#this came to me in german actually. so whoever is able to please read it as ''ich hab da so'n paar schrauben locker :D'' ''merk ich.'' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

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Christmas Figurines and Mistletoe | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.4k

✦ request — Could you write something about being caught under the mistletoe with Damian Wayne? Fluffy and really mutty.

✦ warnings — nsfw, reader has a vagina, making out, vaginal sex, pouty Damian, jealousy if you squint, fluff.

✦ author’s note — I assumed anon meant smutty instead of mutty.

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Damian was driving you crazy. And not the good kind of crazy. You were regretting staying at Titan Tower instead of going Christmas shopping with your friends.

You had assumed they would need the bonding moment on their own. They would spend Christmas at the tower while you would do so at home, it was only fair.

The problem was that you didn’t think Damian would come to the tower so early. He had said he’d come by that evening to make sure everything was perfect for the Christmas party you all convinced him to throw.

He hated almost everything. And you were terrified of showing him the Christmas tree because it was... a lot.

Explaining to him that Christmas was supposed to be colorful and that meant things looking tacky here and there would be pointless. He had been clear on what he didn’t want to see.

Damian clenched his jaw as he stood in front of the tree. “Why are the lights off?”

“The Tower’s empty.”

“You are here,” he said drily. “What did you do?”

You immediately defended yourself, “I didn’t do anything! I wasn’t here when the tree was decorated. You sent Jon and me on that quick mission, remember?”

Damian grunted, nodding. To your horror, he lit the tree up himself. A strange sound spluttered from his throat, and he turned to look at you with narrowed eyes.

“Damian, come on! It’s cheerful.”

“Who was the genius who decided that colorful lights and colorful ornaments were a good look?”

“I don’t know... Christmas trees come from a German tradition, and—“

He interrupted you, exasperated, “This specific tree!”

You shrugged. The tree had already been decorated when you came back, just like the kitchen.

Oh, the kitchen. Damian hated it, it looked cluttered according to him.

He picked a ceramic figurine and examined it. “This is the sloppiest paint job I’ve ever seen.”

“Most figurines come like that. Or with deformed faces.”

He placed it back in its place, turning around to examine you. “I find it interesting,” he mused, dragging his eyes to the microwave which was decorated by a Christmas themed microwave cover, “that you seem to know a lot about figurines and their flaws.”

“I didn’t buy them if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You bought Christmas mugs for everybody.”

“Yes, but I didn’t buy those!” Seeing him incredulously lift his eyebrows, you groaned. “Look, those figurines are common in most households. My mom loves them. That’s it, that’s how I know how flawed the come.”

“What will you do if I inspect your bedroom and more of those ugly things are there?”

You slanted your head, making a motion for him to exit the kitchen with you. “Come. Inspect it.”

You lead the way, more relieved than exasperated. He would drop it once he realized you didn’t have anything to do with it, he always did.

Before he could cross the kitchen’s doorway, Damian halted his steps behind you, grasping your hips and pulling you closer to him. You turned around, now confused.

He looked up to the top of the doorframe. His eyes stayed there and he remained silent which prompted you to look up too.

You shifted as mistletoe came to view. “I— I didn’t put that there... I didn’t even know somebody had bought it!” You attempted to move, hoping he would drop his hands. When he didn’t, you said, “I’ll get it off.”

Damian’s grip on your hips tightened. “Not following the tradition would bring us bad luck,” he explained with ease.

Your stomach flipped. Damian wasn’t superstitious.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “you’re right.”

You half-expected a comment along the lines of ‘I’m always right,’ but instead, he slowly leaned in. You did the same, meeting him in the middle. His lashes brushed your skin when his eyes lidded closed, prompting yours to flutter.

He kissed you softly, taking his time to map your lips with his own, somewhat afraid of kissing you wrong. You tentatively placed your hands on his arms, ever so slightly tilting your head.

Pulling away, you nervously watched him. Damian slowly opened his eyes, not helping your case and making you feel giddy as he gazed at you.

He brought you in for another kiss, resting his lower back against the counter. Damian swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, and you eagerly opened your mouth for him.

His pleased hum sent shivers down your spine. As if it wasn’t enough to have you breathless, his hands lightly wandered to your back. His touch and kiss didn’t match in rhythm, and it only drove you crazier.

One of his hands fell onto your ass, then the other. You instinctively pushed your hips forward, hands flying to his shoulders. He grasped your asscheeks in both hands and pulled your hips flush against his.

A low whimper left your mouth, going directly down his throat as he swallowed it by kissing you harder.

He pushed you back. Assuming he needed space, you withdrew your hands from his shoulders. Damian briefly frowned, yet his grip tightened on you as he tried a different approach by walking you backward instead of pushing you.

“I still need to inspect your room,” he said, voice low as he analyzed your reaction.

You didn’t trust your voice so you merely nodded. It would have been easier to walk to your room by yourself, or with his hands still on you but actually looking where you were stepping.

The thought of walking slowly so you could savor the weight of his hands on your body was tempting. But Damian hated wasting time. And slow walkers.

Your room was underwhelming in comparison to your teammates’, in part because you didn’t have time to decorate and in part because you didn’t know what to do with the empty wall near the window therefore you couldn’t make up your mind about anything else.

“You can open any drawer you want,” you told him, ready to put the moment you had just shared to the side.

Damian gave you an incredulous look upon realizing you were being serious.

His eyes were as green as ever, watching you carefully as though he expected you to read his mind. Not for the first time, you wished you could.

His hands twitched on your ass. One of them softly caressed the area, drawing random patterns on your clothed asscheek.

“You can’t possibly think I brought you here to look for a stupid Christmas ornament.”

“So you brought me to my bedroom just to make out?”

”Let’s go with that,” he conceded. “I didn’t want us to be interrupted.”

“Can’t let the team know about your crush on me?” you teased him before you could fully realize what you were saying. It was fun banter, meaningless.

Damian turned serious. “I’m certain they know by now, but I would rather not get caught groping your ass in the middle of the kitchen.”

“Wait... so you hung the mistletoe?”

“No. But I’m not above admitting I should thank whoever did it.” He firmly rested his hands on your ass, pushing his hips against yours. “Now, can we stop talking?”

“Sure.” You kissed him this time, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Soon, he had you on his lap as he sat on your bed, humping him while he kissed your neck. He inched your sweater up, brushing your belly with his fingertips.

“I want you,” you whined, aware that he would leave marks on your neck.

“I’m here,” he deadpanned, nipping at your throat as he continued lifting your sweater.

You stopped moving your hips, lightly shifting on his lap in order for your hands to reach his belt. He didn’t stop you, so you went on and unbuckled his belt before undoing his pants.

Damian made you stand up, not for a moment taking his hands off you. In contrast, your neck already missed his plump lips.

He undid your jeans in a hurry, lowering them down your knees along with your panties.

Bluntly, he asked, “You need me to finger you first?”

Feeling your face heat up as he intensely gazed at you in expectancy of an answer, you pulled one of your hands off his body and parted your folds.

You found embarrassing how wet he made you. Only able to shake your head, you avoided looking at him directly.

“Use your words,” he commanded softly.

“No,” you whispered. He shuffled, lifting his hips to get rid of his pants and boxers. The gesture made your skin tingle, and as you kicked your shoes and jeans off, you added, “I don’t need you to finger me.”

Hissing, Damian held his cock for you, looking down as you placed your palm on top of the back of his hand. Your hand replaced his, and you softly caressed his cock.

“Condom?”

He stretched his arm, slanting his body to the side as he reached for his wallet. He handed the condom to you without a word, throwing his wallet onto the floor.

Once you had rolled the condom down his cock, his gaze lifted. You straddled him again, slowly gliding down. A groan spurted from within him as you took your time to push inch after inch of his cock inside you.

Damian’s eyes were on your face, refusing to lose any detail of your reaction as he entered you for the first time.

You moaned, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. He held you by the waist, holding his breath as you ever so slightly drove your hips forward.

The more you moved, the less he cared about whether he was loud or not. There hadn’t been signs of the team coming back, but you were certain Damian wouldn’t have cared either way.

He began moving his hips at your rhythm, only prompting you to roll your hips more enthusiastically as you sucked on his neck.

You tried to push him to lay down on the bed, but he stopped you, speaking softly. “Wait. It’s hot in here.”

Feeling empty as you moved away from his lap in order to get rid of your remaining clothes, you entertained yourself by admiring his body as he did the same.

Damian grabbed your hand, bringing you on top of him as he laid on his back. He kissed you, holding the back of your head with a hand as the other rested on your lower back.

Such placement made it extremely easy for him to roll you over so he could be on top, and the distraction his lips bestowed upon you a calculated move.

“Meanie,” you lightheartedly panted on his mouth.

He huffed a laugh, giving you a short kiss. “You seem to like it.” Damian dragged the tip of his cock along your folds, briefly teasing you before shoving it inside you.

He caressed your thighs as he started to thrust in slow strokes, teasing you some more as he controlled his breath.

Bottoming out, Damian tightened his grip on your thighs. He rolled his hips, and by your request started going faster.

You dropped your head onto the pillow, whimpering freely. This time you were the one who didn’t care if the tower was still empty.

His mouth hovered over yours. You were struggling to keep your eyes open, and by the way he was smiling at you, he surely knew.

“You look so beautiful right now,” he told you, lips brushing against yours. “Even more beautiful than in my imagination.”

You canted your hips up, desperate for more. More of him, of his voice, of everything he was willing to give.

And he granted you such wishes, picking up his pace, kissing you, gripping your thighs just the way you liked it even though he had no way to know.

Your nails dug into his back as you attempted to have him closer. It was impossible to do so, yet you had to give it a try.

“You’re gonna make me come,” you announced.

As though your words had been a demand for him to make you come already, he pressed his fingers on your clit and started rubbing as he thrust inside you.

Tired and spent, you felt his weight fall on top of your front. Damian kissed the side of your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily.

Eventually, you softly pushed him off you and begrudgingly left the bed in direction to the bathroom.

You were washing your legs with the showerhead when Damian entered the bathroom. “There are clean towels in the second drawer if you also want to wash yourself,” you informed him.

He opened said drawer as you shut the water. He didn’t make any move for a moment, but he took a clean towel nonetheless.

You patted your skin dry, moving out of his way so he could use the shower.

“You had condoms here,” he observed.

“Well, I didn’t know which type of condom you preferred...”

“Oh, are those somebody else’s preferred ones?”

You slipped a clean pair of panties on. He watched you. “Please tell me you’re not actually angry because of this.”

“Your shower gel smells nice,” he opted for saying.

You hummed. “It’s new. I got tired of the blue one.”

Giving him privacy, you exited the bathroom and decided to check the mattress in case you needed to change the bedding.

Back in your bedroom, Damian silently put his boxers back on. He didn’t bother with his pants nor his shirt.

“I’m not angry,” he finally stopped avoiding the subject.

You tried not to frown. “You’re pouting.”

His expression turned blank. “I don’t pout.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Come to the Christmas party with me.”

“I’ll be at the party either way.”

“Yes,” he gritted before inhaling deeply. “But I want you to be with me. As my date.”

“What would the difference be?” You didn’t understand why it was such a big deal. “We know everybody already.”

“For one, it would help me sleep at night.” He took you by the face with one hand, looking straight into your eyes. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Your voice sounded weird due to the pressure of his fingers on your cheeks

Damian gave you a sweet kiss, loosening his grip on your face to cup your cheek. You softly placed your hand on the back of his head, giving him another kiss. And another, and another, until you lost count.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #damian wayne smut #damian wayne

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krreader · 4 years

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seven sins | chapter one.

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts warnings: non idol!au ; historical!au ; princes!bts ; concubine!reader ; mentions of death ; mentions of suicide genre: smut ; angst word count: 2.9k+

summary: even in times such as yours, you still led a privileged life with nothing to ask for. that is until first your father, then your mother passed away and you were left to care for your two younger sisters. the position for royal physician seemed to be open and with your father having been a respected general, you thought you might be able to get it and provide coin and respect for your family. little did you know that your visit to the palace would put a completely different offer on the table.

a/n: remember that ultra hardcore smut story I talked about yesterday? WEL LTHIS IS IT BITCHES. yes, you read it right, it is bts (meaning all seven) x reader iN A SEXUAL WAY. so this is mainly inspired by the 2018 mma performance because the beginning part always gets me and I finally got punched in the face by this idea, so yeah, hope you like it lol (just a little heads up, korean royal history is really fucking hard for me to understand, I tried my best to research everything and even asked jiho for help, but apparently koreans know as much about their history as I know about german history, so you know, awesome. anyways, info for this chapter: korean princes or kings had various concubines and they had ranks for their concubines. if you’re a royal noble consort, you are pretty much one of the highest concubines at court, you are treated with a lot more respect, despite actually only being a prostitute. the only women higher than royal noble consorts were princesses and queens, obviously. so just thought I might say that and please don’t kill me if I ever make a mistake, I really try my best to make this as accurate as possible lol)

Your life used to be perfect.

Other girls who had been in a position such as yours might have wanted to climb the latter even farther up, but you had been content with were you had been.

You had been very privileged at some point, daughter of a kind mother and a father as the general of the king's army. You never had to go to bed hungry, nor cold. You always knew that the table would be filled with delicious food and that you'd always have a warm bed to return to.. and in times such as yours, that is more than most could unfortunately say.

You were loved by friends and family, were respected and looked up to from those who were 'beneath' you and were striving for becoming a physician like your grandmother had been when she was still alive.

Your mother often said that maybe you should start working in the palace, that with your father being a general there, he would surely be able to convince the king of your talents, despite you being a woman. But back then, you have had no desire to serve the royal family, despite the honor it would bring you. With your father’s position, your family was already respected enough and you’d rather care for the people who truly needed it, the people in your village that couldn’t afford a doctor when they really needed one, rather than the royals who called for a physician when they had a slight tummy ache.

You grew up with the stories of the royal family, the seven princes, the rascals that they were.. no, back then, you had always declined.

On the side, you trained with your father, something that not many men did with their daughters. But that's all your father had been blessed with, three daughters, two of them much younger than you.

Your father didn’t get to spend as much time with his family as he would have liked to due to his position and your mother was always out in the village helping those that didn’t have as good as a life as you did, so ever since your sisters were born, you were as much a guardian for them as your parents were.

All in all, you could say that you used to live your life to the fullest, had a bright future ahead of you and that you were looking forward to it every single day.

But you had been naive enough to believe that it would be like this forever.

Because nothing lasts forever.

Your father had died first, in a fight that had never been his in the first place.

Two kingdoms had started a war with each other that was making it problematic for food and weapons to come in. Trade routes were blocked, nobody was brave enough to go out there with soldiers lurking everywhere, ready to attack whoever entered “their” territory.

So the king had sent his best, your father, to settle this brawl.

But neither side had wanted to back down, neither side thought the other one was right, they both wanted what wasn't theirs.

Your father didn't die in battle like the hero that he was, he died by the hand of an assassin. Like the cowards that these bastards were. He got stabbed in the back and they left his corpse out in the fields to rot.

It took days for the body to finally come back home, for you and your family to finally have confirmation and say your final goodbye.

The king mourned the loss of his general, not just that, but friend, too. He offered your family a large sum of coin, but as much as you had appreciated it, that wouldn't bring your father back either. No coin in the world would.

That day, when you finally laid him to rest, everything went downhill.

People were suddenly trying to use you, knowing that there was no one left to protect you. They knew the kind heart that your mother had and while they were too afraid to before, too afraid that your father would find out about it, they now used her kindness to get whatever they could from her.

One day it even went as far as somebody breaking into your house and just taking whatever they wanted and when your mother had asked why, they simply said: ‘Because we need it more than you do.’

You thought people would help, would stand by your side, but nobody lifted a finger.

That was the first time that you realized that people only pretended to be your friend when they got something out of it. You didn’t trust anyone anymore, told your mother to lay back for a while and stay at home with your sisters, to protect them in case somebody like that came back.

Despite all this, you tried your hardest to continue pursuing your path as a physician, especially now that your father wasn’t with you anymore. Yes, you did have enough coin for now, but it wouldn’t always be like this. You wanted to provide for your family.. but you couldn’t do it for long.

The one who suffered most under it all was your mother, having just lost the love of her life, she became the saddest you had ever seen her.

The once so kind woman who always had a smile for everyone started crying each night. The once so beautiful woman, radiating with happiness became a dull shell of a person.

One night, she smiled at the three of you sadly and had said: “I love you all so much.. and you make me so proud. Never forget that,” you had hoped that this might be a good sign. That maybe she would start fighting again. Fighting for her children. Fighting to be happy again.

But a day later she was dead.

The official statement was that she had died of a broken heart, but you knew she had killed herself. Her last words to you were her way of saying goodbye, not her way of giving you hope for a better future.

You were angry. Angry, because your beautiful sisters had just lost their father and now their mother too. So while they could, you didn't have time to grieve.

Now with both of your parents gone, you knew that you had to be the one to bring in coin, otherwise your sisters would end up on the street one day. Again, you weren’t suddenly poor, but you wanted your sisters to lead the same life as you. You wanted them to never fear hunger or cold, you never wanted them to feel like the world was against them.

Your father had been a respected man, only then did people leave you alone and only then did you have nothing to fear, so you knew respect was ultimately what you needed.

You knew you had to come up with a plan.

You had successfully finished your physician training a few days before your mother’s death and what was the one position that you actually never wanted but that you knew would get you the coin and the respect you needed? The one as royal physician.

Your mother had always said it would be easy for you to get it because of your father, but you forgot the most important thing.

Your father wasn’t here anymore. He didn’t hold any position anymore.

And you haven’t been to court since you were a little girl. Nobody knew you. Nobody respected you.

“Why are you doing this?” you let out a breath, “You know me.. you knew my father, you served under him!”

“(Y/N), I'm sorry,” the guard at the doors looked at you apologetically, “I can't let you in.. only a selected few are allowed inside. And I only know you because you and I used to be neighbors, nobody else around here knows you anymore. And your father.. he’s not general anymore.. as much as that hurts to say.”

“But the position as physician is open, I know that! I want to at least try to get it!”

“You and I both know they won't take a woman as a physician. Your grandmother struggled for years until she had a good reputation and you just finished your training. You can't seriously expect to get that good of a position right away.”

See and that was it. You grew up with that mindset of a naive, young girl that your parents planted into your head, that you could get anything and everything you wanted and only now that both of your parents were dead, did you slowly see the reality of life.

Life wasn't as easy as you always thought it was. Your parents just made it easy for you.

But now that you were on your own, trying to protect your family and sisters.. you were confronted with the harshness of life.

You had walked back home that day in defeat, deep in thought about what else you could try. There had to be a way to get that position. You knew that all of your worries would disappear if you got it. You'd get enough coin and you'd definitely get back the respect.

On your way, you passed several children sitting at the side of the road, covered in dirt, some even a bit of blood, all looking at you with desperation in their eyes.

These were the people that needed your help, the people that you had always wanted to help. But with each passing child, you saw your sisters sitting there one day.. and you just couldn’t let that happen. They’ve been through too much.. it was enough.

You had to come up with something..

..and you did.

six hours later

You had waited until the moon and the stars were most clear and until all that could be heard outside were the drunks that were either slowly coming home, or still enjoying their night to the fullest.

You quickly peaked into the room of your sisters, then gently pulled the blankets higher up to their chins and kissed both of their heads with a small smile, “I'll be back soon.”

It was a stupid plan, but it was the only plan you got.

You knew that you wouldn’t get into the palace the conventional way, so you had to be creative.

When you were a little girl, there was a time when your father wasn't able to come home for a long period of time due to preparing new recruits for a possible war - that had never happened in the end. You had missed him a great deal and were stubborn enough to ignore your mother telling you that there was no way for you to see him.

You had been to the palace a couple of times with your parents, had even played with the princes a few times – until their mother scolded them for playing with someone 'lesser' than them. And through that, they - not knowing the consequences of telling someone a secret like that - had shown you the 'secret passages' leading in and out of the castle. These passages weren't guarded, because they weren't actually passages. They were weaknesses in the palaces' structure that you could use to get in and out if you knew how.

So imagine your father's face when you suddenly stood in front of him in the middle of the night with a toothless grin, because little you had just lost hers and wanted to show her father.

The thought of that moment made you smile, standing in front of the palace.. or rather.. the side of it.

“I really hope this still works.”

You had thought climbing this wall as a kid would be harder than climbing it as an adult? Wrong. You were panting heavily, nearly falling once, twice, but then you finally made it across and dropped yourself into the wagon of hay like you had when you were a little girl. Wasn’t exactly pleasant, but you didn’t break your back, so there’s that.

Still got it, you thought to yourself.

But this wasn't the hardest part. The hard part would be finding and talking the king without getting noticed and.. well, killed.

The king used to smile at you when you were a little girl, even joked every now and then that you were so pretty that you might even end up with one of his sons. Your father was his friend.. if anyone could get you this position and had pity on you and your family, it surely was him.

But how would you reach him? He was probably guarded by hundreds of men..

..well, you had a plan for that too.

You dropped down close to the changing quarters for the women. You knew that stealing was wrong, but you told yourself you were only 'borrowing' the Hanbok that the maids wore. You'd give it back once you were done with your 'mission' like it was never even gone in the first place.

You quickly put your hair up in a bun like your mother had once taught you and then went on out like you belonged here.

And nobody noticed.

Because see, if there is one thing that men can do perfectly, it's completely disregard a woman's presence.

Normally, that wasn't something that you appreciated, but under these circumstances, you were quite grateful that nobody batted an eyelash at you.

You were just another maid serving the royal family.

A common nobody.

You made your way across the palace grounds, keeping your head low and not looking at anyone unless you absolutely had to.

You snuck into the kitchen to grab a bowl filled with soup and then continued on to the king's quarters. And when his guards tried to stop you, you bowed and said, “The king is hungry. He asked me to bring him this. He said that if I even spilled one drop of his soup, he'd kill me for it.”

The guards sighed, one whispered: “Why is he so angry these days?”

“I don't know. I think it's because of one of the princes,” they continued talking, but that didn't matter to you, because they actually let you through and you couldn't help but smile once the door closed behind you.

It was very late, you thought nobody but the king would be in his quarters, but then you started hearing voices.. yes.. multiple.

“This is not up for debate, Seokjin. We've talked about this numerous of times, I will not repeat myself.”

“Father is right. It has to be you,” another voice said.

You hadn't seen the princes in a while, definitely hadn’t talked to them, but you knew it was them who were talking to the king. All you knew was that they were around your age now, were all enjoying themselves with various women and that Prince Seokjin would be the heir to the crown soon.

And.. well.. that's about it.

“This is easy for you all to say. You can do whatever you want with whomever you want.”

“That is the burden of being the oldest,” another one chuckled.

You took a step back from the door and thought about your next move.

Interrupting while the king was with – apparently – all seven of his sons was not a good idea. Interrupting at all wasn't a good idea, actually. So what was the best approach here? Probably to hide and wait and then go in when there was nobody else around, right?

Yes, yes, that was for the best.

You just wanted to do that, when the door suddenly got slid open and you were face to face with one of the princes.

Your eyes were wide, shocked, while he.. licked.. his lips?

“Hello, beautiful.”

“Who is it?! Is it Hyemi?” and then there was another and, “No, I bet it's Ryuna, she's the only one up this late,” another.

And suddenly all seven were standing in front of you with curiosity in their eyes as to who visited their father so late at night.

And well.. you surprised them all, because they had - obviously - never seen you before (or at least not at this stage of your life).

“Father.. did you call someone new for us?”

“I'm not..-” you tried to correct them, tell them that you weren’t what they thought you were, but the king got up and shoved the boys aside before you could do so.

You smiled, were ready to give the speech that you had prepared, fully thinking that he'd remember you, but once again, a man let you down: “I don't remember, but.. she's pretty, isn't she?”

Well, that was not..- “You see, your majesty, I'm..-”

“Promoted, apparently,” their father grinned from ear to ear, “I haven't seen my boys this happy about a woman in a very long time. And Seokjin is still looking for a wife. I think you could give him very strong and handsome boys, right? I mean look at you. And look how caring you are, bringing an old king food, knowing that he was craving soup but not telling anyone yet? Such a wonderful, young girl. You’ll be a great mother.”

You pursued your lips, kept trying to form sentence after sentence and your eyebrows kept furrowing because you really didn't understand what he was saying, until..-

“Welcome to the Royal Noble Consorts.”

Well.. that wasn't exactly the plan.

#bts imagine #bts reactions #bts x reader #bts #bangtan #bangtan reaction #bangtan boys #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #bangtan sonyeondan #reader #bangtan x reader #bangtan boys x reader #mine

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devil-in-the-d3tails · 4 years

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It’s the End of the World as We Know It - Chapter 1

summary: During the international quarantine in your first-ever pandemic, the people around you slowly begin to disappear. As the world grows quieter and quieter, you find yourself all alone-- no power, no friends, and only one goal: to find whoever of your friends might be left and reunite with them.You're naive to think anything can be that simple. As you're faced with ever-increasing loneliness, you run into some boys who apparently went to the same high school as you. Will you join forces with them to figure out your strange circumstances together, or will you brave loneliness in a world that is slowly crumbling apart?

Link on AO3!

words: 4,452

rating: M - Mature

genre: angst/humor, romance, adventure, apocalypse AU, reader-insert

warnings: sort of depressing content, a smidge of violence, cursing

a/n: hello, hello! this is my first fic for haikyuu (originally posted on AO3), and i wanted to post it on tumblr as well just for shits n gigs. please enjoy!

- Beginning of the End -

It was a Thursday the day everyone disappeared.

The world was quiet outside, but it was loud in your phone, on account of the international quarantine. Everyone was tweeting, making dumb videos, playing video games. You would sit in your room for hours on end, scrolling through your phone as you mourned the loss of your senior year of high school. No prom, no graduation, no more arts and crafts club. It was bad enough that your closest friend group had been disbanded before your senior year even started-- it was just bad luck, but they all left to live in different states while you were left alone in suburbia.

You stayed home with your mom while your dad went to work-- he was considered an essential worker, as he worked in the grocery store. Your mom was much more active than you, constantly cleaning or cooking or going for a walk. It was admirable, but it irritated you how she would always try and get you to interact with her activities. She did it because she was probably worried about you, and she was probably lonely. You were lonely, too-- your friends lived miles away in the vast expanse of the suburbs, and your home was tucked into the fringes of soccer mom society. Your backyard was larger than most, and it was perfect for when you would host kickbacks with your friends. Recently, however, you had no reason to use the large space.

On Thursday, you decided to put down your phone for a while and play fetch with your dog. She was the biggest and fluffiest best friend you’d ever had, a german shepherd named Indie, short for Indiana, as in the archaeologist. You thought the name was fitting, because she could find almost anything with her nose-- you and your mom had trained her to do that a few summers ago.

Your mom had gone on a walk before you decided to play fetch with the dog. You had left your phone on the kitchen table. It wasn’t until the sun began to set and you felt your arm begin to ache when you noticed that she’d been gone for a while.

You gave Indie her stick, though she sniffed and whined at you stressfully. You frowned, and let her inside as you checked your phone. A few notifications from your friends’ group chat:

4:47pm

Kimi: Anybody else’s power go out?

Callie: omg i thought it was just Ohio!

Kimi: Nah, we got it in Connecticut, too.

Emily: New York, too!

They were asking if you had experienced the same thing.

6:48pm

Me: i didnt notice, i was playing with indie. wbu, sami?

Sami had moved to L.A., about two hours from your home, so you guys were able to hang out most weekends if you took the train or if she drove out to you. She didn’t even read the chat.

6:48pm

Me: bitch i know ur in quarantine smh read my message

[Kimi, Callie, and Emily liked your message!]

You dialed your mom’s number as you went to turn on the T.V., only to be met with static. You frowned, and surfed a few channels only to be met with more static before you turned it off. Her voicemail blared through your phone speakers, and that was when you started to worry.

You hung up, called your dad.

“Hey, honey!” He answered-- he must’ve been on break.

“Dad, did the power go out?”

“Yeah, for a couple minutes there. Did it happen at home, too?”

“Yeah…” You trailed off. Indie licked your hand, and whined some more. “Hey, mom’s not answering her phone and she’s been on a walk for a while. Like, three hours.”

“Huh.” Your dad let out a contemplative sigh. “Well, I’m sure she’ll be okay. Maybe she’s talking with the neighbors and her phone died.”

“Maybe.”

But maybe not. You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, and Indie could sense it as you sat on the couch. She slowly tried to inch her way into your lap, as she never really had a good idea of her own large size. You just let her and scratched her ear.

“Listen, honey, I gotta go. But we can make mac-n-cheese for dinner, how’s that sound?”

“Good, dad.” You said, biting your lip. “Okay, see you when you get home.”

Then, you hung up, and you waited for your mom.

[-]

When your dad got home, you went out to search for your mom. On your tour of the neighborhood, you came across others who had broken quarantine and were searching for their loved ones, too. Saying they went for a walk, or to the store and they didn’t come back.

Your dad remained the voice of reason, saying things like well maybe their phone died, or this is all just some big prank we’ll all laugh about later. You stayed silent.

[-]

Saturday was when your dad didn’t come home. His car was nowhere to be found, but you didn’t trust yourself to drive your mom’s car just yet. Or rather, you didn’t want to drive it because you didn’t want to be reminded that it was permanently vacant. You walked all the way to the store an hour after he was supposed to have gotten off. Manager Dan wasn’t there, either-- nobody had seen your dad at all that day; he was a no-call, no-show.

You walked all the way back home.

9:52pm

Me: my dad’s gone now too

10:05pm

Callie: fuck.

Callie: my sister…

10:06pm

Kimi: I still haven’t heard from Sami.

Emily: Yeah, me neither.

10:15pm

Me: we should check in every day with each other

[Callie and Emily liked your message!]

10:32

Me: Kimi?

[-]

It’s Thursday again.

Emily has stopped answering by now, and the frantic search parties that used to pass by your window every now and again have stopped, too. Even Twitter is quiet-- it seems with every passing day, more and more people go silent. As you lay on your bed with Indie at your feet, you keep refreshing your feed on every social media app, but nothing changes-- all of the posts are old. It feels like your world is shrinking while at the same time expanding into a terrifying void.

5:38pm

Me: callie?

Callie: im here.

You breathe a sigh of relief, which turns into a sob into your pillow.

5:39pm

Me: idk how long we’ll have wifi or even electricity.

Callie: my parents are still here. Come to ohio, seriously.

You bite your lip. You think about Sami, and how many times she pried the truth out of you when you were sad, how she was the only one who would sing with you at karaoke, how you promised to move to New York together.

5:39pm

Me: i have to find sami.

Callie: please just come here. We need to stick together.

Me: i’ll find sami and we’ll come to ohio. Then we go to NY to look for em and kimi.

5:45pm

Callie: okay. Please text.

Me: i will. I promise i’ll come to ohio.

You bite your lip, and glance at your phone’s percentage: 43%. You sigh, and put it on the charger while you go downstairs to scrounge for breakfast. You only woke up about two hours ago, though you can’t sleep much, anyways. You think to yourself how your mom would be scolding you for waking up so late.

As you eat the last poptart, Indie lays down on your feet. You toss her a couple crumbs, she eats them gratefully. You sigh, and look at your now empty pantry-- you have to try and go to the grocery store, whether you like it or not. You only have your permit, but you know that you’re a terrible driver. Still, you get up and put on shoes and grab your jacket. You probably don’t have to worry about cops or the law anymore, anyway-- you suspect everything has disappeared.

You look at yourself in the mirror; you didn’t think your outfit for the apocalypse would be sweatpants and a hoodie. With a sigh, you change into jeans and a long sleeve, layer a flannel on top of that, and your favorite jacket on top of that. It’s cold outside-- much colder than you’re used to.

Based on the incredible silence on Facebook, you figure that most of the adults have disappeared. As you drive further and further into town, you notice some obvious signs of looting from once pristine houses: trash littering lawns, doors left wide open. You get the haunting realization that you’re perhaps the only person left in your neighborhood. It’s amazing how quickly things can turn in just a few days.

When you pull up to the grocery store, you notice there’s only one other car there-- a white van, stationed by the curb and still running. You actually pull into a parking spot like some kind of society bootlicker, and cautiously put the car in park and turn off the engine.

You watch the van for a moment, slowly becoming hyper-aware of the very real possibility that you might run into robbers. Your stomach growls, and you take a deep breath. You should’ve brought Indie.

Grocery bags in hand, you exit your soccer mom minivan and lock it. Steeling your nerves, you put one foot in front of the other. As if on cue, two figures hurry out of the store, glancing behind them before they notice you. The automatic doors have long since stopped running, so they just pause in the doorway while you freeze on the curb, the fumes from the van tickling your nose.

They’re both boys holding bags you assume to be filled with groceries: both around your age, one of them has gray and black spiked hair, and eyes as wide and aware as an owl’s. The one next to him has dark, short, almost curly hair, and his gaze is calculating and cold.

You take a small step back, unsure of what to say. They seem just as apprehensive, when the van door slides open forcefully.

“Hey, what are you doing? Get in!” Another boy, this one of a larger build than the two in front of you with jet black spiked hair, snaps angrily.

“Kuroo, we have a situation.” The curly-haired boy says evenly, though he’s tense. His knuckles are white holding his bags.

“Huh?” The one who must be Kuroo says, and cranes his neck to the side to spot you. “Oh, shit.”

“U-um…” You stutter out, and you suddenly feel extremely cornered-- it’s three against one, and what if they want to take your car? What if they have some kind of weird cult and need a girl for breeding? “I’m just gonna get some-- some poptarts and leave.”

“Holy shit!!” The gray haired one seems to have broken out of his stupor, and he rushes over to you, dropping his bags and their contents on the ground in order to grab your shoulders. “Another person! A-a girl!”

“Yes, she’s a girl…” The curly-haired one sighs, puts his bags in the van and begins to gather up the other one’s forgotten groceries.

“First one I’ve seen in a while.” Kuroo grins and hops from the car to stand beside the gray-haired one who still hasn’t let go of you. You don’t have the balls to tell him to get off-- you’re not sure how dangerous these boys are. “How long have you been hiding out?”

“Come with us! We’re at the high school.” The gray-haired one beams-- how could he possibly be smiling?

You don’t know what to say, so you look away. Your voice seems to be caught in your throat, and that’s extremely frustrating-- but you’re not about to cry in front of these guys.

“Quit it, Bokuto.” The curly-haired one is eyeing you carefully, though not as if you’re a threat. He seems to be the only one that can actually sense your discomfort. The one that’s holding you-- Bokuto-- sighs, and lets you go, instead putting his hands on his hips.

“We should at least help her.” He points out, and grins down at you. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“She’s not gonna tell you. Let’s just go home.” Kuroo shrugs, and you cross your arms.

You tell them your name, if only to spite the taller one. He turns with a grin, and it only just occurs to you that perhaps, that was reverse-psychology. You huff, and look away with a little bit of a blush.

“Like I said, I just need to get poptarts and some other things and then I’m going back home.” You mutter.

“We’re wasting gas.” The curly-haired one calls, as he has already sat in the front seat.

“Hold on, Akaashi!” Bokuto calls. “Listen, there aren’t anymore poptarts in there. None whatsoever.”

Your heart breaks a little, but you keep it together.

“There’s, like, rice and stuff, but I think that’s it.” He shrugs, and turns to get into the van. You bite your lip-- might as well ask rather than waste your time wandering around all alone.

“Is there any dog food left?”

“Huh? Dog food?” Bokuto is right back in front of you. He and Kuroo speak at the same time:

“You’re gonna eat dog food?” Bokuto says. “You have a dog?” Kuroo says, and the two boys glare at each other.

“Yeah…” You say, though you still haven’t gotten an answer to your question. “I mean, I have a dog.”

“Yeah, it’s in aisle five.” You hear the one called Akaashi tell you, without even bothering to turn to look at you.

“I know that.” You snap-- your dad used to work in this store, you know it pretty damn well. Akaashi glances back at you then, probably a little surprised by your defensive tone. You huff, annoyed at yourself for being so touchy. These were the first people you met after about three straight weeks in quarantine, and they might be the only people left for miles. You need to play nice.

“My dad works here.” You explain, looking down at your shoes. Kuroo nods, exchanges a glance with Bokuto. “Well, he used to.”

A silence falls over the group-- they know. You all know, now, what it’s like to lose a parent, or any loved one, for that matter. You blink quickly to fight back any tears that might threaten to escape.

“We’re staying at Karasuno High-- it’s the high school near Flat Top.” Kuroo says. “If you want to join us, we’re kind of setting up camp there.”

“There’s more of us!” Bokuto explains. “We’re gonna find some mattresses after this to bring ‘em back so we can all stick together.”

“Oh, cool.” You say half-heartedly, unsure of why exactly they’re inviting you over as if it’s some kind of fun sleepover. “Wait, you guys went to Karasuno?”

“Yeah! You, too?” Bokuto lights up, and you look at the three boys a little closer, though you don’t seem to recognize them.

“Yeah… but I don’t think we were in the same circles.” You finally smile a little, albeit sadly, now that you’re remembering all the things you’ll never be able to return to now that school and society are essentially gone.

“You ever go to any volleyball games?” Kuroo asks, obviously encouraged by your smile. You shake your head.

Akaashi has exited the van by now with a sigh, coming to stand beside his two friends as he takes a look around. “We need to get going. If you want to join us, you know where to find us. But it’s gonna be dark soon.”

That seems to smack some sense into the other two, and they exchange glances with one another. Kuroo nods, Bokuto sighs, and the two get back into the van. Akaashi pauses, and you accidentally lock eyes with him.

His gaze betrays nothing, and you wonder for a moment how he ever became friends with these two. He reaches into the van, and pulls out a familiar blue cardboard box, gives it to you.

You take the poptarts, and glance up at him questioningly-- he puts a finger to his lips with just the hint of a smile. You smile back.

“Listen, it’s great you have a dog-- keep him close. And get home before it gets dark. And…” He glances to the side uneasily. “Get a baseball bat or something.”

A chill goes up your spine at that last part, and you frown, but nod to the boy in front of you anyways. He returns the nod, and gets in the back of the van. You both share a glance at each other one more time, and it feels as if he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. He just slides the door closed, and Bokuto waves to you out the window.

“Byee! Hopefully we’ll see you later-- hey, where’d you get those poptarts?!” Bokuto’s voice fades away as the van drives off, and you are once again left alone.

[-]

You gather a fair amount of stuff-- rope, for some reason is included in your loot. You always saw people in the movies get rope, so you figure you’ll find some use for it.

There aren’t any baseball bats, but you do find a hammer and a paring knife. It’s small, but better than nothing. You load up on the dog food, and even manage to haul two huge bags of kibble into your car. As you load it up, you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you. Even though you look around and make certain that you’re the only person present, the feeling doesn’t go away. You sort of wish you’d gone with those boys now.

You aren’t surprised when the street lights don’t turn on, but you take that as your signal to leave. Even though you want to scrounge for more supplies, you don’t want to risk it. Akaashi’s words of warning hang over your head like a humid fog.

As you drive home, you can’t stop chewing on your lip. Even with your headlights on, it’s hard to see, but you don’t want to turn on your brights and draw more attention to yourself. Just get home, lock the doors, and check in with Callie.

You park the car in your backyard because the garage door won’t open-- the power’s finally gone out. You close the backyard gate and lock it as soon as you’re out of the car, but somehow you still feel uneasy.

As you enter your dark home, you softly call out Indie’s name, and you hear her scamper up to you.

“Good girl,” You whisper, and scratch her ear. You decide to leave the larger groceries in the car for now, as you don’t want to go back outside and keep making trips of transferring the supplies into your house. For now, you need to sleep so that you can ignore the hunger in your belly and stretch out your rations just a little further.

Indie guides you up the stairs and into your bedroom as you set your bag down heavily. You come across your phone with dismay, finding that it hasn’t charged at all since you left, and is now at 7%. You bite your lip, and open up the almost abandoned group chat.

9:57pm

Me: callie im gonna come to ohio soon. I think we are gonna lose connection tho. Idk if this will even send, but ill see u in ohio. I love you.

The message doesn’t send. You shudder out a sigh, and you’re grateful when Indie nuzzles into your side.

Your phone finally shuts off, though it’s useless now, anyway. You crawl into your bed and Indie curls up next to you, and you fall into an uneasy sleep.

[-]

“Shh!”

You jolt awake at the hissing sound that’s coming from downstairs. Indie is tense and alert, and she licks your elbow. You sit up, and vaguely note the time: 3:37am.

There’s some shuffling, and you see the beam of what you assume to be a flashlight shakily illuminate the walls downstairs. You didn’t close your bedroom door when you came in, because you assumed that you were alone.

‘Stupid…’ You think to yourself as you grip Indie’s collar. She begins to growl, but you shush her quickly, though she flattens her ears back at you. Letting out a shaky breath, you crawl off of your bed as silently as you can manage, and reach for the hammer and paring knife in your bag.

Indie follows you as you venture into the hallway, and you perch behind the bars of your stairs as the hushed conversation down below becomes clearer.

“Just find whatever food you can and let’s go.” A deep male voice cuts through the silence.

“We need to check the car! There’s nothing here.” A stranger male voice answers, and giggles. “We should find the girl instead.”

You tense, and grip the hammer a little tighter.

“I don’t care about her. I just want her stuff.” The deep voice asserts, and you wonder what you should do next. Storm downstairs and hammer them to death? You’ve never fought anybody before, let alone killed someone. Your hands are becoming clammy, and you don’t notice the pregnant pause in the conversation downstairs.

It isn’t until you see a head of brown hair come into view that you’re snapped from your thoughts. Indie can’t help herself-- she barks, and bolts down the stairs before you can stop her. The two boys yell in surprise, and you watch as she tackles the tall one with brown hair. Meanwhile, the other one comes into view-- he has large, droopy eyes with spiked red hair, and he looks excited when he catches sight of you.

“There she is!” He coos, and begins to walk upstairs. You gasp, and you know in this split second that your home is no longer yours-- you need to get away. In one fluid motion, you run into your room to grab your single bag of groceries. It’s heavy, but you don’t notice as adrenaline rushes through your veins.

When you turn to run down the stairs, the red-head catches you by both of your upper arms. He licks his chapped lips, and your knee jerks out to hit his groin. He yelps and doubles over, and you fly down the stairs.

“Indie!” You whistle, and she actually bounds from the living room over the couch, to skid by your side. You swipe the car keys off the counter, rip the sliding glass door open, and use the fob to unlock the car. You open the passenger for Indie, she leaps in as you toss the bag and your hammer and knife in behind her, you slam the door closed, and hop over the hood of the car.

As you turn to open the driver’s side door, you watch as the red-head runs in slow motion from your stairs to the exit to your backyard. You don’t breathe or shake as you turn the ignition, throw the car in reverse, then drive, and plow through your flimsy backyard gate as you push your little soccer van to its limits.

Tires skid as you swerve onto the street, and you press down so hard on the gas, that a few minutes later, you don’t register that you’re going 90 miles an hour in the suburbs. Houses pass you at incredible speed, and you ease up on the pedal when Indie licks your cheek. You stare straight ahead, and subconsciously, you drive towards your high school. Those three boys were nice to you-- they warned you, and you didn’t listen. They even tried to help you and include you, and you flat out denied them.

You slam on the brakes as you turn into Karasuno High’s parking lot. It’s only now that you realize that you didn’t fasten your seat belt, and you shut off the car with a shaky breath. The front of the school looms over you, and you wonder for a moment if they’re even here-- was it all a joke? What if they turn you away because you were such a bitch earlier? No matter how many scenarios you run through your head, you come to the same conclusion every time: you can’t go back home, and you’re already here, so you may as well investigate. You grab your hammer and get out of the car, and Indie follows behind. You close and lock the doors, pocketing the keys, and turn towards the school you’ve known for three and a half years.

The front gates are locked, of course. You wander the perimeter of the school, Indie trotting beside you the whole way. The school looks different in the dark-- it feels different, too. It’s like you’re walking in a dream, or some sort of in-between space. You shouldn’t be awake, and you definitely shouldn’t be here, but you are. It’s strange. Everything is bathed in moonlight, so it’s all a very specific shade of blue that makes you feel like you’re underwater.

You come upon the gym in the back of the school, and you’re startled to hear voices coming from inside. You tip-toe up to the doors, and Indie sniffs curiously.

“If your leg gets cut off, would it hurt?”

“Please just go to sleep.”

“Duh!” A third voice chimes in, and the second voice groans.

“How, though?” The first voice presses.

“‘Cause your leg got cut off, dumbass.” Third voice answers.

“Where’re you gonna feel the pain?”

“In your leg…” The third voice trails off.

“Exactly, man. How’re you gonna feel the pain in your leg if--”

“--if your leg is gone?!” The first and third voice finish together, and you hear the second person groan.

“I’m going outside.” He says, and as his voice gets louder, you stumble away from the door just as it opens.

You blink rapidly and your jaw drops-- Akaashi stands in front of you, brows furrowed and eyes wide. You can’t believe they’re actually here.

“Akaashi?” Someone calls from inside. Akaashi opens his mouth to respond, but glances at Indie when she sniffs his hand curiously. He pets her absent-mindedly as his gaze wanders back to yours.

Bokuto and Kuroo pop up behind him a second later, and they’re just as surprised as Akaashi. Indie sniffs them in turn, and her tail begins to wag.

You drop your hammer with a thud, and sniffle like a toddler before letting out a sob you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“C-can I stay with you?”

#haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfiction #haikyu fanfiction #akaashi x reader #kuroo x reader #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #bokuto x reader #reader insert #haikyuu x reader #slow burn

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deery-fiction · 3 years

Text

Something’s Changed (Pt. 2)

Author’s Note: Deery here, bring you lovely people chapter 2 of Something’s changed! I wasn’t sure if I should write out Henrik’s accent, or if I shouldn’t... So I settled on writing his accent when I think it would be particularly thick! Like when he’s drunk, emotional, or exhausted! hope you all enjoy this chapter of SC and Yes, I do accept constructive criticism! Also, again, I’d like to thank @7spaceace7 for being a wonderful support and helping me create this AU!

Parts: 1 , 2 (Here)

Someone is knocking on the door.

That is the first thing Jackie became aware of as he slowly, gradually drifted back to awareness from what had to have been the deepest sleep he had ever had. Despite the fact he had probably never slept more deeply in his life, the brunette struggled to even open his eyes, exhaustion still making his limbs heavy. It didn’t make sense, it was like he hadn’t slept at all. Everything felt achy on a level he had never encountered before, not only was it bone deep, it felt like his very atoms themselves were sluggish and sore. Above all though, his head felt like someone had taken an ice pick to it and now it throbbed in time to the knocking on the door.

Whoever it was would just have to come back later, because Jackie did not, under any means, want to get up. With that groggy thought, the artist snuggled back into the covers and tried to escape the knocking by covering his head with his pillow. However, Jackie’s prayers went unanswered as the knocking did not, in fact, cease. If anything, it became louder and more persistent, now accompanied by a familiar voice calling his name. It was Henrik, and boy did he sound aggravated. Why was Henrik here again? The night before suddenly returned to Jackie and he remembered the weird confrontation, the bite, and texting Henrik. Which meant the angry Henrik outside was a worried Henrik, and the longer he kept the German waiting, the more he was going to hear about it from the man.

“Alright, Alright! I’m coming!” Jackie called out. With an exhausted whine, Jackie forced his lead like limbs to cooperate, being careful to not to put weight onto his right arm. Instead, he pushed himself upright with left arm and stumbled out of bed, rubbing at his eyes as he shuffled to the door. The brunette gets as far as opening the door before Henrik is storming in, grabbing him by the back of the collar and dragging him right back into the main living area.

“What the hell, Hen?!” The artist squawks, stumbling to keep his balance as he’s dragged. He lands with an ‘Oof’ when Henrik pushes him to sit on the couch, the doctor grumbling unkind things under his breath in German as he goes. Jackie is quailed into silence with one stern glare from Henrik as the other goes to retrieve the first aid kid Jackie used last night from the bathroom.

“Vhat zhe hell? Iz zhat vreally vhat you’re zaying to ME? If ANYONE zhould be asking zhat, it zhould be ME! Vhat zhe hell iz vrong vith you, Jackie?!” Henrik ranted as he swiftly came marching back into the living room, aid kit in hand as he settled down beside the wounded brunette. “I pass out after a vreally difficult double zhift at zhe hospital vith my phone dead, only to find in zhe morning after charging my phone that my abzolute DUMMKOPF of a bester Freund haz gotten himzelf hurt, AGAIN. Not only zhat, but he ZTILL refuses to go to a hospital like a zane perzon! You’re going to give me grey hairz at zhis rate!”

Uh oh, Schneep’s accent was coming on thick, which after years of living in the states, only really ever happened when the German doctor was either drunk, or experiencing intense emotion. This was a sure fire sign that Henrik was genuinely either really angry, or really worried, but probably both. Jackie would know afterall, the two had been childhood friends ever since the other had moved in next door with his family from Germany. Being Henrik von Schneeplestein’s first and best friend in the states had afforded Jackie the privilege of being able to read the man like a book.

“You know how I feel about hospitals, ‘riky” Jackie said softly, giving Henrik a strained smile before glancing away from the doctor as gently took his arm to start unwrapping the bandages. “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry for worrying you. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, Jackie, but it’s been years now, you can’t keep avoiding them. They are there to help you just as I am, you can trust them” Henrik pleads quietly, tone softening and accent growing less pronounced as his initial agitation faded.

“You can’t keep doing this to me. I don’t think my heart can handle you sending me any more vague text about some injury you got, before dropping off the face of the earth. You weren’t answering any of my texts and that is truly a horrifying thing when I know you are injured, Jackie.” He continues, pausing in unwrapping the bandages to pop the aid kit open. “You’re too reckless for your own good, it’s bad for my heart. One of these days you’ll get hurt badly enough to have to go to the hospital because I won’t be able to help you here.”

“You warn me about it every time and it has yet to happen, ‘Rik, so I’d say I’m doing something right!” Jackie jokes, trying to lighten the mood back up. He glances down at his arm as the bloody bandages finally slide off. There’s a pause as both Jackie and Henrik have to take a few moments to process what was revealed.

Nothing. Nothing but smooth, unblemished skin was revealed. Despite the blood staining the bandage implying otherwise, there were no injuries. No puncture marks from sharp teeth, no tearing, not even a scratch or scar to indicate there had ever even been a wound there in the first place. Jackie couldn’t believe his eyes, because he knew for a FACT that there had been a wound concerning enough that he had decided to bother Henrik about it, and now it was just gone. There was no way he could have made up a wound like that, and there was certainly no way he had hallucinated the pain and exhaustion either.

“Jackie… Swear to god, if you broke out the SFX Make-up to prank me last night and then let me worry my ass off from the moment I saw the text until now, I am actually going to smack the shit outta you.” Henrik deadpanned to the stunned artist. While Jackie was having a small crisis over the magically disappearing punctures, Henrik was decidedly Unimpressed with the brunette. At the very least, his accent wasn’t choking his words like it had been when the man had come storming in. Henrik was disappointed, but Jackie wasn’t actually at risk of getting smacked.

“No, no, Henrik, I would never! You know I don’t like stressing you out like that!” Jackie defends, because while Henrik wasn’t truly furious with him, the artist still wanted to assert that he really wouldn’t do that to his best friend. He knew how busy Henrik was, between his shifts at the hospital and taking care of his kid. Jackie helped out where he could, babysitting his godchild whenever possible, but he knew how exhausted Henrik was and he would never want to needlessly bother his childhood friend like that.

“Then how else do you want to explain the fact that you are perfectly fine, Jackie? There’s nothing here for me to treat, it doesn’t even look like a cat scratched you.” Henrik counters, gesturing to Jackie’s barren arm before turning to close the first aid kit. “You can admit that you were just trying to mess with me, no matter how in poor taste I find that joke to be. You’re lucky that I’m too tired to be too upset about this. Please, just try not to make a habit out of pranking me by scaring the daylights out of me like this.”

“I- It sounds crazy, I know. I don’t know how this happened, but I know I wasn’t hallucinating last night. Mostly because I don’t think you can hallucinate things like pain and exhaustion, and I know I definitely didn’t do this to my hoodie” Jackie flounders for a moment, unsure how to convince Henrik of his honesty. It wasn’t like the other was wrong, he should still be hurt. Frankly, Jackie had no clue why he wasn't. Was he going crazy? No, there was definitely a wound, it showed up in the picture, otherwise Henrik wouldn’t be here.

“Look, I know this looks bad for my case, but I really didn’t prank you Henrik! I really was bitten by some guy last night! I have the ruined hoodie in the trash to prove it to ya, Hen!” Jackie insists, jumping up and rushing to the trash can to pull out the Hoodie, returning to show the other the ripped and bloodstained sleeve of the old, white hoodie.

“You could have just taken an old hoodie that you were going to throw out anyways and ripped it, added a little fake blood and planted in the trash to make your prank more believable” Henrik tried to deflect, but there was a slight hesitancy as he said it, eyeing the fabric as if he were debating how much he really believed what he just said.

“Why would I do that if the prank ended with you unwrapping the bandage and seeing nothing was wrong? You know I wouldn’t do that sort of thing” Jackie pushed hopefully, having seen the slight pause from the other. He wasn’t lying and he knew Henrik had to know that. They had known each other for far too long for Henrik to not know all of Jackie’s lying cues and who the artist was as a person.

“Look, Jackie, You sound awfully sincere right now, but I do not know why you are trying so hard to convince me that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate prank.” Henrik sighs, pushing his glasses up a little to pinch and rub at the bridge of his nose. “As much as I want to believe you, the tears in the fabric aren’t consistent with human teeth, and unless you suddenly developed super healing overnight, you are virtually unharmed. Which you would not be if you were genuinely injured.”

Jackie lets a hand fall to his right forearm, grazing the unblemished skin with a pensive, troubled look. He didn’t want Henrik thinking he was crazy, not that the other man seemed to believe him when he said he wasn’t pranking him. However, he didn’t have any proof that he could give to the doctor that the other man couldn’t shrug off as staged.

“Yes, as far as I am aware, but we might have to celebrate a little early. I don’t think I’ll be able to get Christmas off from work, since there’s always a bunch of idioten getting hurt over the holidays.” Henrik elaborates, getting up and putting the kit away before making his way to the door. Jackie trails along behind him, still holding his forearm as he listens to his friend. Henrik turns around to face the comic artist with a small, fond smile. “And if you are still sure you will be available to watch her next week, then yes. It would be much appreciated, you know how much she loves her Uncle Jackie.”

“Actually, though it is quite rare, people have reported tactile hallucinations like pain. The exhaustion could just be from you refusing to listen to my advice and pulling all nighters drawing.” Henrik points out with a raised eyebrow. “Look, Jackie, as much as I would love to stick around and hang out, I mean that sincerely, I really do need to go. I have to pick Willa up from Mein Elternhaus.”

“I.. Yeah, alright, say hi to Willy Bean and your parents for me. We still on for the Holidays?” Jackie finally acquiesced, letting the argument about his injury go. It was probably for the best, he wasn’t even sure what else he could say about it. Henrik seemed similarly relieved that they were moving on from what he thought to be a prank gone too far. “Oh! Do you still need a babysitter next week? I know you said your parents could handle Willa this week, but you know she’s always welcome here.”

“That sounds awesome, man, I’m definitely looking forward to it. I’ll never turn down looking after the rugrat.” Jackie shot back with an equally fond smile. His goddaughter would never fail to put him in a good mood, she was just so cute! With that, Henrik took his leave, the two brunettes exchanging a quick hug goodbye before the German made his departure. Jackie shuts the door behind Henrik, promptly letting his smile drop as he ruffles a hand through his hair, appreciating the texture difference between the shaved sides and the softer, fluffy top. He lets the feeling ground him as his thoughts race, darting back to the mystery surrounding his bite (or rather, the lack thereof).

With that, Jackie grabs a banana from the kitchen and heads to the bedroom to get changed. That way, he won’t have to worry about rushing to get ready, since he has a bad habit of losing track of time when he’s drawing. He changes his shirt out for a nice wine red sweater and a white undershirt, his sweatpants being replaced with a pair of black jeans. Once that is all settled, he takes a seat at the desk in his office with a pencil, a couple sheets of paper, and his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He really didn’t want to bother with his contacts today, so glasses it is.

“UUGH, How is that even freaking possible? Henrik might think I’m pranking him, but I know for a fact that happened last night… So what happened to the bite?” He thinks out loud to himself, pacing away from the door. As he passes the kitchen, he catches a glimpse of the microwave clock and lets out a sigh of relief.

“Well, at least I know how late I slept in. I still have a few hours before my shift starts, so I should have plenty of time to get ready.” Jackie muses, running his fingers through his hair again. “I should probably see if I can’t use this time to sketch out some panels, I can worry about this when I don’t have a deadline coming up.”

The brunette sets an alarm on his phone, knowing how he gets once he’s in the zone, and starts to work. It’s not long before he’s focused on the task at hand, the world around him fading out and the passage of time losing meaning to him. He’ll be here for awhile.

#JSE Egos #Jacksepticeye egos #Jackieboy man #jse jackieboy man #Henrik von schneeplestein #doctor schneeplestein #jse henrik #Werecreature AU

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imperfekti · 5 years

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Tenipuri Party: Tezuka Kunimitsu profile translation

TN:

In the absence of an official English version, this translation is intended to help those who can’t read the material in the original language. Please support Tenipuri by getting your own copy of this book - it is worth it! There are various ways of purchasing it even for those not living in or visiting Japan.

The pictures I have included in this post do not show full pages.

On the translation: this time I’m aiming for a more direct, “Japanese-sounding” translation to share the mood of the content more as it is. This will probably cause some sentences to appear weird in English.

On Tezuka’s style of speech: his word choices and sentence structures are mostly polite and serious.

I’m still working on Japanese, so there might be mistakes. Please let me know if you spot any translation errors so I can fix them here!

Tezuka Kunimitsu

U-17 German representative player Seishun Gakuen Middle-school player

Beyond the imagined future - the released challenger!!

Message

“For the support every day, I’m grateful. For the sake of becoming a professional, and for the sake of my tennis, I intend to earnestly keep confronting myself. I think you are the same. In the future as well, together. Let’s go without carelessness.”

Extra prize: A voucher for two at a high-class mountaintop hotel “An undeserved honor. I’m focusing on tennis right now, but… If I can make the time, I will gratefully use it. For two, huh…”

Profile

[DATA] Middle-school 3rd year / October 7th (Libra) / Blood type O / 179 cm / 58 → 61 kg / Left-handed

Special techniques: Drop shot, zero shiki drop shot, Muga no kyouchi, Hyakuren jitoku no kiwami, Saiki kanpatsu no kiwami, Tenimuhou no kiwami, Tezuka zone, Tezuka phantom, Zero shiki serve

Playstyle: All-rounder

Family: Grandfather, father, mother

Father’s occupation: company employee (business) (grandfather is a judo instructor for the police)

Hobbies: Mountain climbing, camping, fishing

Favourite saying: The enemy is within yourself

Favourite color: Green or blue

Favourite food: unacha (a dish with eel carefully broiled in soy-based sauce), Räucheraal (TN: smoked eel)

Favourite book: German-Japanese-German dictionary (to carry with him)

Favourite music: Classical (Beethoven)

Preferred type of person: Trying not to think about it at the moment.

Preferred date spot: Zugspitze

Most wanted item: A mountain model kit

Things he’s bad at/with: Being idle, colourful cakes

Elementary school: Seishun Dai Daiichi Elementary School

Committee: Student council president

Strong subjects: World history

Weak subjects: None

Often visited place in school: The library

Uses allowance on: Books

Skill outside tennis: Woodworking, preparing fish for cooking

Routine during tournament: Keeping a diary in German, watching foreign comedy-dramas.

Favourite anniversary: 23rd August

Preferred travel destination: Macchu Picchu ruins and Huayna Picchu

Present for a special person: Writing a letter of gratitude

Scenes

Injuries, seizing the nationals… Tezuka Kunimitsu overcame numerous challenges that waited for him and seized glory. But he is not a man who would be satisfied with that. From now on too, I want to pay attention to the steep path of him who moved over to Germany.

(Quotes on pictures:)

“I will not lose.”

“Saiki kanpatsu no kiwami!?”

“And then Seigaku’s era will begin once again!”

“Now, let’s go without carelessness.”

Indeed, it should perhaps be called a “Tezuka zone”.

“Hyakuren jitoku no kiwami!?”

This boy’s tennis is certainly Ten’imuhou no kiwami!?

“No matter who I will end up fighting… I will win!”

The German representatives’ strained atmosphere connects to rapid development (*1)

Tezuka-senshu (*2) becoming a German representative was a shock. Did you not have worries about this decision?

If I said no, it would be a lie. However, as to what is important for me as someone aiming to become a professional, I judged it to be fighting as a German representative and based my decision on that.

Specifically, the currently important thing for Tezuka-senshu is…?

Most of all, it is actual experience of fighting at a higher level. At the German training centre, I have the fortunate chance to rally with top pros like Volk-senshu. Even in practice, they are always making hypotheses as to which shot they should hit, what kind of a play they should make in any kind of match circumstances when they are standing on the court. Having put myself in such a strained atmosphere, I can truly feel my level of experience rising rapidly.

Any bewilderment at facing your former comrades…?

Whoever will become my opponent will not be a problem. But, at first, I thought I was feeling sorry. However, at the time of fighting Japan in the exhibition match, I came to realise my heart was throbbing about competing against them. But just fighting as sworn friends, it is not to elevate ourselves. Rather, by putting a net in-between and confronting each other, the light can come from a new angle and hasten growth - that is what I believe right now.

Then, what is Tezuka-senshu’s current objective or dream?

Upon seizing the world, to hold up the flag of Germany that showed in me, a foreigner. If the opponent for that match were to be Japan, there would not be higher joy.

In a well-ordered and non-negligent environment, pleasant days go on

Have you already grown accustomed to life in Germany?

Yes. Everything proceeds very systematically, so in that sense, it sometimes feels like it is actually even more pleasant than in Japan.

What things for example are like that?

Everyone is already gathered around 15 minutes before the set meeting time. The notion of ecology is growing, so most customers carry eco bags for their shopping, and the separation of waste is enforced thoroughly. Everything is done logically, and it’s an environment without negligence.

I see. It suits the serious Tezuka-senshu perfectly. Then, how do you spend your days off?

Touring antiquarian bookshops is currently my biggest enjoyment. From Goethe to Ende, I have been able to acquire several original texts that I couldn’t in Japan. Also, when time and money allow, I try to go to classical concerts.

What about the German language?

The German language too is a very systematic and logical language. There are very few exceptions, as long as one memorises the basic grammar and idioms, it is quite effective to use. Of course I still lack study, and there are many points where I lack experience, but words are not the only means of communication. Rather, sometimes it is facial expressions that speak more eloquently.

Facial expressions…?

Yes. Facial expressions.

Message for Tezuka Kunimitsu

As expected… should I say. Congratulations. (Inui)

YEEES! CONGRATULATIONS!! (Kawamura)

You should still be able to grow one rank higher. Put effort into your training. (Volk)

I will definitely not forget the thing that you taught me. Let’s meet on the court. (Fuji)

I’m glad you seem to be doing well in Germany too. Eat your meals properly! (Ooishi)

Tezuka-buchou-senpai, congratulations. We are protecting Seigaku. (Kaidou)

I’ll win one day, both in popularity and tennis! (Momoshiro)

You’re not planning on ending it at this? I’m waiting for the next opportunity to fight you. (Atobe)

Congratulatioons. But I’ll overcome you soon. (Echizen)

Are you doing well Tezuka? Send something tasty from Germany! (Kikumaru)

This guy is in 4th place!? Gimme a break! You can go higher than that! (Siegfried)

Party talk

Q: Who would you like to inform about this time’s rank and feelings? A: My family. My grandfather too is always supporting me.

Q: You are being served a lot of food. A: Ooishi. I’m grateful, but it’s already enough. I’m eating sufficiently… I tasted Japanese unacha for the first time in a while.

Q: You can also take part in an improvisation skit competition. A: … No, thank you. I was able to enjoy it quite a lot just by watching.

Q: You got excited with Bismarck-san, though... A: … I was merely unilaterally lectured about how to flirt with women.

Q: Who did you come to the venue with today? A: With the German representative senpai. In addition to training, we measured the time and ran to the venue.

Q: Oh? Is there something the matter with Echizen-kun? A: No. I just thought he seems to have gained experience and grown somewhat.

History

Age 0 October 7 Birth

Age 5 Makes a mistake in dance moves in a kindergarten’s play

Age 10 June Climbs Switzerland's Matterhorn with his father

Age 11 Summer Meets Yukimura and Sanada after the Jr. Tournament, has a match Goes fishing with grandfather, catches a sea bream

Age 12 March Graduates from Seishun Dai Daiichi Elementary School

April Enters Seishun Gakuen Middle School Is hit on the elbow with a racket by a senpai in the tennis club Is told to become "Seigaku's pillar of support" by Yamato

Age 13 November Displays a sketch of mountain grass in the culture festival

January Goes to the first shrine visit of New Year with the club’s 1st year members, makes a vow of conquering the nationals

April Becomes a 2nd year Becomes the vice captain of the tennis club

June Participates in a bread eating race in an athletic festivals, places second

September Gets lots of recommendation letters and becomes the student council president

Age 14 Declines the Jr. Senbatsu invitation Around autumn Has an uncomfortable feeling in his arm

October On the field trip (Taiwan), buys tea utensils for souvenirs

November At the Allied music festival (*3) , participates in the class chorus as a musical conductor

February For the first time in his life, forgets something

April Becomes a 3rd year Becomes the captain of the tennis club

May Wins Tokyo preliminaries championship Is mistaken for a teacher at Kawamura Sushi Has a match with Ryoma on courts underneath the railway

June Wins prefecturals championship Declines offer from the special overseas JFH program Goes to the drawings for the Kantou tournament

July Is invited to Hyoutei’s opera appreciation party as the student council president but declines Start of Kantou tournament In the first round against Hyoutei, loses to Atobe in S1 Goes to Kyuushuu for rehabilitation

July 27 Wins Kantou tournament championship

August 14 Drawing for the nationals, returns from Kyuushuu

August 17 Start of nationals Faces Higa in the 2nd round, wins against Kite in S1

August 19 Quarterfinals against Hyoutei, wins against Kabaji in S2 Semifinals against Shitenhouji, wins against the Chitose-Zaizen pair in D2 Yakiniku battle, is one of the last members remaining

August 23 Finals against Rikkai, loses to Sanada in S3 Wins nationals championship Goes to the victory celebration at Kawamura Sushi

Age 15 (*4) September Is invited to Rikkai’s ocean festival, makes guest participation in a play

October 12 Climbs Kitadake with father

November Participates in U-17 camp Wins against Kaidou in the “friendly fire” matches Learns about a fishing mobile game from Marui and Kirihara In the court shuffle between 3rd and 5th court, wins against Yamato Abandons the match against Fuji midway, departs for Germany Aiming to become professional, participates in the German representative team

December Participates in the U-17 Pre-World Cup drawings U-17 Pre-World Cup starts In Vs Japan, wins against Irie-Atobe pair in the second match U-17 World Cup starts Is drawn into a fight about food by Siegfried, eats Japanese food together Wins against South Africa and Canada

Plan

(Pictured: two documents of mountain climbing plans, including itinerary, packing list and map.)

“This is from when me and father climbed during consecutive holidays. When climbing mountains, let’s make plans properly and climb without carelessness.”

Fashion

It seems he didn’t bring much clothing with him from Japan. I will give you something next time. (Volk)

With Kunimitsu’s hair style, clothes from any country would suit him. (QP)

Wearing clothes you received just like that. That’s like you. (Fuji)

Whether the person in question is aware of it or not, wearing a waistcloth is quite stylish. (Kite)

“I am not a person who is particular about clothes, but only when it comes to shoes, I make it so that I can play tennis in them.”

Room

Bedroom of the room I’m staying in in Germany There’s only bare minimums like the bed and desk that were part of the furnishings. But I’m thankful that letters and daily necessities have been delivered from Japan. Overall, I like the things made from wood and seeing the townscape from the window.

TN:

*1 張り詰めた, haritsumeta. Strained, stretched, tense. Not strained in the sense of anxious or having problems. It seems more like everyone is ambitious and focused.

*2 選手, senshu: player, athlete. I chose to leave this as it is since the interviewer uses it all the time as an honorific, and couldn’t figure out a natural expression in English.

*3 連合音楽会, rengou ongaku kai. This seems to be some kind of an annual music event that at least schools participate into.

*4 It seems like a mistake that age 15 is placed at September, not October.

#my translation #tezuka kunimitsu #prince of tennis #new prince of tennis #seigaku #fuji shuusuke #otp #my captain

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flurrys-creativity · 4 years

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🌸20 Questions game 🌸

Tagged by @inkofyoongi It´s been some time 😅 thank you for tagging me again, Vale

Rules: answer 20 questions and then tag some more people

name: I actually don´t like my real name and nobody calls me with that anyway.. sooo I won´t say it (sorry but not sorry)

nicknames: Sid (yeah like Sid from Ice Age..) my dad created some strange nicknames for me based on that.. with some russian or polish abbrivations.. but never mind..

zodiac sign: Libra ⚖

height: 1,66 m

languages: German (I can understand Dutch too), English, Danish (I do understand Swedish and Norwegian as well), a little bit Italian (thanks to my Latin knowledge) AND I´m learning Korean at the moment

nationality: German and Danish

favourite season: Autumn!! It´s not too cold and not too warm and I don´t have to sneeze all the time like during Spring.. I love autumn!

favourite flower: uhm.. based on appearance cherry blossoms, based on scent roses, based on meaning white lillies and dandelions because they say “fuck you I grow anyway”💐

favourite scent: coconut or something citrussy, sometimes vanilla or freshly mowed grass

favourite colour: blue, like ocean blue, every variation of ocean blue like deep blue or blueish green or turquoise.. just ocean 😅

favourite animal: Orcas (killer whale), bats, owls, butterflies and basically any animal that doesn´t have more than six legs

favourite fictional characters: actually I do have a type.. tall, silent, stoic and darkish hair.. I just need three of these criteria and I´m already in love.. for example Makoto Tachibana from Free! (Sousuke as well but Makoto came first) or Todoroki Shoto from BNHA.. oh and any character that seems really nice but is a total badass like Nagisa Shiota from Assassination Classroom.. and in general I love all the characters from Haikyuu and I want to adopt all of them as my babies because they are soooooo adorable.. and dumb.. I love it

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: Hot chocolate! With sprinkles ✨

average sleep hours: uhm... depends? Sometimes like 4-6 hours.. sometimes more like 9-12 hours.. there is no in between

dog or cat person: I don´t mind both but if I had to choose a pet I would take a dog.. a real dog.. a dog that is big enough to carry my purse.. like a husky (absolute favourite breed 🤩)

number of blankets you sleep with: one? during winter sometimes two because I don´t like to heat my apartment

dream trip: yes.. like the world? 🗺 I do have a lot of places I want to see like beautiful nature and stuff like that.. a lot of places in Asia, Africa and Australia.. South America too.. so yeah my dream trip is basically being able to go everywhere

blog established: October 2019.. six months ago?! Wow.. I´m still pretty new 🙈

followers: They are the greatest! And I am thankful for each and everyone of them! Shout out to them! I wish you all the best! ❤💜💙💚💛🧡

random fact: Uhm.. A lot of people would picture me as strange because of my interests? It´s fun because my interests vary extremely from one thing to another.. like I love kpop and metal/rock, I sometimes watch wwe or survival shows like those with Bear Grylls (I admirer that man like a hell of a lot) but am a sucker for a good romance, I´m ace but do talk about sex constantly.. even my talents vary.. I think my whole being is some sort of Jack of all trades.. everything I start.. I get extremely fast a hang of it and get slightly better than the average but I never continue something seriously.. (it´s similar to JK? maybe it´s the JK syndrome 😅🙈)

So that was it about me.. Should you have read everything.. wow, thank you for your interest. 😅🙈 I hope I didn´t bored you too much..

And I am tagging @kpopisthereasonihavenolife @mygsii @justanotherbtsbitch @honeymoonjin @abangtanfangirl @hybridfanfiction @yoongs-jeontae

Please remember you only have to do it, if you want to. I´m still not sure if it´s okay to just tag whoever I want to.. so I hope I don´t bother you 🙈

#tagged #20 questions game #had a lot of fun #that was really random.. I think..#tag game #should you have other questions or want to know anything at all.. I´m always open and glad to answer

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funginerd · 6 years

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remember my thanksgiving list? this one is gonna be worse. yes you read right, im attempting this and i hope whoever sees this has a nice day and happy holidays. star tr.ek in more ways than i care to admit has shaped my life so to write paul and get back into the fandom felt like a fresh breeze while simultaneously it felt like coming home and i’m incredibly happy to be here again with such cool and kind folks like you all. basically, because german’s celebrate christmas on the 24th and we open our presents the same evening this might come as a pre-present to some of you but whatever. HAPPY HOLIDAYS, guys, under the cut is a long ass list from me to you to express just how grateful i am for you all to be here. i tried my best to include as many people as i could but of course, i sadly don't have the capacity to find kind words for all of my beauty followers but please be aware - and i might repeat myself but it doesn't make it less true - i love you all and im thankful you’re here with me.

in no particular order bc fuck me that's too much work (also wow jelly told me it was stupid to keep my conversations in tabs but tbh never really closing them really helped me here)

@infiinitepossibilities : im glad we started talking more. before i just knew you as this amazing multimuse writer who had all their muses down perfectly but now im getting to know you as an amazing person as well and that's just incredibly cool

@hcndlehim : adam, my dear boy adam. i love you. through many fandoms and over the course of many blogs we have stayed together and i can honestly say that is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. you’re such a delight to talk to and your writing has such a nice flow, so having you as my friend and writing partner for so long has just ?? made my a lot happier than you know

@culberr / @disciipled : i have time and time again told you i love your writing and i have no idea if oyu think im kidding when i say i show it off but some of my friends can confirm i did actually send stuff to them and i do gush about our amazing writing because i cannot get enough of your style (and oyu bc i lub u). your way of telling things just has such a nice and easy flow that it makes me want to never stop reading your things and we’re lvl 5 friends so when i say i hate how much i love everything you do im not lying. you are amazing and talented and such a nice guy like im still stocked to be able to call you that and not weird you out with that. i just ?? adore you

@stamcts : some people say my aesthetic is on point but they obviously have never seen your blog bc arthur? i love every single post you make. i have seen your ic posts, they’re great and your writing is beyond amazing so ?? let it be known i adore you and im jealous of your skills to dig up cool things on the internet. and ur writing skill, fuck you for that.

@lifedeathpeacewar : leo my boi, my friend,i just cannot tell you how easily i fall in love with people who stan the same people i stan and lets be honest i think you love him more than i do but that's okay bc this way i can focus some of my love on you. im one of the people that say i love duplicates but then only follow two idk why im just that weird but i know you’re doing great with my son and i know you’re doing even better with mark and lets be honest i already know you’re gonna be great with lucas as well bc you’re great with everything that you put your mind to and i envy you for that.

@orbinglight : i tried for your birthday already to express how much i love you but in no language the world has to offer there are enough words to really make it known just how much you really mean to me. im not as poetic as you are when it comes to praising and finding the right way to phrase things for you, so i just have to hope that you know - through all my clumsy attempts of telling you - just how near and dear to my heart you are. at this point you’re truly the person with the most beautiful soul i have ever met online or irl and i just cannot stand the thought of one day maybe not having you anymore because damn you’re gorgeous and amazing and talented and in so many ways the best thing that has happened to me on this blue hellsite

@selflessdoctor : i kinda wanna say see above bc for you too i feel all these things even though i dont always tell them as outright as i list them for artie but you’re important to me, having found you and somehow forced you into talking to me and becoming my friend was one of the best ideas i ever had and ? im so glad you let me - this odd girl you never met before - stick around and harras you. not really you know what i mean but like ?? i love you and i know i don't say that often enough but just let it be known you’re fucking perfect okay.

@turrissomnia : three god damn blog changes and you know what ? i still love you, im still impressed by your TOS knowledge and im still absolutely adoring your portrayals. now its just even more muses you’re nailing its really cool to watch tbh.

@bellicaptivus : i honestly dont understand your fascination with strudel but im here for it and im here for your absolute magnificent portrayal of this boi so stay awesome, stay here with us and ?? don’t change bc i absolutely adore you

@adheretologic : i probably mentioned this before but you were the first disco blog i ever followed, like i think you came before adam and i still very much love seeing you on my dash

@kelpiencomplexities : i wish we knew each other better, i wish i would see your writing but man, i just love you in general idk you just are such a delight, like you introduced yourself with a pun thats always a plus in my book im just ?? very happy to have you around friend you’e really cool

@georgiov : im extremely thankful for your patience, you somehow have managed to explain the basics of SW to me without losing your mind and all that while running an amazing disco blog? you’re and im running out of positive words but like you’re the best and i love you okay

@starxbcrn : you are so iconic its unfair, like look at you having all of this creativity and talent and somehow you always come back to your golden boi, i just ?? cannot not tell you how much you inspire me and how much i love seeing you around without having to use the thesaurus

@astromed : you aesthetic: on point. your mccoy: on point. your writing: unfairly amazing. i’ll be honest i like looking at your posts, i like reading your posts, i like just having you on my dash and from the few interactions we had i know you’re a cute bean. i said it before you got recommended to me by a friend and i cannot ever regret following you

@neverarhyme : call me a nerd but i love you and im very grateful we’ve managed to stick together through me ignoring your messages and you being you for two years already but you’ve somehow become one of my best friends on this website and i don't hate you for it. in fact im time and time again amazed at how oyu handle things, at how developed ver is and how you still manage to surprise me even tho so much time ahas passed.

@theharricr : lizzie, lizzie, lizzie, you are my light sometimes, i just ? i just absolutely love you, no strings attached i love talking to you, i love watching things with you just ?? being able to call you a friend is honestly making me so happy time and time again

@jaylahofussfranklin : you’re one of the people who sometimes pop up and sometimes vanish without a trace and honestly every time you come back to me im very happy about it. like - you’re cool, you’re one of my oldest friends here, probably the only german i want to talk to on this website and idk if i ever told you but your jaylah and your sarah are just fucking perfect.

@friendoftheood : honestly every time we talk you’re just the cutest bean and your grasp on rose is absolutely admirable. i have no idea why you think im worthy of having you follow me but im so grateful to have you around you can’t imagine

@cadetxtilly : you are honestly a bucket of sunshine and your tilly just absolutely makes me happy. she is very on point, she is very adorable and you convey every single aspect of her perfectly. your headcanons and ic posts about her just ?? make it really worth following you

@atomiism : would still 10/10 drop my man for you but real talk? when i rp’ed as ray and saw you and your blog and your writing i was ready to just completely give this boy over to you and what you have done with him since then is magical, i cannot believe someone as talented as you is here and likes me. even after so mayn months im still blown away by having met you, by knowing the face behind the brain that knows all these pretty words and can string them together like damn my darling dear you are perfect in every single way <3

@burnedlegend : you truly are a very special specimen. obv not in a bad way i mean i fucking love you but in a way that you’re so unique even though you’re sometimes a mess i can honestly say im looking forward to seeing you grow and be happy in your life bc already you have a fantastic personality and a kind soul and you’re so refreshing to talk to (when u fucking answer) idk if i have told you lately, probably not bc lets face it i suck as well, but i adore you and i value your friendship and i’ll always be here if you need me. you’re great no matter what anyone says, bc you’re you and i love that man that i have come to know over the course of this year bc he is such a passionate disaster and i wouldn’t want you to stop being you for anything in the world.

@revivedlegend : you’re an absolute dear, you have been there for me in tough times and you’ve given me so many great advice i honestly don't know what i would do without you. i know life is hard and i know people say it gets better but sometimes it doesn’t look that way? listen, you’re perfect and you deserve good things and im absolutely positive that you’ll reach great things, that life will be beautiful for you but until then im here for you and i love you with all of my heart and some that i borrowed from gabe. you are amazingly creative even if you dont see that right know but i have always loved your portrayals, your writing and your devotion to the things you love. christina you’re fantastic, okay. <3

@warsighted : i love you, i hate your penname but i love everything else about you. listen, from the way you approach characters to the way your characterise them and the way you plot and the way you get excited about things. i love all of that. you’re incredible and so nice on top of being stupidly talented. its honestly unfair thank god you’re balancing that out with a weird penname xD

@outlawiism : how can i make this list and not say something nice about you? kinda not an option tbh bc you’re this amazing ball of positivity even when times are rough its just magical to see you on my dash and now that we talk again its just making me want to be the best version of myself so i can spread just as much positivity and make people happy and honestly? all that aside your love and devotion to peter is one of a kind, your writing is flawless and i just hope ?? one day you’re gonna archive your dreams and do the things you want and tbh you deserve cool things happening to you. so knock on wood for that!

@srenity & @courtesn : sorry im throwing you both together like this but liten, i’ve loved your inara before and im incredibly happy you’re back and now seeing the both of you play this otp out is something i hadn’t known i needed bc you’re not just beautifully on point but you’re both carrying the fandom with your fantastic writing its just making me love firefly so much more thanks to you two <3

@snowinabottle : you’re cute, your girl is cute, your blog is cute, your aesthetic is cute idk maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't but im not the best with words i just ? don't know how i should tell you but i like having you around and i like seeing you on my dash and i just like you in general okay? okay

@stellaexlacrima : im always weak for ocs even tho sometimes it takes me a while to get to know them and im sorry we didnt start talking sooner bc now that i know you i cannot believe i was so blind to your genius for so long. honestly? i love you, i loved plotting with you, i loved talking to you and im absolutely positive i will love writing with yoou no matter how slow i am. im absolutely excited for our thread, im excited for orange people and weird caves and wicked plant sutff bc i a excited to let paul have this adventure with anika

@multamusae : you are one of the people on this website who somehow manage to be very productive and as much as it sometimes makes me feel funny very often i look at your blog and im just astonished by the sheer amount of work and effort you put into everything. you are incredible, you’re so cool and your ocs give me all the life, i originally followed you for your mycroft and im still here it feels like years have passed and you’re still this amazingly talented writer from so long ago please don't ever change in that way.

@childzerozeronine : we don’t talk often enough and that is partially my fault and partially yours but let it be known im very happy that we did eventually started talking after so long of just loving artie together. nine is one of the best stranger thangs ocs i have ever seen and we both know for a while you couldn't look anywhere without them but she is amazing and i love her and i love you and im sorry im not the best chat partner

@derbefehl : we honestly have never talked but i feel very much drawn towards you for you have shown a great taste in muse, a great taste in ivan and you’re just all around ? really cool to have on my dash? i really like your writing like damn that's some good stuff you have right there

@chosemypain : i know we never talked but jelly is really loving your portrayal and honestly that’s good enough for me, you have shown great taste in show and muse and im all here for your brilliance tbh

@espressovixen / @brokenspy : vicky my dear, im sorry im not on jayne so it might be confusing but it is i, your local disappointment: dottie. can i just take a moment and tell you: you’re probably one of my favourite writers? like idk if you can tell but i have seen so many people, i’ve seen so many different writings styles and yours is just ? outstanding to me. your love and passion for your girls is magical, your personality is so sweet and kind and i ? cannot believe how lucky i am to call you a friend, i’ve literally been in love with your writing like four blogs ago already.

@fasciinating : you are probably one of the first spocks i EVER found and honestly i can’t believe i got so lucky that you follow me back, i swear whenever i see you on my dash im just blown away by your talent and portrayal

@methodcop : over different blogs and fandoms neither of us is in im very glad we seem to keep finding each other over and over again. you truly are one of these people that you just ?? don't feel right not having on the dash, skye you’re amazing and i love you okay? okay

@rendczvous : fish, im sorry you’re last on this list and i wasn’t sure if i should even say something but honestly i just kind of have to. you are so cute and jelly loves you so much i sorta have to be thankful that you put up with her when im not around and honestly that in itself is a feat already but then you write and its just like woah you’re not just cute but also talented and honestly i find that unfair and i would like to file a complaint

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST EVEN MORE AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE AND I LOVE YOU ALL EVEN THO WE NEVER TALKED THE AMOUNT OF TALENT ON THIS LIST IS OVERWHELMING TURNING CAPSLOCK OFF IS IMPOSSIBLE BC I FEEL VERY STRONGLY ABOUT THIS:

@newaldera / @sunworn / @noprodigalson (ur a cutie and i feel like i had to mention that here) / @selfsaving / @stellarumwomen / @monstrousmade / @resistancehistorian / @astradie / @chpls / @seeheroic / @livesinnarrative / @hopefired / @danversiism / @dancerdoc / @acepilct / @starshipxcaptain / @starfleets1stmutineer / @pcrsonae / @spacemarincr / @saevio / @starjourney / @theholisticdetective / @paramounticebound / @ichorcrowncd / @abscntee / @boywonderish & @needanswers (im convinced you two are just the real deal and the hsow never ended like you two really are that good) / @boldlylogical / @aprettygooddetective / @amcrist / @enhanc / @mysticwiitch / @coneyislandcastaway / @daredbetter / @atlantisking / @164 / @zooomies / @xenobridge / @thistimefeelsnew / @chaxswalking / @hisgenius / @verycivilofyou / @five-guns-days / @interstel / @superiorambition / @thedestrcyer / @astrcphobia / @admiralsdontfly / @addsalsa / @sempitern / @heroheart / @thexjoinedxsurgeon / @xaedificare / @quietresistance / @falsepsychiic / @gcdlikc / @makeshistory / @positronicminds / @honoredsouls / @zherka / @samenkomen / @spaceforkirk / @definiibus / @captainussdiscovery / @mavxricks <3 / @ofstarrynights / @1stofficerspock / @humanandvulcan / @nxtasidekick / @dutyandcompassion

wow. ehm happy holidays guys and im so sorry if i have missed anyone i truly tired my best.

#&「 sᴘᴀᴄᴇ ɪɴ ɢᴀʏs 」. ( ooc )#(the gigantic holidays bias list nobody asked for)

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blessed-but-distressed · 6 years

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This is a thing that I wrote a long time ago.

It isn’t fanfiction. It’s just fiction.

I will be posting here until I think of what to do with it.

FERNWEH

When Becca decides to shake off those shackles and get the hell outta Dodge, she doesn’t have many regrets. She won’t miss those late nights folding baby clothes at her local All Baby Needs SuperStore. She won’t miss her distant parents or her uninspiring classes for her useless degree. The only person she will miss is Jack.

Jack is stuck in the post-university, pre-real job wasteland of delayed adolescence. He doesn’t know if he is a socialist, or an anarchist, or just reads too many books. He stacks vegetables, he haunts libraries and he chases girls. But now his best friend is leaving town, and he doesn’t know if he can handle being left behind.

A story about growing up, leaving home, staying behind, sad bastard music and the people who make everything bearable.

Chapter One:

Becca

Truthfully, I can handle all of it. The cloying stench of mouldy socks and clove cigarettes. The scratchy, standard-issue woollen blanket that wasn’t quite enough to wade off the night-time chill. The oddly masculine snoring that would make any trucker proud. The clanking of pipes in the wall beside my bed that had me sat bolt upright on my first night, half convinced the ghost of Jacob Marley was coming for me, dragging the chains he’d forged in life. All of this didn’t bother me. Not really. But the weeping. I couldn’t handle the fucking weeping.

I’d been sharing a room in Berlin’s cheapest youth hostel for a week with Ilonka, from Hungary. Ilonka the weeper. And we aren’t talking about girlish sobs here, with intermittent hiccups. Oh no. Not Ilonka. Beautiful, heartbroken, weeping Ilonka. She didn’t do anything by half measures.

She’d told me her life story on the first night, over a Midori and lemonade in the bar downstairs. I was quickly coming to the realisation that this was how it was done. Nothing in Backpacker World got done without a bit of Dutch courage.

Ilonka’s story was that she’d come to Berlin to intern at one of those ridiculously trendy, ridiculously contemporary art galleries in Kreuzberg. Which made sense. With her extensive collection of very cute multi-coloured berets, long, lean legs encased habitually in skinny jeans, and her Franka Potente in Run Lola Run hair, she certainly looked the part. She made me feel inadequate every time she entered a room, and I was convinced that was at least half of what contemporary art was all about.

Which is why it was so disconcerting when halfway through her third Midori and lemonade, big fat tears began to slip down her perfect, Eastern European face, and into her drink, which she continued to sip through her straw, unperturbed. Then, without much warning, she keeled forward, and a high-pitched noise of distress began to rise from the back of her throat, not unlike that of an ambulance leaving the scene of an accident. The barman, cute and Irish though he may have been, gave us that ‘You’d better clear the fuck out’ look perfected by cute Irish bartenders the world over, and I bundled her upstairs before he summoned over the bouncer, who was significantly more intimidating.

Once I’d gotten her settled on her twin bed, she pulled herself together enough to relate to me the rest of the story. On her third week into her internship, she’d rung up her boyfriend, Kolos, back home in Budapest, and her best friend had answered the phone. Turns out they’d been screwing around behind her back for the last six months, and they had used Ilonka’s absence to move in together. Which you have to give points for, if only for the sheer brazen cowardice of it all. Were they going to keep up the charade until it came time to ask her to be the Maid of Honour at their wedding?

Ilonka was a wreck. She’d keep it together all day, every day at work, but as soon as she got back into the room she would just lie on her bed, crying inconsolably for hours, until she eventually, mercifully, fell asleep. If she wasn’t weeping, she was sitting on the window sill, where she had pried the window open, and was smoking her favourite clove cigarettes in flagrant disregard of our dorm’s no smoking policy, and my (fabricated) assertions that I was an asthmatic. She’d hold her cigarette in one hand and her mobile phone in the other, and yell obscenities in Hungarian to whoever was on the other end, in between puffs. I don’t speak a lick of Hungarian, but you can always tell an obscenity, no matter the language. It’s about the force behind the delivery. The venom behind the words.

The hostel had been chosen for its location, just off the Ku'damm, not for its internal décor or sterling customer service record. Which is just as well, because I’d been in cancer wards with more cheer; the grey-speckled institutional style walls hinting at the building’s previous life as an insane asylum perhaps, or at the very least a reform school. My polite request to move to a different room had been met with a coolly raised eyebrow, and an unconvincing promise that they’d see what they could do.

It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for my first foray into the world of international travel. But it certainly made for interesting anecdotes for my emails sent back home.

I’d say things were going much better for me outside of the hostel, but that was a matter of some debate.

A few months back, embittered by my slow slide from promising Journalism student to person-who-straightens-cans-of-baby-food-in-a-budget-department-store-for-a-living, I’d stayed up until four in the morning one night, researching methods of escaping the monotonous retail hell that my life had become.

My unlikely salvation was with a company that would pay for me to fly to Germany to work as an Au Pair for a year. They’d even put me up in Berlin for a month, so I could brush up on the language, before they dispatched me to the family they would pair me with. All of those weekend evenings spent wrangling my neighbour’s kids to bed when I was sixteen had suddenly come in handy, and I had signed on the dotted line.

Of course, when I say “brush up on the language”, I mean learn from scratch. Of course. German had never been an elective at high school. I’d learnt Italian, although that data had almost been completely rewritten in my mind, replaced with an intricate knowledge of song lyrics by a particular favourite band of mine, who specialised in what my friend Jack liked to call “Sad Bastard Music.”

The total sum of my German language proficiency before my departure had been restricted to numbers one through ten, hello, good bye, thank you, and handful of random phrases one picks up after a lifetime of watching World War Two dramas, none of which were suitable for polite company. My knowledge of German culture was mostly restricted to a general appreciation for Daniel Brühl’s face, and a vague recollection of having read Faust when I was fourteen.

It was not until I took a seat on the first day of classes, that I realised what a grave mistake I had made. There was no way I would be able to wrangle children, even relatively small, uncomplicated ones, in four weeks time, with absolutely zero grasp on the language. It was impossible. Unfathomable.

Our teacher was a jovial fellow called Hans-Peter. He had the kind of white bushy moustache and knitted jumpers which made him look rather like a benevolent tug-boat captain, and kind eyes that encouraged students to take risks where they might otherwise have kept silent. He was a good teacher. I could tell. But there was no way in hell he was going to make me semi-fluent within a month.

Every classroom in the language school was named after a particular river in Germany. Our classroom, Donau, which I later discovered was the German word for the Danube, was right at the top of three dizzyingly uneven flights of stairs, in a converted attic where every inch of wall space was dedicated to laminated charts depicting a different German verb, and its various forms. It also had a broken radiator, which Hans-Peter would kick good-naturedly every morning when it failed to break the chill, before instructing us to keep our gloves on.

That’s the first useful German phrase I learn.

“Handschuhe auf!“ Gloves on.

The second:

“Jacken auf!“ Jackets on.

I’d always had a natural talent for scholastic endeavours. Which is to say, I’d really crashed and burned at university when I’d gotten through twelve years of schooling without really trying too hard, to find I actually had no idea how to study. But I’d always managed to scrape by on natural ability. I had no natural ability when it came to German. I was a babe in the woods. And I definitely needed to study.

Being in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language is a little like being a newborn lamb. You stumble a lot, and you’re vulnerable as hell, but everyone finds you pretty damn adorable anyway, for the most part. But for someone who has always been really good at things, it is the ultimate exercise in humility. Suddenly, you’re unable to do even the most simplest of things. Order a coffee. Ask for directions. Make an effusive apology to the angry looking guy you bump into on the train.

It had taken me five whole days to work up the necessary courage to approach even a McDonalds counter. I practiced the order in my head, as I waited in line.

“Ein Happy Meal, bitte.” One Happy Meal, please.

I didn’t think even I could fuck that up. I tried to anticipate what questions they would ask me, in which order. Would I like a toy? Would I like ketchup?

When they asked me if I wanted mayo or ketchup on my fries, the unexpected option made me answer in the affirmative, without specifying which I preferred, pissing off the harried-looking girl behind the counter in the process. I could feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment, and I backed away from the counter, waving my hands and butchering an apology in my pidgin German.

I never went back to that McDonalds.

Like a diamond in the rough, I found a T-Mobile payphone on my way back to the hostel and I fed about ten euro in change into the machine until it finally connected me to Jack’s mobile. It rang out, and went to voicemail, and instead of leaving a message, I hung up the receiver, and burst into angry, embarrassed tears. I didn’t get any change back, either.

Wiping my face clean with the sleeve of my coat, I hurried back to the hostel, before I could make an idiot of myself in some new way. Still hungry, I raided the vending machine in the lobby, and sat on my bed eating out-of-date chips until Ilonka had returned. She took one look at my tear-stained face and unsatisfying dinner and bundled me into my coat and took me out to an Irish Pub around the corner for a pint of Guinness and something called a Blarney Burger.

“It will not always be so,” she reminds me sagely, as she steals a chip from my plate. And for a little while there, Ilonka is my hero. When I grow up I want to be just like her. We sing Cranberries songs together, and make the acquaintance of some chipper blokes from County Clare who are, of course, enamoured with Ilonka’s ethereal Eastern European beauty, and keep us plied with enough black stuff that I quite forget about the dizzying regret that has been eating me away inside for days.

But later that night, the weeping starts again, and it chips away, slowly but steadily, at my newfound regard for her. I get up for class early the next morning, head still throbbing from the previous night’s excesses, and leave her a note on her bedside table.

“It will not always be so.”

#fernweh #rachel writes

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postimpression · 7 years

Quote

I’ve been quiet the past few days due to overwhelm and very big feelings, and am still struggling to gather thoughts. I know there are things that white people need to be doing and talking about right now, and I am trying to do those things. And what is also true in my body is that when I see Nazis marching, it doesn’t make me feel my whiteness so much as it makes me feel my Jewishness. I’m overwhelmed with Jewish feelings right now. I find it very hard to talk about the intersection of white privilege and Jewishness that I inhabit and that lives inside of me as a white-skinned Jew. I actually understand this complexity pretty well inside of myself but to try to discuss it with anyone who is not a white-skinned Jew like me makes me feel frightened and hopeless and, in the end, sleepy. I end up talking about white privilege a lot more than I do about the complex and layered thing that it is to be a white-skinned Jew. I’m not ashamed of the things that I say when I am talking about whiteness and what I am saying is true in my heart, but it is only part of what is true about my life and my history. By telling only part of the truth I end up feeling so invisible and so lonely, even though I am helping to invisibilize myself. I was exposed to the idea and the experience of white privilege very early in my life, but even so, it continues to take years and years and years to unfold for me, all the ways that I’m treated with forgiveness and second chances and softness and the benefit of the doubt, and a general default of respect for my body and my sovereignty. One time I lost my wallet inside of my own car and I was able to withdraw funds from my bank account, with just a library card and a utility bill and facts about my own life as my only forms of identification. That is whiteness! It is hard to see those things that have always been present in your life, which you may not know are absent in the lives of others, so as I said, the awareness slowly unfurls over the course of years. I am not denying any of this when I talk about what it is like to be both a white person and a Jew. Everything I am saying about white privilege is true, and everything I’m about to say about being a Jew is also true. Every oppression is special and unique and one of anti-Semitism’s key qualities is its rhythm. It is not relentless; it is cyclical. During the good times everyone but us starts to forget anti-Semitism and starts to think it is a thing of the past. During those times, the Jews who can — the ones who look white in the US, or the ones who could pass for German, or Spanish, or whoever were the people in power in the place where we were — would assimilate and accrue some degree of wealth and power and privilege. But then something goes wrong in that place — the economy crashes, unemployment rises, the wheels begin to fall off — and the active phase of anti-Semitism begins. We’re to blame for everything. We’re the secret conspiracy behind everything that has gone wrong. We’re not German anymore; we’re not Spanish anymore; we’re Jews. We’re the poison that everyone can agree on, the thing that everyone can hate. What I’m trying to say here is that the privilege that accrues during the good times is very much real, and I am not denying or hiding that. It is also true that the privilege is provisional, and can be revoked, and becomes the very thing that is used against us when the shoe finally drops. It overwhelms me trying to explain this history and how both of these things live inside my body: the very real privilege but also the very real and repeated experiences of expulsion, scapegoating, genocide, and terror. I talk about the part that is easier, but then I end up feeling very alone. When I was younger and people would ask if I was Jewish I would say, “My grandparents are Jewish,” as if it is something we had grown out of after a few generations in this country. My last name — my Jewish, Jewish name — was something that I always hated, and in high school I wanted so badly to change it. I once saw the name “Pruitt” on a gravestone and thought that it was the most beautiful thing. Now I am so thankful to my name, and to my hair and even to my face, which have always marked me as a Jew and kept me tethered to myself. Sometimes I’m so astonished and grateful to my ancestors who stayed Jewish, generation after generation, when it was not strategic or safe to do so. Now I’ve grown into my name and I will be a Jew until there is nothing else left. When I read that the synagogue in Charlottesville was surrounded by armed Nazis and that the people smuggled the Torah scrolls out of the building to hide them, I wept. I want you to know what a Torah scroll is because I want you to understand. We are a people of the book and that is Our Book; we are a people of memory and that is our memory. It is written on sheep skin and it is handwritten, every letter. A Torah scroll is difficult to make and because of that there are not very many of them. It is not a book that you buy in a store. In some ways it has the status of a human being. It wears a breastplate like the priests did in the ancient Temple. When it passes by we touch it with our prayer shawl and then we put the shawl to our lips, a way to kiss it without touching, and a scroll may stand in for a human person in reaching a minyan (the quorum required to recite certain prayers). It is written without vowels, without punctuation, without the markings that tell you how to sing it, yet there is a way to sing every single word of it; one thing you may not know about me is that I know how to do this. When you read from it you don’t touch it with your own finger, but you use a pointer which is itself shaped like a finger. It is our past and our future and so it is treated like the most respected elder and also the most precious child. It has a home: inside the ark, with the ner tamid (“the light, always”), in the sanctuary. I want you to understand this because I want you to know how important it is to protect a Torah scroll and what it means to be separate from it. I want you to understand how much pain and how much fear a Jewish community is in when they take the scrolls from their proper home and hide them in someone’s basement. I want you to understand why, when I read that, I felt so heartbroken and so afraid. This intersection of privilege and terror that is being a white-skinned Jew is very complicated. I am struggling with it from the inside. I want people who care for me and for other Jews to struggle with it from the outside. I want you to try to understand us. I want you to know that we’re not just like regular white people, only louder and with more movement of hands. We’re a complicated and layered thing. To understand us you have to go both backward and forward in time. You have to understand that Jewish time is like geologic time, that 150 or 500 years between expulsions is not that long; it’s not long enough to forget, or to rest. Please fight to understand us, in all of our complexity. I also want you to try to love us. It has always felt true to me that we are not liked. Many people like me as an individual person, but I have always felt that my truest Jewish self is not a loved and welcomed thing, and that as a collective whole, we are not wanted. I have felt over the past few years that my constant work of being smart and funny and helpful, my efforts to feed everyone and be of use are not just something I came up with personally but are Jewish in origin. It’s not that I’m trying to set myself apart from other Jews by being good good good, but I am trying to offset the inherent deficit of being at my core an unlikable Jew. I would love so much to not feel this way. I would love to feel like my whole Jewish self is a beloved and valued thing. We are all working hard to survive and thrive, to love and resist in these times. Thank you for reading this and for everything that you are doing to fight for yourself and others.

Danica Bornstein, August 18

#Jumblr #Jewish #antisemitism #white privilege #charlottesville

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livelikebrent · 7 years

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Stop 5: Syracuse, NY

“She just has such a natural beauty. She’s one of the prettiest girls I know.” Brent adored Amanda and said this about her on multiple occasions. Brent adored Drew too. They were some of his best friends from back home in Wilkes-Barre. I adore them too.

Originally, Stop 5 was supposed to be Acadia National Park in Maine...but I simply did not carve out enough time for the trip (oops!). So, with that trip being postponed until the spring the obvious second choice was Syracuse to visit 8 month pregnant parents to be, Amanda and Drew! The last time Brent and I stopped through to visit Syracuse (rather briefly) was after we had gone camping in the Adirondacks in July of 2015. I remember we parked the Jeep at Forked Lake Campground and hiked maybe about a half mile to our spot which was right next to the lake and was picture perfect (until it rained later that evening). The site came with a picnic table and benches and whoever had the site before us, placed several tree stumps around the “fire pit”. So we set up the tent, hammock and walked around the area a bit.

I started dinner while Brent went to get more firewood from the car. Then hopped in his hammock with a Bells Two Hearted Ale. Brent came back with firewood and flowers he picked along the way for me. After we ate we enjoyed the fire and beers before it started to downpour. We didn’t mind though as we planned on waking up with the sun the next morning to go on quite the hike.

Pictured above is us a smidge tired and sweaty after an upwards hike for 3 hours and 4,626 ft. at the top of Giant Mountain in New York. I like hiking but I like to work towards something. That something could be a killer view, waterfalls or anything to keep me motivated. This was quite the view and I remember that the camera couldn’t truly capture the depths of the mountains and how beautiful the view actually was. I also remember Brent struggling a bit during the hike...at one point (I think we were about a third of the way to the top) I looked at him and told him we didn’t have to complete the hike and could just turn around. I could barely even finish that sentence before he looked at me and said, “I didn’t just beat cancer.” When he said the word “just” he drew out the “uhhh” in an annoyed voice. He said that if he could beat cancer and he could get to the top of the mountain. Did any of you just chuckle while hearing him say this in your head? I did. He was a determined and smarty-pants at times. That’s what I liked about him. Not only did he have motivation but determination.

Brendan and I pulled up to a cute little house with a Blazer in the driveway marked with a “LiveLikeBrent” sticker on the back windshield. Amanda, belly and all, came out from the garage led by Bear, their puppy. Bear is a gorgeous mix of German Sheppard and who knows what else and has the softest coat I’ve ever felt. Drew and Amanda gave us the tour of their home and property. During said tour, Drew said he was sold on the house just by the backyard. Their home sits on a decent sized lot with a backyard that backs up to the woods. There’s a slight up slope towards the back of their property where they have Adirondack chairs in front of a fire pit. I originally thought it was a pizza oven due to the fact Drew isn’t a stranger in the kitchen. Turns out that’s what he eventually wants to do with it. So obviously I’ll be back but only when that’s completed.

After we got settled we hopped in the car and went to Emipre Brewing Co. for a late lunch and some beers. As we pulled up I didn’t realize how massive of a facility Empire was...I suppose the name is fitting. On the other hand, Drew couldn’t get over how packed it was. I mean, it was a Saturday afternoon. In October. In Syracuse. With perfect weather.

“Empire Farm Brewery, est.2016, is the largest Farm Brewery on the East Coast. Over 22 acres were developed for educational and beer production purposes. Boasting a new 60 bbl automated brewhouse, the Empire Farm Brewery is producing kegs and bottles for regional, national and international distribution. Bottled lineup includes 3 time consecutive Great American Beer Fest gold medal winner; Skinny Atlas Light, White Aphro, Slo Mo’ IPA, East Coast Amber Ale, and World Beer Cup gold medal winner; Black Magic Stout. Located in Cazenovia, NY, the property also grows hops, lavender, vegetables, herbs, and fruits for use in the brewing process and to support the needs of Empire’s downtown brewpub.

The agricultural component was designed in conjunction with Professor Matthew Potteiger and the graduate student body from the Department of Landscape Architecture, State University of New York, College of Environmental Science and Forestry. The Empire Farm Brewery was the class project for ESF’s spring 2012 semester.”

Reading that makes the place sound somewhat dreamy, right? It kinda was. The inside was nice, still smelled somewhat new. The place was jammin’ and as we were ordering our beers and a lemonade for the mama to be, a table opened up. What was neat about the place was that they had long communal picnic tables and “round” tables made out of tree trunks which is where we sat. There is a patio out back with tables, a bar and several corn hole sets. I kept looking around not being able to get over the size of the place. We ordered some food and caught up with one another. Drew knew Brent from back in the day in grade school and had been friends ever since. Amanda met Brent through mutual friends later in life in high school. Brent mentioned to me the first time Amanda told him she liked Drew. It was at a concert of sorts (most likely moe. or something along those lines) where she said it and Brent’s reply was something similar to “Yeah, me too.” ... but she corrected him on what she actually meant. They’re a super sweet couple. The first time I met them was New Year’s Eve 2014. They were staying the weekend at Brent’s apartment in East Falls. I remember Drew cooking dinner for all of us at Danny and Dana’s place. He made quite the meal with nice steaks. The following day I remember learning that apparently eating pork on New Year’s Day is a Polish tradition. I think we even had some venison if my memory serves me correctly. At that point in time, I just knew Drew as the friend that could cook and Amanda as “the most naturally beautiful girls” Brent knew...and his best friends of course.

We ate, drank and tossed around baby name ideas. After Empire we decided to do “fall things” (with the rest of the state of New York) since the weather was so beautiful. We drove to a place called Tim’s Pumpkin Patch. Why did we drive close to a half hour and pass maybe half a dozen orchards and pumpkin stands just to go to Tim’s? Well, first of all it has a 4.4 star rating on Google...so there’s that. But in addition to pumpkin picking they have a brewery, bakery, animals and well, Amanda insisted. When we arrived, I bought everyone some farm feed along with beers and ciders before going to visit the animals. After we cooed over the baby goats, pigs and cows we stopped for some fresh apple fritters before heading into the corn maze. The maze was so difficult we ended up coming out where we began and probably didn’t even touch half of the maze. If the sun wasn’t setting we probably would’ve given it another shot. But at that point we wanted to pick our pumpkins, snag a quick photo of the parents to be and hit the road.

When we got back to Drew and Amanda’s home we were greeted by Bear who quite honestly Brendan and I could not get enough of the entire visit. By the way, he is SUCH a good boy.

We hung out for a while. Amanda and Drew then ended up taking us to a place called Seneca Street Brew Pub where I had a Cider Creek Smoked Up Cider. I thought it ruled and was very much alone on this. Give me anything and everything smoked and I’ll consume it...meat, cheese, beer and ciders. This brew pub was in the basement of a renovated church with a bottle shop on top. It truly didn’t feel like a church by any means but was still a cool spot. The bottle shop had dozens and dozens of locally brewed beers, ciders and some wines. I did fail to take a photo of this place. (I actually forgot to take a lot of photos over the weekend!) After we had a drink we walked down the street in downtown Manlius to IronWood Pizza for some dinner. It had a cool vibe inside and an extensive craft beer list. It had an alternative atmosphere with some cool graffiti on the wall in the main dining room and had somewhat industrial touches around the place.

After we ate we went back and the boys built a fire. There was a meteor shower the night before so we hung out in hopes to catch a meteor or two. Drew said he had been listening to some of Brent’s playlists and suggested that we throw one on. So we did. We played some of Brent’s music from Spotify and enjoyed the night. You can view and play Brent’s public playlists on Spotify right here. Note: I’m not sure if they will disappear once his subscription is not renewed. So please download or screenshot the playlists for future reference if you wish!

Sunday morning was a treat. Amanda and Drew have their Sunday ritual which is checking out the Central New York Regional Market. Brendan had already had his eye on visiting this place. The market has been there for YEARS and has Sunday flea markets, Saturday farmers markets and even serves as a live music venue occasionally. The market has several “sheds” which are extremely long structures with garage doors along the sides where vendor after vendor set up for the day. You can find pretty much anything there. Some people bring their junk, some have brand new items with price tag stickers still on them and then people who have some neat odds and ends. I walked out of there with three silver candle stick holders that just need some polish that I bought for a whopping $2. Amanda and Drew found a metal tub type bucket, kitchen tools and some Simpsons books...yes, as in the TV show. According to Drew the place was “empty” and gets packed in the summers. But I actually thought there were a decent amount of vendors there...but I would have no problem making the trip back up in the summertime. I LOVE flea markets, antique shops, thrift stores, indoor markets, outdoor markets, whatever sort of place that has potential for cool finds.

Speaking of cool finds, we “found” some barbecue too. It was just about lunchtime and before Brendan and I even got to Syracuse that weekend, we decided we would go to Dinosaur Bar-B-Que. I actually had no idea this place originated in Syracuse but had been to a location in Brooklyn several years back. We made it right before the Sunday afternoon rush and got a table in a booth. Amanda had mentioned a couple of times that they had solid bloody marys. She ordered a virgin and I told the waitress I’d take Amanda’s vodka. It was a really good bloody mary. It was spicy and whatever dry rub of their’s they rim the glass with was spot on. We started with their fried green tomatoes to share and then ribs, pulled pork, corn bread, mac and cheese were ordered...but I don’t even think that was half of what was order for the table.

This photo above it definitely one of my new favorites. I’m full again just looking at this picture. After I ate my sandwich I could hardly touch the rest of my sides. Or even think about them. Everything tasted so flippin’ good but I felt as though I was busting at the seems. I remember telling everyone I needed to lay down to digest and slumped over in the booth. I have no idea how the boys pack it away.

Just like every trip I take, I find at least one worthy spot for a #LiveLikeBrent sticker. I think that most people would agree that Dinosaur was more than worthy. I spoke to the bartender and gave her the revised version as to why I was there and why I wanted this sticker in their establishment. She gave her condolences but was super touched to hear what I was doing to honor Brent. So if you ever find yourself at the bar of Dinosaur Barbeque in Syracuse a sticker for Brent is there just to the right of the tap system on the back ledge of the bar.

We made our way back to the house to try and digest for a bit.The boys relaxed in the basement (which is massive by the way) and watched some of the Sunday football games. Amanda, Bear and I got in the car and went to Green Lakes State Park for a walk. It was a pretty drive and as you enter the park you also pass through what looked like a nice golf course. We parked the car and started to walk. Turns out the lakes are actually green. The two glacial lakes in the park lie at the base of a gorge. I learned that they are rare meromictic lakes meaning their layers within the water never physically mix. We walked a bit over a mile which made me feel better about the amount of food I had recently inhaled. As we walked we talked about losing Brent, when Amanda lost her father and how the boys have been back in Philadelphia. Ps. Philly Friends - This is the part where I tell you she misses you all and Drew wants me to tell everyone Syracuse isn’t that far...so you all need to visit them.

When we got back, the boys were snoozing in front of the television. Then Brendan showed up in the kitchen and made some coffees. Drew and Amanda’s home is decorated with flea market finds, family heirlooms and pieces they have found along the way. It’s got this farm house vibe but nothing that seems like you can just go and pick-up from the home decor section at Target. (P.S. - There is NOTHING wrong with Target, by the way. I basically live there myself.) But I started asking about an antique cabbage slicer Amanda had hanging above the kitchen sink. I didn’t know what it actually was until she told me but see them all of the time now when out at antique shops. It turns out it belonged to her grandfather back in the day. They also have a couple of letter trays on the walls that hold little knick knacks. I think at their previous apartment they held stones as well. As I was asking about items around the house, Amanda pulled out a stoneware crock which held kitchen tools...and some actual tools. I didn’t realize it until Brendan started asking about the crocks but there are several around their home. Some for decor and others serving a purpose. They were really cool and completely Amanda’s style. Amanda also collects retro kitchen tools with the green handles. She actually just bought the one dead center in the photo on the counter at the market earlier that day. I think we decided it was a pastry/cookie cutter that you roll along dough. It had the shapes of suits in a deck of cards: heart, diamond, club, and spade. It was kinda neat. Amanda pulled out almost every tool and told us about them. She likes the way they look mainly but said when she’s out at the market a lot of people will try to paint the handles green to make them look like antiques and she tried to avoid the replicas.

We finished up our coffee and played with Bear one more time before packing up. Drew woke up from his slumber but claimed he was awake the entire time. We said our goodbyes, packed up the car and made our way back south.This is the part where I remind everyone that even though Amanda and Drew have a little one due literally any day now...they still welcome visitors. This is also the part where I tell you Brent told me Amanda and Drew are having a boy (even though they don’t know the gender of the baby). Maybe Brent was having a “chemo brain” moment when he told me confidently that it’s a boy or maybe he just knew or maybe it’ll just be a coincidence. Or maybe...they’ll just have a little baby girl. Either way, I’m excited to see the little bundle of joy the next time I go to visit them upstate. Thank you so much for having us for the weekend, Drew and Amanda. We love you, Bear and the little one on the way!

#LiveLikeBrent #Syracuse #New York #Adirondack Mountains #Adirondacks #Hiking #Camping #Seneca Street Brew Pub #IronWood Pizza #Manlius #CNY Regional Market #Dinosaur Barbque #Dino BBQ

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smoldinopup · 7 years

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Jonghyun - The Letter - 2017.06.14 - Fan account

Epic Fan Account of Doom…or Fluffiness (but that sounds less cool)

People who follow my blog attentively might know that I flew to Seoul on Monday to see Jonghyun in concert on June 14, because I only mentioned it like 14142112313 times on here. This trip went as smoothly as room tempered butter on a piece of toast. Pics and a video of my trip and some fun facts can soon be found on my travel blog, but no one cares about that now, right?

Let’s get to the actual content of this post *whips out her non-existent kazoo to play a song*

@krge @gone-with-the-bling, because you two wanted to read it! ^^

I went to SM Town at noon to buy some merchandise. I had typed down everything I wanted on my phone to make things easier for me as well as the staff working at the merchandise stand. When I arrived shortly before 12 around 30 people were already waiting in line (or more like sitting on the floor). Luckily they played Jonghyun and SHINee videos throughout the waiting time on some huge screen, so the time until 1pm passed really quickly.

It was my turn after only 10 minutes, but by then the kazoo was already sold out, which still shocks me. Not every person in front of me bought one so I’m still wondering how many SM actually sold? 15? I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that they only sold a handful of kazoos. I already read several fan accounts that they were quite short on some of the merchandise in general, but I thought it would get better in week four. Apparently not…I’m still meeh about it, because the kazoo was the one thing I looked forward to the most. Anyway, I got my merchandise (I went a little wild *coughs*. Random side note, the T-shirt is such good quality! I’m in awe and will never take it off again! Especially compared to those flimsy T-Shirts with that ridiculous sizing they had for the FIVE tour in Japan, Jonghyun’s T-shirt can only win.)

Left side: Jonghyun’s T-shirt (free size) Right side: SHINee’s FIVE T-shirt (size S). The thing with the FIVE T-shirts, before you wash them the print looks beautiful because it’s holographic. After washing it this effect is gone. The material is also much thinner than the one they used for the Jonghyun T-shirt, and the sizing was ridiculous. Those T-shirts were super short as you can see in the photo, but super wide (it’s like a crop trop in a way) I don’t even know how Minho wore that T-shirt with his long upper body. Jonghyun’s T-shirt on the other hand... I mean you want to wrap yourself up in it and pull it down to your knees (which I can’t, because I’m too tall, but smaller people can wear it as a dress, which is adorable). They were produced in different countries, which might be a reason for the difference in quality. I don’t know, but SM please produce your Japanese tour shirts somewhere else in future!

After taking photos with the shining babes at the photo booths (SM ships 2min and Jongkey…just saying) I went back to the SM merchandise shop to buy some more SHINee merchandise and then did some sightseeing around Seoul before coming back at 7pm for the actual concert that started at 8pm.

I sat in the left block in the third row, which was amazing, and I wish I had been able to stenograph during this whole concert to capture all the details as soon as they happened like

But yeah, that didn’t happen. So please bear with me, I try to write it down as accurately as I can remember it, but like I already mentioned in my ‘fan accounts’ for the SHINee concerts I’m only human (an old one on top of that) and I can’t possibly remember everything (even if it breaks my heart). So please be aware that the following passages will be filled with a lot of cringe worthy love that I feel for this adorable human being.

You have been warned!

So, grab a snack, make yourself comfortable and enjoy the ride. I should just write this like a fan fiction…lmao (maybe not)

The opening VCR was him riding in a car and then walking along the beach. The presentation of the video was so nicely done, because they switched screens from left, to middle, to right as Jonghyun walked along the beach, so the audience basically followed him in his steps. He also looked astonishingly beautiful in that VCR, but let’s be real…when doesn’t he look astonishingly beautiful. The VCR was shot together with the video to ‘Lonely’, because the beach and the outfit he wore were the same as in the music video.

We stood up for the opening songs, which is always nice of course, but also made me very uncomfortable, because I was a head taller than anyone else in my block, and I constantly worried that people behind me might not be able to see the stage that well. Sorry people who sat behind me, I can’t do anything about my height T_T. Like I mentioned above I was sitting in row three, but I forgot my glasses at the hostel and therefore Jonghyun was still a little fuzzy around the edges, and I naturally tilted my head to look at the screen from time to time (force of habit…which I acquired during the Japanese concerts).

Jonghyun wore a white T-shirt instead of the red one for the opening stage. Something like one, two, three Seoul Youth was written on it. But I’m not completely sure if that’s completely accurate, so don’t nail me down on it.

Just like the red T-Shirt he sleeves of the white one had been generously cut off. However, I sat on the wrong side and only caught a glimpse of the tattoo on his ribs. Pity! But better than the T-shirt were those jeans! His jeans were torn in all the right places and whenever his legs moved one could see the muscles nicely contract in his thighs (is that too detailed, I wonder?) Anyway, I can attest that the boy got some booty and thighs now (@every-person-who-has-an-url-talking-about-jjongs-non-existent-butt-might-consider-an-url-change). I have to admit that I spent the majority of the first three songs with looking at his thighs and butt. I’m sorry, Jonghyun. Please forgive me my rudeness! I’m just not used to seeing you having an actual booty.

There were dancers accompanying Jonghyun for a lot of the songs again. Though, while I thought they are a nice touch during the X-Inspiration concert, they often felt like too much for this concert series, and to me it didn’t feel like they added much to the performances. But that’s just my opinion, and I’m sure others loved the dancers. As I mentioned in my “I’m screaming into the void, but I have to scream anyway post” right after the concert, Jonghyun came to the left side of the stage in the beginning of ‘White T-Shirt’ and pointed into my direction while saying ‘You’re so rock n roll’. He could have also pointed at all of us, but let me have this one little moment of fangirl love and let’s all assume he did point at me, because I stood out the most in a lot of ways, and yes, I’m more rock n roll than even Mr. Kim will probably ever be, so it would have been very fitting. (ﾉ≧∀≦)ﾉ lmao

So, that being said I was totally overwhelmed by all the fan chants. I mean sometimes I love doing them, but at other times it feels suffocating and too much, like I’m part of some Army? I have the Japanese SHINee fan chants down perfectly. You can wake me up in the middle of the night, play me a random Japanese SHINee song and I will do every fan chant perfectly (including synchronized fan light movements). I’m also quite confident in doing the Korean ones, but most of the Jonghyun ones just exhausted me. I can’t even remember if we did all of them in December? December is still such a blur. It’s a pity that I didn’t write everything down back then, because my brain is weak and so was my heart. Anyway, it took me a few songs to get into the right fan chant groove.

When the VCR to Rewind played I was shocked to hear Jonghyun speak German. I was like O.O ??? What is this foreign but familiar sounding language doing here? Is he Lady Gaga? There was Spanish, and Japanese as well…I wonder how he came up with using German and Spanish from all existing languages. Did he open Google and ask ‘How to count in different languages’ and he thought those are the fancy sounding ones? Or did Jonghyun think ‘Roo’s ancestors were German, so let’s go with some Rammstein vibes’. Either way I’m still not over it. Kim Autobahn you can speak random German words to me all day. The video was just like the song title… very repetitive. Jonghyun did the same things again and again. But I believe by now most have seen the snippet of the VCR that was posted a while ago.

I have to admit that I was a little disappointed in ‘Suit Up’. It is one of my favorite songs on the album. The band was way too loud and overpowered the softness of Jonghyun’s voice while singing the beginning of this song. The audio technicians should have changed the volume of the microphone or something since it’s never a good thing if the band is louder than the singer. As of the performance of the song, Jonghyun was rolled inside on some arm chair by some pretty female dancers who tried to ‘seduce him?’ I’m not sure, but they also stripped him off his purple jacket and his tie later into the performance, so I guess we can call it the art of seducing Kim Jonghyun. But like I’ve mentioned earlier while I loved the dancers during the concert in December, I felt like they didn’t fit the mood for the letter series, but do you do Jonghyun or SM, whoever decided that it’s a good idea to include dancers. He wore a purple suit during this segment by the way. There was a fan account that stated that he looked slimmer, because the pants fitted looser around his thighs than they had done before. I agree with that account since the pants indeed were a little looser, but I’m not sure this had anything to do with weight loss. Is it possible to lose so much weight around one’s thighs in a mere week? I don’t know. I don’t know. It also doesn’t matter…he looks beautiful no matter the shape or size! So, let’s move on.

‘Staring into Space’ was absolutely adorable, but I didn’t expect anything else, just watching him put on the robe and the little bed cap made everyone in the audience squeal in delight and him smile shyly in return. He knows he looks adorable in that outfit, but he still always acts surprised when the audience is more excited about him dressing up in cutesy outfits than seeing him undress himself. Anyway, the props for this performance stood on the left side of the stage. Some boxes, some lights, something he could sit/lie on. I’m not sure what it was exactly, something like a bench covered in pillows and a blanket? At first he only sat on it while singing, and I was already like…boooohh everyone said how adorable you get during this performance, don’t disappoint me now! As if he had heard my thoughts he lay down with that little dog plushie (that wore some polka dotted hoodie) and pulled down the sleeping mask, and then playfully tugged the mask down on one side so only one eye peeked out. You can imagine the squeals coming from all sides. He continued with pulling the other side down as well so his nose and his mouth were basically covered by the sleeping mask. It looked adorable. He’s such an adorable human being and he’s very aware of that. After the performance ended he got up to take the robe off and he was quite amused by the disappointed reaction of the audience, because everyone wanted to see him continuing the concert in that outfit. It’s definitely a look! Next SHINee comeback should include sleeping masks and robes.

For ‘Blinking Game’ some fancy looking lights were lowered onto the stage behind Jonghyun, and the scenery gave off the atmosphere of some fancy jazz club, and one only waited for a contrabass to start playing.

We used the hand bells for ‘Gloomy Clock’, and Jonghyun had a lot of fun altering the rhythm randomly to confuse the audience. Sometimes he really does act like a little kid, having the most fun by bringing mischief to the stage. But it shows how much he enjoys performing, and seeing him have so much fun, makes one’s heart feel really warm and fuzzy.

I’m quite sad that the talk segments were basically me sitting around and having no idea what Jonghyun was talking about. That’s what I personally like about the Japanese concerts, because there I understand most of the things they say, which is quite nice. But yeah, it’s not their fault that I don’t speak Korean. Anyway, before the cockroach song he looked for a couple again (apparently there was none…or no one wanted to out themselves) so he picked out some girl who had been single for a very long time. I only understood a few words, and tried to figure out the content of their conversation by clutching onto every straw that was thrown, and after that one fan account I was surprised to realize that I wasn’t that off with my speculations. It was really fun listening to their conversation, because that girl was very fierce (I loved her since she was not shy to voice her opinion) and ranted so much that she apologized several times when Jonghyun got all ㅎㅅㅎ--- O_O--- :’D and wondered why she sounded like she was mad at him. It was adorable. She mentioned Minho at some point, but I’m not sure what she said. Did she refer to him as her ideal type? I don’t know.

The cockroach song was awesome live, and the animation of the cockroaches were so adorable! Especially when one cockroach was sitting on Jonghyun’s head. He got all embarrassed when he saw himself on the screen with that cockroach head on his, and started laughing. Speaking of little, embarrassed Jonghyun. He also got very shy when all the fans excitedly waved their fan lights around when he sung the now infamous lyrics of ‘Where are you?” You know the drill. It was amusing. But what else did he expect the reaction of fans to be when he wrote those lyrics? Probably no one is going to look at him in disgust when he sings ‘Where is the person who is going to kiss me?’ Are there any fan accounts about what Minho did during this part when he attended the concert yesterday? I expect Choi to jump up from his seat and point at himself!

The second girl he talked to was one of the people who sent in letters. I have absolutely no idea what the conversation was about, but she was very shy and said annyeonghaseyo very, very awkwardly and shyly and also sounded slightly bored on top of it (an interesting mix), which Jonghyun apparently found quite amusing and mimicked the greeting in the same awkward manner and tone. We can conclude Jonghyun likes to play and tease the audience. In general I got the feeling that he really enjoys talking to the fans, listen to their stories, and give them advice. It felt like group therapy session with Doctor Kim. For the talk segments he walked around the stage and when reading the letters he sat in an arm chair in the middle of it. At some point he was wearing a huge white shirt with a wide collar and some pretty necklace. It was such a nice and dreamy outfit. Did I mention how beautiful his eye make-up was done? His eyes looked so pretty and shiny, and… *inserts all the hearts*.

The stages I feared the most were the ones starting off with ‘Let me out’. I really thought I would start crying him a river right then and there, but luckily that didn’t happen. The prop for this stage consisted of some cocoon looking 2m tall foldable wall that surrounded him, and he wore all black with a black corsage like binder around his waist. Let me tell you that corsage did things to his figure. I mean we all know he has a tiny waist, but that binder only emphasized that, which made his shoulders and arms look massive while it made his waist look even tinier. Especially when seen from the side with the light falling onto him he looked like some statute in a museum. I think this was my favorite outfit of the night, because he just looked very dark and mysterious, but also very soft and beautiful at the same time. This guy is just a contradiction, but what else is new.

Like some fan accounts already stated the performance to ‘Let me out’ is quite intense and Jonghyun puts his everything into it, but just like with ‘Suit up’ the band overpowered him during the quieter parts, which is a pity. I don’t know if this was a general problem and just no one mentioned it until now, because fans tend to throw all form of critic out of the window as soon as they are graced by his presence or if the concert I attended was an exception. Maybe they should have arranged those songs differently, because performing them live requires some special attention in my opinion so the haunting feeling of the music and lyrics get across to the audience. After ‘Let me out’ Jonghyun pushed the cocoon open and continued with ‘Elevator’, one of my all-time favorite Jonghyun songs. It was very powerful and I sat in the audience with goosebumps.

The duets between Jonghyun and Shawols were beautiful. He should consider recording a song with a bunch of Shawols as duet partners in future. I especially liked the Shawol duet to ‘Love belt’, because it makes it easier to yell ‘I NEED YOU. I LOVE YOU…HOLD ME’ at Jonghyun without seeming like a crazy person. (/・・)ノ

The VCR before the encore seems to change every so often and while it was a rice brand Jonghyun advertised last week, he did some advertising for a drink this week. He tried to act as if he was seducing that bottle in his hand, and ran it along his face and so on. It looked hilarious. I laughed so hard. I live for funny VCRs. After the video ended everyone’s head suddenly turned to the entrance of the theater, and I was like ‘What is going on? Why is everyone turning their head around?’ I figured out why around ten seconds later when Jonghyun came down the aisle on the left side for ‘Deja Boo’ and everyone started screaming. Holy guacamole I wasn’t ready for seeing Jonghyun that close. I thanked all existing Gods on this planet that I sat in the left block so he passed me only a few feet away and came to a halt right in front of my block. HE’S SO TINY!!!! *USES ALL CAPSLOCK IN THE EXISTENCE OF CAPSLOCK* AND SO BEAUTIFUL!!!! Wow, I was so dumbfounded that I just stared at him like the weak fangirl I am. How do people survive fan signs? I mean yes, he’s just a normal human being, no need to put him on any pedestals (that’s 100% correct) but holy daisy…if he isn’t one of the most beautiful human beings I was able to lay my eyes on. His skin was glowing! If it had been me standing right in front of him in that first row I probably would have gaped at him without feeling any shame. He has just a very engaging aura. I mean it is one thing to see him up close on stage, but when he’s literally on eyelevel with you…oh my oh my…how do people manage to act all normal around him? Are they dying on the inside from all the tiny firework explosions and fan feels? Tell me your secrets survivors of the US fan meets!

Random anecdote: 10 years ago I met my back then favorite guitar player during a meet and greet and expected to die right then and there. However, I didn’t die and I carried a table with him instead and told him how tiny he is, which resulted in the singer laughing and saying ‘Well, what a nice compliment!’ Me being as smooth as a spiky cactus. So thinking about this fan girl episode of mine I probably would say something stupid instead of dying inside. But I matured, I wouldn’t call Jonghyun tiny to his face. I learned from this embarrassing episode that still haunts me at night sometimes.

The concert ended with ‘Fortune Cookie’ and ‘Beautiful tonight’. As always Jonghyun directed the audience during ‘Beautiful tonight’ and I looked at every kazoo around me in envy. I wanted to become a kazoo kid. I will forever be bitter about this. But I might just buy one from ebay and start my kazoo career anyway. No need for Jonghyun’s concert logo on this genius music instrument. I loved how he cherished every single person in the band accompanying him, and jammed along to every instrument. He played air bass guitar, it was so adorable and cute and I just wanted to pinch his cheeks and pat his head.

The ending of a concert always makes me feel very empty and this time was no different. As soon as Jonghyun left the stage I felt a wave of ‘So this was it. The final goodbye’. It’s always the worst part of a concert, because you just don’t want it to be over yet. The concert was a little over 2 hours, I believe, and everyone stormed out of the concert hall to wave Jonghyun goodbye at SM Town’s side entrance. When I arrived at SM Town that day I tried to figure out where all those ‘Arrival’ and ‘Departure’ photos had been taken, but I didn’t have to look long for it, because the entrance is right next to the actual entrance of SM Town. So, I followed the crowd and waited behind a barrier. I think at least half of the audience waited for him there, and most of them had their phones and cameras ready, already filming the door. Some of the girls even had little stools they could stand on so they could see the entrance better. He exited the building shortly after, waved into the crowd like usual and then disappeared into the waiting car. Nothing too dramatic…

It was a beautiful concert; very cozy and somehow very intimate. I for one belong to the group of people who prefer small venues, and I never understand why some fans have it as a goal to attend a Tokyo Dome concert at least once in their lives. I mean you do you, but it sounds more fun than it actually is. I already disliked the size of Saitama Super Arena with a little over 30.000 seats and I don’t want to imagine how a hall filled with over 50.000 must feel like. Yes, the ocean might look beautiful with 50.000, but it already looks beautiful with 500, so I don’t know what the big deal is…especially if you happen to only get a ticket on the fourth/fifth floor. But to each their own I guess. One needs to have a goal in life after all, and if it’s attending a SHINee concert, then that’s a really good one! So, you go Shawols! ^^

I should end this here, but I want to add a last note on the global packages. Last year I got a global package for the first X-Inspiration concert, because a) I didn’t know better b) his first concert was on my birthday and therefore I wanted to go there whatever the cost. As most of you know the global packages are very pricy to begin with, but in the case of the X-Inspiration concerts they also offered a lot in return, and you could choose the price category of the hotel. So after calculating everything, I thought, well the price is not too bad, and I still don’t regret buying that package, because it was a wonderful experience that I treasure a lot. However, this time the prices for the global packages were even higher, you couldn’t choose the price category, and they offered nothing at all except for the goodies. All I thought was ‘SM, what are you doing???’ This being said, if you have the money, just go for it, but if you are on a budget you might want to look around a little. There are trustworthy Korean sites which people use to resell their tickets and if you are lucky enough you might find a ticket to a reasonable price. The one I found was only 40$ more than the original price and was a seat in the third row, so I’m not complaining.

So, in conclusion: Did I have fun at the concert? Yes, I did! Was it enjoyable? Yes, definitely. Would I do it again? Oh yeah, anytime. There is just something about Jonghyun or SHINee as a whole group that makes me incredibly happy, and I’m very thankful that they never fail to put a smile onto my face. ♡

Thank you! (♡＾▽＾♡)

#kim jonghyun #jonghyun #SHINee #dü speaks #the agit #SHINee adventures in Japan

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queen-of-deans-booty · 7 years

Text

You Looking for a Puppy or a Date?

Characters: Sam x Reader,

Word Count: 1,898

Warnings: None, this is all fluff honestly.

Summary: You own your own rescue shelter for animals. One day, you get a very tall and very handsome man looking to adopt.

Author’s Note: This idea was given to me from the lovely @cas-is-my-hero. Thank you so much for bringing ideas for baby moose Sammy. If you want to be tagged, leave an ask or message and I’ll add you! Same goes for my Series Rewrite! If you want to request a fic, please send them in! I love writing what you guys want!

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

All your life, you wanted to find your purpose. Growing up, you rarely ever fit in and the things your parents wanted you to do, you hated. Play the violin, they say. Learn to excel in math, they say. Why aren’t you more like your brothers, they asked. It was always something and you were sick and tired of being compared to your older brothers.

It was their fault they were very talented and smart. It wasn’t their fault that your parents liked them a hell of a lot better than you. You just wanted to be able to fit in somewhere and prove to your parents that you can do something you love and still live a successful life.

You found that in animals. It all started when you first moved out. Not a lot of the apartment complexes were being rented so only a handful of people were already there. The apartment above you was empty and so was the bottom. However, the bottom apartment, the folks moved out of for some reason.

What they left behind, broke your heart.

You would hear their tiny cry whenever you passed their door. You would hear their tiny cry at night, begging for their parents to come back home. It was when you decided that you had enough and went to the apartment.

You found two dogs, a Pit bull and a Shepard mix, who have been abandoned by their owners for some odd reason. It broke your heart to hear their cries and to see their sad faces. However, when they saw you, they were beyond happy and jumped all over you.

You had to keep them.

You knew the owners weren’t coming back for them.

That is when you realized that adopting abused or abandoned animals is your purpose. You loved all kinds of animals and you could never have enough animals. So, you took care and loved your new family members for a year before wanting to start your own business.

You met a few people over the years that were interested in the things you were and were happy to be a part of something special. It took a lot of hard work but you made it. You now have 5 adopted dogs and you now own your own rescue shelter.

You get a lot of people coming by, wanting to adopt animals that you either find that are injured, alone, or abused or animals that people gave to you because they simply couldn’t take care of them anymore. This is what made you happy and your parents were very proud of you.

You turned something you loved into a career. You couldn’t ask for more than this. You lived in a small town in Kansas so you knew everybody that came into your shelter.

Until today.

You were sitting at the front desk, watching some puppies play in a pen you set up while you did some paperwork. You heard the bell ring, signaling someone has entered your shop. The puppies started barking at the stranger, eager for someone to pet them.

“Hi, how can I help you?” You looked up and your mouth suddenly became dry. A man, easily 6’4, with long chestnut hair and sparkling hazel eyes approached the desk. God, when he smiled, it was the most beautiful smile ever imagined. He had a light spray of freckles that littered his cheeks and that jaw, man, it was sharp. His lips were thin and pink but they looked so soft and kissable.

“Ma’am?” You blinked, seemingly lost in thought.

“Yes, sorry, I spaced out there for a second.” You blushed, biting your lip.

“No, it happens. I just asked if you had a certain kind of dog here.” Man, his voice was so deep, it sent chills through your body.

“Did you lose your pet?” You asked, getting out the lost and found book. You cataloged every dog that you knew belonged to someone but was just lost.

“No, I want to adopt.” He smiled.

“Sorry, we just don’t give out dogs that you want. What we do, is get to know the person so we can give them a dog that would be best for them. I know and love each dog that I find so I am sure, whoever you end up with, you will adore.” You said, smiling.

“That actually sounds awesome. How long does this process usually take?”

“At most, an hour or so. Not that long. I want to make sure that every animal is going to a good home.”

“I actually have to be at work soon so I’ll drop off after work. Does that sound okay?” He asked, looking at the time.

“Yeah sure, we close at 5 on the weekends.”

“I get off at 3 today. Will you be here at 3?” He wondered, giving you a flirty smile.

“I will be.” You flirted back, leaning a bit closer to him.

“Good, then I definitely won’t be late. My name is Sam Winchester.” He said, holding out his hand. Holy mother of God, that hand is huge. Damn, he was gorgeous.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” You shook his head, loving the sense of warmth and security you felt. He let go of your hand and waved before leaving your shelter. You only just met the man but damn, you wanted to see him again.

You usually knew everyone who came into your shop but Sam was different. He didn’t look familiar or even sound familiar. You wondered if he lived in Kansas or if he was just visiting. Well, you’ll find out soon enough.

Ding!

“Hi, how can I… Oh, hi Sam. Welcome back.” You glanced up and smiled when you saw the 6’4 hunk of meat.

“I am off work so I am all yours.” Sam smiled, his dimples prominent.

“Awesome! If you want, you can play with some of our puppies. Our only German Sheppard had puppies so we’re helping her out right now.” You said, standing up and leading Sam into a back room. Your business partner and roommate was out for the day so it was only you running the whole shelter.

“That would be awesome.”

“Okay, just hang tight and I’ll bring some in.” You walked off, going to the back room where the mother and her puppies were. You refrained from naming the dogs because that way, you’ll get attached and you wouldn’t have a business anymore if you kept them all.

“Hi, baby. A nice man wants to play with some of your puppies. You don’t mind, right?” You asked the mom, petting her ears and neck. She licked your hand and didn’t seem to care too much. All the sheltered animals loved you and trusted you.

You grabbed two puppies and gently held them as you walked back to the room.

“Alright, they don’t have names because if they did, they wouldn’t be here. They would be at my house.” You joked, handing Sam the puppies. They barked and seemed to like the giant man. You closed the door and sat across from him, looking at the papers with the questions you asked everyone.

“Alright, I already know your name… Do you live in Kansas?” You looked at him to see him smiling at the puppies.

“I do. I live in Lebanon.” He said, looking at you.

“Really? How come I’ve never seen you? I know everyone in this town.” You asked, curious.

“I don’t really go out much. My brother and I, we are very busy and always traveling across the States.”

“So, you’ll be able to care for an animal if you’re traveling so much?” You asked, wondering if an animal would be right for him.

“Oh! Sorry, that is what my brother and I did. He’s… gone now so I’m always home by myself. It gets lonely.” Sam said, shrugging softly. The puppies were now playing on the floor, barking and chasing one another.

“Where is your brother?” You asked, oblivious to his body language.

“He died last year.” Sam said softly, looking down at the table.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I was being nosy and insensitive. I’m sorry.” You sighed, mentally slapping yourself.

“No, it’s okay. The more I talk about it, the easier it becomes.” Sam smiled, nodding.

“Right, well, what do you do for a living?” You wrote down his information for the previous question.

“I do odd jobs around the state and the states near us. I’m not gone longer than a few days.”

“Okay, what are your hobbies?” You looked into his eyes.

“Are you sure this is for the adoption or do you just really want to get to know me?” He asked, smirking a little. You laughed, blushing at his flirtatious tone.

“No, Sam, this is for the adoption. But hey, getting to know you would just be a plus.” You smiled at him, biting your lip.

“Okay then, my hobbies include reading, jogging and going out for runs, working out…” He started listing off his hobbies.

Yeah, I bet he works out. Damn, that body is amazing.

“What?” Sam said, looking at you. Your eyes widened and you looked at him.

“What?”

“Did you just say I have an amazing body?” He asked, the corners of his lips lifting. Oh, God, you must have said out loud.

“Is that what you heard? Because maybe you’re hearing things.” You asked, trying to find a way out of this one.

“I definitely heard that. I have exceptional hearing.” Sam grinned, showing off his beautiful dimples.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out.” You blushed heavily, looking away from him. You felt two fingers lift your chin and you met sparkling hazel eyes.

“Don’t be sorry. I was thinking the same thing about you. Do you work out?” He asked, never losing his smile.

“Everyday. It’s relaxing and I can run with my dogs. It’s a win-win.” You chuckled nervously.

“How about tomorrow, say around 7 am, you come by my place and we can run together?” He wondered, raising one eyebrow.

“Mr. Winchester, are you here to ask me out on a date or adopt a dog?” You smiled and seemed to find yourself leaning closer to him.

“Depends, what’s your answer?”

“Depends, which question do you want answered?” You smirked, enjoying the flirty banter between you two. It’s been a while when you let yourself be happy. It was always about the animals. You never had time to go out and meet guys. But this one just walked right into your life.

“Can I adopt a dog?” He asked, never letting go of your chin.

“Of course you can. I would be disappointed if you didn’t.” You didn’t even notice the two puppies staring at the two of you.

“Can I take you out on a date?” He asked, leaning closer to you. Now, your lips were almost touching and you resisted just pushing yours onto his.

“Let’s just see how well the running goes.” You whispered, pulling away from him. You got everything you needed. You knew just the dog that would be perfect for him. You smirked and walked out of room, knowing what you were doing to him.

You could tell, right from the beginning, this was going to turn into something special.

Masterlist // Buy me a Coffee? // Series Rewrite Masterlist

Forever tags:

@deans-short-girl @maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith @mogaruke @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @whit85-blog @inlovewithbja

Sam tags:

@kdfrqqg

Other tags:

@jensen-jarpad @notnaturalanahi @deathtonormalcy56 @27bmm

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positivelyamazonian · 7 years

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Microreview Round Seven: BOOKSHELVES

This round is open to interpretation, so don’t let the word bookshelves stop you. Whether your collection is big or small, physical or digital, your parents’ or from the library, it counts as a bookshelf here. To play: answer the prompts and tag your friends to do the same. Optional: use #microreview and check out @microreviews for “rules,” reviews, and more!

I was tagged by my dearest @luluvonv and... how could I not do this? I’m a bookworm through and through. I’ve always dreamed of having a big, wide library for all my books, plenty of bookshelves, and with appropiate conditions - that means, in glass cases because I’m allergic to dust - and I finally achieved it! Right now many shelves are still empty because I expect to fill them throughout my life... but the space is prepared! Let’s do this!

What genres or types of books dominate your shelf?

Mostly related with two - rather three - themes: History, Art, and religion. The two first because I’m a bitch for History and Art being myself a History teacher, so I love having a History-Art related books - that means, no historic novels, but actual History and Art books.

The religion ones - not just my own religion, the Catholic Roman Christianism, but also many others - are related with a main field of self-research I’ve been conducting for years. I’m a Christian believer but also a feminist - I can’t start explaining how hard is to live like this among this community - so my personal research dwells among the strongest and most inspirational women of my religion: the female martyrs. That’s why I buy, collect and search with passion everything related with this heroines, from holycards to postcards, to books, to photos and travelling to the places where their remains rest, if they still exist.

Hell, I even rule a blog where together with other friends I used to write and share articles by myself about these women. In fact I still own some copies of a compendium which was kindly edited by a friend of mine, an Orthodox Romanian priest who had the gentleness to include my articles in his personal publication - I’m noted inside the book, btw. I can say it’s kind of, my second publication after Irene, my first novel.

One of my latest purchases in this matter is a double-volume in Greek and Spanish from the Life and Miracles of Saint Thecla, an early female preacher known as the Protomartyr of Women because she was the first known Christian woman to be killed for her faith, but also the first one known for being a public preacher, disciple and equal to the apostles. I was happy I got this ancient text (II century) also in the original Greek, since it’s been a while since I practiced my Ancient Greek skills.

I also got a big, complete book about St Lucy of Syracuse in my last trip to Venice. It’s my hope that people who reads this know that these are not just pious and devotional but also historical, artistic and archaeological books: I try to find the woman behind the myth. These women existed, they were real, and it’s my hope to write, some day, a book about them, so that believers and non-believers can realize they are far more than just beautiful statues in churches.

Anyway, apart of these related issues, I own a lot of historical novels from my young times before going to the university, when I thought History was something else. Now I mostly dislike them, they are just entertainment and if I read them it’s just for fun, like the amazing Pope Joan I’m reading from Donna W. Cross, a fantastic, well-researched novel... but a novel, after all. Just like any other historical novel. They are not real History. One must seek harder if they want to learn actual History... and study, of course.

Ah, yes. I not only own oddities and weird books. I also own a lot of epic fantasy novels, which are my personal fun and enjoyment, and also a lot of Spanish and Catalan literature.

What do you wish you had more of?

I wish I had more ancient texts and good editions of the basic enciclopaedias and compendia I need for my researches. But they are either too expensive or written in languages I don’t know, like German or Arab. I learned Italian to have access to good stuff and I’m satisfied with my progress as I’m a self-learner, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to read in German or Arab. And this is my great frustration.

I wish I could afford also many facsimiles of Middle-Ages books with all their illuminations, but they are terribly expensive too, despite being copies - the originals are kept in monasteries/museums, as it must be -. Fortunately my deceased father-in-law enjoyed to collect some of them and could afford them, so I’ve inherited many from him.

I wish, also, I could have my favest books in their original languages and not just Spanish, like The Lord of The Rings by Tolkien. This is more affordable and possible, so I don’t discard I’ll be doing myself and original-written-language-books shelf one of these days :D

And of course, more books about Art. You’ve never enough books of Art, believe me. You can claim you know a lot about Art and own lots of books and visit lots of museums but I can tell, you still don’t know shit about Art.

Smallest book?

I have a little selection of the main books of several religions, namely the Bible for Christianism, Torah for Judaism, Al-Quhran for Islam, Tao Teh Ching for Taoism, Bhagavad Gita for Hinduism, and others. The sacred books are not whole, complete editions but most of the text is included. I purchased them because I’m a sentimental and also, they are cute as a button. They even have their own mini-shelf :D

And yes, they are just inches and can rest in the top of my fingertip - no way I could do this while taking a photo with my cell -. That’s why I’ve never actually read them - I’d destroy them!!! The only ones I haven’t read, I must confess, and I will never read... but I have larger versions of these too, so no problem :)

Largest book?

A perfect facsimil of the Martyrologium Romanum of Don Pedro de Aragón, a Middle-Ages big illuminated manuscript which depicts the feasts of each Saint of the day and scenes of their lives/martyrdoms. This one is so big and heavy I need another person to help me to carry it.

Of course, it’s not literally mine because I could never afford such jewel, I inherited it from my father-in-law after he died. Now I keep it this way, open as to enjoy the illuminations as if it was in its original context, a monastery’s scriptorium.

There are other facsimiles I virtually own but I am still to decide how to display them on my bookshelves, including a big, original Bible engraved by the always amazing engraver Gustave Doré, unfortunately very damaged by moisture. Some of them are too big, some of them are smaller, I just need to study them and figure how to place them correctly in the glass cases so they can shine open. There’s no point in owning an illuminated facsimil if you can’t enjoy the illuminations on a daily basis :)

And of course, I can read them too. Though I must confess my Latin is quite rusty right now...

Oldest book? Newest book?

Oldest:

A Rome travel guide from 1870, written by D. Severo Catalina. And I’m serious!! It smells of moisture and dust. It was given to me as a gift by an old aunt and you can read a lot of things about how Rome was in XIX century. In fact it describes many places and artworks and monuments that, after two World Wars, don’t exist anymore...

Also I used to own a Flos Sanctorum by P. Rybadeneira from 1619, but I had to return it to the person that give it to me because she regretted her decision (no comment). Fortunately, there’s plenty of access to this old text in Google Books. Anyway it’s not a really valuable text from a historiographic point of view, it’s just pious literature like the Legenda Aurea by Jacopo della Voragine.

Newest:

Santa Lucia a Venezia, by Giovanni Musolino.

As I said before, I just came back from Venice with a fantastic book about Saint Lucy of Syracuse, a IV century Sicilian martyr whose body is kept at her church of this city. I’m very pleased with this book because it contains the kind of information I need for my research: archaeology, history, paleography, historical proof, because God knows I had enough myths and legends and cute stories. No offense intended.

And yes, thank God I learnt to read in Italian. I won’t have a single chance of understand all this without it.

Does anything live there besides books?

In the bookshelves I’ve destined to epic fantasy and “nerd-related” novels and enciclopaedias I have my very recent TR collections of figurines... also in other I’ve some curious book-supporters related with Tolkien universe (Gollum, a replica of the Argonath, a replica of Minas Tirith) and other nice stuff, like the half-angel-half-demon from Angels & Demons movie.

Anyway, I’ve lots of books right now but I’ve only reviewed the most I have. I love the classics of Spanish and Catalan literature and I own copies of them, from Rimas y Leyendas by Bécquer to Cien Años de Soledad by García Márquez; from Tirant Lo Blanc by Joanot Martorell to La Plaça del Diamant by Mercè Rodoreda. And God, some Arab classics by Naguib Mahfuz, Amin Maalouf; and novelists I absolutely love like Isabel Allende or Amy Tan.

I must stop here. If anyone wants to know more about my book heaven they’re free to ask. Also I decide freely not to tag anyone, whoever sees this is encouraged to share its book heaven too. As for me, it’s not just the place of my pleasure but also the place where I work and where I’m just now sit typing. In fact, you don’t see my library in my TRAOD live streams because a big chroma is displayed behind my back when I stream, but if I lifted the canvas you could see perfectly it :D

Anyway, enough! Thanks for this little personal moment and let’s continue the fun!

#microreview

#bookshelves

#bookshelf

#personal

#book he

#my little piece of heaven #personal #meldelen #positively amazonian #not tr related #tags #tagged #microreview #bookshelves #bookshelf #book heaven

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latenightbotanist · 7 years

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I have feelings about the ode to joy and im going to dump them on you

At the time i am writing this part i have suffered through twenty two (22) hours of “ode to joy” repeated in my brains so you are gonna suffer with me now. Srsly, ask @madgronkish i kinda lost it around noon.. Anyways. First thought when i heard it was literally" theyre not going to fucking reunite them to THAT SONG??!?!“ Whilst i was wrong about sherlock driving the car…they still did that. Thanks mofftiss.

Ok now down to business. First off, DISCLAIMER, i am in no way qualified to do this? I dont know much about music and have like half an experience at writing meta? so..sorry in advance, maybe just look at this as inspiration and well..gay feelings bc i have enough of those to go around rn.

I will also tag some lovely people who actually know how to do this whole meta thing, and who knows, maybe one of you actually reads this mess and makes somethin out of it? Possibly? Idk, i dont blame you if you dont, really. @quietlyprim @loudest-subtext-in-tv @joolabee @hudders-and-hiddles @love-in-mind-palace @teapotsubtext @beejohnlocked @kinklock @marcelock @gaytectives @ormondsacker @culverton

So.. for all of you who dont know, ode to joy (originally “freude, schöner götterfunken”) is part of beethoven’s 9th symphony, it is the first ever symphony to incorporate voices, the lyrics mostly come from schillers “Ode an die Freude” and the melody itself has been the european anthem since 1972 (1985 if you insist on EU).

Ok so lets have a quick look at the lyrics(and i really mean quick, these are my notes from this morning, not exactly coherent but enough to get a general idea of my feelings about this, we’ll get into more detail later) i also put both the english and german version bc i felt at some points things got lost in translation, but honestly i dont know what to do about that so yeah, if you speak german, good for you, if not and by the end if this youre not bored to death and still have questions dont hesitate to ask i will awkwardly but gladly try to elaborate (this applies not only to lyrics btw)

O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!

 Sondern laßt uns angenehmere anstimmen,

 und freudenvollere.

Oh friends, not these sounds! 

Let us instead strike up more pleasing

 and more joyful ones!

(Literally lets have happier stories, also the score.. yes lets get the johnlock theme back,please)

Freude! Freude! / Joy! Joy!

Freude, schöner Götterfunken 

Tochter aus Elysium, 

Wir betreten feuertrunken,

 Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!

 Deine Zauber binden wieder 

Was die Mode streng geteilt; 

Alle Menschen werden Brüder, 

Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.

/ Joy, beautiful spark of divinity,

 Daughter from Elysium,

 We enter, burning with fervour, (Cant set the heart on fire if its

 heavenly being, your sanctuary! already burning w/ love, yall) 

Your magic brings together

 what custom has sternly divided. (Gayyyy!!!!!)

 All men shall become brothers, (Secret brothers,reunion…) 

wherever your gentle wings hover.

(Idk, mrs hudson is an angel?)

Wem der große Wurf gelungen,

 Eines Freundes Freund zu sein;

 Wer ein holdes Weib errungen,

 Mische seinen Jubel ein!

 Ja, wer auch nur eine Seele

 Sein nennt auf dem Erdenrund

! Und wer’s nie gekonnt, der stehle

 Weinend sich aus diesem Bund!

Whoever has been lucky enough. (Luckiest man in the world,

 to become a friend to a friend, my only friend, … )

Whoever has found a beloved wife,

 let him join our songs of praise! (Uh….how bout no?) 

Yes, and anyone who can call one soul 

his own on this earth! (My john…..) 

Any who cannot,

let them slink away from this gathering in tears! (Mary crying,then disappearing)

Freude trinken alle Wesen

 An den Brüsten der Natur;

 Alle Guten, alle Bösen

 Folgen ihrer Rosenspur

. Küsse gab sie uns und Reben,

 Einen Freund, geprüft im Tod;*

(Like.. sherlock died and  came back for john what more proof??)

Wollust ward dem Wurm gegeben,

 Und der Cherub steht vor Gott.

Every creature drinks in joy

 at nature’s breast;

 Good and Bad alike

 follow her trail of roses. (Good and bad, rosie, hmmmm) 

She gives us kisses and wine,

 a true friend, even in death; (Or only in death?hey mary)

 Even the worm was given desire, (Mycroft? Nah,probs moriarty)

 and the cherub stands before God. (Sherlock, my lil cherub)

Froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen

Durch des Himmels prächt'gen Plan,

(Plans…ominous)

 Laufet, Brüder, eure Bahn,

 Freudig, wie ein Held zum Siegen.

Gladly, just as His suns hurtle

 through the glorious universe,

 So you, brothers, should run your course, (the way it was always

 joyfully, like a conquering hero. meant to be…..)

Seid umschlungen, Millionen!

 Diesen Kuß der ganzen Welt! 

Brüder, über’m Sternenzelt 

Muß ein lieber Vater wohnen. 

Ihr stürzt nieder, Millionen? 

Ahnest du den Schöpfer, Welt?

 Such’ ihn über’m Sternenzelt!

 Über Sternen muß er wohnen.

Be embraced, you millions!

 This kiss is for the whole world! (,!!???? Like???????Yes pls) 

Brothers, above the canopy of stars 

must dwell a loving father. (Or two? Hey dads) 

Do you bow down before Him, you millions?

 Do you sense your Creator, o world? 

Seek Him above the canopy of stars! 

He must dwell beyond the stars.

Well that was……….. kinda gay. Yeah yeah i know its just a queer reading no i dont believe it was intended to be gay by either beethoven or schiller (or was it?? Irdk) but. in the context of the show. which is rather what were looking at. Pretty damn gay, right?

Ok lets have a look at my absolute favourite lines first:

Your magic brings together/what custom has sternly divided.

Well… i think we can all agree that society has, quite sternly indeed, divided holmes and watson, romantically. Homosexuality just simply wasnt a custom, or at least very frowned upon, mildly speaking. It is rather magical to watch this wrong being righted though, i should think. More specifically in bbc sherlock, the divide has come through a custom of not speaking to each other, and guess what?? Yeah hudders is friggin done with that bs these two are talking now!

And then…

Be embraced, you millions!/This kiss is for the whole world!

*shrieking* do i? Do i really need to talk about this? I think not. This just…. yeah. I mean really….. I would like to add at this point that, at least to my ears, embraced sounds like a rather tame option of translation. “Umschlungen”, to me personally conveys a certain vigour, almost as if the embrace might… idk.. come as a surprise to some extend? Take the air from some peoples lungs? Yeah dunno what that could be about……

If you still need more i guess i could just blubber some more about it all but tbh what is structure? so yeah, here we go, feel free to leave anytime i mean its already pretty gay and hurts my heart i wont blame you if you think

•WE ARE NOW ENTERING THE REALM OF JOY… yep thats happening things are getting happy, please, god, let them actually. And this joy that we will feel when John and Sherlock ( finally) get together will mend all the wrong thats been done to those two, and us Holmes fans, during all these years of being kept apart by society and norms and customs, homophobia and heteronormativity. Were entering a sanctuary, we are literally save here!

•General message of schiller’s ode to joy is literally that HUMAN CONNECTIONS ARE THE CROWN OF HUMAN EXPERIENCE like wow yes thank you it is as if human connections were the stuff that…completes you as a human being. Say what?

•Not only is this true for johnlock but also for our entire community, were bound together by the joy of this show, our joy will mend what heteronormativty destroyed, the joy of their kiss will unite us, we will embrace it and the joyfull gayness will embrace us!

•The fact that its literally such a groundbreaking piece of music. There have been symphonies over and over but this is new, this is different, he incorporated voices. Groundbreaking,earthshattering… u get it. Seriously if anyone who has even a slither of a clue about music wants to educate me on what the inclusion of voices could stand for please im begging enlighten me my brains too fried im already struggling to get this done(as you might be able to tell. I am so sorry)

And now, onto some more shit i stumbled upon in the original poem that, sadly, didnt make it into the song but:

•Have patience for a better world to come, god(mofftiss) is good and will give you what you deserve

•Forget hatred and revenge, forgive your (arch)enemy who shall not have to cry or be rueful (ahem mary. Also possibly mycroft to some extent who knows whats gonna happen)

•Bravery even in agony,help where innocence is weeping (hi john)

•Something about oaths and telling the truth to your friends as well as enemies and how lies will bring everything down……

•Narrowing the circle, making oaths with wine and staying faithful(keep believing!!)

•Salvation from tyranns, hope to the dying, mercy in council, forgiving of sins and ENDING HELL well ok then yes to all!

No honestly theres a lot and im horrifically underqualified and have a headache so i’ll stop now. If you actually read this whole mess of a thing.. thank you. Bless your soul. I’ll make you an origami elephant or something

#oh wow look #my first meta #contributing #sherlock #bbc sherlock #s4 #sherlock season 4 #sherlock s4 #tld #the lying detective #sherlock soundtrack #sherlock meta #ode to joy #meta #mine #textpost #my meta

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gendercraft · 3 years

Text

Outlast: Revisited [Chapter Six: Waylon]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: I’m rewriting Outlast where the first game and Whistleblower are combined, Miles and Waylon are more connected, and also they kiss

Trigger warnings: Sexual assault plus everything already in the game; eye gore; the gore actually gets kinda intense here; let me know if i missed anything

The furnace roared to life. Waylon scrambled backwards, as far away from the flame as possible, but it was futile. It caught his pants, chasing his leg.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He pressed his back against the brick wall.

Orange climbing up his pant sleeve, he thrashed his leg out, over and over again. The heat burned through. The pain wracked up his leg, rippling and angry. He screamed and knocked his head against the wall.

Something rattled. He gasped and turned around—the wall was crumbling. He could break that. He could.

Holding back a moan of pain, he turned onto all fours and rammed his shoulder into the wall. It jostled, but not by much. Again, again, come on, don’t let me fucking die here. The pain was climbing. If he didn’t get out of here soon, he wouldn’t even be able to walk.

He launched himself at the wall again, again, again, then finally—CRASH! He oofed as he smacked to the concrete, landing atop the loose bricks.

“No! NO! You were MINE!”

Gasping for breath, Waylon staggered to his feet. There was no telling how quickly the Cook could find his way to Waylon—he had to leave.

He hobbled through a door and found himself in a makeshift chapel. A glowing red exit sign hung above a door. His heart stopped. He raced forward, ignoring the burning pain in his leg, and turned the handle—locked. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He pulled and yanked but nothing.

Looking around for any way of escape, he brought his burnt leg off the ground to relieve the pressure. His breathing was slowly steadying.

In the back of the chapel, he found a transcription from an employee of Mount Massive, Dr. Bruce Newhouse.

Father Clarke—

Far be it from me to lie to a man of God, so let me at least say that I will do my personal best to improve the safety of your working conditions...if you feel threatened by anybody in particular, simply let us know and we can either increase chemical restraints, or administer a lobotomy or similar calming procedure.

Waylon grimaced and flinched.

Not all of our poor unfortunates have families to call upon, and so the burden, (and calling,) is yours. We are all of us relying on your faith and hard work.

DBNR

Dr. Newhouse, MD

May 20th, 1961

Surely they weren’t still administering lobotomies. And ‘poor unfortunates…’ it was so distant, so condescending. These weren’t ‘poor unfortunates.’ They were people, people that Murkoff decided to torture.

Everywhere else was a dead end, and there was a creeping feeling in his gut that the Cook was getting closer, so Waylon headed back to the furnace. There was a ladder to the top of the ovens, which opened up to a huge chimney full of half-put-together scaffolding and skinny ledges. It went up pretty high. He doubted the Cook would follow him, if he even knew that’s where he went.

On the ladder, he dragged his useless leg behind him, relying on upper body strength to get himself to flop atop the ovens. His arms burned, laying like jelly next to him. A scream rained down.

Waylon leapt to his feet, gritting his teeth and holding back a hiss. THWAP! Waylon covered his face as the Variant smacked to the brick and cracked their head open. Hesitating, Waylon stared. Blood seeped through the cracks, viscous and crimson.

Glancing down at his leg, he sighed. Don’t fail me.

He scaled the chimney slowly and carefully. As he inched across a ledge, his vision blurred as Morphogenic rorschach images swam and splattered. He groaned… and his foot slipped.

Gasping, his entire body jolted to the ground—then he caught himself, planting his foot firmly on the ledge.

“Motherfucker,” he snapped under his breath. He grit his teeth. “Come on, come on… just fucking do it.”

He made it halfway up the chimney, where a vent opened into one of the upper floors. Crawling inside and hopping down, he brought up his night vision and looked around carefully. He explored the Administrative section of the hospital block, all dark and empty.

Across a boarded up door and through the glass, a group of people ran past.

“There!” One of them cried. “I told you it would be open. I told you.”

Were they… escaping? Waylon would pry those boards off with his bare hands.

“Keep moving, Graham, we’re almost out!”

Waylon picked up the pace, limping towards the door and grabbing hold of the board. He pulled, planting his bad leg against the wall, and yanked, yanked, pulled, pulled, pulled until his hands were raw and scraped. He dug at the screws until his nails cracked and his fingers bled.

Growling, he slammed his elbow into the glass, over and over until tears came to his eyes. It ached horribly, and the glass didn’t so much as crack.

“Fuck!” His voice cracked. Sobs rose in his throat, and he swallowed them back. Don’t you dare fucking cry.

If he had to cry—which he didn’t—he could do it while he was moving. He had to get home. He had to expose Murkoff.

The only way further was through a small library, so he pressed on, only to freeze as a buzzsaw sounded.

“Dinner bells!” The cook cackled as he rounded the corner.

Waylon gasped and ducked behind a shelf just as the man entered the room. Shit. Could he still run? He’d been able to block out the pain in his leg, but if he so much as moved wrong, it was overwhelming. Black spots appeared on his vision and he had to grit his teeth to keep himself from crying. It was the worst pain he’d ever experienced.

He’d have to be quiet, and quick.

The Cook buzzed his saw a few times as he entered the room. Waylon gripped onto the shelf to keep himself upright. In the quiet tension, he couldn’t ignore the pain anymore. It ripped through his skin, pulsing and wet. God, was it blistering? He couldn’t bear to look at it.

“I can smell you,” the Cook sung through closed lips. He chuckled. “I know you’re around here…”

He blocked the light from the hall as he passed the missing spaces in the bookshelf. Waylon held his breath. The pressure on his leg was becoming too much, too much, too fucking much. A few tears trickled down his face.

He couldn’t hold it anymore.

Falling against the shelf, books scattered onto the ground with a clatter. “Fuck,” he groaned. The Cook had already heard him, so fuck it.

The Cook whirled around with his saw in the air. Waylon shoved himself against the shelf as hard as he could and it tipped over. Letting out a choked yell, the Cook stumbled backwards, only for the shelf to take him to the ground. Waylon screamed as he scrambled over the shelf to the door, black spots coating his vision. He sprinted down the hall as the Cook struggled to get the bookshelf off.

He sprinted through the halls until he couldn’t anymore. Smacking to the ground, he dragged himself forward. The buzzsaw was getting closer. He gasped and choked for breath, pulling himself towards a barricade of filing cabinets and hospital beds, trying to squeeze through the gap.

“You are mine!” The Cook yelled.

He was gaining. Waylon’s leg was dead at this point, he was in too much pain to even feel it anymore. He got through the gap just as a slash came down on his leg. He pulled himself through and the Cook tried to squeeze through himself, only to get stuck with a growl.

“Get back here!” He screamed.

Waylon staggered to his feet and hobbled, practically hopping on one foot, down the hall. He struggled his way through and found himself in a bathroom. Collapsing to the tile, he pressed his back to a closed stall door and pulled the fabric from around his leg. He bit back a scream as the fabric dragged across the burns. It was blistering bad, and the Cook had opened one with his saw, the pus dripping and running down his red skin. The burns covered from his ankle to his knee.

“Come on, Waylon,” he whispered. “Keep going. Get out.”

It took all of his strength to get to his feet.

“See me now,” someone growled, their voice raspy. “Just try!”

Waylon straightened up. It came from right behind him. He hesitated, then took out his camera and swung open the stall door. A Variant stood, holding a doctor on their knees, slamming their head into the toilet over and over again.

“What do you see?” He snapped through the blubbering and gurgling. “Who am I? Idiot.”

Waylon stumbled over to the sinks and set the camera up to face him. The Variant was barely in frame.

“Lisa,” he said cautiously, glancing at the Variant through the viewfinder, “or whoever finds this, know that Murkoff is creating monsters. I’d never seen the patients after they’d gone through that German’s so-called therapy. The Engine. So much worse than I could have imagined. They may still be human, but something’s been ripped out of them. And too many… other things pushed back in.” He repressed a shudder. “They were not all murderers. They were sick, but they weren’t killers. Murkoff made them monsters.” He reached out to grab the camera, then hesitated. “Dr. Roset said the engine had ‘varying effects,’” he made air quotes, “the variant outcomes too erratic for any sort of prediction.” He huffed a laugh. “I took it as idle cafeteria small talk, Raul’s endless chatter.” He swallowed and pursed his lips. “I should have listened.”

With that admission, he picked up his camera and hobbled out of the bathrooms.

He found himself back in the fucking labs again. He made his way to a decontamination chamber full of gas. A man pressed himself to the glass.

“Shut it off!” He begged. “Shut down the gas, please, I can’t…!”

He had to get through that airlock to make his way to the prison. He’d have to find the valve to shut off the gas. And quickly, if he wanted this man to live. Through the green, he couldn’t tell if he was a patient or doctor, but he couldn’t waste any time.

He found a sheet of paper on a desk and snatched it, but didn’t bother reading it yet. While exploring for the gas room, he came across a Variant smacking his head into the door until it bled on the wood. Waylon grabbed his shoulder.

“Hey, man, come on, stop,” he said firmly. He looked into the Variant’s eyes and tried not to flinch away. His voice came out a little weaker. “Just… Don’t do that to yourself, okay?”

He hesitantly took his hand back. The Variant stared. Then continued.

Waylon sighed. These people are broken.

The buzzsaw picked up again as he hobbled down the hall. He grit his teeth so hard something cracked.

They met eyes through the darkness. Waylon whipped around and hobbled down the hall. The footsteps raced after him. Slamming the door behind him, he pressed himself to the wall next to the door and panted. BAM! BAM! The door nearly came off its hinges. BAM! BAM!

BAM!

The Cook barged into the room a few steps in and Waylon ducked back into the hall. Before the Cook noticed where he was, he hurried into another room with two beds and an open vent. Could he get up there with his leg? He hopped onto the bed and leapt. Fuck, that fucking hurt. Groaning, he pulled himself up into the shaft, barely biting back a scream as his leg dragged against the metal.

He dragged himself through the shaft, only to fall through a grate and land hard on the floor. One of the two doors slammed against its lock. Waylon leapt to his feet and rushed to the other door, swinging it open into the bathroom and slipping through a crack in the wall. He explored the halls a bit, staying low to the ground and in the shadows, until he passed by double doors into a lab room.

There was a patient file on the counter.

MURKOFF PSYCHIATRIC SYSTEMS

PROJECT WALRIDER

Patient: Frank Antonio Manera

Page age: 36

Gender: Male

THERAPY STATUS:

Minimal Morphogenic Engine activity, and only at extreme (stages 5 and 6) levels of hormone therapy. Dream states return repeatedly to images of isolation and betrayal. Zero lucid state.

INTERVIEW NOTES:

He was lethargic and largely non-responsive, exhibiting interest only in the hypnotherapy script pattern 9 (Wernicke), concerning drinking blood from the chest of sleeping men. He continues to refuse baths or the attention of a barber outside of general anaesthesia, stating, “if I cannot partake, I cannot share.”

Recommended forced nutrition for Manera if we cannot find something he likes to eat.

MURKOFF PSYCHIATRIC SYSTEMS PROJECT WALRIDER

MOUNT MASSIVE CO

The Cook. Frank Manera.

He continued through the room, jumping as he found a bloodied security guard curled in the corner. “Get out of here. This is my place.”

Waylon stared.

“You’re going to get me killed! Fuck off!”

Waylon crumpled the file in his hands. He hoped Manera came through here. He continued on, in the wallway finding the signs for the gas room. Following the signs, he continued through the labs, blood and corpses spilled over the slabs of metal.

“There you are!” Manera cackled, growing closer from behind.

Waylon hobbled forward, his leg burning under the pressure. “Leave me alone, you fucking creep!”

He cornered himself against a closed, gas-filled decontamination chamber. Manera stalked the halls.

“I won’t be hungry for much longer.” Manera grinned.

Waylon looked around for any sign of exit. I have to get home to Lisa. He looked up. A wooden panel hung over the top of the decontamination chamber.

Manera lunged. Waylon barely got out of the way in time, lurching to the left, then stomped on Manera’s foot. As Manera howled and doubled over, Waylon nearly lost his balance, vision blacking out for just a second. He regained his footing and shoved Manera as hard as he could. Grabbing the edge of the wood, he hauled himself to the top of the chamber.

The gas room was on the other side. He turned the valve and the chamber cleared. He sighed.

Now that he had a moment, he pulled out the file from earlier.

EXCERPT FROM 1957 AND COMMENT ON IG REPORT “OPERATIONS OF TSD”

Influencing Human Behavior

The potential use of psychochemicals in political action operations is well recognized...Chemical Division includes it as an objective of its programs to be prepared to support or make such operations possible. Non-chemical methods of accomplishing political action operations are also included in the program.

Note: (J.Lawyer/April 15, 1958) Present the above MKULTRA excerpt to Technical Services Division for budgeting and authorization of continued research of Dr. Rudolf Wernicke...and project WALRIDER. Autopsy of recovered test subjects show chemical content of bodies (metallic tumours, evidence of sub-dermal combustion) that indicate heavy psychochemical dosage.

MKULTRA? Waylon pocketed the note with shaky hands. That’s why they were experimenting on the patients? As much as he worked on it, he had no idea what Project WALRIDER really was.

He placed his hand on the door. He just had to get back to the decontamination chamber, see if that guy was still alive, and get into the outside recreational area. Then he could get to the prison and use the radio.

#outlast #outlast whistleblower #waylon park #miles upshur #camerashipping #outlast revisited

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