursue the career path you wish, since that will do you more good in the future than the reputation of any institution. If you are not entirely convinced by that spiel, do not hesitate to ask help from those you trust most: preferably family members, teachers and counselors. I left out friends, because I don’t think it’s a wise decision to choose a specific school just because that’s where they’re headed.

If you fail to make the cut, however, indulge in your right to cry right now. I’m sure that it must be disheartening, planning out a future in a school that ended up “rejecting” you in the end, but news flash: the race does not finish here! Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and get ready for the results of the other schools you have applied for. Be sure to surround yourself with only people who are capable of uplifting your spirits and helping you believe in yourself during such a trying time. If the worst case scenario happens and you are left with no college at the end of the day, it’s time to get hustling: look for universities that are still accepting applications (some schools out there have entrance tests every month, and results come out instantly), or send in letters of appeal if ever you truly have your eyes set on a specific campus. That’s not something I have much expertise on though, but almost everything you will need to know is on the school’s official website.

And, there you have it! Everything I could tell you about the college entrance tests! I spent approximately three days trying to kick my writing slump in the ass: my eyes hurt and I may be suffering from carpal tunnel but all of that means nothing as long as I’ve been able to guide one hopeless soul out of the dark. (Yes, I patterned that after my comprehensive guide to surviving Grade 11 – my brain is dying, and I have no time to think of an ending catchier than that.) I’m on summer break now and I’ll be going to Korea next week, so expect a lot of lighter and more amusing content!

Stay in school, kids!

Angel

#angeltriestoblog #cets #college entrance tests #philippines #upcat #acet #dcat #ustet #cet tips #life dump #recs

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rainlightimages · 5 years

Text

Project ideation in thought, not material

Holy brain dump

I am grateful – deeply and from the bottom of my heart. The number of things I am grateful for is numerous and varied and full on. I try to express it to those who are the objects of it, but I’m sure I don’t do it enough.

I want to give people, “I’m thankful for you” gifts constantly. I wish I had fuzzy hearts I could just hand out sometimes.

I know that I am extremely blessed in situation, in spirit, in material, and most especially in the people around me. I know that I am blessed with room for growth.

I am overwhelmed. I do too much and I’m interested in everything, so I take on too much. I want to do it all. I am learning to say no – I have been learning this for ages. Literally years. I am learning to care for myself. Too much is asked of me. I can get better at asking for and accepting help.

I get time to myself to cry when I drive to college.

I was thinking this morning of preparing my check in questions for my teacher training.

I was able to start simple:

I’m totally overwhelmed. I feel like no one wants me around. I want to get better at observing. I would like to know the best way to do this – should I read a certain book like “Developing the Observing Eye”?

I know this is just one facet of the crystal that is me.

Questions: Child who is very video game exposed, obsessed with fighting, constantly talking and interrupting teacher (6) Good storyteller, bright and shining eyes, robust, joyful. Child who just seems kind of vacant (5) deer in headlights. Child who is supposed to be rinsing dishes and putting them in the drainer and never self-motivates to do so (hmm, bring imagination?) just plays with them in the water. I let him play because I think he knows what he needs, and I’m fascinated with observing this behavior. I do ask him to put the dishes in the drainer, and he eventually does. (I have to ask for each dish, he doesn’t get started and keep going) (6 YO) Very thoughtful, fascinating, tries to explain what I’m doing a lot – pale, thin, frail, took a long time to get comfortable, was uncomfortable with touch, goes rigid, very in his head.

I know that I am striving well to spend quality time with my children and connect with them. I know I am bringing them good. (and if I will ever regret anything, it is missing time I could have spent with them as they change so rapidly. This does have to be a priority!)

I have been blessed with the concept that I can change the story I am telling myself.

And probably “no one wants me around” is just a silly story I’ve been telling myself since 4th grade or longer.

I’m afraid that my son is starting to tell himself the same story and he is only in 2nd grade. Hmmm, which is when I developed stress induced asthma – partially due to a teacher who made me feel like crap all the time.

I know that want is going on with my son is not caused by his teacher. But I am afraid that it might be driven deeper by her actions, and everyone’s actions around him, if we are not careful. This soul that longs to shine through in the is-ness of himself needs some keys turned, some support, some help, to blossom into who he can be and stop telling himself that he is no good, that he is unworthy.

He is my wake up call to tell myself another story, isn’t he?

Back off that tangent, I feel like I have to acknowledge the thought and feeling that no one wants me around. I can’t just bury it. I need to work through it, and get past it. Maybe it doesn’t matter if anyone wants me around. I want to hear that I am wanted, that I am good enough, that I bring good things.

I have heard all these things. But I feel like I’ve messed up again, been too human, too me again, and I need to be welcomed back into the human fold.

And I think of all the things I’ve said and done that might have hurt another like this. And I never want to tear anyone down, I never want anyone to feel unwelcome. I want to face things and work through disagreements and explore different view points. We don’t all have to think the same way, we don’t all have to like the same things.

But sometimes we just need a sea of compassion to wrap ourselves within.

The pain I am carrying is very heavy. I can see the concept of putting it down from at least 4 perspectives.

*deleted expletive* Expletive is what I need to express to distill the explosion of thoughts in my mind.

I am feeling an urge to share this. I am feeling an urge to hide away from everyone. Keep my head down and do only what I have to and just rest.

How much more “to do” do I create to avoid doing what I have to do? Which right now is read for teacher training. Read, read, read.

It’s not all I have to do, and I have been reading. But… I have more to read.

I have experienced an amazing and uncomfortable amount of procrastination this semester. And yet, I turned out a 16 page paper (when only 5-7 were required) and have a PERFECT score in the class.

I want to share my teacher’s feedback: Feedback:

You have done a superb job organizing a large amount of content into understandable and logical parts: well done

Feedback:

Your paper exceeds expectations. You have done an excellent job on an in-depth analysis and discussion of play in the U.S. and India. Excellent work!

I think I could have done better. Hah. I KNOW I could have done better, if I had done more ahead of time. Getting myself going was the hardest part. I think it could have flowed better. But I am WAY pleased with this grade and feedback.

I know that perfectionism isn’t healthy. I don’t know what to do about it.

I want to be making things more, doing more art. I want to connect with people more, in small groups.

I want to share thoughts. I want others to share thoughts with me. I have no idea what you’ve been thinking about and I am so lonely.

(I can get overwhelmed when new people share lots of thoughts with me. I am sure that my thoughts can be overwhelming to others when I share them. I am sure my honesty and realism can be intimidating.)

I expect that I will look back on this time in my life and miss it. I have reached heights of joy beyond anything I’ve experienced before. I am doing many interesting things that feel pretty good most of the time. I am working hard on the bits that do not. I think they are improving.

I am progressing.

Which brings me closer to a point.

I started the semester talking about dissolving myself.

For my final project I will literally dissolve myself.

I did not come up with the project with that in mind.

But I have been thinking about it a lot.

I have been thinking about how foolish it is to be consumed with looks.

I have been thinking about the way I was never good enough. I looked like this (see pic that I haven’t scanned yet) and I wasn’t good enough. Not for myself. Not according to some others. Why did I listen to him? Why did I ask him to hurt me? Why did I ask him to tell me that she looked better? I looked like THIS. I think that is probably quite good enough. What did he know? (and for the record I think he said he preferred to touch me and look at her.) I think I was fine to look at.

And I didn’t get this just from him. I could have chosen not to listen.

And as I listened and struggled to become more of the ideal, it slipped farther and farther away from me and I obtained a seriously screwed up relationship to food. With Whole30 I think I am finally getting a better relationship, but I still have a long road to travel with this. I have had control, I have changed what I eat much for the better. But there is still emotion tied to eating that is not always good. I still have many pounds to go. And it’s not about the pounds and the looks and the clothes alone, but I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t part of it. It is about the health, the longevity, the range of motion. It’s about not wanting to be ashamed if I grow ill and need help. (It’s about my mother. That is a kaleidoscope of confusion I am not going to touch today. I wish her all the best and peace.) It’s about the fact that people treat you differently. I can give so many examples of way that people I know think they don’t judge people on their weight DO. I am probably one of them, at least sometimes. Look at who we suggest to cast as angels for our school festival.

Looks and weight can be different issues, but are tied.

So, for me, it is about wanting to be able to move and be comfortable in my body. That is why I practice yoga – for peace of mind but largely for range of motion. I be able to reach and bend and twist and enjoy it.

As a result, I am in excellent health – even was when I weighed almost 30 pounds more than I do now. At that time my blood work came back with excellent health in every way – blood sugar, cholesterol, blood pressure, EVERYTHING was well. I attribute that to swimming and yoga. Now, I have less additives, much more healthy food and much lower weight. But it is not low enough for me. I don’t know if I’ll get back to the picture I am referring to… but I want to get back to where I was in 2007 very much. That is enough. I got there, but then I think I celebrated by eating too much sugar.

I do think that I have a much better handle on that now. I do think I have healthy alternatives that are satisfying.

So, back to dissolving myself (and isn’t loosing weight dissolving?)

When I look at these pictures of my grandmothers, they are so beautiful.

They have inner light that shines from their eyes. They are wrapped up in lovely. But I’m sure that most people don’t strive to look like them.

So this final project is about the unavoidable fact that everyone ages. That whatever your looks are now, they will dissolve. You will age unless you die (and now I’m thinking about Jane Fonda and the freakish way she has mummified herself… so maybe if you have enough money you don’t have to age so much, but still) and is the energy we put upon appearance worth the effort? Could we use that energy and attention in other places that would so deeply enrich our lives and our world?

It’s about recognizing the self – and that the Self and appearance are not the same thing.

When I said, “did I dissolve” I meant the mind, really. The thought processes, the creative processes, the poetry.

And the meeting of the minds, the sharing of the poetry and the thoughts. Again, I was thinking of you.

Has the connection dissolved because I do not do the thinking and the poetry and the creating?

Is the connection still quite strong but unused?

Did you dissolve?

Are we always dissolving – as our cells die and we create new ones, as our thoughts flit, flee and fade, as the swirl and grow? As our feelings change, deepening through repetition, dissolving through disuse, fading though lack of appreciation or notice…

How much is entirely in our heads? Is this awesome or awful? I guess in so many ways, it’s entirely up to me. I guess I will choose awesome, as much as I can.

This popped up serendipitously:

“Trust the timing of your life. Stay patient. Stay calm. Stay determined. Stay focused. And most of all trust your journey”. I would add, stay kind. Remember there are many points of view and more than one can be true (12 points of view)...

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showingthroughtome · 7 years

Text

spit fire - chapter seventeen

but i will if i need to cause for real, girl, i need you

“A little. Not really.” He changes his answer quickly but then moves on. “What are you doing with Shawn?”

“What?” Once again, Noa is caught off guard.

“I saw you with him tonight. What the fuck is that about?”

Noa begins a slow pace down the hallway as she hears the words leave his mouth, anger flowing through her. “Where do you get off asking me about who I chose to spend my time with?”

Harry scoffs and gives a tiny chuckle. “Shawn is a dickhead.”

“You’re one to talk.” Noa copies his cocky tone, trying to hide just how mad he manages to make her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

read below - or on 1dff (when the site is back!) - story page

Friends is an easier concept than one might assume when it comes to your ex-something. Granted, Noa has only been trying for a few days, but so far, her and Shawn went to that old sports bar twice and have had an okay time, not touching each other once. Now, when they go and he pays more attention to the TV or his friends that stop by, Noa can focus on the slightly funny commentary he makes or the fucking odd interactions he has with fellow football players.

She doesn’t even know why they’ve been hanging out at all really. She just knows that he’ll send her a text occasionally and she doesn’t have anything else to do so why not? She loves to eat and she loves to get out of her dorm room. Double win for Noa.

It’s the night before the last day of the semester when she goes out with Shawn again, but this time Farrah comes along so she can see “how legit this friendship actually is”. Apparently, it’s hard for the girls to believe or even understand why Noa would spend time with the dickhead. Which, to be quite honest, it’s hard for Noa to grasp as well.

She’s sitting in the front seat, with Farrah crammed in the back making easy conversation with Shawn. Noa isn’t paying attention at all - they could ask her the last word that came out of either of their mouths and she’d have no clue. She’s too busy looking out the window, watching the business lights in the small-town glow quietly in the night. The car is all warm and toasty so it only makes the town seem colder through the window with its slightly grey tint.

The lights come into focus as Shawn slows to a stop at a red light and Noa’s attention almost comes back to the car before her eyes land on the bus stop right outside her window. On the bench, wearing the thinnest winter coat and looking skinnier than the last time she saw her, is Noa’s mom. Noa almost must do a double take at the sight of her, her being nearly unrecognizable due to the change drugs can have on a person after extended periods of time. Growing up, her mom would fluctuate in and out of a healthy weight. Sarah would have beautiful long hair for months and then slowly, it would begin to dry, tangle, and fall.

From what Noa can tell, her hair is fine, but her cheeks are sunken in deeper than she’s seen in a while. It causes her stomach to curdle and the overwhelming urge to puke to emerge. Shawn is pulling away before she has time to figure out if she should jump out of the car to see if she’s okay or if her mom is just on that annual path to self-destruction before she experiences a month or two of sobriety.

“Whoa, Noa. Was that your mom?” Farrah grabs both sides of Noa’s seat and pulls herself up so she can make eye contact, worry riddling her voice.

Noa swallows the lump in her throat and nods, “Yeah, I think so.”

“How is she doing?” Shawn has no clue of anything that’s been going on - he hardly ever did. All he knew when they were together (for lack of a better word) was that her mom had some issues and it caused Noa stress. He, along with all but three people, are oblivious to how deep the hole Sarah Cherry is in goes.

“I’m not sure.” She breathes and tries to calm her anxieties over it as she admits, “I haven’t talked to her in a couple months.”

“What? Why?”

“Usual Sarah stuff.” Noa, no matter how much her and Shawn become friends, won’t choice to share the details of that night with him.

Generic answers are good enough for him though, so at another stop sign, he turns to her and asks without much emotion at all, “Do I need to turn around?”

“No. She’s fine.” Noa is certain of it somewhere in the back of her mind. When Sarah gets really bad, she won’t leave the house. She’ll have dealers come to their trailer and sell to her there. She’ll stop making attempts at all and spiral until she is pulled out of it by Noa. In a weird way, knowing the progression of her mom’s addiction calms her. Out loud, she reassures herself, “If she’s out at the bus stop, she’s fine.”

Shawn nods as he continues to drive and silence falls over the car while Noa stays stuck in her head, trying to shake her mother’s cheekbones from her brain.

Farrah is the first one to talk again while Shawn is turning into the parking lot. “What games on that’s so important?”

The reason Shawn texted Noa earlier in the day was because he wanted to invite her to an event at the bar they frequent. She said yes but then when her and Farrah were taking too long to get ready, a stream of hurry up texts were sent. Followed by texts that emphasized how serious it was that they get there on time.

“It’s a UFC fight.” Shawn finds a parking spot right by the door. “It’s gonna be sick.”

“Ew. What the fuck?” Noa snaps back to the moment at the mention of watching a fight.

From the backseat, Farrah has a similar but very different reaction. “Yeah, I’m not down with that shit either.”

“It’ll be fun. The bar is hosting the SU athletic department so it’ll be all of us.”

“Oh, it’s that thing?” Farrah got out of the car following Shawn and Noa. “I distinctly remember not wanting to go to this.”

Shawn rolls his eyes at Farrah and elbows Noa. “I bet your boyfriend will be here.”

“Not her boyfriend.” Farrah pipes in before Noa could say those exact words.

“We already talked about this.” Noa side eyes Shawn and falls behind him as he begins the short walk through the doors and out of the cold. “But yeah, probably.”

Noa can’t think of a reason why Harry wouldn’t be spending his Thursday night at a bar with his basketball friends, except for maybe if he was with her. Back when they were hanging out, they rarely even acknowledged other people’s existence after around 6 in the evening.

As they walk into the bar, it’s as crowded as Noa has ever seen it - people standing up at high tops, the bar full, booths taken. Luckily, Shawn has friends already there so when the three of them get to that booth, he finds Farrah a spare chair and they all have somewhere to sit. The bartender takes a while to get to them so mindlessly, Shawn converses with his friends while Farrah and Noa search the menu for something good and meatless. Noa decides on a veggie and hummus platter but Farrah insists on a chicken wrap.

Noa takes the extra time that she’s waiting to order and surveys the bar - looking for a particular boy and seeing if he has a particular brunette with him. Easily enough, she finds him with basketball players she doesn’t know the name of and then Max. They’re all laughing and joking about something but Harry is turned mostly away from her so she can’t tell if he is too. He’s got a beer in his hand though, somehow getting one at the age of 19.

She feels herself staring at him and she feels Farrah watching her stare at him so she should realize her gaze is heavy - strong enough for him to feel. But she doesn’t and seconds later, he’s turning right towards her, finding her in a corner booth with Shawn and Farrah and other random guys.

He was smiling before he caught sight of her but an unmistakable falter takes place and his dimples disappear. His eyes flint away and he goes back to his friends, swallowing the rest of the contents of his glass in one go and waving the bartender over.

Noa has to stop after that. She can’t spend all night noting his every move from afar. She’s got to move on from him. She’s got to pretend that she didn’t just watch his whole mood change when he saw her with Shawn. To her, that shift was his dumb jealousy and not anything else. To her, Harry isn’t sad or hurt or upset by Shawn. Because if he’s not, then maybe she’ll stop being all those things too.

Eventually, they do order and eat and drink (a little) and watch the fight - Noa doing it behind a fence of fingers because violence just isn’t her thing. In all that time, she only lets her eyes peruse the bar once and when she doesn’t find a single soul of interest, a weight almost lifts itself from her chest.

—

The buzzing is relentless. It’s like a dozen bees in the distance - close enough so it’s annoying but not far enough away to be ignored. And once it starts, it doesn’t stop. Normally, when her phone rings in the middle of the night, Noa will roll over and ignore it. This time, she can’t. Whoever is calling has a purpose and won’t give up on it until it’s fulfilled.

With closed eyes, she feels for her phone on the table beside her bed. It takes a few tries but her hand eventually finds it and in one swift motion, unplugs it from the charger. She barely cracks her eyes open to see a picture of curly hair and green eyes. Sitting up, the screen goes black only to light up moments later with another call.

Her thumb hovers until her brain realizes he must need something, causing her thumb to slide the green phone across the bottom of the screen. She holds her phone up to her ear and waits.

“Noa?” Harry’s voice shakes in question, almost sounding genuinely unsure if she answered the phone. She hasn’t heard him say it in a while and she is still closer to asleep then awake, so a long pause is only natural. “Noa.” It’s a demand this time for her to say something.

She rubs her eyes, adjusting them to the darkness to see Bethlyn asleep in the bed across from hers. Noa slides out from the warm covers and into the hallway, all while listening to a quiet hum of someone waiting on the other end of the phone line. Once outside of her room, she mumbles under her breath. “Yeah?”

“Did I wake you?”

“Uhh,” Noa pulls her phone away from her ear to check the time and responds in a clipped tone. “It’s 2:48, Harry. Of course you did.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes you’re up really late for no reason.” The pity he feels for himself is almost tangible by the way he isn’t quite whining but is talking in a minuscule voice.

Noa doesn’t play into it, she never would. Instead, she sighs, “What do you need?”

“I don’t need anything.” His response grows in volume and offense. Noa knows it’s a lie - you don’t call someone at 3am if there isn’t a reason and whatever that reason is, Noa wants to get it over with. Maybe just a minute or maybe a few pass before Harry states urgently, “I need to talk to you so fucking bad, Noa.”

A slur falls over the sentence that Noa hadn’t caught before but catches when he sounds so desperate. “Are you drunk?”

“A little. Not really.” He changes his answer quickly but then moves on. “What are you doing with Shawn?”

“What?” Once again, Noa is caught off guard.

“I saw you with him tonight. What the fuck is that about?”

Noa begins a slow pace down the hallway as she hears the words leave his mouth, anger flowing through her. “Where do you get off asking me about who I chose to spend my time with?”

Harry scoffs and gives a tiny chuckle. “Shawn is a dickhead.”

“You’re one to talk.” Noa copies his cocky tone, trying to hide just how mad he manages to make her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Noa is the one laughing this time, satisfied that it got under his skin that quickly. Then, crosses one of her arms and defends her new friend. “You don’t know him. How can you pass judgment?”

“Because you told me enough about him to know that you shouldn’t even fucking talk to him. He never ever respected you.” His voice is growing louder on the other end and it’s clear to Noa that Harry is in fact drunk. Emotion is fueling his words and it’s making the smile she is covering her anger with to fall as that anger shifts to a different feeling in her chest - a feeling she can’t place.

She bites her bottom lip as she recalls the last time they talked about Shawn. “He’s not so bad. He’s goofy, remember?”

“Noa.” His voice is back to that pleading shit, getting Noa’s eyes to roll. She feels certain words at the tip of her tongue - words that’ll breech a subject they’ve both avoided - and she considers keeping them hidden but he’s called her this late and he’s brought up Shawn to her and to be honest, she just can’t hold them any longer. She physically can’t.

“I told you a lot about Nina too.” Immediately, and for reasons she can only blame on fatigue, her eyes brim with tears as she surges through in a rush, keeping her voice even. “How much I didn’t like her because she treated me like shit. How she made sure to give me hell at any and every opportunity. How awful she was to me because she looked down on where I came from, how I spent my time, how I had to work to help out my sick mother.” Noa feels her voice shake so she has to stop it even though she could keep going.

Harry can’t even argue while he lets out a simple, “Yeah…”

“But that didn’t stop you from talking to her. And kissing her. And being her friend.” Wiping a tear that slipped away from her, Noa clenches her jaw.

“Fuck her. I don’t give a damn about her.” He throws away everything she said - something Noa can’t do now that it’s out there.

“You hang out with her all the time.”

“Because you left me. You don’t look at me anymore, Noa.” He’s angry and hurt all in one. Noa can imagine the sad eyes he’d be looking at her with if they were face to face. “Do you know how that feels? Do you know how shitty it feels to be nothing to you after everything?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” She can’t stand the pity anymore. She may not be the victim exactly but Harry certainly isn’t. “You did this, okay? You kissed Nina, Harry. I can’t close my eyes without that image haunting me. I think about it almost all the time. It won’t leave me.” Her hands are shaking by the time she gets to the steps and walks halfway up them so if her voice gets any louder, her fellow residents won’t be able to hear her.

“Please?” He begs but Noa doesn’t know what he’s asking for exactly.

“You know nothing about feeling shitty, alright?”

“I fucked up so bad.” Harry states the obvious with regret in every word. “I ruined everything.”

“Yeah.” There’s is no use in her saying anything else, no use in her disagreeing with the truth of the situation.

But that one word sends Harry on a spiral.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He is the one shaking this time, and surprisingly losing his slur as he almost sounds completely convicted. “I’m so sorry. I was angry and stupid and she was there and I guess I did it as a way to prove that I wasn’t consumed by you. I was trying to make her my Shawn, I think.”

And that surge of anger - the one Noa knows all too well - returns. Because she gets what Harry was trying to say. She hates herself for it and even if she doesn’t want to, she does. Although, he’s wrong. Shawn is and always will be way less to her than Harry assumes - as he makes up in his mind.

“Shawn is my friend.” She grits her teeth as she lets her emotions run through her and come out in clenched fists and stomping feet.

“You say that but a part of me won’t accept it. It eats away at me and I convince myself you’re in love with him.”

Harry is so backwards to her. He calls her to tell her that she shouldn’t be with Shawn because of all the shitty things he did to her but then has it in his mind that she loves him? How could he ever think that? Does Harry even know Noa at all - the way she hoped he had?

“But that’s wrong and I see that now.” Harry says like it’s no big deal, like if he hadn’t realized that weeks ago her chest wouldn’t be knotting millions of times over.

Her clenched fist hits the wall in a flash, regret filling her when a tiny pain shoots up her knuckles and embarrassment at the angry action washes over her.

As she rubs her knuckles and turns to make sure no one saw, she sighs, “Wow, Harry. Now you realize that? After all this dumb shit?”

“Yeah. It sucks but it took a while. And I’m so sorry. I’ve never regretted anything more than kissing Nina.” Noa can’t deny that every word sounds truthful coming out of his mouth and that somehow, she knows he means them. Maybe Harry didn’t know her as well as she thought, but she likes to think she knows him. And if that’s true at all then Harry is sorry. It plain as day as he continues, “If you’ll just give me another chance, I’ll prove how much I deserve it.”

Still, she rolls her eyes. “Another chance at what? Casual fucking?”

“No.” He quips back quickly, almost offended. “Sex with conversations but more. I want you completely. Facebook official type shit.”

She chuckles at that idea and shakes her head, “Harry.”

“I want to be your boyfriend.” While she is still smiling at the previous ludicrous idea, he spouts out a word she rarely hears or thinks about but that he says so seriously.

“Whatever.” She bites her lip, not letting her mind go there.

“I do! I want to spend our nights and days together. I want to get food for you when you’re hungry and too busy to do it yourself. I want to start TV shows together and get mad at you when you watch episodes without me and then spoil the plot.” He pauses his speech to laugh lightly, causing a vision of his stupidly charming dimples to appear in Noa’s mind - a clear memory of him smiling at her from across his shoebox apartment so easy to recall. “I want to hold your hand whenever and not wonder if you think it’s crossing a line. I want to kiss you on the cheek without you thinking I’m pushing our arrangement. I don’t want to worry if I seem like I’m too eager and wanting too much of you because, Noa, you’re all I want.”

All lightness that entered their conversation for fleeting seconds dissipates as they both come to the realization just how real he is being. He is saying things she should want to hear, things she thinks she may have had dreams about. And even though it does make her heart flutter at first, soon it shifts to fear and all she can think about is the pain she felt when she had Harry slip away from her.

“Harry.” She repeats again, feeling her chest open a little wider at how vulnerable she wants to be but knows she can’t be.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend, Grape?”

Again, tears brim. And she lies, “No.”

He lets an audible pause leaves his lips - perhaps a gasp even. “Why not?”

“We’re not right for each other.” She convinces herself out loud.

“Bullshit. You know that’s a lie.”

“Not right now, we’re not.” She may want to be his girlfriend - after everything, she still wants to just burrow herself into him in his warm bed and pretend no one exists outside of those blankets. Though, she knows what she wants isn’t what is always good for her. “We’re not mature enough or something. I don’t know how to be a girlfriend and you don’t know how to be a boyfriend. As soon as we got close, we both screwed up and hurt each other.”

“No.” He says sternly. “Just because it didn’t go smoothly doesn’t mean we can’t make it work.”

“Harry… I care for you so much.” It’s as close as she can get to admitting the truth - the ugly truth she won’t even say to herself.

“Baby.” Harry whispers, pleading at the same time she continues.

“But no.” She decides and hopes he accepts easily. “I can’t be with you and you can’t be with me.”

“That’s not fair. Why do you just get to decide and that’s that? How come because you think we won’t work, we can’t give it a try?”

“Because if I’m not in it 100%, it won’t.”

“Then be in it! I promise, Noa. I promise I’ll be the best boyfriend.” She can basically hear him getting down on his knees and begging, breaking her heart that much more.

“I - I…” Wishing things were different, she stumbles over the one defining sentiment of the conversation. “I just can’t.”

Noa assumes he hangs up due to the silence, then lighter - less self-pitying - he wonders, “I am sorry, you know that right?”

“I do. I really do.” Not knowing how, she does. She paces the area and knows finally that Harry is so full of regret for what he did.

“I’ll see you around then?”

Winter break is tomorrow; she’s got to find somewhere to stay while the dorms close and he is surely going home for the holidays. She bitterly smiles, “See you next semester.”

“Have a good break.”

“You too, Harry. Send your mom my worst.”

Harry breaks out into his crazy melodic laugh, something Noa has to join in on on principle. It dies off slowly but when it’s finally all gone, he almost sighs over the words, “I miss you.”

“Yeah.” She nods, let’s them both feel it for a second, and then, “Goodbye.”

“Bye.” He returns with that slight gruff.

She brings the phone away from her face, watching as it goes dead by his doing but knowing fully that everything could be thriving if she would let them - if her fear would let her.

—

It’s colder that next morning. The state is swept over with clouds, looking like it could rain or snow any minute.

Definitely snow, Noa thinks as she crosses her arms even tighter to keep her body warm. Fucking snow, she curses in her mind, huffing out a breath that is so visible it’s white.

It never has been a long walk back to her family trailer from Springfield University. It’s never felt like one, it’s never worn Noa out, she’s never run out of breath. But today, it feels like a journey. Her lungs are constricting and her arches are starting to hurt in her Nike sneakers.

She isn’t in denial anymore. Her mind isn’t explaining away this change as an actual increase in distance or a loss of fitness on her part. It’s feels longer because her heart is so much heavier while walking it.

Noa didn’t return to sleep after that conversation with Harry. Her mind wouldn’t stop turning over the decision - maybe I am ready, maybe he is ready, he could make me so happy, he does make me so happy, I am in love with him, aren’t I?

Hours and hours of that left her picking every bit of nail polish off her nails and chewing the hell out of bottom lip. Her eyes drifted eventually, but as soon as that happened, her alarm went off and she had to decide where she was going to stay for the six weeks of winter break.

That’s why she is walking home - she has to.

Where else could I possibly stay? I’ve thought of a few places, though those seem like inconveniences for the people. I don’t want to seem like a freeloader or desperate - but yeah, I kind of am at the moment.

All of Springfield looks a bit sad as she walks down the sidewalk. It’s grey and slow and people who live there just for the semester are leaving. Harry is probably already on his flight back to England.

The trailer, as she walks up to it and passes a neighbor she hasn’t seen in a while, throwing him a wave, looks more than sad. It looks like that emotion you feel when you know things can’t be fixed, when you give up and stop trying for something you want so bad just because it hurts too much.

Noa wrings her hands multiple times to warm them, to get them to grab the doorknob that’s now right in front of her. Preparing for whatever she’ll see when the door opens, she takes a deep breath and reaches for it. She starts to turn it but it’s locked, causing her to look through a window that’s mostly covered by a ragged curtain. Through the tiny slit, she manages to see her mother.

On the couch, smoking a cigarette, watching something on the TV and munching on Chex Mix, looking as happy as can be. She didn’t even seem to notice a jiggle on the doorknob.

Noa deflates. Now aware that her mom is as okay as she’s ever been, that panicking anxiety flushes itself from her system. It allows her to step away from the door and reach for her phone.

She never intended on calling Molly and asking to stay with her family for the winter. But she already spent too much time with Farrah over the summer so she has to spread out her bumming.

“Dude, come on.” Molly grunts after Noa went on a 45 second rant about how much she just needs a bed and promises not to be a bother. “We head to Richmond in an hour so make sure to bring everything you need. I’m not driving back to this place until the semester starts so if ya leave a bong or whatever, you’re fucked.”

“What? They don’t sell those in Richmond?”

—

authors note: so the spacing is weird on this, my bad!! but look! i caved and decided to post here so i also decided to do an authors note!! can you believe spit fire only has 3 chapters and an epilogue left?!?!? i personally cant. ill def be doing more with them though - maybe novellas or drabbles or whatever. spit fire may be coming closer to an end but man, noa and harry are gonna have some things to touch on after the final update comes out. if i had enough of a storyline, id even consider a sequel but… nah, not these guys!! please please please let me know what you think!!! i am gonna be all obsessive and check this post a lot because this is one of those chapters that i have been waiting to write since i started this fic. tell me in an ask or message what you thought of harry and noa and what he said and what she said and what happened with her mom and that gosh darn phone convo in general!

i love you all and cant ever express how grateful of every single person who gives my little fic a look!! <3

#i caved #i know i know #but tell me what #you think please please please #1dff #i am nervous to be doing this but i really wanna!#sf chapter

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meandmymentalhealth67220 · 6 years

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What my anxiety is, what it feels like and how it complicates my life

This will be the first actual post on this new blog about my mental health problems. I decided to move away from Facebook because there are some people on there who would prefer not to actually see the various things that I am going through, or who get upset when I discuss the part they have played within my mental health issues. My hope by moving to here is that I will have a greater amount of freedom to be honest about my experiences, and to also decrease the drama I am currently experiencing within my life.

Anyway, this first post is going to be about my anxiety, what it feels like and how it complicates my life in some ways that you may not be aware of.

Anxiety is basically a state of being where you constantly feel under psychological, emotional or physical attack. What this means is that you live with the threat of some kind of external discomfort or violence, and your brain reacts accordingly.

Now, when a supposedly neuro-typical person (they don’t exist, but the concept is useful for this discussion) experiences an attack a number of things happen:

Psychologically, they process the events and typically this activates the fight, flight, friend, freeze or flop response. This means that the events cause them to want to argue or respond in a violent manner, to run away, to befriend the person causing them the discomfort or being violent towards them, to go into a state of shock, or to just completely breakdown and be unable to do anything.

Emotionally, the response tends to be anger, fear, bargaining, numbness or terror, or an overwhelming sense of your emotions starting to go out of control.

Physically, the person may lash out with violence or unkind words, they may flee the scene in an attempt to stop the situation from happening or progressing, they may try to reconcile, fix or apologise for a situation they are not responsible for breaking, they make curl up on the floor or hug themselves, or they may just start sobbing uncontrollably.

Of course, none of these is a definitive list of the ways in which a person might react. There are numerous other ways in which a person could respond to the situation, too. Further, these responses tend to escalate when the anxiety becomes outright panic.

The triggers can be many, they can be few, they can be consistent or contextual, caused by circumstances or caused by particular people. What can trigger you one time may not do so on other occasions, and what has never triggered you before might do suddenly one day. Anxiety attacks are unpredictable and horrific.

As for how I feel during an anxiety attack, the one trait that tends to be the same throughout every triggering and attack is what I will call the surge. The surge is a surge of emotions that go out of control which seriously impair my ability to control my response to outside stimulus. Most of the time, I can control these surges, but recent events which have seriously harmed me, my sense of self and my sense of security have made it harder for me to do so.

Let’s start with anger: this will often manifest, in me, with me getting upset with inanimate objects and smashing them up or throwing them when I am on my own. I haven’t done it in the presence of another person since childhood. If not lashing out at something that has triggered me, when it is a person I will lash out verbally or via a letter or email. This may not be considered a good thing, but is a necessary cathartic step - if it has reached a point when my anxiety has resulted in me becoming angry, then that person has either seriously wronged me, or I believe that they have, and the only way to counter this is by communicating with them.

Next is fear: fear is probably the most common response in me. Being a queer person who doesn’t identify with the gender I was assigned at birth, I am constantly fearful of the reactions of those around me to just who I am. There are a great many silly people who think that my existence is somehow a serious threat to there existence, and as a consequence behave in a many designed to threaten, demean or upset me. Predictably, I am more likely to run away or hide myself in situations such as this.

Following on from that, we have bargaining: this is probably the worst of them all, as people tend to see you as weak and pathetic when you try to actually fix problems in a mutually beneficial way rather than perpetuating hatred, fear and anger. I have always tried to reconcile with people as deep down I value those in my life and want everyone to be happy and positive... though, of late, I have learned that some people are desperate to hold onto victimhood and anger at the expense of everything else. With children, we tell them to shake and make up. With adults, we let wounds fester and scab, but they never really fade because we can’t help but keep scratching them.

Terror, next: terror is different to fear because fear is the act of worrying that something may happen or may be happening, in this context, whereas terror is when your brain is actually registering it as happening at that very moment. And this is an important distinction that everyone misunderstands about mental health: whether it is happening or not is far less important than whether the person perceives it is happening. For me, there have been times when I have over-reacted to things. I admit that. It is true. However, if someone else just screams at you that you are overreacting and your in such a bad headspace that you’re experiencing absolute terror, then they are to blame for dismissing your experience. Especially as, in this situation, the person suffering from this terror enters a more malleable state where the people around them can influence their thoughts and feelings for the worse - what Naomi Klein talks about in The Shock Doctrine - or the better. Kindness is required here, but many people are too wrapped up in their own negative feelings to offer it.

The last two I will do together as they are connected: the first is the idea that your emotions go out of control. I have had anxiety attacks so bad that my emotions did go out of control, with wildly contradictory emotions happening as a consequence, such as laughing as I’m sobbing in grief, or having manic episodes when something bad has happened, or getting to the state where I’m just reacting to what is going on around me without being able to control my feelings. This is genuinely terrifying. Further, it is caused not by a trigger but by an escalation trigger. This is what I would call being triggered and then having somebody further trigger you so that the feelings intensify and worsen, and this can happen multiple times. Imagine a friend suddenly snapping at you just after an anxiety attack has started, or someone behaving in a threatening or intimidating manner - the situation escalates, but inside your head it escalates more and more and more, so that even the limited fight, flight, etc. response starts to go haywire.

And this, of course, brings us to numbness, because if your emotions going absolutely bonkers like a Gummi Bear bouncing here and there and everywhere is so scary, of course your mind will try to stop that from happening. Your mind might be your worst enemy a lot of the time, but it is also one of your best friends and doesn’t want you to get hurt. So, you become emotionally numb and very cold at times - indifferent to scenes of excess stress and problems. With me, I tend to become flippant and disengage when this happens because it is far better than actually getting trapped in an emotionally distressing loop. Make some witty comment, offer a pithy solution, and then go and play video games and try not to get involved.

And, like a one-armed bandit, I cannot rely on any of these responses to any situation. What comes up can be entirely random.

Now, all of those are emotional and behavioural responses. The last thing I would like to discuss is what happens to my physical health when I have a prolonged period of anxiety.

Because the body thinks it is under attack, it does a number of interesting things.

Firstly, it creates a sense of heightened awareness. This is something viewers of Sherlock probably think is great, but they would be very wrong. In real life, you don’t see a handful of things and the possibilities shrink to one obvious answer - instead, data washes over you so much as to become essentially meaningless. Along with the constant running dialogue in your head, this means that you become very, very confused and the filters we employ in our day-to-day life to just construct the simplistic narratives that make up our lives break down completely. You second guess until you convince yourself people hate you whilst simultaneously knowing they don’t hate you, and this cognitive dissonance becomes your new normal.

Secondly, your brain floods with chemicals designed to make sure that you can spot and fend off attacks. This means you are constantly looking for attacks which might not even be there. This can lead to arguments, misdirected anger, and much more.

Thirdly, due to this state of worry you can tend to under-eat at times and then over-eat to make up for it. Being anxious actually makes me feel sick, physically sick, but this also means that I then don’t eat for extended periods. When I realise I haven’t eaten in 18 hours, I then gorge myself to make up for it - not enjoying the food, the feeling afterwards, and often eating comfort foods or drinking alcohol to manage the feelings of upset and inadequacy that I feel as a consequence.

Fourthly, almost every muscle in my body becomes taut as if in preparation for an attack. It is a state of constant preparedness for fighting of some kind. However, as I have been in a state of anxiety for TWO MONTHS, I am now extremely tired the entire time, but not sleeping properly because my brain i constantly fearing an upcoming attack of some kind. So, instead of just getting tired and sleeping, I’m getting tired, not sleeping, eventually missing most of the normal day due to this cycle, and then ending up repeating it again and again throughout the day. I am now completely shattered, mentally, physically and emotionally as a consequence of this period of anxiety. However, this has also caused actual health problems to worsen as a consequence, such as the pain in my legs from a car accident years ago which worsen with my anxiety as they are connected to my muscles.

Fifthly, it also causes me to grind my jaws, which has serious dental problems as a consequence.

So, that is what my anxiety is like for me.

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