#the strongest memories are tied to smell

[imagine-lcorp]

Perfect Sense (Part I)

Request

Soulmate AU, please? (With A/B/O you're comfortable?) Fem!Reader (or Gender-Neutral) hasn't experienced much in her life, other than the experiments CADMUS had done to her shapeshifting powers. All she knew of the world outside the facility was what she'd learnt in the stories a sympathetic scientist would sometimes tell her when she was still a kid, to calm her down during testing. After 2 decades the scientist had enough and helped her escape, landing her in the arms of another Luthor.

A/N: Aaaand here another request you guys, writing a few fics in parts due to how long they get to be at the end. Thank you to the lovely person that sent this one, I'm sorry it's been ages, i still hope you can enjoy it. Love you guys

Lena Luthor x Fem!R/Shapeshifter//Word Count: 2,413

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"Subject C-308, ready for testing." A voice sounded through the speakers of the room and immediately the lights went on, blinding your eyes.

You couldn't use your hands to cover your face. They were tied to your sides with restrains to the medical bed you were laying on. It was the same with your feet, where the restraints were even tighter. Silhouettes started to moved and hoover above you, all covered in masks, blue suits and white gloves, looking down at you.

"Phase one of Project Lykaon, subject C-308, ready for intervention." A deep voice, from one of the silhouettes said. "All things set. Ready to start protocol."

"Initiate procedure." The same voice of the speakers sounded and the figures above you started to move.

You would have wished to tell them about the lights, how bright they were and how they hurt your eyes. About the ties around your wrists and feet, how uncomfortable they were, but the gag in your mouth didn't allow it and before you could even think of making a sound, it all went dark.

That was one of the first memories you ever had in your life, and it looked almost the same for the rest of it. It was all uncomfortable restrains and chains, white walls and white lights, the constant smell of antiseptic and cleaning products, knives, syringes, and endless surgical procedures. With no contact outside four walls of that place that felt more like a cage.

A cage fit to held the animal you were sure you were becoming.

After each intervention, after each transformation, with this savage instinct inside of you always in the edge of taking control. You were more beast than human, they used to say and you almost believed them.

But Dr. Jeremiah wouldn't have any of it. He was a different memory, a kinder, softer reminder that you were indeed human. The only person to ever treat you with compassion.

Before your interventions, on those terrible moments when you felt the anger and fear building up inside of you, threatening to tear to shreds anyone that dared come near you, he would come to talk you down. Dr. Jeremiah seemed to understand, how you would have done anything to put a stop to it. The numbness, the tiredness, the overwhelming sensations and pain that came each time after you were taken out of your room. But he would talk to you, speaking softly, assuring you you were going to be just fine, because you were stronger than you thought.

He would come after the operations to check up on you, sitting beside your bed with a worried expression, telling you stories about what awaited for you in the outside world, a world that was bigger than an operations room and your own. A world full of wonders like grass, sunsets, the sunshine, flowers, snow, and love. Whatever those things were.

"What's love?" You have asked once. He had paused then and thought for a long moment.

"Love is when two souls find and want each other." He had explained.

"What's a soul?" You asked then.

"It's something inside of you. The strongest part of you, (Y/N)" He smiled, only he called you with a name. "Your soul is everything you feel, and when you feel something so strong for someone else that means you have found your soulmate."

"A soulmate." You have whispered and frowned, still unsure of that idea.

"You will know it when you see them. It will feel as if you have known them all your life and everything you have been through will make sense." At that moment you had been too young to understand what he meant, but you would do it in due time.

Years passed, you became older but he kept telling you those stories. The ones you liked more where about the people. People that didn't hurt others just because they had the power to do it. He would even speak highly of one scientist he knew, so different from the ones you had met so far. A woman he had met time ago, someone so kind and loving that you liked to imagine her sometimes too and dream about meeting her in the outside world, to finally know something else apart from the nightmare that was being trapped there.

The dream came true a decade later, when you had grown up so much that it took them more and more people to control you. Dr. Jeremiah had been right, you were stronger and even stronger than they thought you were. That was one of the few joys you had then, besides the stories Dr. Jeremiah retold for you. Your powers grew too, the size of your body as you transformed, the length of your claws and teeth, the range of your sense of smell, the vision of your eyes. More powerful than the child you had been once.

Still, it wasn't enough for them.

"I think you enjoy your time with her a little too much, doctor." The voice of a woman caught your attention as you tried to fight the numbness of the strong sedatives.

You had been injected after being taken to the testing room, after finding out you could take three men with a single swing of one of your clawed hands, to keep you under control.

"I'm just trying to be comforting. Seems to help with her neural responses." Dr. Jeremiah was as indifferent as he could be.

"Well, you won't have to worry about that for much longer." The satisfaction in that woman's voice was noticeable and also the way you seemed to respond to her, with a terrible feeling of submission that was difficult to shake compared to any other people. You never felt like that in the presence of Dr. Jeremiah. "Project Lykaon has been terminated. She will be taken to another facility, and you can perform her last surgical procedure if you are that attached to her."

"Are you sure you want to dispose the only test subject that has survived all the interventions, Lilian?" His word came with a hint of outrage and concern. "With her powers she could still-"

"I spent too many resources already on this project, doctor. Besides, she's still incapable of following directives from her superiors, even when she seems compliant at first. And we can't do much with only one successful specimen, can we?" The woman cut him off and there was a moment of silence before she spoke again. "There's no need for more interventions. She will be taken tomorrow. After her autopsy, we will see which parts of her can be salvaged."

After the conversation was over, you tried to open your eyes looking for Dr. Jeremiah but he wasn't there anymore. You felt a certain heaviness in your chest, but you couldn't dwell on it as the sedatives finally won over you.

You woke up after a deep slumber restrained to a metal bed, only wearing a simple set of pants and shirt. As your senses returned you noticed you were being transported through the dark narrow hallways of the facility you had known all your life, but there was something different this time. You still felt a fog clouding your mind and the heaviness in your chest came back. It lessened when you heard Dr. Jeremiah's voice, who was talking with the armed men that transported your bed, giving them instructions on where to take you.

You moved your head, trying to catch a glimpse of the place you were going and noticed those weren't the usual turns and hallways you had grown accustomed to. When Dr. Jeremiah noticed you were awake, he put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

After a moment the movement stopped, you were left looking at the ceiling while Dr. Jeremiah talked with the men. He convinced them of leaving you and him alone for a moment, before they had to put you in the van. The men left without much complain, and the doctor seized the moment to act.

"(Y/N), listen to me." He rushed to try to loosen up your restraints. "I'm not letting them take you. You understand?"

The only thing you could do was nod as he kept moving, loosing the restraints on your naked feet and hands.

"You must remain on the bed. Don't move until I tell you to." You nodded once again. You saw him then take a vial and a syringe from his pocket and prepare it. "This will counteract the sedative in your system, you will be more alert in a few minutes, but remember, don't move."

He had injected you just in time before the armed men came back. They pulled your bed around and finally pulled you into the back of an armored van. They sat around you, two men at each side, guns in hand, along with Dr. Jeremiah on your left, who kept an eye on you at all times. As the vehicle started to move you also started to feel less and less numb with each passing minute. You were aware of each bump of the road, hear the sounds of the city in the distance, and your sight adjusted to what was around you as you squinted your eyes to see, trying not to get noticed. Just when you felt like your body was completely awake, you started to wonder what Dr. Jeremiah would do. Not much time had passed but the minutes felt like hours as you tried to be still.

Then you saw movement. Dr. Jeremiah was pulling something out of his pocket, and you opened your eyes to see him better. He looked at you, nodding slowly and with a fierce expression. Almost like telepathy you understood, you had to get ready, and in a second everything turned into chaos.

Dr. Jeremiah, in a faster move than you thought him capable of, pulled a teaser and attacked the man next to him. Almost immediately the rest of the men responded raising their guns at him. However, they didn't expect you to act as quickly as them or even you breaking your restraints so easily.

You grabbed one of the men with your right hand by his bulletproof vest and tossed him against the other one. Your strength, without the need of transforming, was enough to leave them on the floor. You didn't get the change to feel pleased with your work as a deafening bang went off on the left side of your head. You screamed as you raised your left hand towards the last man remaining, ignoring the ache in your head you managed to slash his side and right arm with your nails, now turned into claws. He had tried to eliminate you, but Dr. Jeremiah had managed to push him before he could do it.

The van stopped abruptly and took a sharp turn that made you fall from the metal bed. With your restraints already loose, it was easy to free yourself from them but as you tried to recover from the fall you felt a dizziness making it hard for you to stand up. A hand on your arm pulled you up. Dr. Jeremiah was on your side hurrying you up before the back doors opened. You couldn't hear his exact words but it didn't matter, with the adrenaline running once the back doors opened and you looked at two other agents pointing at you with your guns, you went feral.

Bullets flew the moment the agents saw the enormous black figure lunching at them, but your white sharp teeth showing as you growled and your black nail claws heading straight for their heads were enough to put a final stop to it. You jumped out of the van, leaving two more bodies behind you. A couple of bullets managed to hit you in the chest and arms but you would be recovering quickly, interventions had been done to make sure it didn't take too long.

Dr. Jeremiah jumped out of the van a moment later, gripping his shoulder. You smelled his blood and approached him with a hint of worry in your transformed face.

"It's alright. I'm okay." He smiled softly at you and looked around the streets. They were empty and there seemed to be no people around. "You have to go now. More will be on their way."

You protested with a whimper.

"I'll be okay, don't worry about me." Dr. Jeremiah moved his hand to one of his pockets an pulled a small piece of black fabric. "Run and don't stop. Not until you find her."

You came close to it, sniffing the fabric he held for you. Many scents were mixed on it, from Dr. Jeremiah, from the woman he had talked before, and another you couldn't identify. It wasn't as different from the woman, but it was distinctive enough you believed you could find it without confusing the two. You guessed you had to search for another woman and, feeling like it was a sort of treasure hunt, you let yourself imagine you would find that scientist he had talked about to you years ago.

But doubt filled your head as you looked at him, wondering what would happen to him once you left. There was also that pressure in your chest once again, as you thought what awaited in the outside world now that you had the chance to leave all this behind. All, including him.

"I have to stay." Dr. Jeremiah said catching his breath. He raised his good arm at you, caressing the black fur of your head with his hand as a way of last goodbye. "You go now, (Y/N), go and don't look back."

You pressed your head against his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. The last comforting sound you heard before screeching tires approached in the distance. They were coming for you. You had to leave.

You ran, darting into the shadows of the city, focusing on the memory of the scent Dr. Jeremiah had given you. Moments later you heard shots behind you, but you had been too long gone for them to even catch the sigh of you. You hoped those hadn't been directed to the doctor instead.

You used all your strength and speed to wander between warehouses and factory buildings to reach the urban lights on the other side.

#lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor x reader #lena x reader #lena luthor x you #lena luthor imagines #request #female reader #fem reader #perfect sense #part i #lena x you

[thezombieprostitute]

Panic Attack

Summary: A panic attack leads to a conversation with a handsome Detective and he helps you feel better in a few ways.

A/N: Reader is plus sized. No other descriptors used. Thank you @peyton-warren for the idea!

Warnings: Abusive ex - Fat shaming; Food denial. Panic attack. Let me know if I missed any!

The scent hits you and brings back all of the memories. You can control for so many triggers but not scent. It’s the sense with the strongest ties to your memories and you can’t avoid it. You can’t get your brain past it. There’s no talking yourself down when all you feel you can do is shut down completely. You sit on the sidewalk and wait for the pain your brain and body know is coming. 

“Give them some space,” a voice says. It catches your attention because the accent seems out of place. 

Thinking you’ve finally fully snapped you start gently rocking. Suddenly a face comes into view. Curly hair, beard and deep blue eyes etched with concern. It’s enough to get you to stop rocking.

“Hi there,” he says. “I’m Detective Walter Marshall. You look like you’re having a panic attack?” His words take a little time to register in your brain. When they do, you nod. “Do you know what triggered this? Is it still here?” His voice is calm and caring without being condescending. 

“Smell…” you whisper. “Someone’s cologne. It’s gone now. Can’t…I can’t…”

“It’s okay,” his voice soothes. “Do you need to go inside or do you need the open space?”

“Umm…” your brain keeps trying to work but it’s stalling out. Every time you try to look away his eyes follow yours, keeping your focus on him. “Inside, please. If only so I’m not sitting on the sidewalk?”

“Okay. Can I help you up?” He stands and holds out his hand. You’re taken aback at just how tall and thick he is. You’re almost too shy to take the help but you do need to get off of the ground. You take your hand and pull yourself up. You’re a little scared you’ll hurt him with your weight but he barely seems to register it. When you’re on your feet he gestures to a nearby restaurant, “if it's a smell that got you worked up maybe a bunch of different ones will help you? My treat.”

The two of you walk the few steps to the front door and he holds the door open for you. Your movements are slow but he doesn’t comment, letting you set the pace. You find a table in the corner and sit there. You need to be able to see the entire (thankfully empty) room, can’t risk someone sneaking up on you. He sits next to you, close enough to hear you talk but far enough to respect your personal space. 

“Is there anything I can get you,” he asks. “Any comfort food or drink? Maybe even a YouTube video to help you out?”

Your brain gives a few false starts before you’re able to say, “chocolate? Chocolate flavor means he’s not here. Means I’m okay.”

He nods and gestures to one of the staff who quickly comes over. He orders a couple pieces of chocolate cake and the waiter goes to quickly grab them. 

“While we’re waiting,” he looks at you, “can you tell me your name?” You’re happy with how quickly you’re able to tell him, like maybe your brain can do something right. He nods, “when is your birthday?” That one takes a few seconds longer but you’re able to tell him. “Are you able to take a deep breath?” Almost involuntarily you find yourself slowly breathing deep. By the time you exhale you’re feeling a smidge better.

The slices of cake get to the table and he puts one in front of you, taking the other for himself. When you hesitate he starts eating his as if telling you it’s okay to eat. You take a small bite and the chemicals in your brain start adjusting and letting go of the terror that cologne had inspired. He never let you eat chocolate, sweets in general. He’d always said you needed to stop embarrassing him and lose some weight so he cut you off from your favorites. But you’re eating chocolate cake now so he can’t be here. 

After a couple of bites your panicked state eases up, leaving you feeling weak and exhausted. You start crying and apologizing. He’s quick to console you, holding your hand in his, speaking in a soothing tone about how you can’t always control when these things will hit. How trauma of any kind isn’t something that can just be pushed down and forgotten. How you’re a lot stronger than you think because you’ve survived this and more.

When you’ve cried yourself out you switch to thanking him for his help and the cake. He smiles softly and goes back to eating his slice, encouraging you to continue eating yours. You do so with gusto, smiling, and comment on how tasty it really is. 

“It goes really well with coffee,” Walter comments. “But I didn’t want to order any in case that was another trigger.”

“No,” you softly shake your head, “that sounds really nice. Decaf, though. I don’t think my nerves could handle caffeine at the moment.” Walter turns and orders the coffee which is quickly brought out. You heartily agree that the flavor of the cake is enhanced when paired with the coffee and his smile grows. 

The two of you start conversing in general small talk, leading to talking about your various interests. It’s a very restorative conversation as you let yourself feel excited to explain some of your hobbies and recent fixations. He listens and adds some of his own commentary about your shared interests. Turns out you have quite a few of them. 

After the cake and coffee has been consumed, your nerves are still raw but not as sensitive. You thank Walter for helping you out and ask if you can repay him. 

“It’s not a problem,” he smiles. “I’m genuinely happy to help. In fact, can I take you home? You look like you could use some rest.” You smile and nod. 

He leads you to his truck and you tell him your building’s address. He makes sure to walk you to the building’s front door and gives you his card in case you want to talk some more. You give him a big hug before heading inside. 

Between your name, birthday and building address, Walter is able to look up your history in the department records. He finds the restraining order with your ex-boyfriends name and address on it. He can’t do anything yet but it’s good information to have in case something happens. In the meantime, he really hopes you call or text him. 

#walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x plus size!reader #walter marshall fluff

[butteerfly]

DATING SNK BOYS

just going back to customs <3 actually this headcanon is more like your love story was with each one, i hope you appreciate it

¡¡ mayor spoilers !! s1/2/3

levi ackerman, erwin smith, eren jeager

LEVI ACKERMAN

He thought he was made for a lonely life, but meeting you changed many of his perspectives.

your love story began with a forced coexistence

he was frustrated at having to work alongside a new recruit from the military police

but your quick efficiency quite surprised him

the way you protected everyone during the expeditions caught his attention

then spontaneously you started having midnight talks

he never imagined coinciding with a person as much as he does with you

appreciates that you have left the military police to contribute to humanity through your bravery

He is a very reserved man so discovering his feelings was not an easy task, and making him talk about it was even more difficult

One of the things he likes about you is your ability to surprise him in the most unexpected ways.

you always look flawless according to him

tea tastes different if he shares it with you

He secretly enjoys when you come to his office to complete paperwork with him, sometimes loneliness tires him

He is not a man of words, his love language is acts of service and simple gifts

he is too independent in practically every aspect of his life except with you

He is very overprotective, he does not do it in a possessive way, the world in which you live forces him to take care of you

he partially disagree with you being in the survey corp, but he knows that if he met you there he won't be able to convince you to leave.

he is scared of you because you make him feel vulnerable without any explanation

not into pda, but in the privacy of your room he always prefers you to be on top of him

In terms of sex, I think Levi would agree with whatever you want to do as long as you guys are out of duty.

he is quite shy about that topic due to his lack of experience

when you sleep next to him he could look at your face for hours without getting tired

he really likes how you smell

he's actually your squad captain

your relationship caused an interesting gossip in paradis when it was discovered

hange always asks you when you are going to have children because she wants to meet her nephews and levi always looks at her horrified

he trains you personally and mercilessly because he doesn't want to lose you for anything in the world

when the female titan appearedthe fear he had for you still sends shivers down his spine

whispers I love you

one of his most intimate moments was when he had a panic attack in the middle of a storm, you witnessed his pain and helped him overcome it that day.

It was very difficult for him but he confessed to you what the memory of the death of his best friends made him feel and you comforted him like no one else

he cannot afford to be weak with humanity, he is the strongest soldier of humanity, he has a duty, but with you... your side is the only place where he feels that he is Levi Ackerman and not a soldier

dating Levi is constantly comforting each other, in order to cope with your existence in the world that you lived in

EREN JEAGER

you met when you were just babies, you grew up together those peaceful years

Eren thought you were the cutest girl/boy in Paradis and he continue to think the same for the rest of his life

when your life was turned upside down in a split second you both found peace in each other's embrace.

you share a deep hatred for those who took away your freedom

the devotion you feel for him is immeasurable

from the beginning you always thought like him, the survey corp was your path before he too decided he wanted to go there

Eren confessed his love to you during training, your first kiss was adorable and awkward

dating him back then was a volatile experience, watching him die and come back as a titan stressed you out too much.

you supported him in all his decisions when he found out he was a titan

you swore loyalty..

the latent fear that he will die again haunts you

I think Eren is one of the passionate kisses

he is a hormonal teenager, has a lot of energy

He didn't mind showing you love in public

lots of kisses on the back of your hand

would be a jealous man

when you broke three ribs fighting the female titan he almost went crazy.

He is the type of boyfriend who when you get sick does not leave your side

the shiganshina operation was a before and after in your relationship

when you came back you knew something was wrong just by looking at his eyes

dating him used to be fun, dangerous adventure, you laughed and hugged

But now dating him is a permanent state of alert

he started to be more distant and aggressive towards you progressively, suddenly he no longer kisses you in public and you no longer remember when he said I love you for the last time

he broke up with you but refuses to let you go, you became so dependent on each other

There's a growing anxiety between you that you can't fix and he doesn't seem to care

suddenly he asks you to leave the army and stay away from your friends... and you listen to him because you love him more than your life

Before leaving you forever, he made sure to leave you in the safest place in the world and kiss you for the last time, without giving you any explanation.

dating eren is to miss what his love once was

ERWIN SMITH

Erwin remembers being instantly attracted to your rebelliousness

the way you questioned your superiors to keep your comrades safe made him want to talk to you, you look interesting.

He started filling out paperwork with you, then walking next to you, "accidentally" bumping into you, then inviting you for tea.

when he asked you what you thought about what lay beyond the wall your answer amazed him

he knew you were the one at that moment, but his head refused to accept it as a defense mechanism

the tension that existed between both of you was overwhelming

you initiated your first kiss, making him totally lose himself with you

It didn't take you long to formalize and start walking hand in hand in public.

It was certainly inappropriate but when your superiors asked for an explanation Erwin said that working together in this way was more beneficial for the team and consequently for humanity, everyone fell for his speech

you are the couple that talks about totally strange topics that the rest don't even think about

he taught you to play chess

you taught him a card game that your family had taught you

you recommend books to each other

in fact on your days off you go to a small park to read together, usually you end up sleeping on top of him

he thinks you would be a lovely bride ...

he gave you a ring but never asked the question

you understood why

When you are on duty, you are not distracted much because your obligation is serious, but as soon as night comes...

before he was the commander you used to sneak into his room to sleep next to him

passionate kisses against the wall

In terms of sex, your greatest activity is when you return from the expeditions...you relieve stress that way

believes that red roses are the perfect flowers for you

your heart almost jumped out of your mouth when he lost his arm

he could listen to you talk all day, no matter if he is tired, badly hurt or stressed, your voice is his ground wire

you never questioned him as a commander, after all he was your superior, his speeches left you teary-eyed

you were so proud of the man you fell in love with and dreamed of marrying

until the shiganshina operation came

he ordered you as commander to stay in the rose wall, in case no one of the survey corps is left alive, but you knew that was an excuse, you couldn't believe that he was doing that to you

you begged him on your knees to let you go whit them, he didn't give in but you didn't listen to him either, after all you always had a rebellious spirit

he was speechless when he saw you among the troops, but he couldn't be mad at you on the possible day of his death, he assigned you to armin arlert's group anyway

"this could be the end of everything so why don't we go somewhere only we know" 😭

The last time you saw him in the eyes will always stay in your head.

you felt your world fall when he finally left

dating erwin is having his spirit and courage tattooed on your heart for the rest of your life

.

.

.

I hope you liked my vision <3 I accept any ideas and opinions

#attack on titan #eren yeager #erwin smith #snk erwin #levi ackerman x reader #levi x y/n #snk levi #eren jaeger #eren x reader #shingeki no kyoujin eren #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi ackerman headcanons #erwin x reader #attack on titan erwin

[ficnoire2]

A Little Legendborn/Bloodmarked Scent Theory

Scent is nostalgic.  It transports us back to a memory, a person, and the feelings that lived in that pocket of time.  When I was a teenager Snoop Dog proclaimed in Lodi Dodi “For all the bitches I might take home, I got the Johnson’s Baby Powder and Cool Water cologne.”  Yes, I have happily dated myself with that reference (all my youngins, do your Googles) but nearly every boy I knew had that scent profile and every time one of them said, “Where my hug at” I would bury my nose in its familiar embrace.  Tracy has been hella intentional with so many of her choices in this amazing series (see a bit more in my “A little LB/BM…” series at the end) and I don’t think the way our favs smell is any different.  Let’s take a dip in the olfactory pool shall we?

Bree Matthews - scent profile Gourmand, Green, Mossy Woods

“Do you want to know?” he asks in a low voice that makes me shiver.  He reaches for my hand, and his fingers are hot against my palm.  “What your magic smells like?”... “Honey wine.  Amber.  Green things growing.  The tiniest hint of copper, like fresh blood.  Something else…”  A deep inhale, and I feel him shudder.  “Power.”

Well now, Selwyn said a mouthful when describing Bree’s scent and every note fits her perfectly.  

Honey Wine - Did y'all know that honey wine is also called Meade?  Arthur went on about someone drinking all of it when Bree popped up in one of his memories.  It is made from honey, yeast, and water and can vary in alcohol content and can be mixed with fruit.  In Celtic cultures, Meade is thought to enhance virility and fertility and has aphrodisiac qualities (had Sel on his ass in the woods).  This wine was said to have been first made in secret by Irish Monks. Its origins, however, are lost in prehistory with the earliest archeological evidence dating back to 7000 BC. It was used in feasts and celebrations across Europe and Asia and still exists today. A scent fit for a King. 

Amber - Warm and exotic, amber which is derived from tree resin and described as “Gold of the Sea” and has been touted as the world’s oldest and most desired treasure.  It is considered beautiful and unique and has special chemical properties that are electrically charged and could ignite when rubbed together (A bit volatile and explosive like our Bree).  Amber is a powerful Chakra cleanser and can absorb negative energy, transferring it into positive. It can be used in meditation for relaxation and can heighten and enhance psychic abilities. 

Green Things Growing - The scent of fresh cut grass, blooming flora, mother earth.  Representing growth, new beginnings, healing, and renewal.  I find it interesting that Sel tapped into this aspect of her scent as taking in her root (after giving him consent) revitalized him.  In a way Bree’s arrival has brought forth new beginnings and growth for everyone she has come into contact with.

Copper, Fresh Blood, Power - Smelling blood (where none is present) can signify a deep connection with ancestral ties.  As we know Bree has seen Vera bathed in blood, and its use has been pivotal to her communing with her ancestors.  It can also serve as a shield or protection.  Erebus has Bloodmarked Bree which alerts him to her danger, in a way protecting her. This scent being part of her profile is telling because it is a symbol of life, sacrifice, and spiritual potency.  These attributes are ever present in Bree.  She after all is their sharpest and strongest blade with a powerful connection to the spirit realm. 

Selwyn Kane - Scent profile Oriental (amber/sweet), woody (smoky), peaty (aged whiskey)

“We are so close I smell whiskey and smoke.  His aether signature, back again.”

Whiskey - Did you know that smelling alcohol has spiritual significance involving evolution, cleansing, and reemergence with renewed clarity?  Smelling alcohol can be a call to purify oneself, to get rid of negativity.  It can signify a period of transition or transformation, a rebirth if you will.  Selwyn Kane has managed to change immensely throughout both books.  He can literally transform by owl shifting.  By the end of Bloodmarked, we see yet another iteration of him as he transitioned more towards his shadow side, his demon nature.  Historical context suggests the scent of alcohol is associated with sacred rituals (Oathing ceremonies) and can be a bridge between the physical and spiritual realms. 

Cinnamon - In the oriental scent family, this scent is exotic and seductive (just like our favorite, angsty, goth).  Some people use cinnamon for protection, prosperity, and healing.  It is said to be anti-viral, anti-biotic, anti-microbial, and antifungal “I don’t get infections.”  Cinnamon has therapeutic properties, it's no wonder Selwyn is able to heal so quickly from injury (bruised ego aside).

Smoke- While a part of Sel’s scent profile, when Bree smells the hint of smoke he gives off, it suggests her closeness to the ancestral plane and the supernatural.  Like Bree, people that smell smoke when there is none can sense the spiritual world.  Selly has an affinity for detecting those pesky Shadowborn that continuously make their way to our world. Its scent is also associated with messages from our ancestors and the divine.

Nick Davis - Scent profile Woody, fresh

“When he catches up, his fresh laundry and cedar scent comes with him.  Of course he smells good.”

Fresh Laundry-Nick’s scent has been described as a bit boring, but I tend to disagree.  Tracy has been extremely intentional with her choices in this series and I don’t think Nick’s scent is any different.  Fresh laundry makes you want to bury your face in it.  After a long day and a nice shower, it feels like home to snuggle into freshly laundered sheets (Is it just me?).  It is comforting to snuggle up in your favorite blanket that smells of your favorite detergent.  It is soothing and in a sense freshly laundered linens are a clean slate.  If that isn’t Nick, I don’t know what is.  He is deeply comforting to Bree and is a soft place to land for her.  Whenever she is in his room, she is smelling his clothes, sheets, she is able to find respite with him.  He is a change of pace in all the chaos happening in her life.  Not only does he serve as comfort for her, but for Sel as well (hello Bloodwalk).  Plus, tell me you haven’t taken clothes out of the dryer and took a big ol’ whiff.

Cedar- I love the smell of cedar.  Symbolically it represents protection, wisdom, strength, and spiritual grounding (come on Nicky!).  In some cultures Cedar trees are considered sacred and are known for their healing relationship with humankind.  The scent of cedar clears the mind, opening it to past memories. Cedar trees in particular are said to store energy, only releasing it when important healing needs to occur.  We know Nick has a lot of inner rage (Max fucked around and found out), but he is also optimistic and seeking correction of the wrongs his father and The Order have imposed on the Legendborn.  I don’t know about you, but I’d bathe my clothes in this for sure.

Scent is such a powerful medium. What do you think of our faves’ scents?  I find it interesting that the spiciest characters (looking at you Bree and Selwyn) are in the oriental/woody scent family and our more level headed bunch is in the fresh scent family. 

In part two, we’ll take a look at Valec, William, and Incense Daddy himself, Erebus. 

Color Theory

Symbolism

#legendborn #bree mathews #nick davis #selwyn kane #tracey deonn #bloodmarked

[angelicyouth]

Youth ; Chapter 14

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

It was a picture of me at the beach from the time all of the boys and I went to California the summer before sophomore year started—a little trip with some of our families. My brother had taken it on one of those disposable film cameras, the ones where you had to bring it to the store and pay to get it developed. 

Stan always had a surprising knack for aesthetics, his picture artistically capturing the glow of my skin from the rays of warm sunlight bathing me in its embrace. Tied into perfect bows on my shoulders are the ribbons of my sundress, as if waving for the photo with the caress of the gentle summer breeze.

Splayed across the front covers of monochrome newspapers and on flyers pasted onto telephone poles all across town—what was once a treasured piece of memorabilia tucked into the corner of his bedroom mirror became a physical reminder of what is now lost. Stan hated that they took his precious memory and ruined it, because staring at it so much now made him think that the captured moment did little to no justice to the real-life beauty of his younger sister.

To increase the chances of coverage, they had said.

It took him a moment to notice that in the little waiting area he was uncomfortably sitting in, the sudden emergence of various voices meant that the previous meeting in session of the police department was now over. His eyes flicker back at the debriefing whiteboard through the translucent window, the piece of paper cluttered around various mugshots and crime scene photos.

He doesn’t look down at the perfect scrawl of the computer printed ink under it, doesn’t want to see the name of Y/N Marsh glaring back at him. The red, tender area around his tired eyes begs him not to torture himself with a glance that’d send him spiraling back into the guilt and grief he’s been constantly feeling.

Lifeless—that’s what all the boys seated around him looked like along with their haggard and disheveled appearances. No one wanted to leave the building, not even for sleep, for a shower, or for food (although Cartman has been spending an increasing amount of time hanging around at the vending machines tucked into the corner of the lobby). 

Everyone has opted to spend their time staying in the dreary building in complete silence in an effort to await for any type of update or piece of information as soon as possible. Because at least here, they didn’t have to see the sympathetic eyes of others.

The prying questions.

The pitiful gazes.

The hushed whispers.

At least here, it gave them the illusion that they were doing something. Not only that, but the concrete confines of this place forced the elder Marsh to not crack out a bottle of the strongest liquor he could find. Craig, however, found himself leaving the building to frequently smoke an abundant amount of toxic cigarettes in a mixture of both stress and anxiety. 

The smell of heavy fumes followed him everywhere now, sticking to his clothing like a shadow that was overcast his whole body. He’s already had three full packs since it happened and the boys couldn’t say anything to him because the teen was currently made of pure wrath. 

While everyone has inflicted constant claustrophobia to the boys with their piteous stares and tight smiles of reassurance, people have only been sending wary glances at the ravenette due to the ravenous aura he emits. His normally expressionless face has a dark edge to it that just didn’t sit right with other bystanders, triggering their fight-or-flight response whenever they stepped within his immediate vicinity.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” The taller teen seethes from his clenched teeth and his even tenser jaw, shooting a scathing glare at the hunched over blonde sitting next to him.

Kenny doesn’t even bother to look up from his cell phone, an object his dull eyes have been indefinitely glued to since that fateful day. While Craig has been the more temperamental one of the group since the occurrence (he always has been, this is what causes the ravenette to get into a lot of fist fights throughout their years), the blonde has been coping by sending my missing mobile device an influx of text messages. 

He never receives a response, not that he was expecting one anyway. But that didn’t stop him from sending another text because he knew that if the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t stop trying for him either. One after the other, his fingers fly across the cracked glass in hopes that he’ll see the tell-tale thought bubble pop up at the bottom corner of his phone indicating that I’m typing out a reply. 

One minute goes by and then five—still no response.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

As like any other missing person case, there wasn’t much for the police to go on. I was reported to have been last seen outside of the building of Buca de Faggocini when I stopped by for some Italian food to take to Kenny’s place that night. It was in the part of the parking lot that had a blind spot to the security cameras, as if my perpetrator knew there wasn’t surveillance there. The last the boys had heard, there were three possible vehicle models that needed to be checked out but they were warned that it wasn’t likely that they’d lead to anything.

When the police interviewed all of their prioritized suspects, nothing came to fruition. There was no one that harbored any ill will or malicious intent and everyone had reasonable alibis that coincided with the time of the suspected abduction. How could there be? I spent all of my time with the boys. 

“As much as I love how popular the police department has gotten in the past few days, don’t you kids have school to get to or something?” The detective passing by mumbles his words around an unlit cigarette, on his way to take a quick smoke break before he returns to the multitude of stacked papers on his desk.

He lays a heavy hand over the closest teenager sitting next to his standing position in an attempt of friendly contact—to a teen wearing a blue chullo over his head. But as soon as his fingers lightly graze against the thick material adorned on the ravenette’s shoulders, his towering body quickly stands up to its full height in order to push the detective against the wall, hard. 

His forearm is pressed firmly against the older man’s chest, exerting pressure in retaliation to the passive attempt to get the boys out of the building. The rest of the boys noisily get up from their chairs at the swift action, the sharp scraping of metal against linoleum resounds as a handful of chairs threaten to teeter onto the floor at the force. 

Kyle reacts first as he reaches a placating hand to settle over the ravenette’s shoulder, his grip firm on the possible chance that the other would try to escalate the situation into something more physical. The air is tense and strained, everyone warily eyeing the altercation.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Dark blue eyes steadily bore into that of the adult in front of him, the baritone of his voice descending into a low growl.

“Craig.” The curly haired teen says, his voice firm in warning as his eyes quickly flicker at the two bodies in front of him. They were in a fucking police department, for God’s sake.

“We’re not going to just sit on the sidelines with our thumbs up our fucking asses when she’s out there, somewhere.” The ravenette coldly asserts, his tone low as his expressionless face keeps its unwavering gaze on the police officer.

The older ginger reaches a hand to the arm harshly pressed against his collarbones in an effort to help relieve some of the pain. “Jesus fucking Christ. Then why don’t you guys take a stack of flyers and hand it out around town or some shit? Make a post on social media or gather information from people she knows. Let the adults do their jobs—we’re busy.”

“Busy with what?! You guys haven’t done jack shit since our report. It’s been two fucking days since she’s gone missing and the lack of urgency is seriously fucking me up. Don’t you know that the first 48 hours are the most critical? As each hour passes, the likelihood that a missing person will be found decreases.” Cartman loudly interjects, seething from his standing position as he reprimands the detectives of the entire building in a condescending way. 

No one says anything and the oppressive silence threatens to swallow up the officer’s next words but he continues to push on. He lets out a heavy sigh, as much air that he can let out with the abundance of weight being forced onto his body from the unrelenting teen.

“I get it, okay? You kids are trying to cope with her disappearance. But this isn’t healthy, and I don’t think she’d be happy with what you’ve been doing with your time.” 

Despite his efforts, it seems to be the wrong words to say because the ravenette exerts even more pressure, menacingly forcing his words out through his gritted teeth. “It was a kidnapping, not a disappearance.” 

At the increase of his weight being inflicted, the adult can’t help but to wince. “It’s still being counted as a disappearance since our men have yet to recover any evidence that indicates she was taken without her consent.”

“She wouldn’t just leave us like that!” Clyde wails at the implication, his indignation causing his closed fists to turn white as they tremble by his sides. 

Stan’s footsteps thunder forward when unable to keep its owner motionless for any longer, the football player’s build appearing in the unoccupied space behind Craig. There’s a deep glare on his face, his mouth curled into a sneer as it venomously spits out at the quickly panicking detective. “You fucking owe us, Yates.”

Thick eyebrows that were previously furrowed at the rapidly escalating situation creases even further at the elder Marsh’s words. “What the fuck for? I don’t have to do shit for a bunch of kids.”

“Stan’s right. We busted that fucking meth lab for you when we were younger, remember? You sent us undercover to a fucking strip club. We even took down the leader of Colorado’s largest drug cartel.” Kenny interjects, challenging the highest-ranked officer with a lifted eyebrow.

“Ack! What?!” The blonde’s words send a wave of shock through Tweek’s already stressed out body, never having heard about the game of detectives they played as kids that quickly turned into reality.

Harrison immediately cuts through the brief pause before anyone can speak up, bringing his unoccupied hand to squeeze at the skin between his eyes in exasperation. He realizes that he’s steadily losing power over the teens and the situation which is decidedly not good. 

“Look. Stanley, was it? It’s basic knowledge that you can’t be on the case when you have some sort of personal attachment to it. Conflicts of interest cause issues and could potentially hinder the progress of the investigation.”

“But we can help. Just let us sit in during the meetings, sir. Please.” The knuckles on Butters’ hands are already rubbed raw from the persistent wave of anxiety of these past few days, his voice weak and wobbly through the permanent lump now stuck in his throat.

Detective Yates takes the time to observe the group in front of him, noting the sunken skin on their too young faces. They’re deeply ringed with dark circles, a vivid shade of purple against their skin and glaringly obviously in its contrast to their canvas.

When his thoughtful eyes meet that of Stan’s, he observes the crumpled shirt and tousled bleached locks that go in all directions from his fingers repeatedly running through it. He tiredly sighs as he runs a weary hand through his fatigued face, feeling tired beyond his years. 

This is why he never wanted any kids.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure

Nothing ever lasts forever

“N/N likes this song a lot.” Kenny wistfully says out into the cold Colorado air, his tired form lazily sitting on the hard curb of the sidewalk as wisps of air form small clouds after his every word.

His hands rest behind his body for support, the gravel of the asphalt uncomfortably digging into his palms. The blonde sits next to where the Tucker’s family car is carefully parked, the driver’s door opened to allow the faint music playing inside of it to spill out into the quiet afternoon.

Despite what Yates had said to the boys about school, it was now spring break for the multitude of teens attending South Park High. And even if they weren’t blessedly granted a few days off from class, the group would have stayed camped out in the police department regardless of what anyone said to them.

We were all supposed to rent out a cabin to stay at for vacation, Kenny bitterly thinks to himself when he sees a few kids from school laugh stress free with one another as they leisurely walk by.

When the heavy front doors of the building behind him opens, he doesn’t turn his head as he stares out at the clouds languidly swimming in the sky. It provides him small comfort to know that no matter where I am in this world, that at least I’m under the same sky as my blonde lover.

“Heard you boys got Sergeant Yates to let you in on our meetings.” Lieutenant Dawson joins, lighting his own cigarette as he leans against the dirty wall of discolored bricks.

There’s a stretch of silence, tendrils of smoke spilling out of the adult’s mouth and adding to the already pungent smell spreading out into the parking lot. He tries again around the rolled up nicotine lit up in his mouth, “Tell me about her.”

“Don’t.” Craig rigidly tells Kenny from his seated position next to the blonde, his own cancer stick lit up between soft pink lips. He doesn’t move his head as he glares at the intrusive officer over the din of the toxic fumes he emits, his hand rising to flash the intruder a vulgar middle finger. “Fuck off.”

“Come on, I want to know more about the girl that caught the ever emotionless Tucker’s attention. What makes her so amazing that you two are willing to be with her at the same time?” The older male tries to encourage the two teens despite sounding disinterested, his fingers tapping away on the glass screen of his cellphone. 

The boys had to be honest with their relationship during their interrogations, not wanting to risk the investigation if they withheld any information. At the seemingly innocent question, both Kenny and Craig’s eyes grow distant and nostalgic as they think about the missing person from their trio.

Everything, they simultaneously think at the question. What wasn't all things wonderful about Y/N Marsh? She's absolutely breathtaking.

The onslaught of happy memories come in like a flood within the confines of their minds, providing a short respite against the constant torment the last few days have been. If only so little, a now rare quirk appears at the corner of their lips when remembering their significant other.

The way she slightly crinkles her nose with a cute pout on her face every time Cartman says something she disagrees with.

The small quirk to her lips when she listens to Tweek spout his conspiracies and theories rooted in deep paranoia.

How she tries to fight the smile threatening to break through her expression when her brother says something even remotely funny because she doesn't want to feed his already big ego.

“... It makes me so fucking angry. How the world just continues on without her. Like no one realizes that a person like her is gone.” The ravenette mumbles when he stubs out his cigarette, the flickering embers dying out when he’s quickly brought back to the reality of now. 

Craig thinks about how when we were all just kids and would wish that time would hurry up so that we’d be ‘grown’ and could do more things that were restricted by our ages. But now that we are, to the ravenette it seems like time is moving too fast without me by his side.

It’s hard not to realize how much he should have appreciated the moments together more. Isn’t it funny how common it is to not cherish what is before us, until it no longer is? 

That’s absolute bullshit, he bitterly thinks.

“Yeah… All I have of her now are memories. And even if I had every trace of her erased from my mind, I’m pretty sure my heart would still ache for her.” Kenny’s hushed voice resounds in the otherwise empty parking area, his words almost a whisper against the wind in his painful yearning.

Sometimes Kenny feels like he’s incapable of crying anymore but he’s always proven wrong. It’s only been two days but it hurts to think. Because what were once precious memories that lit up his body with joy are now tainted with sadness. It hurts to think about the last time of anything: the last time we touched, the last moment he heard my voice—just about anything and everything.

“I can’t fucking sleep. If I do, I dream of her and it just makes me want to reach out to her even though I know I can’t.” He softly continues as his words steadily become thicker with the threat of tears.

It’s hard to do things that we once always did together, the blonde and ravenette think.

�� ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

When the boys enter the boardroom to join with the rest of the officers, they’re presented with a reprimanding glare from Detective Yates as they slink their bodies towards the back of the room to lean against the wall. With the last members finally joining (unofficially), the ginger begins the meeting by relaying whatever news was at the precinct.

A couple of new cases got debriefed, one involving a string of broken into cars in the local area during the last couple of weeks and another about possible malpractice at the town’s Planned Parenthood Clinic. It isn’t until the sergeant at the head of the room begins to notify those listening of the ones that got pushed back on priority due to the lack of evidence, that the group of teens get brought down to Earth away from their distracting thoughts.

Collectively, they all flinch when they hear the syllables that make up my name among that list. Relaying this information invokes a plethora of clenched fists and creased eyebrows, the elder Marsh about to open his mouth when a sharp ringtone suddenly cuts through the air.

“Kenny! It’s your phone!” Butters exclaims after locating the source of noise, tufts of his blonde hair getting ruffled at the movement created by his searching head.

The spoken to blonde’s response is delayed in a mixture of apathy of his surroundings and fatigue, his mind taking a few seconds to register the words aimed at him. “What..? Oh shit, my bad.”

Kyle stammers out a hurried apology to the irritated expressions and glares getting shot at the group for the interruption, his words quick at reassuring the officers that are turned at their seats to look at the noise at the back of the room. Ring adorned hands fumble to pat at his orange parka’s pockets but they come up empty handed before he relocates them to his pants. 

Tremors of embarrassment causes the blonde to shake as he quickly pulls out the vibrating mobile device, the teen cursing himself at possibly fucking up their chances to attend the meeting. The internal admonishment comes to a quick halt, however. 

It’s as if his body was suddenly hit by an oncoming bullet train with how all the air in his body gets knocked out at once. Because there, on the glaring brightness of his cell phone screen is my caller ID. 

Sleeping Beauty, it says.

His longer fingers freeze over the broken glass of his cellphone, disbelieving eyes settling onto a picture of the tranquil expression on my face. My features are calm with sleep during a movie night with the boys, the light from the television screen illuminating a beautiful glow of multiple ethereal colors onto my relaxed visage.

You look like an angel when you dream, he had softly whispered onto the skin of my forehead when my eyes blearily fluttered open. It was one of the only things Craig had agreed with him on that night.

“Well? What the fuck are you doing, McCormick! Hang up!” Yates barks out from the front of the room, his temperament heavily bleeding into his words as he crosses his arms in impatience.

Kyle frantically pushes his way over to Kenny when he sees his motionless body, his hands clutched tightly at the device but suspended in midair. He’s about to reach for the still screaming phone within the blonde’s grip before he sharply inhales. “Oh my god…”

“Turn it off or get the fuck out, McCormick. I’m not telling you again!” The thundering voice echoes out into the room that is slowly losing their collective patience, the disruption prolonging the meeting and keeping them away from their work.

“It’s… It’s Y/N!” Clyde wails out loud, tears already forming in the more emotionally sensitive teen’s eyes when he looks over Kenny’s shoulder. The grumbles under the breaths of irritated officers and the furious shifting in their seats stops at the brunette’s words.

The revelation causes a cacophony of noise in the meeting room, as if someone flipped a switch. Barked orders get let out as people begin to file out, the group assigned to the case rushing around to set up recording devices and phone tracking equipment. 

Fingers violently shake to swipe at the screen, to command the cellphone to answer the call and to quickly put it on speakerphone. What was once a sea of sudden madness becomes eerily tranquil like a lake, its sudden silence tainted with apprehension and bated breaths.

“… Princess?” Kenny silently whispers, the boys crowding around the blonde in nervous anticipation.

Rustling on the other end can be heard as everyone strains their ears, sweat beginning to bead at everyone’s temples at what could possibly be the first of what seems to be a decade of radio silence. “Ken!”

At the sound of my familiar voice, a sob rips through all of their throats. It feels as if their muscles simultaneously relax for the first time in what feels like forever at the melodic sound of my greeting. 

“N/N! Oh my fucking god, are you okay?” Kyle brings his face close to the blonde’s suspended hand, relief transparent as he tries to take over the call from stunned and disbelieving bodies.

“Where the fuck are you?!” Cartman exclaims before I can answer, frustration tinting through his ease at finally getting into contact with me.

“What the hell happened?” It’s Tolkien’s smooth voice this time, both of his hands reaching up to scrub at his already swollen eyes.

“Are you hurt?” Butters pipes in but in contrast to the member of the group that last spoke up, he freely allows the salty wetness to coat at the skin of his cheeks.

For the first time in days, Tweek isn’t painfully tugging at the blonde locks on his head or gritting his teeth to the absolute relief of his jaw. “Ngh! Do you know who—”

I laugh and for the boys, they can’t help the smile that finally makes its long awaited appearance on their faces when they hear the sound despite the distortion the phone causes. “Stop! Stop. I can’t hear when you guys talk all at once, you know?” 

They wait for me to contain my giggles and despite the fact that they can’t see my face, they can all just imagine the bright smile that would normally accompany such a sound. “Jeez, you guys. Is everyone there?”

“Of course. We’ve all been together, looking for you. You know none of us would sit still, especially when it comes to you. Sheesh N/N, did you suddenly forget about how much you mean to us?” My brother has a distressed yet wistful expression on his face, pain etched into identical but more masculine features of the other person on the phone.

I lightly chuckle but it only serves to painfully grip at their hearts, a reminder of what was missing from their group. “Yeah, you guys have always been overprotective.” 

“What do you expect? You’re our little sister, crybaby or not.” Cartman says in his usual snark but there’s a softness so rarely seen hiding in between his words. 

We all gently laugh at the familiar jeer, the guys shooting Clyde teasing yet sympathetic looks as he loudly sobs into the sleeves of his already damp letterman jacket. His wails are unabashed in their volume and while this normally would’ve called for their playful bullying at his crybaby tendencies, they don’t say anything.

The boys watch as Cartman tries hard to keep up his cocky smirking, the larger teen only able to keep it for just a second before it quickly crumbles back to the downturn of melancholic lips. They don’t comment even when it begins to dangerously wobble, his eyes clenched shut to prevent his eyes from further drowning his face with tears.

“… Let me hear Craig.” I softly say, not having heard my raven haired lover since the call started. He’s always had a hard time expressing his emotions and despite the situation I’ve found myself in, I’m most worried at how he’s been processing everything—at how he’s been handling the loss.

The boys weakly push his body from where he’s been holding himself towards the back of the group crowded around the blonde’s phone. Kenny slings his arm around the taller teen when he nears, forcing him into place and with no chance to escape.

“Y/N.” He says thickly through his grief, alerting me of his presence.

“Oh, baby.” I affectionately coo when I hear his wet words and the apparent strain in his throat from trying his absolute hardest to keep himself from crying. It’s like the dam finally breaks at the familiar cadence of my voice because all too soon, I hear the heart wrenching sobs of the ravenette. 

“Don’t cry!”

“I can't. How do you expect me not to when my person is gone?” Kenny brings the taller teens wet face against his shoulder for support, the blonde’s eyebrows uncomfortably creased at the disturbing sight. In all the years they’ve known each other, Craig has never cried.

“I’m here, I’m here.” I sniff into the phone, quickly trying to reassure the distressed teen.

But he can’t hold the weeping that racks through his entire body any longer, no matter how hard he tries. It’s the type that’s full of anguish and pain—so raw in its emotions and grief. “No, you’re not. Don’t lie to me, N/N. I miss you. Just come back, please. I don’t think I can do this without you anymore. It fucking hurts.”

“I know, love. I know... Hey.” I call to get his attention when the sound of his vocalized hurt only further escalates, bordering on hysterical. I wait until he’s calmed down enough to just hiccups, patient as the other boys bring their hands to the back of the ravenette and rub soothing circles onto his body.

“You have Kenny, you’ll be alright. Be there for each other when I’m not there, okay? Promise to take care of each other, for me.” My voice cracks midway and at this point the group’s sniffles are all that can be heard in the meeting room, every other officer watching in silent pity.

Stan clears his throat, willing his rough voice to cooperate with him. “N/N. Are you okay? Please, talk to me. Tell me anything.” Although happy beyond belief to finally be able to hear his other half again, he can’t help but to be wary at the call. There’s a slight distrust there, suspicious in wondering if the allowance of communication meant that they had a demand or negotiation to make. 

“I can't say much, they’re here with me.” 

They? That could be anybody, everyone in the room thinks in dread. It could be multiple people or just one person involved with the disappearance. It could be male, female, or other and that doesn’t help with deducting the pool of suspects at all.

“I'm okay, though. Don’t worry about me, I just miss you all.” A wave of confusion hits the boys at once because why the hell wouldn’t they worry about me? Their minds go blank at the ridiculous request, almost appalled at my words. 

“We miss you too, babe. Of course we do.” Kenny rushes to reassure me, not wanting to further upset his already distressed significant other or cause an insecurity that he wouldn’t be able to properly sooth due to my unknown whereabouts. 

“It’s weird, isn’t it? I don't think I've ever gone this long without seeing any of you.” No one says anything when I softly speak into the phone because it’s true. And it’s not right, it’s just as absurd as someone claiming that the Earth is flat. The group as a whole is like a given fact and right now, a puzzle piece is missing and the boys are frantic in finding it.

“They let me call on the one condition that I couldn't say anything. This is only so I can hear your voices.”

Jimmy, ever the comedian, tries to lighten up the tense air when the oppressing silence quickly fills up the room again. “W-wuh-what? Already annoyed y-yuh-your captor with your a-ah-award winning personality, baby Marsh?”

I laugh out loud but it sounds broken, the strangled noise sounding more like a sob. “Shut up, you cripple. How are you guys?” And just like that, the boys go back to the recent development of their default expression of frowning. 

Because really..? What exactly was there to say? 

The teens were at a loss for words. They wondered if they could actually talk like it was a normal conversation given the circumstances and the unanswered questions burning through their minds. No one knew what to say—no one knew how to discuss mundane things like the weather or their day, like nothing was out of the ordinary given the elephant in the room. 

At the answering silence, I’m meek as I speak up again. “Stan, can you do something for me..? Can you tell mom, dad, and Shelley that I love them?” 

Everyone immediately stands at attention as they feel their stomachs sink because those words were dangerous.

“What? No, fuck you.” He starts getting increasingly hysterical at the implications of my request. Stan knew it was unfair to get angry but his heart begins to quickly hammer in his chest, cold sweat breaking throughout his whole body because he was beginning to get terrified for his baby sister. 

He emphasizes, all of the blood draining from his face. “If you want to say that then you tell them yourself, in person.”

“Yeah, okay. I'm sorry. I will, it’s just been a while since I’ve said that to them and I just want them to know that I'm okay.” I’m quick to try to bring back a semblance of normalcy back to the conversation, as if it was a routine phone call from a friend that went away for a trip or something. As if it was a casual request to give someone they were missing their love while they were out of town.

“Is Karen doing fine? She's eating properly, right? I don’t want her to worry—Tricia too. I know that they have tests coming up, so please make sure that they’re getting enough sleep and that they focus on their own health. They already worry enough during this time of the year and I don't need them to be distracted with my well being on top of everything else.” I begin to chat like normal, rambling over the phone. 

But it wasn’t normal, because everyone could hear a small sense of urgency in my words like I was trying to get everything out of my system before a set time limit. By now, the last remaining barriers for all the boys have been broken and their tears freely flowed from their sleep deprived eyes. 

I hiccup before I continue, wetly laughing through my tears. “God, I can't believe that they’re in middle school already.”

“Yeah, okay. We’ll do that, beautiful. I promise we will.” Kenny croaks, the boys all stumbling in place from their trembling bodies and leaning against each other in support. Everyone collectively tries to control their breathing and crying so that they can still hear me over the phone, seeking solace from one another. 

I hum in appreciation at the confirmation, unable to see the mess that everyone is in. “How's Ike?”

“Fine.” Kyle forces through his tight throat, only able to let out one word before a sob forces itself out. He presses a hand over his lips, painfully exerting pressure to stop himself from wailing like Clyde. 

This, of course, was an absolute lie. The younger Broflovski has had a permanent look of emptiness after the initial tantrum he threw from hearing the news. The curly haired teen couldn’t bring himself to relay how the elementary schooler has been spending his days at the Marsh residence, locked away in my room and curled up in my bed waiting for me to come home.

“That's good to hear. He has his school play coming up, right?” It was truly maddening, my casual tone. Tweek couldn’t hold it back any longer, his eyes squeezed shut as his shaking hands begins to go back at seizing fistfuls of blonde hair to sharply tug at. 

“You remembered… It’s this weekend.” The red head whispers, his voice wavering because it feels like he’s completely breaking from the inside at the thought of his two younger siblings.

“Of course I did! That’s my little man.” I say fondly, beaming into the phone yet a little offended that the ushanka wearer might have thought that I forgot such an important date.

Nonetheless, I continue. “I know he’ll do good. I helped him practice his lines for weeks, you know? He’s been working so hard. Sometimes when it’s late at night, he’ll call me just to have me listen to him recite his parts over the phone. He’ll whisper it so that Aunt Sheila won’t catch him. I'm so proud of him. I wish I could come see him on the big stage—he really belongs under the spotlight.”

“Wh-of course you can come. I thought you were coming?” Kyle’s words are forceful through gritted teeth, confused anger seeping in as his eyebrows crease.

His words carry the underlying question of why wouldn’t you come? What makes you think that you couldn’t? The hearts of the group horribly clenches in pain because the words, again, allude to something dreadfully worrying.

I wetly laugh, apologetic. “Yeah… I’m sorry. Of course.”

At the empty words, Kenny finally breaks. He just wants to wake up from this nightmare, this ongoing daze of a dream. Because those words were merely meant to placate the teens, not to promise anything. Lips twisted into a grimace, the boys listen to me apologize yet again.

“Princess, don’t do this to me anymore. I can’t fucking take it. I miss you. Please, N/N. Talk to us.” Finally interrupting the small talk, the resolve of the other boys ends. It’s now filled with a verbal onslaught of pain in the meeting room as they can no longer withhold their soft hiccups and gasping sobs.

“Kenny. Craig.” I heavily breathe, willing them to hear my next words through my quick gasps. 

Oh, how they wish they could just pull me to their chests like they usually do and pepper an abundance of soft kisses onto my face in comfort when they hear my voice break.

“I love you.”

Parting words, rushed to desperately convey my words as if time was running out. But there was plenty of time, right?

… Right?

Craig growls, his head shooting out from its position over Kenny’s shoulder. He snatches the phone out of the blonde’s hands and presses it close to his downturned mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare say that to me right now. You say that to my face, you hear me?”

I laugh in affection, “I thought you might say that. You’re always so stubborn.”

Despite the harsh words the ravenette savagely spits at me, I continue to talk. “But I need you both to know. You two were the best things to ever happen to me.” 

Were, why would you say were but not are? 

My next words are like a whisper. Like it was too late. “Always and forever, right? My promise ring—I love it so much. I look at it all the time and smile, it never fails to do that to me. I just wish I could have seen a wedding ring replace it.” 

But before the two boys can protest at their lover’s words of regret, scuffling can be heard. The sound of a struggle on the line paralyzes the bodies of the teens, their eyes growing wide in fear as their breaths come out quickly of the unknown.

“Y-Y/N..?” Jimmy’s voice wobbles, the crutches supporting his body shaking due to its owner's harsh trembling. 

When they hear my voice again, it’s a little further away from the phone and it isn’t in response to any of the guys. “No, please! Just a little while longer.”

“Y/N?!” My brother yells, ripping the cellphone out of the confines of Craig’s already tight grip. 

For the first time since I picked up, the boys desperately look at the other officers in the room but they can only look back at them in sympathy. They were all powerless to the situation, forced to do nothing as they helplessly listen to me beg and struggle. 

“Guys, I'm sorry! Stan! I love you! Craig! Kenny! I love you!” I sound even further away this time, my voice muffled and more distorted. Like I was shouting from the distance in a fierce effort to be heard as the space between the phone and I quickly increases. 

“Kyle! I lo—” 

No more words, just the dial tone.

“Y/N!” Everyone yells at the same time but it’s already too late, futile in its message of reaching me. 

Nothing. It’s silent again.

When the phone falls from my brother’s loosening grip, the sound of it hitting the carpeted floor of the boardroom orchestrates an influx of noise. The officers around the boys spring back into life as Yates barks out orders while all the detectives begin to shoot out theories.

Something the boys have been praying for just leaves them feeling drained and hollow, their lifeless eyes staring at one another in complete hopelessness. They hear a passing detective that makes their way to exit the room with another, mumbling to his partner as they pass by the boys.

Their companion loudly shushes them with an elbow to the side as they shoot the motionless teens a wary look, but it’s too late. They heard what he said and it just voices out into existence the terrifying thing that is going through everyone’s minds right now—the thought that everyone didn’t have the courage to acknowledge to themselves 

That was a goodbye, wasn’t it..?

song: [everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears]

a/n: i have to admit, adding this song to this chapter was rather indulgent on my end because i absolutely LOVE this song!! the lyrics are so profound to me and i just decided to incorporate these lyrics to this part because it really matched up with what was going on so i thought, why not? :)

#south park #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #craig tucker x reader #kenny mccormick #craig tucker #south park fanfiction #lalawrites

[linkbetweenlinks]

Hi!! Its me again, i have consumed all fics in one day, tho i allready read one of the longer ones!

Do you have anymore recs? The chain meeting wild for the fist time is allways fun and mabey add a bit of "wtf is wild doing??" Into the mix, sneeky wild could also be very fun! Like wild plays hide and seek with the koroks so something using those skills might be fun! ^-^

Also i read a fic inspierd by wilding (cant remember name) where wild takes on a princess mononoke like role, if you have any recs like that id love to read them!!!

-a shy annon

PS, i read very fast, a around 50 chapter long fic might last me at mosly around 5 days or just count it as less then a week, and thats if you give it a generus estamate, i bindged around 1000 chapters from a long webbnovel in less then a month reacently xd

You are a beast anon and I love you for it, so I will do my best to support your dreams of apparently reading every single wild-centric lu fic. Who know, you might just eventually do what I did and organise fics from date posted and just read every single one of them...

The Ruins series - this series has that chain exploring Wild's hyrule aspect, mixed with a bit of fighting and a bit of angst

The Scenic Route - no fighting, unless you count great fairies accosting Wild as fighting

The Sense of Smell Holds your Strongest Memories - no fighting, sorta. Poor Wild has a horrid memory and angst ensues.

Cautionary Tale - this one feels like a "chain meets Wild" but it's a week later. It glosses over any fighting as it's largely a character study, tis a good one tho

First Meetings - chain meets Wild, honesty this is mostly just fluff. It's one of the few that Wild reacts decently well to being asked to join them, and that's a rarity

a wolf and his boy - chain meets wild (tho it's not the first time for twi) and this is just wholesome

Red Fur and Blue Magic - this is a really new one that you admittedly may have read, but I found it as a sorta refreshing chain meets wild fic. koroks and foxes and yiga oh my!

Blending In - very short, quite funny. Wild could give Time a run for his money with the masks he has

your eyes, they tell a story - less chain meets wild, more wild meets chain. A lot of justified panic and confusion on wild's part

The Cucco Attack Squad - ok here me out, cuccos (this isn't as wild-centric but seriously, cuccos)

I'll stop here for now! I know I am absolutely terrible at meeting your demands specifically, so I hope you don't lose faith in me. I'll always be here to give fic recs (but pls understand that angst is my comfort zone so that might pop up more and more you ask)

#linked universe #lu #lu wild #botw #breath of the wild #lu fic

[narancias-headband]

More Fugo Headcanons

He's been on my mind again...

He's always cold. Touching his hands is jarring because of how chilly his skin is. Maybe if he wore clothes that weren't full of holes...

Awful seasonal allergies. If he forgets to take his allergy meds during springtime, his eyes water and nose runs constantly. Luckily, the cheap OTC stuff is enough to ward off the symptoms.

So many little self soothing tics that he does absentmindedly. Unfortunately, most of them are harmful. Digging his nails into his hands, getting frustrated with himself for doing that and then chewing his nails down so short they start bleeding.

Likes his tea with too much honey in it and his coffee with too much sugar in it.

Usually quite meek and soft spoken. He tends to say little more than what he needs to, and tries to use the most concise wording possible. Every now and then he'll ramble and word vomit and over share, but he usually ends up very embarrassed by it. It's usually to Narancia and Narancia doesn't care because that's how he talks normally

He will forget to eat. If someone doesn't summon him for dinner or remind him to eat something, he simply won't think about it. When he's finally hungry enough to notice, it's usually super late and he chooses to just go to bed instead. This is probably the times he goes to bed the earliest.

He's a pot stirrer and an instigator. He loves to see drama unfold. If he can make it so much more intense by bringing up that one thing, he's going to. This is probably his strongest relationship builder with Abbacchio, so long as they're not working against each other.

Was a goody two shoes growing up and never ever swore. Even hearing someone else swear would make him nervous. Shortly after joining up with Bucciarati, Fugo went through a serious potty mouth phase. He's since toned it way down, but cursing definitely doesn't make him nervous anymore.

PALE. He's so pale. He could use white paint as foundation. He tans really easily and quickly, but he spends very little time out in the sunlight.

His nose is tied directly to his memories. Smells take him right back, more than anything else. When Abbacchio first joined the team, Fugo would feel super uneasy around him some days and just fine on others. Turns out, one of the colognes Abbacchio had in his rotation was the same one that Fugo's old professor used to wear... Something strong and expensive that never failed to initiate Fugo's fight or flight. After he figured it out, Abbacchio retired that one from his collection, no questions asked.

#ugh i admit it #i kin fugo #some of these may just be me projecting once again #golden wind #jjba part 5 #jjba #jjba headcanons #pannacotta fugo #fugo

[eddysocs]

Safe In My Memories (Stephen Strange x Everett Ross x OC)

Summary: Farrah falls prey to a nasty spell and a magically induced coma that traps her in an old memory may be the only way to save her, if she can make it out, that is.

Word Count: 2,099

Warnings: Magic induced coma, slight amnesia, time loop, some angst

"She’s wildly unstable, Strange," Dr. Banner informed the sorcerer. "I honestly don’t know if she’ll make it."

"She'll make it," Stephen replied matter of factly. She had to make it. Farrah was the single strongest woman he knew and if she couldn’t pull through this, well then what hope did anyone else have? "I can magically induce a coma," he suggested, the thought just having come to him.

"Magic is far from my expertise, but that sounds dangerous."

"No more dangerous than standing here watching her possibly die. The coma will trap her in a memory until she’s strong enough to break free and wake up back here in the real world."

"If you think it'll help her chances, then go ahead. We'll still be here to monitor her vitals." With permission having been granted, Stephen, aided by Wanda, readied themselves for the spell that would essentially trap Farrah in her own head until she was strong enough to come out on her own. If she would ever be strong enough for that remained the only variable.

Farrah woke to the sound of her alarm. The sun shone in her window and she felt energized, ready for the day. She looked up at the calendar and smiled. It was her birthday. She smelled her favorite, French toast with fresh strawberries, cooking in the kitchen. She got out of bed and tied up her hair in a messy bun, before padding out to the kitchen in her white sleep shirt with a little red elephant on it and her red sleep shorts.

"Morning, birthday girl. Happy 26th. You didn’t have to get up. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed."

"It’s okay. I wanted to get up. That way I can watch you cook." Farrah's smile was as warm as the morning sun as she beamed at Everett, slaving away at the stove. She put her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder as she watched him prepare her birthday breakfast. When the food was ready he turned off the burner and snuck in a quick kiss to Farrah's cheek before she let him go.

They ate together, Farrah more than happy to share her meal with him. "I took the day off," Everett announced out of the blue.

"You didn’t," she argued. "Not just for me."

"Of course, for you. Is it so bad that I want to be with my girl on her birthday?"

Farrah leaned over and kissed him. "I really did get lucky with you, didn’t I?"

After breakfast, they washed and dried the dishes together at the sink. "So how do you want to spend your day," Everett asked.

"Oh, I don’t know," Farrah feigned, "I think there’s a pretty comfy looking bed in the other room. I guess I’d like to spend my time there with a handsome man beside me."

"I wish you had told me that sooner, I would have ordered one," Everett joked. Farrah swatted his arm and they laughed, retiring to the bedroom. They cuddled up together as Everett put on Farrah's favorite show on Netflix to watch in the background. The day passed them by in a blur of snuggles, snacks and reluctant separations when one of them had to get up. Before they knew it, it was dark out. Farrah yawned despite her best efforts not to. She wasn’t ready for the day to end yet.

She huddled close to Everett under the covers, drifting off into the comfort of sleep. But the comfort did not last long. Farrah soon found herself falling in pitch black darkness. She recognized it as a dream, but could not wake herself from it. Dread crept in under her skin, crawling it’s way through her. It felt all too real, all too familiar, but it wasn’t like any nightmare she’d had before. She finally landed with a thud, darkness still engulfing the area around her, so thick she could not make out her surroundings. Yet she felt something sinister in the air. A name echoed in her head. Dormammu. It echoed so loudly, she thought her skull would crack. Why did it sound so familiar? Before she could think on it too long, she was falling again through the expanse of blackness.

Farrah woke with a jolt and sat upright in bed. It was now bright out, the early light of daybreak, the darkness fully dispersed. It was then her alarm went off. Still shaken, she took in a deep breath of air and tried to shake away the nightmare. Then she glanced to her calendar. It was her birthday.

The smell of breakfast reached her next, her favorite. Everett must have gotten up early just to make it for her. But as she got up, she felt like she was moving on autopilot. Like she’d done this all before. Deja vu, that’s all it was. Happened to everyone right? Just…not usually to her.

Choosing to throw it in as just a remnant of her nightmare, Farrah went out to the kitchen, where her muddled thoughts faded away as she was greeted with Everett's handsome face. "Morning baby," she greeted.

"You’re in a great mood," he remarked.

"Just happy to see you, and it is my birthday. Almost feels like it was just yesterday though."

Everett quirked an eyebrow at her. "Yeah? Well in that case, finish making your own breakfast," he teased.

"Mean! It’s my birthday, you have to be nice to me." She hated to repeat that it was her birthday, but she was still having a hard time believing it for some reason. Maybe she was just having an off day.

And so her birthday passed as almost any other day would. Some more quality time with Everett than she’d usually get, but she hardly wanted to complain about that. Just a quiet, relaxing day that ended in falling asleep with Everett spooning her.

Once again, however, darkness and dread plagued her sleep. The same name echoed in her head, the same dark, creeping feeling in her bones and it all felt like she’d lived it, and was reliving it again. Something was wrong.

Farrah woke with a start, to a bright and sunny day just like the day before. Yet she swore rain had been forecasted. She looked to her clock and stopped it just before the alarm went off. Then she glanced at the calendar. Her birthday? No. Not again.

She rushed to the kitchen and at seeing the look of panic on her face, Everett began to worry. "Is everything alright?"

"I don’t think so. Everett. I don’t think I belong here."

"I think you just had a nightmare," he suggested, but that only seemed to anger her.

"No," she insisted, becoming progressively more distressed. "It wasn’t just a nightmare. I think I'm…stuck in the past." She realized she sounded crazy, but she was starting to believe herself. This wasn’t right. She’d done this before, and it felt like a distant but safe memory. So what was it keeping her safe from?

She needed to figure this out on her own. Farrah, at a loss to explain her concerns to Everett when she didn’t have any solid answers herself, dashed back off to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. Something had to give her a clue. Then she recalled the name from her dream. "Dormammu," she spoke aloud in a whisper, and her head once again had that splitting pain as images passed through her mind. Pressing her hands against her temples, she was taken to the dark. So much darkness, but through it, a face, blurry, but present. Familiar to her, but not enough that she could place it.

The headache passed and the images, however fleeting, now faded completely. She released the pressure she’d put on her temples and contemplated her next move. She didn’t want to repeat this day again, in case she forgot what little of the pieces she could put together. She thought of contacting S.H.I.E.L.D. but the red tape she’d need to get through would only slow her down. So that left her with one decent option. She’d have to go back to sleep.

She came back out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen where Everett was still waiting for her. "I love you," she said, trying to keep the tears from welling in her eyes. She stepped close and kissed him, her hand caressing his cheek, feeling the familiar shape of his jaw with her finger. She had no idea if this would be goodbye, and she didn’t want to leave anything unsaid.

Her plan wasn’t as easy as she hoped. She had to resort to locking Everett out of the room to prevent interruption, and turning on her meditation tapes, a relic she had kept around from her childhood. Her mother had used them and while there were many apps for such things now, she preferred the old reliable method. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she drifted off.

The meditation tapes served to help her take control of her dream, knowing it for what it was now. The key to unlocking her current situation was in there, she just had to sift through the dark to find it.

Farrah shut her eyes and focused. She tried to bring a light into her mind to banish the darkness, a skill she didn’t know if she possessed, but it felt right to her somehow. And it worked, the light was dim, but helped her to navigate this dreamscape. And the face reappeared. It seemed to be trying to speak to her, but she could not hear any sound. She simply focused on the face until it came to her clearly. A man, dark hair, streaked with gray on either side, facial hair, piercing blue gray eyes. Stephen. The name came back to her in an instant and she knew it to be correct. The face belonged to Dr. Stephen Strange. And she knew him. He’d saved her, in a way.

The details still hadn’t settled in her mind, but she remembered dark turning into light, and his face had been the first thing she’d seen after. Now she needed to hear him. What he had to say must be important, and then she could get out of there and back to her life. His voice was brought to the forefront of her mind, and she could finally make out his words, through much concentrated effort.

"Wake up. Come home. Use your magic."

So she was trapped in her head. She’d been right about that. But magic? She possessed no magic. Did she? The light, she suddenly realized. Perhaps the light was her magic. She went back into her head, bringing the light back until it blazed so bright her head began to hurt again. She just had to push a little harder, go towards it, not shirk away. And the light engulfed her at last.

When Farrah opened her eyes again, she initially thought she had failed. The beeping she assumed to be from her alarm clock was her one indicator, but then she focused in on her surroundings and found that she wasn’t in her bed, but in a hospital and the beeping was a monitor she herself was hooked up to. Still dazed, and in a fair amount of bodily pain, she weakly called out. "Everett?"

"She’s awake," a feminine voice shouted, and she was aware of several people rushing into the room.

Her present had not fully caught up with her yet, so it took her a moment to recognize the faces at her bedside. Wanda Maximoff, Bruce Banner and— Stephen Strange. His eyes held the most worry of them all and the most relief. And in that instant, caught in his eyes, Farrah remembered it all.

The Dark Dimension. Strange freeing her. The time that had passed since she’d been there. Everett had aged. She hadn’t. She hadn’t even seen him since she had escaped that hell. The last time she’d seen him was her twenty sixth birthday. That’s why she’d been trapped in that memory. And now she was with Stephen. Nearly a year now they’d been together. No wonder why he seemed so concerned and relieved that she’d woken up. The spell she’d been hit with had been powerful indeed, but somehow they’d managed to restore her to herself. But she had so many loose ends yet to tie up. But at least her healing could begin.

Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @borg-queer, @foxesandmagic, @connietheecunning, @chickensarentcheap

Farrah Quan: @adrianas-ocs-and-such, @dollvi3e

#oc: farrah quan #fc: sonam kapoor #fd: marvel #farrah x stephen #farrah x everett #stephen strange #everett ross #tropetember

[elementalladymallorie]

Small Moments and Small Gestures that Make a Home

The Scent You Wish You Could Put in a Candle

It's time for Chopper's little moments to follow after Robin and Nami.

This time I went off of the SBS answers mentioning what each member smells like, because it was honestly the easiest and most obvious for Chopper.

Word Count: 1K

AO3 link

Scent is one of the strongest things tied to memory. Sometimes all you need is to catch a whiff of something you haven't smelled in a long time, and then your transported back into nostalgia and days gone past.

It was always easy to get lost in work, Chopper was no stranger to that. He’d been really focused on the batch of slides he was examining, to the point that he’d almost missed lunch. Which would not have flown on the Thousand Sunny, and apparently someone other than Sanji was elected to come get him.  

The footsteps had been too light, and when the door opened it was the scent of flowers that followed. 

 Chopper pulled back from his microscope he moves to set the slide back into their place, not looking in the direction of the door as he asks “Robin! Can I help you with something?” 

“Robin?” The question is not at all in Robin’s voice, and this caused Chopper to blink as he turned in his chair to look and see Nami standing in the doorway, confusion evident on her face. 

A look that was mirrored on the reindeer’s face as he sniffed the air again. There was still a floral scent coming through the doorway, from Nami even, but underneath that was the familiar citrus scent he’d come to know.  

Both stared at each other a moment more. 

“You changed your scent!” Chopper’s surprise was probably unwarranted, but he’d blame it on just how focused he’d been mere moments ago.  

“My scent?” Nami only looked more confused, hands coming to rest on her hips as she eyed the little reindeer.  

“You smelled like Robin!” It’s his only defense and he’s sure he looks flustered, but he’s already moving to get out of his chair, knowing exactly what she was sent here to get him for and wanting to hurry out before he embarrasses himself further.  

“Like Robin?” Nami moves just enough to let him past her and out to the dining area. She stands there a moment longer before her face lights up in understanding “Oh! You must mean my perfume!” 

“Perfume? What are you talking about perfume for?” The conversation has now moved into the main room and Franky is leaning back against his chair to look at them curiously. 

“Chopper thought I was Robin. He says I smell like her right now.” Nami shuts the door behind them, moving to take her seat while Sanji starts to lay out their lunch for the day. 

“You do kind of! When I realized it though I can still smell your scent underneath it!” Chopper’s hopping up into his chair, trying to not look embarrassed at the mistake. 

“And Nami’s perfume makes her smell like me?” Robin asks, curious as always but voice still kind in a way that’s reserved mostly for Chopper. 

He nods, fiddling his hooves together a little “Yeah. It smelled like flowers, and you always smell like flowers. Nami smells mostly like mikan, but kind of like money too. I can still smell it under the perfume when I focus.” 

“Wait, you can smell stuff like that?” Usopp’s looking between Nami and Robin, “I didn’t even notice Nami’s perfume until she showed it to me earlier.” 

“Of course, I can! I’m a reindeer! I know what all of you smell like!” Chopper’s reaching for food, which prompts the others too as well as if they don’t then Luffy’s gonna eat everything. 

“Even me?” It’s Brook that asks, sincerely curious due to his odd state of being. And this was a fair question since bones likely wouldn’t give much of a scent beyond likely decay. 

“Yup! You smell like tea!” Chopper chirps, smiling brightly at the skeleton. “I don’t really know how it works, but you do.”  

That sends Brook into a round of laughter, and Usopp grins, propping his chin on his hand as he asks “Brook smells like tea, Nami like mikan and money, and Robin like flowers. What about the rest of us?” 

Chopper looks around at the rest of his friends, and they all look curious enough so he thinks about it. He’s got their scents memorized to the point that he recognizes them right away most of the time, so he actually has to think to name them. 

“U-um, w-well you smell like gunpowder.” That doesn’t really seem to surprise Usopp, likely because he’s always working with it. “Zoro smells like steel.” A fitting smell for a swordsman if you asked Chopper, it’s a strong scent just like their swordsman who shrugs. 

“Luffy smells like meat.” That gets everyone to laugh, because it’s not even a specific type of meat, he just smells like meat. “Sanji smells like cigarettes and seafood.” Sanji makes a gesture with the cigarette he's currently smoking, like he can accept and live with that scent. 

“Franky smells like cola.” Which is entirely fair considering the cyborg runs off of it. “And Jinbei smells like the sea. Sometimes it hard to tell him a part from the actual sea.” Jinbei shrugs off the sheepish admission, and it’s not really that surprising a scent itself. 

“What about you?” Usopp prompts, brow quirked and waiting.  

“How should I know what I smell like?!” Chopper yelled, indignation clear in both his voice and face as he snapped. “I can’t smell myself!” 

Usopp holds his hand up in surrender, and a few others laugh. “Sorry! I was just curious because you know what the rest of us smell like!”  

Chopper has an argument ready, but it’s cut off when he feels a pair of rubbery limbs wrap around him. He has a chance to yelp before Luffy’s face is being shoved into his fur and the rubber man is taking a deep breath. 

There a few protests at the action, mostly said with fond exasperation that is common when dealing with Luffy, but it doesn’t deter their captain in the least.  

Luffy just grins, looking down at Chopper when he pulls back. He laughs when Chopper tilts his head in confusion and proudly declares “Chopper smells like a reindeer and the ani-skeptic stuff.” 

“Of course, he smells like a reindeer. He is a reindeer.” Sanji says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, which it honestly probably is. 

“Ani-skeptic?” It’s Jinbei that asks that, looking around at their crew to get clarification.  

“ Antiseptic. It’s called antiseptic, Luffy.” Chopper clarifies for both of them. 

“That’s what I said.” 

“It’s really not.” Nami sound very done at the moment and returns her attention to her meal. 

“Well, I guess that means we know what everyone smells like now.”  Zoro looks like he’s only been paying half attention to what’s been going on, and gives his full attention back to his meal as well. 

It works in effectively having everyone return to their lunch, and Luffy sets Chopper gently before hurrying back to his own seat, stealing bits of food as he does. 

Chopper sits there for a moment, thinking over what Luffy said, and burying his face in his hooves for a moment. He thinks of the missing scents of cactus flowers and sand and the wood of a caravel that had been born in the East Blue. How he didn’t quite realize that carved woods had different scents until he had to adjust to the Adam wood of their new lion. It didn’t make him happy to have a scent to be included with his crew, with the smells that mixed to make their home, and brought them all comfort when they were finally home together where it was safe. 

It absolutely did not, and anyone who said otherwise was a lying bastard. 

#one piece #tony tony chopper #one piece chopper #fluff #writings #i don't really know if I need any more tags?

[dylanadreams]

I don't know if any of you are into perfume, but I love it quite a lot, so I'm gonna post about it from time to time. A fun little way you can use perfume is if something special in your life is coming up (could be just a vacation or something) and you want to remember it, you can pick a specific perfume to wear, and in the future when you smell that perfume, you'll have those memories tied to it. Scent memory is actually the strongest form of memory.

"Scents are the only sensations that travel directly to the emotional and memory centers of the brain, where learning and memory formation take place. Studies have shown that odor serves as a stronger trigger than any other sensory cue for recalling personally meaningful memories. Scents that soothed children can continue to alleviate stress and anxiety for the entirety of adulthood. Associative memory can work for any sense, and smell is no exception."

[atarahderek]

Function Pairs and What They Share

According to Carl Jung, the cognitive functions never act alone, but rather in complementary pairs. Perceiving functions act alongside their opposing function of opposing orientation, and so do Judging functions. So even when you're actively using your dominant function, its complement is always right there, supporting it (and sometimes nagging and distracting it). Of course, this can only mean that the function pairs must share something other than class. What common goal do they pursue? What common interests do they have? After much consideration, I believe I've figured it out.

Extroverted Sensing and introverted iNtuition

Se is the function of the here and now. It likes to stop and smell the flowers. It lives for the moment. It's interested in self-gratification. Meanwhile, Ni is a very focused function. It has a series of short term goals that it uses to build to a long term goal, or just a steady future in general. It thrives on accomplishment. Both of these functions are very closely tied to the reward center of the brain. Both pursue gratification, albeit usually different kinds and in different ways. But neither likes to delay gratification for too long. Both of these functions can lead to a depressed state when left unfulfilled. This is how they work well together, to achieve the same goal of getting those rewarding endorphins.

Se/Ni - Reward motivated

Extroverted iNtuition and introverted Sensing

Ne is the function of imagination and possibility. It likes to take a good look at the big picture, then hone in on the details. It likes to keep its options open, and prefers to envision the distant future and the grander goal. Si is the function of nostalgia, memory and pattern recognition. It prefers to act on precedent. It looks for the best route forward based on the route that it has already taken, and that others have taken before it. Both of these functions love puzzles--and not just the jigsaw kind (that's more Ne's area of expertise). They love to explore together and find new ways forward based on what they learn from the good ol' days. They can both become hyperfixated and fail to acknowledge the immediate world around them. They work well together when they have a goal of discovery and problem solving. They share a love of finding their way.

Ne/Si - Navigation

Extroverted Feeling and introverted Thinking

Fe is the empath function. It's the function of nurturing and compassion. It focuses on growth and emotional outreach. Ti is the logic function. It's the function of cause to effect; action and consequence. It focuses on figuring out how things work, and is disciplined in its pursuits. And it doesn't hold back in its honesty. Basically, these functions are like your mom and dad, respectively. They work well together when Fe reminds Ti to temper its truths with compassion, and when Ti tells Fe it's okay to let go of the bike. Of the function pairs, these two couldn't be more different yet more suited to one another. And they share an unparalleled ability to grow a healthy and well-rounded you.

Fe/Ti - Parenthood

Extroverted Thinking and introverted Feeling

Te is the leadership function. It likes to bounce ideas off of others. It prefers to build a solid team. And it believes that the team is only as strong as its weakest member. Thus it will go to great lengths to see that its weakest member is stronger than the strongest member of the other guy's team. Fi is the idealist function. It believes everything has a purpose. It pursues potential in itself and all those around it. It likes to encourage others to tap into that potential and achieve it even when the odds are against them. Both of these functions are highly altruistic (not that Te will admit to it at times). They both root for the underdog because the underdog's success is everyone's success. Together they create a strong team capable of achieving anything.

Te/Fi - Fight for the underdog

Needless to say, your functions can't operate properly unless they operate in pairs. They simply aren't complete without one another. And neither are you. Even though your dominant and inferior functions get on each other's nerves more often than not, they still need each other, and you need them both. You can't truly use them individually, at least not without becoming unhealthy. And eventually they do learn from your auxiliary and tertiary functions how to work as one cohesive unit. When you achieve that stage in your life, you will be a wise, emotionally balanced elder in your village.

No, seriously, we don't start developing our inferior function until at least our late 30s, and it takes the rest of our lives to complete that process. So by the time your inferior function is mature, you'll be telling your grandkids about the good ol' days when all you had to rely on was ol' Dominant.

#Myers-Briggs Type Indicator #MBTI #cognitive functions #Carl Jung #psychology #INFP thoughts

[power-chords]

My phone went off during first period Latin class, and Dr. Murphy scolded me. It was one of those massive clamshell abominations because that was what cell phones looked like in 2001. I saw that my dad was calling and felt a flash of intense annoyance because I knew that he knew better than to try and call me in the middle of a school day. That is my strongest memory I have from back then, lol. Being real pissed at my dad. Aside from, of course, the plumes of smoke and the acrid industrial burning smell. Which was there for months and months and months. My strongest sense memory tied to a specific time and place, aside from...... a very particular combination of burnt cheap coffee and floor cleaner, and what the inside of the Natural Sciences building at SUNY Purchase smells like.

#and then the whole city was in a state of protracted psychosis for what. at least until the financial crisis #rewatching The 25th Hour recently was very illuminating because it gives you an acute sense of just how INSANE 9/11 made new york writers #spike lee is perhaps not the best example because he is an aggravated new york sentimentalist to begin with #but everybody went fully off the rails for at least five years

[rabbitcruiser]

National Sense Of Smell Day

Take some time to stop and smell the roses—literally. National Sense of Smell Day is for appreciating the many scents our noses can pick up  and enjoy.

In the dark annals of history it served to protect us from danger as  we came down from the trees and raised ourselves onto two feet. So  strongly attached to our development is it that it is connected to  multiple different neurological systems, and as such can trigger  memories in a way that little else can.

With it we can identify our favorite dish, or pick up the wafting  scent of our favorite person, that’s right, Sense of Smell Day is  dedicated to this most amazing of our (far more than five) senses.

History of Sense of Smell

The Sense of Smell Institute sponsors this holiday for reasons so  obvious we needn’t mention it. The importance of the sense of smell is  often overlooked, and some don’t truly appreciate how much of a role it  plays in every day of our lives.

Some of the most important and comforting things we can experience  are intricately tied to our sense of smell, and our sense of smell  becomes much less discerning without it. The Sense of Smell Institute is  the research and education division of The Fragrance Foundation.

Interesting things that this institute has managed to unveil is the fact that no two people smell odors  in quite the same way. As the day progresses your sense of smell gets  stronger, with the evening representing our strongest sense of smell.

This makes a certain amount of sense when you consider that during the day our sight  is the most important sense in identifying dangers, and at night, it  could be a scent on the wind that saved our ancestors. Another  interesting revelation is that Vitamin A is not, as purported, good for  our eyesight by and large, but is actually vitally important for our  sense of smell. A lack of it can actually cause Anosmia! (An odd little  word that means ‘loss of a sense of smell’.)

How to celebrate Sense of Smell Day

The best way to celebrate Sense of Smell Day is to give our little  sniffer a work-out. Try savoring new scents throughout the day, and  really take some time to appreciate all the various odors that cross  your path.

While it was generally a feast for all the sense, you can even get  together with friends and play a game called “The Pleasure Room”, where  you take turns trying to identify things by smell.

Maybe even set up some surprises and get smells that are really close  to each other, or smell very much alike but are from incredibly  different sources. All sorts of fun can be had on Sense of Smell Day!

Source

#apple #pear #lavender #St. Francis Winery & Vineyards #Louis M. Martini Winery #Beringer Vineyards #Brix Restaurant & Gardens #rose #St. Helena #National Sense Of Smell Day #California #Colorado #travel #vacation #USA #nature #flora #flower #NationalSenseOfSmellDay #last Saturday in April #27 April 2024 #original photography #tourist attraction #cityscape

[sam-rhodehamel]

Music and Memory

A Story of Valuable Musical Experiences

Memories of Music

Music has always been a constant presence in my life, so much so that I can use it as a timeline. Recalling my earliest memories takes me to the backseat of my Mom’s 1995 Volvo V70. I’m six years old and on my way to Kindergarten, driving past the San Gabriel Mountains of Los Angeles Valley on a sunny day. The music that takes me back to those early morning jam sessions? A mix of Depeche Mode and Senegalese nursery rhymes. My mom switched exclusively between two CDs on those drives. Depeche Mode’s 80s lamenting classic ‘Black Celebration (Deluxe)’ and World Playground’s ‘Musical Adventure for Kids’ a medley of children’s songs from Ireland to Bolivia. 

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that those songs still carry such strong imagery and can take me back to the earliest crevices of my childhood memory so easily. Music, like nothing else, opens our memory vaults (Fabiny, 2015). In his work, ‘Music, Memory, Emotion’, Lutz Jancke furthers this stating, “Emotions enhance memory processes and music evokes strong emotions, music could be involved in forming memories, either about pieces of music or about episodes and information associated with particular music,”. This intertwining of sound and emotions is crucial to how I understand my relationship with music. This interlinked quality of the everyday experience of listening led me to eventually make my own music even though I never considered myself a musician and never thought I could do something like that. However unsure I was of my own musical talents, I always was so emotionally tied to the music I was listening to through the years that it seemed inevitable.

 In her article, ‘Why music causes memories to flood back’, Washington Post reporter Marlene Cimons explains this observation stating, “This ability of music to conjure up vivid memories is a phenomenon well known to brain researchers. It can trigger intense recollections from years past — for many, more strongly than other senses such as taste and smell — and provoke strong emotions from those earlier experiences,”. Although sound surprisingly isn’t the strongest linked sense to memory, that would be a smell, research shows music is strongly connected to memory recall (Wallace, 2023). David Wallace in his piece ‘Memories’ explains, “Research has shown that hearing words associated with sounds, rather than just the sounds alone, can aid memory. Music is also a huge proponent in nostalgia and memory recall, like those songs that transports you back in time,”. This intrinsic connection between our nostalgic propensities and the sounds we hear helps me understand how the music I have listened to throughout my life can serve as such an anchor at different stages in my identity and eventual own creation. The way music is able to tie in our memory and our tastes is part of why I think it is such a big part of the human experience. 

The Scene

Just as movies are carefully scored to music, I think the stages of our lives are too. The way we consume and listen to music changes over time but its effect on humans is clear. From the earliest instruments like the 60,000-year-old Neanderthal bone flute found in the caves of Slovenia (Narodni Muzej Slovenije, 2023) to the high-tech electronic producing equipment of today, music's influence on our emotions and world is clear. This influence has always been present for me. Growing up music greatly shaped my sense of identity and my feelings.

As a teenager growing up in Southern California, the grunge DIY record label Burger Records ruled the scene. With an aesthetic that can only be described as, ‘cheap, messy, in praise of kicks and deep feelings rendered clumsily: three-chord guitar songs through trebly, reverb-ed amps about girlfriends, boyfriends, food, intoxicants, crushes, sex, breaking up, other bands’ (Ratliff, 2014). I spent every weekend on the blacktop parking lot of their premier venue, The Observatory, in the throws off ‘the pit’ while local punk and surf curse bands who would later rise to stardom played grainy guitar riffs and screamed untrained vocals about drugs, alcohol, and hating their parents. It was through this cult record labels subculture that I found my teenage identity. I developed my friend group and sense of self through these weekly concerts and festivals. This world of cigarette smoke and indie bands informed how I dressed, how I danced, and how I viewed the world. Growing up in the only conservative district of California and being an almost painfully angsty teen, I was so happy to finally have a place where I felt I could rebel and be myself. This was the first time I remember feeling strongly connected to music of my own choosing.  

Music Breeds Subculture

Music is often the uniting factor of many subcultures, demonstrating how the emotions music makes us feel can become our realities. As a teenager, you often feel like the world is against you. The growing pains of teenagehood often led to many sad nights, but finding music I felt so strongly related to my experience of the world into sound seemed to turn the pain into something unifying. Plus, music has even been proven to help with depression and anxiety (Tapper, 2020).

In his work, ‘Towards a critical understanding of music, emoticons, and identity’ David Hesmondhalgh examines this connection between music consumption and self-identity writing that music, “Represents a meeting point of the private and public realms, providing encounters of self-identity. This is who I am. This is who I am not,” This is contrasted with the collective identity of who WE are which I found on those hot Summer days underneath the Eucalyptus trees that dotted The Observatory parking lot. In this work, Hesmondhalgh also reflects on the group feeling during a powerful and moving concert where yes, we experience the music as individuals but also in some fleeting way experience the music together, collectively. He explains, “Our excitement or sadness can be intensified through the sense that such emotions in response to a particular piece of music are shared,”.  The shared love for this lo-fi angry punk music drove a feeling of unity through the crowd as we all thrashed around and screamed along. 

Throughout history, subcultures of new identities formed by shared musical experiences entrench the histories we share and learn. Madison Unruh explores these histories in her work ‘7 Subcultures’ stating, “Sometimes a genre of music is so dynamic, the fans assemble together with a similar look, ideas, and values that the fans themselves become a cultural phenomenon,”. This shared passion for sound unites communities and informs how they look, act, and sound. However, not every person in a subculture follows every ‘rule’ or fits every stereotype (Unruh, 2023). 

Easily the most well-known subculture, Punk dominated the US and UK scenes in the mid-1970s with its anti-establishment ideology and rock music (Unruh, 2023). Punk also had an extremely distinct fashion as most of these music-based cultures do. Black, leather, studs, spikes, and tattoos are all associated with punk music fans. The way music shapes identities in this way is undoubted. This influence also greatly shapes political views as well.

In his work ‘Music & Politics’, John Street lays a masterful groundwork for understanding how music can shape political ideologies. Street explains that the reason people often trouble at the thought of music and politics intertwinement stems from their inability to see how connected the two are, “Confusion stems from the thought that music and politics are two discrete realms of the human experience and endeavour. One is concerned with the organisation of public life; the other with the creative use of sound and the appreciation of its beauties and meanings,”. Street goes on to explain how interlinked these two fields are citing protest songs and censored musical messages. Music carries a message. It makes us feel. It inspires us. We relate to it. All these qualities make music a perfect unifier when it comes to a political message, such as punk music’s harsh-sounding pro-freedom anti-establishment lyrics and attitude. 

Beatniks, mods, and screamo fans alike find community and self-identity through connection with a music scene. Music sets the status for what’s popular in fashion as well (Ford, 2020) which in turn shapes our identity further. This shows how strongly entrenched our emotions, identities, and lives are with the music we consume and make.

Finding Taste on the Internet 

My taste in music and the eventual music I made has always been informed by its entrenchment in my identity. This enrichment and exploration was made possible by the internet.  In my younger years, I listened to the music I was shown. As I started gaining some autonomy as a young teenager I began exploring different realms of music for myself. Listening to music my family wouldn’t have approved of in secret. Rap music with curse words, explicit lyrics, pop music with inappropriate references to things like drugs and suicide. At 13, listening to this music in secret made me feel like I finally had a choice. 

I found a community of fellow alternative teenagers on the social media blogging platform ‘Tumblr’. The site was formed around blogging and reblogging content about one's favourite fandoms. Music blogs were huge and entire subcultures sprouted up around cult indie artists in the early stages of their careers like Marina and the Diamonds, Lana del Rey, Azealia Banks, and Yung Lean. This underground community consisted of fellow shy teens in their bedrooms sharing leaked Soundcloud links of messily produced demos from up-and-coming indie stars. Critics and parents alike turned up their noses at these new genes coming from the digital crevices like ‘Cloud Rap’, ‘Bubblegum Bass’, and the sultry sad ballads of the early 2010s. Mimicking their distaste for the music, society also rejected the style surrounding this new generation of subculture music. This online era was defined by a heavily filtered grunge revival. Chokers, ripped jeans, Doc Martens, cigarettes, and lamenting poetry ruled the scene surrounding this music and it felt so freeing to feel understood by fellow teenagers around the world who felt the same as me and had the same taste in neo-grunge music as I did. 

This first sense of freedom over my taste in music, formed in a shadowy corner of the internet, informed my view of the world. Regardless of what was popular and what I was supposed to like or listen to, I was able to like the music that spoke to me even if others didn’t like it. This revelation began to apply itself to my life as well and I confidently stood by who I was and what I liked without bending to what was deemed normal. 

William Brooks explores the meaning of musical ‘taste’ in his work ‘On being tasteless’. Brooks observes how nearly impossible it is to be without taste, to be neutral of opinion on popular music. One of my favourite parts from the introduction to the piece explains how being tasteless is very different from and much harder than having ‘bad’ taste saying, “To have bad taste, one simply must consistently make choices which offend those with good taste - an ability which is relatively common-place. For some, bad taste seems to appear naturally, as a birthright,”. One thing remains clear, although bad and good taste are matters of opinion and being tasteless remains very hard, it's also hard to go against the grain and be yourself in a world where popular tastes exert social pressures over what is deemed acceptable music.  I felt the ramifications of this taste hierarchy as I expanded my musical identity. My parents, friends, and peers often thought the music I liked was ‘weird’ or in bad taste, but I continued to listen to what I related to and what I felt seen by. This continued disregard for the expressions of what was ‘good’ or ‘bad’ music led me to make music I felt connected me personally with my friends and the underground electronic music scene years later. 

New Locations, New Inspirations 

When I moved to London in 2019, I saw a huge shift in my musical tastes. This shift was the spark that led me to the rewarding musical experience that I am analysing, making my own music. As I became entrenched in the underground rave scene of the city I began listening exclusively to experimental electronic pop music. This was a far reach from my previous tastes but I felt as I adapted to my new surroundings that this new scene encapsulated who I was now. The tunes of my daily life became upbeat but harsh saccharine pop music that seemed almost a parody. Pushing pop music to its limits. At the time, I was stuck inside for months on end due to pandemic lockdowns and I think the overly sweet, loud, and danceable sounds were exactly what I needed to boost my mood.

Although I got weird looks when playing my new favourite songs in front of friends and family from home, I knew what I was listening to was on the brink of true musical exploration. Around this time I began feeling inspired to write my own songs, never intending for them to actually become anything. The scene around me consisted of people who would not be considered musicians in any sense of the word expressing themselves in their own way through music and this is what attracted me and made me feel I had a place. 

I found myself enthralled by the ‘PC Music’ scene during this time and their artists greatly inspired my lyricism and production. To sum up label PC Music’s influence and impact on electronic music would be impossible, but in his article ‘Label to Genre’ Eric Shorey sums up their impact well stating, “PC Music is a UK-based music label and artistic collective founded by electronic music producer A. G. Cook. The group’s first releases went live on Soundcloud in 2013. They garnered histrionic, reactionary, and widespread coverage in the ensuing years. Subsequently, the sound influenced mainstream creators, underground artists, and bedroom producers,”. The label's experimental approach bordered on a joke and yet displayed some of the most intricate production ever seen, eventually creating its own cutting-edge genre. PC Music has had an extremely prolific impact on the rising pop stars of today (Bulut, 2023). One artist from PC Music caught my eye in particular, the late visionary SOPHIE. The transgender pop star and electronic music pioneer SOPHIE’s passing in 2021 left the global queer community mourning a huge loss to the world of music.

From her work, I learned how sound can be used as a tool for unification and celebration of often isolated and seldom championed marginalised groups of identities. She used her work to champion the ideas of acceptance, queer joy, and self-determination for all. Hundreds of thousands of concert goers danced and elated in this form of otherness in her music in what became her own unique take on what protest music could be. Her productions vocally and sonically celebrated that all too relatable feeling of otherness many LGBT+ people feel

 I spent my days and nights listening to her anthems of the nightlife scene such as chart topper ‘IMMATERIAL’ and the leaked demo ‘B Who I Want 2 B’. These tracks proclaimed lyrics such as “I could be anything I want,”, “I don’t need anyone to be who I want to be…I don't need anyone to do what I want to do..You couldn’t give me that'', it was impossible not to dance while listening. SOPHIE’s music served as a love letter unifying those in the margins.

PC Music’s goal was to push the idea of pop music’s boundaries to their furthest extreme. They often inserted cultural commentary into these sweet bass beats, hiding critiques of modes of mass consumption and commercialisation through subversive capitalist social and sonic commentary. 

Most notably using glitzy bubblegum pop music, like project ‘QT’ a shiny fictional persona of a popstar, to market an imaginary energy beverage. With Production from Goldsmiths alumni and label owner A.G. Cook the track went viral as critics scrambled to decide if it was vapid party music or something far deeper. In their social critique, “PC Music utilises the banality and omniscience of branding as an aesthetic tool…their critique of late capitalism is more a respite from its aggression,” (Geffen, 2015).  It was impossible to separate SOPHIE’s work from politics as being politically laden was in its very nature. 

The interweaving of consumerist commentary and pop music drew me in as I was studying sociology at the time and found the use of the subversive nature of critiquing ‘popular music’ by creating a warped extreme version of itself to be fascinating. I began finding friends of mine with similar interests in this musical world. 

Musical Connections

Throughout our human history, music has united us. Humans propensity to create music through singing and playing instruments is evident in every era and culture across the globe. Humans are fundamentally and emotionally musical it seems. For years anthropologists and psychologists alike have pondered the reason for this connection. Archeologist Steven Mithen put forth the idea that our early ancestor’s use of voice as they evolved led to the creation of the human language and in turn music (Mithen, 2005). In his book on the subject, ‘The Singing Neanderthals: The Origins of Music, Language, Mind, and Body’, Mithen begins with a seemingly simple question: why are humans musical? Mithen observes human’s unique neurological apparatus for processing music in his research. In this heralded theory he draws the connection between our musicality and the evolution of our language that sets us apart from other species. He argues that music is crucial to our social lives and negates the idea that music is simply a ‘leisure activity’ for humans rather than a complexity like art and language. Mithen’s key hypothesis is, “That a holistic protolanguage of musical emotive expression predates language and was an essential precursor to it,” (Mithen, 2005). This lens that music is a key part of our inwoven social lives is one I have taken with me through the years. This social connection to music is how I ended up befriending Carson, who pushed me to create music and eventually perform it live with him in concert. 

In my first years of University I had met Carson in passing, but it wasn’t till we were both heavily intoxicated at a pre-party that we had a chance to truly connect. We talked about our shared love for the same musical artists for hours. Carson, an innately talented music producer prodded until I showed him a poem I had written about a recent failed relationship. He loved the inherent lyricism in the poem, and insisted we make a song together. I agreed, but thought nothing of it as I was far too insecure and unsure of my abilities to ever dream of attempting to put myself and my art out there in any way. That fateful pre-party at my flat in South East London began my first step in truly taking part in the act of Musicking. Musicking, as laid out by Christopher Small in his work ‘Musicking - the meanings of performing and listening’, entails taking part in the relationships of performance and music making (Small, 2006). Music’s true essence does not lie in an actual work of music, but instead the social action of performing music (Small, 2006). This ritual of connection through music led me to Carson’s tiny bedroom on Deptford High Street. In his rented room with pink striped wallpaper and half scratched off butterfly sticker adorned windows from the previous tenant our song came together. I was nervous. I had never wanted to sing or put my words into music to be shared and consumed by others. But Carson’s talents for producing and impeccable ear for sounds made the experience easier. I sang about unrequited love into the £10 mic we had purchased on the high street the day before and he worked magic producing a beat that made me want to dance. 

In the following months we tuned and tweaked as we listened to our song over and over together and apart. Over these months we became incredibly close friends and I no longer felt the hesitation I had felt before. Seeing how making music together had bonded us was fulfilling and a lot of fun. It further ingrained in me how tied music and our society is. Eventually the song was ready and we released it. I was nauseous the day it came out. I had loved listening to music every day of my life but I had never imagined I could make my own. Our friends told us how much they loved the song and I was quickly calmed. I had friends and family who had no idea I was even vaguely interested in anything musical telling me how surprised they were by how much they loved it. People I didn't even know told me they related heavily to my lyrics of heartbreak and I felt such a strong connection. 

Music connects us. The lyrics I wrote in secret in my Notes App about a personal struggle had shared meaning with many people I knew and some I didn’t. There was a feeling of personal connection and the next week at a party I was hosting someone played our song and to my surprise all 50 of my friends in attendance danced and sang every word together. It was a very validating musical experience for me and had a big impact on how I viewed music both as an art form and form of connection. 

Carson and I went on to write a few more songs. Eventually we were approached by a mutual friend who was touring with her band and were asked to perform live at a concert in East London. I was nervous but had a great time because I was surrounded by friends. We played at The George Tavern which was famously the site of many UK musical legend’s first shows, such as Amy Winehouse. Once again our friendship felt further solidified and the impact of this musical experience changed my life. It made me more confident in myself and the art I created. I grew closer to my friends. I got an outlet to express myself with, while also working together with them. 

Conclusion

London is a very international city and most of my friends are scattered across the globe. At times Carson and I are thousands and thousands of miles apart. But our shared love for music still serves as a connection as we send song recommendations we think the other would like, pages of lyric ideas, and bedroom-pop instrumentals daily. Facetime just to catch up and talk about what music we were listening to. The act of Musicking together, a first for me, resulted in such a valuable and rewarding musical experience that continues enriching my life to this day as I now write music with my little sister and continue finding connection through dancing to my favourite songs with friends old and new. This shared aspect of music is what made making my own so enriching. The act of Musicking and bringing people together in the process. 

Shared music has been proven to help people build connection and confidence (Barrette, 2014). It has been proven to be a useful tool for those with cognitive losses on journeys of improvement (Rio, 2009). It has been shown to increase quality of life and self-identity (Hays & Minichiello, 2005). Music is crucial to our social fabric as humans. 

I would go as far as to say almost everyone on earth has had an experience with music that they value because music has a way of expressing things we are sometimes unable to capture in our limited verbal abilities. In their journal, ‘Strong experiences with music; music is much more than just music’, Gabrielsson and Bradbury speak with respondents about how music affects their emotions. One says, “Music has the ability to go beyond my intellect and verbal ability, it is about something completely different…It includes things verbally I can but touch upon,” (Gabrielsson & Bradbury, 2011). This shared feeling and understanding that music is able to convey and touch something within us that we can’t access without it is crucial to how I view my experiences with music. 

Social theories surrounding music understand that music is so much more than just sounds or the consumerist idea of popular music. It is a thread that connects our cultures, our emotions, and us. The unifying experiences of making, listening to, dancing to music together are observed in every corner of the globe. In movies music tells a story, in advertisements it sells us on an idea, in public it sets the tone, in concert it moves us together. It wasn’t till I finally understood I was Musicking for myself that I realised how influential our connection to music is. 

References:

Alf Gabrielsson and Bradbury, R. (2011) Strong experiences with music : music is much more than just music. Oxford ; New York: Oxford University Press.

Barrett, M.S. and Bond, N. (2014). Connecting through music: The contribution of a music program to fostering positive youth development. Research Studies in Music Education, 37(1), pp. 37–54. doi: https://doi.org/10.1177/1321103x14560320.

Brooks, W. (1982). ‘On being tasteless’, Popular Music, 2, pp. 9–18. doi: 10.1017/s0261143000001203.

Bulut, S. (2023) PC music can retire now because its influence is everywhere, iD. Available at: https://i-d.vice.com/en/article/pka3ak/pc-music-record-label-shutting-down-legacy (Accessed: 12 December 2023).

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[trackedbymaximus]

The Faint Scent || Self

Summary: Maximus is finally able to follow a lead in the case for Shang's father. What he discovers is disappointing but not surprising.

Date: March 3, 2024

TW: Death Mention

The discovery of the house had been a significant leap forward into Mr. Li's disappearance. While he hadn't allowed Shang back intothe house after that first visit, Maximus had continued to work clsoely with him as they went over the house again and again for any new scrap of information.

What Maximus discovered was...discouraging. The only thing that seemed to be missing from the house was anything used for identification - passport, ID, phone, laptop. All of the clothes were still there and any other personal belongings were still there. Including a few items that Shang insisted his father never traveled without.

It all pointed to someone who had not intended to disappear. More likely someone else had been involved.

Maximus tried all of the fully legal avenues first. They collected and cataloged all the forensic evidence. He cross checked every possible traffic camera, any phone use, any credit card under even a variant o his name that had been used, any potential bank withdrawals. He reached out to neighbors. He scoured every document Shang provided about potential business contacts or business connections.

Over and over again he hit a wall. He started at the beginning and tried a different angle until he hit another wall, and then he started the process over again.

Much of police work was methodical, boring, and repetitive.

He started again.

Finally, he'd hit a point where there were no new avenues that he could see, no new facts that had been illuminated. Nothing. It was like he had disappeared entirely from the face of the earth.

That gave him one route left to try.

Heading back to the house, he went up to where the clothes were. Any sense of Li Yuming was faint at best after all this time, but that was enough. Clutching the shirt, he took in a deep sniff and fixed the scent in his mind.

He'd once tried to explain how his magic worked to Camilla. It was based in what was real and tangible - a smell, a footprint, a tire track, the smeared oil from someone's finger. The traces people left behind. But for him, those traces took on a different shade and he could follow those even months after they had faded to human or dog senses. Rain didn't wash it away, cleaning products could only dim it, he could still find it. It took considerable magic to hide from him.

For people he knew well enough, he didn't even need those traces. All he had to do was think of them and he could find that string that tied them to each other so he always knew where they were. The list that applied to was very small.

For now, he had Li's trace, and he let his senses fully unfurl. He had promised Shang he would find his father, and damn if he would break that promise.

Walking out of the house, he could see the point where the strongest 'scent' seemed to stop. Car most likely.

As he crouched, he brushed his fingers against the ground and picked up the memory of tire tracks in that space. His eyes stayed glued to the ground as he walked to the end of the driveway, picking up the memory of what had passed by.

The car - van really - had turned left. He would turn left.

For the next several hours, he followed the trail. He would drive for a little bit, then stop to check if he still got that faint sense of the van before driving onward. Both scents were kept in his mind - Li's and the van's - and for most of that time, the senses worked together.

It was on one of his later stops that something was off. The van continued one direction, but Li's scent diverged. To his right. Into a field that was crossed with drainage ditches.

He had a feeling he knew what he would find.

It took him anther half hour of careful hiking before the magical scent was taken over by a real one. A scent that he was far too familiar with, and every time he hoped it would be the last time he smelled it. Knowing that it wouldn't be.

It was deep in the field, shoved inside and covered so it was almost impossible to tell that anything was in it. The smell was the only thing to give it away - and who would come this close besides the animals?

For a minute, Maximus stood there and wrapped his hand around the medallion he always wore.

I am sorry. May you find peace.

Pulling out his phone he punched in the number for Shera at the office. "I need a forensics team for an unidentified boy, suspected to be that of Li Yuming."

Quickly, he outlined his location and what the them would need to be aware of when they arrived. It would likely take them awhile to get out there, and he settled into the comfortable parade rest that he could stand in for as long as he needed to.

He might not be able to do anything for the man now. But he would watch over him. He wouldn't be alone.

#self #tw death

[throughtrialbyfire]

What's your favorite scent?

hey anon!! thank you for the ask!! <33

smell is one of the strongest human senses, and iirc the most tied to memory compared to any other scent, so i have .... a lot of favs tbh. rosemary, old books, frankincense, sandalwood, myrrh, roses, cherries, sawdust, gasoline, coffee, coconut incense, warm vanilla, sage, cherry pipe tobacco, butterscotch alcohol, mens cologne, cinnamon, ginger...

i could legitimately go on forever AUGH, not even getting into all the little intricacies and the abstract smells. unfortunately i've got horrible allergies AND am a habitual scented candle sniffer. we are living out here ✌

thank you so much again, i hope you enjoyed my little ramble!! 💞

✨anonymous asks about anything✨

#bishop.txt #asks #ask games #i love sniffing wax melts and scented candles even if it gives me headaches AHAH