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vanchlo · 4 years

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Guitar Talk

Blurb Synopsis: Although thousands of miles away, you wouldn’t give up guitar lessons with your boyfriend, Niall, for anything. Even if he can be a little shit.

Genre: Lots of fluff, although a little sad.

Word Count: 4.5k words

Pairing: Niall x Reader

The red circle blinks in front of your eyes. Your eyes flit to your hands that begin to move effortlessly, music coming from them. Well, actually it’s coming from the guitar strings you play. Picking the strings, you play a D suspended chord before moving to the G major 7. A smile bends your lips when you play the next chord, B minor 7 without a hiccup, and the A suspended chord too. But when you get to the G major 6 chord, your fingers struggle with where to go on the strings. You stop there and make a funny face at the camera. The red circle stops blinking and you exhale, feeling the nerves worsen.

Now your fingers tap along the screen, a message composing before your eyes.

Does this sound better?

With the guitar sitting in your lap, you hit the send button. Saving the message, you swipe over to the home screen. After viewing a few snaps from friends, you reply with random selfies and messages. When you return to the home screen, the arrow in front of his name is empty. Opening the conversation again, his little brunette haired bitmoji pops up. A white cloud above his head with an ellipses appears too. Niall is typing, it says. The sound of a bubble popping greets your ears and new words appear.

sounds good luv. but looks like ur struggling with that last chord. here’s a tip - the 2nd time u play the lil sequence through, use the same finger to press down for the same two notes on that string. way easier than adding another finger to the mix. does that make sense ? xx

Your eyebrows knit together over your tired eyes. Rubbing them doesn’t help, because the words in front of you still don’t make sense. Holding your thumb down on the message, you tap Save. It’s always annoyed you how you can never remember what was said last time in a snapchat conversation, if you don’t save it. Exhaling, you try to read through his message again, but the second time isn’t the charm. No, not when Niall starts talking in guitar language. One you’ve just started to learn, with his help. But it’s always been easier for him to teach you guitar when it’s not over fricken Snapchat, you think to yourself with a silent groan. You’re tempted to go and put the guitar back on the stand in the corner where you’ve wanted to leave it since he left. But you try to play that sequence over again, but once again you mess up. Your phone chimes again with the popping noise.

Snapchat from Niall

Dragging your thumb across the screen, you sigh from frustration.

hello luv ? did u try that ? xx

Tossing your phone onto your bed, you set the acoustic guitar on the mound of bed covers. Padding out of the room in your fuzzy socks, you turn down the hallway. Even though it’s been almost two weeks, you still can’t get used to how quiet the house is without him.

Usually there would be a football match on the tv, his singing or guitar playing echoing throughout the house, or him blasting music while working out or cooking. Your most favorite of all is how he could never fail to scare you.

Whether it was walking into the study while you’re doing homework, and giving jumper cables to your sides.

Yelling ‘boo!’ when he walked in on you cleaning the kitchen, making you drop the cleaning spray.

Opening the door to the shower quietly and whispering something into your ear.

Suddenly saying ‘ah!’ while grabbing your side in the middle of a movie - a horror movie or not.

Whatever he did, you always jumped to high heavens with a scream. Although it got on your nerves sometimes, and almost made you cry when you were half asleep or the movie was scary, you miss it. You miss him.

His contagious laugh. Those wicked blue eyes. The empty cans of sparkling water sat around the house, although they annoyed you. Him yelling at the referees on the tv, even though he knows they can’t hear him. His sometimes annoyingly loud singing. Even if he always left the seat up on the toilet, but to his defense he kept saying he’d remember next time and that no, you didn’t need to get one of the fancy seats that lifted itself. You missed well, everything. His advice, that of course, you can still get, but it’s not instantaneous anymore. You can still see his smile over FaceTime or through pictures, but that’s delayed too. So is saying goodnight to him, because you have to figure out the time zones and his schedule. Getting his help on something, whether it’s figuring out where he put the strainer for the pasta, or his advice on an essay you wrote. Now, even his guitar lessons that he insisted you continue while he’s away are even harder with his absence. Although they’re frustrating and his guitar language is unintelligible at times, it’s made you feel closer to him. And that’s not something you want to give up, especially now.

You’ve kept telling yourself that it will all be over soon. He has a few more shows until he’s done with this leg of his tour, and then he’ll be home. Well, just for a few weeks before he goes out again. But then you can join him, because your courses will be done for the semester. You would have tagged along with him in a heartbeat, like you so often do. But two of your classes this semester were only offered on campus, and with the end of your degree nearing, there wasn’t any way to get around it. As you wash your hands after using the bathroom, you recall the look on his face when you told him last November. He tried to hide his disappointment, but after he asked you why you couldn’t take them online or wait on them, he found it impossible to mask any longer.

Shaking your head of the unpleasant memories, you turn off the bathroom light. The memories you shared in there still linger - Niall’s first bath bomb that left glitter on him for days, messing each other’s shampooed hair up into different dos in the shower, and the Eagles picture he has framed above the toilet that you still laugh at. Only he would hang that picture there to look at while he takes a leak. But the memories are whisked away when you hear your ringtone, a recent favorite song of yours. Then your Macbook chimes in as well, receiving the call too, because it’s synced to your phone.

Rushing to your shared bedroom, you plop onto the large bed. Huffing, you find your phone in the sea of covers after a few seconds. Your rapid heartbeat from the fear of missing the call only increases when you see the name. Or more like the picture lighting up your screen. Your heart warms at the smiling picture of a brown-haired little boy. And then it aches.

“You’re supposed to be getting ready to leave for the arena, you said,” the words fall from your lips in an annoyed sigh.

“Oh, t’anks. Jus’ wanna talk t’ me lovely girlfrien’, but guess not. ‘ll jus’ go then,” Niall responds sarcastically.

“No don’t. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to make you late.”

“Ya won’. Jus’ answe’,” he replies, knitting your eyebrows together. But before you can ask what you’re supposed to be answering, your phone twinkles, and then your Macbook.

You can’t stay upset as you see the message flash on your screen. Ni wants to FaceTime.

“Ni,” you begin, trying to sound stern.

“Jus’ answe’ tha bloody FaceTime befo’ I change me mind,” he tells you, his words ending in a laugh. “C’mon, love, I don’ got a lotta time.”

“Okay.”

Pressing the green Answer button, you let your phone fall into the cream covers once again. Criss-crossing your legs, you drag the laptop over to sit in front of you. A hum leaves its speaker as Niall’s image materializes on the screen in front of you. A warm smile paints his stubbly face as one soon covers yours.

“Hi, love.”

“Hi. Why the FaceTime? I mean I’m not complaining, but I thought we were going to wait until tonight,” you say, confusion rolling off of your words.

“Grab yer guitar,” is all he says, his favorite Lowden guitar suddenly appearing in the frame. “‘m gonna help ya wit’ dat part befo’ I hafta go.”

You try to hold back the smile inching up your lips, but it’s hard. You’re sure some body part of yours fills his screen as you lean over the laptop to grab the guitar.

“Oi! I thought ‘d brought t’ose shorts wit’ me. I see where they’ve gone now, ye li’l thief!” Niall exclaims from the computer. Giggling, you sit back down, the bed moving as you get comfortable. “Wha’d ye go in me suitcase befo’ I left an’ take what ya wanted?” he guffaws in his famous laugh, it having been too long since the last time you heard it. If only a couple of hours. You try not to think of how many days it’s been since you heard it without a phone in between you two.

“No!” you scoff in disbelief, settling the Gibson G-45 Studio on your lap. A present from Niall for your birthday after you agreed to let him finally teach you how to play guitar. You told him again and again not to spend a lot of money on it for you. Unbeknownst to you if he did, he only said that he wanted to get you something of quality. And he said something about how there’s no point in playing something lousy that won’t hold up to the music. Then he wouldn’t shut up about how good Gibsons are and how many guitars of theirs that he has.

“Sureeee. Now le’s jus’ try dat first verse yer learnin’. See how I can help. Oh an’ fo’ tha record, ‘m goin’ through yer drawers when I get home t’ see what else ye took o’ mine,” he smirks, shaking his head as he mutters your name.

A red blush covers your cheeks, giving him the guilty verdict he was looking for. Rolling his eyes, he rakes a hand through his flat brunette hair. He tugs on the collar of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, the frame of his hotel bed behind him. “Ye li’l shit, you,” he mumbles affectionately with another shake of his head. Sticking the white guitar pick between his lips, he holds onto it there before moving something out of frame.

Thoughts of missing his lips and what they could be doing to you right now muddle your thoughts. They cause you to fudge up the very first chord you pick. But with encouraging words from him, you carry on. It happens again when you get to that dreaded G major 6 chord.

“‘Kay, since ye ignored me Snapchat ‘bout tryin’ it wit’ tha same finga, watch me,” Niall insists, humor sticking to his words.

“I didn’t ignore it! You don’t make sense when you talk guitar, you know that? I told you that you have to dumb it down for me. Plus, I had to go pee, so there were more important matters,” you argue, resting your hands on the top curve of the natural colored wood.

“Oh ‘m sorry, love. Yer right, I gotta rememba dat. ‘Kay, so watch me now. Watch how I use tha same finger t’ play tha next note on dat string. So I pluck tha fifth string wit’ me finga on tha second fret. Then next it wants me t’ pluck tha same string, but on tha third fret,” he explains, looking back and forth between the guitar and you. He walks through every step as he plays the two notes slowly. “So ‘m gonna use me pointa finga, coz tha’s what works fer me. ‘ll play tha first note on tha second string, an’ then almost drag it down t’ pluck it again, but on tha third fret. Make sense wha’ ‘m sayin’? You try it now.”

Your head goes up and down at his words, mumbling an ‘okay.’ Hands leaving your guitar, you drag Niall’s image to the side of the screen. The note showing the guitar tablature Niall wrote comes out of hiding to help you. You scroll down until you find the G major 6 chord. With Niall watching, you nervously try the technique he showed you. It’s rocky at first, because the fingerpicking is different from the previous chord, but soon you hear applause.

“There, tha’s it. Yer gettin’ tha hang o’ it, love. I really t’ink that’ll be easier fer ye. Jus’ keep tryin’ dat technique I taught ye. An’ go slow, ye don’ need t’ speed up ‘til yer comfortable playin’ dat. Ye start off slow ‘til ye can start t’ speed up. T’ink o’ it dis way - if yer makin’ too many mistakes, then yer playin’ it too fast. But if yer not makin’ any mistakes, then speed it up a li’l,” Niall narrates, almost losing you for a second with the guitar talk again.

“Okay, I get it. Thanks, I’ll try that,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the screen awkwardly.

“Wha’? Why ye bein’ all shy, love? ‘s jus’ me, nobody else ‘s here wit’ me.”

“You know it’s hard playing in front of you,” you begrudgingly reveal, repeating this for perhaps the hundredth time.

But it never makes you settle, because it’s just as nerve-wracking each time you play for him. Or send a snapchat recording. Or when you know that he’s listening in the next room, well because he used to make comments, but that was until you got annoyed and he stopped. Or when you’d play outside in the garden to escape his ears, sure he’s eavesdropping somewhere. You know, because he did the same thing before with your singing. He’d crack the bathroom door open just to hear a hint of you singing in the shower. Or stop just around the corner from the kitchen when you sang along while cooking.

“I know ‘s nervewrackin’. It was fer me when I first started, an’ sumtimes it still ‘s when ‘m ‘round otha guitar playas. But, babe, ye gotta let dat all go. Coz ‘ve learned if ya don’t, yer not gonna get anywhere. Hey, look at me, will ye?” Niall coos from the screen of your laptop. Lifting your eyes from the covers, they return to his smiling face. “An’ I hope it counts fer sumthin’ dat ‘m yer numba one fan.”

With that, all of your nerves go out the window. He puts a smile on your face and you can’t help but nod in response. “And I’m yours,” you respond, immediately seeing his head go up and down.

“Believe me, I couldn’t forget. I know ye always will be, darlin’,” he smiles, his bubblegum lips spreading to show his straight white teeth. Memories flash in your mind from the hundreds of songs you’ve watched him perform with his guitar. On stage, and well, on the couch. “Now, will ye try it once mo’ fer me, my love?”

Nodding, you hear him cheer which sends you into a fit of giggles. Soon, his loud laugh pours from the speakers to grace your ears. One of your own trickles from your lips as you find your fingering on the guitar. He counts you off to 4, and then you take your time fingerpicking the chords. The G major 6 appears out of nowhere, but you use Niall’s trick again this time. The next words out of his mouth echo your thoughts.

“I t’ink dat went betta dat time too. Good job, love. Yer jus’ gettin’ betta an’ betta. Really, I mean it. Ever since we started t’ese lessons a year ago, yer doin’ so well. ‘m so proud o’ you, bub,” Niall grins, scratching his beard before his chin settles in his palm.

You’re choked for words, unsure of what you could say that could express your gratefulness. But you feel rest assured, knowing that he knows how much he means to you. As well as how grateful you are for him for teaching you how to play.

“Why d’ya wanna learn dis song o’ mine anyways? Neva gotta ask ya dat bit,” he questions, twirling the pick around in his finger. Absentmindedly, he kind of chews on it as he waits for your answer.

“I dunno, I’ve always liked it. It sounds so pretty, and you said it would be fun to play together since it has two parts,” you reply, the words finding their way.

“Mmmm, I see. So yer gonna finally let me play a song wit’ you, huh?”

“We’ll see,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Hey, don’ go on teasin’ me. Wait, ‘s dat gray Eagles jumpa o’ mine yer wearin’? I was lookin’ all over da place fer dat when I was packin’!” Niall exclaims, his face getting closer to the camera.

“Um no, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hurry, pushing the laptop screen back to raise the camera away from your chest.

Shaking his head, he tsk-tsks your name once again. “Ye li’l bugga, you. I dunno what ‘m gonna do wit’ ye when I get home. Well actually, I might ‘ave sum new ideas since ye keep stealin’ me clothes,” Niall winks, a sly smirk sticking to his lips. His eyebrows dance amongst his forehead, sending your lips into giggles.

“Hey! They were still in your closet, so they were fair game!” you counter, inching your head forward.

Pressing his lips together, his head shakes fast. “No, no, no. Tha’s not how it works, an’ ye know it, love. Said ye can go bloody wild wit’ knickin’ me clothes, afta I packed me suitcases. I swear t’ God dat jumpa wasn’t in me closet when I went through grabbin’ stuff t’ pack. An’ it just so ‘appened t’ end up on yer body now, afta ‘m gone. Hmm, I can only wonder how dat ‘appened,” Niall quips, a smile soon peeking at the corners of his lips. You both try to hide the laughs you’re suppressing, but soon they fill the ears of the other. “Bloody hell, ‘m really gonn’ get ye when I get home soon. T’ink I might tear dat off ye soon as I walk in da door.”

“I wouldn’t have a problem with that,” you admit, a blush warming your cheeks. You savor the sound of his laugh in your ears, and the smile spreading across his face.

“An’ ‘m hidin’ it afta dat. Coz tha’s one o’ me favourite jumpas, an’ ye know dat, too!”

You try to act all innocent, but he knows you’re guilty as hell. He knows you. From how much milk you put in your cereal, what kind of clothes you like for when he brings you home new merch of his, what new song of his you’ll love before you’ve even heard it, often why you’re crabby although sometimes he claims not to know, and while he’s gone he always knows what time you’re doing homework or when you go to bed. He never forgets a goodnight call.

“What am I gonna do wit’ ye, bub,” he sighs, scratching at his stubbly neck. Although he tries to act annoyed, a smile finds it way back onto his face as he stares into the camera. “How’s yer day been since I talked t’ ya dis mornin’? Well, mornin’ fer me.”

“It’s been fine. It’s gross here - it’s all rainy and cold,” you explain, the words guiding your eyes to the misty windows. “It kinda makes for a good studying day, though. I got a few assignments done, and then I was going to make some dinner soon, seeing it’s half-past 6.”

“I s’pose I shouldn’ be sendin’ ye photos o’ tha hot an’ sunny day we’re ‘avin’ here, then,” Niall chuckles, a teasing gleam in his eye. “But tha’s good ye got sum stuff done. Whatcha gonna make fer dinna? Did ye eat up all t’ose frozen meals I made fer ya befo’ I left?”

“No, I still have a few left. That’s a good idea, though. I didn’t really want to cook,” you smile, watching his soon mirror your own. Fuck that few second delay, you think to yourself, finding it hard to ignore.

His face freezes for a few seconds, making you sigh. The picture grows blurry but then he starts moving again. “Sorry, love, connection got bad fer a bit there. What’d ye say ye were makin’ fo dinna?” he repeats, his voice sounding far away, reminding you that he’s halfway across the world. In your chest, your heart squeezes at the thought, one that you can’t push away as well lately.

“Oh, nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, tell me. I wanna know. I like t’ hear all t’hese li’l details, coz they make me feel like ‘m there wit’ you,” Niall insists. You swallow, feeling emotions come back up. Yeah, no thanks, you say inaudibly to yourself.

“Um, I guess one of the lasagna pieces you froze. It’s been sounding good to me lately.”

“Mmmm, ye it does sound good. Maybe ‘ll ‘ave it fer dinna tonight, too. Can be like we had dinna togetha,” he says in his Irish lilt.

This time, the words hit you harder, and it’s hard to hide the effect they have on you. Tearing your eyes away from the screen, you try to focus on your breathing to will the feelings away.

“Ye holdin’ up okay, sweetheart?” Niall ponders, once again proving how well he knows you. Or maybe it’s just a coincidence, bad timing, or he’s feeling the same way.

Exhaling slowly, you swallow past the lump in your throat. Returning your eyes to his inquisitive blues, your insides tighten at the sight. One that is so comforting and relaxing, but at the same time, it can be so painful you can’t bear it.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine,” you mumble, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Ye don’ gotta lie t’ me, y’know,” he almost whispers, before his bottom lip comes between his teeth. “T’ese guitar lessons ‘ave made it a li’l easier fer me dis time ‘round. I mean, fook, ‘s neva easy, but it takes me mind off it. I hope it does fer ye too, bub.”

You can hardly see the tip of his nose as his head has fallen. The plucking of strings follows the sound of his voice, but you’re unsure if he’s distracted by his guitar or if he’s doing it on purpose. “I feel like I always come t’ love ye a li’l mo’ when ‘m away, but now teachin’ ye guitar makes me love ye a li’l more too. Didn’ even t’ink dat was possible,” Niall admits with a small laugh, his striking blue eyes returning to yours.

“Okay, you’re really going to make me cry now, so stop it,” you confess in tear-choked words. True to your word, tears obscure your vision within seconds. You laugh, but you know it sounds fake and out of place.

“Ye betta not start cryin’, or else ye know I will too. So ye knock dat off right now, young lady,” Niall says firmly, but you hear the wavering of his voice. “‘Kay maybe dis will stop yer cryin’. Imma hide all me jumpas when I get home so ye stop bloody stealin’ ‘em, maybe me gym shorts too. Ye think I don’ know, but I know where ye hide ‘em, love. Know ye hide ‘em in da linen closet. Found sum ‘d been searchin’ all ova fo’ when I went t’ put new bedsheets on da last time. So yer secret’s out.”

His bright laugh licks your wounds, but the effect doesn’t stay. Because then you hear him sniffle, and your eyes drop to your lap. “‘s hopefully da last time we’ll hafta do dis, with ye ‘avin’ t’ stay back when I go on tour fer ye courses, but-.”

“Yeah, I registered for the fall and my advisor worked with me to be online for the rest of my degree. I just spoke to her yesterday about it,” you reveal. Lifting your eyes to his reddening ones, a smile splits your lips as you deliver the news.

“Aw, babe, tha’s wonderful! Couldn’ ‘ave heard betta news today than dat. T’ink ye jus’ made me whole bloody day!” Niall grins, pumping his arms in the air with a cheer. But as his laugh fades away, you watch him wipe under his eyes. “I know it doesn’ take ‘way da pain right now, tho’. Coz I feel meself hurtin’ everytime I wanna tell ye sumthin’, show ye sumthin’, or when I reach for ye in da middle o’ da night. Even miss ye on t’ese video calls.”

His quiet sobs accompany yours as tears trail down your cheeks. Hiccuping, you let the feelings out that you’ve been packing away for a rainy day like today. With your heavy workload this week, you didn’t want to distract yourself with the tears. You left them until nighttime, lying in your cold bed with his side empty. No laughs heard under the covers, or his fingers dancing across your ticklish ribs, or waking up to kisses along your jaw with his voice floating across your skin. None of that. You think that although the house is empty and you can hear his voice over the phone, you feel the most lonely at night and waking up alone.

“Niall,” you barely get out in between tears, and heavy thoughts. As a tear spills onto your cheek, your eyes focus on his head of hair bent over his guitar.

“But I told meself dis’ mornin’, only five mo’ days, Niall. Then tomorro’ it’ll be four, an’ then t’ree an’ befo’ not much longa, ‘s zero. Then I getta t’ come home t’ ye wearin’ me clothes, dat I know I bitch ‘bout, but I really do love,” he divulges, guitar notes floating in the air amongst his words. “Five mo’ days ‘til I can slobber ye all ova wit’ kisses, an’ fall asleep wit’ ye in me arms.”

“And steal your clothes back, and play guitar together,” you hum, watching a tear splash onto the shiny surface of your guitar.

“Mmmmhmm, an’ ‘til then ‘ll keep teachin’ ye ova FaceTime an’ bloody Snapchat,” he guffaws, pulling up the corners of your lips happily. “An’ maybe if ‘m lucky ‘ll get sum otha pics on Snapchat.”

Shaking your head, you can’t hold back the laugh behind your lips. His loud one echoes yours soon after, your cheeks growing red.

“Oh God, only five more days,” you sigh, clucking your tongue. He lifts his head, and although he’s on the other side of the planet, somehow you can feel his eyes glassy with tears stare into your soul.

“Ye, an’ yer gonna get sick o’ me with how much ‘m gonna be lovin’ on ye.”

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thirstyandbeautiful · 3 years

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lvl playlist drabbles: Love Language ~ Kehlani

A dream sequence where you experience your ideal Lando.

Takes place after part one of the soon-to-be-released third (still unnamed!!!) installment in the lvl!au.

It's all foreign to me I don't speak what you speak I'll commit to learnin' if you, if you You're a sweet fantasy, singin' your ABCs Please be patient with me, with you

“Ah, fuck, darling, so good.” Lando was rambling, his chest heaving as he kept arching his back, but he kept his promise and kept his hips still as stone.

You had a pillow rested against his leg, so your tummy could be supported while you laid your head on the bump of his hip bone. With his cock in your mouth.

You were doing most of the work with your hand, having spat all over his dick to get it nice and slick before settling against him and sucking his tip. The real trick was swiping that little spot under his tip, where the skin bunched. His frenulum was so sensitive, and running the tip of your tongue up and down it with varying pressure while sucking him always made him get worked up fast.

But then again, this was Lando, and if getting hard were a sport he’d be an Olympian.

You felt him stroke your hair, “Love, I’m gonna cum.”

You leaned on him a bit more, making him bite a shocked laugh back as you got a few more inches of him in. Your hand fell to his balls to play with him and get him over the edge.

Within seconds he was spurting hot cum into the back of your mouth. You swallowed around him, pressing your tongue against the underside of him and lifted your jaw while sucking your lips in. You wanted to milk him, without accidentally biting him.

When his cock stopped twitching, you let it slide out from between your lips.

“Come up here,” He leaned up and hooked his arms under your your own, hauling you up the bed none too gracefully. “there you are.”

He kissed the side of your temple and reached down to the grab the pillow that had been against his leg. He carefully maneuvered you so he could spoon you, your favorite pillow ever resting against your tummy with his hands.

“That blowjob had me writing my vows.” Lando sighed, chucking into your ear.

“Don’t play with me.” You grumbled, rolling your eyes.

“Who said I’m playing?”

You turned your head quickly, searching Lando’s face, but finding nothing but his satisfied smile.

“Lando, I-”

“I adore you, and I adore this.” His hands fell lower, under the swell of your stomach that seemed to have grew overnight, unexpectedly, just as all of this had been from the start.

“I couldn’t be more thankful for the peace we’ve found.” Your eyes welled up with tears and Lando laughed, starting to cry a bit himself.

“God, we’re literally gonna have a crybaby, aren’t we?”

He cackled when you slapped his elbow, laughing at his terrible joke with him.

“But really, there’s no one else in this world who could have made me a happier man. Who could’ve given me everything I didn’t know was missing. Who could’ve proven to me that I have two hearts outside my body... Well, soon two- right now both are with you.”

“Lando...”

You wiped at your eyes, suddenly so thankful that you weren’t facing him. You would’ve been full on sobbing to see that emotional face of his, the way his nose would scrunch and his eyes would get a bit swollen, but those green grey beauties would shine like nothing else in this world. And I’m sobbing.

Lando rubbed your tummy in circles, “I know this was unexpected, but I lov-”

You woke up abruptly, panting and gasping for air. The soft purple light from your glowing night light on your bedside stand lit up your room so you could see that you were most definitely in bed alone. And your stomach was most definitely flat.

So far, you bitterly reminded yourself before letting a sob escape your mouth without any tears, stop your whining- you don’t know anything yet, you don’t know if you even are...

A dream, it was a cruel, cruel dream...

Not if that’s what you could have.

You dropped back on to your pillows with a huff, telling yourself not to cry as you felt the tears well up in your eyes. Your eyes were already stinging from all the crying you did before with Lando, they were in desperately need of a break.

One day at a time, we need to take this a day at a time.

Lando’s unexpectedly wise words replayed in your head, settling your racing thoughts as you practiced mindful breathing. Your heart rate eventually settled, your breathing evened out and you could feel yourself drifting away from consciousness.

With your last waking thought, you hoped for no more dreams.

Never wanna get lost in translation Never wanna be on two separate pages Swear to me that you'll state facts If you can take back, know I can take that I been workin' at it, hoping that you'd notice I been waitin', I just needed you to focus Swear to me that you'll show me Need you to coach me, then we can proceed

#w #hoe fairy #ln #lvl playlist drabbles #ooooo landoooooo #soft saturday #ss #saturdays are for feels #for the love of god pls tell me what to call the third part PLEASE I NEED HELP

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thinkfirstdubai · 3 years

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Tips to Help You Learn Chinese Language Better

It's a fact that a lot of people all over the world are dying to learn a new language, especially the Chinese language. It is also a fact that learning a new language is not exactly a walk in the park. It can be pretty difficult. Of course, nothing is impossible through sheer hard work and willpower. It is very possible to learn Chinese fast and here are a few tips to help you learn Chinese fast.

The first thing you have to do is to make realistic goals when it comes to learning Chinese. We all want to do things fast, but there are some things that you cannot do in day, in a week, or in a month. One of these things is building the Forbidden City. Yes, the Chinese people did not finish the Forbidden City in a week so don't expect to be a fluent speaker of Chinese in under a week. Be sure to set short and long-term goals that you are sure you can achieve. For example, aim to learn five Chinese words today. After a few days, start learning some new Chinese phrases using those words that you have learned. You'll be surprised to find out that your phrases will turn into sentences in no time.

Now that you have set goals for yourself, start making a schedule. This has to be a detailed schedule that you can follow easily. You won't be able to learn Chinese fast if you don't follow this schedule religiously. Lots of people underestimate the value of practice. Just because they've learned how to speak a few words and phrases fluently, doesn't mean that they can be as good as those who diligently practice speaking Chinese every single day. Make sure to practice every day, even for just 20-30 minutes every day.

The next thing you have to do is to immerse yourself. Immerse yourself in an environment of Chinese-speaking people. You don't have to travel thousands of miles. Just simply walk down to the nearest Chinese neighborhood and interact with people there like the owner of the Chinese restaurant. Practice the language in your head so that you'll get used to it.

Also, you have to learn the difficult stuff. Chinese spelling and grammar are entirely different, so it's a good idea to memorize the really difficult stuff so that you'll get used to using them.

Lastly, speak Chinese always. One of the best ways to learn Chinese fast is to speak the language always. This is the reason why you cannot simply learn Chinese by reading or listening to audio recordings. There is simply no interaction involved here. It is a good idea to look for online courses on the Chinese language. Make sure that these courses involve interaction. Remember that you cannot learn the Chinese language if you will not learn to speak it.

Thinkfirstdubai intense One-to-One Instruction and "The Action-Motivation Approach to Learnin" actually provide your child with long-term skills that will last a lifetime.

More than More - https://thinkfirstdubai.home.blog/2021/10/05/tips-to-help-you-learn-chinese-language-better/amp/

#Chinese language #Learn Chinese #Learning Chinese #Thinkfirstdubai

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janexeu · 3 years

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though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, JANE MÁRQUEZ is actually a descendent of HYPNOS. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-SIX year old DEMIGOD ELEMENTARY EDUCATION MAJOR from NEW ORLEANS, USA has taken after HER godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite SACRIFICIAL & STUBBORN.

( she’s b-b-b-back on her bs : katya ! tis uhm ,,,, a lil bit of a chonk of an intro but ill try 2 b cute w it. any time u wanna yeet jus peep the gif again & forgive me bc Look At Her ! )

POWERS ( more info here )

hypnokinesis — p much made her a glorified babysitter w lynch-esque wacko dreams. it got stronger naturally as she got older, but jus w herself n eventually the ppl shes real close w. its also gotten a lot better since comin to eonia

seeing gods in dreams — she doesnt hang out w em every fridays at tgifs but like ,,, if she had Pertinent Questions she cud smhw make it happen. found out abt her being a demigod at age 10 when she met hypnos

memory retrieval — shes got great memry of her own but bc she knows it can help w grief n all that, shes been learnin in eonia how to do it 4 others if they mayb wanted it

BIO POINTS

her single ma died during childbirth so jane's been in the foster care system since 5ever. attempts at reunification nvr worked out but thankfully she got real lucky w her group home and foster families. twas stable enough to not emotionally scar her even further but the instability of it all was fosho a big ol’ lot and has influenced her rigidness in sum aspects of her life

she lived p much as a mortal even tho her powers r a lil freaky. never went to camp but it worked out bc all her abilities r internal and cannot be Perceived by others. she had a talk w hypnos abt what 2 do n he mentioned camps but also gave sum monster avoidance tips ( like rarely use ur powers, maybe learn self defense, yada yada ) n she jus ,,, did that so she cud continue livin real normal w the mortals. logistics of camp stressed her out esp bc shes livin w non-family n stuff yk it was All Too Much, miss her w the added demigod stress tyvm

got married at 23 to her childhood sweetums luis, but he ,,, died abt a yr later fr a car accident. coma for 2 weeks n jane p much slept the entire time in his hospital room, visitin his dreams n talkin to him. twas a life support sitch so they eventually decided to pull da plug whch was real sad but like she's processed it 2 da best of her abilities. her powers helped a lot in the coping too n she visits memories of him in her dreams smtms when it gets real sad then shes ok again bc life goes on n life is pretty uwu

bc of her bg round kids of all kinds, shes always been passionate abt em. always takin babysittin/tutor gigs and went to community college so she cud teach n then worked as an elem teacher. only started considerin goin 2 eonia 4 postgrad when she had a student who showed signs n strugglez of bein a demigod. she eventually got to talk to their godly parent 2 confirm n she was shocked pikachu meme, real concerned for all those youngins who hav no clue what to do ! or how to cope ! bc they cant facetime w the olympians lyk she can ! so cue her discussin eonia w luis a lot then a year after the accident, broke out the pro-con list again. took abt *checks watch* another yr til she finally decided to zoom 2 athens but then whoosh she did !

PERSONALITY

yearning ? idk her — shes can be a bit of a take it as is typa chick. can be a lil literal jsksj not dumb but like ,,, def doesnt read into things enuff to pine n long n year yk. some things might def fly over her head. she says Yes To Serotonin in this house. she dk the the mitskis n the sikens n the carsons ; its all mary oliver up in this joint. we just tryna luv life n be grateful folkz

le freak, say chic ! — control freak, that is. growin up in an unstable envi meant shed cling 2 stability n independence, wrvr she cud get it. so when it comes 2 the way she does things, she can be real a heel digger. also bc she has 2 deal w kids yk so it can b A Lot n shes v stern lyk dat. ofc she wont infantilize the eonians .,,,. or will she ? big sis vibes outta control. she means well tho always always means well. itll also b v hard to get her 2 giv up on sum1 bc life ? she luvs it n knows u can too

changes by david bowie — is decidedly skipped on the playlist. she doesnt like change !!! i mean she knows its inevitable but still not entire unavoidable. ever since she got out of the system, shes had a partner n her own way of doing things n its been workin out so why change it yk ? she says time may change me but jokes on u i can sorta trace time

rip but im different — this goes out to all em whores in this house. she respectz ur hustle but like ,,,, not her thang. girl doesnt even get drunk when she drinks bc she doesnt rlly drink sksjsk doesnt like the taste of it, big baby ! but like she's Lived, its more like. ok tried it, not for me. thanks tho. also for all the meanies in the house, y’all perplex her. shes empathetic n wont show the judgement but smtms shes lowkey lyk .,., ur how old n u had all this goin 4 u n ur still so rotten ? how u actin like a 7yo w a trantrum ? scratch head, make it make sense

at least u tried — dad jokes, bad puns, tries to be big jokester but isn't funny. she's pretty tho so she gets away with it. idk wht else 2 say ur honor. shes the type thatll embarrass u w affection

well that was Awkward — probably sum1 abt her if they see her actin a Fool bc shes in a foreign sitch or topic. when shes a fish outta water then she can be so ! easily ! flustered ! which is p much her in eonia. shes not new new but theres way 2 much godly shennanigans for her to wrap her head ‘round n sis has never gone to camp so its ice bucket challenge level shock from time to time still w da magics n lore

til death do us part — yknow when death cab for cutie said i knew that u wer a truth i wud rather lose than 2 hav nvr lain beside at all ? how abt when they wrecked me by rudely sayin love is watching sum1 die ? yes ? no ? nywy thats jane 4 ya. if she loves then shes in and if shes in then she is all in, luke danes stylez

was that a vivid enough picture or did i just word vom the same things agen n agen sjksjs jus know shes cute n sweet if a lil frustrating n annoying bc shes stubbornpants mcgee. may or may not have a slight compulsion to help fix other ppl ..,,.. someone set her str8 n tell her fix u by coldplay isnt it !!!

OTHER INFO

5′9″ born 4 october 1994, virgo sun n moon

not a freshie ! idk how long her program is but like ,,, lets ignore that 4 now ok jus kno that she been here a while

yogi & boxing enthusiast back at home. hc her mans got real into the martial arts w her when hypnos told her she gotta learn how 2 defend so that was one of their things : bonding by workouts so jane cud protecc herself if need be

her maiden name’s jane fulton. got her mommas surname but the name jane ? thats some jane doe bs some rando picked out for her which she hated at first but then seeing tarzan made her go hmmm, ok bet !

lgbtq+ alliance president ! identifies as pan

she met her late hubbie when they were abt 7ish, real friends 2 lovers cuteness. jane was there for him throughout his entire coming out & transition ergo her passion for the community esp queer kids bc she was That Cis Ally for her mans. wears her ring as a real lowkey necklace now

shes also real passionate abt sleep. will ask u how did u sleep last night p much every day u see her bc ppl spend like half their lives asleep catherine ofc shes gonna ask

her fave thing abt eonia ? the whole siblings bit. shes had 2 make do w what she got n build a family from scratch so this ? she luvs it a lot let her give u kithes hypnos babies

shes p well versed in the greek thingies but only thru the knowledge mortals gets + dream info. after her realizin who she is, all things ancient greek jus sorta became her niche interest ykwim ? shes not like Super Learned abt it more like ,,, ok i gotta at least make Sum sense outta all this, gotta learn what i can. imagin how embarrassin it wud b 2 see a god in ur dream n then go : sorry to this man. nope. not jane, not her, nuh-uh

luv languages : words, acts of service, physical touch !

useless hcs but she loves disney sfm ok. smtms dresses up as princess tiana for bday parties n shit bc shell do nythin 2 put a smile on the kids n babs faces

ya like jazz ? bc jane surely does ! adores motown & 60s music. nina simone owns her. no one drag peggy lee from 101 dalmatians ! not an important hc but i jus wanted to quote my bubble butt winged bee lover barry

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS

children ! infants ! babies !

demigods that make her scratch head damn u live like this ? but also wud knife emoji to protect n care for. shes not the oldest on campus but shes been livin independently p much her entire life so she finks shes got a tight grasp on the myth that is Adulting

srsly tho the Big Sis vibes is off the charts w this one. shell perserve u dumdums

baddie influencies !

convince her 2 get drunk at a party ! bc she never does. convince her to maybe try drugs ! or go hook up ! do smths impulsive idk jus smth new !

gl tho bc shes not rlly ,,, easily influenced But she can b reasoned w ! in general i fink its just gonna be a fun dynamic if y/m knows how to coax sum wildness outta her or w/e bc thotty yummy theyre hotty yolo rzning jus wont do w this gal. will most likely get argumentative like a big ol momma hen but if u win then ur winning big

Sleep Now or forever hold ur peace !

idk sum1 she helps w their messy sleep ? shes def not super public w it, surely knows her other siblings r Better at it but if y’all are close, she probs enjoys doin it 4 ya. she runs her hair thru fingers a lot when she does it. like a lot a lot unless u tell her to get lost

lover boi, lover gorl, lover enby !

she can be a lil traditional when it comes to how she views rels. she wants all that meetcute courting bs ! no gender roles tho n u best be sure shes not constantly comparin w her late hubbie ,,, but she jus wants smth magical n 2 be wooed again yk ?

so yea ,,, crushers mayhaps ? sum1 who is tryin 2 woo her ? sum1 she had a meetcute w and now janes got lowkey heart eyes for em ? idk lotsa possiblities but pls keep in mind she is not good at the flirtings so hav mercy on her

eonia tour guide !

or jus friends who like ,,, constnatly fill her in w all the godly stuff n whatnot. years of not goin 2 camps mean u miss out on a lot ! explore ruins w her n get her info her mortal educ didnt make her privy 2 yk

head real empty atm i will think of sum n let y’all know when i do, but give us all the conekshunz. friends, enemies, the usual bit, lgbtq alliance peeps, lmk whats up whats done whats cookin we want it all

( shes p much a new muse n da result of me tryna bring in an emotionally healthy kid to this sad sad university. janes in a v good well-adjusted place rn n is my therapy muse bc that other bitch m** is a messy handful. but wbk life aint linear so mayhaps shit’ll hit da fan or one of y/m will ruin her lmfao press f pls ! but also color me eyes emoji bc we love to see it )

#euintro

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bunnymossmakes · 4 years

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Woo Your Woman [WIP]

[Sharky Boshaw x Francine “Franny” Mayhew]

Rated T for Language and Sexual Content

If there's two things Sharky Boshaw knows like the back of his hand, it's how to start a fire, and how to woo a woman.

Okay, there’s one thing he knows, it's arson. Fire enthusiasm.

But the wooing women part, well. There's some learnin' to do. Specially with that hot-shot Rook out there snatching up all the fine ladies of Hope County. And really, who wants to bang a catch like him when there's a fuckin' cop with loose morals storming around blowing up Peggies like the fourth of July? Used to be he and Hurk could at least catch a wink or a kiss, if not the occasional drunken bathroom blowjob.

And god damnit if he ain't gonna shoot his shot for precisely the latter, from that blonde badger-looking broad across the bar.

“Well honestly I was thinkin' about maybe goin' down to the river by my mama's place and catchin' frogs again after dark, if yer feelin' up to it,” Hurk elbows him just hard enough to bring his bleary-eyed focus over to his cousin, “you wanna maybe pick up some beers and call the Dep and-“

“Man fuck po-po, okay? Well actually don’t, that'd be weird, he's like. Your business partner, man,” Sharky interrupts, tugging on the bill of his cap, “just… sorry cuz. I'm trynna get laid and Rook's gettin' all the bitches. He's got asses bouncing at him left and right and I just wanna see what that girl over there tastes like, you know?”

Hurk blinks once or twice before the tinge of pink flushes his cheeks, certainly not from the excess of shit beer he’s been knocking back, and opens his mouth to retort before deciding another drink is a better option. After one big swig, which Sharky gladly matches, he musters up the proper response.

“Cuz, I don’t think you wanna go down on her right there at the bar-“

“Aw shit man, not what I meant,” he grimaces, “ain’t done that in ages. A pretty gal like her don’t deserve my half-ass attempt.”

“Just ask her h'wat her name is first,” Hurk says simply, tipping his beer bottle towards the very blonde in question, who raises an eyebrow at the two of them.

Never in his damn life has the Spread Eagle suddenly felt so hot. Like, not fire heat, no, that shit's tolerable and preferable, to whatever suffocating swamp is bogging down his lungs and making his face burn red. She’s looking right at him and she doesn’t seem to give a shit. She's looking right at him and fluttering those pretty lashes and – by god she just belched.

Open-mouthed chest-thumping cockles-of-her-soul belched.

Oh god he's in love.

“Pretty lady what's your name?” he blurts before his thoughts have come even halfway back round in his skull, and she stiffens in surprise.

“Me?” she says, and her voice is gruff like sandpaper and oh god he's in love not drunk, in love damnit.

…a little drunk maybe.

“Good job Shark,” Hurk encourages with a pat on the shoulder, and Sharky swats out blindly to hush him up.

The blonde across the bar looks between the two of them, then at herself, down at the dirty t-shirt she's wearing, and back up into his eyes. Can she see into his soul? Is she actually a witch or some shit? Was that belch her wicked mating call, and she’s gonna lure him back to her evil swamp lair and bite his head off like a praying mantis? He swears one of her eyes is a little off kilter but she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“Francine,” she says, almost sounding surprised, but that’s fine, her name is lovely, “er. Frannie.”

He can't even speak. How does he respond to that? Where have his words gone? He definitely passed third grade English. Maybe. Probably not. God damn this bar feels like a sauna.

“Niiice to meeeet yeewww, Frannciiine,” Hurk hisses, “you gotsta respond dude.”

“You're hot,” is what he says instead, “or. It's hot. In here. Cuz you’re. Pretty. I like your shirt. Nice belch.”

Chances ruined. Shot deflected. What the fuck came out of his mouth? This is why he can't get his dick wet.

But Frannie – blessed Frannie – smiles big as can be and hides behind a big swill of her pint. Slams it back down on the bar with froth on her upper lip like the most graceful mustache he's ever seen on a lady (and he’s seen plenty in Hope County.) She doesn’t even bother to wipe it off her face before she’s up out of her seat and heading for the door. But something about that grin on her freckled face says follow me not I'm noping the fuck outta here.

And so he does, with a celebratory if not preemptive whoop from his cousin.

“Git ‘er Sharky!” Hurk claps his hands together, and all he can do is snort as he stumbles off his own stool and after the walking embodiment of his deepest drunken desires.

Following behind her is like chasing a deer through the brush. Except he’s never done that, and she's drunk enough to stumble a little as she trudges out the front door. Granted, so is he, but he’s always carried himself well enough to get by. At least, that's what he tells himself. Hurk says he looks kinda like a bowlegged daddy longlegs when he's drunk, but what does Hurk know about majesty when he sees it?

“This way stranger!” he hears from outside on the porch as the door swings shut between them.

Barging through is easy, but catching up to her halfway across the street is hard when he’s this wobbly.

“Where you goin' Frannie?” Sharky calls, a little more high-pitched than he'd intended, and she laughs real quiet so he can just barely hear.

“Just come on, ballcap, got somethin' to show you!” she says over her shoulder, but he isn’t focused on her face when she angles it back at him, “just across the street!”

“Well alright, but I'll have you know I am a gentleman, thank you very much, and I'm not expecting no free peep show in the alley,” he clarifies, “a man of culture and chivalry only expects titty flashes in the open street, or in the privacy of someone's bedroom - doesn't matter whose.”

He sees her elbows bend, watches her hands settle on the hem of her t-shirt, and holy Bongo II is she gonna turn around and flash him did that just work hello God it’s me Sharky—

Frannie face plants in the gravel not two steps further. Tripped on her own damn feet or something. And in that moment, sprawled in the dirt, limbs akimbo, she may as well be a fallen angel. He can’t even help her up he’s too busy tripping over his own self, ogling at the sight before him. This woman is a mess, and he might be too.

Okay no he totally is.

Somehow he manages to stumble forward and get ahold of one of her hands, and in a semi-fruitless struggle Frannie manages to get her ass under her and up onto her knees with his help. She's got mud on her face, and a skinned elbow, and the lopsided grin she offers says she's just fine.

“Was gonna show you but I fell,” she says simply, and all he can do is nod like an imbecile, “but come on I really wanna show you this other thing!”

The two of them get Francine on her feet and steady enough to start walking, and the second she turns away and out of his loose grasp he panics.

“I’m Sharky nice to meet you Frannie,” he gets out all in one exhale, “you don’t have to show me your tits they’re probably real nice. But I’m too drunk to remember them tomorrow and I'd really want to you know?”

Frannie pauses in her stride and turns back to him, still wearing that wide crooked smile.

“How bout I show you tonight and tomorrow? Why not both?”

“I mean. I’m not gonna say no. But I don’t think either of us are in the right way to be doin' that shit as drunk as we are,” he says, and since when has he cared?

How many women has he let yank him to the bathroom or out by the dumpster to fuck around with after a long night of drinking? …not as many as he’d like to imagine. Maybe only like two. Okay, he's got a point.

His companion simply nods, fine enough with his opinion, and ambles back on down her path. This time he manages to catch up to her and match her stride, and before he knows it he's mustered up the courage to reach out and hold her hand. The whole thing is giving him butterflies, and if Hurk could see him now he’d probably tease him for a solid month about it. The great Charlemagne Victor Boshaw, reduced to holding hands with a cute girl, going off on some adventure.

Seems she's leading him to the water tower nearby, and he’s fully prepared to tell her he’s scared of heights, but she keeps on walking. Up the little hill, towards the outside of town, to the little patch of trees up the road. The thought strikes him that perhaps he's about to get stabbed, or shot, or stabbed and shot – or maybe she really is gonna bite his head off in her evil lair – but then she looks to him and smiles again, squeezes his hand, and, nah, he’ll be fine.

#sharky boshaw #far cry 5 #moss writes #fanfiction #sharky x oc #frannie boshaw #far cry oc #far cry #ubisoft

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caelin-ismycity · 5 years

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do ya attend japanese classes or learn the language by urself?? how do u even get started aaaaaaaaaaa

i learn the language myself- it helps a lil that i know chinese so kanji’s not too much of an issue to read. it also helps to have a goal or a reason why you’re learning the language- for me it was because i was going on a trip with my dad to japan so i figured i’d learn the language

i follow a few japanese langblr blogs and tofugu is a nice site to read to learn tips about learnin it. someone also bought me a basic learning set (with an interactive book and discs and whatever) and a traveling dictionary. if you dont feel like visiting the site a few basic tips when learning japanese is:

learn hiragana

learn katakana

learn some common kanji

learn grammar

another thin’ i recommend is labeling stuff around your house with post it notes for a lil bit of course with vocab- like on a clock you could put the kanji (時)and under it its hiragana (とき) for time. you could also listen to music (and even sing along too) to learn the words and more sentence structure

i aint a professional but just a few thin’s i learned along the way

#snap chats

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bunbunmaru-shimbun · 5 years

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> @twinfoxtails (Ah! Sorry I am a bit late on this!)

“Ah! I knoww that feelin’ ‘bout learnin’ a neww language and readin’ it. It took me a feww years to learn the Gensokyan Japanese.”

> Eridan had to specify ‘Gensokyan Japanese’ due to the prevalence of East Alternian/Beforus muddying the waters.

“I can speak it enough to be understood, and I can at least read some documents; though I havve ta’ sometimes get assistance from Miss Aya on really hard characters. You are doin’ well.”

“Oh, Eri, A good tip that helped me too is to wwrite English wwords on little pieces of paper and stick them to vvarious objects like a broom or door, so you learn wwhat the wwords are and use them more.”

#Character: Eridan Ampora #//Note: When it looks like Eridan is writing and speaking relatively properly; he is speaking Japanese with Gensokyans and others #//When he is writing/speaking in the general quirk: native Alternian.#//also at the same time he's gunna make Eri stick paper everywhere lolol

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getmesomefuckingteadude · 7 years

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My personal tips for learning a language

So what I find a good way to start learning a language.

•Start with words and phrases like: hello, how are you?, My name is...., What's your name?, How are you? I am well/ bad. And practice this everyday and go back to the first word you learned. Like when I forget something I go back to what I first learned and it comes back to me.

•Write pointless, random, short stories, read them in your target language, translate them to your native, it will help you more than you realise.

•Find something to talk to whether it's a friend, a pet, a stuffed animal, speaking the words will help.

•listen to music in your target language, this will help you with pronunciation and discover new words.

•Also talk to people that know the language well, if you know anyone. I always talk to my German teacher when I see him in the hallways, typically first thing when I get to school.

#learnining language tips #languages #learning tips

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purkinje-effect · 5 years

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The Anatomy of Melancholy, 27

Table of Contents. Go to previous. Go to next.

‘Choly lagged behind the rest of the group on their walk to Sanctuary. As they passed what remained of the Walden Drugs, he sighed, half-inclined to stay behind where he belonged. But he shoved down that flagellation and instead focused on how the bombs had blown out the Fallon’s Department Store at the Northwest of town, and weather had done the rest. There couldn’t be anything left of value in there, beyond a few articles of gold and silver--and even that speculation was suspect, considering how thoroughly looted Concord was. After what had transpired with Jared’s outfit, he didn’t trust anything to have the same kind of value it once possessed. He hated having to continue wearing his service uniform as daily attire, but he had no other choice until he located something more dressed down. He loosened his necktie and unbuttoned the first button of his dress shirt, and sighed.

The chemist got lost in thought on his way out of town, a path he had once walked no fewer than twice a day, six days a week, for nearly a year. He was so glad the work day was finally over. This shift had taken so much out of him. He couldn’t wait to slip into the bathroom ahead of Hawthorne and take a long, hot shower, then unwind with bourbon and whatever sci-fi movie his favorite channel was broadcasting for the evening. He nearly asked Angel aloud what it had planned for dinner tonight, but he caught himself short of stuttering on the first part, only to cover up the rest with a sputtering cough. He kicked at a small hunk of rubbled concrete with a sneer.

Hawthorne wouldn’t be there when ‘Choly got home. He wouldn’t be there later, either, he imagined. ‘Choly tangled up inside himself with grief. Of all the people he’d failed since emerging from the vault, he’d failed Jacob Hawthorne. Immediately. He could have told him the insects had been dealt with. Could have told him it was safe to go home now... But he left Jacob at the Red Rocket with that furiously territorial dog... Was there enough for him and the dog both to eat? What had the ghoul even been eating all this time? There couldn’t reasonably have been much food left in Sanctuary or the recoolant station...

“Would you look at that,” Sturges awed. “I think I just found my new vacation home.”

The recoolant station. Still phased a bubble off reality, ‘Choly’s attention fell upon the building as they passed it. His chest tightened.

“Your idea of heaven, eh, Sturges?” Preston Garvey turned his head to grin at him, but continued moving. “Looks like there could be lots of salvage. Let’s get to Sanctuary first, though.”

The ghouls’ bodies. The ghouls’ bodies were gone. They’d either been moved, or had gotten up on their own. Surely the dog hadn’t--

“Y-- there’s already somebody living there,” the chemist blurted out. His poker face failed, between his withdrawals and episode fumes. “He’s got a dog that. Despises visitors. We should steer clear of him. Give him and his dog some space.”

“Ah yes. A German shepherd, as I recall,” Angel quipped absently, still carrying Mama Murphy. “Angry thing.”

“A reclusive neighbor.” Sturges paused thoughtfully a spell, to wipe his brow. “Suppose I’d pick the recoolant station, too, if I could live in any building in this blasted corner of the Commonwealth. No offense, Carey, if you’re from around here.”

“None taken. It is pretty ruined out here, isn’t it?” He let out a self-conscious chuckle. “Not much salvage anywhere. I’ve already been through most of Concord a few months ago...”

“We’ll just have our work cut out for us, fixing up Sanctuary,” Preston encouraged. “Making it our little slice of paradise.”

“Oh! to see it restored to its former glory!” Angel had to bestill its body language or risk tipping Mama off balance atop him. “My servos swell at the thought of it, Mister Garvey!”

With the verdigris-bronze statue in the near distance, Preston let out a low whistle.

“Well I’ll be damned. It’s the monument to the original Minutemen. I knew that was somewhere around Concord. That means... this right here... must be the Old North Bridge.” He pointed to the half-collapsed wooden bridge across the water which isolated the suburb of Sanctuary Hills from the surrounding area. “Where the first shots of the American Revolution were fired. I’d call that the best omen I’ve seen since we left Quincy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Preston, but I’m glad you’re happy about it,” Sturges said.

“Never would have imagined I’d end up back here.” The words were out of ‘Choly’s mouth before he could even register he’d said them.

“Your energy’s tied to this place, isn’t it, Carey?” Mama Murphy inquired softly.

At Mama’s nudging, Angel had fallen back to where ‘Choly had loitered even further behind the rest of them. She wanted to talk. He didn’t.

“I used to live here... a long time ago.” ‘Choly felt like he could be vague with her, but that she could see through an outright lie.

“The distant past ain’t so distant for you. When we first met, I saw you leave that ice box. This whole world is like some bad dream you can’t wake up from, isn’t it?”

‘Choly flinched and squirmed, hating that here on this turn of the road of all places, was where she wanted to have this conversation.

“...Stop. Please, just stop. I don’t know how it is you do what you do, but I can’t handle reliving this. Not again. It’s bad enough to be coming home.”

“I’m... sorry.” Her brow raised as her eyes fell distant, and the rest of her face slacked into a vague frown. “The Sight doesn’t tell me what’s private and what’s not. I see it plain as day. You, waking up in a world that isn’t yours. Finding what’s become of everything, of... everyone. I... can feel the hurt and confusion you felt right here. On this street. You’ve been through so much, Carey. Angel, are you sure you don’t want to take him the rest of the way, dear?”

“--No, Angel. Don’t worry. We’re almost there.” The chemist gave Mama a thousand-yard stare, distraught with how horrific it must be to have whatever the Sight was. He struggled all the while to shove down any recollection what happened the week he emerged from Vault 111. “You can’t direct what kind of information the Sight gives you? You can’t... turn it off, either, can you?”

She shook her head.

“I get... flashes all the time. The energies imprinted in things and places and people. I’m lucky when it makes sense immediately. The chems, though.” She smiled a little, her gaze still miles away. “The chems piece together the flashes into a... motion picture? Isn’t that what they were called? You used to see them all the time.”

“Is-- there a chance that I have the Sight, too?” He bordered on tears. “Because of the Jet, I saw what was going to happen to Jared, and I made it happen. For months before that, Jared thought I might have it, except backwards. Ever since I stepped out of the vault, I... I keep reliving things. Vividly. Lucidly. I thought it might be daydreams, but it’s too traumatic, too automatic, and too throttling. I come out of the episode, and I can’t remember what I was doing. I keep remembering exiting the vault. Things from my military work. Things that transpired between me and my roommate. The day the bombs fell, Missus Murphy. Surely, if anyone could understand what I’m going through, it would be you, with your Sight.” He nearly reached out for her in his desperation for her to understand what he was describing. His face slacked in recognition. “--Murphy. You couldn’t be related to a... Nate or Nora, could you?”

“I can’t trace my lineage back to before the war, kiddo. I don’t think anyone in my family’s from around here, though. Grew up in Quincy. It’s all I know. Didn’t gain the Sight, either. Was born with it.” Her face furrowed with warm concern for him, coming back to present day finally. “Surviving extreme pain can rewire the brain where it does really horrible things to us. It’s an organ, too, just as much as any part of us, and it can get ill all the same. The Sight sees forward, Carey. You’re describing a quintessential survivorship. You and Jun Long have a lot in common in that regard. He lost his son. Recently, to the ghouls in Lexington. Neither of you’s handling it so great, but it’s to be expected. The losses you’ve both experienced in such a short time, it’s bad enough to walk through it through the eyes of the Sight. I can’t even imagine what it must do to the two of you, to go through it firsthand.”

“It’s unimaginable, to know that you’re subjected to all this through your Sight. I hate to be callous, between your description and mine...” He swallowed, forming the words. “Are you absolutely certain that you don’t simply always have the Sight, and that you use the chems to dull the agony of seeing what you see?”

“Oh, kid. Kid. No.” She frowned, heartache evident on her face. “The chems only make it worse. More real. Clearer. If you think the chems make it easier for you to cope, what you’re experiencin’ is not in any way the Sight. I don’t know what to tell you about you knowin’ he’d be a monster, other than it inspired ya to do somethin’ horrible with a good outcome. The chems are a tool, and nothin’ more. There ain’t nothin’ in this world makes it easier to handle what I see an’ what I know, besides learnin’ that it made a difference to somebody.”

“You... you really think that the Sight can help me? You said something about having unfinished business. You can’t tell me anything about what you saw, can you? Did you see Lowell? Did you see the military base?”

“If I use chems to intensify the Sight, anything I see during it is that much hazier when it wears off. If you’ve got Jet, it’s the easiest on my system, but I suppose I can work with just about anything. I can sort it all out for you. Once we’ve gotten to Sanctuary. Once we’ve gotten a chance to rest. We all deserve some rest, Carey. Even you. Come on. The rest of the group’s already way ahead of us.”

“You’re right,” he relented.

So the chemist, his Mister Handy, and the seer pressed onward across the bridge.

Nothing makes it easier, besides learning that it made a difference to somebody... Making a difference to somebody. 'Choly marinated on what Mama’d had to say. He had to find some kind of value in these visions. Positive value. He’d convinced Jared of their value, and all it had done was hurt people, kill. Every action he’d taken since his reawakening was self-serving and an unbridled, capitalism-fueled survival instinct. Surely, through the episodes he could also heal, and heal others. And one person in particular was owed the distinction of his first extension of an attempt at bringing healing to the blighted suburb of Sanctuary Hills.

But Mama was right. He needed to rest, to collect his faculties, before he could even try. He’d start trying to do better tomorrow.

Not even paying attention to where Angel and Mama went off to, as he crossed the bridge into Sanctuary, 'Choly’s eyes followed his cautious, hobbling feet so the tip of his cane didn’t get stuck in the planks, and remained on the ground once back on the concrete. Second house on the left. He caught himself staring at the Chryslus coupe on its side. Though rust had eaten away the paint job, he knew that it had once been sky blue.

Jacob loved that car, he lamented to himself with a sardonic smile. It would kill him to see it like this. Maybe I could ask Preston to at least tip it back on its belly, with the strength of the power armor. He barely kept himself from thinking about how Jacob had thrown him into the car that day, and sped the two of them home so ‘Choly could run to the vault. I promised him they’d let him in. The military made me a liar...

“I wonder what else the military made me,” he mouthed in a haunted delirium, stepping through the blasted threshold of the house they once shared.

“Hey, we were here first,” Marcy snipped with her feet tucked up in the seat of the armchair with her. “There’s no beds in here, either. Jun and I are sharing the couch for right now.”

He glared at the married couple and came unhinged.

“--OUT!” ‘Choly bellowed. He pointed his cane at the doorless door. “OUT!! There’s no beds here! There’s beds in several of the other houses! If you have to have a bed! Take your pick!”

“Didn’t you hear me?”

“OUT!”

‘Choly threw down the coat rack and started throwing all the flush-mount shelves into the floor. Anything he could grab, he toppled, until they left in a panic.

He stood there heaving in the middle of the mess he’d made. The sound of heavy pneumatic steps of power armor approached, and he looked up to find Preston standing on his front step with a confused scowl.

“Woah. Woah woah woah. On what planet was that okay?” he started, flourishing his body language with his laser musket. “There’s a dozen houses here.”

“And this one’s mine.” When Preston didn’t understand, the chemist pointed at the mailbox label. The Minuteman humored him and glanced at it.

“But it says Hawthorne,” Preston started, befuddled as ever. “You said your name’s Carey--”

“Roommates,” he heaved. The loathing exhaustion of everything that day was finally crashing down on him, only compounded by the stress of being stared down by someone in power armor.

“What are you trying to say?” He squinted difficultly at ‘Choly.

“What do you think I’m trying to say?” Words failed ‘Choly.

“That you... lived here. Before the war.” Preston’s eyes widened, and he adjusted the brim of his hat as he thought on his wording. “Like one of those prewar ghouls... Certainly look a lot more together than any I’ve ever seen, but you’re nothing but surprises.”

“You... you think I’m a ghoul?” ‘Choly couldn’t tell if Preston was being serious, or mocking him, and it burned to be compared to something as beautiful as what his roommate had become. “I still don’t think I understand what a ghoul is.”

“Not exactly, no. They get all gnarly, from the radiation. Lose body parts and some flesh usually. Their voice gets all hoarse and raspy. I mean it when I said they’re people just like you and me. The normal ones, they’re good people. It’s the ones that got too much radiation that get violent and dangerous.”

“They really are just like other humans, right?” ‘Choly didn’t like asking it, but had to, after what he’d seen on the return trip in front of the recoolant station. “If they die, they can’t just... get up and walk away?”

Preston glared at him in fear.

“I don’t know what kind of stories you’ve been hearing, but I hope that never happens in my life.”

“There were things in fiction, before the war, that were dead things. But they weren’t really dead. People called them ‘zombies.’ I’d say life imitated art, but you just told me that ghouls stay dead.” Then, to comfort the horrified man, he lied, “I’m grateful that much is true. Of all the ways to violate nature, defying death is among the most upsetting to imagine.”

“Fiction needs to stay fiction.” Preston shook the thought from his mind, only to have a gap in ‘Choly’s logic sink in. “Wait. You mean to tell me you’ve been alive over two hundred years, but you still don’t know what a ghoul is?”

“I... only just woke up a few months ago.” The chemist gave him a self-conscious smile before breaking eye contact. He had to sit down, and rested against the back of the couch. “I was... frozen. In a vault. It’s what damaged my body. Either they didn’t do it right, or something malfunctioned. I made it out, but...”

“It’s all right.” Preston held up a hand, not wanting ‘Choly to continue. “You don’t have to relive that stuff if you don’t want. It’s not my business, unless you want it to be. This whole group has some painful baggage we’re hauling around with us, myself included. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you made it out alive, and I’m glad you came to help us in the museum. It was some good fate.”

“--Don’t go in the vault,” ‘Choly managed to say. “It’s up on the hill to the Northwest of the suburb. It might seem like it’s safe, but it’s been filling up with asphyxiating gases from the cryogenics pods for months now. You’ll suffocate without proper respiratory gear.”

“Looking out for us, in advance. I’ll get word around that it’s not safe yet.”

“Can I ask you one more thing before I ask you to let me get some sleep?” He half-joked, “All I want to do right now is sleep another two hundred years.”

“Shoot.”

“Why... do you believe that what Mama Murphy sees is always true, or going to be true? Isn’t it just chem fumes?”

“Well, it’s gotten us this far, hasn’t it?” Preston grinned at him. “I’ve gotta have faith in something. I’ll talk to the others and do my best to explain how this is your place, and to give you some space. We all deserve some boundaries.”

The Minuteman tipped his hat brim to leave and went to go check on the Longs.

Once he was alone, out of habit ‘Choly went to his room to remove his orthotics and take down his hair, leaving the braces and bobby pins in the chest of drawers. He returned to the couch, and collapsed in his untucked shirt and slacks, using his muddy pharm corps coat for a blanket. His glasses went on the armrest, and the instant his eyes shut, he was out cold.

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#fallout 4 fanfic #mama murphy #preston garvey #fallout 4 #fo4 fanfic #sole survivor #automatron mister handy #the anatomy of melancholy #sanctuary hills #red rocket truck stop #melancholy

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edlifeacademy · 4 years

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queen-scribbles · 7 years

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Hidden Talents

For @pillarspromptsweekly #7, finally get to do something with Tavi and Edér’s friendship. :3

She really should have seen it coming.

Months of fighting alongside someone, she really should’ve been more familiar with his fighting style. But whether due to the pounding adrenaline or simply being out of practice, Tavi missed the body language cues. And the wooden shield made hard enough contact to land her on her ass, then flat on her back, looking up at a sunny blue sky and the beard-framed grin of one of her best friends.

“Sorry,” Edér chuckled as he offered her a hand up. “Thought you were gonna block that.”

“I should’ve,” Tavi groused, taking his hand and letting him pull her to her feet. “I fuckin’ missed somethin’. Must be out of practice.”

He clapped her on the back, grin widening at the puff of dust that rose from her shirt. “You’ve been busy runnin’ Caed Nua and chasin’ off suitors. Guess there ain’t much time in there for fightin’, even to practice.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Hasn’t stopped you, Mayor Teylecg.”

Edér snorted. “I ain’t chasin’ off suitors who wanna marry me for my title. An’ one village is a sight more manageable than everywhere you’re in charge of.”

Tavi grinned. “You mean the ladies of Dyrford aren’t after you like fampyrs after fresh blood? I think I might be offended on your behalf.”

“Don’t be,” he said wryly. “‘Specially not with that analogy.”

“Oh, come on, Teylecg,” she needled as she bent down to retrieve her swords. “I know you’re jealous of my good looks.”

“An’ I know you’re only visitin’ Dyrford to distract yourself from the fact Aloth’s been gone a month,” Edér shot back as they stowed the practice weapons in the small shed by the training ground.

“No!” Tavi protested, pretending wounded outrage. She rocked up on the balls of her feet and bit her lip. “‘M also hidin’ from a-fuckin’-nother wave of gods-damned suitors.”

Edér chuckled. “Gotta hand it to Dyrwoodans, we’re a stubborn lot. You’re gonna have to do somethin’ big if you wanna scare ‘em off for good.”

“How big’re we talkin’?” Tavi pushed the door of the shed closed. “‘Cause I already tried claimin’ Aloth was my consort. He didn’t like that much, and it didn’t discourage Thayn Whatsisname in the slightest.”

“I dunno,” Edér shrugged as they started walking back to his house. “I’ve only been mayor a couple months, Tav. Haven’t had time t’ brush up on all the nobility’s tricks yet.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re no help.”

He grinned. “I have a private stash of really good ale an’ I’ll listen to ya vent.”

“I take it back, you’re a huge help.”

>|<

Edér’s house looked exactly as you’d expect if you knew the man--simple and cozy--and much the same as it had on Tavi’s last visit. With one exception.

“Didn’t have you figured for a flowers guy, Edér,” Tavi needled, brushing her fingers against the fringes of the arrangement that sat in the middle of the table.

He shrugged. “’M not. Those were a gift. Woulda been rude to just pitch ‘em.”

“From who? An’ for what?” Tavi asked, grinning as she slouched in one of the comfortable chairs by the fireplace. The fact she was having to probe for more details instead of the usually-chatty blond just offering them made her think there was a story there.

“One of the new settlers we got thanks t’ the offer of free land. We got to talkin’ and it came out she’s also Eothasian. Priest, even. Seein’ as we’re just about the only two for a day’s walk any direction, I helped her set up a spot on her land, just a little place for us to pray away from pryin’ eyes.” He shrugged again and lit his pipe as he dropped into the chair across from Tavi. “I don’t much care who knows what god I follow, and they’re welcome to keep movin’ if they don’t like it, but it’s nice to have someone who believes the same.”

“I’ll bet,” Tavi said, picking dirt from under her nails and fighting a smile as she studied the flowers. “Does this Eothasian priest who gives flowers as a thank you have a name?”

“Charity,” Edér replied around a puff of smoke. “And I gotta ask; what’s so funny?”

“Just wonderin’ how much Charity knows about flower language,” Tavi replied innocently. She wasn’t hiding the smile anymore. “Or if she just picked things that look pretty and got really lucky.”

“Flower what?” Edér shot her a skeptical look.

“Flowers have meanings,” Tavi explained. “Like a language. You can use ‘em to send messages an’ stand for shit an- what?”

Edér grinned and blew out more smoke. “That just seems like a very not-you thing for you to know,” he laughed.

She rolled her eyes. “It is probably the most cultured and least fuckin’ useful thing I know. Blame my mother. She was a florist. Livin’ with that for almost thirty fuckin’ years... I couldn’t avoid learnin’ it. The only plant knowledge that’s useful is what’ll kill ya versus cure ya. A lot of the plants in the Dyrwood are different from Old Vailia, but some things are hardy enough to be universal.”

Edér was still grinning. “All that time travelin’ together and we never knew. Got any more hidden talents?”

“Does singin’ like a fuckin’ rusty hinge count?” Tavi asked snarkily, deliberately steering away from the rest of the list.

“Depends on how drunk your audience is,” he returned.

“Touche,” she laughed, then nodded toward the flowers. “You wanna know what they mean? If she wasn’t just going for pretty?”

Edér slouched further into his seat. “Sure. You’ve piqued my curiosity.”

Tavi pushed out of her chair and walked back over to the flowers rubbing petals gently between her fingers. “Well, first of all, the part that made me laugh is the moss. You don’t need moss on somethin’ that’s gonna be fuckin’ indoors. But moss signifies charity, so that’s her havin’ a damn good sense of humor an’ essentially signin’ her name. You better stay friends with her.”

“Aye, aye,” Edér laughed, running a hand through his hair, eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched her.

“The cattails are what tipped me off,” she explained, tracing along one with her index finger. “You don’t often use them you’re aimin’ for pretty, but they symbolize prosperity, so they’re perfect for an arrangement put together for, say, the mayor of your new hometown. Same with the white heather; that’s for... protection, I’m pretty sure.” She shot him a playful smile as she stroked deep blue-ish purple petals. “Iris stands for friendship. So you haven’t scared her off.”

Edér made a face at her. “Hey, I was a perfect gentleman. Y’know, as suits a mayor.”

“Good for you,” Tavi said teasingly, even as she frowned at the last of the flowers; a round white bloom, with overlapping layers of petals circling a cheery yellow center. “I... don’t know this one...” she finally admitted.

“Well, you’re no help,” Edér teased, mirroring her ribbing.

“Fuck you,” Tavi retorted, but the smile she couldn’t hide took all the venom from the words. “So I’m out of practice, or this is one of your stupid Dyrwoodan flowers I don’t know. You get the fuckin’ point; she appreciates your friendship and wishes for protection and prosperity for you and presumably the village. So there.”

“I take it back, you’re a huge help.”

She rolled her eyes. “You-”

Someone knocked on the door.

Tavi let her burgeoning exasperation out in a huff. “I’ll get it. I’m closer.”

Edér just grinned and didn’t argue. Tavi opened the door to reveal an athletically built woman with dark red hair tied back in a ponytail, her hands curled under a small black pot.

She blinked at the sight of Tavi. “Oh, hello.”

Tavi grinned. “Hello yourself. I’m-”

“Tavi,” the redhead finished for her. “Edér’s talked about you.” She shifted her grip on the cast iron pot so she could shake hands. “I’m Charity.”

“Ah, you’re the priest.” Tavi’s grin widened. “Here, that looks heavy, come on in.”

“Thanks.” Charity stepped past her and set the pot on the table. “Hey, Edér. Just wanted to bring this back. Wasn’t sure when you’d need it again.”

Edér chuckled as he pushed to his feet. “That didn’t last long.”

Charity shrugged. “What can I say; workin’ hard builds a good appetite, and you’re a much better cook than me.” She gave a self-deprecating snort. “Which isn’t saying much.”

“Well, if you liked it that much, I’ll hafta make ya some more,” Edér said, setting down his pipe and reaching for the pot. “Maybe teach ya the recipe. It ain’t that hard.”

Charity laughed. “ Edér, I can and have burned water. But if you think I ave a chance...”

“’Course. No one’s a completely lost cause,” he smiled. “Might take a little work, but I’m sure you could learn. If you wanna.”

“Why not?” She returned his smile. “I’ll stop by later so we can work out a time. Right now I need to get to Hendyna’s. She got a really big potion order and I told her I’d help whip ‘em up.”

“Oh, are you good with plants?” Tavi interject, barely holding back a laugh when Edér and Charity started as if they’d forgotten she was there.

“Um, yeah, I am,” Chairty said, playing with the end of her ponytail.

“Can you tell me what this flower is?” Tavi pointed to the white blossom she’d been unable to identify. “It’s the only one in here I don’t know, and it’s drivin’ me crazy.”

“That’s a camellia,” Charity enlightened her. “They’re not very common in the Dyrwood, but I’m determined to keep the ones in my garden alive.”

“Thanks, that would’ve bugged me forever,” Tavi said, raking her fingers through her hair. “We’ll let you go now.”

“Oh, thank you.” Charity started toward the door. “It was nice to meet you, Tavi. And, Edér, I’ll stop by later to chat?”

“Sure thing,” he drawled. “See ya then.”

Tavi barely waited for the door to close behind Charity before breaking out in an ear to ear grin. “Wow.”

“Wow, what?” Edér asked as he picked up the pot.

“You an’ Charity. Hylea’s motherfuckin’ tits, Edér. Were me an’ Aloth that bad before we, y’know, caved?”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” From his grin, he was either dead serious or fucking with her.

Either way, Tavi growled in frustration and decided to drop it. “Never mind. What’s this about you bein’ a good cook? I didn’t know you could fuckin’ cook.”

Edér shrugged. “‘S ‘cause I didn’t tell ya. You ain’t the only one with hidden talents.”

She whacked his arm. “No shit, bazzo. Why?”

“Was afraid you’d make me share cookin’ duties,” he needled. The grin was back, and Tavi smacked him again. “Hey, now. You’re a good cook, too, Tavi. Why would I deprive everyone of that?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You’re still an asshole.”

“Guilty.”

“I think you owe me dinner for that,” she groused, fighting a smile.

“Sure,” Edér nodded. “Sounds fair.”

“An’ if you ever want help puttin’ together flowers for Charity, just say the word,” Tavi hinted.

“Dunno when I’d need that, but good to know. Y’wanna help cut up vegetables?” He turned to head for the kitchen, taking the pot with him.

Tavi huffed an exasperated breath through her nose, hands curling in a strangling motion behind his back. “Sure, why not?” She pitched her voice lower as she followed. ”Swear to Hylea, if we were half that blind...”

“You were worse,” Edér called over his shoulder.

Tavi skidded to a halt, knees briefly locking. “What?”

“Much worse,” he elaborated cheerfully, before resuming course.

She was left staring at his back, eyes narrowing as she conceded, Okay, I should have seen that coming.

Now if she could just get him to be honest about Charity... Tavi grinned as she glanced at the flowers. She was fairly confident she could make it happen. Despite her earlier deflection, she was a woman of many hidden talents.

--------------------------------------------------------------

(white camellia is for affection, btw, so Charity’s not being subtle at all--if you know what she’s ‘saying’)

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #tavi illani #eder teylecg

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kanjikiwi · 7 years

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Hi! I wonder if you have any tip for instilling grammar points into one's brain. I realized I have around 300 grammatical expressions to memorize and I'm...discouraged, to say the least

Hi anon! The good news is, you’re among friends.. *smiles through ugly tears* The unfortunate news is that I am not aware of a quick way to nail grammar. Grammar is a slow burn. Any grammar that sticks with me is grammar which I have been exposed to over and over (through reading and listening) and which I have had to wield myself (through writing and speaking)

This means following up with any book/systematic learnin’ with fun stuff like: Japanese TV and music, Anime, Manga, Japanese/English novels and short stories, having conversations with Japanese people (the hellotalk app is especially helpful here) and writing Japanese sentences and phrases to get that nice analog hand-to-brain connection.

Grammar is formulaic and rule based, but grammar in action is creative, poetic and intuitive - so the above tactic deals rather nicely with that duality. Dual wield bb! Here’s an article to throw a little weight on this.

For time sensitive learning i.e. cramming for a test, spaced repetition is by far the most effective way of retaining information, and some grammar patterns can be fed into an SRS system such as Anki or Memrise and instilled through recall at timed intervals - however - I find these systems are better suited to vocabulary and kanji. That said, I think this method still has great merit and may be a good option if you’re not utilising it already.

Unfortunately for all enquiring, my take on language learning is vague and loosely structured and I enjoy learning this way. So:

If anyone reading has discovered some handy ways to retain grammar, please flick me a message and I will pass your tips on!

Take heart anon. You’re part of the host of hopeful and weary learners. Even if we can’t solve all these problems easily, at least we’ve got each-other’s backs.

#asks #anon asks #kanjikiwi

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shineethinks · 7 years

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Hey mum !! I have a question. Since you're from Korea, do you have any tips on learnin it ?? Bc I'm trying to learn how to read/speak/understand it but it's a lil bit hard

hi bebs! i’m actually from america but am korean-american! subtle difference, and it means that korean is not my first language and i learned it as well! i grew up hearing the language but didn’t really start speaking it fluently until i got into high school (and i can speak it a lot better than i can read, though i’m getting better with practice). what i think is really important (as it is with all languages) is immersing yourself. of course, everyone is different but here are a few tips:

it might be easier to focus on either speaking or reading first as you might get overwhelmed if you’re trying to do both

understand that korean is different than other languages (for example english, but i’m told that it’s similar to japanese) in syntax so that the sentence structure is seems completely off so that sometimes you have to listen to the entire sentence to understand the meaning.

i think that this is a more technical thing that could be learned and understood through workbooks and i’ve heard that “Learn Korean - Grammar” is a pretty good app!

i encourage you to seek out resources like youtube videos, language websites, etc, that suit YOU and your learning preference

listen to people talking in dramas, variety shows, etc, with subtitles on! you’ll start recognizing certain words that are used a lot

you actually find yourself learning quite a bit through shows because you also get the benefit of hearing how words are pronounced

the korean alphabet is relatively simple and that’s mostly a matter of memorization; there are 2 “alphabets”: the “consonants” such as ㄱ, ㄴ, ㄷ, and the “vowels” such as ㅏ, ㅣ, ㅓ, and it helps to learn them separately before you make them into words

in korean school, they have you write out each of the alphabets, and later words that you learn

so that with time you’ll be able to put together the consonants like: ㅇ, ㅁ ; and vowels like:ㅓ, ㅏ to make 엄마 (mom) eventually!

if you have someone who is fluent in korean around you i would say to try to speak/text in korean with them and they would often correct you when you are wrong (srsly my mom does this for me and it’s helped my spelling so much)

don’t give up! korean is a difficult language and can be daunting especially when you’re learning it for the first time

YOU GOT THIS HWAITING!!!!

#about korean

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samingtonwilson · 7 years

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Loot - Part 4 - Jim Kirk

Loot masterlist

Word count: 2,486 Warnings: language, mentions of abuse/injuries

A/N: another long part filled with nonsense. this part really got away from me tbh, it’ll be totally back on track soon. it just doesn’t feel believable to me to have something intense happen every time (although, arguably, believability is shot to hell when you’re writing about a sci-fi franchise). i wanted this story to be more about the reader and their feelings and jim and his feelings. i hope his feelings toward the reader are obvious without me having to point blank write them-- like i hope you can tell through mannerisms. anyway, i’ve had a trying week and apologize if i missed some typos. lemme know if you wanna be tagged! ENJOY AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK

The artifact was becoming a pain— something you could say literally after the ancient hunk of metal scalded the skin of your palm and wrist, and something you could say figuratively after you were forced out of your oven-like temporary quarters more often than not for the past three days.

According to a drunken, loud-mouthed Ensign Chekov, the Enterprise had flown through a nebula that threw off the ship’s electrical balance. It caused the air systems, the warp core, and practically every electronic on the ship to be knocked out of equilibrium and into much more volatile, unpredictable states— a statement you could confirm due to the onset timing of the artifact’s volatility.

When it came to the air systems, cool air would blast out of the vent when warm air was desired and vice versa. As for the warp core, several engineers found themselves in the medbay clutching burns from the core’s overheating while electronics such as communicators and PADDs shorted out, shut off, and came back to life upon whim.

Hearing that all the malfunctions were due to a nebula was a relief but the initial worry you experienced lingered a little. You wondered if the problems were being exacerbated by the artifact and almost had your suspicions confirmed when rumor had it the ship’s chief engineer, Scotty claimed this particular nebula couldn’t have been the only cause for so many issues.

You found yourself wishing you’d taken Jim up on his offer to explain to you why the artifact was so important. You also found yourself wishing you could pry a window open and throw the damn thing into the dark abyss of space— no amount of tuition was worth the pain it was causing you and the potential pain it could cause the hundreds of people on board.

As you sat atop a biobed in Exam Room 1 of the medbay, you swung your legs in order to appear more nonchalant than your ever-circulating thoughts actually had you feeling. You watched McCoy stand with his back against the edge of the counter, his hazel eyes narrowed as he read the screen of his PADD with his most casual frown.

“You can tell me if I’m dying— I’m strong enough to take it.”

“You’re not dyin’,�� he snorted, his typical peach cobbler Southern drawl sounding thicker somehow. “You want to tell me how you keep gettin’ these burns, though?”

You clicked your tongue. “I told you all I had to tell three days ago.”

“Yeah, yeah— the malfunctions are making your replicator short out. It’s just, these don’t look like burns from hot dishes.”

“Then pray tell, Doctor, what do they look like?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “They’re too extensive to have been caused by what you’re suggesting— a grab-and-drop scenario. It’s like you held onto whatever it was while it burnt you.”

He softened his features then— his nostrils were no longer flared, his eyebrows were knit together, and his frown shrunk. He pulled a stool and placed it in front of you, sitting upon it and taking your hand in his.

You looked at him confusedly and blinked.

“You’re not doin’ this to yourself, are you, darlin’?” he asked in a quiet voice filled with a degree of understanding you didn’t know any human being could be capable of. His eyes seemed to melt like chocolate before you. “I can see from your file you haven’t had it easy. Treatments for the odd bouts of internal bleeding, spiral fractures, burns— it's all typical of something that raises a red flag.”

“Yeah? A red flag?” you asked with overly mock curiosity. “Indicative of what?”

“Abuse.”

You scoffed. “I was a student athlete,” you told him easily. So easily, in fact, that you weren’t worried about your voice shaking, nor were you worried about it heightening in octaves. You were able to keep your gaze steadily in his. You’d said those words too many times for them to not come out flawlessly. “Everyone broke a fair share of bones and was covered in bruises.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What about the burns?”

“Recent burns or historically?”

“Historically, sweetheart.”

“I’m a terrible cook,” you shrugged again. You once again had no issues keeping your voice still and your gaze steady. “Resilient, since I keep trying, but terrible. Had the fire department at the ready each time I picked up a pan.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“(Y/N), —”

“Enough, Bones!” you almost shouted, the nickname flowing out naturally most likely due to the extensive amount of time you spent with Jim. As blood rose to the tips of your ears and the base of your throat, you clutched onto the edges of the biobed. “Right now, these burns are because of a replicator and healing them should be your only concern. My history—” you sighed out a curse and shook your head once. “I don’t even know most of my history.”

“You know, your past can impact your future,” he added after a few beats of silence.

“Thank you, Sigmund Freud,” you said dryly, smiling when his lips curved upwards and he shook with silent laughter. You set your hand on his shoulder. “I’m aware of what the past can do. But you have nothing to worry about— not with past me, or current me. It’s just a replicator.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

He nodded once. “All right, I’ll take your word for it.”

He rose from the stool and kicked it aside with the sole of his boot. He picked his PADD up once more and began tapping on the screen. “I’ll give you a salve to take back to your quarters— an extra large jar because you don’t seem to be learnin’ your lesson with that replicator.”

“I won’t have to come back here?”

He glanced at you and snorted. “Don’t look so happy ‘bout that. It hurts my ego.”

You laughed. “Sorry. It’s not you. It’s this exam room, this medbay, this ship.” You shook your head and wet your lips. “I just want to be back on Earth— forget this whole thing ever happened.”

“Careful who you say that to, sweetheart. You might break a heart without realizin’ it.”

Though it was nowhere near the path you were meant to be taking, you stopped at the observation deck prior to even contemplating sending the turbolift to Excited Ensign Village. Of course, you were prompted to do so by a transmission McCoy received on his communicator and didn’t go on your own accord— a fact that, alone, decreased your cognitive dissonance tenfold only to have it shoot back up the moment you felt your own excitement.

You weren’t dating Jim. There was no feasible way you, a cadet with sticky fingers, could date Jim, golden boy and captain of the best ship in the fleet. You were aboard his ship, for crying out loud— a ship you were only still on due to medical orders and a ship you originally boarded due to the artifact which was metaphorically, and quite literally, burning a hole in your quarters. You were just sleeping with him— nothing more, nothing less. It was a violation of goodness knows how many rules, but Jim never made you feel for an instant that he didn’t think the infringements were worth it.

You were having trouble convincing yourself that you didn’t want to actually date Jim, that you didn’t like Jim as much as your body would have you believing. Your heartbeat would slowly increase at the sight of him, grinning thuds almost bursting through your ribs whenever he touched you— your skin would react as well, goosebumps rising in the wake of his lips and fingertips, and your knees would betray you at any opportunity. It was unlike the feelings of attraction and fondness you had previously experienced and the whole thing, beyond physiological reactions, made you sick.

You were disgusted at yourself for the way your body reacted to him, yes, but you were more disgusted at the tendency of your mind to drop whatever guard you had. In your mind, you shouldn’t have been so comfortable around him and you should have kept yourself away from him the moment he went from being a stranger to someone you wanted to call your own.

You pulled your sleeves over your hands so the ends reached your fingertips and cleared your throat as you stepped into the observation lounge to gain Jim’s attention. When he turned halfway to meet your gaze, you nodded towards the extremely large window he stood before. “This is nice.”

He hummed in agreement, turning back around. His hands were in the pockets of his trousers, his back straight in tense-Captain-Mode as his jaw was hardened into sharp lines. “Yeah, it is. It’s my favorite place on the ship.”

“Aside from your chair?”

He laughed through his nose, looking over at you when you stood beside him to stare at the thick glass. You saw in his reflection that the smile over his lips was small, but it touched his eyes. He leaned towards you and said softly, “Including my chair.”

As you turned your head to face him, your nose brushed against his. You watched while his posture lost a bit of staunch. You had to stop yourself from kissing him the instant he momentarily glanced at your lips. “Including? You must really have a thing for this window.”

He hummed again. He bumped his shoulder against yours so you staggered to the side, a smile playing at his plump lips. “I come here whenever I’ve had a stressful day and it just… it puts everything in perspective.”

“So you had a stressful day?”

“Not particularly.” He shrugged. “Just wanted to share this with you in case you’re ever stressed, uneasy, or upset. On the Enterprise, on Earth, wherever you end up, looking at the stars really puts things into perspective.”

“The whole ‘we’re so small, our problems are so small’ thing?”

He clicked his tongue. “The whole ‘there’s always light’ thing.”

You wanted to smile but frowned in consideration instead. “That’s awfully poetic. Why me, though?”

He hummed questioningly without looking away from the view before him.

“Why did you decide to share this with me? Does it seem like I’m upset, or stressed, or uneasy?”

He ignored your question. “I know you aren’t a fan of where your quarters are, but injuring yourself to take up residence in the medbay is somewhat excessive.”

“I’m not injuring myself.”

“Then how do you explain that?” he asked, nodding his head towards your gauze wrapped wrist and forearm.

You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest. You kept your eyes on the glass, staring at his reflection rather than letting your eyes meet his. “Well, I don’t explain it. Because I don’t feel the need to.”

Jim snorted and shook his head. He held his hand out and wiggled his fingers wordlessly.

“I understand that this window makes you emotional and deep, Jimbo, but I’m not going to hold your hand for support,” you said dryly, trying to suppress a smile when he clicked his tongue.

“Give me your damn arm, Cadet.”

You turned your body to face him entirely and set your forearm in his hand with admittedly a bit more force than you should’ve, a sharp pang of pain coursing up your limb. You weren’t able to hide a hiss and wince.

His eyes flew to yours as he heard the sharp inhale through your teeth. The baby blue of his irises and the concern overflowing from them made your breath hitch in your throat. For your own good, you wanted to look away but, for the life of you, you couldn’t.

“What happened?”

“My attitude overtook my better judgement.”

“Consider it a punishment for insubordination,” he mumbled as he undid the gauze wrapping. He narrowed his eyes at your arm and sighed. “These look bad.”

“They’ll be fine soon enough— probably won’t even leave a mark.”

He looked at you incredulously. “Why would marks be my concern?”

“I can’t imagine why any of this is your concern.”

If you’d thought there was no way he could look more outraged, you were proven wrong then. He didn’t speak on it, though, only winding the bandage once again. He reclasped the metal hook so your wound was bound tightly and turned your hand over, looking at your palm. “The burns hurting you, the cause of the burns— those are my concern.”

You averted your gaze and took your hand from his. You set your fingertips on the glass, your palms flat against the surface. You caught a glimpse of his reflection and noticed his eyes on you, his arms crossed over his chest. “Chekov told me your chief engineer’s trying to track down the source of all the electrical shortages. He doesn’t think it’s just that nebula?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Jim answered, his eyes watching your fingertips as you absentmindedly pressed them in each place you saw the glow of a far off star. “Scotty thinks the effects of the nebula should’ve worn off by now, but next to nothing’s returned to homeostasis. You know, you can’t count the stars no matter what system you use.”

You frowned, stretching your arm to reach higher stars. “What do you think?”

“That you may be smart, but every system fails. There are too many stars.”

“About Scotty’s theory, you idiot,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“I think I have no knowledge on anything pertaining to engineering.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have an opinion.”

“My opinion is you should stop burning yourself.”

You glared at him and pinched his arm with as much force as you could muster, his hand slapping yours away as he yelped in surprise pain. “Is he going to investigate it further?”

Jim kept rubbing his bicep. “He’s planning on it. He thinks he can detect where the frequencies are highest and go from there.”

“Frequencies?”

“Electro… something. I told you I have no knowledge on anything having to do with this stuff.” He eyed you for a second with a single eyebrow raised. “Why are you so interested?”

You did your best to look nonchalant. “There’s nothing else to do on this ship. No one’s doing anything noteworthy— Uhura and the Vulcan are being amicable about their break-up, McCoy won’t fuck the nurse he’s into, Chekov refuses to shit talk anyone even when he’s drunk, you’re only sleeping with one person—”

“You.”

You laughed as you spoke, smiling up at Jim as his arms wrapped around your waist, “Yeah, but you could sleep with few more people! Give me something to talk about, something to focus on!”

He pressed his lips to yours for a moment that was much too short. “I’m not looking to sleep with other people.”

“Really? Your fanclub was wrong about you.”

tag list: @outside-the-government @daughterofthebrowncoats @multifandom-slytherin @buckyy3s @cinema212 @caaptain @dani-fae

#jim kirk #jim kirk imagine #kirk imagine #jim kirk x reader #star trek #star trek imagine #cool i'm gonna go wash these tear tracks off my damn face from arguing with my insane mother #deadass i cant wait for grad school #that i may or may not get into smh

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