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kikis-writing-world · 3 years

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Love is Blind

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader (her hair is described in that it is long enough to braid, and it is brushed by another character. Sorry if that alienates anyone)

Word Count: 8.4k

Rating/Warnings: Mentions of dead bodies and glossing over of canon-typical violence, injury leading to temporary blindness, talks of medical procedures (vague descriptions cause idk what I’m doing,) mentions of pregnancy (Whiskey talks about his dead wife) If I missed anything please let me know. It’s a long one and I tried to mark down anything that might need warning.

Summary: The mission was going perfectly until you were caught by a stupid trap, spraying some kind of toxin in your face. Now you’re (temporarily?) blinded and have to find out what that means for your future with Statesman.

The dust settled over the room as the chaos gave way to silence. You waited a beat, taking a deep breath before speaking out.

“Clear.” You spoke softly, knowing the message would be transmitted to your partner. Despite your confidence that you’d taken out the men on your side of the room, you kept your pistol firmly in your grasp.

“Clear.” The response came through your ear piece, the voice tinny in your ear. The bass tones were missing, but it was unmistakably Agent Whiskey’s southern drawl. You stood from your cover behind a large, leather sofa and surveyed the mess. Whiskey was standing behind the bar in the corner of the room doing the same.

“Nice work.” You nodded at him, noticing several bodies elegantly cleaved in half from his lasso.

“Same to you, ‘Rhett.” Whiskey returned the compliment, stepping around the bar. You glared at him for shortening your name - he knew you hated that - but you were stopped from responding as a third voice joined the conversation through your earpieces. “Intel puts the plates in a safe behind the painting. The landscape behind the desk” Ginger’s voice instructed from HQ, watching the scene through the micro-cameras you were both wearing: Whiskey’s in his bolo tie and yours on a broach on your vest.

You and Whiskey both turned to look at the large painting on the far side of the room. It, and the desk it sat behind, were riddled with bullet holes and other damage from the fray. It was still hanging askew on the wall. You crossed the room easily, stepping over the various bodies on the way. Whiskey let you take the lead, keeping a watch while you turned your back to the room.

The painting fell with a nudge from the barrel of your gun, revealing the safe tucked into the wall. A 10 digit keypad with a small screen kept it locked. You leaned in, making sure your broach was pointed at it. “Ginger?”

“Got it Amaretto. Analyzing.” You could picture the woman typing away, executing different commands as she analyzed the image you broadcast back to her computer. You knew she was using possible heat signatures, wear on the numbers, oil deposits, not to mention the tech you didn’t understand to crack the code. You could hear Whiskey shifting around the room behind you as you waited.

“7298,” Ginger instructed. You entered the code and the lock clicked, the door swinging ajar.

“Thanks, Ging.” You acknowledged before addressing Whiskey. “We’re in.”

“And?” He asked, looking over his shoulder at you, but keeping himself angled out into the room in case of trouble.

You pushed the safe’s door the rest of the way open seeing a large, black briefcase inside. If the intel was right, inside it would be counterfeiting plates. A small time counterfeiting ring had somehow paired up with a large terrorist ring, laundering the fake money into real profit to fund their plans. Taking down this ring would be a big, although likely temporary, hit to the terrorists.

You pulled the briefcase out of the safe, setting it onto the desk. There were no locks on the briefcase, just the latches keeping it closed. While that should have been suspicious, your excitement of completing the mission had you pushing forward. You unlatched and opened the lid.

Before you could see what was inside, something shot out of the case. You were sprayed in the face and neck with a cool, goopy liquid. You yelped in surprise, wiping frantically at your face to get it off. You stumbled backwards into the wall, falling onto your ass.

You heard Whiskey call for you the same time Ginger did through the earpiece. Whiskey was beside you quickly, pulling your hands away from your face by the wrists. “What happened?”

“I-I don’t know.” You stuttered, feeling him wiping at your face and hands with some fabric. “I opened the case and it shot out at me.”

“Ginger?” Whiskey called out.

“I’m checking the footage now, running it through our databases.” The tech responded, voice level as always. “Keep a sample, but find some water to get it off her. I’m sure it’s some kind of safety measure.”

“Stay here.” Whiskey ordered before he left your side.

You nodded, trying to remain calm as the substance started to sting your eyes. You relayed that information back to Ginger.

“What else can you tell me about it, Amaretto?” She asked.

“It’s viscous. Like syrup.” You told her, feeling the slimy coating it still left on your skin after Whiskey had tried to wipe it away. “Cool to the touch. Smells like… flowers? Definitely floral.”

“Okay. That’s good. That’s helpful. Anything else, let me know. It will help us identify it quicker.”

Whiskey returned as Ginger spoke. You jumped at his sudden presence beside you.

“Sorry.” He mumbled. “Got the water and a cloth.” He narrated as to not spook you when the wet rag touched your skin.

“Flush out her eyes and get out of there.” Ginger instructed as your partner wiped your face clean. The cloth disappeared and Whiskey’s large hand was on the back of your head, leading you to lean over.

“I’ve got you. We just gotta wash out your eyes.” He kept talking, although you couldn’t quite tell if it was to keep you or himself calm. “Open.” He instructed.

You listened, opening your eyes and whimpering at how much it hurt to do so. The room seemed so much brighter than it had been before. You only had a moment to think on this before Whiskey was pouring the water into your eyes. You reached out for him, steadying yourself with your hands against his chest.

When the flow of water stopped, you told Ginger. “Light sensitivity. Add that to the list of symptoms.”

“Got it.” She responded. “Whiskey, grab that case and get to the jet.”

Your partner’s hands were on your arms, helping you to stand. He left you momentarily and you heard the briefcase snap closed. His arm wrapped around your waist as he led you away from the wall. You stumbled a few times over the bodies on the floor, but Whiskey did a good job of leading you. Any misstep you took or slight fumble, he never let you fall. You were lucky the two of you had dispatched everyone in the house before making it to the office. There was no one left alive to stop you as you left.

“It’s really starting to burn.” You told them, feeling tears falling from your eyes. The burning was also translating into a headache as the pain spread. It was getting harder to focus on Whiskey as he navigated the two of you out of the house.

“Stick with me, pick up your feet. I got ya.” Whiskey continued to instruct as you moved.

You knew you’d made it outside the second the sunlight hit your face. Even through closed eyelids, the light was too much to bear. You cried out in pain, shielding your eyes with your hands. You would have fallen to your knees if not for Whiskey’s firm grip on you.

“I can’t.” You cried, holding your head in your hands. “It’s too much.”

Whiskey cursed under his breath before you felt something slip atop your head and you were lifted off the ground. “Keep your head down,” Whiskey ordered, the vibrations of his voice moving through his chest against you. You could feel the bouncing of his footsteps as he ran. You removed your hands from your eyes to hold onto him, and you assumed you were wearing his hat by the way it kept the sun off your face. You buried your head into his neck to shield your eyes even more from the light.

“We’re almost there.” He promised as you trembled in his arms.

When Whiskey had landed the jet earlier, it hadn’t seemed too far from the cabin - far enough to not alert them to your presence of course, but the trek there hadn’t seemed far. Now, it felt like he might as well be carrying you to Canada as the pain grew worse. You could hear Whiskey and Ginger talk, but it grew harder to hear them over your own groans of pain and the blood rushing through your ears. You were crying in earnest into Whiskey’s shoulder, fighting the urge to claw at your eyes.

You felt his gait change as he ascended the stairs into the jet. You could hear his voice but the words were lost on you as he set you down into a sitting position. Without him to grip onto, your hands flew to your eyes. Your arms were quickly restrained, making you yell and thrash. It was too bright. It hurt too much. The stinging was unbearable now.

You felt a single hand wrap around both wrists as you pleaded for him to let you go. You needed to do something to stop the pain.

You barely felt the pinprick to your neck. As it got harder to fight him, you realized he must have given you a sedative. He dropped your arms as your muscles grew sluggish and you felt him buckling you safely into the seat. You tried to mumble a thank you to him, but you couldn’t be sure if the words made it out of your brain as you lost consciousness.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Your surroundings came to you slowly. The feel of the stiff cot under you, covered with scratchy linens. A few quiet beeps from different machines. The sensors attached to your chest and your arms - you must be in the medical wing back at Statesman HQ. It took you a moment to remember what had landed you in medical but once you did you were pleasantly surprised to not feel any pain.

You couldn’t remember anything after stepping outside the cabin. The last vivid memory you had was the sun hitting your face and excruciating pain shooting through your head. Whiskey must have gotten the two of you back safely.

Your eyes fluttered open meeting a dark room. You were thankful for that, remembering how severe the light sensitivity had gotten. Introducing you to light slowly was a good idea.

“You’re awake.” The voice made you jump, even though you quickly recognized it to be Ginger. You didn’t expect her to be waiting in the dark for you. “How do you feel?”

You heard the heart rate sensor beep a little quicker as you clutched your chest from the scare, laughing softly. “You scared me. I feel okay, actually. No pain.”

“That’s great.” You could hear the relief in her voice. “And your vision?”

The question gave you pause, wondering how you were supposed to test your vision in the dark. “Turn the light on and I’ll tell you.”

“What?” Ginger’s voice was clipped, fallen from the relief it held moments ago. You weren’t sure exactly what the tone was but you knew you didn’t like it.

“Turn the lights on, Ging.”

“The lights are on.” She explained. You could hear the clicking of her footsteps and the rustling of her clothes as she moved closer. A hand on your right arm made you flinch.

“That’s not funny.” You scoffed.

“I’m not joking.” She replied seriously. She was silent for a moment, the faint rustling of fabric moving again before she asked “you don’t see that at all?”

“See what?”

“I’m shining a flashlight into your eyes.”

“No you’re not.”

“Ginger!” You heard Whiskey’s drawl, echoing like it was in a different room. Footsteps, heavier than the ones you had just heard, accompanied his voice as you figured he must be entering approaching your room. “She awake yet?”

“Whiskey, tell Ginger to stop joking around.” You begged, starting to freak out. The increased beeping beside you accompanied the anxiety you were feeling spread through your body.

“What’s going on?” The cowboy asked, worry coating his voice as it moved closer.

“She can’t see anything.” Ginger admitted, her hand leaving your arm. You heard Whiskey exhale to your left, a loud breath that sounded like he’d been punched in the solar plexus.

“Why not?” He demanded.

“I don’t know.” Ginger admitted. “We’re still analyzing the substance. So far all we know is it seems to be made from orange blossoms and some kind of berry-”

“It won’t be permanent, right?” You asked, cutting Ginger off. Your voice sounded so small compared to the other two in the room. There wasn’t an answer right away, footsteps approaching from the left before a large, warm hand covered yours.

“We’ll figure this out, sugar.” Whiskey told you as he laced his fingers with yours.

“We will.” Ginger confirmed. She sounded confident, and you knew she was nothing if not capable, but you still felt tears roll down your cheeks as the fear crashed over you.

You heard Whiskey tut beside you before he was brushing your tears away, his large palms cupping your cheeks as his thumbs brushed your skin.

“I’ll get to the lab. See if we’ve got anything new.” Ginger excused herself and you could hear her footsteps fade as she left the room.

As the two of you were left alone, you felt the cot shift underneath you as Whiskey sat down. He pulled you into a hug, letting you cry into his shoulder. She rocked you gently back and forth, telling you it was going to be okay. He let you cry until you felt numb, like there were no tears left. He didn’t move away until you lifted your head.

“I’d offer you my handkerchief, but it’s in the lab too.” Whiskey told you, voice light like he was trying to make you smile. He shifted away for a brief second, leaning back as you felt him press a scratchy fabric into your hand, which you quickly identified as a tissue. You used it to blot at your cheeks and nose.

You thanked him, your voice hoarse from crying. “Not just for this,” you waved the tissue in the air. “For getting us out of there.”

“It’s part of the gig, sugar.” It sounded like he was grinning when he spoke. You hoped he was. Even more, you hoped you’d see the grin for yourself again soon.

The next several days revolved around tests. Scans of your head and eyes, tests being done on the limited amount of the substance the lab had collected from Whiskey’s handkerchief and the briefcase. You didn’t even realize there were that many different tests they could perform, but everyday they brought you new results. Unfortunately, none of the results so far had led to any answers about why you’d lost your sight. As the lab identified more ingredients of the goo that had sprayed you, they tried different medicines and remedies but nothing had changed. They also told you how the substance had left you with a light rash on the skin of your face and hands where you’d been exposed. You were hardly worried about the rash. They said it was fading naturally. You wished your sight would return naturally too.

Between tests, you were hardly ever along. Whiskey visited you more often than not. Ginger spent a lot of time with you during tests as well as socially for meals. The team of doctors and junior agents working with her to help heal you all came and went. Tequila, Champ and other Statesman agents came by to check in on you when they could.

It was getting easier to identify who was coming as you started to hear differences in their footsteps. Whiskey had a long, slow gait, his boots slapping the floor with a dull thud. Tequila’s steps were quicker, and his boots snapped a little lighter against the floor. Champ’s steps were slower, like Whiskey’s, but there was an irregularity to the pattern. His left hip making him have the slightest limp that you had never noticed by sight alone. Ginger was easiest, being one of the few women who came to see you. Her steps clacked as her heels hit the floor.

You were also surprised to start noticing the different scents everyone held. Tequila, bless that boy, smelt obnoxiously like axe spray deodorant, reminding you of a high school boy’s gym class. Champ smelt of vanilla, cloves and the cigar smoke that clung to his clothes. Ginger smelt like clean linens, a hint of tropics in her detergent but seemed to be content staying largely scent-free, no perfumes that you could pick up on.

Whiskey’s smell was more complex, but maybe that was because he was the one who would sit next to you on the bed, giving you a chance to really breathe it in. Hints of spiced citrus hung to his clothes, along with the smell of leather and smoke - not smoke like Champ, but the kind from a freshly fired gun. When he got close enough, his musk had you remembering being cradled in his arms as he carried you away from the cabin, his hat atop your head.

You were thankful for the ways you were picking up to identify people. Your years as an agent had you trained to survey your surroundings, to avoid being caught off guard. It was unsettling to have your primary sense for that taken away from you. Most people were learning to announce themselves as they approached your room, giving you a heads up someone was nearing. Not everyone did. Tequila was particularly bad at it, and you suspected he enjoyed watching you jump.

You expressed your worries to Champ when he came to visit, on the fourth day of no progress. He chuckled and patted your back in a fatherly way.

“Let’s give them some time to figure this out, Amaretto. We don’t need to start plannin’ a retirement party just yet.”

You supposed he was trying to help you worry less, but it didn’t help. Would you have to retire if your vision wasn’t restored? You could hardly imagine a position at Statesman that you could easily navigate without sight. If you ever learned braille, and how to type, maybe some kind of administration or archival job, but who knew how long it would take you to master those skills. It was hard enough to accept what this meant for your career, let alone the rest of your life.

The agents that came to visit tried to help take your mind off of it, but it was hard when there was no true reprieve.

“Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged.

“You know, I’m startin’ to remember why I wasn’t so fond of this book in school.” Whiskey interrupted his recitation. “How Mr. Twain managed to turn the absolute boredom of paintin’ a fence into the written word with such lucidity is an artform in itself.”

“Oh stop,” you laughed, reaching beside you to swat at him. It was an easy thing to aim for, feeling the warmth of him on the bed next to you, his arm pressed to yours.

“I’m just sayin’ that I’ve had better adventures before breakfast than these so called adventures of Tom Sawyer.” He complained.

“Tom Sawyer wasn’t a senior agent of a secret spy organization.”

“And good thing too. He’d have burnt this place to the ground by now with his behaviour.” He harrumphed, making you laugh.

“Just keep reading.”

He sighed, a long, annoyed sigh.

“Please.” You sang, smiling up at him as you leaned into his arm. These were the moments you could really smell the spice and leather on him.

He was silent for a beat. Although the two of you were joking, you almost worried he wouldn’t keep reading. It was much harder to read people’s moods without seeing their facial expressions. No smile or eye roll to go by had you guessing by voice tone alone. Silences had you absolutely puzzled.

“Can’t, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an’ git dis water an’ not stop foolin’ roun’ wid anybody. She say she spec’ Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an’ so she tole me go ’long an’ ’tend to my own business—she ’lowed she’d ’tend to de whitewashin’.”

“Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That’s the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket—I won’t be gone only a a minute. She won’t ever know.”

“Oh, I dasn’t, Mars Tom. Ole missis she’d take an’ tar de head-

“I’d be able to follow a lot easier if you did different voices for the different characters.” You interrupted.

“Don’t push your luck.” He grumbled, but you were pretty sure you could hear that grin in his voice again as he kept reading.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“Keep your eyes closed.” You were instructed by Tonic, a junior agent who worked under Ginger. You felt the dampened towel being lifted from your eyes. You’d just spent 40 minutes laying back, letting the medicinal solution on the towel soak in. You had done the same thing the day before, and would likely be doing it again tomorrow.

“Just dimming the lights. Hold on.” Tonic explained as you heard his shuffling footsteps through the room. It was a good thing he had a knack for medicine because he’d be an awful field agent with the way he never picked up his feet.

“Okay, open.”

You did as instructed, blinking as your eyes adjusted to being open again. Just like the day before, you only saw the familiar inky blackness.

“Nothing.” You shook your head.

“That’s okay.” You could hear the forced optimism in his voice. “Ginger said it could take up to five treatments for this to work. We’ll do it again tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” You gave the poor kid the best smile you could muster, but you were definitely losing hope. It had been nearly a week now with no progress. It was getting time to face facts.

“Don’t worry, Agent Amaretto. We’ll figure it out.” The boy told you, a soft pat on your shoulder accompanying his attempt at comfort.

You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen Tonic around Statesman. You might have walked by in passing, but you were never introduced. It was weird to be spending this much time with someone and having no idea what they looked like. You were almost tempted to ask, but kept it to yourself. You'd have to get used to not knowing what new people looked like.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You shuffled out of the bathroom with your hand on the doorframe to help guide you. You had showered - your first true shower on your own, not just a quick wash-up in the sink or a sponge bath - and it made you feel slightly more human again. The robe was soft and plush against your skin, wearing only a tank top and underwear under it. The towel you had half-heartedly wrapped your hair in was falling out of the twist - you hadn’t quite mastered that skill without seeing yet.

You opened your mouth to dismiss the junior agent who had been tasked with waiting for you - sitting outside the washroom in case you needed to call for help - but you were interrupted.

“I sent her on her way, sugar.” You immediately recognized Whiskey’s twang. He was the best so far at announcing his presence, and you truly appreciated it. You still jumped slightly, not expecting him to be here. “Sorry.” He chuckled.

“I’ll get used to it eventually.” You waved off his apology, not actually knowing if you would ever get used to it.

“C’mon, none of that.” Whiskey tutted. Your uncertainty must have shown on your face. “Want a hand?”

“Yes, please.’ You confirmed, holding your arm out towards his voice. You heard him approach, footsteps and fabric, before he looped his arm around yours.

“Where to?” They had set up a table and chairs for you in the room, trying to make you feel more at home than in a hospital room. All it did was reaffirm that you weren’t any closer to finding a solution and that your stay was going to last even longer.

“The bed, please.”

He led you to the bed easily, not taking his arm away until you were sitting comfortably. You felt the towel fall even further off your head as you sat.

“Can you pass me the brush?” You asked him, holding your hand out.

You waited, hearing Whiskey move around, but instead you felt him pull your hair free from the towel. With your wet hair falling down your back, you felt him run the brush through it.

“What are you doing?” You chuckled.

“You just relax, sugar.” He ordered. He started at the ends of your hair, brushing the tangles out before moving closer to your scalp.

“I can brush my own hair.” You argued even though you were grinning.

“Just let me take care of you, Rhett.” He huffed, smacking you on the shoulder with the flat side of the brush.

“Fine, Whisk.” You huffed playfully in response, leaving him to brush your hair.

He was surprisingly gentle, only once did your hair pull painfully at your scalp to which he mumbled a quick apology. You hadn’t had someone brush your hair for you in a long time. Outside of a hairdresser, it probably hadn’t happened since you were a child. As much as you were trying to maintain your independence with your new loss of sight, it was very relaxing.

You hadn’t expected it when you felt him part your hair into sections and start weaving them together.

“Are you… braiding my hair?” You asked curiously.

“Yes, ma’am.” He hummed, clearly concentrated on his task.

“Okay, the brushing I could let go, but are you going to tell me how you know how to braid?” You laughed.

“I’ve made my own whips before, sugar.” He explained, his drawl even more pronounced as he spoke slowly, keeping his focus on the hair. “Part of that is just fancy bradin’.”

“You make your own whips?” That surprised you.

Whiskey chuckled, his fingers brushing lower and lower on your back as the braid progressed. “Not the ones I use on missions, but I have some at home I made. I’m not too up on the electricity part, but a good ol’ fashioned bullwhip? I can throw one of those together in a few days if I have the time.”

“So which came first? Using the whip or making them?”

“Been usin’ them since I was a boy, on the family farm. Started makin’ em ‘round the same time, maybe a few years between. Although those first ones were nothin’ to celebrate. I got better at it. Decent hobby to have, if you’ve got scraps of leather hanging around.”

You felt him end the braid as he spoke, tying an elastic around the end. You lifted your hand to your hair so you could feel the braid. It was surprisingly sturdy and didn’t feel like there were any messes of bumps.

“Thank you.” You turned, smiling in his direction.

He was silent as he pushed the braid over one shoulder, his fingertips grazing your neck as he did. The sensation left goosebumps on your still-damp skin.

“I also used to braid my wife’s hair.” He admitted quietly. “Especially when she wasn’t feelin’ well. Braided it up to keep it out of her face.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. You knew a bit about Whiskey’s past, about his high school sweetheart and that she’d died, but it was hardly ever discussed between the two of you. Before you came up with something to say, he continued.

“When we found out she was expectin’,” he grunted as you felt the mattress dip. You scooted over to make room for him to sit. “I was braidin’ her hair all the time. For one, the mornin’ sickness that first trimester, hoo-” he chuckled softly, lost in the memory. “It really kicked her ass. Spent most her time huggin’ a bucket or praying to the porcelain gods. But before we found out she was carryin’ a boy, she wanted me to practice. ‘Case we had a little girl.”

You bit your lip, reaching in Whiskey’s direction. You wanted nothing more than to take his hand in yours, but you fumbled in the air clumsily. He brought his hand up to yours, letting you grip it tightly.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“Thank you, sugar.” He answered back. “Was another life. Wasn’t meant for me, I guess.”

You gave his hand another squeeze, really wishing you knew what to say. Something to make the pains of his past a little… less. His hand stayed in yours, but you heard something rustling off to the side.

“What are we readin’ tonight? We’ve still got some of Tom Sawyer’s adventures to go through, or we can start Pride and Prejudice.”

You leaned back, getting comfortable in the bed. “Tom Sawyer. Besides, you can’t tell me you actually want to read Pride and Prejudice.” You grinned, letting him change the subject.

“I could be persuaded, but if the lady requests Tom Sawyer…” He trailed off, likely picking up the book based on what you heard. He got settled in beside you and you heard the pages turning as he found where the two of you had left off. As he read, his hand stayed firmly in yours.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“Lean back.” Ginger instructed. You did so, keeping a firm grip on the arms of the chair to keep your equilibrium. They had uncovered a new piece of whatever had attacked you, leading them to coming up with another possible cure. Ginger had explained this to you as she prepared you for the eyedrops. You were glad they were eyedrops this time because last time it had been a gel. Even without your sight, the feeling of gel in your eyes was incredibly unpleasant. That being said, you’d do it everyday for the rest of your life if it meant you could see again.

“Ready?” She asked, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“Mhmm.” You held your eyes open as much as you could, waiting for the liquid to hit them. If you thought eyedrops were bad before, they were worse now that you couldn’t see them coming.

The first drop hit your eye, making you jump despite being ready for it. You felt one more drop in the left eye before she moved to your right.

The cooling effect was almost immediate, the strange tingling making your eyes water. You fought against blinking until Ginger gave you the go ahead. You kept your head tilted until a tissue was pressed into your hand.

You leaned back upwards, wiping the residual drops from your cheeks. There were tears too, your eyes watering from the sensation.

“How does it feel?” Ginger asked as you heard her click a pen.

“Tingly.” You told her. “It feels like minty, maybe? Like chewing mint gum with my eyes. Or menthol.” You tried to explain. You heard her scribble something down as she hummed in response.

“Let me know if anything changes. It could take up to an hour to work.” She explained.

You blinked continuously, having no choice as the reflex tried to deal with the feeling in your eyes. It wasn’t unpleasant or painful, just very foreign.

Ginger ate lunch with you while you waited for something to happen, but nothing did. You swallowed down your thoughts of ‘I told you so,’ instead agreeing with her that maybe the next thing would work.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“We gotta start making plans, Champ.” You told him plainly, hands clasped in your lap. “I can’t stay here forever.”

“‘Course not!” The man agreed with gusto. “Forever is out of the question.”

You sighed, knowing he was deflecting. “Nothing is working yet.”

“Somethin’ will.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“What if it does?”

“Agent Champagne-”

“You sound like my wife.” He snarked.

“Your wife calls you Agent Champagne?” You asked with a smirk. You couldn’t resist taking that bait.

“A gentleman wouldn’t kiss and tell.” He joked, but it did little to lighten your mood. “But what I mean is the tone of voice. That’s the voice she uses when she thinks I’m being as dumb as a bag o’ hammers.”

You wouldn’t have quite put it that way, but you did think Champ was avoiding dealing with the situation at hand.

“So I’m gonna tell you what I tell her when she starts usin’ that particular tone of voice.” He took a pause and you waited for him to continue. “Trust me.”

You sighed, dropping your head. “I trust you, Champ.”

“Then why are we havin’ this conversation? Is it Ginger and her team? Do you not trust Ginger?”

“Of course I do-”

“You don’t trust Statesman or Statesman technology or medicine?”

“That’s not what I’m saying-”

“Then you stop worrying ‘bout what we’re gonna do with you, and focus on gettin’ better.” He instructed, his tone firm. His accent grew thicker as he went on. “I won’t hear anymore about plannin’ nothin’ ‘cause you’re going to get back out there, Agent Amaretto. This piss poor attitude ain’t helpin’ nothin’! If we thought this was a lost cause, we’d tell you. You’d get a gold watch and we’d set you up with a good pension and probably a little desk job at some library somewhere to keep you busy, but that’s not in the cards for you.”

You couldn’t help but tear up as Champ went on. You weren’t even totally sure why. You felt so alone, like no one was hearing your concerns - but at the same time, it sounded like Champ had been thinking about possibilities. A librarian? You didn’t want to end up a librarian. You almost wanted to go back to not talking about the future.

“You, missy, are a Statesman Senior Agent. Now, I’ve already got Tequila climbing up the walls and causin’ trouble, I can’t be worryin’ about herding two cats. Suck up that booboo lip and act like the Agent you are. Understood?”

“Yessir.” You mumbled.

“I didn’t hear you, Agent Amaretto.”

“Yessir.” You repeated, louder this time.

“Good.” You could hear the finality in his voice before the ice in his drink clinked together as he took a sip. “‘Cause if that didn’t work… well, the next tactic I use on the Missus is a little inappropriate to try with you, Agent. No offense.”

Now that did get a laugh out of you.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The podcast played from the speaker beside you, but you were only half listening to it. You were thinking of taking a nap, more out of boredom and lack of anything better to do than tiredness, when you heard familiar heavy footsteps approaching your room. You couldn’t help that it lifted your spirits to know Whiskey was on his way.

“‘Rhett.” He greeted, that signature tone in his voice letting you know he was grinning.

“Whisk.” You responded with a sigh. “You know, if anyone else called me that, I might have to kill them.”

“Not interrupting, am I?” He ignored your warning, stepping into your room.

“No. Wasn’t really listening to this anyway.” You told him. You turned your head in the direction of the speaker and asked it to stop. The room fell into silence as you sat up on the cot.

“That better not have been a book on tape.” He warned.

“Now why would I listen to one of those when I have a real life book on tape at my beck and call.” You smirked.

“Walkin’ talkin’ book on tape, huh? If that’s all I am to you, I think I might just take this present back home with me then.”

“Wait!” You stopped him, hearing his feet retreating back towards the door. “You didn’t say you had a present.”

“Thought that might change your tune.” He chuckled.

You scooted to the side of the cot, patting the mattress beside you. It only took him a second to sit next to you, that familiar spiced citrus and leather scent taking over your senses.

“Hands out.” He instructed. You held your hands in front of you, waiting impatiently for them to be filled. He placed the gift in your hands, but you had no idea what it was yet.

It was circular, but it seemed to vary in width - no, it wasn’t circular, it was just looped. You ran your hand over it, feeling the smooth pattern adorning it.

“What is it?” You asked, finding the end of it - a strong, heavy piece, the texture similar to the rest of it, although the pattern was different. The very end came to a bulbous tip.

“That’s a bonafide, one of a kind, handmade by yours truly, bullwhip.” He explained, taking your hand in his and wrapping it around the handle to hold it properly.

“For real?” You smiled, feeling what you now knew to be leather under your fingers.

“For real.” He chuckled.

You tested the weight of the handle, feeling the drag as the rest of the whip pulled against the sheets. Your fingers ran over the design, following the lines of the handle carefully woven and etched throughout. You regripped the handle and ran your other hand over the tail of the whip, pulling your hands apart to get a feel for how long it was.

“What does it look like?” You asked, leaning into him.

“It’s brown. Medium brown, the colour of gingerbread, maybe. Right along here,” he took your hand holding the handle and guided you in tracing the designs. “It’s stained red, just to make it pop. Not blood red, just tinged red with the stain. Gives it some detail, you know?”

“What else?” You asked, feeling breathless as he helped you to see the details with your hands.

“Well you can probably guess it’s made of leather.” You nodded. “But it’s actually made of kangaroo leather.

“Kangaroo?” You asked in shock. “Where’d a farm boy get kangaroo leather?”

You felt Whiskey’s laugh against your side. “I made this one a year or so ago. Just so turns out that kangaroo hide is one of the strongest in the world and well, when you have a hobby that requires leather, you start gettin’ creative with what kind of leather you’re usin’. Gotta keep it excitin’.”

“You don’t get enough excitement at your day job?” You teased.

“Nah, I’ve got this great partner who always has my back.” His voice made you shiver, despite the fact that his comment had your face heating up. He was leaning heavily against you now, his breath fanning over your cheek.

You swallowed the lump that had appeared in your throat, finding your voice to ask him to tell you more.

“About my partner? She’s a great gal. I’m sure I’d be dead twice over if she wasn’t there to pull my ass outta trouble. She’s a great shot, and there ain’t nothin’ sexier than a woman who can handle a pistol.”

His hand was on your opposite cheek, turning you to face him. The gentle touch made your breath stutter in your throat.

“She’s got this amazing smile that can make a mark fall in love from 40 paces, and it can light up a room from even farther.” He continued, the breath from his voice dancing across your face. His breath smelt like the spiced Whiskey he was named for, and a slight hint of cherries.

“She deserves better than me for her partner, that’s for damn sure. A broken man with a messy past who’s been too scared to tell her how special she is. I thought it was best to keep it professional, but I don’t know if I can anymore.” His nose brushed against yours. You gasped softly at how close he was.

“She’s always in danger, we both are, but once she was in danger I couldn’t help her out of… that made me realize how important she is. If she’ll let me though,” he whispered. You could feel his lips brush against yours as he spoke, his mustache tickling your upper lip.. “I’d like to spend all my time makin’ that up to her.”

“Jack-” Your whisper was cut off as he pressed his lips to yours gently. It was so gentle, almost hesitant. The man was such a loud, boisterous personality and this kiss was so contrary to that.

You dropped the whip, bringing your hand up to rest on his hand on your cheek. You followed his arm past his shoulder and up his neck to tangle in his hair. You felt his breath hitch from the light tug on the strands.

“I’m gonna stick by her side,” he muttered, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “No matter what happens. I’m gonna do everything I can to help you.”

You pulled him into another kiss, tilting your head to slot your lips together. He hummed softly into the kiss, brushing your cheek lightly with his thumb. His other arm wrapped tightly around your waist, like he was scared you would disappear. You nipped his bottom lip, trying to reassure him you weren’t going anywhere.

He hissed softly at the sensation and your tongue darted out to soothe the skin. His own tongue met yours, his moan at the contact matching your sigh.

He pulled back and you chased his lips. You were stopped as his nose brushed against yours, his shaky breath flitting across your face.

“Say it again.” He requested, so quietly you almost didn’t even hear.

“Say what?” You hummed, distracted by his nuzzling and the strong urge to have his lips against yours again.

“My name, sugar.” He was close enough that you could feel his cheek flex with a lopsided grin. “I ain’t ever heard you call me by name before now.”

You smiled in return, biting your lip. It was true. You’d called him Whiskey most of the time. Agent Whiksey when you were being formal. Whisk when he annoyed you. Numerous different names while undercover…

“Kiss me, Jack.”

He growled, low and deep in his chest, before he obliged. Now this was the kiss you expected from Whi- from Jack Daniels. His tongue, pressing past the seam of your lips. It felt like he was marking his territory, all you could do was let him. He swallowed your moans as you matched his hunger. He kissed you with passion, both experienced and unrefined. Unbridled. He kissed you breathless, until you had no choice but to part.

You pulled back, panting softly as you leaned your forehead against his. You wished you could see him. See if he was just as affected by the kiss as you were.

You slid your hand from his hair to his cheek. His skin was warm, you could almost imagine it tinged pink, flushed from being so breathless. You continued exploring, finding his mustache next. The coarse hair felt askew, likely mussed from kissing and not the neat, groomed thing you were used to. You felt the uptick of his lips in that signature grin, and you couldn’t help but feel those too. They were warm and moist. You wondered if they were swollen, like yours felt.

Jack held your hand still, kissing each finger tip one at a time. The tickle of his mustache made you giggle.

“I mean it, sugar.” You could feel his lips move against your fingertips, his voice vibrating through your hand. “I’m here with you. Whether they figure this out or not. We’ll get through it.”

It was the first time someone other than yourself acknowledged that your sight may never return. It didn’t bring about the hollow defeat you’d been feeling anytime you thought of being blind the rest of your life. It finally felt like you had someone in your corner. Of course it would be Jack. He’d had your back for years, working together in the field. You should have known it would be him, in the end.

“Thank you.” You dropped your hand from his face to wrap both arms around him, hugging him as you rested your head against his chest.

You felt him press a kiss against your forehead before he pulled you to lay down. He held you, cradled into his side as you burrowed your face into his neck. You heard something fall, probably the whip that had been forgotten on the sheets.

“Oops.” You winced, not having meant to be so careless with his gift. You moved to sit up, wanting to pick it up, but he held you firm.

“Leave it there,” he instructed. You relished the way his deep voice vibrated against you. “It ain’t gonna fall any further.”

“I don’t want something to happen to it.”

“If it does, I'll make you a hundred more.” He promised.

“Fine.” You ceded, snuggling back into him with a deep inhale. Leather and spice.

The arm that was draped over your waist left your side. You felt his muscles move under his shirt as he stretched out. It only took a minute before the released, relaxing again. You heard the fluttering of paper before he started to read.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The pressure from the device around your head was unpleasant, but not unbearable. The way it pressed down on your eyes made you want to squirm. Instead, you squeezed frantically at the stress ball Ginger had offered you before you’d been strapped in. You knew Whiskey was standing with her as she ran the test, but you wished he could be here. You’d take his hand in yours over the foam smiley face any day.

“Almost done, Amaretto.” Ginger’s voice echoed through the speaker, barely audible over the hum of the awful machine.

“You’ve got this, sugar.”

“Whiskey, don’t tou-”

“-tell me not to-”

“-my lab, my buttons-”

“-OW!”

The bickering coming through the speakers was almost enough to make you laugh. The clicking of the microphone engaging and disengaging had you picturing the two fighting over whatever button turned the feed on. The two had spent hours bickering the past two weeks, Jack becoming increasingly more involved in your treatment as the two of you shifted from partners to... well, there was no set term put on it yet, but you were very fond of kissing him. You couldn’t quite imagine the cowboy in the other room being called a boyfriend. It felt very middle school.

It was another few minutes of the machine humming, pressing awkwardly against you, until Ginger finally announced you were done. You heard the door between you and them open, two sets of footsteps approaching. One set of hands started to release the device from your head, while the other took the stress ball away. It was replaced with a large, warm hand that lifted yours until a kiss was pressed to your knuckles. The mustache prickled against your skin.

“Okay, you can sit up. Go slow, though.” Ginger instructed once you were free. You did, feeling your head swim.

“How’re you feeling?” Jack asked.

“Light headed.” You answered honestly, waiting for the feeling to pass. You leaned into Jack, letting him support you through the dizziness.

“Almost done.” He cooed, petting your braided hair. “We’ll get you back to your room soon.”

You heard Ginger moving around the room before she came to a stop in front of you. There was silence for a beat.

“Any change?” She asked.

You blinked a few times, but there was nothing. “No.”

You sighed, letting your shoulders slump with defeat, but Jack stayed strong next to you.

“That’s okay.” He hummed, not letting on any disappointment he might be feeling. He never tried to dictate how you should feel about your condition, but he stayed strong for you throughout. It was still so hard to deal with that you may never see again, but he made it a little easier. “Let’s get you back to your room. I for one am dyin’ to know what happens to Elizabeth next.”

You scoffed as he helped you to stand. “Sure you are.” His hands held you steady until you found your footing, his arm wrapping around you to guide you out of the lab.

“I am.” He argued. “I’m invested in it now.”

“Oh, well I guess I didn’t need to ask Champ to track down some Louis L’Amour books.”

“To hell with Elizabeth.” Jack declared, making you laugh.

You roused slowly. It took you a moment to realize you had fallen asleep while Jack read. The last thing you remember in the story was the caravan was going to be attacked. You wondered how long Jack had read for before realizing you’d fallen asleep. You were pressed tightly to his side, you could feel his warm body next to you. His head was leaning against yours, his deep breaths tickling your ear. He let out the tiniest snores anytime he exhaled. It made you smile.

“Jack, wake up.” You hummed, pressing a kiss to his neck. He hummed in response but didn’t fully wake. You called his name again, nuzzling into him.

Your name left his lips in a soft moan as he told you to go back to sleep.

“You’re going to have an awful kink in your neck if you keep sleeping like that. Come on.” You argued quietly, poking him lightly in his side as you sat up.

“Alright,” he groaned. You felt his body stretch out beside yours before he too sat up. You felt something hit your leg and you instinctively opened your eyes to see what it was.

You saw the book had fallen off Jack’s lap-

You saw.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @driedgreentomatoes

A/N: The books that are mentioned being read by Whiksey are The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, and The Walking Drum by Louis L’Amour

#Agent Whiskey #Agent Whiskey x Reader #Agent Whiskey x f!Reader #Agent Whiskey fanfic #Agent Whiskey imagine #Kingsman The Golden Circle fic #Agent Whiskey fic #agent whiskey reader insert #Pedro Pascal Character fanfiction #WookieTales

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whoistheasshole · 3 years

Text

How do I get out of this unsatisfying life I’m living?

Anonymous asks: So the thing is that I feel incredibly stuck - I have all the basics of life which I'm grateful for but also that was my BIG dream as a kid, to get tf out of my parents' house - but now I have that and idk what to do for the rest of my life. Like, if I try those "visualize your future" things I'm just like, "I'd like to sleep for a month, maybe longer" & it feels like I don't really WANT anything so I can't plan, you know? Just flailing here honestly. Pretty tired of it.

I wrote back: I got your question. To pinpoint my answer a little better, can you tell me about your current situation, like how long has it been since you moved out? Which are the things you have in order to your satisfaction? Some vague idea of your age range would also be helpful, but I can work without it too if you’d rather not share.

Anonymous answered: Ah, sorry. I was trying to fit in the character limit & also whenever I think about this my mind just goes flbbbbth. It's been about 5 years? That's about the only thing I'm truly HAPPY about, I'm not thrilled with my social/love life, career, etc & have pretty much been just coasting tbh. I'm almost 30. Thanks for entertaining this.

Alright, thanks for adding some background. I will come at this from different angles and you can pretty much pick and choose what sounds helpful and leave the rest, okay?

First, while there are people who have it all figured out, methodically planning their next career step or fully certain that there is no greater joy than raising a child, there are tons of other people who just, to quote, go „ flbbbbth“ when asked about their next steps or, god forbid, their life plan. I would say I fall in the latter camp, but I don’t mind because I think there is nothing wrong with that. I let myself be guided by the things I need to be happy (more on that later) and by current necessities – if my job becomes shit, I need to find a new job. If a friendship goes sour, I need to end it respectfully. But I couldn’t tell you specific career or personal goals, except...

... let’s talk about the „later“ now.

I’m an organizer, maybe even a worrier, and therefore I like lists. And for that reason I made a list a while ago that I still have and expect to keep for a long time. It is a list of everything that I need to be satisfied with my life. It consists of 29 entries and has three of them checked, though several others could be counted as half-checked. I wrote down everything that came to mind, paying no attention whether it was reasonable or feasible to want. That wasn’t the question.

It covers stuff like a clean flat (not checked), restful sleep (not checked), friends that I see regularly (checked) or a job with purpose (not checked). This list is my guide. Well, generally my needs are my guide, but it can be hard to be aware of your needs sometimes, so I got this list. And if I wonder what I need or want to focus on, I can turn to it and choose one of the entries and see what I can do about it. I can also look over the list every few years and see if things have developed in the right direction. Little progress is no reason to chastise myself, but helpful information to see whether I need to re-direct my focus.

Please note that I wrote „satisfied“, not „happy“. Being happy is a passing emotional state. It is completely normal and okay not to be happy all the time. But quiet satisfaction with where you are or where you are going, that is pretty achievable. It certainly is a process, but an enjoyable one.

This list is not a race and it is not really a to-do list because most of the things I wrote down aren’t easy to accomplish with a single action. They take months and years and, for some items, I can only try and hope it works out some day (see anybody who ever purposely looked for a partner).

So maybe this kind of list could be an exercise for you. Maybe it provides you with some insight, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s not the right point in your life. But if you sit down and the only thing you can come up with is „cry forever“ or „sleep forever“ then, you know, that’s a sign.

Which brings me to my next point: Journaling or automatic writing. This method is especially helpful for those „I feel some kind of way and I couldn’t even tell you how“ moments – so maybe exactly where you are right now. Captain Akward has introduced me to a website called „750 words“ and I’ve used the principle of „morning pages“, though not the website, since then whenever I felt like some emotions were starting to boil over.

I sit down, ideally in the morning, and just barf it all on the (digital) page. There are only two rules: 1) Don’t edit or judge yourself, write everything as it comes to mind (that’s the automatic writing part) and 2) Don’t stop before you’ve reached 750 words. You are not looking to write anything readable or clever or lyrical, you’re looking to get all the weirdness out so you can move on. Repeat this as many days as you feel queasy or weird or confused or angry or sad. Each day, as soon as you’ve reached the 750 words, you can walk away. Heck, you could even delete/burn the document if that feels right. It’s just about giving your thoughts the room they need so you can continue with your day, hopefully feeling somewhat relieved.

While we’re at writing, I also have a question for you: Where is the pressure coming from to „do something with your life“? Is it truly coming from inside you or are there outside factors? Are people in your life asking you when you’ll have kids? Do you live in a culture where it’s expected that everybody does something of note, works certain prestigious jobs? Do you compare yourself to the people around you and feel like you’re „late“?

Maybe mull this over on a leisurely walk or write about it, using the method above. No matter where it’s coming from, the feeling of pressure won’t go away just by knowing its origin, but the knowledge can help you keep it under control. And if you find it is truly your own wish, you will have tools to shape your life according to your needs.

So, next, sleep: Maybe do that?

You wrote "I'd like to sleep for a month, maybe longer". I understand this was half a joke, but also … it was probably more than a joke.

How are your energy levels? How does life feel? Are you trying to jog through jello most of these days?

If we’ve been overachievers or had a tough home life or needed to take care of ourselves pretty early, we can become accustomed to everything being difficult. This feeling and behavior can become a way of life, even when circumstances change and we have a chance to act differently.

Do you feel rested? Do you have regular moments of quiet in your life that let you breathe? If not, this is where I would start. Forget about lists, though morning pages might be a helpful accompanying tool (if they don’t become a task to punish yourself with if you don’t find the energy).

Take some weeks or months, maybe even a year to make rest your priority. You will have to find a way that works for you. Yes there is a lot of clinically proven stuff out there, but you will not see me do yoga or meditate. Though feel free if that’s up your alley. If you love cycling or taking photos or drawing or just plain lying on your bed and staring at the wall, see where you can add more of that to your day. Whatever brings you closer to yourself and makes you feel like you can exhale and stand still for a moment, that’s the way to go. Do this as long as sleeping seems like a fine choice. And for good measure maybe a month longer. You are ready to stop when you cannot wait to do something else goddamnit I’m bored!!! (you might say)

If you are in this picture, please start here. Any kind of life plan, next steps, strategizing, solving of riddles would set you back and perpetuate your exhaustion. Rest is not time wasted, rest is how you get your life back.

If you are in this picture, you will likely find that if you really pull through, if you truly rest, as long and boring or even scary as it may be, the other questions will probably have an intuitive answer afterwards. Not like „this is my 20-year career plan“, but „I feel like doing x this week“. And that is enough. Because you won’t need to strain to hear your needs through the fog of exhaustion anymore.

Finally, some practical information and links for when you do have the energy and inclination to tackle your job and social life. I am not saying you need to change anything if that’s not what you want to focus on. These are just some tips, in case they become relevant.

For your social life, I recommend what others have recommended before me: Pick an activity that you do with other people and stick with it long enough to become a familiar face, see also here and here (yes, meeting gay people is similar to meeting other people). If you try out new stuff, go there at least 5 or 6 times before you decide it’s not for you – of course assuming nothing bad is coming up like racist or abusive people in the group. Shop around if the first group/activity doesn’t work for you until you find something that you’d like to do permanently. Maybe you’ll gain some friends, maybe you’ll find a romantic opportunity. In any case, if it’s something fun that you like to do anyway, you will have found an outlet with a social group attached. It is absolutely not as easy right now, with Covid and all, but if nothing outdoors-y comes to mind, you could also use this time to brainstorm what sounds like fun for when things are safer again.

Of course you can also look at opportunities online, like Discord servers, online interest groups etc but I do understand if that’s just not appealing right now. I am certainly over sitting in front of a screen.

To round this up, don’t sneeze at contacts that you already have. Are there acquaintances, friends of friends, colleagues, family members who you would like to get to know better? Then go do that! Suggest a time and place to meet up and see how they react. Say yes to the potential friends.

Speaking of which...

The Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes might also be interesting. Sure, it’s a little pop culture positive thinking kinda stuff, but I did like the impulse it gave me to consider when I say no to opportunities out of anxiety or worry. It made me accept some social invitations from colleagues (… in the before times) that I would not have otherwise considered. I did not gain life-long friends, but I did learn another valuable info: That my FOMO wasn’t justified for these events ;)

It also lead me to the decision to do one new thing every month – visit a new place or try a new activity or cook a new food. If the concept sounds appealing, just think about what sounds interesting and achievable to you.

And finally, the advice blog recommendations that I’ll always have. For social life, love life, and general life planning turmoil: Captain Awkward. For everything job-related, including how to write a good cover letter or interview well and, of course, how to get out of the dreaded current job you have: Ask A Manager.

To sum it up:

1) Figure out if you even have the energy to tackle any of this right now.

2) Figure out your pillars for a satisfying life – nothing big and shiny, just … basic needs, wishes, social needs.

3) When you feel like it, pick what you want to tackle next and see where it leads you.

4) Stay flexible. This is your life and it’s okay to go where it takes you, even if it doesn’t look „cool“ or „impressive“ from the outside. All you need is to make it your own.

And if you want to, let me know how it goes some time. :)

#post #questions #advice #WHO IS THE ASSHOLE #life advice #rest #recovery

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pompompurin1028 · 3 years

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Oh really?! That'd be absolutely lovely, thank you! I'm really unexperienced at doing anything artsy digitally; it gets bad if I don't have step-by-step instructions 😂.

Right! For some reason I only use s/o in my titles, Idk why 😂😳.

Ah, how interesting the same thing goes for me! I love literature, especially classic novels. BSD made me research a lot of the authors the characters are based on and I think it's astonishing how the author managed to build in facts about the irl authors so smoothly.

I am definitely thinking of reading it, thank you for the review and your consideration! I think I won't do it in the close future though, it could be triggering for me as of now 🤔.

What I will read is works from Akutagawa, as I recently discovered that I've been in possession of one of his books for years 😂 (it was hidden away in a mesa I've recently cleaned up).

Hope you're having a great day/night dear! ☺️

Aww of course!!🥰 I recommend you find a colour scheme or an aesthetic that you enjoy first! Then you can find others with a similar vibe and put them together!

And yes definitely! I also found it really interesting that some of the authors have direct relation to each other irl as well! Like Dazai irl admired Akutagawa, Dazai, Oda and Ango were often grouped together because of their writing style I believe (in the 無賴派), Ranpo (which is his pen name) is actually inspired by Poe! And also their abilities fit their books quite well! It amazes me how well everything fits together😖

And no problem! Yes it can be a bit triggering due to the topics it touches, so read it when you feel comfortable to, there is no rush☺ And omg that's so cool! It's like finding a hidden treasure kind of but for books haha. I actually found Akutagawa's book in the book store the other day, but I couldn't find one in English unfortunately😔 I have bought Fyodor's Crime and Punishment though, so I might continue with that for now. Do tell me what you thought of Akutagawa's book though! I'd love to hear it☺

I hope you're also having a lovely day/night when you're reading this🥰

#asks 💌#Jade😸

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autoplaysdigimon · 4 years

Text

Top Five Main Character List

#5 Gatomon

Idk man, if I’ve got any sort of Buttons in good characters it’s ones who defect to the Good Guys, and Gatomon filled that role pretty nicely. (also oh man am I excited for 02 for reasons that may or may not be related to this) Not only is there the whole thing about introducing a new character (or pair of characters!) into the group, therefore having a fresh pair of eyes on the situation and new inter-character interactions; there’s something fantastic about a character who gets to show both antagonist and protagonist shades to them.

Unfortunately, Gatomon didn’t really have time for much development after this all went down - she went from being a cool and interesting villain, to the star of an arc, to yet another Digimon in the pile of protagonists. Just another symptom of the large cast, I guess, but it was still disappointing. Even her voice acting was better as a villain - she had this kinda silky, purring inflection to it that she kinda lost as a main character.

Still, though, kitty cute :3

#4 Tentomon

Alright so I may or may not be cribbing off my favourite Digimon list for this buuuut

and also to be fair the Digimon who make this list might be some of my favourites because they were the best characters in the show but ANYWAY

Tentomon! I mean, come on, he’s an electric ladybug who’s also some kind of robotic insect thing??? He’s the perfect foil to Izzy, he gets some of the best lines that are just stupid jokes but they’re so dumb they’re hilarious, he’s got an interesting voice that seems to be somewhere between a stereotypical “insect voice” and a goofy robot but also without being artificially synthesised, Medabots style (which is also cool, but it’s neat that they didn’t for Tentomon, I think).

Also, his VA Jeff Nimoy was on the writing team for the dub, which is neat but also he’s one of the ones to blame for the Everything about the dub.

#3 Joe Kido

Man, I never expected to empathise with this dude as much as I ended up doing in this rewatch, but hey! Dude’s got a good head on his shoulders, he’s got that Anxiety Relatable Feels, he’s a nervous wreck and he’s also got a surprising amount of great lines. I never appreciated him as a kid, but as an adult... hoo boy. Also his partner is a little seal man and that’s just :3

I’ve come to the conclusion that, if I were to go to the Digital World myself like these kids did, I’d react somewhere between Joe and Mimi. Nooo nothing’s clean enough and I’m tired and hungry and shouldn’t we at least have some cover while we sleep in case we’re attacked and it’s too hot here and we’re all gonna die and and and...

And then I’m booted off the island.

#2 Mimi Tachikawa

Oh hey, speaking of which!

Despite the dub team’s tendency to give her the most shallow, stereotypical lines in the show, Mimi’s fantastic. She’s kind of a boss-ass bitch and I can’t help but respect that, and also pink cowboy aesthetic??? YES PLEASE.

There was also that phase I went through as a kid where I rejected traditional femininity, and being a Sora fan over Mimi was definitely part of that. Nowadays I don’t really have any strong feelings about Sora one way or another, but I’ve really grown to like Mimi. Is this just me over-correcting from my kid views? Who knows! She’s got a pink cowboy hat!

#1 Palmon

SHE’S A LITTLE FLOWER LADY AND SHE’S PRECIOUS.

Her voice acting was some of my favourite in the series so far, having little voice cracks and just generally being so full of character. She’s an amazing foil to Mimi, not only in occasionally challenging her views and ideals but going along with them at the same time, when they’re not actively harmful. And then that one time when they were. Plus her in that little dress that one time! And wearing Mimi’s hat??? Truly the fashion icon we need in these trying times.

Honourable Mentions

Gabumon and Matt Ishida - They were pretty cool, I liked their whole Friendship thing (especially the Inspiring Crest Emotion being inspired by the Digimon partner and not one of the other kids for once!) but I couldn’t really get behind their reasoning for attacking Tai and going off on their own.

Gomamon - his face goes :3 and that makes me go :3

TK Takaishi - For a little kid, he sure steps the fuck up when nobody else will, huh? There’s something endearing and naive about the youngest one, knowing the least about the situation and the world at large, adapting the best because he’s just not as experienced in the Real World as the other kids, so he’s got less of a frame of reference to place it in. Actually, this all applies to Kari Kamiya as well.

Dishonourable Mentions

Hoo boy, this is gonna be controversial.

Tai Kamiya.

I don’t hate the guy, really. I’ve got his Funko Pop* and everything! But he’s got that Anime Protagonist Syndrome down pat, including centering his own problems over all others, taking the lead when nobody really asked him to, and being kind of a dick. I’ve definitely touched on that before, but come on, Tai, punching is not the solution to all your problems. At least he (sometimes) learns his lesson about it, like with the Skullgreymon thing.

I’ve really got nothing against Agumon either, I like his voice acting as well. But he just wasn’t as interesting to me as the others were, or as much as some of his expies in the future will be.

Hint. Hint.

*I’ve also got Spyro and Sparx, Gay Batman, and Tiabeanie in a wedding dress :)

#digimon #digimon anime #digimon adventure #auto plays digimon #auto watches digimon adventure #character analysis

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walkingshcdow-a · 3 years

Note

Ok like W for Finnegan but I guess I want to know more what he wants from a wedding

Valentine’s Day Alphabet | Not Accepting!

W : WEDDING. would your muse get married? why / why not?

Yes, he would get married, and that shouldn’t surprise you, not in the least because our muses get married. I know we’ve touched on (lmaooo) the importance of a legacy to Finnegan. Even if he didn’t fall in love, he’d probably get married in order to raise a family. The idea of having a partner to help with the domestic chores of parenthood appeals to him, even if he would be willing to go it alone. He doesn’t exactly love the idea of marrying some “empty headed” celebutante to make her his countess, though, and so he’s very, very choosy about who he might marry if he doesn’t marry for love. When he does marry for love, as he does when he marries Victor, he’s much, much happier but it terrifies him because he hasn’t been that happy in his life and new emotions are exhilarating but frightening.

Somehow, I don’t think that’s the question you’re asking.

When it comes to what sort of wedding Finnegan wants, he wants a lavish wedding with beautiful and meticulously planned details. He also wants it to be extremely intimate - maybe fewer than 100 people, even when he marries someone he wants to show off as badly as he wants to show off Victor, because he knows that weddings are private, tender, vulnerable moments and if he could get away just sharing that with his betrothed, he would. If Finnegan can’t perfectly craft his image, he won’t publicize what he’s doing and I guarantee you he’s a wreck on his wedding day and not in a “cute, soft, uwu” way. He will spend the wedding day bossing everyone around up until he has to be at the altar, where he will take a break to gaze lovingly at his new spouse, before going to the reception where he’s going to be bossing people around again. He doesn’t have romanticized notions of what he wants his Perfect Wedding to be, per se, but he knows exactly what he wants and has a file or digital folder of inspiration photographs that he’s been accumulating without much intensity for a decade or so, since his friends started getting married. He likes very clean lines (idk if you saw the debacle about Finnegan and flowers but he means something very specific) and modern-classic looks. I don’t think his ideal wedding is very “personalized” by other people’s standards tbh. It looks how a wedding “should” look. I think if you pitched a more personalized want for the wedding, he’d find a way to incorporate it and make it blend in seamlessly with his original ideas. The aesthetic is important, but flexible. It isn’t so much a certain theme that he wants to get across as the image of class and perfection.

If we’re dealing with a love match, which you and I are, I think it’s important to note that the most important thing to Finnegan is getting personalized vows written and spoken in such a way that actually conveys the breadth and depth of his love. He’s spent his entire life, certainly his entire adult life, speaking in half-truths and eloquent sound bytes that don’t reveal to much. In a love match, he wants his partner and all 100 people in attendance to know on no uncertain terms that this is the person he’s chosen and the person he will choose every day going forward and that he loves them more than he realized it was possible to love another human being. I think until he meets Victor that person, he doesn’t realize how important this part is for him to get right.

He also thinks the rings are really important because you’ll have to wear them for the rest of your lives. I think he proposes (or, lbr, reproposes) to Victor with a family heirloom ring as a symbol: you are my family. However, when it comes to their actual wedding bands, he wants them to both pick out pieces that they want and chose for themselves. And I think, actually, in all other ships (including any other love matches in the future), he goes this route for rings. If he’s committing to wear something forever, he wants to like it and he wants his partner to like theirs, too.

Lastly, I know this is specific to Victor: Finnegan thinks the kiss and the first dance are IMPORTANT AF because these are some of the first times he’s able to publicly kiss and and dance with Victor and be able to say “This man is mine. I love him above all others and will be with him for the rest of my days.” in demonstratively affectionate ways. Please, just let Finnegan hold Victor in public. It’s all he’s wanted for a very long time.

#;;from the third richest family in england | {finnegan}#;;headcanon | {finnegan}#x. asks #x. meme response #((is this what you wanted?))#((I wasn't sure so I covered many bases))#morpheoussilvercreature

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twilightvolt · 4 years

Photo

And so, another year has come to pass.....almost. ^ ^

Remember when i said i was branching away from Digimon back when i drew up Venom fanart? y’know, “I wanted to be more than what i used to be.” that being “a Digimon artist.”

2019 was basically just that. lots and lots and LOTS of fandom hopping.

If last year was me recovering from the pain and crippling anxiety of 2017, then this year was me finally getting up again, learning to stand up and live for myself rather than in fear of those i shouldn’t care about anymore. life still hasn’t been too kind to me even though, compared to last year, we’re in a better space. but i’ll get into more detail about that while i go through everything month by month on the clock.

Before we begin, if you’d like to see the previous years, here’s the links!

2018:https://twilightvolt.tumblr.com/post/181732950569/i-kinda-was-saving-this-for-when-i-had-the-time-to

2017:https://twilightvolt.tumblr.com/post/171806337539/a-3-month-late-art-summary-featuring-art-that-i

Might wanna grab your popcorn, my dudes. this is a long one.

January: On the Web

Coming out of 2018, things were pretty ok if i remember. i don’t remember much from this month aside from a few doodles i did like this one from when Spiderverse was the hottest thing. this was one of the last things i drew in my old style. before i decided to officially change things up in the next month.

February: Gotta Kick it Up

Pokemon Sword & Shield were announced and things were hype! oh, how things soured as the months went by. lol

But yeah, this was me taking that experimental sketchy pencil style from that Smash Bros. drawing and rolling with it all the way! it’s become my new go-to style and even though it’s still hella sketchy at times, i feel like it looks better in comparison to my old ink outlined drawings.

March: The Overdrive Dweebanoids

Oh right. my old Ben 10 phase that lasted for a millisecond in 2016 returned with a vengeance. and it was glorious. lmao

It spawned an AU that i didn’t delve into much, but if i ever get that spark for my favorite alien watch bearer, i’ll get back to it.

April: True Blue Lizard Bois

My Ben 10 streak continues and i was crankin’ out art left and right for it. i luved all the “doodle dumps” i made, but this drawing was wholesome and i picked it because of that.

To some extent, this could be a comparison between my past and my present. that being Overdrive!Ben being what, at the time, was my current obsession while Digimon!Vivi was a representation of where i used to be, back when i was starting out and entering Digimon OCTs on Deviantart.

May: Return to the Realm of Sleep ~HD ReMIX

Now THIS i feel was one of the grandest drawings i’ve done this year. hell, i even made a wallpaper out of it.

like, it was just a redraw of an old drawing from 2017. but to me, it was a way to tell me just how far i’ve come since then. and i couldn’t be happier.

This was also the month i rebooted my DA after a long time of inactivity!

....Iiiit didn’t really work much, but i’m still working on it. though i highly doubt it’s worth it considering most of the ones i used to hang with there are either people i don’t wanna associate with or people who left while i was gone. seriously, it’s a ghost town there.

June: Art Fight 2019 ~Dreams Vs. Nightmares~

Ahh, my second year of Art Fight. for this year’s event, i wanted to be a tad more grandiose. like drawing up this banner. i like being extra and stuff even if it kills my drawing hand, so yeah. lmao

...

Florida thunderstorms are friggin’ terrifying. idk HOW anyone can get used to that.

July: - BREAK DOWN -

Oookay, it was hard picking my favorite attack this year cuz i pretty much was satisfied with all of them. but i had to go with this attack because the artist i drew it for was someone i really admired for years and i’m just happy i could finally have an opportunity to draw them something. like, i luv how it came out, so yeah.

This was also the month i forced myself to finally do the thing and let go of the constant fear i felt towards certain people i used to hang with. while remembering 2017 will never NOT hurt, i can’t let that fear rule over me forever. i have to take control and not let it stop me from doing what i want. and that’s exactly what i did.

August: Ricky ~Sapphire, Emerald and AlphaSapphire

Oh yeah! after Art Fight ended, i returned to Pokemon randomly cuz i wanted to go back to my roots for a moment. revamping Ricky, formerly Ragna, and Yagami was something i’ve been meaning to do for awhile and it reignited a waning love for a series i started growing distant towards since Gen VII.

I used to really like Ricky’s old design even though i barely ever used him. but i guess this just shows how much more original i’ve gotten in terms of character design. ^ ^

September: Heartbeat Inferno

Now, i haven’t really talked much about what’s been going on life wise for most of this post, but trust me when i say irl, things weren’t really.....happening. like, it’s hard when you live (or rather, lived now) in a place with little job opportunity and you have NO experience whatsoever. the lack of progression must’ve hit something in me, so the week i drew this was me just....shifting moods, feeling everything at once. one day i’d be agitated as hell, the next i’d be so depressed i took a some odd hour nap and didn’t wanna get out of bed. like, for most of this year, i haven’t felt this stressed out and frustrated with myself. so this sudden crash was kind of....unwelcome.

But this drawing was a fresh change though, if i’m being honest. i’m not usually this uncaring about how clean the coloring job is, but i like it! i’d choose that other drawing i did for my friends’ birthdays, Skirmish at the Cable Club, but this one had a more personal drive behind it.

October: - PAPERMOON -

beastarsbeastarsbeASTARSBEASTARS--*COUGH COUGH AHEM* I MEAN....hai. :D

Continuing with my Pokemon shenanigans, i drew this big piece which was something i had in my head for years now, but never actually acted upon it cuz i always felt it was too big of an idea to work on. i’m happy i’ve managed to capture what i envisioned originally.

As for interests, i’m sure most of my current followers can deduce that i quickly shifted gears to Beastars as soon as the anime was released and so far, i regret nothing. it’s spawned a metric butt ton of new art from me and the way i see it, this phase ain’t stopping as long as this series continues. brace yourselves fam, i believe i’ve finally found the successor to my Digimon phase. lmao

Like, damn, i had a tough time choosing art for this month. i was stuck between this, - SMILE/WILD SIDE - and Slip Into Madness. so many good drawings i was satisfied with, y’know?

November: The Future is Now

I was SO planning on putting something else here, but then suddenly i just kinda had this urge to redraw that uggo gouache painting of Miyagi from highschool. and it turned out so good that i had to. like, really. lmao

As with the redraw of Dream Drop Digital’s key art, it was a reminder of how far i’ve come since then art wise. and i feel like i’ve accomplished so much this year because of it. ;w;

December: Winter Lights

And now we’re back to the present time. after over a year or so of living in Florida, we’ve moved once again back up north a bit. yet another clean slate, but things seem to be looking up despite the rather large bumps in the road the past week or so. lately i’ve been feeling that seasonal depression starting to set in, but i think i’ll be fine as long as i stay positive. cuz y’know, it’s not being happy all the time. it’s just knowing that things will get better someday.

One of the other reasons i drew this drawing was cuz i REALLY wanted to have something Beastars related on this clock. this series (and Legoshi in particular) really inspired me, so i had to leave a wedge open for my boi.

Looking back at the beginning of this decade (as 2020 would mark the next one), i realized that the 2010′s were basically me becoming more artsy. finding enjoyment for a new hobby that quickly became something i’m now more passionate about than video games which i didn’t think would EVER be the case.

Funny enough, it all started in the RP section of a little forum for an MMO called Wizard101. i was only in middle school at the time and, to tell you the truth, i had no idea i’d be going at it for this long. thought i’d just do it on the side but not really delve into the art world more.

But despite all the trips and falls, fandom drama or otherwise, i wouldn’t change anything if it meant i wouldn’t have the friends who’ve stuck by me in the aftermath of those times.

I may not be really succeeding in much, but it’s the small steps in life that matter most in the end. these past few months in particular was me getting fed up with feeling sorry for myself for not doing the things i was interested in in the past, getting over my regret and making plans for starting something new even though i know i’ll suck at first and not worrying so much about how others might perceive me.

And just like how life was changing for our resident grey wolf this first season, mine seems to be doing the same. and i believe this decade ended on a better note than i thought it would during the past couple years leading up to this.

Here’s to a new decade! ^ ^

~ For a future I want to believe in. ~

#art meme #summary of art #2019 summary of art #year end reflections #2010's reflections #rambles

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sturlsons · 5 years

Text

french in 1.5 years anon

Kinda random but I just found out that I’ll be required to be intermediate/advanced in French by the next 1.5 years; ALL I KNOW IS THAT MEIRDE IS A BAD BAD WORD! Idk if you’re a native speaker but I was wondering if you could provide me of any good French language resources (or language in general since I’ll be needing to learn Arabic soon as well), and like tips for language learning and how to go about it? Sorry to bother you haha this is MY stress but I appreciate any help! Have a great day!

HEY. so i really fucking dropped the ball on this one, i’m sorry. 2019 has been one health fiasco after another (or more like the same fiasco again and again) and i kept telling myself i want to sit down and make a proper post for this, until i realised that that’s just never going to happen given the way things are rn. and i’d rather give you a quickly-written post which is actually helpful than never write that perfect bullet-pointed one.

first of all, i’ve been in your EXACT position (so no, i’m not a native speaker) except i had about...six months to go from je m’appelle teesta to voyez-vous, le problème qui se cache derrière tout ça n’est pas le manque de respect mais la personne dont il s’agit or whatever. i was like, i can so do this. (spoiler: i didn’t, because i was 18 and overconfident and stupid and didn’t actually know how to learn a language.) GOOD NEWS: having learned 3 more foreign languages since then, i am now REALLY GOOD at learning languages REALLY FAST. 1.5 years is a good amount of time, so don’t stress.

i’m going to go generic on this, with some extra tips about french since i speak it, unlike arabic.

first thing, that typical thing everyone hates to hear but knows is coming from the mouth of an accomplished person (pat on my back) in any field whatsoever: you’re going to have to work really hard and practice like fuck.

there’s just nothing else that can replace it. i’ve filled up notebooks and notebooks with japanese verb conjugations, once i did like 1800 of them in one sitting. but you better believe that a bitch will never forget those now. resign yourself to putting in at least three hours of your day to this until you get to the level you need. (and three hours is...kind. at my peak i was literally reading through french dictionaries at the library, 10 AM - 8 PM. i treated it like a workday.)

now, what you need to establish is: are you a hands-on learner or a digital one.

i don’t really care for all the auditory learner and visual learner stuff, i don’t know about anyone else but i personally used those as excuses to avoid certain exercises. unless you have actual disabilities preventing you from accessing certain methods of learning, you can train yourself into anything. it’s a matter of practice. i could barely understand a new song without reading its lyrics first, now i eat up podcasts.

SO. the question here is different. a hands-on learner, like i used to be more or less throughout my bachelor’s, is someone who absolutely cannot retain information unless they’ve written it down BY HAND at least once. pen and paper. (i’m still like this but i’ve learned to combine it with digital methods to go faster.) if this isn’t a hurdle for you, congratulations. your process is going to go that much faster, at least for french. (you’ll have to spend hours practicing your written arabic however, if you’re not familiar with the script.)

now, if you’re a hands-on learner, you need to add an extra hour to your daily time. no matter how fast you write, you will take that time. and you cannot shorthand your way into languages. you need to understand how french is spelt, what accents it uses, that they put a space before exclamation points, question marks, and semicolons. (side tip: learn the IPA. it will be useful to you forever in language learning, at least for the romance languages.) i’m not gonna teach you how to make notes since i’ve never benefitted from copying someone else’s style, so if you don’t have a set method start establishing that. you need regularity and rhythm when you learn a language. my grammar notes look the same regardless of the language. i don’t have my french ones since it’s been years and i didn’t take good ones then anyway, but here’s my japanese and russian stuff.

JAPANESE NOTES // RUSSIAN NOTES

now, it bears mentioning that these notes are NOT the notes i take when i don’t know shit. these are final level notes. they’re brief, idiosyncratic, and only reminders. something to refer to when i’m revising and suddenly forget a rule. the first notes i make are much more elaborate, whether they’re pretty or not. i’ve gradually lost the fucks i had about really going ham on academics so my russian notes are very messy, but my japanese ones from back in the day are magnificent. here’s a look. during lesson one i realised that japanese and my mother tongue, gujarati, are syntaxically similar as shit, and i started taking notes with references in gujarati. it sped up my learning process 2x while my french classmates were still going “BUT WHY IS IT LIKE THAT”.

PRACTICAL GRAMMAR // THEORETICAL GRAMMAR

if you plan to learn more languages in the future, this will be so valuable. sometimes a phrase i learn in russian doesn’t make sense in its french explanation, but a phrase in english might use the same logic. bam, put down the translation in english then. you get what i’m saying? the more languages you learn, the easier it gets to learn languages.

now if you’re a digital learner, i’ve got great news for you. duolingo and anki are your best friends. duolingo’s memed to hell and has a system that might not work for everyone, but they’ll do the brunt work of compiling grammar notes for you in the beginnings/ends of their lessons. note those down and transform them into anki flashcards, and you can learn grammar concepts without doing 20 exercises. (do those exercises if you can, though, nothing beats mindless practice.) now anki is an intimidating-looking but actually super intuitive app that basically builds digital flashcards for you and shows them to you in a rhythm based on your own learning speed. it’ll show you the front of a card, let’s say merde. you say the english translation out loud, shit, and hit enter. correct! was that easy? anki’ll show it to you in 10 minutes. hard? it’ll show you in 1 minute. super easy? merde won��t come up again until tomorrow. eventually you get so good at it that you can bury a card for 2 months. anki will also show you the same cards reversed, which is harder but trains you better. you’ll see shit and have to remember what it’s called in french, which is more difficult than you’d think it is.

you can use anki for more than just vocab, like i mentioned. it’s a little tricky learning to convert grammar concepts into front/back flashcards, but you can do it. for example, here’s a sample of one of my russian grammar cards:

front ^^

back once i hit enter^^

see? not that difficult. now don’t be an idiot like me who manually entered every single flashcard into anki. you can find pre-made packages online (but you can’t guarantee they’ll be correct) or you can make your own without killing your fingers. what you wanna do is open up a spreadsheet and make two columns, A for front of the card and B for back. it’ll look like this:

then you’re gonna save that spreadsheet as a .CVS (comma separated values) and import that into anki. bam, your flashcards are made for you with half the effort. there’s also a script floating around somewhere to make excel translate words automatically for you, but i don’t recommend that unless they’re really easy words. google translate can fuck up. reverso is your friend.

you need to review your anki cards every day. it’ll take less and less time as you go along. i can review 300 russian cards in 15 minutes now. but you need to keep the rhythm going. download ankiapp and sync your cards, review them on commutes or in the hallway or whatever. trust me, it’s magic.

apart from this, if a traditional textbook helps, go for that. i’ve always used textbooks and workbooks, more as supports than as principal methods, but it does help. it’s structured and organised and these people know how to train you. bescherelle is a good go-to for french.

media is always a great way of immersion too, until you get to the country itself. it’ll show you how french people speak french. when i first came to france i didn’t have that experience and even though i spoke an arguably decent amount of french when i got here, it was like, if this is french then what the fuck was i learning in high school. if you like watching movies this is your chance. watch the classics first so that you can get an idea of french pop culture. amélie (though the pop culture aspect here is about shitting on it) and les intouchables, for starters. watch your favourite films, first subbed, then subbed and dubbed, then just dubbed. i watched all ten seasons of friends with french subs, it was wild. with music you want to start off with some indie-ish singers since they will universally sing softer and slower, making things easier to understand than idk, la tribu de dana. (if you’re into bts there’s a hilarious video of their baepsae choreo set to la tribu de dana.) anyway - angèle, cœur de pirate, céline dion, fréro delavega, uhhh that fucking french sufjan stevens. what’s his name. VIANNEY. don’t fucking listen to biglo and oli or like, fatal bazooka right away. you will not understand shit. i barely understand it. white people are wild. ooh listen to stromae. orelsan too, he’s a rapper but he has a relatively clean diction imo. he also sang the french opening for OPM. they call him orelsan-san in japan.

last but not the least: if you have the opportunity to interact in french with people, DO IT. native speakers will do their best to help you and be kind about it. people who learned french might sometimes be assholes from experience. it’s a whole superiority complex thing, and very hypocritical. anyway - online or IRL, wherever you can practice your french, do it. it’ll be immensely helpful. there’s nothing like the frustration of not being able to express simple things to get you motivated to get better. do your best to immerse yourself - changing the language on your devices can make a difference too.

i think that’s all i have and again, i’m sorry for taking this long to finally deliver, thanks for your patience! if you have any specific questions don’t hesitate to hit me up, on anon or not.

good luck - it’s not going to be the easiest but nothing is as gratifying as beginning to understand the workings of a language. you’re gonna love it!

#teesta talks for ts #uni tag #anons #replies

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the-textbased-jiaqiverse · 5 years

Text

[Start of Log 073]

Log 073: The Cigar

*sighs* This is my fault... well not all my fault! Why do I have this story to tell today you may ask—if you may ask I mean—it all begins with John and James.

Yes, I write and save little love letters and love poems to Dice, yes, I do that ok? Just dunno how to up and say it to him sometimes... but I think he might have read them though, somehow... I probably deleted thousands of drafts and stuff. Hey why do I mention stuff I deleted? Well...

I needed this file from our archive, I needed John and James to pull it out, what happened is that I wanted to get it as fast as possible so I forwarded these wishes to John and James, I didn’t want to hang around them when it seemed like they always have the words *quotes*“we want to embarrass you BADLY” written on their faces recently. Right, I told them to look for file 021125, and observed them type in 155... not a joke! 115 oops, 155! I was like, “I was NOT telling you how many of these numbers are there, it’s 1 zero, 1 two, 2 ones, then 1 two and 1 five!” It was when they literally typed in 1012211215 that I realized they were trying to stall me, and well, build tension for something they possibly waited for a long time to do. I didn’t want none of that crap, so I shouted, “just type this in! Digit by digit alright?!! 0, 2, 1, 1, 2, 5!” That was easy right? No they entered sloth mode!

“0”, yes you typed zero, hooray! Now go for two, that’s right, it’s right there, look IT’S RIGHT THERE! Just put your finger on it, no no no why are you now pointing to 1, I said 2!! Oh that’s right now you’re there, type 2, 2, 2!!!!!!

“2” oh thank God! Now go for 1, yes 1, no not 0 NO NO NO! Ok yes, 1, yes. Should I remind you of the next three numbers? Because at this rate when you finished typing the 1 you would’ve forgotten the next three numbers already!

“1” on second thought, if I reminded you the 125 you might just mess up the entire file number so we have to start over if I can guess what you are thinking. WAIT WHY ARE YOU GOING TO 0? Look you don’t have to start from 0 and move to the number every flipping time!

“1” this is an eternity! Wait is it just me or did you slow down? Can you be ANY slower than you were just now? Apparently yes! OMG I can feel my life flash in front of my eyes. I still have so much to do and so much to fix! Have I told Dice that I loved him?

“2” if it wasn’t for the little screen with the search bar I would have forgotten where we were at myself! ............................................................

*reenacts the scene himself* “5” FINALLY!!! Now you just have to click “search”... wait a sec...... UUUUUUUUHHHHHH!!!!! They can still drag this on!!!!!!

*keeps reenacting* right so John finally clicks “search”, and the file shows up right? So I directed, “tap on it!”, so the file would be extracted, but........... how does one accidentally click on the delete button while opening up the file??!!! Especially when you are made to do things for us with precision and elegance?!

*reenacts the convo* “Hey boozoos! You know I would go to Dice about your, INCOMPETENCE right?” “Aw chill out, don’t go yet, we can still recover the file,” John said it without a thread of dread, so I know something had to be amiss, because they are usually scared of Dice hearing about them messing with me. “JUST GET ME THE FILE!!!” “Ok Boss,” but recovers something else, “oh what’s this? ‘Dice, not a moment passes without me thinking of your soft skin, oh how I longed to have you in my arms!’ What is this cringe Boss? Oh and, ‘you are life’s greatest gift for me’, why is this in the trash Boss? Little pieces like ‘when you and I are alone I gained my own piece of heaven,’ why this cringe Boss? You know practically everyone working in this casino can see this, don’t you? Why don’t you report your little works of art to Mr. King Dice too?”

I practically broke into Dice’s office after that!

Dice just stared at me knowingly and said, “it was John and James again wasn’t it?” I almost cried and I thought it would be very clever to say “Dice you love me right?” And confess that I wrote some cringeworthy stuff about us two, just before I let Dice get back to work... probably became one of the reasons why Mr. Wheezy turned out like this...

I thought Dice couldn’t look more dumbfounded than he did then—when I confessed, but I had a whole new idea after seeing his reaction to Wheezy’s nonsense.

So, Wheezy’s first day on the job. I actually liked him a lot, Wheezy is really just a simple guy, he fit right in with our existing staff, he is very down to earth, everyone liked him. The best part? Wheezy is not trying to play tricks all the time like John and James would do, he was so enthusiastic and was very good at his job. I heard from James that Wheezy threw that arson rat out long before he got mad and torched our property again, just because he thought that guy didn’t feel right. Wheezy was lit, literally. Every one of our employees cheered for him.

Huh... you know, why would Dice light that stupid cigar right? Probably because of the fact that he was really distracted by my cringe stuff...

I was happy about all Wheezy’s hard work, but James up and said that guy was for some reason very off, and I should keep a good eye on him. At the time I even teased James, “Aww you probably thought he’s off because you are jealous that I liked him more than you and John, Wheezy listens to me without trouble at least, UNLIKE YOU TWO, haww-hawww, be jealous pal, be very jealous.” I should have paid attention when he said, *impersonates, reenacts the tone of urgency* “I am not joking around this time, I’m being serious! John thinks so too.” But I didn’t think much of it, I mean, Wheezy’s perfect as long as he does whatever Dice and I wanted him to do without overthinking or messing around, the casino is never this in order—something would always go wrong with those costumers—this peace and quiet is all thanks to Wheezy kicking the rat out. I seriously thought Wheezy is like a lucky charm! Why didn’t I realize that those days could have been just some of our quieter days.

Wheezy ended up not being very busy, then he apparently wanted to just walk around and find somethings that he can lend a hand to. He did find something...

Right after offering to heat Mangosteen’s dinner, which is NOT part of his job, Wheezy found out Pip and Dot had a gas leak going on in their room, he volunteered to fix the issue, which is also NOT part of his job. Needless to say, lit cigar plus gas right?

BOOOOOOOOM!!!!!

Now I get it! Wheezy is trying way too hard to do ALL the jobs just because he might want to feel validated and he liked that feeling.

Dice told me later that night that he intended to be calm and collected when he had to talk to Wheezy about how half our staff quarters exploded, but he just can’t hold it in... when Wheezy accidentally made a pun. He tried his best to calm himself again and explained why the explosion happened to Wheezy—Wheezy had no idea why!—he has to explain as best as he can. It seemed that Wheezy did understand, and he said he would stay far away from future gas leaks. After all this Dice is just completely and utterly exhausted.

As we were drifting off to sleep, Dice got a call and this is when his jaw just dropped, that was the most dumbfounded he had ever appeared to be. John and James were tasked to fix the gas leak, clean up and restore our staff’s rooms, that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes, but somehow in that little interval of time mangosteen was just UNBEARABLY hungry and wanted more food, mind you he had dinner—the dinner Wheezy heated for him remember?! His room was one of those that was completely taken out by the explosion, and he can’t wait 5 minutes. So being the good *ironic*“resourceful” person he is, Wheezy offered to heat a can of food from his room for Mangosteen, HHHHHHH...... HAHAHAHAHA, I shouldn’t be laughing but, let’s describe it with Wheezy’s own words like how John did on the call, *clears throat* “I read the label on that can, it said ‘DO NOT PUT CAN IN MICROWAVE OVEN’, so I poured out the food into my metal pot and put that into the microwave, I’m not stupid.”... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... and then “Well of course I put the metal pot in there too! Geez I’m not going to just put the food in there silly” And the microwave caught on fire, our staff tried to put it out but it didn’t work, so now the remaining half of their quarters is gone as well, John and James didn’t even know how to tell us about that! After 1 minute of silence Dice finally told them to split up, keep an eye on everyone as the other quickly rebuild everything, otherwise no one would get any rest at all. Guess who got no rest in the end, Dice, he was so... shocked, he spent this whole night making this group of cigarettes to “assist” Wheezy—actually to keep him under close watch.

Fast forward to yesterday, 3 days after the last gas leak incident.

Everyone got along just well, especially Wheezy and the cigarettes, they bonded like brothers. They are like heroes to the majority of our staff, lending helping hands and keeping potential troublemakers away. You think everyone would hate Wheezy’s guts after what happened with their quarters right? Apparently not... For some reason. This time they really want to impress Dice and I, maybe to make up for the fact that they made such a mess, or get more validation, idk. The problem is that they went to an extreme length. They were everywhere, and they are *quotes*“nice” to the point that it’s intimidating! Once, Wheezy and two cigarettes actually followed Dice into the washroom and asked if he needed assistance there, I didn’t hear that part at that time but I did hear a loud “EXCUSE ME?!!” from Dice. I dragged them out and nearly beat them dead. Dice stopped me, why Dice I should’ve beat them dead so they wouldn’t cause all this trouble yesterday! At that time Dice probably wanted to believe that they’re just not clever enough and we have to patiently explain EVERYTHING to them, including personal boundaries, and what their jobs actually include.

John and James couldn’t focus on their jobs because they spent so much energy on watching the cigarettes, still had that lingering doubt about them. You see, John and James didn’t check the pressure of our gas lines or something and there was an even bigger leak starting out from our basement. Guess what, being the room closest to the basement, Pip and Dot’s room is once again filled with the smell of gas, and they just assumed there’s a leak in their room again. What did they do may I ask? Did they go to John or James, or Dice, or me with the problem? NO, they turned to their group of friends, which unfortunately includes Wheezy......

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!!!!!!!

Half of our casino was gone with the blast!

And yeah... we somehow managed to be calm enough to clean ourselves up and have a late dinner like nothing stupid happened.

I checked with everyone, and imagine my surprise when I found John and James working alone on rebuilding the casino. Then it hit me, I really haven’t seen Wheezy and his cigarettes!

This is what I found them doing...

At that point it was already late, and Dice was still covered in ashes, I had to pull him away from the situation because I can clearly see that they are not on the same page.

It was then I found out from Dice, that he found out from our staff, that Wheezy did want to dive headfirst into the gas again! Wheezy completely forgot about the last incident and what Dice tried to tell him! Which means he had to repeat all that once again... Luckily the little cigarettes stopped him and reminded him that HE cannot go near the gas leak and Wheezy was all “yeah yeah yeah”. According to our staff the cigarettes also prevented him from putting metal into the microwave YET AGAIN, so thumbs up for them there. Then why was there still an explosion? That’s because Wheezy worked his magic and convinced one of the cigarettes to go repair the leak in his place! Why not ANYONE ELSE? I DON’T KNOW! It was then I knew stupidity is probably contagious... all I need to say is, that little cigarette that went in is of course, lit!

Now I get it, saying Wheezy is not allowed to fix gas leaks was not enough, we have to address each and every cigarette and tell them they are not allowed to do so as well! But what’s weird about this is that while this time Dice tried to tell them all that they can’t help with a gas leak, because they are lit cigarettes, Wheezy just blew into this sudden rage and exploded about how being cigarettes didn’t mean that they can’t help and he didn’t like how Dice kept thinking cigarettes are not good enough. Then he called Dice every name in the Inkwell version of a dictionary. This came out of nowhere whatsoever! Did something ridiculous just click to him somehow? We never said or indicated ANYTHING like that to them right? Knowing Wheezy he probably wasn’t trying to, or plainly couldn’t make this kind of a joke for laughs, he basically accused Dice of thinking all that. The biggest issue is that Dice couldn’t get them to understand that they took what he is saying wrong, therefore the conversation went between Dice talking about how scientifically, LIT cigarettes can’t mix with gas, and Wheezy taking that and applying that to all things unrelated and believing further and further that Dice is just not willing to give him this pet on his back no matter what he does, because of an unrelated reason, so Wheezy hates an idea that he gets out of whatever Dice is trying to say even when that’s clearly not what he meant AT ALL, and he feels the overwhelming need to attack Dice for it. UHH!! Wow I wish I listen to John and James, I mean they were right about most people!

Hey I hope Wheezy snaps out of this eventually right?

[End of Log 073]

Lmao when Mr. Wheezy says “I’m not stupid” and proceeds to tell someone else that they’re “silly” after burning his microwave oven

Inkwell version insults, what would all of those be like?

Piece the timeline together (use hints like the log numbers and certain contents), otherwise it wouldn’t make sense how one minute Wheezy hated KD then the next he worshiped him

There’s a follow-up to this!

#cuphead #cuphead don’t deal with the devil #cuphead fanfic #cutscene characters #skeletons #king dice #cuphead king dice #cuphead devil #snake eyes #cuphead snake eyes #devil dice #mr wheezy #cuphead mr wheezy #hocus pocus #phear lap

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