#let’s not forget my balance issues and fearing falling sometimes too those are big ones | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

poptod · 4 years

Text

Leeway (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Sometimes, you just need to feed the person you accidentally embalmed alive a lot of vodka. A LOT.

Notes: so this is a tad strange and i thought it would be fun to write so hello this exists now and im not apologizing for it this time. i do love how easy it is to tell who learned english in cambridge and who learned english from a crazy american though. fluff and humor, gender neutral, only warning is getting sick from drinking too much Word Count: 2.5k

Despite the popularity of the Egyptian exhibit in the museum, there was really only one hallway and one room for it. A hallway filled with smaller artifacts, and in the center of it all, Ahkmenrah's tomb. What with being the only ancient Egyptian in the whole of the museum, he was rather lonely – that made up one of the reasons for the new exhibit, but the main reason was a money grab.

Now, the new exhibit wasn't nearly as royal as Ahk's room. No massive guards, no rooms catered specifically to it, no hieroglyphs surrounding it. In fact it was the tomb of a servant – that's what historians categorized you as after seeing your wooden sarcophagus and the poor wrappings of your mummification. There was nothing but you in your tomb; no dolls, no artifacts, not even any pottery offerings. Ahkmenrah didn't know any of this, though – no, he was just excited to have someone who came from the same era. His thrill stemmed mainly from his fear of forgetting how to speak Egyptian. With you on your way, he could rid of that fear.

He was told of your exhibit about a day before you arrived, and throughout the whole of the waking night he thought of you. Who could you be? Maybe your times were a thousand years apart; Egypt did have a rather long rule, after all. There was also the chance you were from exactly his time, and part of him hoped that was to be.

The next evening he awoke giddy, a grin on his face from the moment he opened his eyes. A few minutes and Larry came to help him out, stripping off the remaining linen before standing tall, gold falling from his body as silk.

"Is the new exhibit here?" He asked immediately, eager to meet you.

"Yeah, this way," Larry said, guiding Ahk out of his room with a chuckle.

A bundle of nerves began to ache in his chest, begging him to hurry his step. He tried his best to keep calm, soon standing in front of an open archway, leading into a room filled with the broken down, dusty artifacts of his previous daily life. Shabti dolls came to life in glass cages, and beside all the shields and various weapons lay a rotted, wooden coffin. At the sight he frowned – there were no inscriptions on the coffin, not even a hint that they might've once been there. Without those inscriptions it was terribly hard to navigate the afterlife, but that wasn't his main problem at the moment.

The biggest issue was that you were rattling against the wood, moaning weakly from your first wake of the dead. Your coffin sat in a large, glass box, and as both Ahk and Larry realized that, Larry dug into his pocket for keys to open the box.

The moment the glass door opened, Ahk crammed himself inside, careful not to step on the bits of pottery as he knelt at your side. Gently he raised the lid, helping you sit up. Together you worked out of your wrappings, which fell to the bottom of the coffin, before the last of it came off, revealing your face.

"Wait a -"

"You!" You shouted, brows furrowed in a rage both Larry and Ahk rarely saw. Jabbing him in the chest with your finger, you glared him out of the box, following him as you stumbled onto the linoleum floor. "You're the guy who killed me!"

"Wait, what?" Larry said, his tone suddenly serious.

"I did not kill -"

"You fucking buried me alive, you son of a bitch! Do you know how painful it is to have all your organs removed for a damned embalming?!" You yelled as your face grew red, filled with the pressure of your anger.

"Okay, wait, wait –" Larry stood inbetween you two, but your eyes never left Ahk's rather terrified face. "First thing's first. How do you know English?"

"You think you guys get to be the first people insane enough to bring me to life? I lived in a sorcerer's home for ten years and he treated me better than you ever did," you said, aiming your venom at Ahk. Again. "I felt safer with him and he took off my arm and resewed it back on!"

"In my defense, I didn't know you were alive, alright?" Ahk tried defending himself, but you wouldn't hear it.

"You fucked up big time, buddy," you seethed, shoving your face right up against Ahk's. "I wasn't the goddamn murderer. The other one was."

"Oh. Oh, no," he said as the color drained from his face. "Shit, you were innocent?"

"Okay can someone tell me what the hell is going on here?!" Larry finally interjected, gaining both of your attentions.

"There was this, um, incident, while I was a prince," Ahk began, reluctant to tell. "A few murders had happened in the city, so the soldiers tracked down who they believed the murderer to be, but they were fighting with someone. Like, really bad. I was with them and there was quite a lot of blood."

"I would've won, too, if you let me," you grumbled bitterly.

"One of them claimed to be a famous poet, and the other one was unemployed. Obviously the murderer, but we couldn't tell the difference between the two," he continued, ignoring your remark. "There was this whole trial to figure out who was who. What – what was your penname again?"

"Siamun," you said.

"Right. Unfortunately, I guess we got the wrong one," he said rather blankly, regret plain on his face.

"And then he threw a spear at my chest, proclaimed me dead despite the fact that I was still breathing, and then they tore out all my goddamn organs," you finished for him, telling 'Larry' the rest of the story Ahk hesitated to mention.

"It wasn't a spear," Ahk said as though it mattered.

"Knife. Sharp pointy thing. I'm still pissed at you," you said, crossing your arms with great force.

Larry looked between the two of you for a moment before speaking.

"I think I know how to make you feel better," he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and leading you out of the room.

"I highly doubt that," you said quietly, sending one last seething glare over your shoulder at Ahk before you turned the corner, leaving him alone.

He almost cried – he rarely did, but this time was close. All that excitement for nothing. There was no way you'd be able to hold a conversation with him, which was fair, considering he didn't think he could hold a conversation with someone he wronged so deeply. The worst part was that he was quite the fan of your work, and it had been a long, long time since he'd been able to read or hear your words.

About an hour later he dragged himself to his feet with a weary sigh, slowly shuffling into the main room, where he could already hear music and the shouts of dancers and soccer players (for some reason). At the balcony he overlooked the whole of the crowd, eyes scanning over the jumping crowd till he found you sitting with Larry at the center globe. You had a bottle of some sort in hand, and from what he could tell, you were incredibly intoxicated. A new, sick hope sprouted in his head – maybe you'd be able to tolerate him while drunk. Strange thought, certainly, but not entirely improbable.

So, with that in mind, he headed down the steps, his cape floating down with him till he reached the crowd. Worming through the people, he made his way to stand on the other side of the help center desk.

"What did you do?" Ahk asked Larry, gesturing to you sitting on the office chair, spinning as fast as you could.

"I thought they could use some loosening up," Larry answered with a shrug. Ahk frowned.

"That's... what did you give them?"

"Hmm? Oh, just some vodka the previous night guards stored in Rexy's mouth," he said, nodding pleasantly.

"Isn't vodka ten times more powerful than our beer?"

"I hadn't really thought of that," Larry said with his hands on his hips, looking to you for a moment before returning to Ahk.

Once you stopped propelling yourself, your chair stopped spinning, and your smile quickly dissipated into a pale face as sickness overcame you. With lopsided eyes you tried standing, balancing the bulk of your weight on the desk. You gagged on your own tongue.

"That's no good," Ahk muttered under his breath, circling the desk till he stood beside you, wrapping an arm over your shoulder. "I'll take them to the bathroom."

"I think I'm going to throw up," you slurred, leaning into Ahk.

"Thought so. Let's hurry now," he said as he took you through the crowd, feeling thankful that the bathrooms weren't a floor above you. No, they were just to the side, and soon he was holding your hair as you hurled into the porcelain toilet.

You shivered despite the room being warm, and Ahk recognized it as tremors brought about by pain. He winced when you gagged, nothing but acid coming out as you moaned, white knuckles trying to find purchase on the tile floor.

"You.. what's your name?" You asked weakly, your voice rough from acid staining the back of your throat.

"... Naguib," he said after a moment of thought. He wasn't sure if you would remember his name, but he preferred to stay safe, and took his servant's name.

"You're being.. thank you," you mumbled, immediately gagging again afterwards. Nothing came out.

"Of course," he said softly, moving his hands to rub at your tense shoulders. You hummed, unable to move from your spot without feeling intensely sick.

"You're from Egypt, too, aren't you?" You said, tilting your head onto your arm to meet his eye.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Same time period."

"God, I miss it sometimes. Don't you?" You whispered, barely able to find the energy to keep speaking.

"It can get very lonely. That's why I'm glad you're here," he said with a small smile, making you close your eyes and offer your own soft, barely-there smile. "Do you mind speaking Egyptian with me?"

"Sure," you answered in the language he'd been longing to hear from a mouth other than his own.

"So... what was life like for you back then?" He asked despite knowing of most of your exploits (and accidentally being part of the final one. Death.).

"I was a scribe, didn't work for the King though. Didn't really want to. I liked his son, though. Nice guy except for when he stabbed me," you grumbled, your eyes half lidded. He flinched at your last words.

"What did you write of?"

"The world," you said with a weak smirk. "Poetry. Lots of it."

"Really?" He said, keeping his voice soft to soothe you. "Could you share some?"

"Maybe if I remember what I wrote," you replied with a snort. "Been a whole fuckin' while since then."

Wow, you swear a lot, Ahk found himself thinking blankly, watching you tremble and try to keep yourself even.

"What about the prince?" Ahk asked after a long silence, his words barely there.

"Gods.. um... well, very kind. Got a bit of a stick up his ass, but damn, he was handsome. Pretty scary too, but don't tell him. Any of this," you slurred, once more readying yourself to hurl into the bowl. Ahk quickly moved his hands from your back to your hair, keeping it out of your eyes as you gagged, acid and vodka dripping off your tongue.

Even with you having a rather unpleasant time in the bathroom stall, Ahk felt rather good. You liked him – at least you did at one point, and for him, that meant there was a chance you could forgive him. Yes, embalming you alive was probably not the greatest thing he could've done, but you seemed forgiving enough. With anger formidable and forgiveness imminent, he almost smiled. Almost. And then you hurled again.

In the last hours of the night you started to get better. You could stand with help from Ahk (though you much preferred lying down), and your wits were a little more about you, words still slurred but not quite as unhinged. A few hours previously you stopped throwing up, and Ahk moved you from the bathrooms to McPhee's office. He had a nice couch in there, and Ahk doubted he would mind, considering how McPhee practically revered the living exhibits.

"Feeling better?" He asked, knelt beside you on the cushioned velvet couch.

"A little," you hummed, your voice cracking as you looked to him with tired, baggy eyes.

"We'll have to get you back to your coffin soon. I'll have to go to mine too," he said, stroking your hair. You blinked slowly.

"Why?"

"I'll tell you when you're a bit more coherent," he said with a smile. The edges of your lips turned up, but you were far too weak to form a full smile.

A few minutes later Ahk heard a knock on the closed door, and he excused himself from you with a gentle kiss on your forehead. Opening up the door an inch, he slipped through the gap, coming face to face with Larry.

"They doin' okay?" He asked, hands on his hips.

"Will be, eventually. Don't give them vodka. Ever," Ahk said, earning a hurried agreement.

"Yeah, no, definitely. What's up between you guys though?" He asked with vague hand signals gesturing between the two of them. "Like, you friends? Enemies? I can't tell."

"Currently my name is Naguib and I'm a servant."

"Oh, so not good."

"I didn't say that," Ahk said with a frown. "I asked them about 'the prince' and they actually had a pretty high opinion of me, all things considered, so that's good."

"Honestly I find it hard to believe you actually stabbed them. You don't come across as.. murderous," Larry said, a questioning look on his face.

"You've clearly never seen me watch TV," Ahk said flatly. "I'm a Pharaoh. I'm not sure what you were expecting, but my brother tried to kill me five times and I lost my best friend to banishment. I think I'm allowed a little leeway."

"Yeah, I guess so," Larry said with a sigh, forgetting they were genuinely discussing murder. Murder. "Ready to get them back in the coffin?"

"Right."

The two of them helped you back into your casket, a task that was made infinitely easier by the fact that you passed out while they were conversing. Before placing the wooden lid back on, Ahk leaned in, kissing your forehead one more time. Only then did he reluctantly crawl out of the glass cage, watching Larry lock you up.

"Why do you like them so much?"

"Eh," Ahk shrugged, "they're prolific when they aren't drunk."

"Fair enough."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

177 notes · View notes

freckledoriya · 4 years

Text

“h2whoa” (midoriya x reader fic)

PAIRING: izuku midoriya x reader

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol

PROMPT: “I’ve never seen someone as stunning as you.”

WORDS: 2.3k

A/N: here’s my submission for @bnhabookclub’s mermay event! special thanks to @k-atsukidayo for helping with this!

feel free to send me requests HERE

You knew that you shouldn’t have come to this party. It really wasn’t your scene: the music blasting, deep bass shaking the corners of the house, clouds of smoke looming above your head, cheap beer spilling onto the hardwood floors. But it was your high school graduation party, and you felt some kind of cosmic teen obligation to attend the rager. It’s not that you didn’t love your classmates, you absolutely did. And you wished on everything possible that you’ll keep in touch after graduation, especially with your long-time crush, Izuku Midoriya.

Midoriya has been one of those crushes that slowly devours your soul until he’s unintentionally claimed your entire heart. It started your first year when you shyly asked for some tutoring for an upcoming combat exam. You knew his incessant note-taking would prove to be useful. Plus… you really just wanted an excuse to talk to the cute, quiet kid in class. After some blushing and stammering, he agreed to help. You fell headfirst as he hesitantly showed you some of the notes he had already taken on your quirk, a quirk you had always thought was nothing to brag about: a mermaid quirk.

Sure, it sounded wonderful-- a true fantasy come to life. But the reality was that when on land, your quirk was rendered pretty much useless. You did have some water-bending abilities that you could call upon, but the mermaid extension of your power had little potential unless the fight was in the water. And then there was the issue of when your human legs would turn into an iridescent mermaid tail. When your skin comes in contact with enough water, your body automatically transforms, whether or not you want it. You always saw it as a pretty big weakness of yours-- that a villain could pour a bucket of water on you and in ten quick seconds you’d quite literally be a fish out of water. Luckily, your water manipulation proved useful in situations like that, but only if you were able to notice the water about to hit you before it made skin contact.

But all that considered, when Midoriya talked about your quirk, he made it sound like one of the greatest possible quirks someone could have.

“Your body goes through a whole transformation that exponentially increases your speed in water and your water manipulation ability. Almost any villain would be at an automatic disadvantage if they were in the water with you. It’s an incredible quirk!”

You smile at the memory, cherishing those moments where Midoriya could make you feel like the strongest person on Earth while simultaneously making you weak in the knees. You adore his passion for hero work, his constant devotion to bettering himself never fails to inspire you. Plus, you can’t deny that you enjoy watching him fight. The way his messy, green hair tousles as he activates his quirk consistently lights a fire in you that you’ve never been able to extinguish. Sure, he could be a muttering mess of a nerd, but dammit if he didn’t have you completely wrapped around his finger.

Of course, he didn’t know that. You two went through high school together remaining nothing more than close friends. The second something would tease crossing that line, one of you guys would chicken out. And before you knew it, high school flashed by, leaving you with a heap of unconfessed feelings of infatuation.

As you now stare at him from across the room and this graduation party, you can’t help but feel a twinge of regret. What if he has felt the same way about you, and you just wasted four years of your life pining for no reason? Then again, the fear of rejection weighed heavily on your shoulders, never really giving you the chance to break free and shoot your shot.

Your thoughts are cut short by the sensation of cold water being splashed on your back.

“MINETA!” you scream, whipping around to see the Fresh-Picked Hero running around, pouring water on other unsuspecting girls’ shirts.

Your anger gets the best of you as you stand to stomp your way towards him, completely forgetting about the fact that your legs have begun fusing to form a tail. You begin to fall face-first into the floor, but right before you do, you feel a crackle of energy around you, the air fizzing as you feel yourself be caught by, who else, but Izuku Midoriya.

“A-are you okay?” he says, balancing you in his arms.

You try to catch your breath as you blush from all the eyes on you.

“Damn, Midoriya,” Kaminari drunkenly slurs his words. “You ran across the room in less than a second to catch her. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you run that fast in the four years I’ve known you.”

There’s an awkward silence as you look up at your hero, his emerald eyes trying to keep focused on your eyes, blushing as he too notices the room staring at the pair of you.

“Uh, Midoriya,” you say before clearing your throat. “Can you carry me outside? Somewhere where I can wait to dry off?”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah of course.”

You tentatively wrap your arms around his neck as he begins to carry you through the house, trying to keep your heart from beating out your chest. You were so close to him. You attempt to take a few deep breaths to calm down, but every breath is immediately taken away by his presence.

“Thank you for catching me.”

He smiles before setting you down in a reclining patio chair. “No problem. I’m sorry that Mineta did that to you.”

“Not your fault,” you shrug. “I’ve gone through all of high school with that little perv, I should know what to expect now.”

Midoriya lets out a short laugh and takes a seat next to you, causing your heart to flutter. Was he going to sit with you while you waited to dry off and get human legs again? Could he get any more thoughtful and charming?

A few moments of silence pass. You let the gentle buzz of bugs, occasional croaks of frogs, and chlorine smell from the pool next to you fill the air. You look over and catch Midoriya staring, causing both of you to blush and look away. There’s a special kind of tension in the air, one that’s making your stomachs do flips as you ponder it. He could like me. He could like me, and now’s my chance to-

“So how long does it usually take for you to transform back?” he interrupts your thoughts. He must see the disappointment in your eyes because he immediately starts backtracking. “N-not that I’m in any rush! I’m fine sitting here with you! It’s just…”

He sighs and his green eyes stare into yours. “-it’s just that you always look so sad when you’re in this form.”

His observation catches you off guard, but doesn’t surprise you. You’re never thrilled to have this quirk; whenever you transform you see it as a burden rather than some kind of gift.

“I guess I kind of dislike this part of me, that’s all.”

Midoriya looks at you like a kid who was just told that Santa isn’t real: shocked, confused, and hurt. “But! But, it’s such an amazing quirk! The possibilities of all that you can do to save people and fight villains are endless. You must at least know that! And your water manipulation and combat skills mean that you’re just as effective out of water. And then you-”

“I know,” you say, cutting him off. “I know. It makes for a good hero quirk sometimes. But sometimes I just want to enjoy my class’ graduation party without turning into a half-monster with scales.”

“Monster?!” Midoriya practically yells, looking even more shocked and upset than before. “You think that your quirk makes you a monster?”

You gesture down to your tail, half hanging off the patio chair. Its iridescent scales reflect the moonlight, scattering hues of purple and yellow into the pool beside you. “What else would you call this?”

“Beautiful,” he says quickly, before blushing and beginning his usual stammering. “I-I mean beautiful in the way that I’m sure other people see you, not that I don’t think you’re beautiful, I mean, I do, but I just meant that you shouldn’t think that about yourself because I’m sure no one thinks of you other than beautiful, not that you’re not smart either, because you are, I just mean-”

As he mutters, you can’t help but feel a magnetic pull towards him. It’s too strong, too strong for you to try to resist anymore. You’ve fought it for four years. Four years of stealing glances during late-night study sessions. Four years of your hands occasionally “accidentally” touching his, causing electricity to flicker throughout your body. Four years of always hoping and dreaming that one day you’ll get to know the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. You can’t fight the pull anymore, even if you wanted to. So you give in. And you kiss him.

The kiss catches him off guard, effectively stopping his rambling. He tenses and gasps, but once he feels your hand reach up to his cheek, his eyes flutter close and he absolutely melts into your touch. Your lips move gently against his, guiding him at a slow, yet eager, pace. After a few fleeting moments, you’re forced to pull away for air.

You see your long-time crush, Izuku Midoriya, eyes big with adoration, cheeks flushed red, and your lipstick slightly staining his lips. In that moment, you can’t help but wish you had done this sooner.

“I… I really like you, Izuku,” you whisper, unable to break eye contact as he hypnotizes you to move closer to him. “I have for a while.”

He smiles and attempts to blink back the tears in his eyes that threaten to spill over. “I really like you too.”

You don’t know this at the time, but Midoriya’s entire being is overflowing with elation. He has liked you far before you ever said your first words to him, choosing to admire you from afar. He never stopped having the mindset of the awkward, quirkless boy he once was, so he never considered that you could feel the same way. That you could reciprocate the way his heart practically bursted out his chest every time he laid eyes on you. Or the way he often found himself lost in a daydream where he magically had the nerve to go up to you and tell you how he really felt. Tell you that when he’s walking beside you, he can’t help but feel like he should be holding your hand; that when he’s talking to you, all he really should be doing is kissing you.

So having you here beside him, quite literally sparkling under the moonlight and confessing that you like him just after kissing him… it’s almost too much to handle. He feels like his brain is short-circuiting.

“You wanna hop in the pool?” you suggest, effectively snapping him out of his daze.

“The pool?” he replies incredulously.

“Yeah! Why not? It’ll be fun. Plus, now that I know you think I’m beautiful like this, maybe I want to stay like it,” you say with a wink.

Midoriya feels his brain short circuit again. “I-I think you're beautiful without your quirk too!”

You can’t help but giggle at his unwavering concern that he might say the wrong thing. You start to try and shimmy yourself off the patio chair to get to the pool, but Midoriya reacts quickly and leans over to help you lift you up. You admire his upper body strength (your mermaid tail was in no way a lightweight body part) and relish in the feeling of once again having his arms wrapped around you. He slowly lowers you into the pool water, blushing fervently once he notices the way your wet shirt clings to your body.

“Well? Aren’t you coming in too?” you ask, splashing at him.

He chuckles and begins climbing in, not bothering to take off any of his clothes.Right as he enters the water, you take a breath and go underwater, feeling freer than ever before, completely in your element.

“Not fair!” he whines, watching you swim circles around him. “Not all of us have fins, you know.”

You giggle as you come up behind him, using your quirk to cause a small wave to crash over him.

“Did you get me in here just to tease me?” he asks, trying to catch his breath from laughing.

You smile and swim up to him, getting as close as possible. “Maybe, but also to do this.”

Your lips crash into his, this kiss having much more confidence and purpose behind it than the one before. Midoriya lets out a soft moan as he kisses back, running his shaking hands through your wet locks. When you both stop to get air, he stares at you with wonderment.

There’s a special glint in his eyes that you can’t make out. Maybe it’s just the pool lights reflecting in his green irises. Or maybe there’s something else, shining bright within him like the stars above you, burning with passion and brilliance.

“What is it?” you ask, bewildered and hypnotized by his stare.

“It’s just,” he begins and looks up towards the sky, as if searching for the proper words, the ones that would have the right amount of letters, just the right sound to describe his current feelings. “It’s just… I’ve never seen someone as stunning as you. Both inside and out. And.. you absolutely amaze me.”

It’s at that moment that you know with complete certainty-- you will keep in touch with Izuku Midoriya long after graduation.

#midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mermay #bnhabookclub

380 notes · View notes

blog-sliverofjade · 4 years

Text

Hearth Fires 10: The Meaning of Pack

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary: Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.

Word count: 3318

Content warning: Contains racial assault on an interracial (human and changeling) gay couple. Singh doesn't mention homophobia iirc in the series, so I left that possible element out because I felt that I couldn't include both adequately. I wrote Stian as submissive because I'd like to see more of them- and a dominant would've pounded the humans into paste- not because he's gay.

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the transcendent pandabearer

“Lo’el!” A cheerful cry pulled her from daydreams of apples crisp, tart, and bright green baked into galettes and strudels. She turned from the pie display she was re-stocking in time to catch a tiny whirlwind in her arms.

“Hi, Jojo.” The girl’s deep brown skin was flushed with excitement. Her black hair was pulled back on either side of her head, French braids running along the top, and terminated in two high bobbly buns that looked somewhat like ears. Operating on deep-seated instincts, she hitched the girl on her hip. The warm weight of her little body tucked against her own felt right in a way she’d never experienced before and she allowed herself to take comfort in the sensation. “What’re you doing down here?” she asked.

The small downtown park was bustling with shoppers looking for fall produce, pumpkins, or in the case of the highly organized, holiday gifts. It seemed like the whole town came out to enjoy one of the last open-air markets of the season before moving to a smaller indoor version for the winter.

“Pun’kins!” She flung her arms in the air like gourds were the best thing ever and Lorel quickly put a hand on her back to help steady the girl, but she needn’t have worried. Jojo was a cat and had the requisite balance.

“Are you here to get pumpkins or were you hoping I’d giving you something that looks like a pumpkin?” As she talked, she turned to check on her newest employee, Irena, who was already competently handling the steady stream of customers. Her predecessor, a cousin of the blonde Madison, had quit after the Incident, as Lorel was calling it, in solidarity with her relative. Crows weren’t considered birds of prey and therefore exempt from the rules regarding predators sharing territory.

Jojo’s eyes slid to the sugar cookies cut in the distinctive shape and decorated accordingly. Long, angelic lashes batted beatifically up at her and she had to fight a smile even as her heart melted in the face of such cuteness.

“Careful, if you feed them they’ll never go away.” Angel, the unbelievably handsome man from RainFire, strolled up in Jojo’s wake. A boy not much older than Jojo orbited him, looking like a miniature version of the man in matching jeans and a red flannel shirt. He even had tiny coordinating work boots. The combination of gorgeous man and darling munchkin was too much for one poor bystander. Lorel winced in sympathy when the other woman walked into a pole.

Taking the teasing warning as permission, she gave cookies to all three of them, received unprompted thank yous, and she happily participated in the routine exchange, knowing that consistency was important for cubs. It took her a second to correct her mental wording to the more appropriate “kids.” Hanging out with changelings was giving her bad habits.

“No cookie for you?” An adorable frown from Jojo. Lorel’s poor heart couldn’t take it, she cast about for some excuse that wouldn’t plant the seeds of body image issues in a young psyche.

“I don’t want to spoil my lunch.” That appeared to mollify Jojo, finally taking a bite of the treat, and she jumped out of her arms. Lorel’s heart stopped for a moment. The organ stuttered back to life when the girl landed easily and lightly on her trademark purple boots. She and her friend wandered to investigate the blown glass suncatchers at the booth a few feet over; Angel turned to keep them in sight, his stance relaxed, but she had no doubt that he’d turn lethal in an eyeblink at the sign of any danger.

“Did you come down for the market?” asked Lorel when she could properly breathe again.

“The pack has a booth.” Angel nodded his head towards what she assumed was its general location. “Jojo had to come say hi to you, probably because she’s figured she can scam you out of cookies.” He shot her a smile that would have made any other woman swoon, but Lorel liked her men a little rougher, less pretty and more rugged.

“I’ll have to be careful in case she tells all her friends and they decide to gang up on me for the mother lode,” she laughed. The ocelot, which was sedate to the point of laziness for once, laughed at the idea of being swarmed by cubs nearly as big as it was, and they’d probably love it, too. “What do ya’ll sell?”

“Pumpkins, mushrooms, leafy green stuff, things people have made. You focus on local vendors?” She followed his gaze to the sign on the table that proclaimed as much. “If you’re looking for a supplier, we have berries, too: blue, black, elder, currants... I’m sure we could cut you a deal.”

Damn cats were worming their way into her life.

The boy wandered back and tugged on Angel’s pant leg, who crouched to hear what he had to say. A man across the way stared at what must have been an exquisite derriere because he spilled the sample of apple cider he was pouring for a potential customer.

“Can we go play in the water?” The boy twisted his body back and forth the way that kids do when they need to lay the cute on thick to get what they want.

“I suppose it’s the quickest way to clean you cookie monsters up. Or I could just toss you in the river.” Using his thumb, he wiped an orange crumb off the boy’s chin, who giggled at the teasing

“Can Lo’el come, too?” asked Jojo.

“Oh honey, I have to stay here and help Irena,” she began, gesturing at the crow who was refilling a sample plate

Twin pairs of innocent eyes stared up at her in appeal. Seriously, they should be considered deadly weapons and she was looking down a double barrel. Looking to Angel for help did no good, he just tucked his hands under his armpits and shook his head with a grin. It looked like she was on her own.

“And who are these cuties?” Having come over at the sound of her name, Irena eyed the trio of cats, stopping on Angel and then coming back for seconds. Apparently, she preferred her men pretty.

“Irena, meet troublemakers one, two, and three. Known aliases are Jojo, Angel, and peeshwank,” Lorel pointed at each of them in turn. She didn’t know the boy’s name, but she’d overheard Remi call him that the other night. Sometimes having acute hearing was actually useful.

“I’m Darin! Only Remi calls me peeshwank,” he giggled and revealed a missing front tooth.

“They’re trying to get me to play hooky.” Hands on her hips, she mock scowled. None of them appeared the least bit fazed. If anything, the kids turned the charm factor up a notch, something she wouldn’t have thought possible.

“Go play with the cublets, I’ll be fine here. Like you said, the breakfast crowd’s already come through so I won’t have to beat off the ravening hordes,” the traitor smiled reassuringly and made shooing motions with both hands, then leaned in close to whisper, “As long as you get me his phone number.” The slender brunette pulled away with a wink.

Lorel sighed in feigned resignation and held out her hands like she was about to be handcuffed. Two soft, little hands took each of hers and dragged her into the throng of shoppers, Angel close on her heels.

“Don’t worry, I won’t give her anything without your say so,” she said to him over her shoulder. Bumping into someone, she had to return her attention to where she was going.

“Thank you,” came the quiet response.

Where the kids’ smaller size allowed them to dodge easily, she was pulled into obstacles, but she didn’t let go for fear of losing them. The thought that they might get lost or hurt had her tightening her grip and bracing herself against the jostling.

While she was just over five feet tall, she was far from slender and never would be, to her grandmother’s chagrin. She was acutely conscious of her ample hips knocking into people and she did her best to make herself as small as possible. Each bump, no matter how brief, had her ocelot snarling in irritation and it took all of her concentration to remain in control. The crowd pressed in around her until all she could see was Darin and Jojo in front of her. Her palms grew clammy, but the kids didn’t seem to mind. A dull roar filled her ears, allowing only the loudest sounds through, and those were sharp and intense. Throat tightening, she fought for each breath.

The ocelot pressed hard against its cage, sandwiching her between it and the pressure of the crowd. How she managed to arrive at the splash pad, even though it was only fifty meters away, without going clawed, she had no idea. More than anything, she was glad that her tiny guides didn’t have so much as a scratch on them. Angel probably would have torn her to pieces for harming them. And she’d let him.

The kids stripped down to swimsuits underneath their clothing. Darin was so eager he forgot to unbutton his flannel shirt and ended up stuck with it around his nose.

“Help!” he pleaded, turning to Lorel, his arms above his head and his face obscured by red-plaid.

Moving automatically despite the strange sensation of not feeling fully present in her body, she crouched and carefully helped free the boy. Once released, he beamed and wrapped his soft arms around her neck. She froze with one hand tentatively curving around his back. A wet kiss against her cheek and he was off to run through the water spraying from colourful flowers sculpted from metal. Some of his packmates were already there and greeted him with shrieks of welcome, their happiness no longer piercing to her senses.

A large, warm hand settled on her shoulder. It felt strange and soothing all at once and she couldn’t bring herself to shrug it off. Angel helped her to her feet and opened his arms wide in an offer of a hug.

The leopards were so relaxed and comfortable with one another, sharing platonic hugs and kisses, casually holding hands. It hurt to look at them like they were a blazing fire and she was stuck out in the cold darkness, looking in. And now one was extending that comfort to her.

Although she wasn’t raised to accept casual physical contact, even platonically, from men, she stepped into his arms. It was like a long, cool drink of water after working for hours in the hot sun without a break. The sudden absence of a deep-seated pain she’d learned to deal with long ago made her nearly sag in relief.

This had nothing to do sex. She didn’t feel any attraction either to or from him, yet she needed the chaste affection and she soaked it up as long as he would allow her.

“We aren’t meant to be alone. Sure, some of us are more solitary than others, but we’re not meant to be cut off from our kind entirely. I can’t think of a worse life for a changeling.” He rubbed large circles on her back and she fought back a purr.

“Maybe it’s a nature vs. nurture thing. If you’re raised in a pack, of course you wouldn’t do well on your own.” Even she didn’t believe her own words.

“And how do you know you won’t be better off in a pack?”

A knot of packmates moved out of Remi’s way as he burst into the emergency room. The triage nurse took one look, recognized him, and hit the button that unlocked the security door that led into the depths of the department. The door shut behind him with a metallic click as he strode down the sterile, off-white hallway to where Theo stood guard outside of a cubicle.

A lean blonde man lay on a narrow bed, his normally bronzed skin was ashen and spattered with carmine. Catching sight of Remi in the doorway, he gave a crooked smile around a split in his lip and raised his hand in greeting.

“What the fuck happened?” Remi growled at the sentinel. The bad-tempered demand earned him a sharp look of reproach from Finn as he worked on the injured male in the treatment room; the wounded non-dominant didn’t need any more stress, least of all from his fucking alpha.

It seemed like his vocal chords were stuck in a semi-shift for the past two weeks and everything came out a snarl. That was part of the reason why he’d been running along the eastern border, channelling excess energy and inspecting the new security precautions, instead of sleeping.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he forced his voice into a more normal register. “What happened?” There, that sounded a little less like he was about to go on a murderous rampage.

“Stian and Leandro were leaving Acapella when they got jumped.” The lounge was popular with most segments of the population, even the psy who were exploring life outside of the emotionless discipline of Silence. While the telepathic race couldn’t drink since alcohol wreaked havoc on their abilities, Acapella was known for their extensive mocktail menu. The trendy venue was hardly known for drunken brawls. As far as Remi knew, the most violent incident that had occurred there was a spat two years before between a couple of drag queens over stealing someone’s routine.

“There were four or five human guys.” All RainFire members were trained in at least basic hand-to-hand combat. Five human men shouldn’t have been able to take a leopard, even a non-dominant. And Leandro, while human and untrained, was bigger than Stian.

“First one jumped out of the alley and hit him in the face with a baseball bat, breaking his nose. The wind was blowing the wrong way for him to catch a scent.” Claws pricked at Remi’s fingertips, the urge to hunt boiling to the surface.

“This was planned.” That time he didn’t bother to keep the cat out of his voice. “A group of drunks looking for a fight don’t use tactics designed to circumvent our sense of smell.”

“And they weren’t playing baseball at one in the morning, either,” agreed Theo. The man who was gentle with their most vulnerable and loved to play with the cubs was gone; only the lethal predator remained. A passing nurse started to admire him until they caught the dangerous aura he emanated, then quickly scuttled past even though his eyes hadn’t even flashed cat. The hindbrain of every creature knew how to recognize a predator no matter what skin they wore. “They took him down while he was stunned. One kicked him, possibly with steel-toes, while the other used the bat, and the rest went after Leandro.”

“Leandro, he ok?” The human male wasn’t one of his, but he was important to Stian. Finn did something that eased the grimace on Stian’s wan face and Remi’s urge to kill something eased down a tick.

“A little beat up, but he’s ok.” Theo blew out a breath and scrubbed an eyebrow with a thumbnail, then his quiet bass dropped to barely a whisper too quiet for Stian to hear. “You know his family wasn’t thrilled he was dating a changeling? This was too much on top of that, apparently.”

Remi turned the air blue. “Any witnesses?”

“No descriptions, either,” Theo shook his head. “Dark, non-descriptive clothing and hoodies obscured their faces on CCTV footage.”

More cursing.

“Thanks.” He clapped the sentinel on the shoulder. “We’ll talk later, this shit ain’t your fault. Go, be with the others before they storm the place for an update.”

“It’s not your fault either.” He fixed Remi with a firm look and then strode down the hallway, pressed the button that released the door for those exiting, and went to give an update to the waiting packmates.

Maybe not, but he could’ve at least fucking been there when Enforcement was getting his statement instead of brooding in the woods in the middle of the night like a fucking wolf. Next thing he knew, he’d be howling at the goddamn moon.

Cell reception could be spotty in the mountains, texts were the best method of communication once he was within range. Theo’s message had come in when he was on his way back, which meant Remi made it to the hospital soon after Stian’s statement had been taken. The distance, the adrenaline, and the fact that there wasn’t a bloodbond between the two of them combined meant Remi hadn’t felt the assault. Although he definitely felt it when Finn pulled energy from him to heal the worst of Stian’s wounds.

An alpha was supposed to be there for everyone in his pack.

Comforting others didn’t come easily to him; it was difficult to give something he didn’t have much experience receiving. With the cubs it was easy since they were easy to love and care for, the same way he’d been loved and petted when his mother was still alive. Steeling himself, Remi rapped on the door frame of the cubicle as he entered.

“How ya feeling?” he placed a hand on Stian’s shoulder, grounding him with the touch of pack, of his alpha, while Finn continued stitching up a cut on the other man’s side.

“Like hell.” A faint smile that didn’t disturb the deep purpling bruises that mottled his face.

“You look like it.” Yeah, it was definite: when it came to compassion, he definitely was the worst. “But you’ll be back to your pretty surfer boy looks in no time.”

Snorting, Stian scratched at his close-trimmed beard where a patch of dried blood stained the blonde hair rust red. Pale, almost colourless, eyes dropped to the blanket tucked around him.

“I’m sorry about Leandro.”

“Yeah, well, other fish in the sea,” he shrugged, then winced when his body protested the movement. “I can’t really blame him, the garbage they were spewing…” He shook his head. “Those assholes called him an ‘animal fucker’ and ‘race traitor’ like it’s 1982 and not 2082! But I can blame him for breaking up with me in a text message.”

Remi placed his other hand over the male’s, which was fisted in the blanket; small nicks, scrapes, and more bruises from defending himself marked his lightly tanned skin.

“I can’t even tell you what they looked or smelled like. I’m s-sorry.” Big fat tears that he’d been holding back spilled over to roll down his face and soak into his beard. The salt in his split lip had to hurt like a sonuvabitch, yet he didn’t wince. “T-they were wearing d-dark hoodies.”

“Hey, look at me.” Keeping his tone gentle, Remi moved his hand from Stian’s shoulder to the side of his neck. Those icy blue eyes filled with anguish turned to him. “They used tactics to avoid identification, they were prepared. You survived, that’s all you had to do.”

“I c-couldn’t protect him.”

“That bastard didn’t deserve it anyway.” A laugh that was part sob. “At least, tell me they messed up his face, too. Lark’s coming to keep you company. I told Angel to stay home, having him around right now would be adding insult to injury.” More shaky laughter in nervous relief.

“Whatever you need, you ask for it, ya hear me?” Remi clasped Stian in a careful hug and wondered how he was going to hunt down the fuckers who’d done this. He fucking hated feeling helpless, especially when one of his people were hurt, but he could do nothing less because otherwise that meant he couldn’t protect his own.

And an alpha who couldn’t protect was no alpha at all.

4 notes · View notes

jbbuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

Zerfall - 14/14

Pairing: Bucky x named!Reader (Agent Andromeda) Summary: After Hydra drops virus bombs in 7 major American cities in the height of summer, the team is locked in their emergency bunker for weeks. The virus commonly called the Summer Poison successfully brought the infrastructure to a halt in all big cities. When the virus slowly starts burning itself out SHIELD Agents and Avengers are sent out to bring back order into the cities and the international relationships. Not without hurdles. Warnings for this chapter: 18+, smut, oral female receiving, plain old missionary, flirting, fluff. A/N: Not proofread. Don’t forget that there is still a little Epilogue coming!

Zerfall Masterlist || M a s t e r l i s t

“While you were busy saving the big cities we finally finished the cure. The vaccine is ready but still needs to go through a test phase.” Bruce smiled proudly and Helen clapped her hands in excitement. “I’m doing better. Still need a couple of days but Wanda has been working so great that we have 75% of Queens occupied again.” Magnolia grinned sleepily. “New York is on a good way up but DTF is a big threat in the distance that will need more work as soon as the other cities are more secure.” You looked at all the people in the call. “Atlanta is almost done. Will probably be back in a week to bring them some stuff from New York.” Tony answered immediately. “We are mostly done but have the whole government situation, so this will take a while.” Nat said sitting at the desk in the oval office. Honestly a sight you could get used to. “LA is done too, thanks to the other agents here. Gonna help out until you come and get me.” Sam grinned his usual grin. “Chicago will be a little more work.” Clint answered a bit stressed out. “Well, at least Pepper was able to get back some balance with Germany, China and Canada. That’ll make it a little easier in the coming months.” You smiled at Mrs. Potts hologram. “Let’s get the electricity back up and a few of Tony’s nice inventions and get the streets of New York clear again and have this state function again.” You clapped before saying your goodbyes. “Victory pizza?” Bucky asked and you nodded exhausted. “I’ll make it, go shower. You look awful.” He grinned at you. “Thank you, you look absolutely horrible too, asshole.” You rolled your eyes and got a chuckled back. The second you came back into the kitchen you attacked him with a washcloth. “Meda!” He yelled out and tried to get you to stop. “James Barnes, you’re dirty and I don’t want that in my food.” You laughed. “I’m dirty?” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Shut up and go shower while I make the rest of the pizza, Buckaroo.” You giggled and shushed him away.

“You know...I really appreciate how protective you are with me,” you mumbled between two bites of the pizza. “Really? I just kinda...do it.” He shrugged with a shy smirk. “It’s very sweet, even though you concern me sometimes with how intense you get.” You giggled. “Everything or nothing!” He said pinching your waist. “Alright. Alright! Stop!” You giggled with warm fingers pinching you over and over. “You know, I’ve never protected someone like this. I let Steve run into shit and feel the consequences, hell, I still do that today.” He grinned. “And what does that tell you?” You said scooting closer to his side. “Well, uuh, um.” He scratched his head, figuring out how to form sentences again. “I didn’t make you this nervous when we danced earlier.” You chuckled and put your legs over his lap. “Um, I guess, you’re...wait, no, let me say this the right way.” He went silent for a moment. “You’re the most talented, sassy and beautiful person I know...and I guess I kinda have a tiny crush on you, maybe.” He was fully blushing by now and god was it adorable. “You sure? I always think I’d be a bad person to date.” You looked down. “Don’t know who made you feel that way but I sure as hell love to be around you,” he said crystal clear and pulled you a little closer. “Really?” You looked up into loving, calming eyes. “Really.” His cold fingers were running over your hair. “I’d love to at least give it a try, James.” The corners of your mouth were not sure where to go. “Can I?” He asked caressing your face with one brow up and your mouth finally formed a smile. Warm lips captured yours and a cozy feeling started to surround you together with the security of his arms around you. You climbed fully onto his lap, not interrupting what you were doing one second and deepened the kiss, getting a low groan back. Tongues started to dance with one another while hands grabbed into hair. Not that you didn’t feel his safety before but now you were bathing in it. When there finally was a moment you needed air the two of you went apart with shy smiles. “I guess I should finally tell you this. My real name is…” you got closer to his ear telling him your secret, making him blush and smirk simultaneously. “Fuck, I’m suddenly unable to keep my hands off you.” He winked with a dorky smile shortly after. “I suddenly don’t mind you touching me.” You winked back, a little more serious than him and got blushed cheeks back. “You know exactly what you’re doing.” He whispered in awe but also starting to squint. “And you can’t say that you hate it.” You grinned while drawing circles on his neck. “No, I love it.” He closed his eyes leaning into the touch. “I think we both need a little relaxation after all of this bullshit,” you whispered, now with your lips right by his ear. A grumble was not a clear answer but a good enough one for you to continue. Your lips landed on the opposite side of where you were drawing circles. You didn’t think he’d reveal his weak points that easily, but you guessed it was the female charm. He grabbed into your hips with a, “I think I died back there and went to heaven.” “Glad you can finally admit that it’s where you’d go.” You chuckled before planting another kiss. “You make me forget,” he whispered barely audible before pulling you against himself abruptly. Your lips kissed a soft line up to his ear, “Then make me forget the shit that happened today.” He pushed your head to be able to look you into the eyes with slight concern. “I promised to protect you, would’ve killed them myself if Wanda wouldn’t have been there. Nobody hurts my badass nerd.” He caressed your face. “I know, but I need my mind off those things, so please…” You said almost whiny before rolling your hips against his. A sharp inhale and a groan where audible followed by hot lips landing on yours again, tongues exploring further. With another roll of your hips and another, even deeper growl, a cold hand wandered under the soft fabric of your jumper. A gasp of pleasure made him pause for a second, probably in fear of hurting you, you knew his quirks by now. The jumper was taken off painfully slow before his head dove down to your throat. “Such a beautiful sight,” he whispered against you, hot breath hitting your skin. Your hands went from his neck to grabbing into his damp hair and ended up fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt. “James, please,” you whined out and got a grumble back before he took it off with your eyes on him. An unsure smile was directed at you and your fingers went over his scars, “You’re the strongest person I know.” “Then you haven’t met yourself.” He grinned and grabbed your thighs to pick you up and make the two of you comfortable on the couch behind you. Having him towering over you wasn’t an entirely new experience thanks to the accident injuring Magnolia but with the uniform removed...you were biting your lip while your fingers wandered over his chest towards his sweatpants. You looked back up to his face, seeing a weird mix of awe and lust reflecting back. “Sorry, I just...that bra is…” He tried but his pupils widened and he attacked you with another passionate kiss. “It’s just a normal black bra.” You chuckled panting. “Babe, I’m like 100 years old. I’m not used to...well, I guess a little, but not on you.” He grinned. You rolled your eyes, “Casanova.” “Hell no,” he laughed, “you’re my third. First that I can actually say I’m absolutely crazy for.” “I know, we want to...but tell me more.” you eyed him and then stared back at him. “Well, first was in the war. Didn’t wanna die without knowing what it’s like and the nurse at our camp was rather, uh, you know…” “Attractive.” You grinned up at him and he nodded, “And the second?” “That’s...after I was in Wakanda I learned the new standards are way more relaxed and...well, I wanted to be prepared in case I fall in love with someone, so Sam kinda made it his mission to-” “Sam made it his mission to get you laid!? That’s a true friend.” You laughed. “You?” He smiled down at you. “Manipulative dude in high school that I had my first time with, then a long relationship with another agent who turned out to be Hydra, that’s it. You can probably tell where my trust issues come from.” You huff. “Want me to make you forget that too?” He raised an eyebrow and you bit your lip as an answer. “You could make me forget my own name,” you whispered and triggered a series of fumbling with each others clothes. He was taking his sweet time to explore every inch of you with his hands and lips. “James.” You groaned. “Yeah, darlin’?” He smirked up at you from your belly. “Please.” You whined. “I need more context, babe.” He grinned. “I don’t care what you do, just do it.” Your body was on fire, you needed him. “Of course, don’t wanna make you frustrated.” He chuckled, thinking about his own frustration throughout this entire mission. Cold fingers touched you softly with a deep hum, “Tell me if you don’t li-” “James, I know, please, just…” You whimpered and got a hectic nod back. His head dove down to your sweet spot, inspecting every inch of you there, before feeling you out for your weakest spot. Your hand landed in his hair and guided him, a loud moan signaling him he was in the right place. “Fuck, right there.” You arched your back and he felt you getting more aroused. You tucked on his hair, making him look up, “I know you’re dying.” Now that you said it he felt himself throbbing and let you guide him with your hand in his hair. “Don’t give me that questioning look, you know the answer.” You chuckled while panting heavily. With closed eyes and while biting your lips you felt him enter you and moaned out. The moment you were completely one you opened your eyes again, seeing almost black eyes and primal instincts kicking in completely. “Mine.” He growled possessively and started moving, making you groan. Fingers were intertwined and hips jerking against each other. “Don’t stop!” You called out after a while of sweet rhythms and heard him moan back. “C’mon, darling!” He said grunting, getting faster, feeling you closer. “Make a mess for me, darling.” He panted before getting sloppier, groaning out and feeling you squeeze around him in bliss. “That was amazing.” You panted and got a smile back. “Could do that to you all day,” he mumbled against your lips before capturing them again. “With that foreplay? Anytime.” You grinned before parting ways. “New York is back on track. I have a badass agent as my girlfriend now. Life’s pretty good.” Bucky mumbled on the deck that night, stargazing with you. “Yeah, life’s pretty amazing right now,” you said grabbing his hand. There were only up’s from here.

13 notes · View notes

blacksunscorpio · 4 years

Text

How to Survive Mercury Retrograde in Pisces

Welcome to retrograde season, team. in 2 days, Mercury goes retrograde at 12°53' in Pisces to be exact. Now, retrogrades usually breed a certain amount of panic and understandably so., but this retrograde falls into the sentimental and some could even argue the overly sentimental sign of Pisces.

So let's break this down, shall we?

Pisces, the fishes (Think Tui and La from Avatar) are ruled by Neptune, the Latin name for Poseidon, god of the sea, dreams, illusions, etc. Mercury rules Virgo and Gemini, hence Mercury does not feel at home in such an emotional and watery sign. Mercury is in its fall. It prefers the critical and airy signs that it’s used to and at 29 degrees (the last decan of the constellation before it moves on to the next) it’s in a hurry to finish things up. In layman’s terms? There’ll be a sense of intense urgency for the next two weeks.

So what else can we expect during this celestial backspin?

Welp, with Mercury Retrograde in Pisces, this creates mental and emotional confusion, with strange erratic dreams and maybe even some psychic experiences. Mercury rules the [rational] mind and thoughts while Neptune ruler of Pisces lords over the unconscious. The subconscious. Addled states of being (so careful with your alcohol intake around this time or overindulging with drugs in general.)

Your mental processes will have a tendency to become merged with emotions and you might find it hard to separate ideas and opinions from your idealism. You feel as if things are unfolding behind-the-scenes but are not yet clear what they are.

So here’s what to look out for in general:

Sleeping patterns (as we mentioned), communication, and travel plans may be thrown off during this time.

People from the past may be reappearing sooner than expected and bringing with them Emmy winning displays of emotion and drama thanks to the Piscean influence. Don’t trip off this one too much, sometimes this means you could receive that ever-elusive closure you never got.

With upcoming Mercury retrograding in Aries (ruled by Mars, god of war), periods of combative attitudes are heightened as well as impulsive decision-making.

I cannot stress this enough: THINK before you speak.

Deceptive people will swarm like roaches ESPECIALLY with Neptune in Pisces. People show you their true colors so you know who needs to be removed from your life.

Arguments are more prone at this time..

Pretty cut and dry, right? If not, here’s what each of the signs should be aware of specifically during this watery transit.

Aries – Hello my fiery brothers and sisters. Take this time to relax, think things through and watch your tongue. I know it’s hard with our ruling planet being Mars and all but you would not want anything you say now to follow you through the remainder of your birthday season. Mercury retrograde is aiding you in redefining your emotional boundaries and making concise decisions on what to take into the next year of your life—just in time, too, because Aries SZN starts on the 20th, just a week before the retrograde ends. But do take a break from people who have been exhausting you, you don’t have to apologize for taking care of you. Chill.

Taurus – You might suffer from miscommunicating with friends and family members or just everyone in your radius. Or maybe it's just that no one gets how awesome your thoughts are. Either way, be as clear as possible with those around you so that you don’t get annoyed with the world. Mercury retrograde is testing your emotional capacity to open up. Testing your ability to refrain from being judgmental. Try being a little more accepting.

Gemini – You might be frustrated since no one seems to get your ideas but this will prove to be a fruitful period of time for you. Mercury in daydreamy Pisces fills your head with ideas of what could be and where you want to go in life, but you struggle to fit these dreams into reality. The good thing is, you’re trying. And A-for-effort, you little genius. Accept your status as the wise one amongst friends, school or even work. Mercury gives you some much-needed insight while everyone seems to be out-of-whack.

Cancer – Yeah, this bad boy’s gonna hit you guys pretty hard. There’s no sense in cloaking it. You, my clawed cousins, are probably the most emotional sign so not only are your feelings heightened, you may feel like you just want to get away from it all. Considering taking a nice trip? Stahp. Plan it now and go for it in the next few months. While Mercury is in Retrograde, you definitely do not want to take some crazy excursions. If you need to take a break, visit a museum, take up some yoga or work on that project you gave up on a while ago. These alternatives will help you cope in a healthy way instead of running from what you don’t want to face.

Leo – Tax season is coming up, so contemplate how you want those funds allocated. Yes, my preening feline. With Chiron (planet of wounds and healing) and Mercury in such close proximity, you might feel a bit wounded this time around. Self-help books could become useful this time as you try to decipher dreams or just memories from the past. Pay attention to things you normally wouldn’t. That includes friends and family you’ve been neglecting. This Piscean influence is sending you signals and forcing you to readjust the way you exchange emotional resources as well as your financial ones. The devil’s in them details.

Virgo – Oh Virgo’s my OCD loves: Try to loosen up this month. Not everything has to be perfect and you don’t need to go ghost in order to obtain it. With this Piscean influence affecting your relationships, people might be put off by your disappearing act and might consider whether you value their friendships. Reach out, be that person that randomly appears during retrograde. Heal those old wounds and reassure the ones you love with your presence. Chances are if someone’s crossing your mind it’s because you’re on theirs as well.

Libra – Mercury will add some irritation to your routines but you’re good at this, so it will not be such a big deal. Here you learn how to perfect things and redo them so that you will get the value months from now. You’ll do things you’ll thank yourself for later. Work hard even if you don’t feel motivated that way you can play hard later.

Scorpio – Good news arachnid fam, this is the time to relax and break free. I don’t think any of us can forget (or forgive) the things that happened during the last Retrograde. But now that we’ve healed, expect a lot of muses to inspire you. Your artistry is alive. Your creative juices are flowing and people flock to you this March. Social connections are highly likely as you make time to reconnect and steal the spotlight. Yes you’ll be affected by the watery influence but you’re ruled by water too so it’s nothing you can’t flex on.

Sagittarius – Miscommunications at home (which might be part of this issue since you guys are a ruled by the planet of expansion) can prove frustrating but no worries! This is temporary. This will help clear out the air and it will allow you to work on any family drama you have been ignoring. Relax, take notes. You guys are a sign that’s notorious for your blatant and cavalier honesty. Some appreciate it. Some just think you’re harsh. Listen to others and take a page from Libra’s book on this and practice being more diplomatic in your approach.

Capricorn – It’s highly unlikely that you will be on time for anything this month which is highly unlike you since you guys are ruled by Saturn, father of time. Sorry fam, the world seems to be against you, or maybe it’s just time being complicated. You as an earth sign just don’t rock with this watery retrograde. It may seem hard but attempt to go with the flow, don’t lose your cool. Mercury here will teach you some much-needed patience. Be clear, be concise and be patient.

Aquarius –Shmonnaayyyyy! Listen, this could prove to be a beneficial time for you as you see a surge of income from unexpected forces. Has your right had been itching? While others might be losing their mind, you might actually benefit from this period since mercury is making you remove the emotional baggage and clutter as you get your finances in order and learn from previous spending habits and mistakes.

Pisces – It’s about you, baby. Happy birthday. You are on Cloud 9. Yes, this year may have started with upsets and disappointments, but you’ve noticed that things have stabilized and you feel extra Zen with the universe. Mercury’s taught you acceptance, self-care and most importantly self-love (who couldn’t use more of that?) This unconditional joy you may experience throughout the month will allow you to bloom and heal for Aries Season.

So what have we learned today?

Number one: don’t resort to excesses but remain balanced and focused on building the right sort of relationships. Be it work relationships, old ties we thought were forgotten or family binds that will never break. Yes yes, nervousness and stress, fears paranoia may be stimulated, especially if you’ve been working or living in an environment hostile to your deeper needs. But let's all remember to keep our dignity and wits about us. Especially with such a murky and hazy fog that Neptune always blesses us with (note sarcasm) around this time.

Now, will second-guessing and trying to read between every line be hard to avoid? Absolutely. However, the best course of action around this time is to make as few assumptions as possible. Be open to your own intuitive hunches and be ready to take a new direction when it suddenly materializes. It may be closer than you think. And when the mist clears, you’ll have the opportunity to really make yourself seen and heard. Until then, I’ll be here to keep you updated on the latest celestial happenings. Good luck.

#Mercury retrograde #my writing #pisces season #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #Sagittarius #Capricorn #pisces #Aquarius #horoscopes #blvquesunscorpio

25 notes · View notes

nitr0glycer1ne · 4 years

Text

Ducktober/Duckvember Day 13 - Duckswap (Age Swap AU)

Hi! Ok so I have no idea what Duckswap is, so I went with the idea that it's an AU where the characters' ages are swapped? So here's my take on that, with more details:

- The triplets are around thirty. Huey is a marine biologist and also a Junior Woodchuck troop leader, Dewey is a stunt actor and hosts a weekly show on a local radio station, Louie works in marketing. They live together and they’re raising their nephew and niece, Donald and Della, who are eleven, as well as another nephew of theirs, Scrooge, who’s only two. - The three of them also take turns being Gizmoduck, Duckburg’s protector; nobody except for Webby knows of their secret. On top of that, everyone else thinks there’s only one Gizmoduck. - Webby is the triplets’ adopted sister; she’s a year older, and she’s an archaeologist as well as a novelist. - Launchpad is eight, he’s a big fan of Dewey and lives in the triplets’ neighbourhood. Dewey often babysits him and LP considers him his best friend. - Fenton is seven, and he’s in Huey’s JW troop. He has a huge imagination and wants to become a scientist AND a superhero. He’s also convinced Gyro’s his best friend. - Gyro is nine, he’s in Huey’s troop as well. He doesn’t get along well with his family or his peers, and prefers to read on his own or work on his many, many inventions. - This is the basis for this oneshort; if I do write more about it, more characters will be included, such as Lena, Drake, Violet, Mrs Beakley...

Enjoy!

“Do I really need to wear those?”

Dewey lifted his eyes from his current task, which consisted of tying the laces of Launchpad’s roller skates, to see his best friend’s face. The duckling looked unsure, holding the kneepads in front of him.

“I’m afraid so, buddy.” Dewey answered as he finished the tight knot on one of the laces. “Just in case of another crash.” “But you’re not wearing any protection!” Launchpad countered, his bright eyes looking right into Dewey’s. “True, but I’ve been doing that for like, forever.” the older duck grinned, ruffling the ginger strands coming from under Launchpad’s helmet. “It’s your first time, though.” “Okay, that makes sense!” the duckling finally gave in, carefully putting the pads on.

Launchpad wasn’t really rebellious; he just liked to ask a lot of questions, and to get to the bottom of things. If he was satisfied with the answers Dewey or other adults gave in, he had no issue doing what he was told.

“Are you ready?” Dewey asked, getting up after checking one last time that his best friend’s roller skates were securely fastened to his palms. “Yeah!” the boy roared, punching the duck’s fist and making an explosion noise afterwards. “Ooookay, let’s dew-it then!”

Dewey took Launchpad’s hands in his, facing the duckling. Launchpad struggled a bit to get up, and it took him a few moments to regain his balance after standing up, but he did a good job at keeping his balance when Dewey started slowly skating backwards, Launchpad following eagerly.

“You’re doing great!” Dewey beamed, proud of his disciple. “Think you can handle a little more speed, LP?” “Sure can!” Launchpad shouted, starting to mimic his friend’s movements instead of letting himself be dragged. “Okay!”

Dewey carefully let go one of Launchpad’s hands, moving elegantly so the two were skating side by side. Launchpad did have some trouble keeping his balance, and he was grateful Dewey was still holding his left hand, but he quickly understood how to move his legs and how to keep his equilibrium. Dewey was proud of his student; it seemed like Launchpad had a gift when it came to learning various skills that involved moving objects, like biking, skiing or even surfing. Sure, the duckling had a tendency to fall or crash into walls or people after going too fast and losing control, but he never got seriously injured and it never discouraged him from learning new skills.

Dewey feared the day when Launchpad would get interested in learning how to drive bigger things, like motorcycles or cars, but for now he couldn’t be a prouder teacher.

“Dewey!” Launchpad exclaimed, giddy. “I-I think I’ve got it!” “Awesome! Want me to let go?” “Yeah, I’m ready!” “Okay, LP! Three, two, one, go!!”

The older duck was true to his word, and Launchpad found himself skating on his own, his legs pushing on his roller skates and making him go faster. The duckling couldn’t help but laugh; he liked it even more than skateboarding, adjusting the pressure on his knees and on his ankles to put the small wheels in motion, going faster and faster, dodging irregularities on the road, avoiding the people crossing the street, laughing all the while.

“That’s it, LP, you’re doing amazing!” Dewey shouted, still skating, staying a bit behind LP to keep an eye on him. “THIS IS SO COOL!!” Launchpad yelled, going even faster, his gestures precise and sharp.

Dewey fondly watched his best friend speed down the road, but started to find that Launchpad was perhaps going a little too fast.

“LP, slow down!” he screamed, hoping the duckling would, for once, listen to him. “GO FASTER? OKAY!” “NO, SLOWER!”

Dewey started skating faster, trying to catch up with his disciple. He knew what happened when Launchpad was enjoying himself too much, especially when it involved going very fast down a very steep road. He only hoped that Launchpad would, for once, be aware of his own limits, or that in the worst case scenario, he would reach LP before the kid could wreak havoc.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!”

Well, so much for those plans.

-----

“Come on, please!” “I said no.”

Fenton pouted. He had been trying to convince Gyro to play with him for the last ten minutes - but the chicken hadn’t given in, staying on his favourite bench, underneath a tree. Gyro was reading a heavy tome Fenton had already seen him with, something about quantum physics. It was one of Gyro’s favourite subjects - Fenton preferred chemistry.

“Please, Gyro! And after, we can do whatever you want!” “Once again, no.” “But please! I can’t play Gizmoduck if there’s no villain to stop!” “Then I’ll be your villain, if you want!”

Fenton happily spun towards the duck who had just spoken - his favourite adult and the leader of his Junior Woodchuck group, Huey Duck. The marine biologist was smiling brightly at him, and the duckling threw himself around his waist.

“Hi Mr Huey!”

Fenton was one of the most polite children Huey had ever met. Even after being given the permission to call him by his first name, the duckling still had trouble letting go of the “Mr” in front of Huey’s name. “Hey, Fenton.” Huey ruffled the feathers on top of the small duck’s head, before looking at the other kid. “Hey, Gyro.” “Huey.” the chicken nodded, readjusting his glasses before returning to his book. “Mr Huey, look, look! I’ve made some adjustments to my suit!”

Fenton stepped away from the scientist, proudly showing his homemade armour to the duck. It was crafted out of cardboard, paint and markers, but the duckling had managed to make it look pretty amazing. Just like Gyro, Fenton was a perfectionist and had a gift to make remarkable creations out of mundane materials – the only difference being that Fenton’s inventions were mostly play-pretend, and Gyro’s were actual attempts at creating fully functional machines and gizmos.

“Let me see that.” Huey asked, kneeling down to the excited boy’s level. Huey took the time to admire every modification Fenton had made since the last time, which mainly laid in the freshly painted lines on the back, and in the small LEDs embedded in one of the arms’ control panel. “Great work, as always.” The scientist finally concluded, getting up and chuckling at the look of absolute joy on Fenton’s face. “No doubt you’ll scare the villains away before they even attack you!”

Despite having pretended he couldn’t care less about the younger boy’s latest improvements on a bunch of cardboard, Gyro was watching the two ducks interact from behind his book. He couldn’t help but feel like joining them; he loved tinkering with his own creations, and he liked reading in the park while enjoying the warm spring weather, but he also yearned to do more simple, basic things kids his age did, like playing pretend or playing soccer. But Gyro had his own ways of doing those activities, and other kids resented him for that; which was why he pretended not to be interested when one of them had the strange idea to invite him.

Thankfully, Huey seemed to sense his hidden dilemma, for the duck sat next to him and gently spoke:

“You know, I think Fenton would sincerely like to play with you.” “Yeah, I know.” the chicken scoffed. “But I’m not a baby, thanks.” “There’s nothing baby-ish about playing superheroes and villains at your age, Gyro.” There was no reproach in Huey’s tone; the scientist was simply speaking his mind to the kid. “You’re incredibly smart and mature for your age, and I know that can be tiring sometimes. No shame in unwinding a little, you know?”

Huey respected the pensive silence Gyro let linger between them, before getting up:

“Well, if you want to join in, we’ll stay nearby.” the scientist said, walking towards where Fenton was pretending to fly, a few meters away. “The battle between Gizmoduck and Dr. Abyssmos promises to be legendary.”

Gyro nodded with a small “hmpf” before getting back to his book. However, Huey’s words had planted a seed inside of him, one that urged him to forget acting like an adult for once, a voice that was growing stronger and stronger and that he had trouble ignoring. Rolling his eyes, Gyro put his book aside and got up with a heavy sigh.

--------

“No, get back here!”

Louie lifted up a very unhappy Scrooge from the sandbox. The duckling gave his guardian a dirty look, complete with a pout, which Louie scoffed at.

“Yeah, get mad if you want, but it’s time to go back home. I know you, and if you don’t get your nap, you’re all cranky.” “No nap!” the small duck protested as Louie put him in his stroller, making sure the restraints were fastened. “Not tired! Scrooge wants to play!” “You’ve played for over an hour, buddy.” the duck wearing a green plaid shirt countered, gathering the toddler’s toys that were scattered all over the sandbox. “You built lots of sand castles, dug a lot of holes and even found a treasure.”

The “treasure” in question was a coin Louie had hidden in the sand when Scrooge had been busy bickering with Goldie, another toddler they often met in the park. The coin was safely tucked in the front pocket of the toddler’s overalls, where Goldie couldn’t steal it easily.

“Okay, now, let’s go- HEY! Get back here!” Louie screamed.

Scrooge had taken advantage of the situation: since Louie had been busy checking the whole sandbox and turned his back to the duckling the whole time, the clever toddler had unclasped the stroller’s restraints and ran away. Thankfully, “running away” didn’t mean he had gotten far, since even though he was quick, Scrooge’s waddling was no match for Louie’s hurried steps.

“If you keep this up, no dessert for you tonight.” The adult warned when he scooped Scrooge up in his arms, making sure the duckling looked him in the eye. “And I’ll take your treasure.”

A shocked gasp left the duckling’s body as Scrooge protectively put his hands in front of his pocket. Louie made sure to give the kid his trademark Evil Smile for more effect.

“Good. Napping isn’t so bad! You don’t know how lucky you are. I wish I could still nap.” Louie sighed, putting Scrooge’s toys in his bag and seating the toddler in the stroller.

His days were rather exhausting: he had to balance between his day job, his two nights a week patrolling Duckburg and fighting crime and raising three kids. Louie knew his brothers had it just as bad – Huey especially, since his job required longer hours and on top of that he was a Junior Woodchuck troop leader-, but he still craved for a quieter life sometimes. He’d never, ever want to be separated from Donald, Della and Scrooge and even less to be separated from Huey and Dewey; but sometimes, he wished he could have a day, or even two, only to himself.

“Louie?” Scrooge asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. Louie couldn’t help but smile; after all, the kid was very perceptive for his age. “Is Louie okay?” “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it.” the duck promised, ruffling the feathers on top of his relative’s head. “Come on, let’s go home! If you want, we can play adventurers after your nap.”

An enthusiastic cry was his answer, and Louie started making his way towards the park’s exit, pushing the stroller in front of him.

--------

“Give it back!” “Come and get it!”

Della was running as fast as her body would carry her, her laughter echoing in the ears of her angry sibling. Donald was chasing her, screaming nonsense and drawing everyone’s attention on them.

“I said to give it back, Dumbella!” “Hey!”

Donald smirked when his sister, offended, turned around and started running towards him. That always did the trick when Della wouldn’t listen- he had called her that countless times, and it was still as efficient as the first time he had found the nickname.

“I told you not to call me like that!” Della screamed, charging towards him. “Then you shouldn’t have stolen my stuff!” “I stole your stuff because you wouldn’t listen to me!” “And I wouldn’t listen to you because you never leave me alone!”

Their increasingly loud shouting match drew everyone’s attention on them, but the twins didn’t care. They were used to it- they were a pair of hot headed ducks, and screaming came as natural as talking to them, especially to Donald. So they kept yelling at each other, the original reason of their argument long forgotten. Donald and Della were standing in the middle of one of the parks’ alleys, inches apart, ears ringing with the others’ deafening screams.

“STOOOOOPPPPP!”

The pair was immediately shut up by the one person who could out-scream them. They turned towards the source of the loud shriek, who was standing right next to them, looking both annoyed, disappointed and a bit sad. Webby’s arms were crossed, and although she was silent, the twins dreaded a bit what was to come. Their aunt was never violent towards them, but she had an impressive aura when she wanted to.

“Guys… why are you fighting?” Webby asked calmly after an awkward moment. “Della stole my journal!” Donald was quick to gather his spirits and accuse his sister, angrily pointing at her. Della scoffed, the incriminating volume coming out of her pocket. “Is that true?” “Yeah, but Donald ignored me! So I had to get his attention somehow, right?” “True, but taking his belongings-” “You’re really annoying, Dumbella! I don’t always want to talk to you! I have a life outside of you!” “Yeah, well, so do I! But that doesn’t mean you have to ignore me all the time!”

And the Duck twins started another round of screaming their heads out. Webby frowned; Donald and Della had a tendency to have small spats, but this was unusually violent by their standards. She had to get to the bottom of it. The two of them were suffering from the situation, she saw it in the way Della’s eyes were filled with tears and with how Donald was growing more and more unintelligible.

“Ok, OK! STOP!”

The archaeologist physically put herself between her nephew and her niece, taking one of them in each arm, hugging them.

“Guys, this isn’t like you. Is this really about Donald ignoring you? And is this really about your journal?”

Webby knew she was right when Donald stopped speaking and Della looked away, suddenly very interested in the ground. She wasn’t very patient, or patient at all really, but she knew better than to try and squeeze the truth out of them. Her patience was rewarded when Della spoke up:

“It’s just… stuff happened at school today, and I wanted to take Donny’s mind out of it.” “What happened?” Webby asked softly, noticing the subtle way Donald twitched a bit. “Is this another Beagle boy situation?” “Yeah.” Della sighed.

Webby wrapped her arms tighter around the twins, suddenly feeling very protective of them. The Beagle boys were a gang of bullies in the kids’ school. They targeted pretty much everyone, but lately they had latched at Donald in particular. They had tried to be nasty to Della, but she and Donald had kicked those tendencies out of them – Huey had been the only one to somewhat scold them for hitting other kids, and their three other guardians had congratulated them. So they had gone to Donald in retaliation – except that instead of trying to hit him, they had found an approach that was far more efficient, and that was to make fun of him and his speech impediment. Huey and Webby had discussed it with the bullies’ parents and the kids’ teacher, but that apparently hadn’t been enough.

“What did they do this time?” “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Donald mumbled. “But, Donny-” Della tried. “Della.” Webby gently interrupted her. “We’ll see about that at home, okay? I promise you both your uncles and I are not going to let those little hooligans keep doing that to you.”

Donald wiped his eyes with the cuff of his shirt, nodding silently. Della left Webby’s embrace to throw herself at her brother, giving him a tight hug that Webby joined in, soothingly petting Donald’s head. She knew how difficult it was for the duckling to properly express his emotions, even with the help of his therapist, and she didn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable by talking about his issues in the middle of the park.

“But first, how about some ice cream?” the archaeologist offered with a smile, taking a step back.

Two pairs of eyes shone back at her, and two eager ducklings nodded their approval. Each of them took one of her hands, and the trio made their way towards’ the park’s food kiosk, near the entrance. Webby ordered for the twins and for herself: she knew their tastes by heart, and once again got it right, if the large smiles they gave her when she handed her their respective frozen treats was any indication.

“A triple chocolate sundae for Della, and a sea-salt parfait for Donald, there you go!” “Thank you, aunt Webby!” the twins said in unison.

They were about to bite into their desserts when they heard a loud scream, followed by a second, higher one. Startled, the three ducks turned their attention towards the source of the noise.

A small duck, mounted on roller skaters, was coming at them extremely fast, flailing his arms as if to slow down. Another one, covered in cardboard, was running after him and yelling him to stop; he was followed by a young chicken who was screaming what seemed to be instructions. Webby had barely noticed that Dewey and Huey were also running towards them, trying to catch up with the poor duckling, when all of a sudden-

CRASH!

Della was the fastest to react, hastily putting her sundae on a nearby table and making her way to where the skating duck, which had turned out to be their neighbours’ son Launchpad, had crashed, which was in another table, with Donald having been between them. The result was a mess: the table was broken and missed a leg, Launchpad was sitting on the ground and looking dizzy, and Donald was lying near the other duckling, his eyes closed and ice cream splattered all over his shirt.

“Donny!” she yelled, relieved, when her twin opened his eyes and waved at her before finding himself nearly strangled by the strength of Della’s sudden hug. “Are you okay?” “I can’t breathe-” “Are any of you injured?” the duck covered in cardboard asked, waddling towards Launchpad and helping him get on his feet. “Gizmoduck will-” “What is going on here?!”

Webby had been walking towards her nephew, but she turned around and faced a very surprised Louie. Huey and Dewey had reached her as well, both out of breath. Scrooge, comfortably sitting in his stroller, was also looking at the remnants of Launchpad’s crash, apparently very intrigued.

“I tried to teach LP how to roller skate.” Dewey sighed. “Didn’t turn out well.” “It never turns out well.” Louie winced, looking at Donald. Della was thoroughly inspecting him, and he looked very annoyed about it - which meant he was probably fine. “It’s a wonder he never injures himself.” Huey added. “Fenton and Gyro tried to stop him when he passed by us, but Gyro’s instructions were probably too complicated and Fenton was just screaming “halt, citizen, in the name of the law!”, so that might have panicked him even more.”

Gyro had taken a small pouch of his pocket and was looking at LP’s roller skates, either making sure they weren’t faulty or trying to improve them somehow, speaking to himself and sometimes giving a skating tip to Launchpad, who nodded at every single one of his tips. Della and Donald had sat down on a table, and were both digging into Della’s sundae, the girl looking fondly at her twin and sometimes glaring at Launchpad. Louie had taken Scrooge out of his stroller and handed him to Fenton: the kid loved toddlers and babies, and was very good at handling them, and Scrooge was very intrigued by the duckling’s homemade Gizmoduck armour.

Huey, Dewey, Louie and Webby couldn’t help but smile fondly at the kids. They were a handful, they were hard to understand and sometimes hard to talk to, but they brought so much joy in their lives that they would never have it any other way.

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

Ahhhh this was so fun to write! Let me know if I should write more of this AU! hmu on twitter @ sarahnitr0 !!

44 notes · View notes

lethesomething · 6 years

Text

Someone adopt Todoroki already

Let's talk about everyone's favourite BnHA prince, Todoroki Shouto, and his parental figures. This kid is some weird cross between Haikyuu's Kageyama and the Last Airbender's Zuko, in that he's a socially awkward pretty boy with a dark past and some very serious daddy issues. This kid has seen some shit, my dudes. And like those two he gets a rather satisfying, still ongoing character arc, making him one of those characters you can’t help but root for. You know what else Todoroki is? A walking symbolism manual.

Todoroki's parental figures

So BnHA is very interesting in the way it deals with parents. As opposed to most manga, they don't just all die or disappear into the background here. This series has some of the warmest mother-son relationships (hello Midoriya Inko), and it's also chock full of father figures (Dad Might, Dadzawa, Dad Torino). People like Midoriya and Bakugou, and Kirishima in the manga, get several of these mentors to help them on their way.

Todoroki, on the other hand, gets surprisingly few. He doesn't have the same relationship with Aizawa or All Might that Midoriya and Bakugou have, and he doesn't even get a separate mentor during his apprenticeship, because he chooses to spend that time with his own father. In a way, this makes a lot of sense. Whereas Midoriya gets outside guidance to grow, Todoroki's character development is very much an internal struggle. It is central to Todoroki's character arc that he learns how to deal with the parents he already has.

Putting this under a cut because it’s super long, and it ventures a little into manga territory (i tried to keep the spoilers mild).

Fire and Ice

I don't think I'm going to shock people when I mention that Endeavour, Todoroki Senior, is a bit of a dick. The man has many flaws as a father and a human being. He's abusive, for one. He is shown as proud, calculated, ruthless, selfish. He wants to mould his child with the very specific purpose of defeating his own greatest rival and he's willing to disregard the lives and feelings of others (like his wife) to make this happen. Now what may shock you is that honestly, I don't believe Endeavour is a purposely cruel person. You can't really save that many people if you're a full sadist. He appears to actually want a relationship with his son, or at the very least, he wants his son to look up to him. He doesn't seem to understand that holy shit, bro, you frigging traumatised that boy.

I feel that the way he's treated his kid, and his wife, is mostly him having a one track mind and going overboard. I'm not trying to redeem him here, but there are levels of evil and Endeavour for me falls into the 'drunk in a wife-beater' category. Putting aside the question of whether Dabi is also a Todoroki sibling, it does seem like not all his kids hate him, for instance. Shouto's sister Fuyumi seems pretty ok living in that house still. As a school teacher, she is an adult woman with an income who could be living alone. The fact that she stays in that house could mean she's there to take care of her younger siblings, or that she at least has a casual enough relationship with her (rich AF) dad that staying is preferable to making it on her own. Honestly, he probably just lowkey ignored his other kids for most of their childhood, or at least let them have a normal life. As such, it's mostly just Todoroki's bad luck that he was born as a 'perfect sample'. Endeavour strikes me as someone who is very full of himself and it causes him to look at other human beings as a means to an end.

On the other side of the scale is Mrs. Todoroki. Like Izuku's mother, she is framed first and foremost as someone who loves, someone who cares, someone selfless. But unlike Inko, her selflessness is pushed to a point where she can't take it anymore. This is a woman who has lost any and all agency. She is trapped in a loveless marriage she did not want and she doesn't even seem to have a name of her own. She is just 'Mrs. Todoroki', a plaything to be used and disposed of by a powerful man. The pain and fear she absorbs during the years is too great and she snaps, hurting the ones she loves the most. She is then quickly carted off and locked away somewhere out of view.

Appearances

So how has this whole business shaped Todoroki? For one: he doesn't give a damn about appearances. BnHA is very big on the difference between what you look like, and what you are. For a blatant example, check out the 'two forms' of All Might. Appearances are important for a hero, but Todoroki knows that this could be bullshit. Endeavour is the 'number two' hero. He is looked up to as a great and powerful man by the general populace, but it seems to be a bit of an open secret (judging by Present Mic's reaction at the Sports Festival) that he's a grade A jerk. On the other hand 'Mrs Todoroki' is known as a violent woman. Someone crazy. Someone dangerous. Someone that has to be hidden away in a hospital, never to see the light of day. In both these cases Todoroki knows better. He doesn't particularly look at the outside. He doesn't even judge people on what they say, but on what they do.

On a much more symbolic level, this is even the case for the whole 'element' business. I personally love how the reality of Todo's fire and ice, and of his parents elements, doesn't correspond to their official 'element'. Fire is supposed to be warm. The 'hearth' is the traditional centre of the family, whereas ice evokes the cold, lonely wilderness. But when it comes to parental love, Todoroki's mom's is the warm one. Her loves is even so hot that it when it goes out of control, it literally burns his skin. On the other hand, his father's love is a cold one. To his father, Todoroki is a product, a pawn in the race for Number One. It is an attitude that causes Todoroki to reject any sentimental ties he has to his father, almost literally turning the boy into a block of ice, since that's the only skill he's willing to use.

Walking. Symbolism. Manual.

Dual personality

But as the manga mentions, Todoroki is the perfect genetic mix of both his parents, whether he wants it or not. He is the 'half and half bastard' and step one in his development is actually becoming that. When we first meet Todoroki, he has a cold personality and he quite literally only uses ice, in apparent defiance of his father. This is his Ice Side. It is calculated, it is sharp, it is dismissive of others and it is ambitious. This is the kid that wants to win the tournament on half strength. It is the kid that challenges Midoriya as an 'opponent-to-beat'. It is, against all rebellious tendencies, the personality of his father.

Now let's look at his Fire Side. Remember when we first saw that? It's not the moment you're thinking of. It's this one

Todoroki's fire side is passion, it is anger, it is explosive and full of feelings. It is the side that cares, and cares so much that sometimes it explodes and threatens to hurt people (like poor Sero). Oddly enough, Todoroki's Fire Side comes much closer to his mother's personality.

Don’t believe me?

Todoroki's mom with a whistling kettle in the background.

Todoroki right before he freezes the hell out of Sero.

Achievement: Fire

Enter Midoriya, our superhero with an extra in 'unlocking character development'. What our boy does, in the tournament, is set Todoroki's fire side free from several years of suppression, obviously. He does this by making him forget about his father and get more in touch with his mother.

For just that moment, Todoroki switched sides, willingly.

And you see that from then on, he starts to flip between both sides more regularly. In his fight with Bakugou he's still sputtering, but honestly, boy just had a revelation, you can't expect him to be up to speed that fast. But you do see it more often later on.

We see Todoroki slowly warm up to his classmates, particularly to Iida and Midoriya. We see him start to visit his mother, because he's quite literally nurturing that side of him.You see him give very sensitive advice and lose his cool (heh) another time, like in the superhero exam. We see him remain his calm and calculated self all through that Bakugou rescue mission.

Back to dad

An interesting point in the story here, is the apprenticeship. Todoroki chooses to go to his father here. This is a calculated decision and he even mentions that in the anime. His father is a popular hero and it gives him good opportunities to work with the 'number two', despite whatever his feelings for this man may be. That's his ice side speaking (his father's side, if you follow my theory).

Now look what happens when Midoriya needs help.

Instant dismissal.

Todoroki knows what he cares about, and it is the continued well-being of Midoriya. The switch is almost instantly flipped. Forget his father, go save his friend. His mother's side is slowly but surely gaining.

Balance

Right now, you see a lot of duality in everything Todoroki does. This boy, despite unlocking both sides of himself, is still very much struggling. He can still come across as aloof in unfortunate situations. And let's not forget that his explosive side is just that. Explosive. If he doesn't learn to reign that in, he, too, could cause hurt to others. What Todoroki needs, more than anything, is to balance these sides of himself. The right brain and the left brain. Hot and cold, doing and feeling, Ice and Fire. Right now, he's almost split himself in half, showing one side now and another side the next. I'm not sure if all that switching is altogether healthy, but at least it's better than what he did before when he was literally suppressing entire parts of himself. It's progress. I'm hoping that he'll get past this stage also. It's slow going, but honestly? I get that. Kid's seen some shit.

PS: I have a bunch of these BnHA meta things.

#todoroki shouto #character theory #bnha #boku no hero academia #endeavour #man this is long #i know i keep saying it #but this is very long

371 notes · View notes

lovethisskin · 6 years

Text

In Conversation: Destiny Birdsong

We are beyond excited and honoured to start 2018 talking to acclaimed American poet, essayist and editor; Destiny Birdsong. Destiny has won the Academy of American Poets Prize, Naugatuck River Review’s 2016 Poetry Contest, and Meridian’s 2017 “Borders” Contest in Poetry. She’s had fellowships from Cave Canem and Callaloo among others.

She openly speaks to us about her experience with albinism, her family, writing out her fears and her hopes for young people with albinism

Photo: Hunter Armistead. Makeup: LaRisa Jones

We work in African communities and mostly have an African audience - Your background is different from that of our readers, tell us a bit about your community and how you grew up.

I grew up in the American South—Shreveport, Louisiana, to be exact. It’s not a big city, but it’s also not a small town. I haven’t lived there in many years, but it’s a place I love deeply. There’s something about the miles and miles of flat land, the pine trees, and all the waterways that will forever be a part of my concept of home, even though there are other places that share that moniker for me. Shreveport is an interesting place; it’s not in the part of the state most heavily populated by French-speaking Acadians or French Creoles (whose cultures Louisiana is most famous for), but it is definitely influenced by them in terms of food and other forms of celebration (like Mardi Gras), as well as in how the people around me thought about race and color. I grew up in an African American family where people were a range of colors, and my albinism never made me feel out of place in that regard. There is no general phenotype for us; I was just one color of many. So many of my family members’ nicknames are based on appearance, and particularly color. I have an uncle called “Fat Ear,” another called “Black Boy,” and yet another called “Red Boy.” When I was a baby, my uncles nicknamed me “Honey,” which they thought matched the color of my hair. I spend most of my life away from my family, and something in me starts to heal from the world when I walk into a room and my Uncle Carlos yells: “Honey Bunny!” I love my family for taking one look at me and naming me after something carefully made and harvested, something precious and sweet.

Of course, people outside the safe space of my family still said and did mean things during my childhood, but I was rarely—if ever—made to feel “less black” than others. And, while I was certainly made fun of, I felt physically safe in most of my environments. I do have one distinct memory of being bullied, however, and it was in pre-school. I’ve worn glasses since I was three years old, and this girl who had been hassling me on the playground one day smacked them off. Apparently, that was the last straw: somehow, I got a hold of her finger and bit down to the bone. She was rushed to the emergency room, and I was sent home. I love that story, especially since it’s the one time I got in trouble in school, but didn’t get in trouble at home. My mother knew the girl had been picking on me, and she understood why I retaliated. My mother never condoned violence, but she did give me space to stand up for myself, and she and the rest of my family made me feel like I had the right to do so. I also use this story to remind myself of something that I apparently knew then, but sometimes forget now: I matter, and no one has the right to treat me poorly simply because they feel like they can.

Do you remember when you initially became aware of your hyper-visibility?

There are two distinct moments that come to mind. The first happened when I was perhaps three or four years old, and I overheard my mother tell her best friend that, when she was at the grocery store, shew saw two children who looked like me. I wasn’t there with her, but I remember understanding that, when she said that, she also meant that we didn’t look like everyone else. The other time was a bit later—five or so—when I drew a picture of an imaginary friend named “Samantha.” Samantha had yellow hair and wore glasses, and my mother was touched, but also a little tickled; she showed that picture to everyone she knew. Although she understood better than I did at the time, we both knew who Samantha looked like, and why: I needed to see someone else who looked like me.

How have you navigated your albinism in your writing, what are some issues/aspects related to having the condition, feature most in your work?

This is a tough one, because, like everyone else (I imagine), this condition is one part of my identity, but doesn’t encapsulate the totality of my experience. I write about a number of things: love, sexual trauma, mental and physical health/illness, my family, my belief systems—so, whenever any of those things comes to the page, I let it come. I’m not sure if I ever developed a strategy for navigation. I do think, however, that in recent years, I’ve been more forthcoming about my fears and insecurities in my work, and albinism is certainly a part of that conversation, so I write about it more freely now. But, as I was recently telling a friend, I don’t come to the page with intentions so much as I come with questions, and if I am interrogating something about my experience with albinism and I feel like writing it out, then I write it out.

Oh! Ok, so I do have a caveat. I recently started writing fiction, and I deliberately made my main character a woman living with albinism. My decision was based on a few things. First, my best friend writes urban fiction, and we once had a conversation about how some writers in the genre create heroines who are cookie-cutter tropes: fair-skinned, long-haired, thin—very traditionally beautiful by some cultural standards. As such, these characters easily attract the interest of lovers and they are the darlings of whatever space they inhabit. I can’t speak to the motives of those writers, because I don’t know them or live inside their heads, but my first thoughts were: if these writers create such characters because they believe that a specific kind of beauty is more palatable for readers, and more believable, then that’s unfortunate for us as the audience, but also for the writers themselves (especially if they too don’t fit into that paradigm). There is a certain kind of trauma in never seeing yourself depicted as beautiful anywhere, not even in your own work. So, when I started writing fiction, I made a decision that my narrator would have albinism, and she would be desirable. She’s also really regular-degular (shout-out to Cardi B): she has no superpowers aside from code-switching and humor. I wanted her to be unique, but also just a person—someone you could imagine being friends with and commiserating with and understanding. I rarely see people with albinism depicted as such anywhere. And, of course, since I’m a hopeless romantic, her love interest falls in love with her. Well, eventually—I haven’t written that part yet.

There’s often a struggle between being vulnerable in talking about one’s experience with having albinism, and protecting yourself; how have you balanced being open and willing to educate others, and not feeling too exposed?

I practice one rule in this regard: people can ask me anything, but I reserve the right to refuse to answer. That’s my general rule about most things, and I try to offer that to others whenever I ask them questions about any subject I perceive as sensitive. I think that, as relational beings, we have all, at some point or another, fallen into the trap of assuming that, because we know a person who is privy to a particular experience, then they are conveniently available to provide the narrative of that experience for us. I’m certainly guilty of having done it in the past. However, I’ve learned that I don’t have the right to anyone’s body of knowledge, and they don’t have any right to mine if I don’t want to make it available to them. There are other ways to learn a thing, and to be informed.

There are some people who feel PWA should always self-advocate, what’s your view on this? Should we always carry the responsibility to help educate others?

Absolutely not. For instance, in public spaces, I often get the question: “Are you related to [insert the name of some other person they know who has albinism]?” Sometimes, I want to say “No, because not all of us are related. This is a complex genetic condition that spans ethnicities, countries, and cultures.” However, that is emotional labor, and I reserve the right not to perform it if I don’t want to. Sometimes, I just want to be doing whatever it is I was doing before I was interrupted: shopping for groceries, dining with friends, or taking a walk in a park. To be called to step out of the normalcy of my life to explain something to a person who perceives my body as abnormal, and thus demands that I explain this to them, is intrusive, and I don’t owe them anything. It can also take a toll on my emotional equanimity—especially if they prolong the conversation with follow-up questions, which they often do, and which are almost always deeply personal. I reserve the right to choose when to subject myself to that.

Do you have anyone in your family/community/role models of people with the condition, how did you find this experience?

No, I didn’t, and I was about to say “unfortunately,” but that’s a difficult thing to gauge in hindsight. I also don’t want to detract from the legacy of the people who were there. I was raised in a family of talented, innovative, and fiercely loving black women who have taught me a great deal about how to be a woman; and yet, whenever I hear the following words from Lucille Clifton’s “won’t you celebrate with me,” I always think of coming into womanhood as a person with albinism: “i had no model…/what did i see to be except myself?” In Clifton’s words, I made a lot of it up. I just did my research and/or figured it out and/or kept trying until I got what I needed. In so many ways, I am still doing that.

What words would you like to share with parents of children with the condition?

I don’t have any children, so it’s hard for me to tell any parent how to raise theirs, but I can say that it was—and still is—important for the people I love to give me space to feel what I can’t always articulate, and what people without the condition cannot always understand. There is something about my being hypervisible for every moment of my life outside my house that is both exhausting and exhilarating. I have a few other conditions—anxiety, depression, etc.—that sometimes make leaving the house an act of defiance. That is difficult, but I’m quite proud of that, and proud of the person I’ve become in spite of it. It’s important for the people around me to acknowledge that struggle, even when it looks effortless. I have a lovely family and wonderful friends who ask “Why are you so hard on yourself? You’re beautiful!” That’s important for me to hear, but it’s equally important for them to understand that everyone doesn’t see what they see; and, sometimes, I’ll be sad or frustrated by reactions that aren’t as complimentary, or as kind. If you are raising someone with albinism, give all of their feelings space, even as you remind them that one person’s opinion shouldn’t determine how you feel about yourself.

To young people with albinism, what are you hoping they take away, not only from your story, but their own experiences?

This one may take a bit of time to unravel, but trust me, I’m going somewhere! So, I spent most of the early part of this summer outdoors, which is rare for me: I’m a bookworm and not much of an athlete, and, of course, I burn easily (not to mention the fact that I often forget to wear sunscreen). But this summer, I spent four days at an outdoor music festival, and then travelled with my sister to the Bahamas. All around me were tan, thin, beautiful people, and I felt so self-conscious about my skin. This is unkind, but I literally felt apologetic that people had to look at it and spend time around it. Anyway, a few months later, I developed a skin condition that is temporary, but also incredibly uncomfortable, and it drastically changed the appearance of my skin. Fortunately, it’s finally resolving itself, but in the meantime, I’m realizing that I haven’t been loving my skin the way it deserves to be loved. It doesn’t do what everyone else’s skin does, but it is healthy, for which I am fortunate, and it’s beautiful, period. No caveats. I wish I had understood this earlier. I wish I hadn’t internalized so much of everyone else’s opinions about it. I wish I had known that one person’s recoil doesn’t mean I am unsightly or damaged or worthless. I feel like it’s never too late to change anything and enrich the quality of one’s life, but I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time thinking otherwise.

From their own experiences, I’d say: live your whole life. Albinism is an anomaly that you can’t change, and that may sometimes bring you grief, but don’t try to normalize the rest of your life as consolation for those around you. If you are quirky, if you have interests that differ from people around you, if you think differently from them, hold on to those things. Cherish them. In childhood, they might make you the butt of someone’s joke, or the object of ridicule, but hang on to them. Those opinions change over time, and in adulthood, those traits could make you an artist, a millionaire, an inventor, a world-changer—we won’t know if those parts of you don’t survive. Also, celebrate your albinism. As part of my faith practice, I believe God specifically made me to be myself. He determined my tastes and my cravings, my talents and challenges, my complex desires, and who and what I would come to love. Albinism was part of that plan. It too has its purpose, even though I’m still figuring out what that is. How wonderful it is to think that, years before I would learn to smile or wash my face, God set the bones in it to look like my mother’s and her mother’s, then covered them with a different skin. Then, He set my eye color to match my father’s, though they move differently. I’m no admixture of anything. I am a body curated from my ancestors, but also completely different from them. I can’t say I’m always happy about it, but I can say that, fragile as it often is, my body has survived. So has yours. Every cell in our bodies is narrative and counternarrative, plot and plot twist. We are also vulnerable, but we are also brave enough to be so. That is something worth celebrating.

Photo: Noelle Théard

#LoveThisSkin

3 notes · View notes

love-takes-work · 7 years

Text

"Garnet only talks about Fusion stuff now"

So I've got some stuff to say about my favorite character: Garnet!

It's kind of in response to some criticism I've heard: specifically, that Garnet became nothing but a Fusion poster child who thinks about and talks about nothing but fusion since the time her Fusion status was revealed at the end of Season One.

But I’m not really arguing with the perspective so much as trying to bring some nuance to seeing why Garnet is written the way she is--by examining how her focus has changed over time and what I think we're going to see the show do with her in the future.

Okay, so to some extent? Yes, Garnet’s inclination to talk about fusion all the time went into overdrive after the reveal. Garnet says very little about herself for an entire season, doesn't find excuses to bring up fusion, doesn't seem particularly eager to extol the virtues of fusion or fuse with others (though they seem excited to fuse with her, for sure!), and only has a couple little hints about being a giant fusion-fan dork when we see her reaction to Stevonnie.

But keep in mind that in Season One, Garnet’s few attempts to open up were not rewarded. For instance, Garnet felt punished for revealing something about herself--her Future Vision--to Steven late in Season One, and it was clear that she risked it because the possibility of being closer to him was worth so much. She learned that her words have incredible power, and that this power is magnified when she’s letting others into the reality of her existence. Garnet is . . . let's be serious here, Garnet is majestic and bafflingly cool but she can be kind of awkward. She seems like a stoic badass most of the time when she doesn't open her mouth, but she can REALLY be a mess when she starts talking and doesn’t think it through first.

She's completely in her element when she's talking about fusion, though--and it's not just because she is a Fusion and loves being one. It's also because she was the FIRST of her type of Fusion, and she had to fight so hard on so many levels to be allowed to exist. Her existence has, for so long, been ABOUT being allowed to exist.

I'm going to take a weird turn here and talk about Amethyst. But it'll connect in a minute, I promise.

Amethyst was the clear outsider of the Crystal Gems. She arrived after the war and has no idea about a lot of the events from Gem history. She spent most of her life with no idea that she was "supposed to be" big like Jasper, or what it was like to live on Homeworld, or what other Amethysts might be like, or what her status would have been if she'd come out on time.

And I imagine Rose ADORED THAT.

I suppose Rose was DELIGHTED at the idea of a Gem being alive for the first time in known history without that programming. What it must be like to NOT be indoctrinated into Gem culture, the worst parts of it anyway, not have to fight to oppress others and steal resources for your world and worship your Diamond, just to LIVE as part of a family, somewhat like the humans Rose so admired. Amethyst was a clean slate!

I don't know how much she came out of the ground knowing, but it's clear she was NOT programmed with any idea about what Gems are "supposed to be" like. It was news to her when Peridot said she was supposed to be twice her size, was supposed to outrank everyone on her team, was this mysterious thing called a Quartz.

It's a lot like being adopted: she never knew any other family, and she loved her family and her home, but what is it like, to use an inappropriate human analogy, to find one's BLOOD? When you're the only one in your family who never knew it?

It was satisfying to her to find her Famethyst at the Zoo. Seeing other Amethysts (and Beta Quartzes), knowing that most of them might have been huge but ended up total goofballs like her, with her ancestry, with the answer to her original name (which to her wasn't an automatizing reduction of identity to an alphanumeric designation, but instead represented CONNECTION, HISTORY, ANSWERS). What it must be like to her to find that family and know something she'd never known--something Rose didn't want her to ever have to know, but still had meaning to her.

Back to Garnet.

Garnet is a Fusion, and she can never QUITE be an individual the way single Gems can. She doesn't consider that a failing, and even though she almost always feels like one being, her Fusion identity IS her. "This is who we are" and "This is who I am" are both statements about her that are true, even though they suggest duality and individuality at once. Garnet has no one to talk to about that, and she's used to keeping it inside. But no Gems who meet her are ignorant that she's a Fusion. They immediately see it, looking at her, knowing that's what she is and carrying whatever judgment they might have about it.

Enter Steven.

He has no idea what a Fusion is for most of his life, and has no idea that he might need to see Garnet as fundamentally different from his other "parents." That may have been sort of freeing for her, I think. Not telling Steven was really her only chance to know what it's like to look into someone's eyes and know they just think of you like one being.

Let's remind ourselves who told Steven about fusion. It wasn't Garnet! Amethyst brought up Opal. Pearl explained what fusion is. Opal was the first Fusion Steven met while knowing he was meeting a Fusion, and he felt a little weird about it at first because he didn't know who she was and was worried she wouldn't know who he was. Steven still has no appreciable relationship with Opal. Just with Pearl and Amethyst.

Garnet is a perma-Fusion and she isn't going to spend much of her life unfused. It's what she wants and it's what Sapphire and Ruby want. Steven obviously wants to understand them, and he has more of a relationship with them than with Opal, but I doubt Garnet wants him to get too used to it. She's the permanent fixture there. She's going to stay Garnet. And she wanted Steven to love that she is Garnet without feeling a weird sense of loss over the idea that her presence prevents him from seeing Ruby or Sapphire.

But during Season One, Garnet found that presenting herself like a single Gem means keeping a secret and not opening up much at all.

She became more demonstrative after the reveal because she COULD be--and someone she loves so much has crossed the threshold where he could have judged her or been upset, and he WASN'T. You could see she felt guilty, but also so relieved.

She is free to talk about it now, to show him who she is, to help him understand his own fusion capabilities and fusion identity when he's part of Stevonnie or Smoky, and for once, she gets to be the mentor to someone about something so sacred to her.

There is more to Garnet than being a Fusion--much more. She has a personality. She has strengths, and interests, and fears, and quirks both adorable and troubling. The show does continue to explore those, and I think sometimes people forget about it when this show focuses on her relationships.

In "Reformed," Garnet explored her influence as a leader and what "being too hard on" Amethyst inspired in her; it was an Amethyst episode, but Garnet learned too, and it wasn't "about" her being a Fusion.

When she was frozen in horror under the Kindergarten when she met the fusion experiments, of course this related to fusion and was particularly upsetting to her because it's a perversion of her identity, but she also explored her feelings of guilt and grief, and discussed the importance of consent with Steven.

And the consent issue came up again with Sardonyx, which again, though it focused on fusion, it was not exclusively about Garnet being a Fusion. It was about trust with Pearl, betrayal, and again, the important heaviness of being the leader, being the one everyone looks to for what to do--even when she's falling apart, she has to be the example. "Always the bigger Gem," indeed. Interesting how in that case, her Fusion status made her more vulnerable to taking that betrayal so much more personally.

Since then, yes, we've seen a LOT of fusion-centric stuff about her. Peridot's Very Special Episode with Garnet was about understanding fusion, but also about understanding GARNET. As is necessary with understanding Garnet, seeing her as a Fusion is an important part of understanding her as a whole. It's not the only thing to understand, but it is FUNDAMENTAL.

The episode "The Answer" was the story of her relationship and how she became herself, but it was also about her being literally unmasked for an entire episode, coming forward to tell Steven an important foundation of her character, having the chance finally to reveal personal information to him NOT under duress, in a way she chose and planned and had complete control of. And then having Steven appreciate and accept THAT. Not in a terrible situation when they'd been kidnapped and Ruby and Sapphire were wrenched apart and revealed to him in such a traumatic way. This time, it’s HER way. Garnet got to do that, and got to include him, on her terms.

"Monster Reunion" had important Garnet stuff in it--it wasn't a Garnet-centric episode, but it involved Garnet first denying Steven's request to help Centipeetle, and then giving in, and then acknowledging that letting him follow his heart had been a good decision.

In the "Bismuth" episode, Bismuth kept bringing up Garnet's being a Fusion as a sort of breaking-your-balls kind of ribbing, but at the point when they'd known each other, that was a new thing, something she was probably actively trying to develop pride in, just like Pearl and her pride in belonging to no one.

"Mindful Education" wasn't just about fusion training or learning to cultivate balance; it was also about mindfulness meditation in general, and though it focused on how being out of sync is particularly confusing and lethal for Fusions, it had very good lessons about handling trauma and reminding yourself where you are, which can be generalized for Steven and Connie even when they're not Stevonnie.

"Three Gems and a Baby" did sort of oversimplify each of the Gems' misunderstandings of what Steven might be--Amethyst trying to see the glow as evidence of shapeshifting, Pearl trying to see the glow as evidence that Rose is operating by known Gem logic and is trapped but not gone, Garnet trying to see the glow as evidence that Steven is a complex Fusion with human organic material and is trying to unfuse.

I'm not sure exactly what Garnet was thinking was going to happen if she was right and he unfused into two beings, but she evidently STILL thinks of Steven as a type of love Fusion if you assume Guide to the Crystal Gems is accurate. It's pretty typical to draw common ground between yourself and someone you want to understand or be closer to. And if you think about it, this episode also showed that Garnet, despite her attempts to be a calm voice of reason, REALLY MISSES ROSE and was showing how desperate she was to see her again. Yes, she focused on fusion, but it was something larger in context--just like she is.

And then "Steven's Dream" happened, which involved some pretty heavy stuff between Garnet and Steven. She withheld the truth, she didn't know how to make him stay out of danger, she felt powerless and helpless to stop him because she still has so much fear of the Diamonds and what they can so easily take away from her and her planet and her friends. She gets a lot of criticism over this episode because she fumbled SO epically when almost all of us can think of something we could have said to stop Steven from going to Korea if we'd been partial to Garnet's visions. But that was an episode about their relationship, her shortcomings, her WEAKNESSES, and both of the times she expressed her helplessness, she took her visor off like she always does in super sincere moments.

This whole dynamic was very important, and though it did lead to a plot line that made her unfusing necessary, I think a lot of people overlook "Steven's Dream" as a significant Garnet episode. It is. Garnet screwed up and it had nothing to do with her being a Fusion and it had everything to do with how she can fall to pieces in other ways if she's made to face her fears--to even consider being face to face with Blue Diamond.

"Room for Ruby" had a couple Garnet moments too; it opened and closed with Steven interacting with Garnet, and though not much went on, it seemed like she is still trying to figure out how much to put in Steven's hands . . .

And I wouldn't be surprised if she's wondering when and if and to what extent Steven can share the burden or take over as leader, like his mother. Because I don't think Garnet particularly likes leading the team. She does it because she can handle it, but she's not always the best strategist. She can be emotional in ways that make her short-sighted, and that's when--like Ruby--she punches first and asks questions later, and--like Sapphire--she puts on a mask and pretends everything is very fine and no one needs to worry. Garnet struggling with this, and with being wrong, and with her role on the team, is sort of subtle compared to Fusion-related material, but it's very much there.

I am in agreement with some of the folks who would like to see some straight-up individual character development for Garnet when she's not talking about fusion or focusing on being a Fusion or educating someone about fusion. I'd like to know more about her hobbies--what would she do with a day if she had one all to herself without worrying about capturing Gems or leading missions? I'd like to know more about her funny little competitive nature. I'd like to see more of those quirky behaviors come up, where she does something unexplainable because she's just kind of a weirdo (you know, like putting Steven on her head and walking away, or drawing a picture of herself when everyone else is drawing suspect sketches, or jumping out of the van instead of telling Greg to turn the music off).

But I think it's unrealistic to expect Garnet to be much more expressive than she is now, because she just isn't that demonstrative and THAT is part of who she is.

She's a pressure cooker. She keeps things inside and she resolves them internally--which is probably partially a consequence of being a conversation. Sometimes, like a pressure cooker, she can explode, and you're going to see her truth in those moments and in a few quiet moments when she chooses to tell a story.

You're not going to see the kinds of feelings and spoken desires you get from Steven, Amethyst, or Pearl (who all also have very different ways of expressing themselves, but at least tend to DO SO in more overt ways than Garnet does). If they kept journals: Steven would have a sketch diary and would make an effort to end even his sad entries on a happy note. Amethyst would make fun of everything and occasionally write an angry rant. Pearl would write sad poetry and shopping lists and occasional heartfelt observations. I think Garnet wouldn't keep one. She doesn't seem to feel comfortable with words taking her feelings up for her, and she guards what she feels closely. The fact that she doesn't tell us things actually tells us things.

I don't think it's lazy writing or turning her into a one-note character to have Garnet frequently putting her life in context through the lens of Fusion.

Fusion is the reason she exists and it is, to be quite literal, who and what she is. It was a radical act that she pioneered, and it must have been amazing to become someone who could define her own life instead of going along with her ingrained Ruby or Sapphire programming. Garnet was more an individual than either of them could have been at that time in their lives, even if that sounds like a contradiction. She's still creating that person, and still conceiving it as a radical, beautiful act just to be herself. That’s why she’s so great.

I don't want the show to stop exploring what that means to her, and what that means to everyone around her. I'm not tired of it. I think her character can find new things to talk about, sometimes incorporating information and experience surrounding fusion, and sometimes having it be irrelevant or tangential. But just like those of us who, for example, live with a marginalized sexual identity, something that fundamental to who you are and that different from most people you know always seems to come back into relevance, sometimes when you're not even steering the conversation.

I think some of you will know what I'm talking about when I say it does just always seem to come up, because it's an interesting thing about you that people who aren't like you can't fully understand, and sometimes you want to tell everyone all the things and sometimes you just really want them to leave you alone. But it's definitely part of your truth, and it's something you want people to understand about you and accept about you, and you might feel a little like you're lying if you haven't told someone or you just let them think that important thing is not there.

Garnet's identity is a lot like that in some ways--there's no "Jailbreak" episode where you come out once and then you don't ever have to do it again. Garnet keeps having to demonstrate and identify what is different about her, and it continues to be very, very relevant in her life, affecting her relationships and the way she sees the world, how she looks, what her comfort with herself is, what abilities she has, what people think of her. It's everything. And that fact doesn't make her lesser, nor does it oversimplify her.

I don't know what direction the writers will take us with Garnet, but I trust that it will be something I want to know. I find her really interesting and for many reasons very personally relatable. If there's still more to hear about fusion from her, I want to hear it all. If there's less related stuff, I want that too.

Pearl's been struggling toward defining herself separately from others, separately from her grief over Rose. She's making progress. Amethyst's been struggling toward building self-esteem and understanding her place in the world. She's making progress. Some people say Garnet stopped being interesting once she threw out her big revelation in "Jailbreak" and then didn't evolve from there.

I want to know what show they're watching.

There's been so much with her, and I'm not going to say she doesn't struggle, but unlike the others, Garnet's struggles aren't about making peace with HERSELF. She probably did have that struggle when she was new, but she knows who she is now, and that she’d rather be herself than anything she was designed to be. When you have a stable self-identity and step onto that pedestal as a mentor, you can end up giving more than getting in these kinds of stories, but HER struggles seem to be with how much she can give to others without compromising herself.

She's not self-destructive like Amethyst was, or self-sacrificing like Pearl was. But she gets punished a lot for coming out of her shell, and I think her story is largely going to be about letting others in and dealing with what it means to reach out. Garnet does seem to want connection, and I mean that as an individual. She treasures her relationships with the others, and sometimes despite her being kind of a dork with words she honestly knows the right thing to say.

To sum up, if you think Garnet's become a one-note character, I encourage you to listen for the subtler harmonies. She's got a really interesting duality, both subtle and blunt, and I'm here for all of it--including when it seems to contradict itself. Who isn't a contradiction sometimes? What she's taught us about her identity is really complex and weirdly relatable for something so alien to humans. I think it deserves at least as much attention as it's getting.

I still agree with the people who don't want fusion to be the center of every story about her, but I think they're wrong if they believe that's how it is right now. Or rather, that it's ALL she is, or that what they're showing us is simple and uncomplicated enough to be unworthy of further exploration. It's just that SHE is the center of every story about her, and she is a Fusion, so that affects everything she sees and does.

We should expect it to.

#steven universe #my su analysis #su meta #su analysis #garnet #long post #myblog

529 notes · View notes

naomi-l-tiessen-blog · 7 years

Text

Tips on Staying [Relatively] Sane While Writing

Hellllooooooo Everybody ~

Happy Thursday Blogday!

Let’s face it: we’ve all been there, where at some point or another, writing stops being fun. Writing is our calling; we were born on this cynical planet to tell stories. It’s been written into our DNA, it’s our passion, it’s the reason Why. We. Breathe.

And it’s stopped being fun. In fact, it’s driving us a little batty.

*Le Gasp!!*

Cue the world ending.

Don’t worry. It happens to the best of us. It’s common to fall in and out of love with writing, especially considering we should be treating it like a job, and who doesn’t fall in and out of love with their job? Or, better yet, upgrade and develop a love-hate relationship with it altogether? It’s perfectly normal for your life passion to make you seriously question your sanity. And really, Lord knows it doesn’t matter if that passion is a hobby or a profession; insanity is completely inclusive and knows no boundaries. Honestly, you should watch me play video games; as much as I love them, I’m generally a mess when I play.

I know we all like to think that we are tough as nails and have nerves of steel, but the truth of the matter is this: we are human. We are fragile sometimes. And sometimes, SOMETIMES, our mental game isn’t exactly top notch. And while this might not seem like a big deal, not being 100% in the mental health department can lead to other things, like other health issues, insomnia, poor eating habits, increased hermitage, poor writing, or worse, NO writing.

Ok, NOW cue the world ending.

So, before you toss in the towel and seriously consider a new passion, let me settle your worried soul and offer 10 tips on how to salvage the last bits of your already fragile mental psyche. Some of these may work for you, and some of them may not. Some of them won’t be very nice to hear (you’ve been warned; the faint of heart should avert ye eyes), but are important nonetheless.

Without further ado, 10 tips on how to stay [relatively] sane while writing:

1) Take a break. This one is important, guys. When was the last time you got up, stretched, and focused on something besides your computer screen? Sometimes when we are so focused on our work, we forget that we have a body…a human body…and those things have needs! We ignore the signs our bodies are throwing at us, like muscle aches, eye strain, hunger pains, headaches, and full bladders. Trust me, your work isn’t going anywhere. You can afford a 5-minute pee break. It’ll all be there when you get back. And if it isn’t…well…I blame the wizards.

2) Make a schedule for yourself. Set alarms to remind yourself to take breaks, to eat, to do something that isn’t writing-oriented. Maybe instead of saying, “I will write today!” start with smaller, less vague goals. “I will write 500 words, take a 10-minute break, and then write another 500 words.” This goal is a lot more specific, is well-structured, has a beginning and end, and is easily attainable! Make it a habit to start each writing session with a routine so you know which direction you are heading in; going head-first into a session without an end-goal often leads to procrastination, frustration, and disappointment.

3) Switch it up. If the routine you are currently stuck in feels more like a rut than anything, perhaps it’s time to develop a new ritual. Try something different. Leave the house. Listen to a different playlist. Play around with a couple writing exercises to get the ideas flowing. Write in a group if you normally hermit it up (and vice versa, if you are on the more social side). Pick apart your routine and see what is working, and what isn’t. It’s amazing to see the sorts of things that might be helping alleviate your stress, and what might be exacerbating it.

4) Reward yourself. When you meet a goal, celebrate! Eat that candy, take a breather to watch that movie, go to the bookstore and buy that book you’ve been eyeing up. Allowing yourself those little treats is a great way to lighten the mood, offer momentary distraction, and reinforce further positive behavior. Think of it like this. If you are training your puppy to go to the front door when it needs to pee, you are going to offer positive feedback when it does the task you want it to do. Your puppy is then going to associate doing the right thing with something good (ie: praise, cuddles, and/or treats). The same thing goes for you (except, for the love of God, I hope you’re potty trained). When you set goals for yourself, reach them, and reward yourself accordingly, your brain is going to start associating positive experiences with hard word and hitting goals. This helps you focus less on stress and more on how well you are doing, or how much work you’re getting done. It’s all about perspective, you see. Positive reinforcement is key to a healthy you and a healthy me!

5) Accept defeat. Ok, I KNOW this is like a punch in the throat, and I’m not trying to be Negative Nelly over here, but this is an honest-to-goodness tip, Scouts Honor. When I say, “accept defeat,” I’m not saying toss all your hard work away the moment you hit a wall and all the rainbows and butterflies are gone. I’m saying that if you’ve been struggling with your novel baby for a solid chunk of time (I’m talking months-years here), you’ve lost your passion for it, and you are generally experiencing more anger than joy when it comes to sitting down at your computer and opening up your work, then you might want to consider either 1) setting that WIP aside and focusing on something else, or 2) getting rid of that WIP altogether. Now, keep in mind that this is only for absolutely dire, worst-case-scenario ordeals. But sometimes, it’s good to know when to call a spade a spade and to call it quits. I highly recommend putting a lot of thought into this, as well as making the decision with a clear, objective mind. Because, let’s face it, this is a huge deal, and letting your emotions get in the way might not be the best idea. But sometimes, you’d be amazed at how much lighter you feel after agreeing to drop a story. I’ve done it before, and as sad as it is to say goodbye, the lack of mental stress, guilt, and burden was enough to convince me that I made the right choice.

6) Get support/have a soundboard. A good vent session is a beautiful thing. And it’s even better when it’s not with your fur baby. For me, besides the raging headache I get, I often feel 10x lighter, more energetic, and more balanced after a good sob-fest/yelling session. While the soundboard can essentially be anyone, it helps if they have a writer’s brain like you; they know the struggles you are going through inside and out, and can offer constructive feedback and advice that doesn’t make you want to start throwing out punches like a kung-fu master. But the most important thing is knowing you aren’t alone in these problems. People have gone through EXACTLY what you are going through. They’ve been on the verge of snapping a time or two as well; what you are experiencing is not special, nor is it exclusive to solely you. People are suffering together! Hooray!

7) Journal your progress. Now, I know that sometimes journaling is the last thing people want to do, especially if writing is what they are already doing all day, not to mention if it is writing that is causing them such mental strain. But I find that if I journal my progress, even if it’s a couple sentences here and there, it helps me debrief and vent. This tip is especially handy if you don’t have the best support systems in place, or a soundboard to fall back on. Besides, sometimes we just need to rage-write our hearts out without fear of getting judged, interrupted, and overwhelmed with awful advice. Just as well, I find that journaling also helps me remain focused and on track. I can see how far I’ve come, how much I’ve grown, and I’m reminded that I’m a lot stronger now than I was before. It’s very grounding.

8) Listen to music. Some people prefer to write in silence, and that’s totally fine! However, unless I’m really in The Zone, I find that my thoughts go way faster than my fingers, and in the end, I get too stressed to even function. My subconscious gets the better of me, and in the end, my work, and my mental health, suffers because of it. Therefore, often I turn to music to help keep my mind chatter to a minimum, and to keep my focus sharp. Music is awesome that way; there is a unique type for every sort of mood you are feeling. If you need something relaxing, there’s a playlist for that. If you need hardcore screamo, there’s a playlist for that. If you need orchestral, or lyrical, or dubstep, or chillstep, there is a freaking playlist for that. Music is incredibly influential, and often I find that my mood mirrors whatever I’m listening to. Using music to impact and manipulate your writing is a great way to push past blocks, fears, and crippling doubt. Need a confidence booster? I’ll bet there’s a playlist for that.

9) EAT. Seriously. When was the last time you fed your body? And no, I don’t mean with ichiban noodles, nutrigrain bars, and candy. When was the last time you put ACTUAL food into your belly? AKA protein, nutrients, healthy sugars, and non-lethal doses of sodium? When was the last time you drank something besides coffee and energy drinks? If you honestly can’t remember, stop reading this blog, go and grab a cup of water, and don’t sit back down till you drank it all. I mean it.

10) You are going to hate me for this, but exercise. Notice how I left this as the last tip…because it is honestly the last damn resort, the “worst case scenario”, the Plan Z. I’m not a fan of exercise on the best of days, but sometimes, if you are hitting that writer’s block for the umpteenth time, and the end is nowhere in sight, and your frustration is building so high up that it’s about to cave in on itself, then maybe stepping away from the danger zone and getting fresh air IS actually a good idea. Stop breathing in recycled air, and go out to where the elements are not man-made. Get the blood flowing, the heart pumping, and blast that music so loud that thinking about your book is next to impossible. Give your brain a moment to think about something else. Trust me, it’s not cheating to place your attention elsewhere for a couple seconds.

And there you have it! 10 tips to help you not rip out your hair and ram pencils into your eyeballs. Like I said before, not all these will work for you, nor should they (don’t forget, #5 is only in absolutely dire circumstances). During your writing hours, take time to introduce a couple of these into your schedule, and practice them till you find a groove that works well for you. I know your life is already busy, but trust me, your psyche will thank you in the long run!

With that said, I post new blogs (and vlogs, apparently) every Thursday, and if there is anything you’d like me to discuss, feel free to message me on here, or tweet me @ScarletteStone

Until next time,

Happy Writing!

1 note · View note

thebottomoftheapple · 5 years

Text

The Comeback Kid

HELLO... It’s.Been.AGES.

I owe myself a hugeeee apology for not writing since mid 2017. The Year is now 2019 WOW. Kinda unreal, kinda exciting since welp 2018 was nottttt itttttt. BUT before we go let me recap– as much as I can– of where I left off.

Shortly after my last post (finishing off junior year) I went to Altanta (Suwanne) to stay with Tio Edwin + family WHILE I interned with Resolve Media Group ❤️❤️and it was honestly one of the most amazing yet ordinary taste of adulthood to this day! I first work on the LifeTime movie (Oscar Pistorious) for the first month which was a great learning experience and met some great people. After that, I worked more at Resolve and the amazing Chad, Will, and even Mac. And ofc Jay and Summer! I was an Office PA, Overall Set PA, and Art PA. And honestly though the hours were sometimes unbearably long, I was happy! I was in a grove, I enjoyed getting up and going to working and driving hours through Atlanta traffic everyday. I’m pretty sure I was at my lowest weight at the end of that summer and tan(ish) ugh I miss it a lot. BUT, God willing, I may be back there soon enough, doing what I love! Ahh and after I came back to NY, I went right to another one of my favorite places LONDON💙💙

London and abroad was something else and there’s no way I could write it all down but the best and worst of those memories I’ll never forget. From LIVING in a London flat to seeing my Dad in Barcelona, running away from the Florence police, looking for my phone off the train tracks of Italian campos, trying my first (and still only) gyro in Greece, birthday peeing in the streets of Budapest, living one of my absolute favorite fairytale lives in Amsterdam, and playing house and thinking I found the love of my life off a foreign tindr swipe 😂. Abroad was truly an amazing experience and I can’t wait to (because I definitely will!) go back for more adventures!

I came back to NY at the end of 2017... with a boyfriend lmao. Well at the time I would have been soooo gee and happy, I really thought I was part of that statistic of people who come back from abroad in a long distance relationship lol.... and then eventually go back and live happily ever after. But nope that didn’t happen but absolutely for the best. But i was really happy and you could tell, I just felt lighter and less mentally/emotionally strained like I had been with previous lovers. WHICH!! is so bad because I feel like that means I put too much emphasis on having romantic relationships in my life. But I think the switch was so different because I had been dealing with BS for so long... Nabil treated me better than anyone, spoiled me tbh, but also gave me more attention and affection than anyone had before... definitely the funnest sex lol, humor, music, and real conversation about real things... which also turned out to be the core of why he was definitely not the one aha... But back to emphasizing relationship, that’s really evident now especially because I haven’t dealt with anyone for almost a year but if I’m being honest it’s actually like 6 months (the devil never stops working haha), which is still long for me and honestly I wouldn’t have it any other way because my life right now has no room for any of that–literally. So that’s been fine... that was a secondary concern, ya know a lil heartbreak but a lot of more lessons learned about myself. And now I’m so used to not dealing with anything of that nature all together that it’s definitely not a priority coming into 2019. (OFC I get in my bag sometimes, think about an old ting, but none of that was ever going to be what I wanted it to)

Thank U, Next! lol no but to get into my biggest concerns this past year, has been about me. Specifically my future/career and what steps to take because now I absolutely have control on what’s next. Oh yeah I graduated college btw, which is the reason why I was (am) so lost because it’s not school! I mean it could be, but I really don’t think it’s necessary. That weighed on me heavy throughout the summer because I did eventually get an internship at NowThis Media, which is where I’m still freelancing at now, but I knew that wasn’t what I wanted to be doing long-term. Lmao yet here I am 🤦‍♀️but no honestly it’s not terrible, it’s great experience/for my resume and money is good enough for someone saving and not paying real bills rn (shoutout to my amazing mother 😭). I have a better plan now but things could change maybe if the position/MONEY is right but we’ll see. The plan is to go back to Atlanta, stay with family again, and see if it’s possible to do what I love and make a living out of it and officially move there. And to do that by the summer I need to start planning now but I’m trying to time everything out. SO there’s that.. I’m praying for the best 🙏🙏🙏

Last but not least, ME, mentally, physically, spiritually ME. Honestly coming out of the great year that was 2017 I thought I was on such a great path and I was but things happen aha... it wasn’t until after graduation that I started to get really sad because of of the whole ‘what am I going to do/what’s my calling’ but I thought it was pretty normal because it is for a lot of people. But I underestimated that sadness because it definitely got worse going into the Fall. I mean not 100% unbearable sadness like 2015 💆Thank God. But I had my moments, like just feeling lost and out of place, not enjoying my daily routine (inc. work, social media), car L’s of course 🙄, friendship tribulations, and just unfortunate events that have messed with my spirit and energy.

BUT! definitely some good outcomes... health wise: I joined a gym! and have gone at least 1-4 times a week ever since so that’s really good. An interesting/sus older man once told me to invest in yourself and I def have lol. Started being in control/paying for more ‘big girl things’ you could say. Learned to leave some things alone that needed to be left. Got closer to some of the more important people in my life. Went out a little more I think, which is deb(t)atably a good thing. A lots more reflection, which I think is where I’ve been lacking because I stopped writing and sorta lost a little sense of self. And I think I did embark on the self-love journey and work on my confidence and speaking up but I think I approached that as my main issues. And yes those are some but I believe I overlooked some other character issues. I was too focused on speaking up and being more out there but sometimes that gets me into worse situations. Sure, I need to speak out more but also I need to be more mindful about what I say and also about what and how much I share with people who are honestly not good for me and my inner peace. It’s a hard balance but that is something I’ll be tackling from now on. And learning it’s ok! to remove myself and not explain doing things that are good for me ( but also knowing when to let go of my pride sometimes). It’s all a balance that I have yet to master but I at least I am aware of it now. Following my gut and making sure internally that I’m good will be a good goal for the year.

So I guess I’m into goals now 🤗

- Use social media less, way less! I really think this is the source of some of my lost feeling because of the undeniable idea of comparison and blah blah but yeah I feel like I could be doing much more healthier things like reading again!

- Keep up my gym life, and try to do better when it comes to eating too.

-Really try out this Atlanta thing because it’s honestly very accessible and worth the try especially at 22, this is my time to following my dreams and take risks and be afraid but also be brave because my happiness short-term/long-term actually depends on it!

- The last big thing is really that inner peace thing, trusting my gut, being a better me and not something that isn’t me. Addressing my ‘toxicity’ and flaws to be a happier and healthier spirit.

- Oh and go out less meaning like lituations because honestly clubs, lounges, party functions are really not for me and I’ve accepted that but I think once I get my life together I will easily avoid those situations bc the fomo/desire to be with the people I care for really be putting me in situations I don’t enjoy lmao wasting so much money, when I can be with them and have fun in actually fun events.

- And write more duh!

Okay 🙂I think this post is long enough. A good ‘last time in Kiara’s life’ recap of the last ~18months. This is a good start to getting back to a healthier but even better me. I should also start writing down and keeping track of some of my goals. Hopefully through writing here but regardless still writing because I do believe this is a worthwhile, therapeutic outlet.

SO HERE’S TO 2019 🥂

A prosperous and happy life-changing year! I know big things things are coming. Having patience and facing my fears are really my determining factors of what the year will bring but I know can overcome them.

Until next time, which will be soon I promise!

#to health happiness and love #to a life changing year #to a better ME #we back in this bitch!#1/1/2019

0 notes

woodworkingpastor · 6 years

Text

On Eagle’s Wings Exodus 19:3-7; 20:1-17 October 7, 2018

Opening Prayer

Saving God, you saw your children as slaves in Egypt, and brought them to freedom; you see creation held captive by our desire for more and more, and you weep; and so you pour out your foolish love on us from day to day.

All that we have learned and think we know has not brought meaning to our lives; the brokenness of our world needs your peace; our pain-shattered hearts need your healing: and so you speak to us through your Servant, Jesus.

All the broken of our world long for your wholeness; all who hunger for hope long for the sweetness of your grace and joy; and so you fill us with the Wisdom of your Spirit.

Be present with us in our worship this morning; enable us to respond to your grace with boldness, courage, and creativity. Amen.

Philip Yancey often talks about the faith he was taught as a young boy, a faith that was heavily focused on rules and religious pecking orders. He describes this by saying “At the top [of the list of sins] was smoking and drinking. Movies ranked just below these vices, with many church members refusing even to attend The Sound of Music. Rock music, then in its infancy, was likewise regarded as an abomination, quite possibly demonic in origin.

Other proscriptions—wearing makeup and jewelry, reading the Sunday paper, playing or watching sports on Sunday, mixed swimming, skirt length for girls, hair length for boys—were heeded or not heeded depending on a person’s level of spirituality. I grew up with the strong impression that a person became spiritual by attending to these gray-area rules. For the life of me, I could not figure out much difference between law and grace” (What’s so amazing about grace, 30).

He goes on to quote Mark Twain, who sometimes described people who were “good in the worst sense of the word.” Yancey talks about conversations with strangers where he asks them to describe Christians. In all his years of asking people about this, never once has he heard someone say “people who are filled with grace.”

Stop and think about that for a minute. How could this be? For all of the hospitals and orphanages and leprosariums and disaster response and (in Roanoke) teacher’s aides and backpack meals that basic Christian compassion have been responsible for, how is it that Christians are better known for judgment and rules than about grace?

Our Scripture texts today remind us of the balance between law and grace; these texts come out of God’s particular involvement with people. Moses is on the mountain with God so that the relationship between God and the Hebrew people can be made official, if you will. Our Bible reading for last week brought us through the description of what came before. And among the stories of Moses’ call and all of the plagues and the ultimate escape from Egypt, maybe you noticed the constant refrain that the people were brought into the wilderness to worship God. We might think the point of this was to sacrifice a lot of animals, or spend time singing, or sharing litanies, or praying. Fundamentally, worship is more than this. Worship is a public declaration of what we believe has ultimate importance. Worship is not only about the songs we sing and the words we say; these are a means to an end. Worship is about relationship and commitment, call and response, sacrifice and blessing.

Which makes it fascinating to me that the compilers of the Narrative Lectionary had the wisdom to pair these two passages, Exodus 19 and 20. How many times in recent years has there been some kind of public controversy over the display of the 10 Commandments in public places? In terms of our relationship with God, what happens in Exodus 19 is more important than the 10 Commandments of Exodus 20, because Exodus 19 tells us that what ought to be on display in public is our transformed lives.

God establishes a relationship with these people based on three significant points:

The first is an act of grace: I bore you on eagles’ wings. When God found the people, they were fundamentally broken. If you keep that in mind as you read about their travels described in Exodus, their whining and complaining and rebelling starts to make sense. A friend of mine adopted a child out of foster care; this child is a testament to how quickly parental dysfunction can damage a child. This young boy has numerous behavior issues based on the things that happened to him in the womb, and in the first six to nine months of his life. He continually acts out of this brokenness. Every parental response that my friends take toward their child is an act of grace. It’s hard work. But it is grace.

The thing we are inclined to forget is that this is how we came to faith: not as whole people, but as broken people. We like to think we can pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps, but it is a lie. We are each broken people, and our brokenness impacts our relationships with one another in so many ways. We try to hold it all together and put on a good show and hide our brokenness behind a mask, or a neatly manicured lawn and brightly painted front door. Being exposed is the worst thing that could happen to us.

In times when our brokenness gets in the way of our grace, I wish we viewed the church in the same way that sick persons viewed a trip to the doctor’s office: that the church would be the first place we turn to find forgiveness and acceptance.

Of course, it turns out that sometimes people will choose to be sick because it seems better than what they fear will happen if they go to the doctor. Some of you know Emily Shonk Edwards. She’s a medical doctor, and I asked her this week about the reasons people give for not coming to the doctor when they know something is wrong. Here’s what she said:

Don’t have health insurance.

Work in jobs where they don’t have time off to take for appointments.

The doctor won’t listen to me.

Too busy taking care of other people.

Want to believe that they are healthy and the doctor will discover they are not.

Afraid that they will be given bad news.

Afraid of being sent to the hospital.

Afraid that their independence will be compromised.

It’s interesting to notice how many of these reflect on the fact that a cruelty of being broken is that we become fearful of the thing that can bring healing. But this need not be an obstacle in our relationship with God. Our brokenness is not the defining issue.

There second are some expectations in this relationship. If you obey my voice… Grace is the foundation of this relationship. Law would come, because in our brokenness we need some boundaries. The 10 commandments are important, they’re just not the only important thing. No one thinks it’s cruel to tell a young child to keep some distance from a fireplace or the street in front of their house. Boundaries give us more freedom than we often admit.

This expectation would prove to be a huge problem for the people. By the time we’ve read through to the end of the Old Testament and heard the words of the prophets (which we’ll get to later this Fall) we will see that the prophetic critique of the people was that they had not stayed within the boundaries; they had not extended to others the same grace that God had extended to them.

In the Old Testament we see the seriousness of this described in “blessings and curses” passages, like one we see in Exodus 20:4-6:

“You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I the LORD your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments.”

It is interesting to note how quickly we see the harshness of God in the passages about judgement. Some rabbis did the math on this verse, noting that while God’s punishment might extend to the fourth generation, God’s love would extend to the thousandth generation. They calculated that God’s love was 250x stronger than God’s anger.

Who of us could say that about ourselves? I wonder how many times I’ve heard some express—either in fear or in jest—that God would zap them with a lightening bolt for a misdeed? I feel certain I’ve heard that more frequently than God would pursue them and love them so much they’d never want to leave again.

But if all this isn’t enough, we come to the third point: You shall be for me a priestly kingdom and a holy nation.

Grace and law; acceptance and boundaries have a purpose. Think about this. These people will be a priestly kingdom—it means they will be for other people what God was for them—the means to a right relationship with God. That’s a big idea. Let that sink in for a bit. Think about when this story fits on a timeline: it was the third new moon after they left Egypt. Three months ago. Think about what you were doing on July 7 and how much (or probably how little) has changed in your life since then. Three months was all it took for God to say to them: “You will be the people through whom I will bless the world.” Think about who they are. Think about how little they know about God. People attend church for years and don’t feel they are capable of serving God. Clearly, our abilities aren’t what God is interested in. Our availability is what matters, because this isn’t a relationship based solely on how we perform; it is a relationship based on grace.

We don’t need to live in fear of God or fear of our past or fear of what we can’t do. We just need to come.

In his book The Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning includes a story of former New York City mayor Fiorello LaGuardia. Odds are that this story is not true. But the story remains instructive as an illustration of grace:

In the middle of the Great Depression, New York City mayor Fiorello LaGuardia strived to live with the people. It was not unusual for him to ride with the firefighters, raid with the police, or take field trips with orphans. On a bitterly cold night in January of 1935, the mayor turned up at a night court that served the poorest ward of the city. LaGuardia dismissed the judge for the evening and took over the bench himself. Within a few minutes, a tattered old woman was brought before him, charged with stealing a loaf of bread. She told the mayor that her daughter’s husband had left, her daughter was sick, and her two grandchildren were starving. However, the shopkeeper, from whom the bread was stolen, refused to drop the charges. “It’s a real bad neighborhood, your Honor,” the man told the mayor. “She’s got to be punished to teach other people around here a lesson.”

LaGuardia sighed. He turned to the woman and said, “I’ve got to punish you. The law makes no exceptions. Ten dollars or ten days in jail.” But even as he pronounced sentence, the mayor was already reaching into his pocket. He extracted a bill and tossed it into his famous hat, saying, “Here is the ten dollar fine which I now remit; and furthermore I am going to fine everyone in this courtroom fifty cents for living in a town where a person has to steal bread so that her grandchildren can eat. Mr. Baliff, collect the fines and give them to the defendant.”

The following day, New York City newspapers reported that $47.50 was turned over to a bewildered woman who had stolen a loaf of bread to feed her starving grandchildren. Fifty cents of that amount was contributed by the grocery store owner himself, while some seventy petty criminals, people with traffic violations, and New York City policemen, each of whom had just paid fifty cents for the privilege of doing so, gave the mayor a standing ovation.

0 notes

thirteenthanda · 6 years

Text

18 Fitness Tips from Joe Holder, Trainer to Some of the Biggest Names In Streetwear

Running the streetwear game takes stamina: Virgil Abloh, Heron Preston and Eugene Tong get theirs from Joe Holder, who helped Tong complete the New York marathon this month.

“It’s crazy that I’ve gotten to work with and befriend them,” says Holder, a New York- and plant-based performance specialist and health consultant. “Virgil came to know me through Heron, and Eugene through Dao-Yi [Chow of Public School] and Nike.” (Holder became an official swoosh trainer after he was scouted while teaching a class at S10, the gym that he trains out of, and has appeared in Nike ads and commercials.)

It helps that Holder is not only sincerely interested in streetwear but also in his clients as people rather than pay cheques, keeping tabs on their wellbeing and providing support even if they don’t have time to make it to the gym. “The way I think about performance is different to many in the industry and I believe that resonates with them,” he adds. “Plus, creative capacities go hand in hand with sport so we just happen to mesh.”

Holder did football, basketball and track and field growing up, eventually settling on football at the University of Pennsylvania where he studied sociology, psychology and marketing. But injuries and stress laid him low. “I was depressed,” he admits. After forgetting his dad’s birthday, Holder tore up his mental playbook and created the Ocho System: a holistic philosophy that promotes productivity and physical progress while bridging “the behavioral and cognitive gap” that causes people to fall short of their goals.

Below, Holder explains in his own words how to balance the want to improve with the need to be happy, high achievement with downtime, and going hard with going home.

“Penn face” is a thing: where you maintain a happy exterior while struggling on the inside. After dealing with my own issues, I soon realized that so many of my peers had similar problems. No one told me that I was a good player: I was only told how much better I could be, without anyone letting me know what I was good at for the moment. Granted, athletes don’t deserve to be coddled. But there are moments where positive reinforcement is needed.

Remove the negative emotive response that can be a result of introspection. Review yourself as a stranger and objectively – but not harshly – reflect on the things that you need to improve. Now you have two data sets: one that allows you to be happy and content with your current situation but another that you can create goals from.

I make sure that my own social media accounts exude honesty and show my own difficulties. Hopefully I can then inspire. In terms of my clients, I want them to practice periods of time in their day where they remove themselves from social media. Understand the veneer that is associated with it and don’t take everything literally.

Football beat me up, so strength training for me is now about “structural insurance” and injury prevention. I’m not big into heavy lifting because I experienced enough of that in college, but I incorporate micro-cycles of it into my training. I’m hugely into conditioning though: I think that it’s a way to create kind of a metabolic resistance adaptation without needing to incorporate Olympic lifts where form can get sloppy.

Warm up with five rounds of 40-yard prowler pushes and one minute of jump rope. Next, do five rounds of 10 pull-ups, 10 hex-bar deadlifts and 30 seconds on the battle ropes, followed by five rounds of 10 weighted push-ups, 10 dumbbell lateral lunges and 20 seconds on the assault bike. Then a mobility cooldown.

I’m busier these days so it’s hard to fit in my own training. People have the misconception that I’m working out all the time but I’m not a class instructor, more of a coach, so I don’t work out with my clients and I have to find time when it would be easy to just chalk a skipped session up to fatigue. But I try the best that I can to stay active. A typical week of training for me might be three sessions of lifting or conditioning, two to four runs, one session of yoga and one session of Pilates.

If more men “worked out like women” and vice versa, we’d all meet our goals faster. I think that spatial awareness and mobility are two attributes that can always be improved; yoga and Pilates help me with this.

Gains come from recovery. When I’m really on it, I get a massage and do a recovery session once a week. Life is an added stressor so any way that I can enhance recovery is important. Saunas and ice baths also get me used to being uncomfortable and kind of reckoning with what I have on my mind. Sometimes I’ll sit in a sauna for a couple hours and just meditate and have these creative breakthroughs. It’s special when it happens.

As an athlete, you look to impose stress in a beneficial way to create an adaption with the minimal effective dosage required. Many of these trendy high-intensity fitness classes provide an outlet – which is important – but mask the stressors that people need to address in their life. I won’t say avoid it altogether, but recognise the impact that it’s having on your body, and shift your focus to performance and general optimisation. Recovery, nutrition and lower-intensity sessions are all part of that.

One of my favorite yoga sutras basically states that you’re only selfish in the pursuit of selflessness. You have to take the time to “refill your cup” because others will not do that for you, and also set aside time to do the important, reflective work. That will then allow you to be of better assistance to those that are asking for your time.

I started cutting out meat in college, not really on purpose, but just because I wanted to incorporate more nutrient-dense foods into my diet. I approach food from a perspective of inclusion and not exclusion. Breakfast is a smoothie with plant protein powder, BCAAs, berries, ashwaganda, spirulina and dandelion greens. My mid-morning snack is nuts or fruit. Lunch is a breakfast bowl from Jack’s Wife Freda. In the afternoon, another smoothie. Then dinner is a salad or greens with root veggies and beans.

Most people conceptualize diet in an unhealthy manner that makes it difficult to be successful. You really shouldn’t diet to earn a reward or avoid a punishment. That’s an odd way of thinking about it. The first step is reframing diet from “a diet”. Then I try to get deeper into the underlying reasons behind why someone wants to change their eating habits. From there, you can typically stay on track a bit better.

I have an odd habit of setting my alarm early and waking up to ruminate on any issues that I need to hit that day. I then go back to sleep; when I wake up again, I meditate for about 10 minutes. My day is so at the whim of other people’s schedules that if my morning is not on my own terms then the day will be a wash. Also, a smoothie. Without that, it’s dead.

On my workout playlist is a lot of the “Rap Caviar” from Spotify and classic Lil Wayne tracks. I’m not the type of guy to listen to a podcast or eBook while I’m training. Outside of the gym, my head is probably buried in a book or some random study.

My go-to gym outfit is all-Nike gear, of course. I’m not a big Metcon fan but I typically train in the DSX version. I like to work out in sweatpants and a hoody and then the shirt is probably coming off… Outside of the gym, I’m probably still in workout gear or some kind of streetwear: NikeLab, Off-White, Heron Preston, Public School, Felt-type stuff. I’m minimalist in what I wear — it reduces mental fatigue for me. But I have way too many sneakers. That’s my clothing vice.

I don’t have a problem with fitness being fashionable. What I do fear is the “chic” aspect of it taking away from the underlying fact that we have a public health crisis on our hands and the underserved communities who need access to fitness the most may not be getting it. I’m all for fitness being fashionable but let’s not make it inaccessible.

I remember having dinner with Virgil in Milan and picking his brain.To him, stagnation is the cousin of death. He’s constantly connecting, constantly working. It’s amazing to see, and why I look up to him. Busy people like him just want things to work efficiently. So I would say find times of stillness when you can reflect, but also incorporate increased activity into your daily life when you can. And eat well: it’ll allow you to keep up the frenetic pace.

Embrace the chaos. People will always tell you that you need to relax, but if you can manage the stress of the lifestyle then by all means keep going.

By Jamie Millar

0 notes

blog-sliverofjade · 4 years

Text

Hearth Fires 9: Hunger

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary: Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Word count: 2131

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the divine pandabearer

RainFire Leopards: Who doesn’t love a lone wolf leopard? Now imagine an entire pack of them. What alpha is tough and crazy enough to herd these strong-willed roaming cats? Meet Remi Denier. Don’t let the lazy charm and Cajun drawl fool you or he’ll chew you up and spit you out.

Unless that’s what you’re into. We don’t judge.

-From the “Pack Cheat Guide” in the March 2082 issue of Wild Women magazine: “Skin Privileges, Style, and Primal Sophistication”

A massive fist slammed into Remi’s side, forcing air from his left lung. It wasn’t full force otherwise he’d be dealing with bruised ribs for a couple of days, but it wasn’t a love tap, either. Anything less would have been an insult to his strength.

Twisting, he brought his knee up and grabbed for Theo’s shoulders to bring him down into the strike. His hands slipped off shoulders slippery with sweat as the sentinel stepped back. The other leopard’s chest heaved, nearly matching the pace of his own panting. They’d been going at it long enough that they were both dripping.

“Again,” snarled Remi.

He needed to burn off the tension that’d been riding him since Chloe called him. Theo was big, taller than Remi, although not quite as widely built as the alpha. The sentinel used his quiet intelligence and surprising speed to lethal advantage, which meant he was the only one who could hold his own against the RainFire alpha for any length of time.

The sentinel shook his head and reached for a towel draped over a low hanging branch. Scrubbing it over his face, he left it to drape around his neck and scooped up two water bottles nestled in the coiled roots of the same tree. Remi caught the one tossed his way; the bio-plas crunched in his grip and water spilled onto his hand.

When he first met Lorel, he thought his cat wanted her as a potential packmate, but remained quiet so as not to spook her. That was nothing new. The animal knew no skittish submissive could handle the full force of a strange alpha who’d been baptized in blood.

Today, the smell of her fear tinged with a strange note had set his leopard into a hunting crouch, ready to rip out Shaw’s throat. She didn’t smell quite right, not wrong, but not quite like the cat she was. It wasn’t until he was behind the wheel again that his cat told him what that element was: she was on the verge of losing her humanity.

The protectiveness most predatory dominant changelings felt was magnified in him, something he had to carefully mitigate; changelings needed freedom to grow and thrive. When Jojo had reacted to Lorel, he’d carefully sifted through the sugar and spice layers of her scent and found nothing troubling.

Had he been ignoring possible warning signs because he wanted to play with the feral kitten? It was far too early to have allowed her that deeply into their territory, and he’d only conceded to the harebrained idea because he wanted to see if others in the pack reacted as favourably to her as he did. But there was no going back now. If he couldn’t drag her back from the edge, then he’d have to take her out as a last resort. He wasn’t ready to give up on her.

Unfortunately, being alpha meant that he had to put the pack’s needs above his own.

“You need to do something about that touch hunger,” Theo said when he came up for air, screwing the top back on his empty bottle.

“Don’t go there.” Pure alpha poured into every word.

“Your tension’s starting to affect the juvenile males.”

“Feet pue tan!” he cursed and punched a tree trunk. The rough bark split his knuckles and scented the air with blood. His sexual hunger was a constant pulse underneath his skin; it had to be driving the younger males crazy. When there were too many unmated dominants, that much unchanneled sexual energy tended to explode into violence that could tear a pack apart.

The only problem was the only one he wanted to sate his touch hunger with was an ocelot who’d rather hiss and claw at him than permit him skin privileges of any kind. Rather than being a deterrent, that was like catnip for predatory dominants.

He didn’t know why he cared so much about one female. She wasn’t pack, didn’t want to be, and was more trouble than she was worth. She refused to behave like any sane submissive faced with a predatory alpha, and she challenged him in ways women rarely did. She didn’t even recognize the favour he gave her by giving her protection, instead, she took it as a mortal insult like a female sentinel would!

“That’s what you get for headhunting loners.” Dropping out of a maple across the clearing, Elijah landed in a crouch before rising to his feet, shaking back his ridiculous mane of chocolate brown hair with a high, full undercut.

“You’re improving, I only heard you five minutes ago instead of ten.” Remi shook the painful numb tingling out of his hand. He was just yanking Elijah’s chain; no one made it to senior soldier without the ability to silently stalk their prey, no matter what form they were in.

“You know, Theo, if you mated, it’d help keep the balance.” Strong ties between men and women, either long-term relationships or those lucky enough to have mated, at the top of hierarchy stabilized the pack.,

“We’re talking about your sex life, or lack thereof, not ours. And, for the record, I am good on that front.” Elijah held up his hands, palms out.

“My sex life is not up for discussion,” scowled Remi.

A long low whistle. The two sentinels shared a look.

“That is one serious case of blue balls.” Dark brows climbed up Elijah’s forehead to disappear under the shaggy hair that draped over his forehead. Theo nodded in agreement.

“Stop talking about my balls and go play with your own.” Claws erupted from his fingertips. A severe overreaction for some teasing from packmates who were trying to keep him from going over the edge like he was right now.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he took a minute to get himself back under control. Theo and Elijah were very obviously not looking at each other, or him, for that matter. If they had, he might well have interpreted it as a dominance challenge with the state he was currently in.

Sometimes alphas did go bad. Within the span of four years, his own father destroyed what was once a solid, healthy pack. While very few of the sentinels could take Remi one on one, some of them were damn good snipers.

Not even an alpha could dodge a bullet they couldn’t see.

Lorel lay awake, staring at the ceiling, bone-weary and yet sleep eluded her. Her skin prickled and burned like a terrible sunburn, which she’d had enough of to know the sensation well, but she hadn’t been out in the sun long enough to burn. Her mind kept replaying the events of that afternoon on loop until her blood boiled and her fingertips tingled, the latter was one of the first signs of an involuntary shift.

The bedroom was larger than any of the ones in her various apartments had been, but the walls were too close, too confining. Slipping on a floral satin robe, she padded to the living room to look out the picture window.

Turning to pace back across the room, she paused facing the back door. Through that door and thirty meters away, the treeline began. The mountains began about three miles into the forest. She should be fine as long as she stayed to the lower elevations. Just because they claimed the whole county as part of their jurisdiction, their pack lands were further into the woods.

The thought of remaining in the house one second longer had her wanting to climb the walls. She felt caged as it was, her ocelot would go insane if trapped inside one second longer; it had spent enough years stuck inside the trappings of civilization.

But she didn’t have to remain confined within four walls anymore. There was an entire mountain to explore full of trees and rabbits and squirrels. As long as she remained on this side of the mountain, she was fine.

Shaking her head to dislodge the dangerous thought, she continued to pace. Her cat yowled inside its cage, protesting the close environs.

Living on her own at the edge of the woods, free to shift whenever she chose, was like being stuck in a free-fall with no idea when she was going to become a greasy smear on the pavement. What if the rabbits and squirrels she could hunt weren’t enough to keep her ocelot happy? One day she might sink into the madness permanently, her rational side and everything that made her human disintegrating.

In forums and magazines, other changelings talked about being in balance, never struggling for control. She knew that wasn’t true for everyone. It wasn’t true for her. It wasn’t true for her father.

And yet there was risk if they went long enough without shifting. Changelings who needed water to shift and couldn’t get to it in time could die. The last time she’d shifted was the week she’d moved to Bryson City two months ago. The beast slashed at the inside of her mind, demanding freedom, trying to break through the human shell. She’d learned to ignore the suffocating need to shift, but now she couldn’t breathe it was so strong. The blinding pain settled the issue for her.

The robe glided to the floor in a whisper of sound, leaving her nude in the hallway. She hated pajamas, she twisted and turned too much in her sleep until she woke tangled and choked in soft fabric. The sense of confinement was something she’d had to put up with until she’d moved out on her own. Her aunt, a self-proclaimed part-time nudist, didn’t care as long as she “put a towel down” if she was running around in her birthday suit.

Shivering in the chill night air, feet curling away from the damp floorboards of the porch, she shut the door behind her.

After holding onto control for so long, letting go of it was harder than maintaining it. The shift was supposed to be instantaneous, but it usually took her a minute and it didn’t happen all at once.

It was like her senses exploded from the inundation of input that threatened to overwhelm. The woman reached for control out of habit. The smell of blood, sharp and delicious, scented the air. Dominance over her own body slipped through her fingers and she dissolved into a million particles of shattering light

Changelings often spoke of the shift as ecstasy and agony, but for her it was mostly the latter.

She stretched, tail high, back bowed, and front paws flashing claws as she kneaded the grass then reached out to flex her claws on a tree, marking her home. The human’s protests were buried under the instincts of the cat.

Something tight and cramped unfurled in her chest, aching with sweet pain as it stretched for the first time in years. Ecstatic clarity that made her want to bound through the trees.

Heart singing in her chest, she sucked in great lungfuls of air. Woods flew by in a shadowed blur. Paws landing solidly, whiskers fluttering in the breeze. Brain switched off as she ran.

The close proximity of houses and the overwhelming plethora of scents that came from being inside the city limits was nothing new to the cat, only there was no stink that came with larger cities. She’d always taken care to keep to her home before, but the wall of trees just beyond the yard called to her.

The ground was springy with vegetable debris under her paws as she bounded through the trees. Cold air swept through her nose and wind ghosted through her fur. The sound of prey scurrying through the underbrush drew her deeper into the woods.

Muscles bunching and she pounced. Fur and flesh parted under sharp teeth. The worries of the woman no longer existed. Only blood and feeding the dark hunger that gripped her mattered.

Rodents, birds, lizards all fell under flashing claws and teeth. The cat could eat no more, yet still it hunted, leaving a trail of small bodies in its wake.

Eventually, the exhaustion weighing down her limbs overcame the need to kill. Curling up nose to tail in a hollow underneath a fallen tree trunk, she settled in to sleep.

2 notes · View notes

100wordanime · 7 years

Text

Overview:

In the near future a virus called Gastrea that can turn humans into monsters has broken out. Highly contagious, and very feared, war breaks out but very few survive. Those who do, live in regions surrounded by massive monoliths made of a material called Varanium which repels/hurts the Gastrea. To fight the gastrea, partners made up of a promoter (human) and an initator (one of the female cursed children who contain the Gastrea virus but have a slow rate of infection) fight as civil servants to defend the growing threat to what remains of Tokyo.

Review – This one is going to be spoiler heavy:

I watched Black Bullet once, a few years ago (probably just after it finished airing or sometime around then) and I remember not having liked it very much. Recently I stumbled upon this series on Crunchyroll and tried to remember what my problem with the series was and I drew a blank. Actually, I drew a blank on more or less everything to do with this anime other than the fact that the title didn’t really make a lot of sense. Sure, main character Rentarou does use a gun occasionally, and yes, his bullets are made of varanium which is black, but as he tends to punch or kick things as often as shoot them and the gun has no significance to the story, I’m still totally lost on why the show is called Black Bullet.

Yes, he is a villain. Can’t you tell?

What I realised while rewatching this was that sitting underneath all the things that either annoyed me or made me feel a little disconnected from the events, is actually a pretty intense story full of rich emotion and great (if slightly obvious) questions about humanity as a whole. Unfortunately, the anime seems determined to help you overlook all of its positives in exchange for the generic and the lame and the balance between the two isn’t great.

Kisara is the best character to exemplify what I mean by this. Going heavily into spoiler territory.

For most of the series I was wondering why Kisara even existed (having forgotten how the story ended her character seemed entirely superfluous and mostly I’d written her off as the character who would probably die right before the final battle – I know now why that wouldn’t have worked but possibly the story should have done a bit more with her earlier). Anyway, Kisara’s role is completely ill-defined and as a result she’s either absent for extended periods early on (to the point where you forget who se is) or she’s shifting into whichever anime trope they’d currently like her to portray.

Basically, she’s Rentarou’s boss. Though other than one scene early on where she’s telling him off and another later on where she essentially orders him to let her work underneath him (that makes sense) you almost always forget that she ‘runs’ the company. Mostly because the company makes no sense. Why do civil servants need a private company when essentially they get hired more or less directly by the leader of the city anyway? Cut out of the middle man, or lady, so to speak and nothing would have changed.

And it is this absence of any meaningful role that hurts Kisara. As the story goes on you learn that she feel indebted to Rentarou because when her parents died he was horribly injured… tragic back story, childhood promises, angsty teens, got it.

At one point the story sends an assassin after her, because why not? I’m guessing technically they did that because Rentarou was protecting the target but why not send the assassin after the actually civil servant rather than the civil servant’s boss? For a few moments, Kisara gets to show off her cool sword skills that we’ve seen her practice but never use and then somehow, right before Rentarou shows up, she gets to fall and become helpless. Then, a few moments later, she gets to ‘save’ Rentarou before collapsing into his arms all frail and helpless again. Pick a side already. Are you strong and fiery or are you the damsel?

Another point in the series has both Kisara and Rentarou begin teaching at an open air school for the cursed children. They all fall in love for Rentarou (another issue with the show I’m going to get back to later) but Kisara mostly just stands at the front and occasionally interjects a comment. Her presence there would have been completely unmissed if they’d just not drawn her. When the school and all the students are blown up, Rentarou is the one who walks in on the police doing the clean up because Kisara slept in. Rentarou is the one who identifies the bodies and mourns at the hospital before having to deal with Enju (his partner and also a cursed child) as she discovers what has happened and mourns. All Kisara does is wait for him to come back. She taught at the school too, so why doesn’t she get any of these moments?

By the time we get to the end, there’s so many other things happening that Kisara becomes a point that you just kind of toss to the side, which is kind of a mistake given where they take her character in the final episode. If Kisara had been introduced in episode 8 or 9 (as a lot of other characters were) and had taken that character arc to episode 13, it could have been brilliant. From trained fighter but inexperienced in actual combat and starting out with a new partner under someone uncertain of his own command, heart burning with revenge for a previous wrong that was linked to the current wrong, to the character who coldly executes her revenge without another thought and clearly understands that she’s drawn a line between herself and Rentarou, it is an excellent character arc. But you don’t get to enjoy that arc because of all the other rubbish that this character has been put through prior to them using her for anything of value.

Spoilers continuing.

As I said before that extended ramble, it kind of exemplifies everything I loved and found problematic with this show in one character. Black Bullet has some truly heart wrenching moments and some really interesting moral conundrums to throw at the characters and the audience. It has moments of poignancy that just hit home hard. The final scene with Enju and Rentarou on the train where Rentarou finally lets everything that has happened over the past few days hit him and he breaks down weeping, head buried in Enju’s lap, is the perfect final note for these two characters after everything they’ve gone through. When the show plays the drama and emotion of the scene it gets it right and it does this enough throughout the series that you can’t just dismiss this as frivolous. Yet, it can’t commit to those moments either.

Rentarou could have been a truly interesting protagonist but he is plagued by the every single cursed child falling in love with him syndrome and self-aware harem and pervert jokes being thrown at him by all of the older women in his life (boss, patron, doctor who saved his life and now… hangs around). The relationship Rentarou is forging throughout the series with Enju is touching and heartwarming but when he plays the same big brother character to Tina and the blind girl and everyone else and they just sign up for the ‘I love Rentarou’ club it kind of buries some of the better Enju and Rentarou moments.

Enju’s insistence that Rentarou is going to marry her isn’t as irritating as it might be in other shows where an overpowered little sister character makes such a declaration. In this, it is heart breaking. You know Enju doesn’t have the time and any dreams she has of growing up are just that, dreams. They will never be fulfilled so Rentarou has no need to puncture that ideal of hers, but you can see it twists a knife into his heart every time she says it.

There’s a moment fairly early in the series where Enju has been to the doctor and they’ve checked her ‘corrosion’ level. Essentially once it hits 50% Enju is going to be killed because otherwise she’s going to turn into a Gastrea. Rentarou lies to her and tells Enju her level is somewhere in the 20’s when in fact she’s in the 40’s. Enju’s time is really close. That’s dramatic and you can see the look on Rentarou’s face as he lies and then in case you didn’t get it, he looks deliberately at the charm she gave him which was meant to break if he didn’t tell the truth and he’s removed it prior to speaking to her. It’s a great moment. That never, ever gets revisited. Enju’s corrosion level never comes up again in the entire series.

One final issue I had with this before I get on with recommending why you should watch this show anyway despite the fact that I did just spoil most of it, and that is Takuto. I get that in all of these types of stories there’s that one idiot who is out for his own agenda and has it in for the ‘hero’ to the point where he’ll do something stupid. But there’s a time and a place for stupidity. This guy takes it to a new extreme and what really bothers me about this is he doesn’t do it alone. A whole group of soldiers help him sabotage the only line of defence the city has in that final battle. What were they thinking? Even if someone successfully argued that Takuto was just mental, what about the others who contributed to this scheme? If the line falls, all of you are going to die. Did that not somehow sink in? Anyway, Takuto gets the award for an act that is just too stupid for words and that is in a series where one of the earlier antagonists ends up just joining in the final battle because, why not.

So, yes, Black Bullet has its issues (not the least of which is a title that keeps making me type Black Butler and then having to correct). There’s a ridiculous harem set up, there’s overly cutesy moments thrown in to what is otherwise a fairly grim tale, there’s boob grabs, and totally unnecessary rivalries, and there’s some obviously stupid decision making along the way. Countering all of that though are some truly touching moments, some scenes that know exactly what they are doing, a lot of moral gray areas for our characters to walk, and fight sequences that are pretty good. There’s also a lot of violence and gushy purple/blue liquid usually stained by blood.

There’s no problem when a show tries to mix drama and comedy. Many shows manage to successfully add levity to fairly heavy plots in order to not depress the audience entirely. The issue with this show is it never finds the right balance and you are never quite sure if this was ever supposed to be a serious drama (though the ending kind of leaves no room for doubt that this situation was dark and the cost of survival is high). But that means that for a lot of the run time you are switching between cute girls doing cute things, cute girls killing things, two teenagers out for revenge/justice/money, a whole bunch of other characters with similarly ill-defined motives, and then some monster bug things thrown in just to stir things up. All and all, it is just a little bit messy.

For my second watch I had a lot of fun with this though I honestly don’t see me going for a third watch. Providing of course I remember it this time.

Are you a fan of 100WordAnime.blog?

If you like this site and you like what I do, consider becoming a patron.

Thanks,

Karandi James.

Black Bullet Series Review - This could have been great, maybe. Overview: In the near future a virus called Gastrea that can turn humans into monsters has broken out.

#anime #Black Bullet #cursed children #fantasy #post-apocolyptic #Rentarou #review #science fiction #series

0 notes