#absolutely did not have a mental breakdown over the background for like 3 hours

[isjasz]

💚💙💜 art collab with @literallydumbr and thanks @pawu-jelly for the idea :D

Pose ref under the cut ->

From pinterest!

#desert duo #scarian #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #<- for the color palette and context LMAO #i forgot to tag that just in case on twitter i hope people just see the excess blush as design choice (copium) #also absolutely incredible tag from lit #super epic cool and awesome collaboration between cool and epic people draw desert duo because gay #yes you guessed it the idea behind this is literally just #🌈 #pawu ur brain is so huge #hope the tumblr people like this BHAKLHAKL WE HAD SO MUCH FUN :D #absolutely did not have a mental breakdown over the background for like 3 hours

[bbywonu]

mixed messages. juyeon.

masterlist

a/n: juyeon is sweet boy. give him kith for me.

requested: no <3

summary: reader takes silence for rejection. 

word count: 1.4k

I unclasped my hands from one another as I wiped off the perspiration from them and onto the sides of my jeans. I quickly held my hand to my chest as to make sure my pounding heart wouldn’t leap out. In all my worry, I had arrived to the cafe early. I took a quick sip of my drink in order to try and calm my nerves. 

I could have sworn that my heart skipped a beat when I heard the bell ring from the entrance of the shop. I couldn’t bare to meet my eyes with his, too mixed up in my own thoughts to even comprehend what I was about to do. I was tired of sitting around and not knowing what would come next, so I decided to do something about it. Hence, me sitting here looking like the human form of a mental breakdown. 

The clearing of a throat grabbed my attention as I looked up, my eyes finally connecting with his. I hadn’t realized that I was staring at him until I saw that he mumbled something towards me. He held a curious gaze in my direction as he shifted to get comfortable in his seat.

“I’m sorry?” I asked.

“I asked if you were alright? You look awfully shaken up.” His eyes held concern as he asked his question.

“I’m fine, I just had a rough day.” I mentally gave myself a facepalm as I knew I had spilled my words out too fast. He knew me too well to know that I was in fact not fine. I tried to reassure him by offering him a warm smile. “I promise.”

“I ordered you some coffee since I arrived early. I hope you don’t mind.” I quickly tried to change the subject as I gestured to the mug that sat on the side of the table. He gladly thanked me as we delved into a multitude of talking points. I soon found myself becoming free from my worries and stress. I even relaxed to the point where I began laughing along with him as he engaged with me in conversation. 

His eyes lit up as he told me about his day, which made me chuckle because it reminded me of an excited child. The only time that he would pause his story would be to take another sip of his drink. As time went on, I soon found myself growing anxious without knowing it. I had a feeling that Juyeon could sense it as well because every once in a while he would shoot me empathetic looks as if he could that something was wrong. 

Was this really the right idea?

“Before we both forget, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” He slid a hand through his hair as he shot me yet another concerned look.

This was it - the moment I had been dreading since I had planned this whole meetup. I promised myself that I wouldn’t back down this time. My hands shuffled nervously in my lap as I shifted my weight on my chair preparing to confess to him. I let out an awkward chuckle as I cleared my throat. Everything in my mind was telling me to not go through with it but then again, I’m sure he would find out eventually. I’m almost positive that it’s completely obvious just by the way I act whenever I am around him.

“I actually wanted to meet you here to tell you-” My voice got caught in my throat. I looked up at him just for a split second in order to gage his response. He looked at me with a small smile as he waited in anticipation for what I was going to say next. “I wanted to tell you that I have feelings for you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just didn’t want to risk our friendship because you know how much you mean to me. I hope that I haven’t made this awkward.”

His eyebrows raised slightly as he looked at me with parted lips. I stayed silent as I waited for his response, twitching in my seat as the silence became more and more heavy. I began to panic as I tried to think of a way out of this. My cheeks felt hot to the touch as I swiftly gathered up my things. 

“I’m sorry, please just forget about all of this. I’m so so sorry.” I stuttered over my words as I began to quickly walk towards to exit, tears threatening to spill out over my cheeks. I heard my name being called from afar, but I was already set on heading home. 

It had been two hours since the so called incident. Since then, I had promptly cried my eyes out as a random rom-com played in the background. I felt embarrassed beyond belief. I couldn’t believe that I had just confessed to one of my best friends of three years and he couldn’t even say anything. Could it be that he was repulsed by even the thought of having feelings for me? I had a million and one thoughts floating around in my head before a knock on my door shook me out of my trance.

I groaned slightly as I grabbed another tissue, attempting to clear away stray tears and convince whoever it was that was behind the door that I had most certainly not been crying. Though, I’m sure my puffy cheeks were going to give it away almost immediately. I lazily walked over to the door as I cracked it open slightly, only to reveal none other than Juyeon himself. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I attempted to not let my voice crack.

“I think we should talk.” He was leaned in close to the door as he had one hand resting on the side of the frame, positioning himself so that he could try and see me better. I looked down as I mentally sighed feeling the tears pool in my eyes once again. 

“There’s nothing to talk about Juyeon. I like you and you don’t feel the same way. Now if you don’t mind, I’m really tired and I would like to get some sleep.” I tried to close the door but he beat me to the punch as he already had one foot in the door. 

“I never said that I don’t feel the same way.” 

“Actually, you didn’t say anything at all.” My voice cracked as I looked up at him. He was now standing fully in the doorway inching closer as he realized how hurt I actually was by the situation. “Which is actually much worse.” “I know.” He paused as he looked down at me. If you looked hard enough then you could see the thoughts swirling around in his mind, almost as if he was trying to piece together what to say next. “I’m sorry, I should have said something. But don’t for one second think that my silence was taken for not having feelings towards you.”

I looked up at him, my heart pounding faster in my chest, only this time it was for a different reason. He took my face in his hand as he looked down upon me with pure adoration. 

“Somewhere in the midst of us being friends, I fell for you. I honestly don’t know how it happened, but I’m glad it did because then we wouldn’t be in the situation that we’re in right now. I absolutely have feelings for you, Y/n.” He laughed as he made eye contact with me. He leaned in slowly as he kissed me softly on the lips. If you listened hard enough, then I’m sure there were fireworks going off somewhere. We stayed like that for a moment more before pulling away, small smiles on each of our faces.

“Well, I guess come on in unless you’re just going to stand in my doorway all day.” I sat on the couch as I shot him a playful grin, patting the seat beside me as he gave me a large smile. I could feel him staring at me as he joined me on the couch. I turned towards him with an expectant look.

“You look cute with puffy cheeks.” He said as he leaned over to pinch them. 

I scoffed in response as I rested my head on his shoulder. I let out a sigh of relief that I hadn’t realized I had been holding. I smiled to myself as I was glad that I hadn’t lost my best friend, and had gained something even better. 

#lee juyeon #juyeon #the boyz imagines #the boyz #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #the boyz scenarios #juyeon the boyz #kpop fanfic #tbz imagines #tbz fluff #the boyz fluff #kpop fluff

[teawaffles]

The Fugitives from the Fire: Chapter 3

Note: Some language.

Showers of sparks flew in all directions, fanned by blasts of hot air; amidst all that, both police officers and locals were using buckets and pots to throw water on the flames, in a strenuous bid to put out the fire.

“……Oi oi, we’ve already got a problem?” Sherlock mumbled, half in shock.

It wouldn’t be easily resolved — in an unexpected way, those words had come true. Lestrade grabbed a nearby officer by the arm.

“What the hell happened here?!”

The officer answered loudly, almost in a scream.

“A fire broke out! The building we were holding the criminal in caught fire!”

“……Jesus!”

Lestrade spat that word out, and threw himself into the firefighting effort right away.

“I’ll help too! Someone give me water!”

A split second later, Sherlock also moved to help. He took a bucket of water from the man closest to him — but the moment he saw his face, he stopped.

“……Gregson?” [1]

The man — Assistant Inspector Gregson — widened his eyes in shock.

“Holmes! You bastard — why’re you here?!”

As a famous detective, Sherlock often disregarded the police when solving his cases; Gregson could never stand the sight of him, and so it was no wonder he’d raised his voice. However, having grown accustomed to that enmity, Sherlock spoke quickly in response.

“Lestrade called me in himself. Anyway, were you the one sent to secure the other fugitive?”

Gregson waved the question away, as if he was in a terrible gloom.

“Dammit, quit yammering! Let’s talk about the details later! Our priority now’s to put out the fire!”

Saying that, he rushed off to draw more water. It was a reasonable point, so Sherlock refrained from pursuing the matter. Still, he found Gregson’s unusually impatient manner strange.

The quick arrest of the first fugitive. The burning building. And Assistant Inspector Gregson.

From all the elements that had presented themselves at this stage, Sherlock Holmes was certain that this case would be a tough one.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Roughly five hours after Sherlock and Lestrade arrived at the scene, the fire had finally been extinguished.

Having given their all in putting out the fire, the volunteer firefighters were now sitting on the roads as they caught their breath. But the building had been reduced to nothing more than a charred skeleton — it had completely burnt down. A heap of blackened wood lay on the ground where it once stood; within it, tiny embers still smouldered away, and thin trails of smoke wafted into the air. It was still too dangerous to enter the site, but as a small blessing amidst this misfortune, the adjacent buildings had been left largely unscathed, with only their outer walls scorched by the flames.

“……It feels like one job’s been completed, but the real work starts here, huh.”

A worn-out Sherlock muttered to himself, having already shed his jacket. Then, the familiar voice of his partner rang out in his mind.

“Sherlock. Isn’t it too convenient for a fire to break out at this time? If the fugitive they were interrogating had been caught in the blaze……”

——I know. But first, let’s remain calm, and listen to what they have to say.

He answered John in his heart, then walked over to Lestrade, who was conferring with another officer a short distance away. It seemed he was in the middle of asking the other officer what had happened.

“O—y, Lestrade. Did you find anything useful?”

“Yeah: it seems it’s going to be a while before we can inspect the scene, but from my subordinate’s report, I’ve gotten the details of what happened before this. I’ll explain.”

Saying that, Lestrade began to narrate the sequence of events, and Sherlock listened in silence.

From what he’d heard from his subordinate, the building was a cheap old three-storey inn built from wood. After searching the interior based on the tip-off, they quickly found and arrested one of the fugitives. After which, in order to find the location of the other criminal, they immediately brought the arrested man to a room and began to interrogate him.

“Where’s the room located?”

Sherlock cut in, and Lestrade looked up at the spot where the room had likely once stood.

“It was at the end of the second floor — the one the man himself had rented. Each floor had three rooms: taking the ground floor as an example, the room numbers had been assigned as 101, 102 and 103. ” [2]

“So the one at the end of the second floor would be number 303. Did all the officers storm the room together?”

“No; out of the ten men who arrived first, five of them entered the building while the other five stood by in the vicinity. Among the five who entered, two were questioning the man in room 303, one stood watch outside the room, while the remaining two stood in the ground and first floor corridors respectively, observing the movements of the guests in the inn.”

Listening to the breakdown of the officers’ positions, Sherlock looked at the ruins of the building as they lay heaped on the ground.

“If the building was only this large, leaving five people outside would be enough…… But why have men stationed on each floor at the corridors?”

“The other fugitive might’ve been hiding in the building, so they wanted to interview the guests and ascertain their backgrounds. However, it seems the innkeeper detests the Yard: they allowed us to question the fugitive, but refused to let us to visit the other rooms, insisting it would bother the guests. So the officers had no choice but to quietly stand watch in the corridors.”

Having realised yet again the animosity in the slums towards the police, Lestrade sighed, and Sherlock nodded in reply.

“From the start, the source of the information had been an anonymous tip-off, which is　suspicious. The story up to that point was that the police arrived here half in doubt, then actually found the criminal — from that alone, it would’ve been difficult to insist on advancing the investigation any further.”

Sherlock understood the bind the officers had found themselves in back then. He continued.

“During the interrogation, they did check everyone who entered and left the inn, didn’t they?”

“Of course. But I didn’t receive any reports about any suspicious characters.”

“Okay. I’ve got the deployment of the officers at the time; please continue.”

The arrested fugitive had been surprisingly stubborn, and refused to utter a word about the other man’s whereabouts. At that rate, the officers had judged that they were getting nowhere, and left the room for a short break. Their strategy had been to give the man time to relax, then force him into a state of tension once again, in order to strain his mental state.

In addition, by this time, the locals had gotten wind of the Yard’s presence. They’d begun to gather around the inn and create a commotion: the atmosphere had turned bleak. In order to avoid the situation escalating into a riot, out of the five officers in the building, four went outside to appeal to them to remain calm.

Just like this, the fugitive had been left alone in the room. The man had been made to sit in a wooden chair that had been furnished as part of the room, with each of his hands cuffed to the chair’s armrests. The only entry point to the room — the door — had one officer standing guard in front of it. Moreover, even if he were to leave by the window opposite the door, as the room was on the second floor, he couldn’t simply escape by jumping out. With these conditions in place, the officers had thought that there was no chance of him escaping.

——In fact, that line of thought had held true. The criminal had not escaped; rather, he had been murdered inside the room.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Five minutes after their break had started. In the vicinity of the inn, something odd had arisen. Complaints and jeers had suddenly turned into shrieks and screams. The lone police officer who’d remained in the building thought it strange, and immediately after, someone yelled “Fire!”.

He went downstairs to see for himself: true enough, flames were rising up from the ground floor. The officer rushed to spread the word to everyone in the building, directing them to evacuate. Of course, he then went to release the man handcuffed in room 303, but the door couldn’t open: it had been locked from the inside.

At this point, Sherlock placed a hand under his chin as he muttered.

“If he had been bound to a chair, then even with his hands cuffed to the armrests, he would still be able to move around the room. If it’d been a bed, depending on the size of it, he might still be able to move. The man could’ve locked the door from the inside, but…… By the way, was it really locked? And not that the door had been warped and gotten stuck, or something?”

“It seems that much was certain: I understood he tried many times, but found the door locked from within.”

“I see. Sorry, I’ve been interrupting you quite a bit.”

“No, I don’t mind……. After that, the officer peeked into the room via the keyhole. And then, inside the room, he saw something he would never have imagined.”

From Lestrade’s tone, Sherlock was fairly certain what had happened in there.

“The room was locked from the inside, and the man lay dead within it……?”

It seemed his prediction had been spot on: startled, Lestrade stared at him, then muttered “Yeah” in a sombre tone as he continued.

——From the keyhole, the officer saw the man lying prone on the floor while still cuffed to the chair. His back had been soaked in a red substance akin to blood, and he showed absolutely no sign of movement. Amidst the commotion from the fire, it was as if time had stood still for him alone.

Panicked, the officer rammed the door in a bid to break it down. But no matter how many times he slammed himself against it, the door merely creaked, showing no signs of opening. Apparently, the innkeeper had taken precautions to prevent the police from entering the rooms without their permission — it seemed the doors had been robustly built. Making matters worse, his fellow officers were desperately engaged in fighting the fire, as well as evacuating the surrounding residents: they had no leeway to come to the second floor and help.

After that, the officer kept trying to break the door open. But the fire swept through the wooden building, and soon, the flames had reached the floor right beneath him. Inside the room, the man remained motionless. After a further struggle, the police officer gave up on rescuing him, and ensured that there was no one else left in the building as he made his escape.

That was the gist of how the inn had been burnt to the ground.

“…………”

A sudden fire. A room with its door firmly shut. And a man who’d collapsed in a prone position.

Having listened till the end of the story, Sherlock replayed the situation back then in his head. In his heart, he cracked a wry smile.

The search for a fugitive had turned into a locked-room case.

T/N: It’s a proper mystery this time!! I quite like this one :3

Footnotes:

[1] Gregson first appeared in Chapter 8 (“A Study in ‘S’, Act 2") after Lestrade arrested Sherlock on suspicion of Count Drebber’s murder. This is his first panel:

(Taken from the official translation of Volume 2)

[2] Similar to Story 1, I’ll be using the British way of referring to building levels (i.e. ground floor, first floor, second floor).

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #the girl who sees rainbows

[uwu-boll]

Yesterday I consumed nearly 4 grams of mushrooms. Here is what that was like for me:

First, this isnt my first rodeo. I've consumed psychedelics a few times before; I wouldnt call myself necessarily experienced but I have an education background in psychopharmacology and I have a couple of trips under my belt already so I knew what to expect and how it was going to feel going into it. 2 months ago. my girlfriend and I purchased 7 grams of mushrooms to split for our anniversary weekend this past week. We purchased a hotel room - I wanted to avoid doing this at home due to a very stressful living situation - and situated our setting so as to be best prepared to go about our experience. This included water, music, videogames, some snacks, etc. The necessities.

Our day started following a night of several shared margaritas and burgers between us. We went swimming, had coffee and a light breakfast, went to therapy together, and then a healthy midday lunch. Following that, we gathered the supplies for the night and settled in at around 3pm. Starting then, I measured out the dosages for the both of us; 2.75g for her, 3.87g for me (the dosages were more or less arbitrary, but we had a ballpark of what kind of experience we were looking for). She ate hers straight up, while I prepared a 'lemon tek'; powdered shrooms soaked in lemon juice for some time. There is some science behind it, but the idea is to shorten the duration or the experience while making it more intense. This also helps with digestion to prevent nausea, although there will still be some present as your body tries to 'reject' the chemical.

My shrooms sat in lemon juice for 20 mins before I tossed them all in orange juice for me to take big gulps of. Disclaimer - I HATE the taste, smell, texture, EVERYTHING about mushrooms. This... isnt necessarily better, but it's the best way to consume them short of capsules, I've found.

3:25 PM: I start drinking my pulpy orange juice - mushroom cocktail. It tastes like sour orange juice, because of the lemon juice I added, but the thought of the mushrooms in there makes me gag before I even get the concoction in my mouth. I can already tell this is going to be an endeavour. I take one big swig, maybe a fifth of the bottle, and approximately a quarter of the dose. I wait about 5 mins before taking another swig

3:35: one more swig, followed by a dab, hoping that the weed will calm my tummy. It does, but not before I nearly puke coughing up a lung

3:45: I finish the cocktail. This whole time I'm watching my girlfriend - who is approximately 15 minutes ahead of me having already dosed - set up the Nintendo switch and design a character on Tony Hawks Pro Skater, the remastered edition. She finishes, we take a dab, and we start playing. We, for some reason, start with a VS game, first to 500,000 points. I dont know why we thought that was a good idea, but we did. From here on, times are approximate.

Approximately 3:50: We are mindlessly skating in complete silence, absolute fixated in this game. I'm pretty high from the dabs as it is, so I'm spacing out and having trouble coordinating.

Approximately 4:00: I'm focused entirely on how gross my stomach feels having drank the cocktail. My body feels heavy, and it's very difficult to coordinate in the game properly.

Approximately 4:15: We are probably 100,000 points into this game before we both realize how long it's going to take before anyone wins. Were both kinda over it, and clearly struggling with performing and we only know it's going to get worse. As the come up begins, I feel a profound sense of anxiety. Recognizing it as the comeup anxiety, I dismiss it, but it's quickly becoming pretty overwhelming. The lemon tek, in shortening and intensifying the experience, creates very powerful come ups. We stop playing THPS and switch to Super Mario 3D World, which makes me feel better

Approximately 4:30: We get through 2 levels before we stop playing for the night. We decide to cuddle and try to calm each other down. We put on Bo Burnham's 'Inside' to listen to while we come up, which was a great idea because we love him. Really got us talking about our pasts and the meanings behind each of his songs. My body is very heavy, but I feel at absolute peace within it - I'm not biting my nails compulsively or shaking my legs - despite the come up anxiety and the slight nausea. I feel attached to the bed, I didnt want to get up even if I had to. I am absolutely CHEESIN, smiling so hard my cheeks still hurt a day later.

Approximately 4:45: I am staring at the wall, looking at what appears to be a pattern overlaying the texture of the wall. I see the same pattern on the bathroom floor. I'm questioning as to whether or not it's really there. I quickly move to the ceiling - a popcorn ceiling - where I am blown away; the lighting in the room makes the ceiling look both purple and green. My pareidolia is going crazy and I see constantly shifting patterns in the white noise that is the popcorn ceiling. The crazy thing is knowing that there is no pattern to the nonsense I am seeing, but making out patterns regardless. I stare at this for awhile. The ceiling is flowing like water.

The exact order of events henceforth are kind of a blur. We lay in bed for the rest of the night, but the topics of discussion vary from point to point, mostly us complimenting each other and praising each other. At some point, Inside ended, and we listened to Hamilton. However, I hardly remember both the end of Inside nor the entirety of Hamilton, and so it's likely that around d approximately 5 oclock, began the Great Existential Breakdown (TM)

At approximately 5 oclock, I was peaking. Emotions were running high, and, in response to being hungry, I had a breakdown because I hated the fact that I was born into a world dominated by cruelty, inhumanity, and the insatiable drive for profit. I hated that I lived in a world where something as simple as hunger was a problem, and that food - a human right - is commodified. I hated that consumption was obligatory, and that to feed the endless gluttony that is the human need to consume, we exploit both our fellow humans, and the planet. I hated that in that obligatory need to consume, weve facilitated this social climate in which it's okay to pollute our world and exploit the human labor condition so as long as its convenient to the consumer and profitable to the corporation. (Now that I think about it, this may have been spurned by Bo Burnhams 'That Funny Feeling', which I feel like is his most powerful song on the album. ) This quickly evolved into how being born, and forced into a world without your consent where conditions like this exist in the first place is inherently a violent act, and that having children is immoral until we create an environment where those conditions are obsolete. Then to how bullshit it is that I am forced to take care of a meatsuit for the whole of my life, but I have to pay to upkeep all of it as if i had some choice in the matter. This lead to me talking about how I wanted to be a transient observer of the universe, untethered to any physical point in space. Not quite dead, not quite alive - still able to see things happen, but not be able to participate. I then went on to say how I didnt think suicide was the answer to my problems because that doesnt necessarily get rid of the conditions that lead to my despair, but rather creates new problems for my loved ones. I knew that the key was to live in despite of the despair and to continue on in search of my own personal meaning.

This breakdown lasted approximately 3 hours and was very emotional for both of us. We spent a lot of time crying and talking about stuff weve never spoken about before. The comedown was very gentle and helped me feel very cathartic and relaxed. Over the course of the comedown I took several dabs, a few of which brought me back to 'The Wonky Space' (TM). However, this was short lived. My girlfriend sat in the tub naked from the waist down, which quickly turned into a bath, and from there, after my breakdown, we started to relax, watch some Shameless, went downstairs, got some snacks, some drinks, and went to bed.

Before I fell asleep, and once I knew the experience was 100% over, I took some time to reflect and felt very satisfied with what happened. It wasnt at all what I expected the night to be, but I felt like I needed to do that, and experience that kind of existential pain. I felt very relaxed once I got control of my body again, and that peace - the general sense of wellbeing, happiness, lack of anxiety, connectivity to my partner and my fellow man - has persisted well into the next day, and will likely continue for at least the next week. 10/10 would do again.

Would I say I had a bad trip? No. Was it a good one? N...no. but I had a great time, it was fun, and enlightening, and helped me realize where I feel like I am struggling mentally.

[for-your-therapeutic-smile]

They Never Teach You How to Stop

Rarely do I lack the words to express myself. Perhaps this reflects my failure to maintain my journal consistently throughout 2020. Here goes an honest attempt to capture and document my mental state and the fatigue of Covid, the inertia of this shelter-in-place, the anxiety of this political crisis we face as a nation, the pressure of being a 1L in law school against the backdrop of civil unrest and Justice Ginsburg’s death, coming out - my dad told me he was disappointed -, the possible erosion of my relationship with someone I love, and this feeling of absolute dread and resentment for a system that continuously fails my and future generations (robbing us of a social contract that promised life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness), among many other things I’m too tired to consider. When did we accept a $0 baseline as the American Dream? Oh, to be debt free - free from this punishment for having pursued an education. Stifling the educated to prevent them (myself included) from organizing and mobilizing the masses so we can supplant this system with a better one is the overall objective of the oppressive class (read: Pedagogy of the Oppressed); it’s the conflict between the bourgeois and the proletariat. The proletariat has swallowed the middle class, leaving only the ruling class. I am essentially on autopilot, forcing myself to go through the motions so I can survive another day. I know others join me in this mental gymnastics of unparalleled proportions, one social scientists and medical researchers will soon study and subsequently publish their findings in an attempt to explain the unexplainable. Despite a lack of air circulation, we are breathing history; the constitution, like our societal norms, must adapt accordingly. Judge Barrett: there is no place for originalism. While I seldom admit weakness or an inability to manage life’s curveballs, this series of unfortunate events seems almost too much to bear. 

And yet somehow I continue to find the energy to submit assignments due at 11:59 p.m., write this post at 1:38 a.m., “sleep”, wake at 7 a.m. so I can read and prepare (last minute!) the assigned material leading into my torts or contracts class. I find the energy to text my boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend) so I can attempt to salvage the real and genuine connection we have, cook elaborate meals to find some solace, wrestle with whether or not to hit my yoga mat (I don’t), apply to a fellowship for the school year and summer internships, prepare my dual citizenship paperwork, manage a campaign for two progressive politicians, and listen to music in an attempt to stay sane . . . ~*Queues John Mayer’s “War of My Life” and “Stop This Train”*~ . . . I realize I have to be kinder to myself, give credit where credit is due. I hate feeling self-congratulatory though.

Mostly, I am too afraid of the repercussions if I stop moving at a mile/minute, that I can just work away the pain and be the superhuman who numbs himself from the low-grade depression and nervous breakdown. My body tells me to slow down, as evidenced by the grinding of my teeth, but I take on more responsibility because people rely on me. I must show up. I am a masochist in that way. This is what I signed up for and I’ll be damned if I don’t carry through on my promise to do the work. Pieces of my soul scattered about like Horcruxes, though they’re pure, not evil, so I hope nobody resolves to destroy them. 

My mind rarely rests. It’s 3:08 a.m., one of the lonelier hours where night meets morning; it’s the hour for and of intense introspection. It makes you consider pulling an all-nighter, one you reserve for an “important” school or work deadline. We always put our personal lives on the back-burner. 3 a.m. sets the tone for a potentially awful day. But that doesn’t matter right now. I’m letting some of my favorite albums play in the background: Joni Mitchell’s Blue, Mac Miller’s Circles, Rhye’s Blood, Alicia Keys’ ALICIA, Coldplay’s Ghost Stories, Frank Ocean’s Blonde, Miley Cyrus’ Dead Petz in addition to other playlists, Tiny Desk performances, and tracks (I unearthed last week, like When It’s Over by Sugar Ray). I need to feel something. I need to feel anything. I need to feel everything. We experience such a broad spectrum of emotions throughout the day that we lose track of if we don’t pause to absorb them. Music reinforces empathy; it releases dopamine.

I spent the past two hours reading through old journals and posts, as scattered as they were, on a wide range of topics: poems I had written about falling in and out love, anecdotes about my world travels, and entries on personal, political, and professional epiphanies. The other night I found one of my favorites, a previous post from my time living in Indonesia, centering on the dualities of technology. It resonated with me more than the others. To summarize, I wrote about my tendency to equate the Internet with a sense of interconnectedness (shoutout to Tumblr for being my digital journal; to Twitter for being a place of comedy and revolution; to Instagram for curating my *aesthetic*; to Facebook where I track my family’s accomplishments and connect with travel buddies displaced around the globe all searching for a home). And yet I feel incredibly lonely and disconnected whenever I spend too much time using technology, so much so that I set screen time limitations on my phone recently to curtail this obsession with constant communication and information gathering. Trump and Biden admitted that it’s unlikely we’ll know the results of the election on November 3rd during their first presidential debate. Push notifications don’t allow us to learn of trauma within the comforts of our own homes. I’m already fearing where I will be when that news breaks. 

This global pandemic and indefinite shutdown of the world (economy) undeniably exacerbates these feelings. This is some personal and collective turmoil. But I was complicit in the endless scrolling and swiping of faces and places long before Covid-19. Instead of choosing to interact with my direct environment (today’s research links this behavior to the same levels of depression one feels when they play slot machines), I am still an active on all these platforms, participating the least in the most tangible one: my physical life. I am tired of pretending. I am tired of being tired. I am tired of embodying fake energy to exist in systems that fail me. I am tired of the quagmire. Like Anaïs Nin, I must be a mermaid [because] I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living. This particular excerpt from that 2016 entry was difficult for me to read: “The fantasy of what could have been if a certain plan had unfolded will haunt you forever if you do not come to peace with the reality of the situation. I hope you come to terms with reality.” I am not at peace with my current reality. But is anyone?

It’s a bit surreal for my peers to have suddenly started caring about international relations theory. It’s transported me back to my 2012 IR lecture at Northeastern: are you a constructivist or a feminist? Realist or liberalist? Neo? Marxist? The one no one wants you to talk about. Absent upward mobility, this is class warfare. But I cannot be “a singular expression of myself . . . there are too many parts, too many spaces, too many manifestations, too many lines, too many curves, too many troubles, too many journeys, too many mountains, too many rivers” . . . It feels like America’s wake-up call. But I know people will retreat into the comforts of capitalism if Biden wins and, well, we all enter uncharted waters together if the Electoral College re-elects #45. For those who weren’t paying attention: the world is multipolar and we are not the hegemon. Norms matter. People tend to be self-interested and shortsighted. Look to the past in order to understand the future. History, as the old adage goes, repeats itself. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Taxation without representation. Indoctrination. Welcome to the language of political discourse. Students of IR and polisci have long awaited your participation. Too little too late? Plot twist: it’s a lifelong commitment. You must continue to engage irrespective of the election outcome or else we will regress just as quickly as we progress. Now dive into international human rights treaties (International Covenant on Civil & Political Rights; International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights), political refugees, FGM. No one said it wasn’t dismal. But it’s important. We need buy-in.  

While I am grateful for the continuation of my education, for this extended time with family, for this opportunity to be a campaign manager for two local progressive candidates (driving to Boston to pick up revised yard signs as proof that the work never stops), it would be remiss of me, however, not to admit that I am lonely: I am buried in my books, in the depressing news both nationally and globally, and in precedent-setting Supreme Court cases (sometimes for the worst, e.g. against the preservation of our environment). In my nonexistent free time I work on political asylum cases, essentially creating an enforceability framework of international law, for people fleeing country conditions so unthinkable (the irony of that work when my country falls greater into authoritarianism and oligarchy is not lost on me). I am fulfilling my dream of becoming a human rights lawyer which stems back to middle school. I saw Things I Imagined (thank you Solange). I have held an original copy of the Declaration of Independence that we sent to the House of Lords in 1778 and the Human Rights Act of 1998 while visiting the U.K. Parliamentary Archives as an intern for a Member of Parliament. This success terrifies and exhausts me; it also oxygenizes and saves me. Every decision, every sacrifice, has led me to this point. 

“It’s the choosing that’s important, isn’t it?,” Lois Lowry of The Giver rhetorically asks. This post is not intended to be woe is me! I am fortunate to be in this position, to have this vantage point at such an early age, and I understand the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. My life has purpose. I am committed to the work that transcends boundaries; it is larger than life itself. It provides a unique perspective. But it makes it difficult to coexist with people so preoccupied in the drama they create in their lives and the general shallowness of the world we live. It feels like there is no option to pump the brakes on any of this work, especially in light of our current climate, and that pressure oftentimes feels insurmountable. Time is of the essence. It feels, whether true or not, that hardly anyone relates to my experience, so if I don’t carve out this time to write about it, then I am neither recording nor processing it. 

Tonight, in between preparing tomorrow’s coursework, I realize that I have an unprecedented number of questions about life, which startles me because typically I have the answers or at least have a goal in mind that launches me into the next phase of life or contextualizes the current one. These goals, often rooted in this capitalistic framework, in this falsity of “needing” to advance my career as a means of helping people, distract me from asking myself the existential questions, the reasons for why we live and what we fundamentally want our systems to look like; they have distracted me from real grassroots community organizing until now. They distract me from the fact that, like John Mayer, I don’t know which walls to smash; similarly, I don’t know which train to board. Right now feels like we are living through impossible and hopeless times and I don’t want to placate myself into thinking otherwise despite my relatively optimistic outlook on life. As we face catastrophic circumstances – the consequences of this election and climate change (famine, refugees, lack of resources) – I do not want to live in perpetual sadness. I am searching for clarity and direction so I can step into a better, fuller version of myself. 

It’s now 3:33 a.m. Here is the list of questions that I have often asked myself in different stages of life, but recently, until now, I have not been willing to confront for fear that I might not be able to answers them. But I owe it to myself to pose them here so I can have the overdue conversation, the one I know leads me to better understanding myself:

Are you happy? Why or why not?

What do you want the future to hold? What groundwork are you going to do to ensure it happens?

What does your ideal day/week/month/year/decade look like? Why?

With whom do you want to spend your days? Why?

Who do you love and care about? Have you told people you care about that you love them? Does love and vulnerability scare you?

What do you expect of people – of yourself, of your partner, of your family, and of your friends? Should you have those expectations? Why or why not?

What do you feel and why?

What relaxes you? What scares you? What brings you joy?

What do you want to improve? Why?

What do you want to forgive yourself for and why?

Does the desire to reinvent yourself diminish your ability to be present?

Do you have a greater fear of failure or success? Why?

How do you escape the confines of this broken system? How do you break from the guilt of participation in it and having benefited from it?

How do we reconcile our daily lives with the fact that we’re living through an extinction event? This one comes from my friend (hi Jeanne) and a podcast she listened to recently.

How do you help people? How do you help yourself? Are you pouring from an empty cup?

How will you find joy in your everyday responsibilities, in the mission you have chosen for yourself? What, if any, will be the warning signs to walk away from this work, in part or in its entirety? Without being a martyr, do you believe in dying for the cause?

So here are some of the lessons I have learned during this quarantine/past year:

“I’ve Got Dreams to Remember,” so do not take your eyes off them. Chasing paper does not bring you happiness.

Be autonomous, particularly in your professional life.

Focus on values instead of accolades.

Do everything with intention and honest energy.

Listen to Tracy Chapman’s “Crossroads” & Talkin’ Bout a Revolution for an energy boost and reminder that other revolutionaries have shared and continue to share your fervent passion . . . “I’m trying to protect what I keep inside, all the reasons why I live my life” . . . When self-doubt nearly cripples you and you yearn a few minutes to run away when in reality you can’t escape your responsibilities, go for a drive and queue up “Fast Car” . . . “I got no plans, I ain’t going nowhere, so take your fast car and keep on driving.”

With that said, take every opportunity to travel (you can take the work with you if absolutely necessary). Go to Italy. Buy the concert ticket and lose yourself in the moment. Remember that solo excursions are equally as important as collective ones. But, from personal experience, you prefer the company. Find the balance.

Detach from the numbers people keep trying to assign to measure your personhood.

Closely examine the people in your inner circle and ask them for help when you need it.

“And life is just too short to keep playing the game . . . because if you really want somebody [or something], you’ll figure it out later, or else you will just spend the rest of the night with a BlackBerry on your chest hoping it goes *vibration, vibration*” (John Mayer’s Edge of Desire) . . . so love fiercely and unapologetically.

Be specific.

Go to therapy even when life is good.

#reflection #covid #quarantine #late nights #music #revolution #diary #politics #john mayer #alicia keys #tracy chapman #love #dear diary #travel #writing #personal #mental health

[the-gray-ghosty]

LLoyd dyes his hair/sibling fluff

so I have seen the idea where LLoyd dyes his hair, and decided i’d write about it but with some sibling fluff added in. (Mostly Lloyd, Nya, and Skylar.) Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Skylar’s POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What colors do you want?” Skylar asks Lloyd, looking at all of the options of hair dye.

“I think that sky blue is pretty,” Nya says, pointing at the light blue dye on the shelf,  

“But you can do whatever you want.” Nya says with a kind smile. 

Lloyd picks up the blue she brought up and puts it in the basket Skylar is holding. He then grabs a green bottle from the shelf and looks at it. 

“I like this one, it's bright.” Lloyd says as he looks at the girls. “What do you think?” 

“I think it's great!” Skylar says as she puts it in the basket. She loves the color green on Lloyd, and is glad he is also going for blue. It will look pretty damn cool. 

“Now we need gloves and a shower cap. I'll get the cap, you guys want to go find the gloves?” Skylar asks the two ninjas. They both nod and walk away. Skylar laughs to herself as she sees the clock on the wall of the convenience store they are at. It reads 12:34am. Nya and Skylar were having a sleepover when they had both woken up to screaming coming from Lloyd's room. They rushed in and found him having a terrible nightmare. Nya woke him up and tried to calm him down, for he often has mental breakdowns after nightmares this bad. After they calmed him down Nya whispered to her how they should distract him and Skylar mentioned hair-dying. That's how they ended up here. She wasn’t upset though. She would do Anything for Lloyd, especially after he saved her (and carried her halfway across Ninjago) during their fight with the colossus. 

She turns the corner to see Lloyd and Nya physically wrestling for a bag. It’s a  neon pink shower cap. Lloyd looks up from where he is laying on the ground and quickly jumps up, muttering something about stupid pink shower caps. 

“You gotta help me Skylar,” he says breathlessly while Nya stands in triumph behind him. 

“Nya wants me to wear a pink shower cap and I really don't want to.” he starts to smile, then laughs. Skylar knows that he really doesn't care, it's more for fun and his pride. 

“Awwww I think you would look beautiful in it Lloyd, and that's 2 out of 3 votes so sorry bud.” she says with a shit-eating grin. Lloyd laughs and puts the cap in the basket.  They walk up to the counter, passing the candy aisle. Skylar pretends to not notice when Lloyd gets a handful of candy bars into the basket, smiling like a little kid. He kinda is a little kid, she thinks sadly, remembering the tea. 

The dude at the counter looks half asleep, and surprised they are there, which is weird because Lloyd and Nya fighting for the cap was definitely not quiet. 

They walk out into the dark street with their bags, and Skylar slightly shivers from the crisp air. Lloyd hands her his sweatshirt, which she realizes isn't his sweatshirt as she puts it on. 

“Is this Coles?” she asks, pointing to the symbol of earth on the back. 

“Yea, I took it from him.” Lloyd says with a smug grin. 

“He has very comfy hoodies.” Nya adds on. “I steal his sweatpants too.”

Both laugh at that, and  Skylar giggles. 

Lloyd and Nya create their power dragons and Skylar jumps on the dragon with Lloyd, and they fly for about 15 minutes up to the monastery.

~~~~~~~~time skip~~~~~~~~~~~~nobody’s POV~~~~~~~~~~~~

After they sneaked back into the monastery they settled in Nya’s bedroom/bathroom. They all know Nya has the biggest bathroom so that’s where it would be best to dye Lloyd’s hair. 

“I'm so excited!” Lloyd exclaims happily while setting up the dyes on the counter. He adds-

“I’ve always wanted to dye my hair!” and Nya rubs his golden locks and snorts.

“What do you think Kai’s reaction will be? And Wu, and everyone else?” she asks the two others smiling. Lloyd and Skylar start laughing, both imagining everyone’s reactions. 

Nya then claps her hands together and dramatically exclaims;

“Well Lloyd, you ready to become beautiful?” 

“I'm already beautiful, but hell yea!” Skylar snorts at that response from the green ninja. 

Skylar squeezes each bottle of dye (green and blue) into their seperate bowls while Nya makes Lloyd sit in the big chair in front of the mirror and she starts sectioning off his hair. 

“I guess after this the boys won't be able to call you Rapunzel anymore.”

 Nya laughs at Skylar’s comment and shakes her head. 

“The boys and their dumb nicknames, I swear.” she mutters, snickering. 

Skylar turns on Nya’s music speaker and turns on auto-play for some background sound, then walks over and helps Nya section off Lloyd's hair. 

~~~~~~~~~~time skip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Too late to turn back now, green-bean.” Nya states excitedly as she starts dying his hair. Nya was painting with the green dye while Skylar was painting with the blue dye. They had bought gloves and rubber bands at the store also, the bands were around sections telling each girl where to dye what color. 

Lloyd slightly clears his throat and starts talking to the girls;

“To be honest, I'm really excited. I have been wanting a change for a while, and this is so fun! It's also...it's really nice of you guys to do this for me. I know it's really late, and...thanks.”

“Aww Lloyd you are so sweet! I would give you a hug but my hands are kind of covered in blue so you will get hugged later.'' Skylar says with a laugh. Nya nods in harmony. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~time skip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ready to rinse it out?” 

“Hell yes!” Lloyd cries as he jumps up off the chair and runs over to the bathtub, where he turns on the water. It's been an hour of sitting, waiting for the dye to sink in. Nya walks over and scrubs the back of his head. There is soooo much dye coming out of his hair, running into the tub. 

“FSM this better not stain my bathtub.” Nya mutters. Lloyd chitters at that. 

After about 15 minutes of Lloyd rinsing off his hair, he sits back into the chair and Skylar grabs the blow dryer.

Skylar combs and dries his hair, and Nya sits on the counter and watches. Lloyd is faced away from the mirror because he insisted it had to be a surprise.

“Whether it's a good surprise or a bad surprise, I don't know” he says with a laugh and a huge smile on his face. 

It’s now about 3:30am, and it's a surprise none of the other ninjas have woken up. They aren't really being that quiet, Lloyd thinks, listening to the Katy Perry coming out of the speaker. 

“And...we’re done!” Skylar exclaims as Nya and Lloyd cheer. 

“Are you ready to see your hair?” 

“Heck yes!” Lloyd declared and spun the chair around. 

“WOAH THIS IS SO AWESOME!!” Lloyd jumps up and runs his hands through his now green and blue hair. 

“I LOVE IT!!” he cries out as he snatches both Skylar and Nya in a hug. 

“Thank you both, you are amazing; the best sisters I could ever ask for.” Skylar beams with happiness at that comment, and Nya giggles. 

“Well I don't know about any of you, but I am dead tired,” Nya starts to say, watching Lloyd play with his new colored hair. 

“Do you guys wanna hit the sack?” 

Skylar nods and turns off the lights in the bathroom. 

“We can clean up tomorrow.'' Lloyd tittered at that and started walking to the door. 

Nya jumps up. “Wait, why don't you sleep in here with us?” 

Lloyd turns to face her as Skylar adds; 

“Yes we have a mattress in the closet, here let me-” she jumps up and runs into the closet, pulling out a foam mattress and some blankets. Lloyd absolutely beams. 

“Thanks guys, this means so much” he states as he lays down on the make-shift bed, knowing that he wont have any more nightmares tonight. 

“Honestly though I can’t wait for everyone's reactions, we will have to make a plan tomorrow to show them.'' Skylar says while giggling. “Goodnight guys.” She hears 2 responses and falls asleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~morning, 9am~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~Lloyd’s POV~~~~~~~

Lloyd wakes up to giggling and realizes he isn't in his own bed. He panics, then remembers what happened last night. He rolls over and sees his sisters laying on Nya’s bed watching TV. 

“Morning girls! He cheerfully exclaims as they both jump, neither had noticed he was awake. 

Nya sits up and smiles at the boy with colored hair. 

“I'm sooooo excited to show the team!” Nya says quickly, and Skylar and Lloyd both laugh in agreement. 

“We need to make a plan, are they all awake yet?” he asks the girls.

“Yes, they are all awake. Zane came up and asked us if you wanted to play videogames with them but we refused. We told him you were still sleeping.'' Skylar tells Lloyd as he stands up and stretches. 

“They are all in the video game room, even Wu.-” Skylar gasps. “What if Nya and I went down and watched them play, totally normal right? Then you come down and just sit down next to us, like nothing is wrong? You know how they get with videogames, we should see how long it takes them to notice!” Lloyd snorts and starts laughing at this idea. 

“Hell yes, that is what we are doing.” 

Both Nya and Skylar have huge grins on their faces as they walk downstairs and sit on the farthest away couch from the couch the other ninja are on in the gaming room. A couple of the guys say good morning, (Cole, Zane and Jay) but none of the others really notice they are there.

That's when chaos starts. When Lloyd walks in.

It was fine when he first walked in, saying good morning. He walks in front of the other boy’s couch and goes to sit with Nya. Cole is the first to notice. He doubles back, staring at Lloyd, then bursts out laughing. Zane and Jay turn to see what he is laughing at and see it. Zane isn't fazed, just says;

“Cool look!” While Jay on the other hand jumps up and runs to Lloyd, grabbing a handful of his now green/blue hair, saying

“OH MY GoSH THIS IS SO COOL! WHEN DID YOU DO THIS???” to which Nya responds with;

“Last night.” with a smug grin and Skylar nods. 

Wu had just put a hand on his forehead and looked either disappointed or trying not to smile. Actually, Lloyd thought, he looked both. 

That’s when Kai ran over, and saw. He looks like he’s about to pass out. That's what makes Lloyd lose it. The look on Kai’s face of confusion. He is laughing so hard there are tears in his eyes and the girls are giggling as well.

After the chaos slows down, Lloyd answers the big questions; 

“We did it last night, around 3am I think.” he responds, looking at Nya for confirmation, she nods, saying that yes it was around 3am. That's when Jay noticed something. 

“Wait, green and blue? That's my color! Does that mean I'm your favorite brother?” Kai then jumps up and retorts; “Obviously I'm his favorite brother.”  The two start bickering, but not meanly, more like brotherly-arguing. 

Lloyd steps in and stops the argument by saying

“Actually if the blue stands for anyone here it's Nya.” Nya beams and looks at the boys with a look that says “Ha Ha Ha I Win!” Lloyd snickers.  

Lloyd gets many more nicknames from his brothers after dying his hair, but he loves how colorful it is. And a few months after it wore out, he went to his sisters for help dying it again, this time pink.

#ninjago #lloyd garmadon #nya smith #skylar #lego ninjago #lego ninjago: masters of spinjitzu #funny #sorry its so long

[madamslayyy]

Log Cabin and A Brewing Fire (Trevante Rhodes x Reader)

Pairing: Nebraska Williams (Trevante Rhodes) x Reader.

Warning: Suicide mention, Dark Themes, Depression Themes, Angst

A/N: Hey y’all, so I don’t know if y’all remember Trevante’s character in that dumbass Predator movie but he play Ex-Commanding officer Gaylord ‘Nebraska’ Williams. If you haven’t seen the movie I won’t spoil it for you but I took that character and his back story and kind of twisted it for the purpose of this story (ps there are no aliens or anything here, the events of the movie never happened, i just used his character and backstory). THIS IS SLOW BURN!!! I plan for it to have a couple more chapters, at least 3 more and maybe a little epilogue. Not gonna drag it out like my Untitled Series (lol remember that fossil 🤣🤣) but it’s gonna have some build up. Really sad themes in here so please be cautious. Also let me know what you guys think and if y’all would like to see more of it ! Anyway i hope y’all enjoy it🥰🥰🥰

Well today was the day. You were getting a roommate. A real roommate. But not by choice.

Your Uncle and last close relative you had left, was an army general, and his Lieutenant, his number two, the young man he’d always seen as something akin to a son... put a bullet in his brain.

It tore your Uncle apart. Your Aunt was barren and the two never looked into alternative methods to have a child.

By protocol, the Lieutenant was supposed to be dishonorably discharged from service but your uncle had managed to pull a few strings and get the boy a temporary leave of absence. And that’s where you came in.

Mental health was something you’d struggled with your whole life. Finally, on the verge of a mental breakdown, you left the city, opting to move into a cozy small cabin on the edge of a little New England town. You had a job at the local museum by day and that helped cover most of your bills, your Incle quietly taking care of the rest. You were happy here. And healthy. It finally put you in a place to heal without the expectations and constant showboating of modern society. You’d found your peace at last.

And your Uncle knew it. And he hoped it would do the same for his favorite soldier as well.

You’d been nervous at first, having never had an actual roommate before, let alone a suicidal, male ex-soldier with PTSD that could probably snap your neck like a twig given the slightest inclination. All concerns you’d brought to your Uncle who’d assured you “The kid wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless that fly was himself.”

So you’d trusted that. He was set to arrive today. You’d spent the entire weekend making sure your home was spotless and that his room would have everything a guest would possibly need. You knew how hard it was to bounce back from a dark place and environment was one of the greatest impacts.

At 13:00 sharp, your Uncle was pulling into your driveway, as punctual as ever. He exited the vehicle first, pulling you into a hug. You could see he’d aged considerably since the last time you saw him, his hair beginning to show small sprouts of grey on the sides.

“Uncle Raynard, long time now see,” you smiled. He and your Aunt lived nearly two states over so it was rare you’d go to visit, especially by yourself.

“Y/N, you’ve grown since the last time I saw you,” he chuckled, laughing as you rolled your eyes. You’d been the same short height since you were in middle school.

“Did you have a safe drive over?” You asked, watching as the other car door opened.

“Eh, we got a little rain once we hit the highwa-“ your uncles words began to fade into the background as you watched one of the finest men you’d ever laid eyes upon step out of the passengers side of the your uncles Cadillac.

Smooth, dark skin, full lips, incredible physic, thriving beard, and he was tall to top it all off. Your confusion was off the charts. This man looked like th poster child for Black Male self care and self love. For him to look like that and not want to live, you knew whatever was eating at him sure as hell couldn’t be skin deep.

“Ah, took you long enough. Y/N, I’d like to introduce you to Lieutenant Gaylord Williams, Williams this is my pride and joy, my niece Y/N.” The lieutenant dropped the suitcase he was holding in one hand and held it out to you, his other hand carrying an enormous duffle as if it was as light as a grocery bag.

“Most people just call me Nebraska,” he said shaking your hand. His voice matched his build and features perfectly: deep, sensual and sincere like his words were going straight through you.

“Ne-bras-ka,” you said in a bit of a daze as you shook his hand slowly. You could see the veins trailing up his arm.

“Thanks for uh... for having me,” he said with downcast eyes. You could see he was obviously a little uncomfortable with the whole thing.

“Of course, any thing for Uncle RayRay,” you said flashing a smile at your Uncle.

“Well I’d love to stay longer but the roads are supposed to ice over from that rain later tonight and I’m trying to get home before then. Anything you need before I take off?” Your Uncle said giving you one last hug.

“I’m think I’m good. Be careful on the roads. Gotta get back to Aunti Mae in one piece.”

“Course, nothing less.” He turned to Nebraska, “Anything you need before I go, Lieutenant Williams?”

“No sir,” he said raising his arm to salute your Uncle but Raynard pulled him into a hug instead.

“It’s gonna be alright, son. You’re gonna get through this.” He said to him, holding him tight. He tensed for a moment before hugging your uncle back. You smiled at the scene before you, seeing Black men openly support each other in cases such as these was a rarity. Mental health was a touchy subject to begin with and most opted to ignore it rather than combat it.

“You two be good and I’ll call when I make it back home,” and with that your Uncle drove off, leaving the two of you standing there awkwardly. You just realize how bitterly cold it was outside.

“Well you must be freezing, let’s get you inside,” you said holding the door open for him.

“Need any help with your bags?” He glanced over at you, purposely looking down as if to reference your short statue before continuing inside. Apparently he wasn’t much of a talker.

“So you’re room is going to be upstairs if you’ll follow me,” you led him to the room across the hall from your own. You’d been using it the last couple of months as sort of a green house where you grew all of your plants because it had an enormous window allowing for plenty of sunlight to stream through however you’d cleared them out and arranged them throughout the rest of your home so they’d still thrive outside of the room, only keeping a few in there that were especially sunlight dependent.

“Here we go. Need any help settling in?” He shook his head no looking around the room.

“Alrighty then. Anything I can get you? Coffee? Hot chocolate? Tea? Fresh-squeezed orang-“

“I’m good,” he said in a small voice. It almost sounded unnatural coming from him because his voice had such a deep timbre to it.

“Okay well I’ll let you settle in and come back to check on you later.” And with that you tiptoed out of the doorway

God he was so.... mysterious? Was that even a good word to use? It wasn’t really much of a mystery what he did, you knew and he knew you knew too, maybe that’s why it’s so awkward? Maybe he was just reserved? Shy? No, he’s in the army, they don’t get the luxury of being shy. Quiet? No they don’t get to be quiet either. Serious? Yes that’s it, he’s just a serious man and that’s what’s making everything so tense. Well that and the fact he put a bullet through his- okay no, nope we’re not gonna keep dwelling on that. He’s here now and he’s alive and that’s what matters. He’d probably rather forget that whole incident by now so you should go ahead and try to put it out of your mind as well.

Your mind was racing and you hadn’t even been paying attention to where you were going but had somehow ended up in the kitchen. You figured now was as great a time as any to start on a late lunch. But what should you cook for him? You couldn’t just make lunch for yourself, that’d be rude, especially on his first day. Maybe something Italian, everyone liked Pasta right? What if he didn’t eat meat? Or cheese? What if he was vegan? You knew some militants kept very strict diets and you’d hate to put him in such a compromising position. So you quickly decided to get to work and began cooking at once.

~*~

About an hour later you were almost done cooking when you realized you hadn’t heard a peep from Nebraska this entire time. The house was made of wood and would creak the second anyone put the slightest amount of weight on it, especially someone his size, yet you’d heard nothing.

You quickly ran upstairs, panic beginning to settle in as your thoughts took a turn for the worst. You swung the door open to see him on the bed fast asleep. He hadn’t changed clothes or even bothered to get under the covers. His bags were untouched in a neat corner of the room and he slept with his feet still firmly planted on the ground as if he had been sitting on the edge of the bed and simply laid back.

You didn’t mean to stare but this was the first time you got to actually appraise him without those intense brown orbs staring back into you. If you thought he was beautiful before at a glance then up close he was down right gorgeous. Even in his relaxed state, his arms rippled with veins, his swollen muscles making him look absolutely sculpted. You took note of his full lips, slightly parted in slumber. He was a silent sleeper, he didn’t snore or actually really move at all. It was almost as if he were.... dead.

The last thought seemed to bring you back to reality more as you remembered why you’d rushed up here in the first place. Now you were faced with the decision of waking him up from his nap or letting him sleep through to the evening.

You decided against the latter and moved towards him about to shake his shoulder when you paused. He was a military man, there was no telling what type of things he’d seen or reflexes he had. You decided to take a few steps back.

“Nebraskaaaa?” You cooed. He didn’t even twitch. You decided to grab one of the pillows off the bed and nudge him gently with that.

“Nebraskaaaa,” you cooed again, a little louder this time. His eyes fluttered open but he didn’t move. He simply stared at you, his eyes red from sleep.

“Heyyyyy....” you trailed off awkwardly, setting the pillow down, “lunch is um... lunch is ready.... if you’re hungry that is... or not.... either way it’s ready...”

“Yes ma’am,” he groaned, his voice thick from slumber. You could have fainted right there.

“Okay so I’ll see you down there then?” You realized how stupid that sounded the moment it left your mouth and mentally cringed. You couldn’t control your word vomit around him and that was presenting itself as a growing problem.

Luckily he didn’t seem to pay it any attention as he stood up, stopping at the doorway extending his arm in a swooping motion.

“Ladies first,” Okay maybe he was trying to kill you. Or maybe you were so accustomed to men having the manners of a bent spoon that you were just overthinking. Either way you had to get a grip on this or risk ruining all your best underwear.

“Thanks,” you said walking past him with your head down. Maybe if you ignore how fine he is, you’ll idle down until you’re used to it. That was going to be your plan. Just wait it out, eventually his looks won’t phase you. Or his voice. Or manners.

You made it downstairs and began to set the table. It took less than a minute because with only two people there wasn’t much to set. Nebraska stood staunchly at the doorway as if he were unsure what to do in this situation.

“You gonna sit down?” Wow that sounded rude. You couldn’t win for losing today, maybe it’d be best if you just didn’t say anything again ever.

He sat down without a word and you began sitting lunch on the table. Once everything was complete you stood proud of your creations.

“So I wasn’t sure if you had any dietary restrictions so I made Vegan Lasagna and Greek Salad hold the feta. Of course if you’d like feta I have that too, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t overstepping. I kn-

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said lowly causing you to falter in your rant.

“Oh... um..... I.... don’t mind. I cook for myself all the time anyway and there’s always extra so there’s really no change. Besides, I want you to feel at home here. And nothings says home like a home cooked meal.” You chuckled lightly. He said nothing. You were beginning to think maybe this stoic nature was his everyday personality and not just shyness.

The two of you ate in silence even though neither of you ate very much. You were to nervous to really eat and mostly picked at the food on your plate. He slowly ate his own portion, neither of you really putting a dent in anything.

When he finally finished, he rose from the table and headed towards the sink.

“Are you finished as well?” He asked reaching for your plate.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” you said handing it to him. He eyed the near full plate of food before dumping it in the trash and washing all the dishes. You began putting away the leftovers. When there was nothing left to do, you both kind of stood there in a thick silence.

“Thank you.... for the meal. And your hospitality,” Nebraska nodded towards you, before heading back upstairs towards his room.

You decided to do a bit of reading since you had time to pass this Sunday evening so you curled up on one of the plush chairs in your living room and started reading a new book by one of your favorite authors. It wasn’t newly published of course but it was new to you because you’d never read it.

You weren’t sure if it was the snow trinkling outside the window next to you, the comfortable silence in the house, or the exhaustion from preparing for a new guest but you’d fell asleep within ten minutes of sitting down, your book long forgotten.

When you woke up, it had to be late at night, the window beside you pitch black and covered in snow. You noticed the blanket you kept in a little basket in the corner of the living room was now draped across you. You knew you hadn’t grabbed it before you fell asleep so the only culprit had to be your new mysterious roommate.

You felt your stomach flutter at the sweet gesture. You silently scolded yourself about getting use to this type of thing. As soon as he got himself together and was army ready, he’d be gone and you’d never see him again. There was no use getting attached now if he was just going to leave.

~*~

A/N: So let me know what y’all think! I really did feel like Trevante Character in Predator was the only one actually fleshed out plus he was the only one who wasn’t just telling jokes and screaming. As always I’m tagging my usual Trevante gang, I’m so sorry if I forgot anybody, let me know and I’ll add ya to the list (best way is to let me know on my Trevante taglist post because I always check there first.)

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @queen-of-the-jabari @queennanayaa @clydevevo @queennanayaa @chaneajoyyy @killmongerthiskoochie @theunsweetenedtruth @blackgirloneshots @blmforeal @erikkillmongerstan @jozigrrl @quietstorm-73 @sailorsenshi420 @wakandamama @mxearth h @chefjessypooh @macfizzle @chasingsunlight @dameshaemonique @rubiesandravens @raysunshine78 @melaninmarvel l @melanisticroyalty @softnani @vibranium-soul @itstaliaduh @cinki-the-black-goddess @thehomierobbstark @darkangelchronicles @bartierbakarimobisson @doublesidedscoobysnacks @blackpinup22 @tchokemedaddy @clydevevo @amirra88 @labelletemps @wawakanda-btch

#trevante rhodes #trevante rhodes imagine #trevante rhodes x you #trevante rhodes x reader #predator #predator 2018

[halfbluemoons]

The Order - Hamish x Reader

Name: And You are - Part 5 Show: The Order Words: 1583 Ship: Hamish x Reader 

The queue was slow-moving, you were exhausted from yet another night of bad dreams featuring a certain blue-eyed irritant, and your new phone wasn’t going to be delivered for another week. So when Hamish-Professor Duke, you scolded yourself-sought you out at the union kiosk, you were already teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown. You wanted to cuss at him, tell him to leave you the fuck alone but his expression unsettled you. Panicked, he looked panicked. When your eyes met, he visibly relaxed but only slightly.

“Stalker much,” you said when he approached, he ran a hand through his hair while his gaze darted around the immediate area. You realised he was looking for someone, and found yourself looking around as well.

“Yesterday,” he said, “do you remember seeing my friend after the bar. Randall.” He was worried. It didn’t take a genius, thank God, for you to realise something had happened. Your gut twisted.

“No, sorry,” you replied, your tone genuinely apologetic. “I barely remember leaving myself, let alone anyone else.” Margaret and her friends had gotten you back to your dorm for a much needed nap, and yet you had no recollection of actually making the walk from campus to your halls of residence. Hamish showed no disappointment in your answer, in fact, he looked almost relieved. You doubted you were ever going to understand him.

“You need to go back to your dorm and stay there,” he ordered, and immediately your anger towards him resurfaced.

“I don’t need to do anything you say,” you snapped.

“I don’t have time for this!” He shouted. The majority of the union stopped to look in your direction, conversations halted. It honestly eluded you to who the fuck he thought he was. He knew nothing about you, how could he? And yet he swanned around as though he had any say whatsoever. Hell, your own Father didn’t have that much dictation over you. “Please. Please, I am begging you.” Your face was contorted between confusion and disbelief. “You could be in danger.”

“I recommend you fucking off,” you said slowly, quietly, and as clearly as you could. A fire ignited behind his eyes and for a split second, you swore they turned white. “You don’t scare me,” you added, matching the intensity of his glare. He snorted in disbelief and shook his head, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought for a moment that his cheekbones might break through.

“I’m trying to protect you...  I, fuck, I shouldn’t have dragged you back into this, I’m so sorry.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked, throwing your hands up. “You know what, just don’t… just go. The only danger here is you and your fucking creepy stalker bullshit.” The look on Hamish’s face confused you, adding to the mound of questions you still needed answers to. He was too much for any normal person to deal with, far too much. Conversation was building around the both of you but the glances and outright staring made you squirm. Hamish was rooted, the look of sheer sadness was beginning to make you feel bad but only a little, and you’d be damned if you were going to let him know it. “You should go, Professor Duke. I have somewhere to be.”You watched him storm off with a cocktail of emotions. The rational part of you wanted to be smug that you’d won the argument but you weren’t ignorant enough to truly believe you’d won  anything. Christ, the last person that’d made you feel so flabbergasted was your ex-boyfriend and you barely even remembered that relationship half the time. You eventually bought the coffee you were in line for but by the time you found a table, you weren’t in the mood to drink it. The fact that you then decided to head back to your dormitory was nothing to do with Hamish and his bizarre ‘danger’ paranoia, it was of your own complete accord. He could, frankly, go fuck himself.

You began biting the skin around your nails on the walk back and there were various moments when your heart jumped at completely normal circumstances. Was this your life now? Feeling threatened just because some random man you barely knew felt the need to forewarn you about his own shitty dramas? Because you could have done without. Stephanie was out which gave you a rare opportunity to shower and dripdry on your bed, wrapped in your favourite Jaws beach towel with your hair up in a unkept makeshift bun.

He  kept eluding to somehow knowing you but that made absolutely no sense. You’re certain you would have remembered someone like that given how intense he acted, and yet there was still something about him. His entire presence… it was like remembering a dream you thought you’d forgotten about. How was it possible to feel like that about an actual person? This was real life, and sure college was stressful, but you hadn’t completely lost the plot. Or maybe you had. It made no sense; he made no sense. Still, even in your frustration, you hoped he found his friend. After all, this Randall guy had done nothing to you and if the danger Hamish spoke of was real-the jury was still out-then Randall might be in some serious shit. You continued to bite your fingers and when they began to hurt, you moved onto the skin of your lips.

Stephanie returned in the evening and though you didn’t get on all that well, you were glad to have her company. You had tried to focus on your Identity assignment but every time you came back to the second of David Hume, you got distracted by thoughts of Hamish. You still couldn’t quite believe that this man, this Professor, had laid down on the ground next to you. He must have been on something. Hell, he probably still was.

“Hey,” Stephanie said as she waved her hand in front of you. “You in there?” You swatted her hand away. “You alright? You’ve dazed off at least six times since I got back.” You cleared your throat and took a second to rub your eyes.

“Yeah,” you replied, a little too late and without much conviction; she didn’t believe you. “I’m just stressed. I have an assignment due and there’s this guy-”

“Oooh, a guy!” Stephanie grinned. “Girl, why didn’t you say.”

“Why does everyone keep responding like that?” You asked, conflicted.

“You just...never talk about your love life or, y’know, your life at all,” Stephanie told you. So you kept to yourself, so what? You crossed your legs, wishing your pyjama bottoms were a bit longer on the leg.

“Are you cold?” You asked which made Stephanie snort.

“Deflection, nice.” You rolled your eyes and watched her cross the room to put her phone on charge. “You wanna talk about it or are we going to small talk about the weather, again?” You knew that was some kind of dig at you but you elected to ignore it. You’d argued enough for one day.

“He’s a Professor,” you told her. When she turned back to you, her eyebrow was raised. You already knew Stephanie liked gossip, she was always amidst someone’s drama so you were aware you couldn’t tell her everything, not if you didn’t want the entire college knowing before dawn. “I helped him, um, carry some things back to his house,” you tried to explain but even your adapted version sounded shady.

“Alright,” Stephanie said, her tone reflected her wariness at the matter too. “Did he try something?” She asked, serious.

“What? No. God, no, he was just really fucking rude afterwards,” you said. Hamish might have acted completely off his rocker but you couldn’t imagine him actually hurting you, that’s probably why you hadn’t reported him for being innapropriate. “I called him out on being rude and well, he continued being a dick.”

“Oh,” she said, “well, fuck him then. You should report him.”

“Mmm,” you said, not wanting to outright disagree in case it raised more questions. You already regretted trying to talk about it, it felt more complicated than that and...and you didn’t want her sticking her nose in your business in case it made things worse. Well, shit. You’re Hamish’s Stephanie. Wait, no. You were just chatting to Stephanie, it wasn’t like you’d been rude to her or gotten her involved in anything potentially dangerous. No. He was still the asshole in the wrong. You were nothing alike. Not at all.

“You wanna get drunk?” Stephanie asked. “Better than staying cooped up in here. There’s a single and ready to mingle night on at the Chalice.” You shook your head. If something happened to you...if whatever Hamish had warned you about happened, well the bastard would be right and you weren’t going to give him any reasons to be smug. “Your loss. My friends are coming to get me in an hour so I’m going for a shower.” She didn’t need you to response. In fact, you were usually just background noise in Stephanie’s life, and you never thought it would bother you. Until there was a knock at your door. Until you answered it, assuming it was Stephanie’s friends. Until the girl with long brown hair and a kind smile stabbed a needle into your neck. Until Stephanie got out of the shower and saw you weren’t there, and thought nothing of it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | ?

Asked for tag: @ymariejp @awesomenessfeet @missminx1993 

#Netflix the order #the order #Hamish duke #Hamish x reader #And You Are Part 5 #Undeclared Part 1 #knights of saint christopher #fanfiction #second person #And You Are series

[chewytongue]

All character solidifying Qs with Lou? Lou is my fave

1. How does you character think of their father? What do they hate and love about him? What influence- literal or imagined- did the father have?Lou used to have a good relationship with their dad before the divorce, their Dad is very caring and wants the best for them. After the divorce they’re really bitter towards him because he doesn’t manage to get custody and moves away. They feel like he abandoned them despite promising that he’d do everything he could to make sure their mom didn’t get custody and they stay mad at him for a really long time. They don’t see each other until Lou graduates high school and it’s a long process to patch things up between them. Lou has problems trusting people cause of that and also is weary about being openly queer since their father spent most of his life in the closet and didn’t receive overly positive reactions when he did come out.

2. Their mother? How do they think of her? What do they hate? Love? What influence- literal or imagined- did the mother have?They have a really bad relationship with her, she’s emotionally/mentally abusive and they take a lot of the things she says to heart. They don’t trust adults or people in positions of power because of her and are very self conscious and consider themselves a failure since she never gave them any positive reinforcements. They also can’t have someone yell at them without completely shutting down. There isn’t much they like about her other than the fact that no matter what she was a relentless bitch.

3. They don’t have any siblings

4. What type of discipline was your character subjected to at home? Strict? Lenient?Either there was no discipline, since overall their mother didn’t care what they did, or they’d get belittled/yelled at if they did something wrong/something that effected their mom (specifically her work/reputation).

5. Were they overprotected as a child? Sheltered?Absolutely not.

6. Did they feel rejection or affection as a child? Definitely rejection. Their dad gave them lots of affection before the divorce but the divorce happened when they were five so most of their childhood they were neglected.

7. What was the economic status of their family?Upper middle class, their mom’s a lawyer and made good money.

8. How does your character feel about religion?They have a very complicated relationship. They were raised catholic and used to go to church but stopped when they were 7 and started reading up on satanism. They like having a higher power to believe in and start going to church again when they’re older but still lean towards satanism.

9. What about political beliefs?They hate politics and I doubt they ever get their license to vote, if they do they probably just ask Ike who he’s voting for.

10. Is your character street-smart, book-smart, intelligent, intellectual, slow-witted?They don’t do well in school but they know a lot about the things they’re actually interested in, like religion and survival. I guess they’re intelligent? Idk.

11. How do they see themselves: as smart, as intelligent, uneducated?They consider themselves a dumbass because they measure that sort of stuff by the grades they received during school.

12. How does their education and intelligence- or lack thereof- reflect in their speech pattern, vocabulary, and pronunciations? Hmm. Well.. they use a lot of words like ‘dunno’ ‘y’know’ ‘shoulda’ etc. and they trip over their words sometimes. I wouldn’t say that reflects their intelligence though.

13. Did they like school? Teachers? Schoolmates?They hated school and didn’t try very hard so teachers were never overly fond of them. They were bullied for a while and weren’t very good at making friends, I think they actually went out of their way to avoid making friends.

14. Were they involved in school? Sports? Clubs? Debate? Were they unconnected?Nope. They did their best to fade into the background and go unnoticed.

15. Did they graduate? High school? College? Do they have a PHD? A GED?They graduated high school and that came as a surprise to them. They didn’t go to post-secondary.

16. What does your character do for a living? How do they like their profession? What do they like about it? Dislike?I actually decided that the job I have (a personal shopper) would be a great fit for them lmao. So that’s what they do, not forever cause they probably have to take a decent amount of time off to take care of themselves. They do graveyards since they hardly sleep anyway and so that they don’t have to interact with too many people so they don’t mind it overall, they do hate the occasional interaction with customers though.

17. Did they travel? Where? Why? When?They went to Disneyland before the divorce, just for a family vacation. They went to Toronto for their dad’s wedding after graduation. They’ve also been to Mexico with Mickey and Ike for Mickey’s cousin’s wedding sometime in their late 20s.

18. What did they find abroad, and what did they remember?They don’t remember much from their trip to Disneyland other than crying on the tea cup ride. In Toronto it was very awkward and they had a very bad mental breakdown during the reception. They spent an hour talking to Ike on the phone in the parking lot of a gas station across from where the reception was being held and drank a large slurpee. They probably threw up later that night from the alcohol from the wedding and all the sugar. In Mexico they ended up ‘reconnecting’ with god and also got a nice necklace from one of Mickey’s aunts. So like yeah they’ve had some good travel experiences.

19. What were your character’s deepest delusions? In life? What are they now?That their dad abandoned them, that they were going to die before they got to graduation, and that everything their mom said about them was tea™️. They also don’t believe that they’re capable of getting better.

20. Honest to god I ain’t got a clue they live in the same time we do.

21. What are your character’s manners like? What is their type of hero? Whom do they hate?They have very good manners when it comes to being polite people that are older than them but they can be pretty rude to people that are their age, especially if they don’t like them. They’re a big fan of the heroes in murder mysteries, specifically detectives like Poirot. And they hate a lot of people, specifically their middle school bullies and their mom, also politicians.

22. Who are their friends? Lovers? ‘Type’ or ‘ideal’ partner?Mickey and Ike are the only people they’ve had any sort of long lasting relationship with. Ike’s their best friend and has been since elementary school. They don’t really have a ‘type’, they’ve never considered what their type is since they never really got crushes and have only been in a relationship with Ike and Mickey. Overall, I&M are their ideal partners since they’re the only people they’ve ever felt comfortable with.

23. What do they want from a partner? What do they think and feel of sex?They kinda just want someone to chill with. They’re not big romance or sex, but they definitely don’t mind it, so long as their partner respects that they’re not always or often going to be down.

24. What social group and activities does your character attend? What role do they like to play? What role do they actually play usually?They attend group therapy on the rare occasion when Ike and/or Mickey drag them to it lmao??? They’re a wallflower and don’t take part in groups, they don’t like interacting with people.

25. What are their hobbies and interests?They love nature, they have lots of survival/plant/insect books, they’re also really into history, legends and witchcraft. They spend a lot of time in the woods and reading, mostly they read murder mysteries and try to figure out who the killer was before it’s revealed.

26. What does your character’s home look like? Personal taste? Clothing? Hair? Appearance?Their childhood home is medium sized, their room was upstairs and kinda a mess, they had lots of random junk in their room. They move into an apartment that they take better care of with Ike and Mickey’s help, they still keep a lot of random junk though. Their room is kinda crowded (in both houses). They like rooms to be darker and more filled cause it feels more cozy and makes them feel less vulnerable. They wear dark, concealing clothes, or they steal Mickey’s shirts, normally their tops are oversized. They’re hair is a mess and only looks decent because Mickey takes care of it for them. They’re pale and look very tired. Cause they are. Very tired.

27. How do they relate to their appearance? How do they wear their clothing? Style? Quality?They look like a disaster and they are. They start taking better care of themselves after they move out and when Mickey moves in and tries to make them put more effort into their appearance. Most of their clothes are thrifted, typically their pants are well fitted but their tops, specifically sweaters, are too big. They don’t have a specific style, but almost everything they wear are in dark shades.

28. Who is your character’s mate? How do they relate to them? How did they make their choice?Lmao I guess Ike and Mickey are their ‘mates’. They’re very different from both of them, they share some interests, Mickey’s into witchcraft and such spiritual things, and them and Ike have much history. They didn’t really ‘choose’ them it kinda just happened and I don’t think they’re sure how it happened, not that they’re going to complain.

29. What is your character’s weakness? Hubris? Pride? Controlling?They’re very distrusting, stubborn and don’t put much effort into anything. Also just very bad at communicating with people.

30. Are they holding onto something in the past? Can they forgive?They held onto the whole issue with their dad for most of their life but are working towards forgiving them; however, they can’t forgive how their mom treated them.

31. Nah son they don’t have kids.

32. How does your character react to stress situations? Defensively? Aggressively? Evasively?They either get too deep into their thoughts or dissociate, either way they’re probably shutting down.

33. Do they drink? Take drugs? What about their health?They don’t drink too often. The only drugs they take are antidepressants which they get when they’re 27, which they should’ve gotten sooner. Mentally their health is shit, they don’t take very good care of themselves either and can only run about three blocks before their out of breath.

34. Does your character feel self righteous? Revengeful? Contemptuous?Very much contemptuous.

35. Do they always rationalize errors? How do they accept disasters and failures?They just stopped giving a shit in grade 7.

36. Do they like to suffer? Like to see these people suffering?They don’t exactly like to suffer but they definitely make themselves suffer cause they think it’s what they deserve. They don’t like seeing other people suffer but of course there’s some people they wouldn’t mind seeing get tortured.

37. How is your character’s imagination? Daydreaming a lot? Worried most of the time? Living in memories?They spent a lot of time daydreaming about running away/disappearing. If not that their mind is full of invasive thoughts or completely blank.

38. Are they basically negative when facing new things? Suspicious? Hostile? Scared? Enthusiastic?They’re definitely weary about most new things, but not outright negative about them.

39. What do they like to ridicule? What do they find stupid?Themselves!! Haha!!

40. How is their sense of humour? Do they have one?They enjoy dark humour? Or like.. very odd humour. They might laugh at a really good pun or meme from time to time though.

41. Is your character aware of who they are? Strengths? Weaknesses? Idiosyncrasies? Capable of self-irony?They aren’t completely aware of what they could be capable of if they tried harder, but they’re very much aware of the state that they’re currently in they just don’t think that there’s a way to get out of it.

42. What does your character want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively? What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain?I guess they want freedom. They’d willingly sacrifice relationships, and cut people out of their life, to obtain it. I guess they’d also sacrifice their life since they see death as the only way they’ll ever achieve true freedom??

43. Does your character have any secrets? If so are they holding them back?Uh I can’t think of anything specific but yeah they have secrets. They keep a lot to themselves and if anyone is gonna know it’s gonna be Ike but sometimes he’s only going to know the bare minimum.

44. How badly do they want to obtain their life objectives? How do they pursue them?They don’t work very hard to get what they want, they’ll do small things but if it’s going to take a lot of effort they’re more likely to find away around it or just give up.

45. Is your character pragmatic? Think first? Responsible? All action? A visionary? Passionate? Quixotic?They think first, but a lot of the time they don’t like the make decisions themselves.

46. Is your character tall? Short? What about size? Weight? Posture? How do they feel about their physical body?Uhh.. I’m still considering what their exact height is.. 5’7” ish? So they’re about average height maybe? They’re thin cause they don’t eat very well. And overall not a big fan of their physical form.

47. Do they want to project an image of a younger, older, more important person? Do they want to be visible or invisible?I guess they don’t really care what sort of image they project, they just don’t want to be noticed. An image that says ‘leave me the fuck alone’ perhaps?

48. How are your character’s gestures? Vigorous? Weak? Controlled? Compulsive? Energetic? Sluggish?Very restrained, normally they touch their arms/hands/neck a lot.

49. What about their voice? Pitch? Strength? Tempo and rhythm or speech? Prononciation? Accent?Their voice is raspy and quiet, sometimes they trip over their words.

50. What are their prevailing facial expressions? Sour? Cheerful? Dominating?Sour/tired.

Holy guacamole that took a long time but thank you so much I’m glad that you like Lou!!!!

#FUCK DUDE THANKS💕💕💕 #long post #asks #appropriateasalways #ike&lou

[human-resourccs]

He Just Likes The Rush - Ch. 3

In which Scarecrows are born and it gets sorta gay for like a second there

~1300 words

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Looking back on it, Jonathan struggled to remember exactly how long it took after that first visit to his home that his research…. Escalated. He'd been well aware of his declining mental state - on some level, he had. But the warnings, the concern, the thoughts of slowing down; all of those rational things he should've been thinking had been getting locked away in the back of his mind as he redoubled his efforts on his life's work.

It had started out fairly well, to be fair. Having already become desensitized to the Riddler's…. disposition, it became fairly easy to hold a conversation when he was in a decent mood. The first thing he'd found out was that his new acquaintance's name was actually Edward Nigma - 'Common knowledge, Jonathan! Pick up a newspaper once in a while! Mister Riddler, really?' - and barely batted an eyelid at the oddity of it. Honestly, it was one of the less excessive things he'd done for his aesthetic.

The arrangement had been thusly; the Riddler had provided him with the contacts he'd been looking for, put him in a position where he could now reliably access the more shady dealings of Gotham’s underground; and in return Edward would typically bother him - either in person or over the phone - whenever it took his fancy. It was mutually agreed that this arrangement would be promptly broken with no harboured grudges if it ended up they both found each other absolutely intolerable. They both had some small amount to gain from either eventuality. For Edward, his curiosity would be at rest and an interesting addition made to the criminal scene in Gotham; for Jonathan, he would maintain his contacts regardless and end up with more time to dedicate to research.

All in all, it really wasn't a bad deal. Especially since they had found one another mutually agreeable; on good days, they'd debate various scientific, sociological, and literary-based topics. Sometimes, these discussions even became quite heated; especially where the fields of psychology were broached. Sometimes Jonathan would swear that his acquaintance was trying to goad him into throttling him.

"All I'm saying, Jon, is that- technically- technically! the ancient Greeks weren't as far off as they thought they were with regards to the humours of the body."

"That is objectively absurd. "

"Well - what are the causes of most psychiatric disorders, if not an imbalance of chemicals in the brain? Riddle me that! Sure, they undershot the number of chemicals a little, and wildly misinterpreted their identities and locations - but the core concept still stands, now, doesn't it?"

Edward, of course, knew exactly what he was doing - he just delighted in getting a rise from him.

"Edward, I am warning you..."

"Is that a begrudging admission of defeat I see through those gritted teeth?"

Neither of them were sure how that one didn't end without a trip to the emergency ward.

Though the raising of hackles was not entirely one-sided, of course. Jonathan also took great pleasure in his petty tortures.

"Jesus, Jon, how long have those dishes been there?"

"Mh? Dunno. Couple weeks, maybe. Lost count. I'll do them when I run out of clean ones."

Sometimes it took all his effort not to break the deadpan tone in his voice when the inevitable exclamations of horror from Edward soon followed.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Throw up in the corner; the mould's getting hungry."

The sight of the sheer speed with which the Riddler's face blanched - speedily exiting the room so the rogue might regain his composure - finally broke the stony expression he'd been trying to maintain; that was the first time Edward heard Jonathan laugh, and really laugh. Low and hearty, head thrown back, laughing until he was pink in the cheeks.

For some reason, Edward wasn't able to muster up the energy to be mad at the sight.

And on bad days, the Riddler would simply rant about whatever had slighted him or taken his interest in that particular instance, waving his hands in grand gestures and even getting up from where he was seated on a few occasions; Jonathan would half-listen and nod emphatically now and then. The background noise served to make it slightly easier to concentrate when he was thinking.

It was an odd arrangement, but they were odd people.

It was after that - if he concentrated, it must've been about a month, a little less - that things went sideways, as they always do. Edward seemed to have sensed the change, the slight shift in his personality - he didn't say anything. Perhaps it was out of some sense of respect, or perhaps it was for fear of the reaction. Hell - maybe he just wanted to see what would happen. Jonathan couldn't say he blamed him because that would've made him a massive, massive hypocrite; he'd have done the exact same thing, were the roles reversed.

Their talks became restricted to just phone contact; then became less frequent; then stopped altogether as the situation came to a head.

The situation. He kept dancing around the topic in his head, never thinking about it - was it because he struggled to sort through the hazy memory, or because he was scared - scared of admitting that Jonathan Crane, sanest man in the room, might've been more of a madman than he thought?

The preceding few nights, the lack of Edward's - of anyone's - presence, and his stock of resources had allowed him to work feverishly through the twilight hours until the sun came up, broken up only by his obligations as a lecturer.

It did not take a psychology doctorate to see the clear issue with this, and yet somehow Jonathan remained oblivious. Something had to give.

It had been innocent enough, such a small thing. Jonathan was no stranger to the habits of the students that his class was comprised of; they were young adults, a demographic that was always going to be known for their perceived lack of respect and general rowdiness. But for some reason, that day, they had just been so much louder than usual, he thought. So much louder - look, there, those four aren't even facing the front - and she's eating in the middle of the lecture- is that little brat napping in my class? How dare he? How dare any of them? He was here, teaching-

Oh, he would teach them, alright. It all happened so fast; nobody was really sure what Professor Crane had actually done to the boy who'd been sleeping at his desk. He just stopped, mid-sentence. He had this... weird look on his face. Walked over to the desk. Planted his hands on either side of it. Leaned in, whispering something with heated fervour;  such a dark, dark expression on his face.

The boy just…. Started screaming. flailing around like a madman. Didn't stop until the paramedics showed up and sedated the poor bastard. They didn't find any drugs in his system - they weren't to know that the chemicals had long since been metabolised - no history of mental illness, nothing. Of course, though nobody could prove that Jonathan had actually done anything to him, action still had to be taken. There were furious parents, friends of friends, all directing their anger at the university that something be done about this!

And so, Jonathan Crane, at least on paper, willingly resigned from his position at the University. This, of course, left him with a great deal of extra time on his hands. He wasn't even angry - the opposite, he was pleased, now that he could dedicate so much more time to his work.

Within the week, everyone who had been in attendance of the class that day began to have strange, inexplicable mental breakdowns. One by one - no explanation. Screaming about monsters and spiders and fire and drowning; none of them ever recovered. Not fully.

Within the month, vendetta sated, fear had closed its cruel, icy fingers around the hearts of Gotham's inhabitants - and with that fear, the first appearance of the Scarecrow, and subsequent capture after a long arduous pursuit on the part of the GCPD and the batman.

But the damage was done.  No time for regrets, nor doubts - this was the path Jonathan had set himself down and he intended to walk it to its conclusion.

His short stint in Arkham would prove to be most interesting.

#jonathan crane #scarecrow #edward nygma #the riddler #edward nigma #danny writes

[trashandstimcaf]

1-45 for two couples, whatever two you want~

Why u do this to me

1. Who’s the one who’s reckless and always getting into trouble while the other gotta pull em out  For Malakhara and Quinn it’s definitely Mala not that she’ll ever admit to needing Quinn’s help and Quinn sure as shit isn’t going to point it out. Dani needs Selvavra to bail her out almost every hour on the hour because Dani is physically incapable of shutting tf up.

2. Who’s the one to send the other “I love my gf/bf” memes Mala and Quinn aren’t really into memes. Selvavra and Dani on the other hand are a pair of memeing fucks but Dani sends danker memes

3. Who’s the one who listens to a music genre the other doesn’t like and how does the other react Malakhara likes to play the sith equivalent of gregorian chanting for hours on end because she is dramatic Quinn has learned to put up with it. Selvavra enjoys punk rock (mostly from the 70s and early 80s) while Dani listens to nothing but nightcore and edm. Selvavra will use the force to shut off Dani’s music if it’s too loud and Dani will whine after an hour of listening to Selvavra’s tunes so it’s an eternal musical back and forth.

4. Which one spoils the other more and do they ever get competitive to show the other more love Quinn is definitely the one that gives in this relationship he bends over backwards for Mala. Mala may once in while show some basic affection if only to keep Quinn on his toes. Selvavra and Dani are in a damn arms race for shows of affection and at this point one of them is going to have to rearrange a galaxy into the others initials.

5. How many years did it take to get married or was it just not for them Quinn and Mala got married ridiculously fast knowing each other for a whole 6 months before tying the knot and it was a huge affair and Mala was an absolute bridezilla. Selvavra and Dani are just happy being each others girlfriends/partners in crime for life they’ve no need for formal ceremonies or paperwork.

6. What was their wedding like Imagine a three ring circus crashed into Broadway play and then add a fire works show and you will have and approximate of Quinn and Malakhara’s wedding.

7. Is their friends/family supportive Mala’s family would set themselves on fire before trying to get involved in her personal affairs so they really don’t care about the relationship. Selvavra’s crew didn’t start out liking Dani too much given that she was a bounty hunter trying to bring in their captain. However they have seen first hand how happy she makes Selvavra, so now they watch out for her and try to keep her in one piece, despite Dani’s bull headed devotion to getting neck deep in trouble.

8. How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying If Mala is having a breakdown Quinn retreats and finds people he can direct his wife’s rage at. Because Mala will feel rage about having feelings. So much Rage. Selvavra tends to just scoop Dani up and cuddle her until Dani is ready to face the world. Dani makes bat shit convoluted schemes to cheer up Selvavra that usually go south quickly but still cheer up Selvavra.

9. Which one dissociates Quinn

10. Which one stares at the other’s booty like “damn” and how does the other react when catching them Mala and Quinn both do this Mala delights in teasing Quinn. Quinn on the other hand tries not to blush from his ears to his toes. Selvavra and Dani both think the other has the best booty and typically verbalize that opinion often.

11. When they live together what kinda place do they live in? What does their home look like? Mala and Quinn move into her sprawling family estate they get a whole wing to themselves. Quinn makes sure everything is to Mala’s liking and keeps the household running smoothly. It’s large and ostentatious like Mala’s personality. Dani and Selvavra consider home wherever the other one is.

12. What do their dates look like Date night with Mala and Quinn can be anything from going to a high society party, to a dinner at one of Kaas City’s more upscale restaurants, to a quiet stroll in the family estate gardens, but they all end with Quinn tied up and begging. Dani and Selvavra can be found in dive bars, carnivals/festivals, or somewhere quiet far from civilization whispering their hopes and dreams while in each others arms.

13. How does each act when getting drunk Mala gets more aggressive in her affections which may lead to her sticking her hands right down Quinn’s pants regardless of the setting. Quinn is a much more subdued drunk perhaps giving Mala a bit more lip that he would otherwise. Dani is a super giggly and having the time of her life while leaning heavily on whoever is closest to her. Selvavra tends to just get sleepy.

14. Which one rolls over in the morning to wake up the other one just to give kiss them Mala likes to do this and then go right back to sleep and will deny doing it later. Dani does this because Selvavra makes such a grumpy face when she does.

15. Have they saved each other’s lives before Mala did in a way but really it was Amistra’s way of condemning Quinn to death by transferring him to Mala’s ship. She didn’t expect Mala to keep him around. Quinn has patched her up after family infighting does not go Mala’s way. Selvavra saving Dani’s life was the start of their relationship.

16. Does one have an interest the other think is weird but wants to listen to it regardless Selvavra has a fascination with the Je’daii and Dani will listen but most of the force stuff goes over her head.

17. Which one uses cropped hentai as reaction images Dani and everyone would really like her to stop but also know it’s better to let her have this before she finds a more horrifying way to communicate.

18. Does one of them kinkshame the other Mala doesn’t so much kinkshame as she does tease Quinn from time to time when he gets too comfortable for her liking.

19. Is one of them self conscious about their body? If so how does the other comfort them Nah

20. Say they were cuddling on the bed while listening to record player playing the background. Which song is playing? More of Mala’s gregorian chanting. For Dani and Selvavra something like Teenage Kicks by The Undertones 

 21. What is their song? Like the song that gives them overwhelming feelings? Music doesn’t move Mala like that she’s more likely to think of Quinn  and her feelings for him in a quiet moment when his duties bring him away from her side. Dani and Selvavra’s different music tastes mean they don’t have a song but they do fondly remember the tune the band was playing at the cantina that Dani first tried to capture Selvavra in.

22. What song do they listen to while going on a joyride Mala and Quinn don’t joy ride. Dani and Selvavra argue over what to listen to.

23. What kinda joyrides do they go on? Relaxing ones or wild ones? Mala/Quinn don’t go on joy rides. Dani and Selvavra go on the kinds that cause a lot of property damage and probs get them deathmarks.

24. Where would they vacation for a honeymoon Mala/Quinn- luxe and far from her family Dani/Selvavra- Rishi

25. Do people ever get annoyed of their pda Mala and Quinn aren’t super big into pda well Quinn isn’t Mala likes to cling to him to get a reaction out of him when he’s not paying her enough attention. Most people have the good sense to avoid them so they don’t really annoy people. Selvavra’s crew would like to grab caf from the mess hall with out seeing Dani and Selvavra being all lovely dovey but they suck it up.

26. Would they live in the city or the country Mala and Quinn have both city and country residences. Dani and Selvavra live mostly on their ship.

27. Which ones the red which ones the blue Mala is red Quinn is blue. Dani is(physically blue) red Selvavra is Blue

28. Are either of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope They all have issues and don’t so much help as egg each other on.

29. Does one have a spot on them where they would melt when the other kisses them there Quinn likes neck kisses.

30. Do they dance together Yep

31. Do they sing together Nope

32. Which one is better at cooking than the other and makes most the dinners Mala grew up rich and spoiled Quinn enlisted in the military and got most of his food from the dining hall so neither one can cook particularly well but Quinn is less likely to set something on fire. Dani is better at it than Selvavra but makes a huge mess so she doesn't cook often.

34. Are they a reckless couple or safe Both are reckless but in wildly different ways.

35. What be they kinks and do they try each other’s kinks Mala and Quinn enjoy a D/s relationship with Mala as the dom and Quinn as sub. Dani likes bringing food into the bedroom but Selvavra put a limit to that after nearly burning her nipple with hot fudge.

36. What would their valentines gifts be to each other Mala is a fucking gift. Dani gets Selvavra something shiny that she probs stole. Selvavra gets Dani a new weapon or gear.

37. Do they get into fights often? If so what do they fight over and how do they make up? No for Mala/Quinn. Dani and Selvavra bicker a lot but rarely get into full arguments.

38. Which ones top, bottom, verse Mala top Quinn bottom Dani verse Selvavra top

39. What kinda sex they be having (gentle rough whatever) Mala/Quinn rough very rough it’s a wonder Quinn walks around as much as he does tbh. Dani and Selvavra mix it up.

40. Who would fight in honor for the other if someone would insult them Mala and Quinn would both do this. Say something punk prepared to get either eviscerated by lightsaber or shot in the knee caps and then enjoy a slow death when Quinn hands you over to Mala. Dani will fight anyone anytime Selvavra sees anyone not in her crew as not worth listening to.

41. Which one has a favorite movie that they have the other watch with them again and again I feel like Quinn would appreciate cinema.

42. How would one react if the other was to die Mala would be more upset than she’d like to admit and would go about carving out a nice big swath of destruction to work out those feelings. Quinn would mourn and probably not know what to do with himself aside from throw himself into his work. Selvavra would be broken mentally. Dani would be that woman you see at the bar year after year in the same stool drinking the same drink with a mean look in her eye.

43. Who dies first Quinn. Selvavra.

44. Do they want kids Yep Mala wants a whole litter and Quinn is fine with that. Dani and Selvavra have no interest in being parents.

45. How would they spend their last moments together Mala would hold Quinn’s hand and run her fingers over his knuckles reaching out in the force trying to pull him to her so they’ll be together even when their bodies no longer hold them. Selvavra and Dani hold each other and murmur all their little inside jokes going out laughing.

#stephentrevor #swtor oc #Malakhara #Selvavra #Dani #long post #oc asks

[whomsttfeatass]

Trollhunters season 2

Wow, okay, HOLY SHIT

SHIT WENT TF DOWN

Honestly I️ have to say I️ liked the first season better because I️ feel like it had more plot, character development, and resolution. Season 2 did a great job of keeping me on the edge of my seat and constantly filled with warring emotions, but I’m honestly kind of disappointed with the last episode? I️ felt like it all could’ve (and should’ve) gone quite differently, and it left me with more questions and unresolved emotions than answers.

SPOILERS AHEAD

For starters, what was the deal with Dictatious and Ursurna?? We never have any background on their characters. What caused the two of them to turn to Gunmar’s side? And what is Blinky and Dictatious’ history, that Dicky was believed to be dead? (Yes we are calling him Dicky now)

The evil troll version of Jim in The Deep. A 2 minute fight scene with no clear resolution. I️ was freaking out at the beginning of that scene because I️ thought there was going to be some juicy dialogue and/or self-discovery, only to be sorely disappointed. And then, maybe an hour later (in the show’s time) Jim has managed to climb out of a pit that literally no one else has ever returned from, with almost no trouble? Then just strolls back up to his friends like “yeah hey guys I’m alive, it’s chill”. I️ definitely would’ve liked to see them do more with that scene.

This isn’t much of a criticism, more of a big compliment; I️ really fuckin liked the Unbecoming episode, where Jim gets a “second chance” to not pick up the Amulet at all. It really hit hard because it showed exactly how fucked the world would be if Jim had never become the Trollhunter. Gunmar would’ve invaded Arcadia months before he did in Jim’s own timeline, and there was not a damn thing any troll, changeling, or human could do to stop him. It also showed all the friendships and experiences Jim would’ve missed; the experiences that made him exactly who he is. To be a fuckin nerd and quote Blinky, “The Amulet made you a Trollhunter, Master Jim. You made yourself a hero.” Wow, I️ just gave myself chills there. Anyway, that episode shows just how much Jim’s life, his friends’ lives, Arcadia, and the entire world was affected by Jim simply deciding to take a shortcut through the canal to school one morning. (Damn I️ gave myself chills again)

And then there was the last episode, In the Hall of the Gumm-Gumm King. The final ten minutes of that episode had me screaming, crying, laughing, and having a mental breakdown simultaneously. Quick recap of the events:

-Vendel is dead and Usurna convinces everyone that Jim killed him and is now also dead

-Jim climbs out of the Deep, a pit of “no return”, on his own with little to no difficulty

-Gunmar invades and takes over Trollmarket with the help of Dictatious, Usurna, and a possessed Draal

-Gunmar drains the Heartstone

-STEVE AND ELI NOW KNOW ABOUT TROLLS

-Claire and the gang pull some Guardians of the Galaxy shit in one of the most intense and badass scenes of the entire show SO FAR and share the strain of opening a massive portal, but Claire’s soul still gets corrupted I️ guess?? And now she’s connected with the Pale Lady??

-Blinky is the new Vendel

-All the trolls are being forced to relocate

-Strickler and Nomura are back!!

Any one or two of these alone would be a huge reveal/plot twist, but all of them together practically sent me over the edge. It was a great episode, but it left me with more questions than answers.

Don’t get me wrong, I️ absolutely adored this season. Split personality versions of Jim? Eli and Steve actually becoming best buds? Jim and Claire FINALLY officially dating? Jim, Claire, Toby, Eli, Steve, Mary, and Shannon hanging out together and having a great time during detention, WITHOUT being rude to each other? YES PLEASE AND THANK YOU L O R D

I️ think the thing I’m looking forward to most in Part 3 is more information on the Pale Lady. We know next to nothing about her, except that she was the one who removed Angor Rot’s soul and seems to be some kind of goddess or prophet for the Janus Order? In any case, I’d really like to know more about her, and how she fits in with trollkind OR maybe with one of the two new Arcadia series coming out in the next few years.

I️ think that covered all my thoughts?? I️ really liked the new season, but unfortunately I️ don’t believe it lived up to the legacy of the first season, which sequels rarely do.

Sorry for the long post, and thanks for reading!

#trollhunters #trollhunters season 2 #trollhunters part 2 #trollhunters spoilers #trollhunters part 2 spoilers #guillermo del toro #trollhunters analysis #this shit was longer than some essays ive turned in in the past #trollhunters season 2 spoilers

[dearmomimissyou]

So yesterday I tried to make a post explaining the back story of what caused Sunday's mental breakdown to happen and I tried to save it to drafts after spending 30 minutes on it while walking Miss Phyre outside but Tumblr decided to cock out and didn't actually save it which led to another mini meltdown afterwards so I'm just going to skip the background. It hurts to mich to relive it a g a i n. So thanks Tumblr.

Sunday I went to Sam's house after donating plasma cause dad was working on the electrical and I figured I'd just spend time there instead of being home. Instead, I ended up having a breakdown on Sam's back porch. I started crying inside while in the fetal position on the floor and figured that I should go outside so nobody heard me. I violently sobbed for at least ten minutes and dug my nails into my arm because I wanted to punish myself. I also went outside because I wanted to destroy Sam's living room and I can't do that but I can destroy myself and my things. I kept wanting to smash my head into something and eventually I did on the banister twice and screamed both times when I did it. After some time like five minutes of so Nemo came out and tried talking to me and I blew up on them and basically blamed them even though it wasn't their fault. They were crying and begging me to get help dad came out too crying because he heard me say that somebody was tearing me down and making feel like shit about myself but he didn't hear who and at the time it didn't make me feel anything but looking back fucking hurts. Sam came out too after Nemo went inside I think to talk to dad about what was happening and she brought Nala Tyler's cat and asked if I wanted cookies or soda to feel better. I just remember ignoring her and being so annoyed with her in the moment.

Eventually I got to the point where I couldn't physically talk and typed a message to Nemo:

I want to me normal I WA. T to be fixed and go just can't cause miss Phyre needs attention and the dress fitting and I don't want to worry mom and tge family but fucking here I dpimg just that all the God dam. Duckknf time vsvauar I can't fucking control my stupid fucking brain

They asked if I wanted to go to the lds hospital crisis center or if I wanted to wait til tomorrow:

I have to go today cause if I don't there be an excuse tomorrow like I feel better it always happens

So they drove me home so I could get some clothes and stuff to bring to be admitted into inpatient. The whole time I was getting stuff I cried and kissed miss Phyre and told her over and over how much I love her and that I'll be back I'm not abandoning her.

So we get up to the access center thing and because of covid Nemo has to leave but I get taken back pretty fast for the physical part and asking the standard health questions. They also take my stuff including my phone and the pieces of paper that I wrote down all my problems on and a brief breakdown of my childhood traumas. I sit in a pretty okay chair for what feels like an hour. I cry a bit but nothing too noticeable when I finally got back to see the crisis counselor she basically said I'm very knowledgeable about my mental illnesses and told me that she'd let their therapy coordinator know to give me a call on Tuesday and also gave me her business card so I could call too and said as long as I'm not a danger to myself I can go home. In that moment I wasn't in danger of hurting myself more and I did want to go home instead of being admitted so I could take care of Miss Phyre but this was the second time a crisis counselor told me I wasn't in enough danger to be admitted like? Excuse me? Sorry my fucking emotions turn on a fucking dime but I absolutely need professional fucking help please?

She led me back to my chair to wait for the psychiatrist or whatever and that time I didn't have to wait as long. I got a turkey sandwich box thingy that came with a fruit cup chips and a string cheese as well as mustard and mayo in packets to put on it and tomatoes and Lettuce on the side so you can add them if you want them. I only had time to eat the fruit cup and started spreading the mayo on my sandwich before the psychiatrist came to me and we talked and he said the same thing as the counselor thag I'm very insightful about my failings and then put me on welbutrin instead of Lexapro and said I'm good to go home. I went back to the chair finished making the sandwich and then ate it while filling out their crisis sheet thingy that's like when I'm in a bad place who can I go to type shit. I still had to wait to actually be discharged so J ate the string cheese too. I finally left and had to wait another thirtyish minutes for Nemo to come pick me up.

What the scratches looked like right after being discharged. We went back to Sam's house because dad was still doing the electrical and we stayed there for another hour or two before going home. Don't remember much after the discharge honestly.

Monday was labor day and we went shopping I got my pills and stuff from Smiths. Then we went back home to wait for mom and Karleigh to get up so we could go to Joanne's tk make a playyard thing for aidrian and the dollar store for other stuff I don't remember. Then we went to the grocery store to get pita bread for dinner and something else I forgot but we ended up shopping and spent like 200 dollars. We also went to Lowes to get more pvc pipe for the playyard because dad apparently didn't get enough the first time. We ate dinner with Dave which was tikki masala and it was pretty dang good. Also before we got my pills I walked Miss Phyre for a while outside and she loved it. I decided to give her a bath afterwards since she doesn't wash herself and she was oaky the entire time she didn't meow or hiss or anything. She tried to climb out of the tub but not like in an aggressive manner like she didn't want anything to do with the water. She was such a good girl.

When Dave left we started working in the playyard. We wrapped some pink tulle on the sides and tied it to the pvc with some thin yarn. It took us hours to do and it was just mom Karleigh and me because dad went to bed. It was grueling work because my body was already exhausted from shopping all day and I had to hold my arms above my head for extended periods of time. My heels were in excruciating pain but we finally finished half of the playyard at about 1230 only to find out the other tulle we bought was the wrong stuff. It was too small to have it folded over to keep the sides secure and wasn't long enough to reach both ends of the other tulle so we had to give up for the night which actually pissed me off more than finishing it would have probably. I ended up only going to sleep at 5 am and waking up at about 9 on Tuesday but it was a nice cool day so I took Miss Phyre out for another walk and while we walked I typed up the previous Tumblr post. When I was ready to go inside and take a break from reliving the shit that happened I saved it to drafts so I could finish it later and brought Miss Phyre inside. Then I realized that it didn't actually save it and I had another breakdown but not nearly as intense as Sunday. It didn't help that the therapy coordinator never actually called me. I got a call from a bit for Intermountain that asked a bunch of questions like do I understand my discharge orders am I feeling safe did I get medication and do I understand how to take the medication and I had to hit 1 for yes 2 for no and 3 for unsure and one of the questions was like am I still feeling like I'm in a crisis or something and I had to hit 1 three times because it just wouldn't register it and that pissed me off and made me mad that it was automated and they didn't even bother to have areal human call and talk to me. After every question I answered basically they said were sorry to hear that well have a nurse follow up with you later today. I ignored both calls from the nurse because I just didn't have the energy to deal with it after the Tumblr thing. Like I wasted so much energy just typing it out and what little I had left just instantly sapped after I realized it was gone. The second voicemail the nurse left mentioned that it would be the last time trying to get into contact with me but also that our insurance has mental health advocates so thats something I need to look into.

Eventually Cavell told my dad that I needed to be watched I guess and since dad was still at work and mom had just left to take aidrian back home mandi came downstairs and spent time with me. Cavell told my sad that I needed to eat so he texted mandi to make sure I ate something and we went upstairs and made pizza and waited for dad to come home. After that we had to wait for mom and Karleigh to get back so we could go back to Joanne's to get the right tulle and while we were there I bought some double pointed needles so I could make some wrist warmers to hide the scratches. I also wrapped them up which just made it seem way more serious than it was since they were too close for bandaids to work right I had to use gauze and ace wrap.

We thankfully didn't finish the playyard yesterday we're supposed to some time today but hopefully I'll be asleep before then.

I also left the access center a review since they only had two. One one star review that was basically my experience and one five star with no description from an account that only gives 5 star reviews and seems like a bot.

Nemo wanted me to call the center for evidence based treatment last night because Google said they closed at 7 but when I called they closed at 5 so I called today instrad and nobody answered so I filled out their online form and I just got the response email from them so I'm going to hopefully get better soon I guess.

Love you always.

[mikeandpsych-blog]

Journal Club and Stress.

Afternoon all, I officially stuck with R. Despite a solid 5 days dedication in the past week, and under 3 weeks till my deadline for its assignment, I have still yet to fully understand what is going on in regard to this aspect of my life. To be completely honest, I am beginning to miss SPSS (which I never thought I would say), and while you are probably getting sick of me complaining about it, I find its existence somewhat like a menstruating female. 

It starts of with the kindest intentions by allowing me to happily get on with life, however, I put my foot slightly out of place and it comes down on me like a sledgehammer, gives me the cold shoulder for a solid 4 hours, and eventually gives me “hints” as to what I have done so wrong! Much like in the case of your other half, 9/10 times I have trivially missed out a fine detail or misplaced something, but for reasons unknown to me, in its eyes Armageddon is upon us! 

So, drawing upon Kolb it would be fair to say I have yet to step out of the reflective observation stage in this weeks torrent of exercises, so I have done the wise thing and given up (at least for the time being). I have to be transparent, this is without any questionable doubt the hardest thing I have ever encountered in my entire educational life, and to say I am struggling is a monumental understatement. 

I mean, even when I do get an output I cant begin to conceptualise it- as I spend so much time stressing over R, I don’t have the time (or the mental strength) to revisit my stats notes related to it. The ONLY thing keeping me sane at the present moment is the knowledge that my thesis is 90 credits and perhaps in the grand scheme of things it wont count so much, oh and beer, lots of beer!

Anyway, in lighter news, as a consequence of giving R the cold shoulder in return, it allowed me to focus on my first assessment of the MRes- which took place on Monday in the form of a journal club. Originally, the thought of sitting for 25 minutes talking about a paper that I know little about did scare me (not as much as R does mind), however, it has to be said I really did enjoy not only the assessment, but the experience as a whole.

In line with my placement in the PEBL lab, I chose a paper by Viren Swami and Martin Tovee which examined the role of resource insecurity either in the form of socio-economic status or hunger (as a proxy) and their impact on males choice of female breast size.

Given this was the first paper I have read and really got my teeth stuck into this year, I thought it would be fitting to explain it and share my thoughts around it (much like I did in the assessment).

So, the paper used two studies to account for cross-cultural differences in breast size preference, and also socioeconomic status.

Rationale

·         It has been suggested that human female breast size may act as a signal of fat reserves, thus indicating access to resources (food).

·         Much research within the ‘attractiveness’ arena has focused on the role of body weight, height, facial, hair colour and other popular variables. However, little attention has been paid to arguably the most significant of all female attractiveness cues....breasts.

·         Those scholars who have investigated the evolutionary benefits of breast size have instead examined their functional roles, specifically breast-feeding and infant nursing.

·         While much work has illuminated the significance of body size choice in relation to hunger, no such study has specifically narrowed its line of enquiry on female breast size, despite the knowledge that the female breast is primarily used as a medium for adipose tissue storage.

·         In line with this, and a recent surge in papers related to attractiveness, the present study focused its approach to examine male’s female breast choice using the proxy of hunger.

Study 1

·         Participants were the same nationality (Malaysian) with different socioeconomic backgrounds (medium for resource security).

·         This was based on the widely cited notion that there are reliable differences in body size judgements between socioeconomic statuses.

·         Used 3 very different areas of the state of Sabah, recruiting participants from varying socioeconomic backgrounds to make up each group (low-village, middle-towns, High- tourism centre).

·         Asked each group to rate which female they found most attractive (not referring to the breasts), with findings showing men in the low group prefer the largest breasts than the medium group, who in turn prefer larger breasts than the higher. Thus, providing further evidence that calorific storage may act as an indicator of male partner preferences and while that in modern day western societies resource insecurity is less of a prominent issue, perhaps our primitive past still seems to be more pertinent than first thought.

Study 2

·         However, due to critics suggesting that the study site of the first study may have impacted upon choice (i.e.individual differences/generality), the scholars used hunger as a proxy (consistent with research in the area) for resource security on men who share the same environment.

·         Following selection procedures (randomised) males were either classified in the hunger group, or the satisfied group and asked to rate the same stimuli as in study 1, in addition to the appetite sensation scale to underline their hunger levels.

·         Results showed that hungry men rated the larger breasts as significantly more attractive than did satisfied men.

Conclusion

Taken together the two studies provide further evidence that breast size may be indicative of access to resources, and particularity how males are able to detect this despite the unnecessary need to do so in modern day western societies. It also adds greater weight to a growing line of enquiry that suggests female breasts not only serve as a cue for attractiveness as many eye-tracking studies have found, but also that they serve as indicators for maturity, sexual readiness,health and now access to resources. 

That said, such work is not without its limitations. While the authors reported many limitations to the study such as the inability to control for individual differences, demand characteristics and the growing understanding that stress may cause hunger, possibly skewing results. The most difficult thing I find impossible to fathom it the theory of the whole situation. 

If one considers the very nature of gene propagation, for centuries males specifically selected those females they perceive to be most suited to a number of evolutionary purposes surrounding the successful production and catering of offspring. So, therefore, surely if breast size was so important and such a good indicator of access to resources then to put it plainly, surely males would have selected those females with larger breasts throughout the process of evolution, and today we would observe a less divergent range of breast size... In fact the whole things got me feeling like this....

So yeah, my head has had a pretty draining, yet compelling week! It is currently academic development week and to think I am 1/4 way through my guided teaching on the MRes is absolutely mad! I’m off to consult the closest Dr on remedies of nervous breakdowns and if there is any medicine that if I can take, or even slip into R’s drink. I’m thinking along the lines of chloroform right now...Hopefully with a dose of that, it might begin to be that bit more benevolent! 

Ill keep you posted! 

Mike