#forgetting directions and struggling to describe things and to remember pieces of music | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction || They Regret A Break up

A/N: Hope this is what you wanted 💜💜💜

Seokjin:

Jin stared down at the photo in his hand, it was of you and him in Paris when he took you on tour with him, back before you broke up...long before you broke up. He ran his thumb over your face in the picture and elt a few of the tears go that were threatening to come out, he'd been putting off coming to the old shared apartment to empty it for so long, he didn't want to go back there without you with him it didn't feel right to be in the shared apartment you'd owned together, packing up his stuff and leaving, but he could tell you'd already been to the apartment. All of your shoes were gone from the porchway, all of your books and collectables were gone from the living room but you'd left all the photos of you together he sighed putting the picture into his box and then going up to the bedroom, stopping when he heard your light snores coming from inside of the door, he debated going downstairs and leaving but something inside of him was telling him to walk inside to see you, even if it was just one last time. He quietly pushed the door open and saw you asleep on the bed, you were clutching his RJ's teddy, and you were covered up by a thick blanket, he smiled walking closer to the bed you looked so peaceful and happy, you had a small smile on your face as you clutched RJ closer to your body you looked better than the last time he saw you. The last time he saw you, you were crying heavily and screaming at one another, neither of you meaning the words flying from your mouth but both of you heated. Namjoon told Jin it was because you'd never fought in the two years you'd been together, only occasionally having small bickers but never a real fight and that the big one had been a long time coming. He placed his hand on your cheek and rubbed his thumb along your cheek, smiling to himself as you shivered in your sleep from his cold hands, whining from the sudden coldness on your cheek, as soon as you began to stir he walked out of the room going down the staircase and trying to act as though he wasn't just in the room with you.

"Jin?" You asked groggily from the top of stairs he looked up at you and tried to stop himself from smiling, you were in nothing but an oversized shirt, shorts and you were still clutching RJ tightly in your arms as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes like a toddler who'd just been woken up from their afternoon nap,

"Are you wearing my shirt?" Is what came out of his mouth instead of, 'You look cute' which is what he wanted to say but stopped himself because it came to him that he wasn't your boyfriend anymore and you weren't his girlfriend anymore. You glanced down at yourself, you'd forgotten you put it on in the first place, you looked down at the floor nervously not wanting to meet his eyes, you had no idea if he still hated you for the fight,

"Yeah, I guess it is." You answered not knowing what to do with yourself now he was standing there in front of you, you'd been waiting for this day for a while, you'd been wanting to see him since the moment he walked out of the door but you couldn't tell him that, he was the one that ended things and left maybe he didn't want you back like you wanted him back.

"You're still staying here? I thought you went to live with your friend." Which was true, you'd gone to live with her after the relationship ended and when you came to pack your stuff up you couldn't leave, you'd been staying there since.

"I came to get my stuff last week...I couldn't bring myself to leave again." You admitted sitting down on the top step and looking at Jin who walked up to join you on the step, sitting next to you and debating if he should take hold of your hand like he used to.

"Can you even remember what we were fighting about?" You questioned not looking Jin in the face, you didn't want to stare at him in case he did remember, you couldn't remember why it started, all you remember is the screaming and then him ending it.

"I--No, actually, No, I can't." He admitted turning to look at you but you were frowning at the floor, he took in your features wanting to stop you from frowning by holding you in his arms,

"I can't either." You admitted glancing up for a second to see him staring at you already,

"Then why don't we-" He stopped himself as he took hold of your hand and interlocked your fingers with his and took a deep breath,

"Why don't we forget this ever happened, a lovers spat." You slowly turned to face him thinking about it, you had missed him more than words would ever be able to describe and you did love him a lot,

"I'd love that Jin." You whispered to him looking at RJ who was sitting next to you on the step, you picked him up and placed him on your lap,

"But can we go to sleep, me and RJ missed you." You mumbled standing up and lifting his arm up so he would follow you into the bedroom. You both fell asleep tucked up in each other's arms, the best night sleep either of you had had in the time you'd been apart.

Yoongi:

After your relationship ended with Yoongi for seemingly no reason, it just ended, you spent the first four months trying to put yourself back together, slowly picking up the pieces of your heart and building yourself back together, it was hard at first...Not having there every day when you woke up, or not waiting for when he came home from the studio but you slowly got used to it, you'd convinced yourself for the first week or two that he was just away on tour and he'd be home soon but once that trick stopped working on your mind and your friends got sick of you dragging yourself around like you'd lost a limb, they decided to make you feel better. They began giving you a 'glow up', which meant they were taking you out every other weekend to find someone else or taking you to spa's to make your feel better, none of it was working and you told them that clubs weren't your thing and that when you were ready to meet someone you would, but that time wasn't now and you didn't want it to be either, you wanted to take your time to get over Yoongi, from that moment you spent your time getting a new job and quitting your old one that was on the same route Yoongi took to the studio, it was how you met. You worked in the small coffee down the road from the studio and he went every morning for the same order so you started drawing hearts on his cup, or little messages to get his attention and in the end, he asked you for your number, a cute love story but now it was a nightmare going to work, praying every day he wouldn't walk in, or one of the others guys would walk in so you quit and moved further into the city so he couldn't just walk in.

"I'm not going on a blind date." You said as you served your friends in the cafe you were now working in, your shift was almost over and they were insisting you go out on a blind date after you finished but you weren't ready for that. You didn't want to do that anyway, blind dates were terrible and always ended badly no matter what.

"Just give him a try, he's funny...We met him outside your old work." You rolled your eyes at them, taking their order to the back and putting it down, ordering yourself something and going to sit back down with them.

"Do you even know his name?" You questioned sitting down at the table, they stared at one another and then at you.

"Well, we didn't get that far..." You blinked at them, they couldn't be serious, could they?

"What did you say to him?" They both stared at one another.

"We showed him your picture, asked if he'd go on a date with you and he said yes. He has your phone number and said he'll text you." You wanted to slap them for being so stupid.

"You gave my number to a stranger? Someone neither of you knows and I don't know?" They nodded not seeing the problem with what they'd done but you did, you saw a huge problem with it, it was a huge invasion of privacy and what if he was some weird internet hacker who would hack into everything with just a cellphone number and your name and picture.

"You're idiots." You grumbled laying your head on the table, your friend started tapping your shoulder you lifted your head from the table and she pointed your head in the direction of the door, standing there was someone who used to work with Yoongi a lot, you recognised him from company parties that Yoongi used to drag you along to.

"That's him, he's coming here." They both left the table and the guy, whose name you still couldn't remember was coming over to the table, smiling at you and holding out his hand for you to shake.

"It's nice to see you again Y/n," You smiled at him and tried not to be rude about asking him his name but he could see you were struggling.

"Kim Chung-ho, It's okay. You used to meet a lot of different people." He joked asking if he could sit down and you nodded to the chair in front of you.

(X)

Yoongi, on the other hand, hadn't been taking the break up well, he'd spent the last four months avoiding everything he could because everything just brought back memories of you, everywhere he turned you were there, but it was the fourth month and he was starting to get back to the real him, he'd been buried in so much work that he'd pretty much written two albums and one solo album on his own with all the feelings he was experiencing and now was going to the coffee shop to get himself a drink, in the past, he'd been sending people to go for him in case you were working but as he got to the door he chickened out, backing down the street and deciding to go further into town was the better option, he didn't want to risk upsetting you or upsetting himself.

He was walking towards the next shop when he saw you sitting in the window in from of Kim Chung-ho one of the producers they'd just fired at BigHit for leaking information to press sources and trying to steal music, he looked at you to see you smiling, the smile you used to have on your face whenever you were with him but that smile wasn't bringing him joy like it used to, it was making him angry, he stormed into the shop and up to your table.

"Why are you with him? he's not good for you." He said to you not even looking in Chung-Ho's direction, you stared up at Yoongi as if it was the first time you were ever seeing him, the feelings from that first text coming flying back to you, the butterflies flying around in your stomach, your heart thumping so fast it could run a marathon and your brain racing for something to say to him.

"Yoongi, I didn't know you and Y/n still saw one another, I was just coming to say hello to her." You frowned looking at the man in front of you.

"You were just quizzing me on him..."

"Trying to find out information to sell to the press, come on Y/n, we're leaving." You didn't even take a minute to think about it, you grabbed your jacket and followed him out of the cafe and down the road, rushing back with him to the studio, as soon as you were both inside that was it, the tension was so thick that you just kissed, your hands going into his hair and his hands making their way to your waist, tugging you as close as possible to him, he didn't want to let go in case you walked out of the studio, and you didn't want to let go in case he broke up with you again, you didn't want the moment to end but at some point, you were both going to have to breathe again.

"You won't leave will you?" He questioned his hands still locked onto your hips as you toyed with his long hair, he'd been growing out since the day you left.

"I won't...You won't throw me out will you?" He shook his head and you smiled, it was like a silent agreement to never speak of the break up ever again.

"You need a haircut." You grumbled playing with the strands in your hair and giggling as he put on a fake pout.

Hoseok:

Looking back on it now it wasn't the best thing to do, but it was the only thing that Hoseok could do in the situation. They were threatening to fire both of you if he didn't finish what he had with you and that was two months ago, in those two months you stopped going to work, you would only go to your group meetings where you'd be in the studio for an hour before leaving to go home to your apartment again. Your manager explained to Hoseok that you didn't want to be in the same building with him...but that's because you didn't know the real reason you and Hoseok broke up, Hoseok told you it's because he didn't love you and never could which was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, all that because he wasn't allowed to tell you the reason, that both yours and his managers were forcing the relationship to a finish.

The first month you spent writing music for your groups' albums and the second month you were catching up on dance practises at home you couldn't go into the BigHit building if Hoseok was going to be there and you knew he was there most days because he was an amazing guy who loved to create music for people.

"You have to come in today, there's no way around it. It's for the company." Your manager said through gritted teeth to you over the phone, she was trying to get you to go in for the company photoshoot. All of the groups and solo artists were going to have photos together and it sounded like a great idea on paper until you realised you would have to be around Hoseok and you still weren't over, hearing his name nevermind seeing his face but you also knew it was go or be fired.

"I'll be there." You mumbled hanging up the phone and going to the car that was waiting for you outside

(X)

You'd been managing to avoid Hoseok all day, neither of your shots was close together until the end of the day but the end of the day was coming up quicker than you wanted it to, you started to feel sick at the thought of seeing him again. The last time you saw him he was telling you about how he could never love you, how he was ending the relationship because he didn't want to hurt you further down the line, not knowing he was crushing your heart right there in the moment.

"Y/n!" You heard Jungkook scream before you were picked up and span around in the air by the youngest member, you giggled as he placed you back down on the ground, you threw your arms around him to greet him.

"I've missed you Kookie." You said to him pulling away to see Hoseok standing behind him, you felt your heartbreak as he looked you up and down. You straightened the outfit out as Jungkook spoke to you about what he'd been up to since the last time he saw you, you'd always been really close with him even before you were dating Hoseok.

"Are you listening- Oh you're looking at Hobi-Hyung." You stared down at the floor feeling tears rushing to your eyes as you shook your head,

"No, sorry Kookie. Please keep going, I'm just a little tired." You lied as you felt eyes on you, you knew it was Hoseok who was watching you interact with the Maknae.

"He's missed you," Jungkook whispered so that only you could hear him now, you stared at Jungkook and he nodded.

"I heard him talking with Joonie-Hyung about how he never wanted to break up with you...I shouldn't be telling you this but the managers made him, threatened both of your jobs." Before Jungkook could continue Namjoon yelled him back over to them and your group was shouting you over, you sent a soft smile to Hoseok who was staring at you and you went to go over to your friends. You next shoot was with BTS, and you were going to have to be close to Hoseok and the other members.

(X)

The shot was over and you were looking around the makeup room for your phone, you could have sworn you left it in there but it was like it had grown legs and walked away on its own.

"Want some help?" You looked up to see Hoseok and instead of denying it you just accepted his help and you both started looking around. Finding it under the main sofa, Hoseok lifted the sofa up while you kicked your phone out from underneath.

"Kookie told me why you really did it..." You said as he went to leave the room again, he turned to look at you and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"They said I couldn't tell you the real reason." You nodded, you knew that whatever the managers or higher up said was like gospel and there was no going against it, you both stood there awkwardly for a couple of seconds before Hobi finally spoke up.

"Wanna, like- I mean if you're not busy...We could go and get coffee, as friends." You nodded at him, it was going to be hard being around him as just friends but having him in your life as a friend was better than not having him in your life at all.

"I'd love that Hobi."

Namjoon:

The day had come to meet up with Namjoon to give him all of his things back, you'd both been avoiding facing each other since the relationship ended. It ended in a heated argument that you couldn't remember how started, or who started it but you remembered how it ended. It ended with Namjoon telling you it would be better to end the relationship and with you walking out of the apartment at 3 am and showing up on your best friends door with nothing but Namjoon's shirt you were wearing and some shorts, she took you back the next day when he was at work to get your things without having another fight or getting upset again. Namjoon came home that night half-expecting to see you sitting on the sofa curled up with Koya but when he got in from work and half of your wardrobe was missing he was disappointed and upset when he realised you were gone but he also knew you were going to be back for more of your stuff and was going to have to pack it all up for you, so he spent all his time finding your things and boxing them up for you.

(X)

"Just go, it won't kill you." Your friend said as she rushed around her apartment, she was supposed to be going with you to your old apartment to see Namjoon but now she was telling you she had to work an extra shift and you were going to have to go alone.

"It might." You tried to convince her but it wasn't going to work because she was already out of the door and in her car, so you were left to getting ready and taking yourself to go and see him.

(X)

You were both standing awkwardly in the living room of your once shared apartment, Namjoon was a mess his hair was pushed backwards and greasy, he was wearing a tank top and sweatpants but even then he still looked good, you were in sweatpants and the shirt you walked out in, your hair was up in a messy bun and you hadn't worn makeup in three weeks.

"You look good--" He stopped as he saw you crying, he didn't know if he was supposed to drag you into a hug or leave you to cry.

"I look like shit." You said through your tears, a small laugh coming through at the thought of him thinking you looked good but Namjoon, always thought you looked good no matter what you were wearing or looked like. You were his girl and you always looked great to him.

"You always look good, except when you're crying." He mumbled running his thumb under your eye to wipe the tears away from your face, you sniffled and snuggled into his hand having his touch on you felt good again. You'd missed him so much in the time you'd been away, it wasn't like when he was away on tour because when he was away you can call him, text him and video chat with him but when you were broken up you couldn't do all of those things.

"Is it wrong if I say I miss you?" You mumbled to him, he dropped his hand from your face to his side and sighed, sitting on the sofa and patting the space next to him.

"I miss you too." He mumbled as you sat down on the sofa, far away from him but still close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"You know- I can still remember practising how to ask you out in the mirror." He chuckled to himself causing you to let out a giggle, seeing his smile made your stomach flip and your world light up.

"I remember when you asked me, I got home and screamed into my pillow like a teenage girl." He chuckled and turned to look at you, both of your staring back at one another.

"Do we have to stay broken up?" You questioned eyes not tearing away from his for even a second, you didn't want to in case it was the last time you were ever going to see him again.

"Not if you don't want to..."

"I don't want to. I want to wake up to you snoring every morning, or coming in late from work and waking me up cause I've taken over the bed." You admitted edging yourself closer to him on the sofa.

"I want that too baby." He admitted pulling you onto his lap and staring into your eyes.

"I promise next time we fight over something stupid, I'll never walk out." He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your nose.

"I promise to never fight over something stupid." You hummed and laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he patted your back, humming softly to you.

Jimin:

Why of all days did you have to go into the BigHit building today to get your stuff, you were going to see Jungkook who was meeting you with all of your clothes from Jimin's apartment, he promised you Jimin wasn't going to be there and that he was going to be at a shooting all day but as soon as you walked into the building Jimin was there, you put your hood up as you waited for the elevator with him, looking around for something to distract yourself with. How did he look that good despite you both break up less than a week ago, he was dressed in a suit, his hair slicked back and he looked like he'd slept better than other. You, on the other hand, were dress in a hoodie, sweatpants and looked like you'd not slept in over a year even though it had only been a week of broken sleep, you stepped inside the elevator and Jimin followed you inside, he must not have noticed it was you unless he did and he was choosing to ignore you. Three more floors and you were off the hook, you would be out of the elevator and going to see Jungkook and then you could leave, three more floors and your personal hell would be over in no time.

Two more floors- Okay...Why was the lift shaking and light flickering, you stumbled backwards against the wall as the lift came to an abrupt stop, your hood flew off and you were clutching onto the railing. Jimin turned to look at you before turning back to the buttons and then back at you,

"Y/n?" You hummed as you clutched onto the railing trying to calm your breathing down, you'd never been good at being in small confined spaces.

"Yeah, it's me." He quickly pushed the alarm button picking up the small phone that was inside and waited for someone to answer,

"Hi yeah, We're stuck in the lift...Yeah, it's me and my friend, right, Okay...Yes...Thank you." He hung up and turned around, dropping to his knees in front of you and trying to calm you down, he knew you hated being stuck somewhere and you were going to need help through this.

"It looks like we'll be trapped for a while, so just breathe okay, we'll get you through this." He repeated, sitting you down on the floor and trying to help you breathe.

"C-Can I hold your hand?" He shook his head, sitting back against the wall and spreading his legs for you to sit in between them, he wrapped his arms around you as he took deep breathes with you trying to calm you down.

(X)

"You feeling better?" You hummed laying your head back against his shoulder, too tired to move away from him.

"Should we talk?" He questioned as he fiddled with your fingers, you raised an eyebrow at home.

"What about?"

"The breakup."

"We talked about it." You answered trying to move away from him now but his grip tightened on you and you sighed, too tired from the panic attack to fight him.

"We didn't, we fought. I ended things because I was an idiot and didn't realise what I had until it was gone." He admitted,

"Jungkook told me you were coming today so I knew I had to come and see you, I had to try and make things up to you." You were frozen in his arms, did he mean everything he was saying.

"I want you back...If you'll take me back that is?" You looked at him and the elevator jolted into action so you stood up from the floor, holding your hand out for him to take and stand up with.

"Jimin are you sure...You're not just going to get bored and ditch me again?" He shook his head and kept your hands locked together, both of you lost in each other's eyes you hadn't noticed the door opening and Jungkook standing here.

"My plan worked then." You both slowly turned to look at him with a glare on your faces.

"You trapped her in there?!" Jimin yelled feeling angry with the Maknae but he didn't know you were scared of tight spaces.

"Jimin, it's okay...He didn't know." You defended trying to get him to calm down but he was red in the face, you touched his arm and you saw him physically relax instantly.

"I'm sorry Y/n." You shook your head at Jungkook and he ran off down the hall while you took Jimin to an empty studio to calm him down.

Taehyung:

You and Tae had a clean and easy breakup, you both decided it was better for the both of you if you went your separate ways, not that either of you wanted to, you were both madly in love with one another but that was the reason it had to end. You'd been dating behind Jin, your older brother's back and it felt wrong to hide it but you knew Jin would never approve of the relationship so it was better to end it, then more people get hurt because of it and tonight was the first time you would be seeing Taehyung since it ended three weeks ago, Jin had invited you over to stay with him while you apartment was being renovated and you couldn't say no because he would ask why you'd rather spend time alone in a hotel rather than spending time with the best brother in the world, his words not yours.

You'd spent most of the day hiding away in Jin's room, binging movies together and then cooking dinner for everyone but it was getting late and you knew it was time to go to sleep, Jin was taking the sofa and giving you his bed which meant when the thundering started and the lightning flashed you were alone in his room, clutching onto the TaTae stuffed animal you'd had since before you dated and broke up with Tae.

"It's just bad weather." You reminded yourself, closing your eyes and trying to drift off to sleep, putting some earphones in and turning on one of the boys' playlists to fall asleep too, drowning out the storm that was raging on outside.

(X)

Tae had spent the day trying to avoid you, he didn't want to get in your way, you were still friends but it hurt to be near you and not be able to hold you all night. He laid awake in the storm, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about everything you'd done that day, the way you looked when you showed up on the doorstep, the way you looked when you were cooking with Jin and the way you looked standing at the foot of his bed with TaTa in your hands...The way you looked at the bottom of his bed?! He shot up in the bed and stared at you, you'd been crying and you were clutching onto TaTa as if he was going to run off.

"I had a nightmare...Can I stay with you tonight?" He said nothing, only moved over in the bed and laid back down when you laid beside him, neither of you said anything but you jumped when you heard the thunderclap and Tae's instincts took over, he cradled you in his arms as he spooned you, holding you tightly as a reminder that he was there and wasn't going to go anywhere. You could feel his heart rate and you were sure he could feel yours beating just as fast as his was, neither of you were going to be sleeping it was obvious, you couldn't stop your mind from racing about him holding you again.

"Do you think we could ever make it work?" You whispered to him as you tried to stop shaking from the fear of the thunder.

"Make us work?" He questioned wanting to make sure you were on the same page about what you were talking about.

"Yeah." He sighed and rested his head against your shoulder,

"What about your brother?" You grumbled something in response that he didn't understand and you sighed turning over in his arms so you were face to face with him.

"What about him? I love you Tae, I knew I loved you from the moment I saw you and asked Jin your name...I knew I loved you when we broke up but I can't let Jin come between us...If we make each other happy Jin will see that and understand that." You whispered to him, Tae looked down at you and jumped as the thunder clapped again scaring both of you when you heard Jin standing in the doorway.

"Jin does know how happy you were." You jumped out of Tae's arms and sat up in the bed staring at your brother.

"You knew?" You questioned glancing to and from Tae who looked just as confused as you about Jin knowing about you both.

"Of course, you think you could hide something like that from me. I knew Tae was sneaking off to your apartment when he was 'at the studio'." He chuckled to you,

"We broke up and you didn't say anything?" You questioned him,

"I knew it wouldn't last long, knew there was a storm tonight so knew you'd go running to him." You glared at your brother as he walked out of the room leaving you and Taehyung alone to talk everything through.

"Shall we..."

"Get back together?" He finished for you, holding your hand causing you to smile brightly before leaning over and giving him a kiss on the lips.

Jungkook:

You'd gotten the tickets to the party when you were still together with Jungkook, it was Namjoon's birthday party and you didn't want to be rude by not going to see him on his birthday so you decided to pull on your big boy pants and go to see him since he was one of your close friends when you were dating Jungkook and it wasn't going to change just because you and Jungkook broke up. You'd only broken up a couple of weeks ago and the wound was still fresh but you weren't going to let that stop you seeing Namjoon, you'd gone out to get a new dress and decided you were going try and put on a front that you were fine when you weren't. You hadn't handled the breakup well, you'd stopped bothering to try and make an effort, and you let yourself go.

Jungkook was a mess too, as soon as he ended the relationship he hated himself for it, he did it because he was being a jealous idiot over something that was going through his mind. He'd seen you hanging around Kai from TXT more and more while he was busy with other things and he somehow got it into his head that you were going to leave him for Kai, and started getting overprotective of you. Stopping you from seeing him unless he was next to you, and stopping you from going to see him on your own, which caused a huge fight between you and the eventual split of you both came and you walked out wishing you hadn't and he cried over the fact that he was as jealous as he was over nothing.

(X)

You walked through the packed out venue and tried to find Namjoon, you'd arrived an hour ago and couldn't find him anywhere, he'd text you telling you he was by the front but you still couldn't see him.

"Y/n?! I didn't expect to see you here!" Kai called when he saw you struggling to look around the room, you embraced him in a hug.

"Yeah I came to see Joonie, have you seen him?" He nodded and pointed over at the DJ booth and you saw him standing there with Jin, you thanked Kai and continued walking through the crowd, finding Namjoon and giving him and hug and handing him the bag with his gifts on.

"They're from me and Jungkook...We got them before we...We broke up." You said trying to act as though you weren't bothered but Namjoon could tell you were, Namjoon could read anyone like a book.

"It's okay, thank you for coming." He hugged you again and then you hugged Jin who was shouting over the music to you about how Jungkook wasn't there yet so you could relax, but you couldn't you were on edge in case he just showed up...It excited you and scared you all at the same time about the thought of him coming up and seeing you but you tried to ignore the feelings, telling Namjoon that you were going to get something to eat.

(X)

"Kai where's the bathroom?" You questioned later that night as soon as you spotted Jungkook from across the room, Kai told you the directions to the women's toilets and you went on the hunt, trying to get out of the hall before Jungkook spotted you.

"Excuse me, sorry." You said to some people at the doors, pushing yourself into the hallway and trying to calm yourself down, nothing had even happened but seeing him there brought all of the feelings crashing back. How was it fair that he got to look so good after a breakup while you looked like you'd been hit by a bus?

"Y/n?" You turned to see him walking towards you, the hall was too crowded to make a run for it so you plastered this biggest fake smile you could manage and turning around to face him.

"Jungkook." You said with a smile, hugging him back as he brought you into his arms, squeezing you tightly.

"You looked amazing in there,"

"You saw me?" You questioned looking back through the doors at the crowded room,

"When don't I see you? You could be in a room full of a million people, you will be all I see." You shook your head at him.

"No...Don't do that Jungkook, don't try and act cute." You pleaded moving away from his arms and going over to some seats in the hall, he couldn't do that, he did this to your relationship, he broke it.

"I was an idiot Y/n, a jealous idiot...I was worried about something I shouldn't have been. I trust you, I've always trusted you but I was just worried about you leaving me for someone who could treat you better." You stared at him, the last time you talked about this it involved screaming at one another about how he couldn't trust you, and how he thought you were trying to leave him.

"I love you though Kookie...Kai is like a little brother to me, not a boyfriend. No one could ever treat me better because you treat me better than I deserve," You told him, he stared up at you and then over at the packed out venue room,

"Let's ditch, I'll tell Joonie I was here and he'll understand. We can go on a date, make up for everything...Cuddle on the sofa, I'll do anything Y/n, just take me back." You stared at him, he was tearing up and you knew in your heart you couldn't say no to him, he was the love of your life and it was a silly break up.

"Let's go say bye to Joonie and then go home, these heels are my worst nightmare." You giggled taking his hand and standing up, he bent down to kiss you before walking into the hall together, passing Kai and sending him a shy smile and then going to find the birthday boy.

tagline

@yourguessisasgoodasminemate @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @btsiguess-kpop

708 notes · View notes

dweemeister · 3 years

Photo

Best Documentary Short Film Nominees for the 93rd Academy Awards (2021, listed in order of appearance in the shorts package)

NOTE: For viewers in the United States (continental U.S., Alaska, and Hawai’i) who would like to watch the Oscar-nominated short film packages, click here. For virtual cinemas, you can purchase the packages individually or all three at once. You can find info about reopened theaters that are playing the packages in that link. Because moviegoing carries risks at this time, please remember to follow health and safety guidelines as outlined by your local, regional, and national health guidelines.

A Love Song for Latasha (2019)

On March 16, 1991, Latasha Harlins, a 15-year-old African-American girl, was murdered by Soon Ja Du at Du’s convenience store in Los Angeles. The murder, which occurred almost two weeks after Rodney King’s beating at the hands of the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD), contributed to the start of the 1992 LA riots one year later. Directed by Sophia Nahli Allison, A Love Song for Latasha is an avant grade film that intercuts statements by Latasha’s friends and family about the young girl they cared deeply for. Alongside reenacted scenes of childhood, of black girls frolicking on the Californian coastline and the streets of Los Angeles, the film serves as an intimate eulogy for Latasha – one delivered as memories about her become less immediate.

Whatever justified rage the Los Angeles rioters might have felt in 1992 is not the dominant force in Allison’s film. A Love Song for Latasha is foremost a cinematic lament rather than a political polemic. With the reenacted scenes edited and appearing as if it resembling a home movie, this piece appears like a visualization of the memories that the interviewees are recalling. When Latasha was murdered, she ceased to be just a daughter or a friend. A Love Song for Latasha, thirty years on, seeks to reclaim those distinctions for those who knew her best – something, given the significance of Latasha’s murder in history, that may never happen.

My rating: 6.5/10

Do Not Split (2020, Norway)

From Norwegian documentarian-journalist Anders Hammer comes Do Not Split, a street-level glimpse into the protests against the 2019 Extradition Law Amendment Bill (ELAB) that inspired the passage of the 2020 Hong Kong national security law. The events depicted in Hammer’s film include the Hong Kong police’s sieges of the Chinese University of Hong Kong (CUHK) and Hong Kong Polytechnic University, in addition to small-scale clashes between protesters and police, as well as mainland Chinese instigating confrontations. Hammer’s footage is harrowing material, a collection of violent imagery with few moments of individual revelation or introspection outside of the presence of Michigan-born activist Joey Siu. Do Not Split decides not to attempt a dialectic of why the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and the Hong Kong Legislative Council (LegCo) are pursuing these changes and are brutalizing the protesters, depriving this film of the context that less knowledgeable viewers might need. For those who have been keeping at least superficially aware of events in Hong Kong, there is never any question on which side Hammer is on – despite Hammer’s journalistic background, this is not a piece of objective journalism.

Yet this is not agitprop due to the politics left mostly unexplained, and none of Do Not Split’s flaws take away from the rawness of the protesters’ desperation and the cynicism of the police and government officials enacting the crackdown. Despite the repetitive nature of the footage by the time it reaches the final stages of its thirty-five-minute runtime, Do Not Split contains excellent, crisp hand-held footage that makes immediate sense of the space and time of the depicted violence.

My rating: 8/10

Hunger Ward (2020)

For Pluto TV (some cord-cutting television service I was not familiar with until I started writing this) and MTV Films and directed by Skye Fitzgerald (2018 Oscar-nominated short film Lifeboat), Hunger Ward follows doctor Aida Al-sadeeq and nurse Mekkia Mahdi as they treat malnourished children in the midst of ongoing the Yemeni famine. The famine, directly related to the civil war that began in late 2014, has seen almost a hundred thousand children die in what UNICEF describes as, “the largest humanitarian crisis in the world.” Fitzgerald film works best when focusing on Al-sadeeq and Mahdi, as they describe the heartbreak conditions of the hunger ward and their experiences since the famine began. However, much of Hunger Ward’s footage is too in-your-face with footage of the mothers’ grieving and the last moments of several children. It appears almost as if gawking at the desperation and death that occurs every day in this hospital.

This is not to say that there is no revelation in the image of a child with their eyes glazed in lifelessness or the unearthly wails of a mother overtaken by grief. Fitzgerald edits and shoots their film in a way that makes this process – a child in their last moments of care, a declaration of death, a shot of the child’s corpse, a cut to the mother inside or arriving to the deathbed, and the echoing despair – occur tediously in their movie. Hunger Ward never breaks from this tedious formula. The film is redeemed only by withholding its slings and arrows until some text prior to the end credits, correctly assigning responsibility with Western nations that have enabled and abetted the violence in Yemen.

My rating: 6/10

Colette (2020)

Colette Marin-Catherine is in her twilight years and, upon first appearances, one might not predict the incredible life story that she has to tell. She was a French Resistance member, and French Resistance narratives tend to be sidelined in favor of those depicting Allied soldiers liberating France instead. But Anthony Giacchino’s (the brother of composer Michael Giacchino) film, distributed by British newspaper The Guardian and made for an extra feature of the virtual reality (VR) video game Medal of Honor: Above and Beyond, decides to linger on the memories of Colette’s murdered brother, who died at Mittelbau-Dora concentration camp in Germany, instead. At the urging and with the assistance of the young historian Lucie Fouble, who is interested in telling Colette’s story (although technically this is not Colette’s story), Colette travels to Germany to visit the site of Mittelbau-Dora so that Colette can… spill out her feelings?

It is self-evident that Colette does not see the academic or personal value of such a trip, but the irascible subject of this short film will nevertheless humor Fouble – her intentions genuine, her approach questionable. Colette, who cannot forget the loss of brother but has not been dwelling on his death, is emotionally vulnerable throughout the trip to Germany, and the audience learns little about Colette, German atrocities, or her brother. Even in these moments, she remains a compelling figure on-screen, but this movie is a disservice to its eponymous subject – one who deserves more credit as a member of the French Resistance, as someone not defined by the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

My rating: 6/10

A Concerto Is a Conversation (2020)

Distributed by The New York Times and executive produced by Ava DuVernay, Ben Proudfoot and Kris Bower direct a deeply personal documentary short film to bookend this slate of five. A Concerto Is a Conversation contains a conversation between Kris Bowers (composer on 2018’s Green Book and 2021’s The United States vs. Billie Holiday) and his grandfather, Horace Bowers Sr., before the premiere of Bower’s concerto at the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles. What follows is a disjointed film with sketches of Jim Crow-era America from Horace’s past to the anxiety-laden self-questioning of Kris’ present. Kris, as a black man, is questioning his place in the classical music world – which has, justifiably in some ways, been seen as staid and white. If A Concerto Is Not a Conversation can bridge the differences between Horace and Kris’ stories, it barely does so thank to the scattershot editing.

Yet Kris and Horace’s conversation is wholesome, admiring, loving. This is Kris’ way to show his appreciation for his grandfather and the struggles that he endured for most of his life. The out-of-focus background makes A Concerto Is Not a Conversation seem almost like a dream, a meeting that almost should not be happening. And in honoring Kris’ profession and the piece that is set to debut, the film is divided into noticeable thirds – just like a concerto’s three movements. A Concerto Is Not a Conversation might not make for the most cohesive viewing, but it is a celebration of a profound bond, tied together by forces that defy even the most eloquent words: music and love.

My rating: 6.5/10

^ All ratings based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

From previous years: 88th Academy Awards (2016), 89th (2017), 90th (2018), 91st (2019) and 92nd (2020).

15 notes · View notes

decretum565 · 3 years

Text

Dear Madoka Magica,

I didn’t really know how to write this letter, as my feelings towards you are too passionate and complex to simply describe in words. You’ve been such an influence on me in so many different regards, and I guess I’m going to attempt to explain how. I first discovered you a couple years back, when you made a top ten list that popped up in my YouTube recommendations. Naturally, it was THE scene that everyone knows was on there, and I was speechless. My reaction was akin to “D-Did she just—Her head—Did she . . .” And you get the idea. That’s where it began, but it didn’t end there.

So I looked into the show a bit more, and there was something disturbingly fascinating about it. I’ve never cared very much about spoilers, but even so I barely understood all of the plot details. Something about you was so mysterious, and I was a bit nervous to discover more. Eventually, I stopped looking for information, as my interests shifted to other things. But I never actually forgot about you.

Fast forward about two years, and I sit down and think about what anime I should watch. I wasn’t very deep into the rabbit hole at the time, and all of a sudden you crossed my mind. I tried to consider other options but you stuck out to me, Madoka Magica.

And so I watched all twelve episodes. I cried six times.

I’m absolutely serious. I adored you from start to finish. As soon as I was able to, I watched Rebellion, and thoroughly enjoyed it as well (though not as much as I do now). I was obsessed, to put it likely. A year later, I rewatched you, and had an even greater appreciation and the spark rekindled. I tracked down fan-art, fan-fiction, analysis videos and internet posts . . . I loved you.

I loved your narrative. The way that everything pieced together, how you were able to be so complex and dark and yet still so hopeful. The way some scenes were directed and written blew my mind, and every episode felt like three minutes instead of twenty-three. I loved the twists and turns you would take me through, as if I was in an actual Labyrinth. I loved your pacing and symbolism and everything in between. I loved your dialogue, with philosophical conversations that felt believable and analytical and just so incredible.

I loved your characters, so, so much. Madoka and Sayaka were two characters that have many aspects I deeply identify with, and even so I still adore them. I was reminded of younger me with Madoka, how inadequate she felt and awkward she was. Sayaka is still one of my favorite characters in media. She had so many layers to her, with her depression and rambunctiousness, optimism and nihilism, just everything about her was incredible. I loved Kyoko to the same amount as Sayaka. Her introduction scene was fantastic, and she just kept getting more and more complex as time went on, leading to one of the most heartbreaking outcomes with her and Sayaka in episode nine. She had such a personality, and her dynamics with the other characters were a lot of fun to watch. I loved Mami, and her desire for companionship, which added so much background to how she responds to others, how she trusts others until they interfere, and one small mistake can cost her dearly. I loved Homura, how she never gave up, never stopped fighting. How she wasn’t all good or all bad, just traumatized and detached to a scary degree. I loved how you thought of her as strange, scary, mysterious, and then the truth is revealed and everything you thought you knew is recontextualized. And, yes, I loved to hate Kyubey. He’s one of my favorite antagonists for a reason.

I loved the art, the animation, the design and the style. How one moment you could be in a normal anime setting, and then use horrific imagery in the Labyrinth scenes. I loved how they differed from one another, based on themes and strategy and tragedy that you can theorize about infinitely. I loved your music. Yuki Kajiura’s soundtrack gave such emotion and beauty to the series, and I can’t even list all of the tracks that I adore (Also sorry for misspelling, I tried). Serena Ira, Decretum, Conturbatio, Symposium Magarum, Absolute Configuration, Confessio, Sagitta Luminis, Innevitabilis, Puella in Somnio, Incertus, Encounter, Mada Dame Yo, Credens Justitiam, Venari Strigas, Nuquam Vincar, Surgam Identidem, Salva Terrae Magicae, Pugna Infintia, and so, so many more. And, of course, who can forget Sis Puella Magica! ClariS and Sho Watanabe, I loved Connect, Luminous, and Colorful. And Yuki Kajiura and Kalafina, I loved Magia, Mirai, Hikari Furu, Misterioso, and Kimi no Gin no Niwa. They were all so incredible and I will always love them to bits.

And, finally, I loved your ending. I loved the hope, the bittersweet nature, all of you. How you inspired me to keep going, keep fighting through my own struggles, just to make it to another day. To manage to keep moving forward, no matter the hardships that might come. It was absolutely beautiful.

To say that you have changed my life seems like an understatement. I wouldn’t have the same taste in anime without you, let alone characters and movies and novels. I wouldn’t have played Magia Record or immersed myself in the fandom before it shut down. I wouldn’t have found Yuki Kajiura, who is without a doubt my favorite musical artist and composer ever. I wouldn’t be who I am today without you.

It’s been ten wild years since you first aired, and a lot has changed. Politics, Anime, Literature, Music, just everything keeps going around and around without any end in sight. Some changes have been good, some have been bad, but you’ve survived and been remembered by quite a lot of people. Madoka Magica, you once told all of us that as long as we remember her, the one fighting for us, that we were not alone. That there was a light at the end of the tunnel. And with all of that said, I’ll end with this: Thank You, Madoka Magica. Thank you with all of my heart.

—Decretum

#madoka kaname #homura akemi #mami tomoe #sayaka miki #kyoko sakura #madoka magica #yuki kajiura #puella magi #Madoka Tenth Anniversary #magia record

24 notes · View notes

kiruuuuu · 4 years

Text

Doc/Lion oneshot in which Lion suffers from the consequences of being tortured. (Rating M, hella angst + some comfort, ~3.3k words) - written for @renegad3spectre! Thank you a ton for commissioning me, I really really enjoyed this prompt, just took it and ran with it. It was a pleasure, all the love to you 🧡🧡🧡

Horrifically, it’s his grandfather delivering the blows.

He’s got fond memories of him, of sweets smuggled into his pocket, repeated stories ever-changing from one retelling to the next, quiet banter loud enough for him to hear but muffled enough that he suppressed his own laughter. He smelled of books and wood and old people, and that must’ve been it – the building had held a heavy, stale air which probably triggered the association, unwanted as it is.

So now the creature in his head, the remnant, the ghost haunting his mind wears his grandpa’s face like it owned it, like it had absolutely any right. It hurts more this way. It hurts to be called a disgrace, worthless, useless. It hurts to be disowned, it hurts to hear I have no grandson and it hurts to be accused of killing them, you killed them, your hand held the scalpel and this particular voice coming from his grandfather’s mouth is even more disturbing.

Who do you work for, he yells, unforgiving, merciless, and now his features shift, skin discolouring and eyes sinking into their holes to make way for nothing but darkness, and soon it’s the familiar sight of a brutal, faceless monster, concealed by a mask, surrounded by others looking exactly like him, supported by clones. Where are they, they scream at him in unison, who else. And he wants to answer, wants so desperately to reply to make it stop, is willing to give up anything, everything, if only it means this unbearable noise in his head quiets down. But his thoughts are made of tar, spread slowly and directionless, impossible to wade through. Words elude him, fade like smoke whenever he attempts to grasp them, endeavours to put this horrendous suffering into a single sentence.

Not like any expression he knows would be sufficient to describe this torture.

He doesn’t know what’s real. At times, he’s losing himself in a loud beat and a steaming crowd, coloured lights sweeping overhead and music seeping into his bones, and he knows he needs to reunite with his friends to keep partying, keep the night alive. It’s convincing enough he can taste the cheap drinks in his throat and feels naked, sweaty arms brush over his own on the dance floor – and the next second a blinding light pierces his skull and there are too many people around him he doesn’t know. They sound alarmed, eyes wide, and it sparks an instant, shrieking panic: something is wrong and he has no idea what it is. The strangers refuse to let him go, hold him down, and he tries to explain while the sterile stench they exude causes his stomach to churn and turn.

Most of the time, his ears are filled with accusations. The source is constantly evolving but what stays is the nauseating sense of dread. His heart races against the rest of his bodily functions and easily wins every time since his senses are sluggish, his perception unreliable and his thoughts wrapped in cotton. Grimaces of fury are persistent companions, and though he can’t put a name to all of them, their familiarity cuts deep. His mother, his former friends, his father, his sister. Alexis. Claire. The guy he met in Marseille who pretended to be his friend. Doc. Thatcher. An abomination from that cursed city Lion tries so hard to forget. Doc. The masked entity, omniscient, omnipotent, terrifying. Alexis. Doc.

He understands.

Why people would betray their loved ones, their country, their morals – he understands now, and the realisation is as chilling as the experience. He begged to be able to tell them. Begged for his life, begged for his life to be taken. Begged for peace as opposed to the chaos inside him, and he knows now most people have no idea what chaos really means. They humanise it, award it positive or negative qualities yet Lion would tell them it’s neither malevolent nor merciful. It just is. Against it, he is nothing, smaller than a speck of dust, utterly inconsequential and unimportant: in the face of true chaos, he’s meaningless. All he can do is hope he survives it.

The room is empty, his eyes tell him, and his ears tell him the same, but his brain is convinced of someone’s presence, just out of sight. Pitiful noises fill the barren, bleak chamber and they come from him, but at least they summon another human. A human with Doc’s face, and then with a mask, and then it’s Doc’s face again. Lion buries his fingernails so deep into his arm he tastes copper on his lips and pleads for him to stay. He sounds like a broken record, this voice isn’t his, the syllables barely intelligible among the dry heaving and the sobs. Music starts playing, a loud riff reminiscent of his teenager years, signifying rebellion and freedom and the worst fucking period of his entire life, and Doc says your hand held the scalpel and he’s gone again.

More, he implored as if anything he said would sway them, yes, please. And he looked at the needle and hated it, despised himself for craving it like this, abhorred the ones who turned him into this, and simultaneously he needed. He needed it so much. Without it, he was broken.

His throat is hoarse from screaming, so the visions morphed from atrocious to tragic until he had no more tears left to cry, and then they went for the very core of him. And this, too, he understands now: why anyone would go above God and decide existence isn’t worth it anymore. If he’s being tested, he’ll gladly fail as long as it means silence. If he’s being punished, he’s ready to receive eternal punishment for it can’t be any worse than this.

Someone is calling his name. The man – the men – knew it because he told them, it was one of the many things he told them, so he fights tooth and nail to continue drifting in this vegetative state, but it grows ever more insistent and strips away the layers of mud obstructing his consciousness, leaving him no choice. He can’t remember what it’s like, to have a choice, to choose.

Long words are being thrown at him. He deciphers none and yet an image forms below his eyelids, less blurry with every new description. The professional tone of voice pushes him gently back to his days of studying, a time filled with diligence and the hope to make a difference, and his despairing brain latches on to the information like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood.

Delirium, the familiar voice lists, agitation, seizures, anxiety, hallucinations. Too many syllables to fully absorb, and still he deconstructs them halfway. The mask wouldn’t know them. And if it did, it wouldn’t use them around him.

He’s safe.

He must be, it’s the only valid conclusion, but why does his existence still hurt this much? Why is the world shaking, why is he slowly drifting away from everything he ever held dear, from his life, this earth, himself?

They have Alexis. The realisation jolts through him like an electric shock. He needs to rescue him somehow, together with the people by his side, yet he can’t shoot at the maniacally cackling crowd running away from him because he’s not sure which one of them has him, and he can’t risk hitting his own son. Risk harming his most important footprint on this world. The masked grimace tells him he’ll be too late, and besides, it was his own fault anyway: Lion willingly told them about Alexis’ whereabouts in exchange for his next fix.

And he did do that. He did that. These are the consequences of his own actions, his punishment for complying with minimal resistance instead of staying strong, remembering his training. He sacrificed his son for something this trivial. Offered him up in exchange for complacency. Put himself first.

People are screaming, Claire, his colleagues, his family, and he knows he must interfere if his life is meant to be worth anything anymore, and there’s a small voice inside his head, an old companion. Full of vitriol, pulling at threads to make him come undone, scratching at scabs to cause scars, widening holes so he’s incomplete. It suggests a scenario and with petrifying speed, he’s there to live it.

He has a choice. On the one side is his son, gagged, tears in his eyes, struggling against his restraints. On the other side is –

There’s a –

It’s a syringe.

“-s alright. You’re alright. Take a breath, Flament. You’re safe, you have nothing to worry about. Do you need to throw up?”

Paying no attention to the words, Lion is flailing, sitting up abruptly and touching his legs to check whether they’re still there, touches his face and feels blind panic flare up the moment he spots the object in the crook of his arm. He’s narrowly stopped from ripping it out by an iron grip against which he struggles wildly, demanding to be let go, knocking something over and shattering it.

The vice-like grip never once wavers, and gradually his surroundings begin to sink in. He’s in a hospital, it seems, and the person by his side is none other than Doc, trusty (your hand held the scalpel) Doc who’d never let a patient suffer more than absolutely necessary. Bleeding heart Doc. Doc with his stoic face which barely contains the rage undoubtedly roaring in his chest (and is it directed at Lion?).

From one second to the next, Lion deflates and sinks back into the pillows, thoroughly fatigued. His adrenaline wears off quickly and makes way for uncomfortable nausea and the sensation of itching limbs. He needs to move, needs to shake off this horrible feeling of having slept a decade, but he doesn’t trust his body. The hand finally lets go of his wrist and leaves behind a print even lighter than Lion’s skin already is.

“Alexis is safe, too”, Doc assures him.

Lion jumps at this. How does he know? His throat closes and opens, produces a dry rasp and forces him to cough. Next to him, Doc is waiting patiently. “Where is he?”, Lion eventually gets out.

“At home. He never left.” He sounds composed despite the storm clouds visible in his expression, so Lion isn’t the intended recipient of his cold fury. “You kept calling for him, so I figured you must be worried. But there’s no need for concern.”

“What happened?”

Doc pauses for a few seconds. “We apprehended the ones responsible. Fortunately, we intercepted their outgoing messages, so what little information you gave them never reached anyone else.”

If this was true, Lion could exonerate himself. He also takes note of how Doc is silent about the before. He must guess Lion remembers being captured, remembers what they did to him. Bruises on his body are evidence for some of it, and the hellish trip tells the rest of the story. “How much did I say?”

“Doesn’t matter. We caught it.”

“How much?”

“You shouldn’t worry about -”

“Gustave!”, Lion roars, desperate to be either condemned or redeemed. He needs to know, must know so he can better assess his own mental strength. So he knows what to confess. So he can pray for forgiveness.

Doc’s lips are a thin line. “I don’t know. Grace and Mark had an agreement with Harry not to disclose any details. He says it’s standard procedure to prevent potential animosity.”

Not good enough. He’ll never be able to look Alexis in the eyes again if it turns out he did mention him. How much of his memories are real, how much were part of his nightmares? “What about my son?”, he whispers and Doc just shakes his head.

“As I said: I don’t know. Try to get some rest, Flament.”

Just as he exits the room, Lion spots the deep scratches on Doc’s forearm. Please stay, just please, he yells at Doc in his head, unable to bend his lips around the words. Don’t leave me alone. Don’t leave me.

He starts crying again.

So weak is he that the tears won’t stop, can’t stop, a broken silhouette in the shape of a man. Fragmented, just like his thoughts. He can’t remember ever feeling this terrible, hasn’t felt this frail and fragile in forever. His body doesn’t feel like home.

No time that night is spent sleeping. Restless, he crawls out of bed, explores the room that isn’t his while dragging his IV stand along, lets his eyes wander over pages not belonging to him, books left on his nightstand on accident probably, and doesn’t absorb a single word.

Once his thoughts are his own again, he utilises them with newfound fervour. He requests his phone and types until his thumbs hurt, types and deletes, corrects, amends, reinvents.

This is a theme in his life, an endlessly repeating circle: arrogance begets punishment. A boastful adolescent loses his innocence by nearly terminating an unborn life, by indulging vices too great for him to understand. A reformed young man deeming himself competent is burdened with death and riddled with blame (your hand held the scalpel).

A man, feeling invincible, having repaired bridges, full of empathy, is beaten bloody and broken.

He hasn’t updated his will in years – a symptom of a much more dangerous cause. Rainbow instilled a delusion of grandeur in him, promised him a future, coloured his life vibrantly and provided a new motto. Not me. He won’t be killed in the line of duty, not with these people by his side. He’ll be fine. Whatever happens, he’ll be fine.

This was a close call. Targeted and much more efficient than Six anticipated, or else Lion never would’ve been captured in the first place. If this is a sign, it couldn’t be any clearer: he’s not only not invincible, he’s delicate. This was just one weakness they could’ve exploited, Alexis obviously being another, his family as well. He won’t be as cocky when embarking on a mission from now on, and he’ll try to convey to the others how easy it is not to return.

It’s an earth-shattering wakeup call.

And so he types until the letters blur before his eyes, and says things which needed saying years ago. And he vows that this change in perspective will be a permanent one – he’ll never open himself up like this anymore. He’ll stay alert. He’ll fend off complacency.

And then Montagne is by his side and says a thing too chilling to be true. He’s gone, it drips from his lips like poison, and Lion knows with absolute certainty that it’s the truth. Doc accompanied him on the mission, Lion failed him, only he was saved. Endless protest is shushed by a sad shake of the head, a head with a face so ashen Lion can tell he’s not the only one filled with sorrow at the news.

There’s so much left unsaid between them, so much admiration and respect bottled up in order to show no weakness, and now he knows it’s useless to suppress emotion due to pride. Neither of them had managed to move on and now that Lion was willing to offer introspection and the admittance of possible mistakes in the shape of good intentions and the only course of action he saw, Doc would never be able to accept any of it.

Doc would never tell him he did a good job again. He’d never show him this grim smile again, the one he wore whenever he was satisfied with Lion’s work despite the outcome, laced with pride almost – or maybe this is wishful thinking, because after all they’ve lived through, a part of Lion still craves his approval so desperately that every positive word makes him glow from the inside, only he’s gone now, and Lion will never tell him –

“Olivier.”

Drenched in sweat, a pounding headache and with trembling limbs, he wakes up. Still in the hospital, still with Doc by his side. Of course: his demons have been depriving him of all things positive in his life, so why not him too? Nightmares know no bounds and refuse to accept Doc is sacred.

The other man is flushed slightly, dressed immaculately as always, but most importantly: alive. His gaze is turned downward to where Lion is gripping his wrist so tightly his knuckles are white. “I’m here”, Doc says gently. “You can let go. I’m here.”

Lion considers complying, though when it registers that Doc called him by first name, all he does is loosen his grip. “I dreamt you died”, he admits, staring up at the irregular patterns on the ceiling. He couldn’t ever convey this emotionless void Doc’s death caused in him, the utter emptiness – somehow, it was as if he’d lost his life’s goal. Which is insane, because his aim is to better the world. Not win Doc over.

“I could tell”, says Doc.

He must’ve been distraught, calling out in his sleep, reaching for his colleague. A question occurs to him which he should’ve asked sooner: “Is everyone else alright?”

“Yes.” Hesitation. “Ying has a black eye. When we came, they were currently depriving you.”

Lion figured as much. “I need to apologise to her.”

“You weren’t yourself.” Doc’s eyes meet his. “That wasn’t you.”

His relief must be palpable. Hearing it from Doc’s mouth doesn’t make it true, but it drowns out that malicious voice which never fucking shuts up. Giving up their secrets, thirsting for a meritless high, attacking blindly – even himself: he’s more than that, and knowing Doc is fully aware of this causes him to fight back tears of gratitude. “No. It wasn’t.”

After a moment of silence, Doc’s arm twists around and offers his hand, which Lion immediately accepts. For now, there’s no second-guessing motives, no long deliberation as to whether Doc is helping a co-worker, a friend, someone more than that, whether he’s volunteering support or understanding or something else entirely. All he knows is: the hand is warm, so warm it spreads a soft calmness all throughout him.

“I brought you music.” Doc indicates an old iPod on the bedside table next to the stack of books (which has grown), a vase with flowers and a few cards. Lion either failed to notice them before or they’re a recent addition. “Dominic helped with the selection.”

This is good news. Lion hopes for unfamiliar bands – he’s not sure what kind of reaction the ones from his youth might trigger in this state.

“And I spoke with Harry.” The segue is too casual. Lion has become proficient at reading between the lines with Doc, and he translates it as I gave him a stern talking to. “He said to tell you the information you gave was deemed ‘insignificant’.”

The wording doesn’t escape him: there’s no certainty in what -

“And you didn’t even mention Alexis.”

Lion takes a deep breath.

Between the constant pressure against his temples, the rolling stomach and nauseating dizziness, he’s felt better, but trusting Doc’s words to be true settles something inside him. Doc wouldn’t lie about this. “Thank you”, Lion replies and hopes his earnest gratitude is audible.

There’s so much to say between them his thoughts are going haywire considering just a fraction of it. All their arguments are ultimately the same as Lion’s treason: insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Something invisible connects them and it should be time to drag it to the surface, but not now. Not when he’s barely begun to heal from his outside and inside wounds.

Instead, he asks: “Will you stay a little longer?”

This time, Doc nods and remains where he is, a bastion of calm. And when Lion squeezes his hand, Doc returns the gesture and it’s all he needs for the moment.

It’s enough.

#rainbow six siege #doc #lion #doc/lion #fanfic #oneshot #commissions #my internet search history is very suspicious now #they're tired of dancing after this #there's more important things than beating around the bush

136 notes · View notes

ibijau · 4 years

Text

Burn it down AU // on AO3 // extras on AO3

The first few pieces of the puzzle are discovered, much to the dismay of everyone involved.

By the time Lan Wangji and A-Yuan reached the Cloud Recesses, Lan Xichen had long left for Lanling. It would have been easy to wait for his return to ask about that altered version of Cleansing which Nie Huaisang shared, easier still to forget entirely about this matter.

Instead, while A-Yuan was in class, Lan Wangji started perusing the restricted parts of Gusu Lan’s library. There was no need to bother checking more ordinary scores, he had quickly decided. If it had been a common song, he would have recognised it. Thus, it had to be one not ordinarily used.

The notion of a genuine mistake did cross his mind, of course. He did not linger on it. The melody, while clearly different from Cleansing, fit with it well enough to not bring direct attention to itself. There was a purposefulness to this that he did not like.

Day after day, Lan Wangji checked collections of songs that, for one reason or another, had to be kept out of reach of ordinary disciples. Aside from his investigation, it proved a rather fascinating exploration of his sect’s history, and of the different ways musical cultivation had been used over the years.

Between this, the morning reading of the rules to the juniors, and time spent with A-Yuan, his days were so well filled that he usually fell asleep easily, long before the hour where he felt the impulse to reach for Wei Wuxian’s soul.

It came as little surprise to discover that his time in the library had attracted his uncle’s attention. Lan Qiren was always interested in any research happening in the Cloud Recesses, and he still had little trust in his youngest nephew. The only odd thing, as far as Lan Wangji was concerned, was the fact that it took his uncle over a month to come see him in the restricted section of the library. Even then, he only did it under the pretext that Lan Xichen had sent a letter from Lanling, and some of the news concerned Lan Wangji.

Lan Xichen wrote to explain that he would be staying in Lanling longer than intended, to help Jin Guangyao settle in his new position. That his friend should be accepted as new head of Lanling Jin happened with surprising ease, which he guessed was due both to Jin Guangyao’s undeniable skills and his impeccable rhetoric. It also helped, of course, that the only alternative was a toddler. Jin Guangshan’s other recognised bastard, Mo Xuanyu, was apparently known all over Lanling as a particularly weak willed fool, and besides he was so utterly devoted to Jin Guangyao that he would never have gone against him even if he had understood what was at stake.

He mentioned, also, how worried he was once again about Nie Huaisang. The young sect leader had departed for Qinghe the instant the ceremonies were over. But while in Lanling, he had behaved very oddly, acting very panicked every time someone asked him his opinion about the situation and never really taking sides. Lan Xichen understood that his brother-in-law was still struggling to find his footing after being thrown into his position, but he still regretted that behaviour. He knew that Nie Huaisang was capable of being quite shrewd when needed, that he had a good head for politics, and so he hoped that Lan Wangji would continue supporting his husband and encouraging him to come into his own.

This struck Lan Wangji as peculiar. After the news of Jin Guangshan’s death, Nie Huaisang had immediately started analysing the situation and wondering how to support Jin Guangyao. It seemed that Lan Wangji was not the only one made suspicious by this very odd version of Cleansing.

When he was done reading, Lan Wangji returned the letter to his uncle, and waited for him to leave so he could continue his research. Instead, Lan Qiren picked up one of the scores he had been inspecting.

“You have been coming here a lot lately, Wangji. I encourage your will to study, but your material of choice seems rather inappropriate. There are no songs here you should ever use.”

“Hm.”

“I was happy to see you start to do better,” Lan Qiren said, dropping the score impatiently. “I rejoiced too fast. It seems your interest for darkness has not relented after all.”

“Hm.”

The accusation glided on Lan Wangji like water off a duck’s back. And yet, as his uncle turned to leave, he felt an impulse to stop him. Not because his opinion still mattered on a personal level. But whether Lan Wangji liked it or not, his uncle was a renowned scholar and an expert on musical techniques. If Lan Xichen was to remain absent, then it might be wise to turn to someone else for advice.

“A certain melody has been brought to my attention,” Lan Wangji explained as his uncle was about to pass the threshold. “I have never heard it before. It could be innocuous, but the circumstances were unusual.”

Lan Qiren stopped in his tracks.

“What circumstances were those?”

A logical question, but one Lan Wangji hesitated to answer in full until he had a better understanding of the situation. There was little point in throwing accusations at the moment.

“At a certain time, a certain cultivator used a spiritual melody that I know. I was not here to hear it, but a person I trust did. When later I played that melody for that person, they remarked that it was different from what they had heard from that other cultivator.”

“And you do not think it was a mistake,” Lan Qiren noted, walking back toward his nephew now that his curiosity was picked. “What was the original melody?”

“A Lan healing song.”

“I could have guessed that much,” his uncle retorted. “That person, were they able to describe what had been changed?”

Lan Wangji nodded, and hummed the song fragment that Nie Huaisang had shared with him. When he finished, his uncle was frowning. Without a word, Lan Qiren sat down and easily put on paper the notes of that song, his scowl deepening as he inspected it.

“I have never heard that played, but I have seen it before,” he announced. “It is definitely something that we have in our collection, but I cannot remember what it is exactly. Do you know if it had any specific effects when played?”

After careful consideration, Lan Wangji nodded.

“The healing song’s effect might have been cancelled by it,” he explained, recalling how little Nie Mingjue’s mood had improved after Cleansing was played to him. “It is possible it even inverted the effects. I cannot be sure. I am not close enough to the person on whom it was used to judge if their temperament was affected by this, or other events.”

“It might be interesting to interrogate that person. It is difficult to say for sure, not without the original score to show the manner in which the song must be imbued with spiritual energy, but it appears to me as though it could easily be used for nefarious purposes.”

“The person has died since then, and cannot be interrogated.”

His uncle’s eyes narrowed at the news, and he glared at the score.

“I see. If the person you are speaking off is the one I think… this could be a dangerous situation, Wangji. Continue your investigation, but do not speak of it to anyone until things are certain. Does your husband know?”

“Hm.”

Lan Qiren nodded and stroked his beard, as if that confirmed some of his suspicions.

“Tell me if you find out what that song is, do not make rash decisions and do not let your husband make them either. If there is need for action, your brother and I will do what is necessary.”

“Hm,” Lan Wangji replied, letting that simple sound carry all of his doubt. Even if that song truly had the effect suspected, the only proof that it had been used was Nie Huaisang’s memory of it, which was hardly any proof at all, considering whose word they would need to go against.

Still, he supposed he should have been grateful that his uncle was offering to help at all.

He refused to be.

It took a few more days after this chat with his uncle for Lan Wangji to finally learn more about the corrupted melody, and even then he very nearly missed it entirely. As he was browsing a collection of foreign songs, Lan Wangji encountered a passage that made little sense, with a score starting in a certain style and ending in a very different one. He almost dismissed it as being due to the very unusual nature of that particular anthology, filled with music that aimed only to disorient, hurt, or straight out kill those upon whom it was inflicted. Of course songs such as these might not follow the usual rules of harmony.

Luckily, one of the passages still caught his attention enough to be worth comparing to his uncle’s transcription of the corrupted song. It was not a match, not exactly, but there was a certain harmony between the two, a similarity that made it perfectly possible for the two to be part of the same piece. Indeed, after close inspection, Lan Wangji realised that a part of this particular book, named The Collection of Turmoil, had been very carefully removed, leaving almost no trace of the now missing page.

In such circumstances, it was too big of a coincidence to be ignored. Lan Wangji put back every other material he had prepared to research that day, keeping only the Collection of Turmoil with him and leaving with it.

His plans of showing the incomplete song to his uncle was, unfortunately, thwarted when he learned that Lan Qiren had left the Cloud Recesses, called by some urgent business in Gusu. The elder he had left in charge assured Lan Wangji that his uncle would return in a matter of days. It was inconvenient, but not overtly so. Lan Wangji did not mind waiting a little longer, and would use that delay to further study the broken melody.

The rest of the day passed rather pleasantly. His mind no longer so taken by his research, Lan Wangji was able to better play with A-Yuan when his son’s classes finished. They fed the rabbits together and, since the weather was pleasant, stayed a long while in their pen, watching them hop around. A-Yuan had given names to all of them and although they all looked very similar, he was particularly good at distinguishing between them and noticing their personalities. Due to his age he was still sometimes a little clumsy when catching and holding them, but it was obvious that A-Yuan was trying very hard to be kind to the rabbits. Lan Wangji hoped the animals knew how much they were loved. He hoped, also, that A-Yuan knew how loved he was. He doubted that it would ever be easy for him to say it with words, so all he had were actions.

On the way back to the Jingshi, he picked up A-Yuan in his arms and carried him, holding him with as much gentleness as his son had tried to show to the rabbits.

He hoped it was enough to show how much he cared.

Judging by the way A-Yuan smiled, it might have been enough.

The evening passed just as pleasantly. They had dinner alone in the Jingshi, as they often did when Lan Qiren wasn’t around to complain about Lan Wangji spoiling his son. When that was over, Lan Wangji tried to read a story to his son, only for A-Yuan to interrupt at nearly every sentence because he too wanted to try reading. He was starting to know quite a few characters, and Lan Wangji patiently provided him with those he could not yet recognise. When the story was over, A-Yuan went to bed and, owing to that sunny afternoon with the rabbits, quickly fell asleep. Lan Wangji, now alone, put order to a few things inside the house. He was thinking of joining his son and ending the day when there was an urgent knock on the door.

Lan Wangji barely had time to take a step toward the door before Nie Huaisang barged in, breathless and disheveled, as if he had run there. No, not just run. For the first time since his days as a student in the Cloud Recesses, Nie Huaisang had a saber at his hip, which meant he might have flown all the way from Qinghe.

“Huaisang?”

“They took him,” his husband hissed, his face distorted in a terrible grimace, his limbs trembling from both rage and exhaustion.

“Him?”

“Mingjue! Someone took him! His grave is empty!”

Lan Wangji threw a quick look toward the bed, where A-Yuan was fast asleep. He would not stay so if he heard Nie Huaisang’s voice, and his husband did not look in a state to control his volume.

“Outside.”

They went to the rabbits’ pen, where they were least likely to be disturbed by anyone, especially at such an hour. Lan Wangji sat down and gestured for his husband to do the same, but Nie Huaisang refused and instead started pacing in the grass.

“I kept thinking about that song,” he explained. “How you said there’s only one version of Cleansing. And as I was travelling toward Lanling and became more nervous, I kept thinking how when you played it, Cleansing always calmed me down perfectly well. I was a mess before you came to visit, but then you arrived, played a little music, and I started feeling better. So why didn’t it work for Da-ge?”

“Hm. On that matter…”

“It doesn’t make sense that he was so angry!” Nie Huaisang insisted, ignoring the attempt to interrupt him. “It doesn’t make sense that I was so angry! I know we’ve always argued a lot, but never like this, we were never so vicious toward each other! It makes no sense at all, but everything hurt so much after losing him, I was so upset all the time, I didn’t even notice until you started playing the song for me. And so I thought… I thought if something had been done to him, maybe his body would bear the trace. It’s not been so long, I was hoping if I checked, I might find something.”

He stopped his pacing and shuddered.

“I found something for sure. Or rather, I found nothing. The coffin was… it had been weighted down with stones, but that’s it. There was no body inside. Wangji, they stole his body! They… no. Not they. He. It has to be him. Who else would have had the occasion? He was the one taking care of the coffin and the tomb, we let him have free rein over that. He… I trusted him!” Nie Huaisang exploded, before breaking into tears and falling to his knees on the grass. “I trusted him, I fought with Da-ge on his behalf! I trusted him so much and he did this to him, to us!”

Awkwardly, Lan Wangji shuffled closer and patted his husband's shoulder. There were no words of comfort for a moment like this one. The best Lan Wangji could offer was validation.

“Cleansing was corrupted with a fragment of another song,” he announced. “I have found the work from which it comes, but the score itself was torn away. The book was in a restricted session. Even among disciples, few people are allowed there. But there are two strangers to our sect who were given unlimited access to all of Cloud Recesses, owing to their ties to Zewu-Jun.”

“And my brother wouldn’t have done this,” Nie Huaisang sniffled. “He… he did this. He really did this. He killed my brother and he took his body! He… I thought he was my friend. I thought he was our friend!”

Without warning, Nie Huaisang let himself fall into Lan Wangji arms, hugging him tight and sobbing against his shoulder. His first instinct was to push him away, disgusted as he often was by unwanted contact. Instead, Lan Wangji forced himself to relax and tolerate it. There was not much he could do for Nie Huaisang at the moment, but if his husband needed this, he would make an effort.

After a long while, Nie Huaisang’s sobs calmed down. He pulled back, dried his tears, and sighed.

“I must find Da-ge’s body,” he announced. “If it was taken, it must be because it contains proof of what was done to him. Jin Guangyao is many things, but not a fool. He would not have done something so risky if he had not been forced to. If I find the body, I might be able to demand justice. But first, I must find it…”

“It will not be easy.”

“Might not be so hard either,” Nie Huaisang replied, a little more collected already. “The Nie sect has always had an ideal of justice, so we have a few techniques for finding missing bodies. I’m not an expert at any of them, and with my cultivation being what it is, it’ll take some effort, but I’ll manage. I’ll find him.”

“We will find him.”

Nie Huaisang stared at Lan Wangji with wide eyes and shook his head.

“That’s not your business. I… I shouldn’t even have come here, really. I should have kept this to myself. Jin Guangyao has just become the most powerful man in the country, to have him as an enemy is… It’s better if you stay out of this, Wangji. I’ve already caused you enough trouble.”

“You are my husband,” Lan Wangji retorted. “You are my friend. I already left one friend to fend for himself against Lanling Jin. I will not make that mistake again.”

For a brief moment, it looked as if Nie Huaisang might start crying again, but he managed to contain his emotions and smiled instead.

“You are a good man, Wangji. If you are really willing to help, I’ll be selfish and accept it.”

“I would not have let you refuse.”

Nie Huaisang’s smile widened, and he even managed a short laugh.

“Rude. Very rude. I can’t see why people call you a gentleman when you’re so rude to this poor husband of yours.”

Lan Wangji smiled back. He knew better than to take Nie Huaisang’s laughter as a sign he was well, but if he could at least use his usual defence mechanism again, he had to at least be better.

Still, as they walked back toward the Jingshi, Nie Huaisang fell into deep silence, which he only broke when they reached the door of their home.

“Wangji, if you come with me to Qinghe to investigate, what do we do with A-Yuan?”

“He comes as well,” Lan Wangji replied, although he did not particularly like the idea of dragging his son into this.

“But it could be dangerous,” Nie Huaisang protested. “I don’t know Guangyao as well as I thought I did, but I still think I have a good grasp of who he is. If it really is him who stole Da-ge’s body, he’ll have taken every step necessary to ensure it is never found again, so there can be no proof of what he did. He’s learned the hard way to be careful about things like that.”

“Hm. We leave him here with Hou Tianjian?”

“It’s a better option, but won’t that bring attention to us? It is well known that you never part from him. It could be explained when we went to Qinghe together because you’ve never bothered to hide that you disliked my brother. But now that he's gone? If we travel together, people will find it very odd that we did not take him with us. We're known as quite the happy little family after all.”

“You said it was too dangerous,” Lan Wangji pointed out.

Nie Huaisang sighed in frustration.

“It is! But if he stays here, we need to find a good excuse to feed Hou Tianjian. This is too delicate to tell her the truth, I’m not trusting anyone except you. What to do… it’s really too bad you’re such a poor liar, or it’d be easy.”

“Hm.”

Again, Nie Huaisang sighed, and he started pacing in front of the door.

“How to make it work… the guard on duty at the entrance saw me, as did a few servants probably. I’ve been flying for a week straight, so I must look like a mess. And everyone knows I’m just a little idiot who’s good for nothing aside from badly painting landscapes.”

“You are not…”

“Hush, hush, I am, I don’t mind, I don’t care. I’ve worked hard to make sure I’d never be anything more than that. So here I am, an absolute mess, knocking at your door in the middle of the night, causing a scene… and I did, don’t deny it. I caused such a scene we had to go talk among rabbits, Wangji! That’s true, and that’s what you’re going to tell Hou Tianjian when you leave A-Yuan with her.”

Nie Huaisang finally stopped pacing, and instead played with the hem of his sleeve.

“You can tell her that I have been unwell since my brother’s death, which is also true. You can tell her that I’m faced with problems I can’t handle alone which…” he snickered. “It certainly is true, isn’t it? And if you tell her that right now you don’t think it’s safe for A-Yuan to be around me, that’s true as well.”

“Hm. I will do that.”

It would be unpleasant to paint such a portrait of his husband, no matter how true each individual statement was. It would be even more unpleasant to do it for Hou Tianjian, with whom Nie Huaisang had a certain friendship and who always seemed to have a good opinion of him. But if he was willing to sacrifice that for A-Yuan's safety, Lan Wangji would play his part.

“Great. And I’ll… find somewhere to spend the night,” Nie Huaisang decided. “It’s probably better if A-Yuan doesn’t see me, it’ll upset him if I’m here only to steal you away, won’t it?”

That, unfortunately, was true. A-Yuan very frequently asked when they would return to Qinghe, wanting to check both on Nie Huaisang and on the garden they had planted together. It would be difficult for him to understand that for a time, the adults in his life needed to have other priorities.

As to where Nie Huaisang might spend the night...

“Brother is still in Lanling. His house is empty.”

Nie Huaisang startled at the suggestion, and laughed nervously.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll sleep better if I go back to the rabbit’s pen,” he said. “The night isn’t so cold anyway. I’ll hide there until you come pick me up, when you have dropped A-Yuan with Hou Tianjian and Jingyi.”

“Your choice.”

“I never get much of a choice,” Nie Huaisang chuckled. “Not for this, not for anything else. Ah, well… good night, husband. Please hug A-Yuan for me tomorrow morning.”

“I will.”

Nie Huaisang smirked at his answer, but made no comment as he turned back toward the path that led to the rabbits’ pen.

#nie huaisang #lan wangji #mo dao zu shi #burn it down au #xisang #barely there this chapter but still lol #this is a lot of reveals for this we all know already so I hope it's still interesting to read lol #jau writes #mdzs

14 notes · View notes

khhunniewriting · 5 years

Text

Synchronicity

You nonchalantly bopped your head side to side as you sipped your Midori sour through the small thin straw it came with. It was the only drink you found worth drinking at these types of places. By these types of places, you meant clubs. They were fun for most. you, however, had a problem with being bumped into every second and getting whiplash from constantly looking over your shoulders to see who had “accidentally” grabbed your ass. It was hard to single out any one offense so you begrudgingly let it go.

“Come one Y/N,” your friend begged you. “I want to be closer to the action.” They all liked to drink and dance with no caution whatsoever because they had you to rely on. They knew you never got drunk, you were always strict and proper but you also knew how to have fun.

“Yeah come on Y/N.” Another one of your friends held your free hand in an attempt to pull you in but you resisted staying at the edge of the dancefloor. It was close to the bar, close to the exit, and to the table you had told your friends to regroup at if they ever got lost. You were definitely the mom of the group at this point despite being the only one that didn’t have a kid or a man.

The whole situation had made you sip unconsciously until the sweet-sour liquid stopped running through your straw. “You four go ahead, I’m going for another drink and coming back to this spot.” You took a few more sips causing a bit of a slurping sound when all you got was air and a few drops of water from the ice that was melting in your glass.

With little reservation, your friends disappeared into the sea of people. You went to the bar like you had said. It was full of people trying to get their drinks. There was no order, no line to wait in. It was all about getting through to the front and getting the bartender’s attention first. This was the only time you willingly got close to these strangers.

As you waited for an opening to wiggle through, you felt the need to look around. It was strange, that feeling of being watched. You were in a building full of people. There could be several people unintentionally looking your way yet you felt it. That feeling like you were being watched.

That feeling left when your attention was on the gap between two people at the bar. You quickly sucked in your stomach and passed by a few people to beat them and order your drink.

When you got your drink you retreated to the meeting spot. The small table had a few high chairs you struggled to sit on. You were almost sure that if anyone was watching you they saw when your dress rode up to the point where they could see your upper thigh. Immediately upon settling in your seat, you pulled down on the hem of your dress to cover up.

Moments later one of your friends came to you looking exhausted. “Oh my god Y/N, I just saw the hottest man ever! I think he’s famous or something. Girls kept saying his name but I didn’t know who he was. Why can’t I be single?”

“Because you chose to get married and have two kids.” She met your response with a sigh. After another jab at her married life, you got the picture that she was going through some quarter-life crisis. “You’re really making me thankful for my single life.”

“We should get you a man-”

“You want to bring me down with the ship too?”

She laughed, “I complain but it’s not all bad.” It was unclear to her why you were single. In her unbiased opinion, you were quite the catch. Your sense of humor was a bit dark but it went with your edginess. There was also the sweet, kind side of you that took care of everyone around you- the mom side. In her biased opinion, you were her friend so you were the bomb.com. “Want to go see the guy I was talking about?”

“No thanks-” you picked up your drink to finish off its contents. “I would much rather go home now.”

“Look you can see him from here!” She pointed straight at him.

The direction she was pointing too was the private reserved booths. “You said he was famous?”

“I think so, the girls kept gushing over him like he was some kind of celebrity. There were a few guys too.”

That would explain why he was surrounded by women who were feeling him up. He was just chilling, drink in one hand- cigarette in the other. The women were doing all the work to get his attention. They sat beside him, in front of him, behind, and he even grabbed one and sat her on him. Someone who could casually be with so man women at once wasn’t what you were looking for. “I’ll admit he’s easy on the eyes but I can’t be with someone like that.”

“What do you mean?” She looked back and forth between you two as if imagining you side by side. “He’s perfect for you!” Her comment was a bit loud even if the music was louder. It didn’t help that she kept pointing in his general direction.

“Didn’t your mother teach you not to point at people?” you reprimanded as you lowered her hand.

“Sorry Mom~” she rolled her eyes.

Your eyes went back to the supposed famous guy but you quickly looked away choking on your drink.

“What the-” your friend gave a few pats on the back. “Are you okay?”

“He’s looking...”

She didn’t try to hide the fact that she was checking on him. “He really is!”

Your eyes widened when she kept talking to you and looking back at him, making it obvious you two were talking about him. “You really need to shut the fuck up and stop staring at strangers!”

“OMG Y/N I know who he is now. That guy next to him is Nafla and the other one is Owen, there’s Loopy too so then that’s Bloo.”

“You have a really strange way of remembering things.” How did she manage to name everyone else before him?

“Sorry, the girls were in the way so I couldn’t really see him.”

“Anyway, he’s not my type,” you shrugged.

“Liar- you just want to go home.”

“Touche.”

\\\

“What are you looking at?” Nafla asked as he finally got Bloo’s attention. He followed his line of sight but didn’t see anything particularly eye-catching in the crowd of people.

For Bloo it was different. This was the third time he spotted the same person. He wasn’t looking for her but somehow he managed to always find her. This last time he stared a little too long which is why Nafla caught him. “Nothing I was just-” his neck stretched out as he tried looking for you once more.

He was sure he saw you looking his way but he lost sight when the girl fell on his lap.

“Looks like he lost whatever it was,” Owen chuckled. Bloo now looked like a sad puppy who had been abandoned by his owner. “Cheer up, there’s plenty more to see.”

Bloo couldn’t though. It was just like him to have so much in front of him yet want what was farthest from his reach. Without another word, he slumped back feeling like he missed an opportunity.

\\\

Weeks later you found yourself at another club with your friends. This one was louder, bigger, and worse! “I hate all of you!” You shouted at the top of your lungs yet your friends only snickered and laughed like a cackle of hyenas. This was your birthday, they were supposed to do something you liked- which would be anything but this. “I’m the third wheel for...” you pointed to each of your friends and their significant others as you counted, “four f*cking bicycles.”

“We know you love us.”

“And appreciate us.”

One of them pulled her credit card out of her bra to hand to you. “Come on all your drinks are on me.”

You eyed her from the corner of your eyes. The piece of plastic was very enticing, drinks were far more expensive at these popular clubs so you knew better than to turn her down. “Thank you for taking a hit,” you snatched the card wiping it on the sleeve of your dress. “Don’t want your boobie germs.”

“Just remember we have kids who depend on us to feed them,” her husband joked knowing you could drink your weight and more. Especially now that you didn’t have to worry about them.

“You’re kids better like cereal because that’s all they’ll be eating after tonight.” They laughed as they saw you practically skip towards the bar. “Midori sour, to start,” you cockily handed over the card as payment. “Keep the tab open, I’ll be coming back.”

Bloo chuckled when he heard your promise to return. When he looked over the smile that had accompanied the laughter fell. It was hard to describe how he felt about seeing you again. He watched you leave with your drink to the dance floor- never losing sight of you.

You rejoined some of your friends, drink in hand. They were dancing with their partners leaving you off to the side but nearby. You didn’t mind dancing alone even when you knew people were scratching their heads wondering how you fit in with the group.

“Looks like you could use a partner.”

You opened your eyes startled by the sudden presence beside you. It took moment for you to readjust to the bright strobing lights but you immediately found the source of the voice. “Holy sh*t- this is going to sound rude but what are you doing here?” You tried to sound casual about it but in fact, you were panicking at the thought of him remembering you from that one time. Although you were confident in the fact that he saw so many women he would surely forget half of them.

Bloo laughed, “If you know my name shouldn’t you give me yours?”

Your eyes widened at his forwardness. “Ah, you really are good at this.” It was easy to see how he managed to gather a crowd of fawning women when he used such smooth lines.

“Her name is Y/N,” one of your friends’ husband spoke up knowing very well who he was. He was hoping to get a picture with him later in exchange later.

You scowled at him for ruining your plans of brushing him off. “Fine, I guess I can dance this once with you.”

True to your word you danced till the end of the song keeping a safe distance from him so you wouldn’t give him the wrong idea. Yes, he was attractive but that didn’t mean you would bend to his will so easily just because he was a famous rapper.

When the dance was over Bloo found himself wanting to stay beside you a little longer. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“No thanks I’m all set,” you flashed the little piece of plastic that was your godsend.

God giveth and God taketh away.

Your friend snatched the card from your hand, “She would love a drink.” Now her children wouldn’t go hungry.

You sent them all a death glare, even the ones who had nothing to do with your nigh turning from a solo mission to a duo.

“Let me just tell you right now... there’s no way anything can happen between us.”

Bloo smirked, “We’ll see about that.” He had thought the same thing the day he saw you at the other club but now here he was leading you to the bar, his hand on your lower back breathing in the fruity-floral scent of your perfume.

He didn’t believe in fate but it was hard to ignore the fact that his eyes were drawn to you every time.

-end-

A/N: Synchronicity is a concept which holds that events are "meaningful coincidences" if they occur with no causal relationship yet seem to be meaningfully related. ( I know some of you will look it up ^^ )

275 notes · View notes

takeiteasypeasybaby · 4 years

Text

Save Me: Chapter 39 - Try

~Hey guys! Chapter 39 is out now! We’re almost up to 40 chapters of Save Me!! I can't believe it, it feels like just yesterday that I started this blog :) I hope everyone is doing well and enjoys this chapter~

Both Molly and Negan are learning to trust outsiders again. While Negan tries and struggles to open up to anyone who isn't Molly, Molly is trying to put the past behind her and find a new reason to carry on, which come in the form of new arrivals at Hilltop.

I reached Hilltop with a renewed sense of clarity regarding Negan.

I think it took me until now to realise that the past, while hard to swallow, is the past for a reason and it doesn't mean that he is the same person as he was back then.

Seeing the Sanctuary in ruin was what I needed to realise that what happened to me there is completely behind me and the man responsible is long since dead.

I think now I can finally learn to forgive him for his past crimes, after all we have all done things to survive and protect those we love.

I don't expect anyone else to forgive and certainly not forget, but perhaps just simply acknowledge that there is more to him than his past actions.

When I rocked up to the gates, my mind turned back to the attention of Tara's new people she had brought to us.

She had radioed me and told me that she found them in the woods just outside of Oceanside and thought that they would be of use at Hilltop.

'Mol!' Tara yelled happily as she waved while she ran into my arms.

'Agh! I've missed you so damn much!' I said squeezing her tightly and burying my face into the crook of her neck.

'So...who are they?' I said as she pulled away.

'Well, there are five of them. There were six, but he died en route' she said softly.

I just nodded, looking in the direction of the group she had just described who were standing around outside the house.

I exhaled, 'alright, let's get this shit done' I said enthusiastically, smiling at my sister who led me to meet them.

'Hi, I'm Molly. I am co-leader here at Hilltop' I said warmly as I shook hands with all of them.

There was one guy and the rest were women.

All extremely capable looking.

'I'm Yumiko!' a kind looking woman said smiling while she adjusted her bow on her shoulders.

A woman with sharp features glared at her when she did that, I guessed that she was the leader of this group.

'What's your name?' I asked softly to the leader.

'Magna' she said hastily.

I just nodded with a slight smile.

'I'm Luke, lovely to meet you by the way!' a large set man with soft features and kind eyes said as he shook my hand for the second time.

I just smiled and chuckled at his awkwardness.

'Great to meet you' I replied as I shook his hand.

Next, were the final two women who seemed to remain silent and very much bonded together which I could tell by their close proximity to each other.

'My name's Kelly, this is my sister Connie. She's deaf, but I can sign to her and translate' she said smiling.

I smiled and nodded to Kelly.

I then looked to Connie and signed to her 'It's wonderful to meet you Connie, I hope you will like it here'.

They all looked at me in wonder and Connie's smile seemed to widen at this.

'I learned to sign when I was at school. My cousin was deaf' I said verbally and with sign so that everyone could listen.

I wanted them to trust in me and I hoped I had done just that.

'We usually like to ask a couple questions to new citizens of the Hilltop community. Would that be okay?' I said, again also signing.

They all nodded, Magna was hesitant at first.

'Great, what were your occupations before?' I asked while Tara wrote down their answers.

'Gas station attendant' Magna said looking down.

'Lawyer' Yumiko answered while making direct eye contact.

'Music teacher' Luke said enthusiastically.

Kelly used ASL to ask Connie who replied that she was a Journalist and that Kelly was in High School.

I nodded to Tara, impressed by each of them.

'Who are you now?' I asked seriously.

'Survivors' Luke answered sternly.

'Good' I responded, 'well then, welcome to Hilltop' I added.

'So...whatcha think?' Tara asked me as she linked her arm through mine as we walked through the fields after the interview.

'I like them, they seem like genuinely nice people' I answered.

'I am a bit worried about Magna' Tara said nervously.

'She seems hesitant to be here' she added.

'You said they lost somebody before you brought them here right? No wonder she's unwilling to trust right away, I mean you wouldn't' I said reassuringly.

'You're right...as always' Tara said rolling her eyes.

I just chuckled as I said 'yep'.

We suddenly spun around to look towards the gates when a loud exhaust noise sounded from that direction.

It was a motorbike.

Daryl came driving through and parked up outside the gate.

'It's Daryl' I said tapping Tara on the arm for her to follow me as I ran down to see him.

'Hey!' I shouted as I came closer.

'Hey, just came to some equipment for Eugene's new radio thing' he said barely looking at me as he marched towards the house.

'That was odd' Tara said as we watched him leave.

'Yeah, that was weird. Fuck he must be mad at me' I said in realisation.

'It could be me?' Tara asked.

I just shook my head and chuckled saying 'he's never mad at you'.

I told Tara that I would meet her later but first I needed to talk to Daryl.

I followed him up to the house where he was placing down the equipment.

'Daryl...can we talk?' I asked anxiously as I peered around the door frame.

'I dunno, can we?' he answered with annoyance running through his voice.

I looked down, yep he was definitely mad at me.

'Why are you so pissed at me? I thought we worked everything out when we searched for Rick all those past months' I said furrowing my brows in confusion.

He sighed and stood up.

He pointed at me and said 'you're a real piece of work you know that' as he walked past me.

I opened my mouth in disbelief.

'What? what are you talking about?' I asked in confusion.

'You know what. Negan' he said as he carried on placing stuff on various surfaces.

'What about Negan?' I said looking away from his gaze.

'You two best buddies now? that all square?' he asked sternly.

'It's complicated' I answered so softly that he barely heard me.

He scoffed at this, 'the guy is an asshole and you're acting like he's hot shit' he answered.

'I believe that he can change, I believe he has changed, so does Michonne by the way and I don't see you attacking her for this. Why me, huh?' I said gaining more confidence as I walked slowly towards him with every word.

'You can do better' he grunted as he walked out of the room.

My eyes widened as the realisation of the meaning of his words hit me.

Negan's POV//

'You are here, aware of yourself' Gabe said softly as he tried to perform some meditation shit to get me to relax.

I had my eyes closed as I sat on the floor of my cell, Gabe on the other side.

'Just let it go' he added.

'Don't judge the distraction, accept it' he said, his voice muffled by the sound of children laughing and playing outside.

'Scaredy cat, scaredy cat!' the children chanted outside my cell window.

'Consider it, then release it' he continued.

This wasn't fucking relaxing at all. I scrunched up my face in frustration.

'Just let it wash over you' he went on.

'You know what, screw it. Mind never empties anyway, generally I go straight to that place which would blush the collar right off of you' I said as I opened my eyes and sighed.

'Although, now that you and Rosita are a thing, maybe I'm wrong...I mean, hot damn!' I said smirking and bouncing the ball off the concrete wall.

'I wanna understand why you do this. You clearly want help, I can see you trying' Gabe said softly.

I scoffed.

'Yeah, maybe we cooked it up, chewed it up and shat it out already. Maybe this is all we get' I said deflecting his statement.

'You don't feel like you're getting any benefit to our sessions?' he asked with a smile which screamed of annoyance.

'Well, I am reminded that another week has passed, but other than that...' I said continuing bouncing the ball.

Gabe sighed, frustrated with my response.

'Ah, don't take it personally Gabe, I know I'm never gettin' outta here. I do appreciate you coming down here and helping me when that was touch-and-go for me. But, now I got everything I need. This little window right here is just like a damn TV and I loved the shit outta TV when that was a thing!' I said enthusiastically.

'Acceptance is an important first step, but a life needs to have meaning-' Gabe started to say before I cut him off.

'Funny thing about this window right here, people stand out there and they talk. It's like they don't remember that I'm here, and that, well that is when I get the really good shit. You know just the other day, Rosita was out there chattin' up a storm. She said some things that you would find very interesting' I teased.

'I don't need you to tell me how Rosita feels about me' he said smiling falsely.

'Now who said she was talking' about you' I said smiling and catching the ball in my hands.

'We'll try this again next week' Gabe said tiredly.

'It's your world boss' I answered.

Judith's POV//

I sat on the stairs in my PJ's as mom locked the doors for the night.

'Judith Grimes!' she said sternly as she saw that I was holding my dad's gun in my hand.

'You said dad would've wanted me to have it, to protect myself and the people I love' I replied questioningly.

'He would've, but I'm the one whose supposed to be protecting you' mom replied softly.

'Is that why you don't want the new people here, because I think dad would've thought differently' I said.

Mom smiled as she said 'he would've and he would be so proud of you, your brother too'.

'Then why won't you help them?' I asked.

'You'll understand someday' she replied.

I hated when she said that.

I got up, walked down the stairs and said sadly 'I know you talk to him sometimes, to Carl too'.

I set down my favourite figurine on the step, which mom said looked like my dad.

He wore a sheriff's hat and pointed a gun.

'I'm starting to forget their voices. I'm not trying to, but they keep fading away' I said as I started to cry.

'I hope you can still hear them' I said sadly before I ran back up the stairs to my room.

Somehow Negan now felt more like my dad...

#negan #jdm #jeffrey dean morgan #negan's thirst squad #negan x original female character #twd #the walking dead #twdromance #smut #maggie #daryl dixon #judith grimes #mollychambler

2 notes · View notes

rainydawgradioblog · 4 years

Text

a covidsation with august

Max Moore is a Vashon Island based artist, who just released stunningly ethereal album called Trust under the moniker August. Check it out-- ya won’t regret it! Thank you so much to Max for taking time to answer these questions and providing wonderful insight on this crisis and how we can all support each other!

Lola Gil: Tell me about your project. How long have you been making music (as August, or otherwise)? Which artists are you most inspired by? How would you describe your sound?

Max Moore: i started making music under the name august only this year ! for a long time i have been searching for a project and creative space that felt both personal and truthful, it just happened to all come together with the release of my ep, trust, in february ! i have released music under many other names over the years as i experimented and dipped my toes into different sounds and styles, my first releases on the internet were from when i was like, 12 !!! as far as musical heroes, the list is long but at the top would be arthur russell, bjork, brian wilson, arca, nick drake, sophie, elliott smith, autechre, harry nilsson, burial ... i really could go on forever. i think a lot of people try to hide their true influences but i feel there is something sexy about putting it all out there and referencing them as would an author, filmmaker, painter etc. my "sound" these days seems to be quite amorphous, it really is shifting from minute to minute. i would like to think it would sound like some amalgamation of the artists i listed earlier but it's hard for me to tell.

LG: How long was the process of making and producing your most recent album, Trust? How do you feel now that it’s out? Are you planning on releasing any new music soon?

MM: the process was looooong, like really long. i didn't release any music "seriously" for 3 or 4 years ! trust came out of a sudden, brief moment of clarity and surrender, as cheesy as that sounds. i was able to overcome a lot of the blockages i face in my creative process and just assemble this thing, and it just fell together ! i had all of these bits and pieces and sketches and ideas that never fully developed into anything, so i decided to compile them into one continuous piece of music. i was really into this idea of sonic miniatures or vignettes, short and sweet but with a depth that's only barely touched upon before moving on to the next. it was so incredibly therapeutic and wonderful to put it out into the world, so much support from friends and peers all around me. for now i'm still incubating but am hoping to see new music taking form this year :)

LG: As an artist, how have you been affected by COVID-19? You mentioned you had a handful of shows cancelled-- what has your experience been/what are your thoughts towards live streaming?

MM: like many artists in the community, i had a good handful of shows, contracted work, etc. canceled as a result of the virus. i am lucky enough to be in a position currently where i did not have to take a significant financial hit due to this (i work a day job at a record store & cafe) but i know many artists who now are struggling to make rent and stay safe through this pandemic. i think live streaming is a beautiful and special way for artists to connect with fans, especially in a time like this ! but there are so many aspects to a real, alive, performance that just can't exist in that digital space. for example, making friends and connections, selling merch, interacting face to face with fans, etc. though there is something beautiful about people from around the world being able to tune in to a livestream and make song requests, leave a nice comment, confess their love lol

LG: Apart from August, have you been involved in any other creative projects recently?

MM: recently i have been moving into more sound design work ! i was recording and mixing sounds for a play that was to run in june i believe, which just today was postponed until next year. that was my first *official* sound design job, i was really looking forward to it :(

LG: How have you been personally affected by COVID? What has your quarantine experience been like so far?

MM: aside from being out of work, and not being able to connect with friends, i feel very privileged as i am with my family, in my home. i have had a lot of time to do things that normally i am barely able to squeeze into my day like journaling, going for walks, extensive music writing sessions, playing video games. i think a lot of us are facing serious anxiety and depression right now, so i am really prioritizing my mental health, and making sure my friends and family are well. also, this new animal crossing game really could not have come at a better time, i don't know where i would be right now without it to be honest.

LG: What music have you been listening to recently? What has been your go-to quarantine album/song?

MM: in any times of crisis, confusion, sadness, happiness, really in any time at all i always turn to the same album: arthur russell's 'world of echo'. to me it is the perfect record, i aspire to make music that makes me feel the way that album does. it is a great listen if you need some time to reflect, or need something reflected back at you ! another favorite right now is bo en, he's done some incredible video game soundtracks (i'm playing through one right now called 'pikuniku', soooo sweet) and just has the most brilliant ideas. ooo and alice coltrane !!! special music only right now.

LG: Were there any spring shows that you were particularly looking forward to that got cancelled?

MM: i have been waiting to see arca in seattle since i was a sophomore in high school, and she announced a tour only a few weeks before all of this went down ! hopefully there will be a rescheduled date that i will be able to attend ... fingers crossed

LG: How do you think the Seattle/greater Seattle area music scene is going to shift post-COVID?

MM: i think coming out of this time we will see an enormous influx of events as we all recognize how special and necessary these sorts of things are. i know i will be so grateful to be able to run around and dance and meet up with friends, all of that good stuff. i am hoping that we will not forget these times though and can sustain that excitement, we really will need it moving forward. there will be many more bumps in the road and we need to be prepared (as a community) to address them together !!!

LG: In this era of social distancing, how do you think artists can support each other during these weird and difficult times? How do you think social media is facilitating and/or inhibiting connection within Seattle’s creative community?

MM: luckily thanks to the internet there are SO many ways to support our artist friends, if anybody is unsure of how to do so please reach out to me or any other artist, they will be so happy you asked ! whenever i can i try to purchase merch, support on websites like bandcamp where money goes (for the most part) directly to artists, and promote + support bipoc, trans, & queer artists. it never hurts to reach out, connection is so important to sustain any way possible right now. i think social media can be dangerous as far as connection goes, but right now i am seeing a lot of openness and offering of resources as we all wake up every day into the reality that there is this crazy virus taking over !!!!!! the internet and technology are completely shifting the direction of art and community, in some good ways and in some bad ways. we need to remember that social media is a tool and a resource firstly, and also that the people who designed these apps we use purposefully made them addicting, mostly through analyzing our own data and habits ! my hope is that as our brains gradually begin to adjust to these new devices and systems, we can let go of some of the isolation and anxiety that they bring up in us.

-Lola Gil

3 notes · View notes

muellercorn · 5 years

Text

Happy International Women's Day! These are women involved in theatre that I believe have paved the future for female artists. I think it would be apt for you to read their names and stories and then let me know women who inspire you in the theatre world and how you think they're shaping the future. Reblog if you see your inspirations and share their stories.

1. Jennifer Kirby. We may only be 3 months into 2019, but I'm ready to call Jennifer Kirby woman of the year. At age 30, I'd already consider her a veteran of the RSC, a company where she has portrayed so many Shakespearean females with a new found voice and personality. She first appeared on our screens in Call The Midwife in 2016 as Nurse Valerie Dyer. From the start Val has faced some of the most brutal storylines, most involving the rights of women and the working class, and been an absolute inspiration due to her brave and loving personality. However over the last 8 weeks she has been the pioneer character of the most powerful women's rights stories I've seen in entertainment ever. If it hadn't been for Kirby's authentic, sensitive performance and her deep understanding of the human condition from women who've walked different lives from her own, this storyline would not have had the impact that it has. She never complains about a hard storyline either, when interviewers ask how difficult scenes were, her response is always one of gratitude enthusiasm and excitement for the changes it could bring about in society. I believe this will be the start of more powerful storylines for women in the media and moreover I know her performance has had a real life effect on society, changing and developing people's opinions and giving them fresh eyes to see other people's experiences through with sympathy and care.

2. Jessie Mueller. During her Broadway career this far, Mueller has portrayed some of the most complex women with such heart and integrity. She has proven endlessly that vulnerability and strength can coexist. In 2016 Jessie won the Lilly Award (awards for females making a difference in society) for best actress following her run as Jenna in Waitress. A not was left in the theatre's lobby saying that Jessie's heartfelt performance helped a woman decide to leave the abusive relationship she was in. Additionally Jessie has done countless benefits for charities benefiting women, is an activist for equal rights and a dedicated educator. Jessie has defied type casting and shown us all that we are not defined by anything but our hearts and work ethic.

3. Ruthie Ann Miles. Strength, power, inspiration - Ruthie is the true embodiment of all these things. Moreover she spreads happiness and joy, ever since I watched her win her Tony I just felt this overwhelming sense of happiness. This woman spreads light everywhere she goes and never fails to make me brim with happiness and smiles. In today's world we need a light and Ruthie truly is that light.

4. Marianne Elliott. To me, Marianne Elliott is the best theatre director of our times. Directing is a profession that is predominantly male dominated and I believe that Elliott will be one of the key figures in changing that. Her love for her work is evident in the current revival of Company a true highlight of the theatre scene in recent years. Her integrity, leadership skills and incredible visions have led to a groundbreaking piece of theatre for women.

5. Rosalie Craig. Her incredible portrayal of the 'new' Bobbie in the 2018 Company Revival has given an in depth, layered portrayal of a woman who is unapologetic for her decisions and personal internal debates. Craig brings so much to this role that you don't see Bobbie as promiscuous like expected but rather as someone simply living life making her own calls and it's absolutely refreshing and unique to see. Furthermore her talent is so stellar that it is guaranteed to inspire a generation of young performers.

6. Katrina Lenk. Resilience strikes me when I think of Katrina Lenk. Her break came in her 40s, prior to this she was relatively unknown in the mainstream theatre world however she never stopped working. Women are ingrained to believe their value decreases as they age, especially in the arts, however Katrina has proven that this is not true. We gain experience, life lessons, emotional qualities, skills and ethics that helps us grow as people and performers. When I think of Katrina Lenk I think of someone so driven by love rather than fame. Additionally, through the characters she portrayed, Katrina has given a voice to so many women who's stories would typically go untold.

7. Jessie Nelson. A valued part of the first all female Broadway creative team for Waitress, Nelson wrote the book for the musical and in doing so helped create a masterpiece and a true gift for all women who feel their story doesn't matter. She comprehensively understands what it means to be female, the importance of female friendship and the responsibility that came with writing a script like this. Thanks to Nelson we have a musical that honours our stories and inspires us to go out and speak of our own experiences. She helped create the living proof that female stories sell and I'm sure we will see many more following in its footsteps.

8. Paula Vogel. Scriptwriter, Vogel, first came to my intention when I first watched Indecent on Broadway HD. The main two things that hit me regarding women's rights upon watching the play, was the portrayal of sexuality between Dina and Ruth outside of the internal play 'God of Vengeance', this relationship is powerful and much more emotionally based than trying to portray lesbian relationships as sexual items for men's pleasure as many arts still find acceptable. Additionally at the start of the play when describing the casting type of each troupe member, Vogel avoids attaching gender to the description starting the tone with the message they desire to continue with, equality for all.

9. Eva Noblezada. I will never forget Noblezada's performance as Kim, I remember being truly in awe and inspired. Then when learning how young she was I was admired at her dedication to travel thousands of miles from home at such a young age in true dedication to telling a story she believes in. Miss Saigon has a story line so beautifully reflective of the maternal side of women and Noblezada's performance portrayed this beautifully showing the true fierce strength that women posses.

10. Hailey Kilgore. A Tony award nomination at age 19! That is more than enough to inspire. Additionally the profound and positive outlook Kilgore has about the world is beyond beautiful and heartwarming.

11. Patti Murin. I admire anyone who speaks out about mental illness and Murin does so so candidly that it is unbelievably inspirational. It's a daunting thing to do because mental illness can be mistaken for being 'overly emotional' or 'unreliable' and I commend Murin for speaking out anyway knowing what she is risking because it will remind an entire generation who struggle with their mental health not to give up because of it. Despite her struggles Murin's work is incredibly joyful and can brighten up any day.

12. Sara Bareilles. Always dedicated to writing her truth, Bareilles has never cabed into the pressure of writing a traditional love song at times when it didn't feel authentic to her. Being motivated to make art rather than money, Sara Bareilles has written so many anthems for women reminding them to feel and fight. Furthermore she's proved that you don't have to write songs about men to sell music, authenticity leads to success.

13. Adrienne Warren. This woman is a force. She is currently giving everything she's got to bring the empowering story of Tina Turner to life 8 times a week in the west end. She is the driving force of a vital story for women in society and she treats it with the importance and passion it deserves. Furthermore her social media is dedicated to educating people about equality for all in society.

14. Marin Mazzie. In September 2018 Marin lost her battle to Ovarain cancer but her legacy will pass from generation to the next. Her dedication to what she loved during her battle is the epitome of female strength, additionally she committed time to activism and raising awareness of ovarian cancer. To me 'Back to Before' - Ragtime is the ultimate theatre anthem for women's rights and Marin's recording and perspective is so moving and empowering that it has the ability to motivate anyone who listens to change the world.

15. Bernadette Peters. A true theatre icon Peters has wrestled with all the names in the book, the classic term 'Diva' that was constantly thrown around when a woman was so powerful and successful in their field that people didn't know how to react. I don't think anything will stop this woman..... I mean did you see the press ups on The View, in high heels and a dress! Icon! Furthermore this was the week before her 70th birthday. I don't think Peters will ever age in spirit or appearance but she embraces her age regardless, the host with held her name but Peters made it clear that she feels age shouldn't be hidden from as our value does not decrease in anyway. Her work in theatre and charity should be inspirational to all.

16. Lindsay Mendez. Firstly I admire any women dedicated to educating and teaching, like Lindsay is. I could say a lot about Lindsay, but I feel she says it best herself. She is true to her identity, body positive and wants to represent everyday people through her art, as we all should if we consider art as a mirror to society.

“When I moved to New York, I was told to change my last name from Mendez to Matthews, or I wouldn’t work. I’m so proud to be part of a community that celebrates diversity and individuality … Be your true self and the world will take note.”

"When you hear you’re going to audition for “Dogfight,” the show about bringing ugly women to parties, you’re like, ‘Oh, great, thank you.’ But that’s also our dream as actors, to play someone else and give someone else a voice. I love this character so much."

17. Cobie Smulders. Whilst filming HIMYM Cobie was privately battling Ovarian Cancer, she beat it and later went on to defy odds by having her own children. Her dedication to her art during this time is a testimony to her strength and will. Furthermore during her time on the show Cobie brought to life incredibly moving stories specific to women in society giving them a voice. She has since gone on to have a successful career in film and theatre and has a large voice in social activism. Her accounts about her battle with ovarian cancer will help to give so much support to women going through similar difficult times and hopefully raise awareness in others so they're able to detect this illness in early stages.

18. Ella Fitzgerald. To me Ella is the American song book, she is the voice of all the Gershwin, Porter, Berlin musicals that came to follow. She gave a voice to a minority and inspired so many people. She continues to inspire people when ever you listen to recordings of her and feel the raw emotion. The modern musical stands on Ella's shoulders.

19. Audra McDonald. SIX TONY AWARDS. She's defied every odd and stereotype by purely working hard and being a truly good person. She's inspired many people and shown us all that anything is possible when you're prepared to prove people wrong. Furthermore she always takes time to thank and honour those who came before her, the people who's shoulders she stands on and that to me is what female empowerment is more than anything else.

20. Judy Garland. My personal inspiration and to be honest I struggle to articulate how she inspires me as it's more of an emotion than a string of thoughts. I just believe Garland strove for love, kindness and friendship over anything. I also believe her work is a sign of hope, no matter how she was treated she never gave in, she didn't stop doing what she loved because of the way she was treated she kept going. It's debatable if that's the right decision, but it doesn't matter as it was a strong decision and it was Judy's. I respect her an unbelievable amount for her voice, her heart and her perspective on the world. Imagine what would be if that sweet girl hadn't sang 'Over The Rainbow' all those years ago, and imagine even more what could have been if we saw Garland for the layered, complex human being she was rather than sweet and cheery Dorothy Gale. Personally whenever I get the chance to perform I always think of Garland before I step on stage, I thank her for her sacrifices to the art because it wouldn't be what it is today if it weren't for her, I don't think there will ever be a star as bright again. It's also to remember that whilst addiction and mental illness don't descriminate, Judy wouldn't have faced many of the issues she did if she wasn't a woman.

"Always be a first-rate version of yourself, instead of a second-rate version of somebody else."

The perspective we all should have had:

"I've always taken 'The Wizard of Oz' very seriously, you know. I believe in the idea of the rainbow. And I've spent my entire life trying to get over it."

I hope to hear of those who inspire you and I hope we all continue to inspire and empower each other. Alicia x

57 notes · View notes

jaerie · 5 years

Text

11/11/11

I was tagged by @phd-mama and @allwaswell16 and @chloehl10 so this is more like 33/11/11 hahaha I got a little carried away with this but I love answering stuff like this

Answer 11 questions, come up with 11 more, tag 11 people.

1. Tell me, do you like music on when you write??

No, I have to have silence. Or, you know, normal household noises. When I was in high school I listened to music with the tv on while doing my homework but now.... I think it’s moreso because I periodically close my eyes and visualize the scene or really throw myself into the character to get the emotions right and the music just takes away from that. I also hear music in a really complex way which I won’t explain here because this is about writing, but yea, it’s too much stimulation

2. Are you someone who plots everything out before you write it?

Absolutely not. I can count on my fingers the number of times I’ve actually plotted something for a fic in this fandom. I’m definitely a fly by the seat of my pants kind of writer. I generally have somewhere the fic is going, but I usually let the characters steer so sometimes it vectors off someplace I never expected it to go. That’s how so many of my better fics have gone. I did have to plot out As We Were, As We Are extensively because wow complex precise true to life timelines, but that’s really the only one I’ve actually done a real one for.

3. Do you write in chronological order?

Most of the time, yes. Occassionally I’ll jump down and write or start a scene that either inspired the whole fic or that I want to get down before I forget it, but I usually write from start to finish.

4. Do you like to eat while writing?

hahahahaha usually no. But only because I’ll get distracted and like.... not write....

5. Is there a trope you love?

I am a sucker for fake/pretend relationships. It’s so obviously one of the most predictable storylines but I’ll read every one of them. I don’t know why. The misunderstanding angst of it... I don’t know!

6. Have you written it? (See 5)

I don’t... think so... Is that bad I don’t remember? But I don’t think I have

7. Is there a trope you hate?

I can’t really do the sugar baby/daddy scenario... there are a few cases where it’s worked but in general, no.

8. Have you written it? (See 7)

I think there is a little bit of it in a couple maybe? And someone asked me to write one that’s still in my maybe pile... so I might.

9. Can you read your main ship with other pairings?

Depends. Usually yes because if it’s a pairing I don’t like I just kind of generically gloss over it in my mind a bit? Or imagine the same description but not that exact person? But there aren’t really a lot of absolute nos for me and it’s usually related to me not like that PERSON rather than the ship (taylor swift for example, have to really speed through fics with her in parts BUT like I said, it’s easy for me to imagine a likeness that’s not HER specifically. Idk). If it’s well written then it’s worth getting through it, if it’s not well written, I probably wouldn’t finish it anyway.

10. What’s a solid NO GO for you?

I don’t have many and most of them even have exceptions so I don’t know what a solid no is until I see a tag that’s a solid no?? And they’re the usual general niche things? (scat, watersports, idk those things) Hardcore bdsm-type is a no for me (but there have been some exceptions). MOST things that are nos for me like daddy kink, I can still read the fic, I just kind of... speed through those parts? I don’t really have any actual triggers... I don’t really read a lot of girl direction if they’re both girls. Which is a weird complicated issue for me because I WRITE IT. And there are some good ones out there that I have read but in general...? idk it’s weird and probably has a lot to do with me being sdpofijapsdgjoidsjfosdj about words for vagina rather than it actually being girls. But to be fair it took me years to be comfortable writing cock and dick without blushing and running off. I don’t know, it’s something about reading it that it usually isn’t my first choice. That was a long complicated answer just to say “not really”

11. Do you have a signature move, aka, let’s say for no particular reason, just because, coming in pants?

oh my god. Yes. Probably. I can’t think off of the top of my head but I definitely find myself returning to the same phrasing or words or actions. Especially when it comes to abo and knotting.

1. What’s your favourite fic you’ve ever written, and why?

Sisterwives and As We Were, As We Are I think because they are the two I put the most into. Plotting, planning, emotions, etc.

2. Pick three words that you think describe your works overall.

Problematic (lol), intense/emotional, sexual.

3. How long does it take you to write a fic?

Varies. I’ve written 20k+ in 24 hours and I’ve written 5k in a month. Really depends on what I’m working on and my emotional state of stress.

4. What’s the hardest thing about writing?

For me? Fluff and filler. And English. I’ve fallen into a pattern of writing that probably has a lot of errors in tense. But... it is what it is.

5. Do you listen to music or anything while you write? What’s normal for you when you write?

I answered this one in depth above

6. How do you come up with titles for your fics?

I have this terrible thing where I just name a fic and run and then regret it and want to change it once it’s already posted hahahahaha There are a handful that I’ve named after Hanson lyrics just because I think it’s funny... but most of the time there is no rhyme or reason to it.

7. What’s one piece of advice you’d give to a new writer?

Just keep writing. Because it’s easy to get discouraged about kudos and attention. Kudos and attention does NOT equal quality. It’s still something that I struggle with letting go, but as a new writer it’s more difficult not to see that as a failure. But my first fics in this fandom still have some pretty low kudos counts and my fics in other fandoms have as few as FIVE kudos. Five. I think they’re great fics, but I’m just not as known in that fandom/there aren’t as many readers. For example, I wrote this AWESOME Brokeback Mountain fic for the Hanson fandom and it has only 15 kudos.

8. How important do you think tags are when you are publishing a fic?

*gets up on soapbox* Tags are the most important part of publishing a fic. I am a firm believer that anyone can write anything the want as long as it is properly tagged. Proper tagging is the writer’s only responsibility to the reader. If those are in place, what follows doesn’t have to be tailored to anyone.

9. Do you write for fests/exchanges? If so, do you enjoy them? If not, why not?!

I have mixed feelings about this. I used to write for both. Now I exclusively write for fests and I’m selective about the ones I participate in. Why? Well for one, deadlines. I’ve made the mistake too many times of overcommitting and then nothing felt right and I was stessed about it and just... not good. As for exchanges... I’ve been burned in the past? By dropouts and such? Or by the giftee not liking or never reading the fic? Or by me needing to drop out for mental health reasons but not because I was writing FOR someone? I’ve done a handful of pinch hits since I swore off exchanges, but they’re too much anxiety for me personally. (I have had some good experiences with exchanges though!! Not all of them were bad!!)

10. Which work of yours are you most proud of and why?

As We Were, As We Are..... because.... DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH FRICKIN RESEARCH I DID FOR THAT FIC!? ALL WHILE WRITING IT DURING NANO?!?! I put soooooooo much into that fic that I’m sad it didn’t get much attention. It was written for the Alex exchange so Harry is written as Alex so that’s probably why. Some people have a big problem if fics aren’t written a certain way. I don’t know. I was really sad about that though. I LIVED in WWII for months with that fic and it will always be special to me. I’ve even thought about putting more work into into it to have it published somewhere. I know it’s not like... classic 1D fic quality or whatever but I think the bones of it are strong enough. I don’t know, I’m probably delusional. haha but I still like it

11. What’s next for you?

Oh man. Well. I said I was going to stop writing for this fandom. But then this rush of support came in and then I started to feel really spiteful and thought that I’d keep going just because of that... and I feel like I’m only just now gaining a following for my fics that keeps me motivated enough to keep improving... soooo I’ve committed to a few fests coming out this fall. I am also participating in Wordplay going on right now. The first fic comes out tomorrow I think. I also have some Sisterwives timestamps.

1. What fic have you written that you wish everyone would read?

dunkirk fic and sisterwives probably

2. What’s your favorite character you’ve ever written?

hahahahaha harry from one of my yet to be published sekret fics hahahahaha but I really love so many of them like shifter harry

3. What’s your most popular fic and why do you think it’s your most popular?

By Kudos? Where Do We Go Now. And I have no idea. Because I always have to click to even remember which one it is. And it was written so fast and I remember not liking where it went but just hit publish because it was a pinch hit... I honestly have no idea. Someone please give me insight on this because i have no idea.

4. What’s one of your favorite fan fics that you haven’t written?

I kind of answered this above but I’ll also say The Wilds because it wrote so fast. I wrote the whole thing in under 24 hours

5. What is your current WIP about?

Ummmmm Some of them are going to be posted on anon I think? So I’ll just say Thor Harry

6. What is a fic that you hope to write someday?

siiiiigghhhhhhhh my Almost Famous au

7. Do you read fics from other fandoms? Which ones?

I read a lot of Thorki... and random fandoms. I love to read a lot of fucked up shit just for the shock value of it?? I don’t know, I’m weird like that. So I started branching out to general tag searches so I’ve read stuff from tons of fandoms that I don’t even know what they are. I think Supernatural is one I frequent a lot because they have some real fucked up fics.

8. What author or book has influenced you as a writer?

Sooooo There was a writer that really sparked my creativity back when I was in a different fandom. But then they disappeared from that fandom and I ran into them as a popular figure in the 1D fandom but they’re kind of hated in the fandom now?? so I won’t say their name. BUT in the other fandom, they had this fic that I still go back and read to this day every once in a while. It was intense, a lil fucked up, and just... yeah. The kind that sticks with you.

9. What’s one of your favorite books from when you were a child?

Island of the Blue Dolphins. Which I reread a few years ago and ??? idk I was a weird child. I mean I didn’t think it was a BAD book

10. What’s an au/trope that you thought you didn’t like until you read one and loved it?

Harry Potter AUs? haha I’m sure there are more than that because there have been a LOT I didn’t think I’d enjoy and then I loved... OH THE TIME TRAVELER AU. I don’t remember why but I didn’t read that foreeeeever because I didn’t think it was my thing.

11. Choose one: angst or fluff?

angst. this isn’t even a question.

Wow. I probably spent too much time on that. If you’ve made it this far, kudos for sticking in there through my ramblings.

Let’s see.

1. What is the most problematic concept in one of your fics?

2. Mpreg. Yey or ney and why.

3. What aspect of a fic can you write but not read?

4. What aspect of a fic can you read but not write?

5. What fic is your most popular?

6. Is it a fic that surprises you or is it one you wish was not as popular?

7. Is there an exchange/fest that you didn’t write for that you wish you would have?

8. Do you write in any other fandoms?

9. What was the first fandom you started writing for?

10. Do you write other pairings other than your main?

11. What projects are on the back burner?

Omg this was so hard. um.... @tragic---love @wendydarlingfics @reminiscingintherain ummmmmm omg tagging people gives me such anxiety bc i feel like i’m annoying. its a struggle. back at cha @chloehl10

#11/11/11

1 note · View note

the-colony-roleplay · 5 years

Photo

Henry Liamson-Turner | Fifty Five; Elite

House: Calyset Status: Uninfected Elite Specification: International Trade Executive Alignment: New Wave Reformists

History

Yvonne made him a better, stronger man—a fact Henry Liamson-Turner told his wife time and time again, and he swore by it until the day she died.

Before Yvonne, he’d had little else of value. Little that made him feel anything at all. Henry’s father, Nat Liamson, was a cutthroat business man, spearheading an investment management firm called Liamson & Taylor Investment Group. His mother, Siobhan Turner, a political trophy wife. Growing up, Henry had little in common with either of them, but his father was a manipulative force to be reckoned with, and Henry spent the better part of his life working towards a career in Business Technology. He wasn’t passionate about it, but he was good at it, and the venture set him on a path apart from the family business, while also keeping his father more or less off his back: it was a career that would bring in excellent capital and be good for the family name. It would perhaps even present an opportunity in the future to join forces, which wasn’t something Henry wanted, but if it kept his opinionated father happy and quiet, Henry would let him believe whatever he liked.

He met Yvonne while getting his Master’s at the University of Melbourne. She took his breath away with her passion, her strong sense of self, her unfailing empathy. An artist, a teacher, a storyteller, she was everything he wasn’t and he admired her for it in bounds. They were married as soon as she graduated—and after a three year engagement, he was sure that their wedding would remain the single best day of his life. As it turned out, the best day of his life was actually that fateful evening two years later, when he came home to find her standing by the door to greet him with tears in her eyes—and a positive pregnancy test in her hand.

The worst day of his life, however, came almost exactly seven months later.

He wasn’t the same after she died. Though words could not describe how grateful he was that their baby boy survived the complicated delivery, at a scary six weeks premature, Yvonne’s death crippled him. Henry was terrified about raising their son without his wife’s gentle, level-headed touch, and he couldn’t even imagine his life without her in it.

After that, Felix Tate Turner became his most precious ambition and number one priority in his life. He was determined to give his son everything he deserved out of childhood—which included sending him to the prestigious private school Yvonne had always dreamed of for him, and working overtime to get that promotion so he could afford to pull out all the stops for his son.

But working as much as he did meant that young Felix spent a lot of time with the Nanny—and though she was lovely, hardworking, and excellent with Fee, it did mean that Henry felt he had a lot of making up to do in terms of time spent with his son. As Felix grew up and showed a natural inclination towards the more domestic disciplines in life, Henry adapted with him. It was actually a delight to see him grow into such a reflection of the mother he’d never met, both in looks and temperament. So he signed Felix up for anything the boy showed an interest in, be it dance, piano or vocal lessons, and he went out of his way to personally teach Fee how to cook, bake—even sew. More than that, he made it his prerogative to attended painting or sculpting or cake decorating classes with him whenever he could. Whatever Felix wanted, Henry set out not only to do for him, but to do with him. Henry strived to be a part of Felix’s life in a way his own father had never done for him.

Unfortunately, good intentions are about as much of a guarantee as best laid plans. Because Henry never really bounced back after the trauma of losing his wife. He did not feel he could turn to his family for support, and he was so preoccupied with proving himself, that he never took the time to get the help he so needed. Grief and PTSD compounded with extreme stress and exhaustion from the hours he poured into his work, and it meant that despite how hard he tried, despite the good times he had with his son, there were many more where a ten year old Felix would come downstairs to find his father a sobbing heap, curled up on the kitchen floor.

Henry’s neglected mental health affected Felix’s life a lot more than Henry was willing to admit. And once he did get that promotion, he began to miss recitals and parent-teacher meetings, forget to pick him up from school or about the promise he’d made to take him to that play he’d been looking forward to for months. Despite his almost overwhelming support when Felix came out to him as gay at around fourteen, none of it was enough. Felix had already learned to create distance from his father in order to protect himself, and Henry no longer knew how to bond or connect with him.

A talented and beautiful boy, Felix’s teenage life took him to exciting places after that, never a dull moment for him as he pursued a career in modelling and music entertainment. Henry supported him every step of the way, in whatever way he knew how and though he never gave up on trying to keep Felix close, it seemed that the harder he tried, the further he drove his son away.

Henry Today

Henry had been at the Sydney Airport waiting for Felix to arrive when D-Day hit. The following hour was one of the most panicked in his life, because he’d had no way to be sure Felix’s plane had even landed safely. He still remembers with nightmarish detail, seeing the airline status on the screens above his head momentarily flash with a green ‘arrived’—before the entire row of televisions had been blown apart by falling, flaming chaos. For a horrifying moment that had felt like an eternity, he thought those falling rocks had been pieces of Felix’s plane.

Their reunion remains the most relieved Henry has ever been in his entire life. With a petite, seventeen year old Felix shaking and crying in his arms, Henry now had a reason to bother trying to survive the horror raining down around them. Together they journeyed slowly towards Penrith, where they’d heard lied some refuge from some of the flooding and destruction of the more coastal cities. Eventually, they were welcomed into a group of survivors who’d turned an apartment complex into a safe haven of sorts—many months later, that complex would become Colony 30.

During the build and rise of the Colony system and their international communications and collaborations, Henry’s business expertise paved the way for him to become one of the original founders and minds behind the inter-colony Cargo and Trade Agreement. For the first time in his life, he was doing work he was truly passionate about. Work that was of the utmost importance, not only for his and his son’s future, but for humanity’s. Together with representatives all over the world, he helped to make the Colony system the growing and prospering framework that it was—right up until the New Wave Reformists took over.

Henry hadn’t been a difficult person for them to manipulate—his son was his greatest weakness, and with how openly he wore that on his sleeve, he made himself an easy target for the NWRF. They fed right into concerns he’d already harboured for years: whether Felix was safe among the Infected. All these unpredictable Deluded, those desperate and deranged Looters and the erratic behaviour of some of these lost souls wielding power they knew nothing about—power no one knew anything about—it was alarming and precarious territory. And when the Second Falling came about, bringing with it a second wave of Infection cases, he realized that Felix was vulnerable not only to the hands of some dangerous survivors, but also to becoming Infected himself. What if he became Deluded? What if he woke one morning screaming with migraines and pain as so many of the others had, and Henry could do nothing to stop it?

And so when the NWRF argued their cause and used the threat of his son’s safety as leverage, they had him eating out of their hands in no time. Protecting Felix had always been the single most important thing to him, and so if the Reformists were going to find a way to control the Infections, that was something he wanted to be a part of. Since the NWRF rise, he has continued with his work as a International Trade Executive, and is now also acting as a direct liaison between the Colony Elite systems and the NWRF organization. In late 2162, he requested a transfer to the UK, hoping he might be able to locate his sister-in-law who was living in England at the time of D-Day, which is how he came to be at Colony 22.

Henry’s position with the NWRF means that he is often putting on a front of strength and resilience with his work—but he is softer by nature than anyone expects of him, and his moments of weakness often come as a surprise to those who’ve not known him for a long time—which, at Col22, is literally everyone. Over the years, the stability of his position has given Henry something to focus on, and necessity allowed for him to regain some of his previously lost self control—but time has not in fact done him the favours he’d hoped it would, in terms of his mental health. He is still emotionally erratic and vulnerable, and though he cares a great deal about his work, liaising with the NWRF is stressful, especially as rebellions and unrest bubble beneath their feet.

Felix too, remains a constant concern—though his son denies it, Henry is fairly certain that Fee is still struggling with an eating disorder he’d developed in his early teenage years, and vain and self-centred as he is, he doesn’t make friends easily. It makes Henry worry even more about the emotional distance between them, because he doesn’t know that Felix will have anyone to go to in times of need. D-Day has arguably brought them closer than they were, but their relationship is far from smooth and despite Henry’s apparently tireless attempts to please his son, Felix is headstrong and difficult, and they bicker frequently.

RELATED BIOS: FELIX TATE TURNER

OPEN

#tom cavanagh #tom cavangh fc #literate rp #original rp #apocalypse rp #henry liamson-turner #nwrf #calyset #open #male #uninfected #elite #open male #open elite #open uninfected #open male elite #open male uninfected #international trade executive

1 note · View note

jflashandclash · 5 years

Text

Traitors of Olympus IV: The Fall of the Sun

Twenty-Eight: Calex

If All Your Friends Jump Off a Cliff…

Calex wanted nothing to do with this. He wanted to be back at home, at his flat in St. Albans. There, he would be sipping a cup of tea, eating some of Winston’s terrible attempts at supper that he made when Tiwa was running late at the hospital, and hearing Gretchen complain about boys and Tom tease her.

He wished he’d never learned who his biological father was, never read about the adventures of Percy Jackson and the Heroes of Olympus, and never stepped foot in America.

He didn’t know what he was to do.

Then again, both Reyna and Axel had directed him to the same task: go to Euna. Just what to do when he got there eluded him.

Before he could mutter something about how Axel may have bollixed his chances with Reyna, he stumbled away from their fight.

The two warriors clashed into each other, a scrambling mess of golden armor blackened by dried blood to a dull mustard, like they’d decided to have a good ol’ scrum in a pool of black pudding.

He didn’t know which one of them to help and doubted he could help regardless. Their movements were so fast, so brutal that he knew he would just get in the way. Besides, especially with his Eros gifts, he knew their fight was a tad personal and not something he’d want to interrupt.

He walked towards Euna, careful to step around the vines linked back to her. He edged around Thalia’s swearing, shifting, angry cocoon. He didn’t want to know what kind of butterfly he’d emerge if these vines captured him.

Euna pocketed Persephone’s box and held a hand out towards him.

The updraft was violent. His scarf fluttered up and smacked him in the face as he approached. The roar was deafening, though he thought he heard a crackled hum alongside it.

Despite their surroundings, or maybe enhanced by the bleakness of their surroundings, Euna’s loveliness was distracting. She looked older, colder. Her skin glowed faintly. Red, spiky flowers, trumpeted purple ones, and tiny, white bell ones dangled from her hair and clothes, tenderly brushing against her skin. Dark purple berries, and clustered brilliant red ones formed a crown along her head. From what Calex vaguely remembered from the Alnwick Gardens, all of those were toxic. Vines were the only thing keeping her tattered outfit together, and Calex had an uncomfortable moment of wondering whether Euna was puppetting the vines or they were puppetting her.

“Right, Euna. Hey,” he said lamely, taking her hand, hoping he wouldn’t immediately pass out from the poisons. How his journey would end, unconscious by the pit of Kaos: There and Not Back Again: a Story about a Dumb Prick by Calex Rupin McKenzie.

Her hand was rough.

He remembered her distant gaze when he’d given Euna her first kiss and how taken aback she was with their godly audience. (And, how he’d been more than a bit mortified that she’d taken a fancy to a woman right after, though Calex knew it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Thalia.)

Before, her dark eyes were always distant, bored. Now, they were focused, radiating hatred.

He’d been more than a bit worried about her since Santiago killed Joey. But he never knew how to help.

Now he could.

“We’re going to jump,” she said.

Calex swallowed. “I don’t follow.”

Her gaze shifted over the cliff.

Calex looked down. “Vertigo” was too weak a word to describe the rushing sensation he felt, the loss of self when confronted with the reality below him. This was like comparing a glance down a faucet to a glance over a cliff off Mount Everest. Except, in this case, Mount Everest was the faucet.

It was like the world just ended. When Calex thought about what he learned in Camp Half-Blood’s mythology classes, the world did end here, like those silly old illustrations of ships finding the edge of the ocean and tumbling into nothing.

At first, Calex thought the thing beneath him was black and dark. Upon blinking, slowing his breathing, and tapping into his demigod focus, he knew it was all colors, swirling and colliding so violently and rapidly as to blur and appear a swirling vortex of nothing: a cycle of existence and destruction. A creature that—with each exhale—created and eviscerated with the same attention as Calex paid to blinking.

The updraft and abrupt suction of air wasn’t any wind. Kaos itself was spawning new particles.

No wonder Hera had screamed when Zeus hung her over Kaos. Nothing like forcing an immortal to face its own unimportance.

“We’re going over the edge,” Euna reiterated.

Calex squeezed her hand. He was glad she had offered hers to him. Had he not been holding her, he was scared he’d slip over the edge, gawking and forgetting, by comparison of the gargantuan thing beneath him, that he even existed or mattered. If he did at all.

“Did you have to put it to words?” he whispered. Cold sweat broke out on his brow. Calex swallowed again. He forced his eyes away from the eminent evisceration and rebirth, glancing at Euna, who seemed unaffected by the gravity of Kaos. “Wait,” he said, “Euna, before we get ripped to pieces by that… thing beneath us, can you promise me something?”

Her cold eyes examined him curiously. Unlike the others, it was clear she wasn’t on a time schedule. He guessed a godly killing spree didn’t need a special date or RSVP.

Calex felt like he was supposed to say this isn’t what Joey would have wanted, but this was EXACTLY what the overdramatic girl would have wanted. Except, maybe, with a musical number with the pit of Kaos as a DJ scratch booth. Not—as Calex finally identified—the hum of a decapitated head dangling off Euna’s belt.

He shook his head. “Assuming we live through this and all that unlikeness, we’re going topside to save the camp, slog Phobetor in his stupid piggy face, make sure Kally, Merry, and the others are okay, and then we’re going to get some pizza afterwards and have a long chat before you decide to jump off any other cliffs,” he said, “There are other ways to mourn.”

Euna’s sternness broke at the mention of lunch. Although it had to be his imagination with the roar of Kaos, he could have sworn he heard Euna’s stomach growl. She pulled his hand in, so she could touch her belly. She frowned. “I really should have eaten more before this. And taken a nap. Add napping to the end of that list.”

If Euna threw fists when members of Cabin Four tried to wake her from training, he’d be terrified for the poor bloke that tried to wake Euna after a plotting-the-destruction-of-the-gods nap.

“We’ll have to get you another shirt along the way, least you kill Axel and Thalia with embarrassment.”

“My shirt?” Euna asked, confused.

“Is torn,” he said.

Euna glanced down. “Ah.” She shrugged. “So it is. I don’t know why that would bother either of them.”

Calex shook his head, almost smiling from her aloofness. This was still their Euna. “Shall we then? Lovely day for a dive. Or night. I have no real concept of what time it is.”

Something slithered up along his legs to his hips. For a horrified moment, he thought he’d miss-stepped onto one of Euna’s traps. Then the vines pushed him against Euna.

“If we get separated, you die,” she said as the vines laced their legs together. He was grossed out that Jack’s humming head bumped his thigh.

Not that there aren’t 50 other things that will make me die here, he thought.

Calex was already scared of tripping over the edge. Now he frantically struggled to keep his footing. For an absurd moment, he wanted to protest that he was covered in blood and would get Euna dirty, since that was clearly high on her priority list. Euna was shorter than him, and their proximity brought the poison berries to his chin height. Her hair tickled his throat and he got lightheaded when he inhaled the sickly sweet scent from one of the white flowers. Angel’s Trumpet, a devil of a flower, he remembered an Alnwick tour guide warning.

She released his hand to hold up the rosewood box from her pocket. “Calex, I need you to make a tiny portion of Kaos fall madly in love with this box. Jack—” She glanced down, her face brushing Calex’s chest. “I need you to keep the rest of Kaos from getting near the box. Or us.”

Jack had been humming Poison by Alice Cooper. A real oldie Calex knew from Winston. “Aye, aye, Captain Euna! That sounds like something I might be able to do.”

“That’s it then? Make the primordial god of creation fall in love with a small, wooden box?” Calex asked, trembling. He swallowed a third time. His head already felt like it was spinning, though he couldn’t tell if that was from the toxic fumes, the terror, the continued vertigo, or the annoyance of remembering Jack was a real person and not a Halloween decoration. “I’ll need use of my bow, then.”

He was too close to Euna, and he didn’t think he could wrap his arms around her and shoot behind her back. The scythe might also get in the way once they were falling. He unslung Soul Pain from his back and awkwardly held it to the side.

“I’ll make us tied back-to-back once we’ve fallen and we know the vines are secure. You’re going to want these.” She placed something gooey in his free hand, then tapped her ear.

When he stared down, he could see something that resembled plant goop.

“I’ve got some lungs on me. Well, I don’t anymore, but I’m still a loud Jackie-boy,” Jack explained, and Calex could hear him grinning.

Earplugs? Calex hoped these earplugs weren’t also poisonous, though at this point, he more hoped that Thanatos would still collect his soul here before it got turned to particle rubbish and that the god of Death wouldn’t chicken out since Calex would die so close to Kaos.

When Calex pressed some of the goop to his left ear, the liquid seemed sentient, sliding in and clinging to his eardrum. The roar of Kaos, Jack’s humming, and the shouts and clang from Axel and Reyna’s fight dulled to a muffle. He pressed the remaining gunk onto his other earlobe, on standby. He wasn’t quite ready to lose all hearing.

“Ready?” Euna asked, her dark eyes burning.

Calex knew he was missing something vital. Euna had said mad love. Calex didn’t know mad love. He knew the fan-boy love he had for Percy and Annabeth, but there were healthy limits to that, despite Pax’s claims. Dare he call his feelings for Merry love? If it was, it wasn’t mad. He’d been careful not to let his feelings for her get out of control, out of respect that she didn’t fancy him quite the same way or at least wasn’t at a point in her life where she’d want the kind of love he had to offer.

He’d accidentally imbued Thanatos with mad love, but that was a whim of survival. Maybe he could do it again, or maybe he’d flop and be screaming, “Bollix!!” as Kaos shredded them.

No, Calex needed a solid example to pull this off.

Another shout and clang came from the darkness near them, and Calex understood why Reyna and Axel were necessary for this quest.

“I need to borrow something from you! Sorry, mates!” he said.

Calex closed his eyes and expanded his senses. Everyone turned to colors and he glanced past Euna’s fury, Thalia’s irritation, and Jack’s excitement.

A tugging hit his gut when he felt it: the irrational combination of respect, frustration, anger, passion, insecurity, wistfulness, benevolence, and desperation. Like a chemist listing off ingredients, Calex knew the missing element that kept the combination so volatile: trust. The perfect instability for what he needed.

Calex mentally reached out and grabbed.

Although he couldn’t hear them or see them, he could feel Axel and Reyna crumble as he robbed them, concentrating what was theirs into the palm of his hand.

The emotion burned there, along the tips of his fingers. When he opened his eyes, he could see his fingers glowed a violent shade of red.

“He’s got blood in his eyes,” Jack sang and Calex knew his eyes were the same shade.

Calex nudged his palm against his ear, shoving the rest of the goop into his ear canal. The noises around them faded to murmurs. All he could hear was his own heartbeat and feel the thudding of Euna’s against his chest. Calex clenched his fists, one around the volatile emotions, one around Soul Pain.

“Let’s go take part of Kaos,” he whispered.

Euna stared at him steadily.

Then she lifted Kronos’ scythe. The weapon was the only thing balancing them. They tumbled over the edge of the cliff, towards the swirling gap underneath the world, to steal a sliver of a primordial god, or get shredded in the process.

Thanks for reading guys! I hope you enjoyed :D Tune in next week for Calex: When Your Spell Works Too Well.

#Traitors of Olympus #Heroes of Olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #fanfiction #Calex #Axel #Reyna #Thalia #Euna #Kaos

3 notes · View notes

alun-ura · 5 years

Text

Prompt #6: Free Music: X Mentions @yuu-meiken

Kugane was a living maze of narrow irregular streets, as complex as a heart; the streets were like veins and the people were like blood. It was Alun's first time seeing a place like such, the constant sound of people talking, merchants trying to get customers attention, the sudden laugh of drunk patrons on the hostelry, it was a harmonious and repetitive pounding that warned you: the town was alive. She couldn't remember the last time she had a good night's rest, probably when she napped when leaving the Ruby Sea after a most peculiar rendezvous with an equally peculiar individual.

It was another sleepless night as she wandered around the city, getting used with its noise and shapes as the sounds guided her to where she sought. Until there was no familiar sight, no sound other than the muffled talk inside a few establishments and maybe distant cicadas, even the light was somehow distrusting. Alun was definitely lost, it wasn't the first time either but the city looked different during the night, enough to make stress boil up inside her, unsure where to go before the coming sound of wooden sandals clacking, getting louder and louder until it stopped entirely.

In the corner of her eye, she saw a pearly white woman and Alun reflexively looked back, frowning as she kept staring, not sure if that stranger was looking at her or something else, she was alarmed enough to the point of wondering if that pure white lady was some kind of specter, the fear was pilling up as Alun silently panicked, hastily waving at that person that just stood there, silently gazing in that direction. Even after that, she kept staring for a moment longer, long enough to make Alun worry that it was actually a ghost ready to murder her, she was paralyzed in awe whilst something happened to that ghost's face, it seemed like an awful attempt to smile, one that made the Xaela shiver as she was ready to run away, though the thought was forgotten as soon as the ghost lowered her head, apologetically. "Ah, I did not mean to offend. I do not often see Xaela beyond the Steppe, I was surprised."

A whimper almost escaped her lips and was soon replaced by a relieved sigh, unsure of what that person wanted, the only thing she was certain is how people outside of the Steppes were weird. Relief soon shifted into confusion as that woman was suddenly bowing and finally saying something. "Ah-- No, you didn't. " Alun muttered as she moved closer to that stranger, relaxing a bit now that she was sure there was no ghost or entities waiting to kill her. "Is that a bad thing? It's my first time too, seeing one of your kind this... close." Alun kept staring at that Raen's face, it was her first time seeing one up close, she didn't know much about them except there was a tribe back in the Steppes that accepted them.

"Most assuredly, it is not. Hingashi welcomes all to its port... Though, they are much more receptive to your visit if you've something to line their pockets with." Alun kept staring at the woman as she shrugs her shoulders, her white lips parted to say more, but a shallow breath brought them to seal anew. Alun focused on that woman's words, listening closely while wondering if there were any places at all that wouldn't welcome people, some tribes of the Steppes would certainly not welcome strangers but things were different here so she never put too much thought about something like that. Her eyes were once again fixated on that woman's face, following to her eyes as she heard the word Hingashi. "Really? I wonder why that vendor wasn't interested then... " She muttered to herself in frustration, staring back at the raen. "Do you live here? What's your name?" She asked carelessly, forgetting that she was lost just a moment ago, that person was way more interesting than trying to her way around the city. "Yuu Meiken." Her hand raised as she introduced herself. "I do not live here. I am passing through. I mean to make for Doma when the opportunity presents itself."

"Yuu... Mine's Alun!" She said with an eager smile, dropping her tribe's name while admiring how easy it was to actually talk to that person, how different it was from her previous encounters. "Is it that.. liberated place? I heard people talking about it back home but I wasn't sure what it means. What are you going to do there?" Alun pondered about that place, one of the many things she barely heard of. "Yes, Doma is liberated anew. It is south of the Steppes; within the mountains, almost. It was little more than a ruin when I had left." She paused, though only for Alun's sake. "Have you had anything to eat since you've arrived?" Alun couldn't understand why Yuu was asking that until she felt the clench in her stomach, followed by a muffled growl that was once forgotten during her strolls through Kugane.

It didn't take long to find an establishment, Yuu knew her way around the city, unlike Alun. The night went on as they ate all kinds of things that Alun never tasted, some sweeter than others as the Xaela struggled with the spicier ones, whilst they talked about Doma, Garleans, a land of deserts, massive forests with giant trees, a den of piracy nestled atop glistening spires of white to mighty fortresses, castles filled with men and dragon and above them; limitless expanse in the Sea of Clouds, ridden with enough magick that land somehow floats both above and within the cloud sea.

Alun's eyes were taken by distinct excitement, staring in amazement as Yuu described those places. She couldn't even hide her enthusiasm, grinning while imagining a sea of clouds, floating pieces of land and hidden fortresses, that night filled the Xaela with an unbreakable resolution, as she was sure she was going to see all of it with her own eyes one day.

#ffxivwrite2018 #writing #mmmmmmmmmmmMMM #I WANTED TO WRITE MORE BUT IT I S LO NG #AND ITS LA TE #BUT YA #THANKS YUUUUUUUUUUU

6 notes · View notes

billokekeeducatinginart · 6 years

Text

Memory Write Up

1) In the first session we were introduced to how the human brain remembers stuff and learn.

Firstly we were introduced to the several of types an individual learns which are: visual, auditory, verbal, physical and logical.

After it we were given some words in an order, which we had to try and memorize which were:

Apple Tree

Lion

Mouse

Car

Crown

King

And some others I do not remember.

Learning is the acquisition of knowledge or skills through study, experience, or being taught.

To improve learning you could do it in 10 different ways:

· Focus on the relevance of what you’re learning

· Take time to reflect and self-explain

· Use a variety of learning data

· Change things up as often as possible

· Identify any gaps in your knowledge

· Establish clear learning goals

· Practice generalising

· Make your learning social

· Use analogies and metaphors

· Find daily opportunities to apply what you’ve learned

Also to improve your memory you can, give your brain a workout memory requires to use it or lose it.

1. Don't skip the physical exercise

2. Get sleep

3. Make time for friends

4. Keep stress in check

5. Have a laugh

6. Eat a brain-boosting diet

7. Identify and treat health problems

8. Take practical steps to support learning and memory

2) Studies on the brain:

Memory has been the subject of investigation among many 20th Century psychologists and remains an active area of study for today’s cognitive scientist.

The Theory of memory known as the multistore model was proposed by Richard Atkinson and Richard Shiffrin in 1968. This model suggested that information exists in one of 3 states of memory: the sensory, short term and long term storage Information passes from one stage to the next the more we rehearse it in our minds, but can fade away if we do not pay enough attention to it.

Information enters the memory from the senses - for instance, the eyes observe a picture, olfactory receptors in the nose might smell coffee or we might hear a piece of music. This stream of information is held in the sensory memory storage and because it consists of a huge amount of data describing our surroundings, we only need to remember a small portion of it. As a result, most sensory information decays and is forgotten after a short period of time. A sight or sound that we might find interesting captures our attention, and our contemplation of this information - known as rehearsal - leads to the data being promoted to the short memory storage, where it will be held for a few hours or even days in case we need access to it.

The short-term memory gives us access to information that is salient to our current situation, but is limited in its capacity.

Some information regarding people that we have met, important life events and other important facts makes it through the sensory and short-term memory stores to reach the long term memory.

Memory in Genders

In general, males are better at spatial tasks involving mental rotation, but females have superior verbal skills.

Males are far more likely to pursue math or science careers.

Gender differences in math are not consistent across nations or ages.

A number of imaging studies have demonstrated that the brains of males and females show different patterns of activity on various tasks.

Nicotine has been shown to differentially alter men's and women's brain activity patterns so that the differences disappear.

Both oestrogen and testosterone have been shown to affect cognitive function.

Training has been shown to bring parity to differences in cognitive performance between the sexes.

Age also alters the differences between men and women.

A lot of studies in recent years have demonstrated that oestrogen is an important player in women's cognition. Spatial ability in particular seems vulnerable to hormonal effects.

This studies go on unto different fields of study such as memory in animals and children.

Researchers are finding exciting new evidence to suggest that men and women don't simply appear different, they're actually wired differently, too. Researchers are quick to point out that there is no calculable research to suggest that one gender is more intelligent than another.

However, there are some structural differences that may explain why men are generally better at remembering driving directions and women are generally better at remembering emotional events like anniversaries and weddings.

In kids brains when children learn and remember things they experienced as babies or toddlers, such as the alphabet song, this knowledge is considered “implicit” memory. The average age of the first “explicit “memory that can be recalled by an adult is not until about three and half years old, on average. An episodic memory plays out in the mind like a story. The preverbal diaper years that precede the first episodic memory are usually lost somewhere in the ether, a phenomenon referred to as “infantile” or “childhood amnesia.” Experts agree that older children and adults don’t typically retain memories from this period because the memories were made before language was a big part of their lives.

Mainly in kids before the age of 7 they experience a strange phenomenon known as childhood amnesia. Kids can remember events before the age of 3 when they’re small, but by the time they’re a bit older, those early autobiographical memories are lost. New research has put the starting point for amnesia at age 7.

From a site I found out that: (Over the next 6 years, different groups of children came back at age 5, 6, 7, 8, or 9 to the lab and were questioned by the scientists on the events that happened when they were 3. Since the researchers knew the details of the events, they were able to probe exactly how much the kids remembered -- and how they spoke about the memories.

The result? If the kids were between 5 and 7 at time of second interview, they remembered over 60% of events, Bauer tells Kinder Lab. But the children who were 8 and 9 remembered 40% or fewer of the events, and they had begun to talk about their memories in a different way.

“We think that it has to do with basic biological processes, as neural structures undergo a lot of postnatal development,” says Bauer. “Early in development those structures are working, but not very efficiently -- children are forming memories, but through natural processes those are fading and becoming inaccessible. By the time you reach adulthood, those memories are working very effectively.”)

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/02/080220104244.htm

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0887617702001622

https://classroom.synonym.com/difference-between-boys-girls-memory-5244222.html

https://www.popsci.com/blog-network/kinderlab/birth-memory-why-kids-forget-what-happened-age-7#page-2

https://www.todaysparent.com/toddler/toddlers-memory/

Different Style of learning and teaching

The problem between teaching and students learning is that each teacher has a particular style and so do most students.

The problem is that teachers and students don’t always match.

You may notice that children learn differently than you do causing you to question why they’re not as interested or not “catching on” the same way you did at their age.

Also people wonder why some teachers were “better” teachers than others or why you liked a certain subject over another.

These are actually very important information to know. Educational science has studied these questions for years and has determined that when some individuals struggle with learning it may be entirely a question of how they are being taught.

People now a days have different learning styles and different ways to learn that why some teachers used variety of teaching methods as everyone is different for example some use visual learning methods such as images, pictures, and spatial understanding.

Whilst others use learning styles such as Aural, Verbal, Physical, Logical, Social and Solitary.

https://www.time4learning.com/learning-styles.shtml

1 note · View note