#this shit is still hard and im still carrying these beliefs about myself around with me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snickerdoodlles · 9 months

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✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

(prev) hmm, maybe Hair-Trigger? like, it got a good response, i'm very grateful to everyone who's read it ❤❤❤ i don't mean in a 'im looking for more hits' sort of way, i just really love Porsche & Kim as a duo and spin them around in my head like a shiny rock all the time. this mostly manifests in me spamming tortoise with Kim & Porsche snippets and thoughts that never seem to flesh out into proper fics, so Hair-Trigger has a special spot in my heart because it's my one finished Porsche & Kim fic and I want everyone to look at Porsche being extremely fond of Kim and Kim feeling all sorts of things about how fond Porsche seems to be of him (surely???? this is a trick????? he is so nice and smiley????????? a mystery)

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

i like them all!! i genuinely enjoy all "types" of comments for different reasons, it feels weird to rank them against each other. so long as the comment is excited to engage with me/gush over idiot nerds together, i'm excited to answer and chat with them (although, i am. very behind on my inbox rn. hjghjg im sorry friends, i promise i will respond even tho it might be v late 😂💦)

💘Is there any posted fic you want to rework/re-edit/re-write?

I've actually been rewriting a *checks date* 5.5 yr old yoi WIP (*winces*) for a while now. very slow as my attention gets drawn away, but i love epistolary fic and there's a funny satisfaction without pressure to re-writing it.

but the story rewrite that actually has been sitting on my head for...forever really, is my ft story Jinxed. i was very new to fandom/writing fic when i first posted it, and at the time i'd just posted what i wrote and then went "...wait, how the fuck do you write a multi-chapter story???" and i really psyched myself out of posting more for it.

however, it's always like...sat in the back of my head, even after the fandom bullshit and when ft went to shit. because i just...don't like soulmate/soulmark AUs. 😅 the reasons behind my dislike for the trope are uh...kinda long and extensive actually, so i'll save that for a different post if anyone cares enough to ask, but the premise in this story of two girls with mismatched timers who fall in love and choose each other anyways is one i'm extremely drawn to. and i'm still like, figuring out how to write long stories, and i'm never going to write again for ft, so whenever i look over the old story drafts and notes, i'm actually thinking about it as an original story. not one i've started and maybe i'll stumble into a fandom that i want to apply this premise to, but...after i figure out long-form stories, i really want to swing by this one again, if simply to have it stop haunting my brain every few months.

(rest under the cut because i am rambly lol)

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

hmm Silver for Truth is the obvious one since i whined about it taking a yr+ to write, but i think everyone understands when i say Tawan is an annoying ass bitch to write.

i'm actually going to cheat and say the freezer!Kim WIP i'm writing with @majestictortoise. there's a few different POVs in this story and one of them is Porsche's POV, and there is something about Porsche's POV specifically that i find very hard to capture. even when i know what i want from his arc and character struggles, post-canon Porsche carries around some conflicting beliefs and mindsets that i find really tricky to write, plus he's also a guy of action who's been forced to a standstill and i want to capture that trapped feeling without making it obnoxious. he's just tricky to me in a way that other characters aren't. (i actually ran into this issue with Hair-Trigger too, except it wasn't so hard because that's a fic about him Doing A Thing He Wants To Do, which is why i was able to write it within the timeframe i did. oh Porsche, ilu, why do u stick in my head so. orz)

🦋what are you most insecure about when you post a fic?

everything? idk, my reaction after i post a fic is to either Stare At My Inbox or desperately try to distract myself from the fact that i Posted A Fic, which really go to show how secure i feel about my writing 😂 i try very hard not to let a fic's reception get to me when i post because i've been down that road and it's really bad for me. all fic i post is fic for me, but i haven't hit the carefree attitude of "idc what you think, its for me first and foremost" yet.

🌻what makes you want to give up on writing? what makes you keep going?

there's nothing that makes me want to give up on writing specifically. i wail and cry when stuff isn't flowing right, but like. so i had an irl thing run me over like a truck april/may of this year and it's bullshit kept spilling out through june and july too, so i had like no time or energy to write or even spend much time on fandom stuff for four months, and i went absolutely bananas. i need to do something creative to feel good, and writing is my favorite of those.

posting...posting is a different story 😂 weirdly if im chasing the high of posting a fic/the high of comments on fic, i dont like to post as much. the hill in my head is too much to get around, so that ig.

🌿how does creating make you feel?

*points up*

also prev

🍉in what ways has writing helped you process trauma and/or navigate through your own life?

...this is such a weird question lmao (not u, the person who made the question list should have deleted this). i've always found writing as a good way of examining my internal biases and preconceptions i might not have otherwise had opportunity to find and reflect upon so clearly, and i'm going to leave it at that.

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

fuck if i know what my writing style is 😂

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

*curls up in more shy* hmm, i really like reading my own stories. like, i always have cyclic periods of "oh god this is garbage what the fuck was i thinking" feelings for each of my fics, but i know now that feeling is brief and it'll be gone soon enough and it will stay gone longer than it comes. the person who reads my stories the most is me, and the fact that i want to go back to read them again is really important to me.

🎉how often do you celebrate completing & posting a work? how often do you give yourself the credit/validation that you seek from others when you post? (if you don't, you should!)

i don't think i linger so much on the actual posting of the fic, but i return to my fics a lot and i've also started paying more attention to how much i post. i'm trying to find a balance between acknowledging that i posted stories vs "oh god, im not posting ENOUGH," but back at the turn of this year, i was really bummed that i didn't get as much posted during december as i had set out to do, specifically because i felt like 2021 had been a really strong year and i'd let myself down not finishing as many fics in 2022. then i actually checked my AO3 stats for 2021 to 2022, and realized i'd posted 4x as much in 2022 than i had in 2021. over 100k words altogether even!

i think i'm getting off topic, but between rereading my own stuff pretty frequently and trying to get a better grasp on how much i've actually posted vs what's in my head, i think i celebrate pretty often? idk 😂

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

characters!!! everything's built around the characters. i love worldbuilding, making up worlds is a lot of fun, but i worldbuild through the lens of "what am i interested in?" (which starts with characters) and "how does this affect x?" (because if it doesn't matter to/affect the character, it shouldn't be a priority to me). similarly, plots exist for me to put Specific Guys Into Situations. a plot can be objectively interesting, but i'm not going to stick to it if i don't care about the people going thru it, my brain just doesn't focus like that.

the actual writing of the story is lowest priority on my list. there's a lot of writing types i don't like, but i can muscle thru a lot in the name of a good cast or plot. similarly, i don't give a flying fuck how pretty or polished a writer thinks their sentences are, if the actual story is boring or OOC, i am not reading it. or i am reading it and bitching extensively in friends DMs, which is worse. 😂

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

honestly, hard for me to answer because i'm actively trying not to think about what sort of response i do get. i guess one that still amuses me quite a bit is the response to my fic Shining Dishonesty (howls moving castle AU for haikyuu!!). i love this story to bits and i really love the comments i have on it, but it's weird/funny to me because it's my most recommended and mentioned fic on twitter, but it's one of my lowest in terms of kudos & comments. idk what's up with that 😂

🤍what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

*big shrug emoji* nothing that comes to mind???

maybe Silver for Truth, just a little bit???? everyone got the message of "get fucked Tawan" but there was also a little more pity for Tawan than i'd expected. like, not really, because Tawan's annoying, but i don't know that everyone quite caught Khun's trap for Tawan in it. Tawan could've completely turned things around for Vegas and ruined Kinn's lie by confessing his own failures/betrayals and accepting the consequences, except Tawan puts himself before all others, even someone he claims to love.

🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

honestly? i don't remember the specific writing issues once something is done. even for something that takes me a while to write. usually my writing hang-ups are related to irl stressors. Pitch It was an extremely hard fic for me to write, but that was because it had a deadline attached to it while i was also trying to come up with money for a new car after my previous one was totaled 😂 and while i approach all stories with a vague plot in mind, it's purposefully vague so i can adapt to where's best for the story to go. that's the part i look forward to the most when writing lol.

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

lol i don't even have to sort my stories to know which one is my least number of hits/kudos. it's by dawn's early light, which i wrote for the bnha myths zine, and it is literally one of my favorite fics i've ever written. there's some stuff i would've done differently now, but i liked it when i finished it, i liked even thru that fucking project's mess, and i liked it enough to post it after the project was finished, and that is probably the highest praises i can give that particular fic.

(this response probably doesn't make much sense to anyone who hasn't participated in a zine before and i'm not going to burden you with context if you haven't, but like. trust me. that's saying a lot 😂)

🍭why did you start writing?

to make a dick joke. i haven't changed.

💎why is writing important to you?

it's just fun. i really like doing it and i really like connecting with people over it/through it.

🪄what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you've finished a fic?

i re-read the story about a bajillion times in that first week. you'd think i'd be sick of it by the time it's posted, but the satisfaction of having finished something changes the way i read it and i just bask in that.

📡why is writing and sharing your writing important for fandom?

another terrible question in this otherwise nice questions list.

i like it, so i do it, and i'm lucky enough to have made friends through it.

🎙️which one of your fics would you like someone to make a pod-fic of?

i'm excited if anyone wants to make a podfic of my work and i give general permission for it, but it's not something i seek out specifically. i have very bad ears, it just doesn't really cross my mind.

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

*points up however many questions ago* it's very fulfilling for me and i like it a lot. i'm lucky enough to have also made connections to others by way of writing, but first and foremost is i enjoy the actual act of it.

💋when you leave comments on a fic, do you want to hear back from the writer?

maybe? idk, i leave comments because i like to leave comments. i like hearing back, but its not like im leaving a comment looking for that. wrong mindset for this question, u know?

☯️how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?

*sighs* this fucking questionnaire maker lmao.

responding to fics is fun for everyone. it's a great way to make new friends if that's the fandom experience you're hoping for (same goes for responding to edits, art, etc). if you're anxious to start talking to people or leaving comments or whatever, take the babysteps you need to try to push and expand your comfort zone. and be gentle on yourself -- there's no "right" way to interact with fandom, and you don't have to be perfect at what you want to do right away either.

but if that's not the way you want to interact with fandom, you don't have to. there's nothing wrong with "lurking" and frankly i care about my stuff being enjoyed (even if i never hear about it!), not the ~proper~ way to be in fandom or whatever. furthermore, my healthy fandom experience is regulating and maintaining my own reactions to the reception (or lack of) i get when i post so that it stays fulfilling for me, and that's how i create my healthy fandom experience.

🧿what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to?

mostly i look inwards to see what exactly im dissatisfied with and examine why. there's plenty of stuff that i wish had a bigger reception, but i focus on things that i can control (what im happy with in a story, what i enjoyed about the process, talking about it more in my own blog space so people can choose to engage or ignore, etc) and push myself to that framework of mind. the worst thing you can do is focus on things you can't control, especially something as random and fickle as other people's reactions or a post/story hitting the trend wave just right.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

timeloop AU!! (prev)

timeloop AU will be 3 chapters + an epilogue. first chapter is Kim POV, the second one is Big POV, and third is Chay POV. Kim is the first one trapped in the timeloop. Big joins him later. Chay never does.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

in my fic Single Star Review, Khun goes to university and then starts seeking extra therapy help. i am Extremely excited for this one, but one of my favorite-favorite parts of it is Khun dismissively says "it's not like i can call Kim and gossip about boys" and Flop (the therapist, no that's not actually his name) asks Khun "why not" and Khun stares through a wall for a solid three minutes realizing hey, he CAN call Kim to talk about boys actually.

-later that night-

Khun: Kim! Kimmy-Kim my littlest kin! forget your other plans, tonight we are painting our nails and gossiping about BOYS

Kim: what the fuck

Khun: my therapist thinks i should try talking to you about stuff

Kim: THERAPIST?!

Khun: THAT'S NOT THE IMPORTANT PART HOW DO I HANDLE HAVING A CRUSH

(Kim is, ofc, over the moon and extremely excited when his brain catches up with his ears, even though he's a total little brother about it.)

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Red Line fic is the first installment of a 4-fic series (tortoise is laughing at me for thinking it'd stop with 1). mostly because it immediately dived into one of my favorite variations for how Chay kills Korn.

Korn's death is not a fix-it.

#idk if u meant for me to answer ALL but i had to >:)#<333333

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keefwho · 11 months

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July 02 - 2023 Sunday

8:34 AM

Another shit Sunday spent alone wondering how I went so wrong and ended up all by myself. Please kill me.

Im just digging myself deeper and deeper into the belief that no one cares about me as much as I care about them. I see so much evidence. I’m tired of having to gaslight myself into believing otherwise. I don’t blame anyone though, look at me. Who would want anything to do with a loser like me? I haven’t changed since high school. Still just the same bozo ruining everything around me.

Can’t wait until tomorrow when I get to remind myself how shit I am at drawing and how hard I’ve failed at improving. And it’s at the expense of someone else’s wallet. How fucking shitty am I

Maybe I also have a habit of wanting attention from people who don’t give a shit about me.

9:29 AM

Maybe tomorrow I’ll pick myself back up and try to gaslight myself into thinking I’m okay.

I don’t know why I do this to myself. I’m trying to ignore all my socials because it hurts seeing them empty. But I know when I turn them back on later and I still have no messages, it’ll hurt even more. I always do this. It’s a way to convince myself that people don’t care.

9:59 AM

I’m always the one that fucks relationships up, friend or otherwise. I’m the one that makes things weird. I’m not fit to be with anyone, even just a friend.

It breaks my heart to know I will always be moved on from. People will always find someone better. I don’t want to live in a world like this. I just wish I could be worthy of anything.

10:20 AM

I refuse to un-isolate myself until I can behave fairly. I’m tired of sabotaging everything. I can’t do that if I keep my destructive self away from everything. Personal problems HAVE to be handled alone. It’s no one else’s business.

I crave attention. I crave the feeling that I’m not alone. But I don’t want to give into it, because I am alone. It’s not healthy trying to convince myself otherwise.

11:04 AM

How do I know if I’m being unfair to myself? Isn’t it right for me to accept people’s help and compassion? But what if I’m misusing it?

Am I supposed to be doing something right now to help myself or can I just give up for now

11:59 AM

I barely have the will to hold myself up. I want to lay down and never move again.

12:32 PM

I am in so much pain. I can’t imagine belonging anywhere. I’m so detached from everything. I hope I feel good enough soon to come out of my isolation and reach out. But I have to make sure I’m not using anyone to keep me afloat.

I’ve had such bad form this weekend and been so very selfish. I shouldn’t expect anything from anyone, not how I am right now. It is not deserved.

1:19 PM

In the effort of not giving up I’m just letting myself feel everything right now. And I rant about it here. If I get stronger then tomorrow I will try to re-read and dissect everything. I know there are ways for me to overcome these problems if only I have the courage to try. But right now I’m all out of everything.

Its all about how I want to be. There isn’t a “right” way to carry myself, only the way I choose. When I think about people’s dynamics and what is “unhealthy”, it really is case by case. 2 people could be completely dependent on each other which I think objectively is a fragile system but if it happens to work out their whole lives then it was a good thing. Relying on other people to pick me up could work out if they are always there to do it and it isn’t a drain on them. That would be a stable system. Or I could be completely independent, a loner who partakes in the company of others. Honestly I don’t think I want to be that, I want to depend and be depended on. I don’t want me or my friends to easily abandon each other just because we don’t need each other. I want to be needed and I want to need. There is a healthy way to do that.

2:12 PM

If I’m still not ready by tomorrow, I will at least have to open Discord for commissions. I’m trying very hard not to make an excuse to get that attention that will only be used to bandaid my problems. If anyone even messaged, it would be hard not to check it but I’ll see when I get there.

I have a lot of good things in my life I want to fight for. Feeling how I do right now is something I have to carry with me and make known. Things will only slip away from me if I let them. I know what my true desires are. I want to hold onto everything. I can earn my place. I can fight for what I want even if I fall like I did this weekend. Whether I like it or not, everything I’ve felt the past couple days is a part of me. I was there for it and it was me. The best thing I can do is acknowledge it and roll with it’s punches instead of ignoring it and suddenly taking it all head on.

I always worry people will not understand this about me. That they won’t understand I come with baggage but it’s baggage I intend to do something about. I would take anyone that does the same, as long as they are fighting it. I know I am fighting it and it’s up to others to understand that.

3:33 PM

As much as I need a chat, I want to make sure I am in the right headspace for one. I also refuse to burden certain individuals during such an important event, that is honestly selfish of me. I can wait.

Im still avoiding myself. But maybe I’m almost ready to pick myself back up. But I still believe deep down that everything will go wrong. Unfortunately I have to face those fears. I can dig myself out of this and I know it. I think my vision is clouded. I don’t have friendships that are on the decline. I have dedicated friends that need me to be my best. Friends that cheer me on. I won’t come back to a cold shoulder, I will come back to open arms and understanding. If only I can echo that back to myself.

Im finding it hard to eat because of all this depression and stress. Best I can do is treat myself to a nice little lunch. Really take my time and care with it.

4:01 PM

What upsets me about something and what can I do about it? I forget I have the power to change things. If I see a dirty surface, I can clean it. If I see something in me I don’t approve of, I can behave in a way to disincentivise it. If I see a problem with someone, I can talk to them about it.

4:35 PM

I can’t in good faith talk to anyone unless I’m in touch with myself first. I’ve done that too much, it means I’m not giving them the proper attention as respect they deserve as another person. It makes it easy for me to misuse their generosity. I know what it’s like to know who I am and connect with others so I know what my goal is and feels like. I want to bring my whole self to any interaction. It only seems responsible. I might not always catch myself though.

I was looking at old VRchat pics with the intent of remember that I was in fact there, and so were they. We were both there. And we are both somewhere now. That makes me feel good and reminds me of what it means to be me. I think I am ready. I hope I’m not rushing myself.

Even when I feel like I wasn’t there, I was. Like how yesterday everything I felt and did, it didn’t seem like “me”. But it was. What I’m experiencing is me trying to cling onto what I think I SHOULD be which is someone that doesn’t do or feel those things. But I did do that, it was part of me. I felt those things. I can’t forget that through it all I am there and everything I do makes me, me.

7:09 PM

I feel volatile again. I just don’t want to feel alone. I want to know someone cares and not just because they are doing it for my own sake. I’m so afraid I’m at the end of the road, how can keep the friends I have and make new ones? How can I accept love?

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neo-shitty · 3 years

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toffee!

yeah same, i follow some fic accs that occaisionally post smut and its like mmmmm is the fluff writing enough to balance the posts that gives me finger burn trying to scroll past it? but yeah thats probably the way to go

ah i wasnt there for the teaser but i can imagine that was tantalising. lmaoo yes but to be fair i do have a writing acc called channiesbigheart so... balancing it out? but i absolutely am whipped beyond belief. it was a TRAVESTY how COULD they have. yeah the b sides gave him more lines but they werent the ones that were performed over and over at stages. yessss the line distribution in this album is impeccable, im pretty sure the thunderous stuff was some of their best distribution

hehe i can understand that, sometimes putting someone in a situation so horrible it would be considered a violation of human rights is theraputic, ya know? mmmm the differences are a bit nuts, it was 14 degrees today and in less than a week its going to be 32 or smth. BROOO that would be legendary, i bet theyd treat their artists rlly well and have great music as well ahhh but its a lot of work adn commitment. yES that is a mood if ever i heard one.

its the same in australia as well, sadly, you have people who hold up harry styles and lil nas x for breaking gender roles and wearing make up adn steryotypical womens clothing (and keep in mind i have infinite respect for both of them theyre honestly doing so much for the de-dehumanising of gay people and those who wear whatever they want), and calling the kpop boys gay and other things for doing the same thing, when theyve been doing it for years and gotten no recognition smh its so tragic. yes, anyway YES ONLY 6 MONTHS I AM FOR ALL INTENTS AND PURPOSES A BBY STAN altho i considered myself a fully fledged stay like 2 days after i got into them cos i just spent all day researching and fixating. YES someone said it. it feels like theyre losing a huge chunk of why a lot of people liked their music in teh first place, which was that whole dna, dope, fire mood. and even doing bright songs is fine, liek they should do what they want but i feel liek the western music industry is so fucking toxic that they feel pressured into making these decisions. dont get me wrong, theyre good decisions from a business perspective, theyre getting record breaking sales but still. mmm yeah honestly yg just needs to get its shit together or get out

oooh! not into nct but i see a lot of him, he seems rlly talented. ahh yes another channie ult lmaoo i feel that, my list is growing in leaps and bounds as well. mmm yeah i think i will, im just going to try to save enough money :) mingi appealed to me mostly for the voice (like felix smh what is it with me and deep voiced bois) but also his soft visuals and the whole cutesy thing he has going on i rlly liked. yes i did get into them while he was on hiatus, but im still mostly a casual stan, ill listen to the album when it comes out but i dont think ill obsessively look over everything to do with it, like skz. HAH WE'RE MORE SIMILAR THAN I THOUGHT. lmaooo the thot line describes them perfectly, why are they all so damn attractive. especially seonghwa, like that man looks like a character from a book, cardan greenbriar vibes anyone? mmhmm! his vocals are absolutely insane. ty! yeah im excited altho idk how theyre every going to beat border:carnival, that shit was impeccable. ahh no stress, enjoy teh groups you stan atm!

ahh thank you so much, ill keep that in mind. hehe thats good! hopefully its soon :( ah ty, it means a lot. ill think abt that and hopefully talk abt it a little more :)

ah, no it was inside our gymnasium but to get to the other side of the stage you had to exit the building, go around the back and then enter through the other stage door. ah tysm! im glad too. mmm same, they baffle me. ;n; noo so sad :( ahh, thats um not smth i put on here, but im in high school so make of that what you will :)

thank you! ive done a majority of them, i just have maths, an english presentation and an economic assignment due now so im pretty much home free. yeah i feel like hes the epitome of here for you while being inescapably far away. haha she sounds like one of my friends. lmaooo why is that me. hmmm i feel like youve answered a lot of them in that answer so maybe just ateez, enha, txt and bp? if you stan them? :)

ahhh no problem at all, proud of you for managing to overcome the procrastination! progress! mmm thats good! ahh pls do let me know if you ever decide that, i cant promise i wont cry but do what you gotta do :)

<3 w.a. 🐺

hi! sorry for the late reply, i didn't know how to construct sentences yesterday e.e

yeah sometimes it's the perfect balance! i personally don't like fics that focus mainly on the filth? the plot has to carry the whole fic somehow and the smut is just something to add to the mix. also, i'll follow you on your writing blog! i keep forgetting to do so, damn it.

"sometimes putting someone in a situation so horrible it would be considered a violation of human rights is theraputic, ya know?" putting it this way just silenced me but yes. angst just feels more realistic. it isn't always happy endings irl so i tend to do it a lot.

falling into skz is so easy! it felt like that for me too. stanning them felt like getting sucked into a blackhole. also yes i agree. kpop is nothing but an industry after all and it runs on money so i get why they do what they do as well.

i suggest we not talk about haechan because i will literally not shut up but yes my boy is an ace :( chan is also sooooo easy to love. and the chan's rooms just solidified his place as ult. having something to look forward to every week at a time when my mental health was just plummeting into the depths of tartarus just helped me be stable. oh yeah, mingi's deep voice is indeed sexc. and he has some wack ass duality as well! and i think seonghwa was one of the people i nearly considered as bias just because of his visuals because wow that's one beautiful face. and true, idk how enha's going to beat border:carnival. i don't like all the tracks simply bc of taste preferenceds but i like more than one so i consider that a lot already.

bro that gym should've had some sort of a covered walk :// also i miss being in high school sO DAMN MUCH. but i still feel like i am because time stopped when quarantine started and i was still in senior year at the time.

my ateez bias is wooyoung! it wasn't that much of a shocker to my kpop stan irls because i was a jimin stan for the longest time. enhypen is jake and they kept pointing out that he looked like seungmin sometimes so it's like chan's aussie-ness with a tinge of seungmin (the other guy in my skz bias line, in case i haven't mentioned it). txt is huening kai! i find it hard to believe that he's my age because he looks a lot younger? o.O and he always looks good damn :(( sigh for blackpink it's lisa! i tend to bias the maknaes of yg groups, it's a pattern i've noticed but don't intentionally do!

DON'T WASTE YOUR TEARS OMFG. you can always reach me elsewhere if i like disappear off this blog.

#toff.asks #wild anon 🐺

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pikapeppa · 4 years

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Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Nothing Is Inevitable

Chapter 54 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3!

In which Fenris and the crew wind down after killing the Avvar dragon by listening to Ameridan’s memories which are super lighthearted and not at all heartbreaking, and Fenris and Rynne have a Talk™.

Only an excerpt is here; read the whole thing here on AO3 (~9200 words).

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Ameridan’s memories floated out of the flask and separated into five globes of light. Fenris glanced nervously at Hawke. “Shall I just, er…” He gestured vaguely at the memories.

She shrugged. “It worked for your memories in the Fade. Hopefully it’ll work with these.”

He nodded, then reached at random for one of the memories. The memory flared briefly, and Ameridan’s mellow voice echoed through the air.

“I dislike being so far from home,” the voice said. “Halamshiral needs me. The darkspawn have grown stronger. Some of my brothers would let those creatures destroy Orlais; they think Drakon no better than the Imperium. But if we do not stand with the humans against the darkspawn, we might lose everything we have gained. I will fight this Avvar-dragon for you, Drakon… and then we shall drive back the darkspawn together.”

Varric sighed. “Shit. This, uh, explains a lot.”

Dorian grimaced. “Yes, quite. If the elves had helped Orlais during the Second Blight, Orlais might not have turned on them later.”

“Hang on,” Hawke protested. “It’s not the elves’ fault that Orlais burst in and stole their land from them.”

“I’m not saying it’s their fault,” Dorian said in surprise. “I’m simply making an if-then statement.”

“But…” Hawke stopped, then sighed. “No no, I see what you’re saying. Ugh, what an utter shitshow.”

“Agreed,” Fenris said quietly. If Ameridan had succeeded at killing the Avvar dragon and gone back to the Dales, and if the Dalish elves of old had joined Orlais in battling the darkspawn, then maybe the Exalted March on the Dales would never have happened.

Imagine if that were the case, Fenris thought. Imagine what Thedas would be like now if the Dales still belonged to the elves. An independent nation of elves, allied with Orlais, who were in charge of their own destinies…

Or maybe it wouldn’t be like that at all. Maybe after Ameridan and Drakon died, some other excuse would have arisen for an Exalted March, and the Dales would have been taken from the elves anyway.

Blackwall broke through his melancholy musings. “The Jaws of Hakkon failed to destroy the lowlands, but their dragon did lead to the end of the elves.”

“Yeah,” Varric said softly. “That’s probably the fairest way to put it.”

Hawke smiled at him. “That’s how you should put it in your book.”

Varric smiled faintly back at her. She squeezed Fenris’s hand and tilted her head at the memories. “On to the next?”

He nodded, then reached for the next memory. This time, Ameridan’s voice was wry with humour. “If I must go to the end of Thedas itself for Drakon, I am at least glad to have friends at my side. Telana and Haron have been arguing about Haron using the lyrium to fight demons. Some things never change.” Ameridan chuckled softly before going on. “Orinna has a new alchemical trick she wants to try, like pitch or tar but stronger: a recipe straight from Orzammar. They argue, fuss, and mock each other mercilessly… and I would be lost without them.”

The voice trailed away, and they were all silent for a moment. Dorian cleared his throat. “I wonder what that’s like?”

Blackwall harrumphed, and Bull pulled Dorian against his side while Sera scoffed. “What d’you mean by that crack?” she demanded.

“I jest, of course,” Dorian said hastily. “I’m moderately fond of you all, despite your lack of proper hygiene.”

Varric smirked and shook his head, and Hawke flicked the cap of a flask at Dorian’s head. Then Cole spoke up. “They were happy, then dead. But this is still here.”

They all fell quiet again. Hawke looped her arm around Cole’s shoulders and hugged Fenris’s arm. “Well, we’re not dead,” she announced. “Nobody’s dying anytime soon, so we’re all going to keep having a good time, right?”

Her voice was bright and cheerful, and her grip on Fenris’s arm was hard. He squeezed her hand as Blackwall replied. “That’s right,” he said gruffly. “Let us hope we fare better than they did.”

“We will,” Hawke said firmly. “We already have. Go on, Fenris, let’s hear the next one.”

He reached for the third memory, and once again, Ameridan spoke to them through the glowing globe of light. “I prepare now for my final battle against this dragon of the Avvar. I offer thanks to Ghilan’nain, halla-mother, and to Andraste, Maker-bride. As you were raised up from mortal men to stand with our creators, our makers, so raise me up now to defend this world.”

Fenris’s eyes widened. “Ameridan worshipped the elven gods and the Maker,” he said. He looked at Hawke. “I had wondered about this – why he said he would see Telana at the Maker’s side. He was Andrastian, at least in part.”

She made a little face. “That would have been a pain, though, don’t you think? Trying to reconcile two sets of wildly different religions? Why bother?”

“Belief is a funny thing,” Varric said philosophically. “Besides, an elven Inquisitor must have had a careful path to walk.” He glanced at Fenris ruefully. “Still does, I guess.”

“There is that,” Fenris agreed. He himself had never publicly revealed his religious uncertainty for concern that it would obstruct the Inquisition’s goals.

Cole spoke again, this time through Ameridan’s voice. “‘They’re not so different, Drakon. Just another pair of boots to walk the same road.’ He doesn’t see, wants it simple, but I can help him get there. There’s room for both.”

“Oh,” Hawke said softly. “That’s… kind of nice, actually. Making room for both…” She looked around at their companions. “Ameridan was a pretty inclusive sort of fellow, wasn’t he?”

“Sounds like,” Sera agreed. “Elfy-elves aren’t like that these days.”

Fenris twisted his lips ruefully. “They aren’t, no. If Ameridan had survived, lived to maintain the alliance with Orlais…” He trailed off before he could continue the thought. The path of what-ifs regarding Ameridan’s survival could only lead them to a very depressing place.

Hawke sighed quietly and leaned her head on his shoulder, and he looked down at her. “Are you all right?” he murmured.

“Of course,” she said. “Just tired, that’s all. Should we hear the next one?”

He nodded and activated the fourth memory.

“We have a plan,” Ameridan said. “Haron and Orinna will lead the Avvar elsewhere, so Telana and I can deal with the dragon. Telana believes we can seal the dragon away, even if we cannot kill it.” He sighed, and even through the echo of memory, Fenris could hear the bone-deep weariness in his voice. “It is less clear whether I can do so without sealing myself in as well, but I have little choice. This beast will wreak devastation across Orlais unless we can stop it now.”

Dorian shook his head sadly. “This still boggles my mind,” he said. “Ameridan saved all of Orlais from the Avvar, and no one ever knew.”

Sera wrinkled her nose. “People-people don’t do things so you know them. Good on ‘im.”

“She’s right,” Blackwall said. “Heroism shouldn’t be about fame. It’s about doing what’s needed, no matter the cost.”

At Blackwall’s words, Fenris’s stomach twisted guiltily. Blackwall had a point; some tasks needed to be done, no matter the cost. Killing Corypheus had been one of them, and killing this possessed dragon had been another. It was selfish of Fenris to wish that those necessary tasks weren’t his responsibility. They needed to be done by someone, and that bottom line should trump everything else.

But why does that someone always have to be me? he thought resentfully. As Ameridan had said before, demons and dragons were one thing; politics and posturing was something else altogether. Every political problem, every feud, every territorial dispute: was it truly necessary for Fenris to be consulted for everything?

Dorian, meanwhile, raised his eyebrows at Blackwall and Sera. “I didn’t mean– of course Ameridan didn’t do it for the heroism. It’s just… a shame, that’s all.” He eyed them incredulously. “Come now, you two can’t really not care if you’re forgotten from history. Don’t you want to feel that you, you know, participated in everything that’s happened here?”

Cole answered for them. “It doesn’t matter that no one remembers,” he said. “What matters is that they helped.”

Hawke wilted. “But if that’s all that matters, then why are we here listening to these memories?” she said plaintively. “Why are we getting all mopey over a bunch of people that we never met if their stories don’t matter?”

Fenris glanced worriedly at her, and she laughed lightly. “Not me, of course. I’m not moping. But I can see that tear in your eye, Bull.”

Bull chuckled. “Whatever you say, little Hawke.”

She grinned at him, but her smile faded quickly. “Seriously though,” she said. “This isn’t – nothing we do is for the recognition. That doesn’t mean you want to just be forgotten. Even you two,” she said to Blackwall and Sera. “Whether you care or not, you’re not getting forgotten in any of this.”

Sera wrinkled her nose and shrugged. Then Varric shrugged as well. “It is a damn fine story,” he said. “Shame nobody found it until now.”

“It is a shame,” Fenris agreed. He reached for the fifth and final memory.

Ameridan’s voice echoed through the frosty air. “Telana, my love,” he said softly.

Hawke’s fingers tensed against Fenris’s arm as Ameridan went on. “I should not have asked you to come with me, though I know you would not have stayed behind. You are a Dreamer, and this dragon the Avvar have tamed carries a demon inside it. I can see how its presence hurts you. You should be at Halamshiral reminding our people of our alliance with Drakon. Not here, risking death again with me.” He sighed. “Still, in the old tongue, your name ‘Telanadas’ means ‘nothing is inevitable’. I will remember your name and hope.”

For the final time, Ameridan’s voice faded away. For a long, frozen moment, they all sat in a subdued silence, and Fenris could hear Hawke breathing shallowly beside him.

Nothing is inevitable. The meaning of Telana’s name hung in the air like a chilling fog that sank straight down to his bones. Ameridan had thought of Telana’s name as a sign of hope, a sign that even terrible things could be stopped and avoided. But Fenris couldn’t ignore the ugly irony of what had ultimately befallen them.

The thing Ameridan had tried so hard to avoid – his wife’s death – was the very thing he had not been able to prevent.

Cole broke the heavy silence. “Too bright, blinding, breaking, broken. ‘Get to safety. I will seal us both away. It’s not forever. Come back with aid.’ But her leg was broken. She could only lie down and try to see him one last time.”

Varric sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Aw, kid.”

Hawke suddenly hid her face against Fenris’s arm. He turned toward her and stroked the nape of her neck. “Hawke…”

She shook her head and pressed her face into his neck and shoulder, and Fenris could feel the dampness of her tears on his skin.

He swallowed hard and clasped the back of her neck. Across from them, Sera sniffled wetly, and Blackwall put his arm around her. “Come now, girl,” he said kindly. “They’re together now, like Ameridan said.”

Sera scoffed and rubbed her nose. “Not crying about that, silly. Just something in my eye.”

Hawke took a deep breath, then lifted her face from Fenris’s shoulder. “Me too,” she said thickly. “Allergies or something, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sera said gruffly.

Hawke smiled at her. “You know what’s good for allergies?”

Sera leapt to her feet. “Punch!” she exclaimed.

“You’ve got it,” Hawke said cheerfully. “Come on, back to Stone-Bear Hold so I can mix up some punch.” She braced her hand on Fenris’s knee and started pushing herself upright.

He hastily took her hand and helped her to her feet. “Be careful, Hawke,” he warned. “Your mana…”

“I know, I know,” she said. “Taking it easy, no magic for the rest of the night.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “If you want to carry me back to Stone-Bear Hold, that might help me recover faster.”

“I could, if you need me to,” he said.

She grinned wickedly, and Varric shook his head. “You should know better than to offer to carry her,” he said dryly.

“Hush, Varric, you’ll ruin it,” Hawke scolded. She gave Fenris a winsome smile. “Oh please, most handsome elf in Thedas, will you carry me?”

Fenris huffed in amusement and pinched her waist. “Only if you need me to. It is not my job to transport you across Thedas. I’m not a nuggalope.”

“You’re right, you’re not,” she said promptly. “I’d much rather ride you than a nuggalope.”

Fenris scoffed and rubbed his mouth. Blackwall and Bull snorted, and Sera cackled loudly while Dorian rolled his eyes.

Varric shot Fenris a knowing look. “You walked right into that one, you know.”

“I know,” he said ruefully. “I regretted it the moment I said it.” He placed a solicitous hand at the center of Hawke’s back. “Come on, back to the settlement.”

Read the rest on AO3.

#fenris #fenris fic #Lovers in a Dangerous Time #fenris the inquisitor #fenquisition #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenrynne #jaws of hakkon #joh dlc #pikapeppa writes

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sportsarenotoxygen · 5 years

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GOM valentine’s HCs

some late gom+kuroko+momoi x reader (separately) valentine’s hcs that have probably been done to death before but i still wanted to write some so here! please enjoy!

akashi

akashi definitely shows how happy and grateful he is when he gets your chocolates. so much that he’s almost acting strange if you didn’t know him so well

(because he remembers all those days his mother tried to give his father love and never received any acknowledgement in return. he is not repeating that with you)

he’s super freaking happy and smothers you with kisses and cuddles

then he starts giving back

really giving back like he stays with you the whole day, is a complete gentleman (but more than usual because let’s be real he always is), more affectionate, really does not let you lift a finger

you: sei you know it’s okay, i can carry one bag

akashi: nonsense, it’s my thanks for those chocolates you made. which i absolutely loved by the way

you: you...you said that when you paid for lunch. and when you drove us to the park. and--

akashi: it’s my thanks. for the chocolates i loved. did i mention they were delicious--

you, blushing: ohmygod okay okay fine

midorima

if it’s your unlucky day, midorima’s gonna be watching your back and making this day as good as it could get because yes he believes in oha asa but he will not allow bad luck to ruin your day because he knows you’ve been working so hard to make this day good for the both of you

if it’s his unlucky day, he’s gonna be on edge maybe even entertaining thoughts of whether he should be near you so you’ll have to reassure him that all will be fine

you, over the phone: but i have to give you my gifts!!!!!

midorima: your chances of having a good day will be drastically lowered if i’m with you, so i’ll pick them up tomorrow, nanodayo

you: shintaro! dont! you! dare! think! you! could! ruin! my! day! you make my day so you better!!!!

midorima: i’m sorry y/n, but i don’t want to risk it

you: well i guess i’ll just wait at the cafe by myself...with all these couples around me...

midorima, guilty: fine. but only for an hour

he’s got your lucky item ready and his own when he gets there

you don’t make a letter for him though, you merely just give a speech about every thing you love about him from his belief in oha asa, to the way he looks out for you, to his love for basketball, his manner of speech and everything else (yes right in that cafe. the elderly couple in the next table over are giving you such fond looks)

by the end of it, he’s a blushing mess and that’s what your goal was all along let’s be honest

aomine

he pretends to think valentine’s a really tacky and stupid day and how ‘theres no point giving anything on this particular day its just stupid’

so much so that you hesitate when giving your chocolates

you hesitate so much so that he notices and now that he notices he feels slightly bad and tries to drop some hints

you, reluctantly: it’s really...all in your face huh

aomine, swearing at himself: it’s not too bad

but when you go the whole day without giving him anything he starts getting worried

aomine, thinking: crap did you think i meant all that

of course, if you actually got him nothing that’s fine too but he doesn’t want the reason you got him nothing was because he thinks it’s stupid

especially when he sees how you’re pointedly trying to ignore every other couple

so, just as you two are about to part ways, he goes

‘look, you know i didnt mean any of that stupid shit. i dont mind valentines chocolates or anything i was just being stupid’

he’s scared to look at you but when he does

youre giving him this shit-eating grin

you, smug: so you finally admit it huh

aomine: what the hell y/n

you reveal that you just wanted him to say all that and now that he has, you’ve won!

he’s half red because of frustration and half because of embarrassment but well

that’s one of the reasons he loves you ofc

kise, murasakibara, kuroko, momoi under the cut!

kise

patiently waits for his chocolates

patiently

but he has to wait hourrrrssss because he has a photoshoot that day which sucks because he’d wanted to stay over so he wouldn’t get caught with fans going over

and inevitably he does get caught by a bunch of fans and gets given loads of chocolates from them

but of course he’s waiting for yours

so he can’t wait until he meets up at your house and you greet him with a bright smile and his is equally as bright

he’s really not subtle at all

kise: hey hey y/n-cchi did you make me some chocolates?????? im really craving chocolates today!!!!!! chocolates you made!!!!! because i love you!!!!! (he had been too excited to realise mayyybe bringing over the chocolates his fans gave him would give the wrong impression so he hastily shoved them all under his coat at the last minute this boy)

you: you can just say you want some you know...i know its valentines

when you give it to him he’s over the moon. he’s...very dramatic when he tastes them. like a lot

kise: THESE ARE SO GOOD Y/N-CCHI THE BEST CHOCOLATES IVE EATEN IN MY LIFE I LOVE THEM SO MUCH I LOVE YOU--

you, slightly worried: thanks. i think. you know if they’re bad you can just say so--

kise: NO THEY’RE GOOD I SWEAR I JUST

he’s crying tears of joy this silly boy

murasakibara

don’t go outside with this boy during valentine’s

he will see all those chocolates and sweets and will need them

goodbye money

you have to promise to buy them all when the clearance sales come out but you and murasakibara enjoy a day-in together maybe baking some sweets yourself because you know that he does actually like to bake despite how ‘lazy and unreluctant’ he seems

he unintentionally does the move where he kisses you and says ‘oh there was something on your face’ because there was genuinely something on your face and he does not realise what a cliche cheesy romance film move that is

you already have some sweets ready so he munches on them whilst you wait for the others to finish

and surprisingly, murasakibara gives you half of what you both made. its special because he usually just gives like...a quarter which is fair because your appetites are nowhere near the same let’s be honest

he does it because he vaguely recalls muro-chin saying something about how “valentine’s day is a special day for y/n-san” and slightly misinterprets it

it’s a touching gesture coming from him of course

you gotta cherish it because once you two go buy those leftover sweets the next day...

kuroko

you know him well enough by now that you understand that despite how small his smile is, he’s smiling wide inside when you give him the vanilla milkshake you made and maji burger coupons you made/got

he asks for the recipe to make and even though you’re more than willing to tell it to him, he insists that you need to show it to him

you, explaining: so then you just add the rest of the--

kuroko: i apologise, i do not understand, y/n-san. can you please show it to me instead?

you: are you sure? i’m sure you can do it fine!!! here, i’ll write it down!!

kuroko: no, please. i am not confident in my ability. i will be more confident with you by my side

you blush at his words because they are so genuinely truthful but also cheesy af

so, kinda like murasakibara, you guys make some vanilla milkshakes together

kuroko smiles a heck of a lot but it’s always when you’re back is turned whether it’s getting the ingredients from the cupboard or turning the blender on so you miSS A LOT OF BEAUTIFUL SMILES FROM THIS BOY

but in the end you two make more than enough for the both of you so you have to store some for later

it only makes the memories last all the more

momoi

well its canon that shes not...great at cooking and that goes for baking

and contrary to popular belief, she is aware of that fact (she just tries realllllly hard to deny it because her food tastes fine!!! maybe burnt or salty af but fine!!!)

so she tries this time

employing kagami to help her through saying dai-chan will do a one-on-one with him (its not true but. but she will get the redhaired boy to help her make these chocolates the best damn thing you’ve ever tasted or else)

its hard work (kagami thinks he’s worked harder than any basketball game ever)

but the work pays off and the chocolates taste..................good!!!!

momoi is sooooooo excited to give them to you (because of course she is she’s a romantic)

you on the other hand are searching on google for “how to eat food you don’t like” “how to not gag” “how to lie”

because you love love love momoi and do not want to hurt her feelings but h o w will you eat what she makes

so you get such a huge surprise when you anxiously bite into the chocolate and it’s.......

amazing

and maybe it’s just your love for momoi making you really biased but damn it’s so good!!

momoi, worriedly because you haven’t really moved for a few minutes: is it good????

you: ...no--

momoi, panicking: *thinking* nononono but but kagami said it was good did he lie i am going to kill him ohmygodohmygod

you: it’s the best chocolates i’ve ever eaten

#kuroko no basuke #akashi seijuurou x reader #kise ryouta x reader #aomine daiki x reader #murasakibara atsushi x reader #midorima shintarou x reader #kuroko tetsuya x reader #momoi satsuki x reader #kuroko no basket #akashi seijuurou #kise ryouta #aomine daiki #murasakibara atsushi #midorima shintarou #kuroko tetsuya #momoi satsuki

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lunaschild2016 · 5 years

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Close To You - Part 1[Eric/Devi]

Rated: M

Title and inspiration from Close To You by Maxi Priest

Summary: Devi and Eric’s story continues, but this time we see things from Eric’s eyes. It was her belief in him that sparked them finally coming together, but where did it really start for Eric? The life of a childhood sweetheart, conspiracies, and the fate of the city all hung over his head. He didn’t need to be wondering how to get close to the tiny amity with fire in her eyes and a mouth to match. He didn’t need to worry and wonder about how he could find a way to just be close to her.

@kenzieam @pathybo @jaihardy @every-jai @ericdauntless @beautifulramblingbrains @bookgirlthings @jojuarez26 @oddsnendsfanfics @offroadinjandals @singingpeople @iammarylastar @irasancti @captstefanbrandt @clublulu333 @fuckthatfeeling @tigpooh67 @ex-bookjunky @jughead-wuz-here wuz-here @badassbaker @beanzjellly @beltz2016 @meganbee15 @affabletimelady @scorpio2009 @gylisaa @geekybeyondallreason @violetsonthelam @kyloswarstars @emmysrandomthoughts @kgurew @beltzboys2015-blog @slytherin-princess-25273 @whatwouldbuffydo666 @jaiboomer11 @holamor @wealwayskeepfighting @original46 @blakefc @xtheserpentx @artisthedgehog

She had an attitude I can't explain

You never know if you’re in flame

Tying me up with elastic words

I'm on a countdown till I get hurt

Her blood was hot she burned so bright

A neon sign there in the night

It's hard to say if I went too far

My heart still bares the scar

I just want to be close to you

And do all the things you want me to

I just want to be close to you (I just want to be close to you, baby)

And show you the way I feel

[Close To You; Maxi Priest]

Part 1

“What’s wrong with her?” I ask for what feels like the hundredth time since I stepped foot into the shit hole that Dauntless calls a clinic.

Once again I watch the nurses flutter around the girl on the bed, clucking like hens and completely ignoring me.

I run a hand through my hair and restrain myself from punching something or someone in frustration but I can’t completely restrain my impatience at being ignored.

That’s not something I’m willing to stand for, initiate status or not.

“Will someone tell me what the fuck is wrong with her!” I move up to stand right in front of one of the nurses that have stepped away from the bed and loom over her.

She’s wearing blue scrubs, meaning she’s from Erudite and most likely the one person in this place that’s actually fully qualified to have the title I see on her little badge clipped to her uniform.

“Eric Coulter, right?” She eyes me like a hawk and I feel irritation coursing through me. For a second, I also wonder if she’s one of Jeanine’s plants in Dauntless. That’s dismissed when she gives a strained smile. “You look a bit like your brother. I work with him from time to time. He mentioned your coming here.”

I narrow my eyes, not returning her smile and look past her to the girl still laying on the bed, motioning with my hand in her direction. “What’s her status?”

Candice, the name indicated on her badge, bristles at being ignored but answers me through thinned lips. “I have to call someone in to evaluate her, but we are drawing blood for tests and monitoring her until then.”

I look back at her and hesitate, wondering why the hell I’m getting involved and why I didn’t just leave the Amity girl in her dorm bed for someone else to deal with.

“You said you work with, Dr. Coulter?” I asked with appraising eyes, watching her closely.

“I do.”

“Then you won’t mind working with him again now, will you?”

I have no real power here in Dauntless. Not yet anyway. If I was making this same order to someone wearing black, I’m sure I would be sent away with a sharp reprimand no matter how intimidating I know I can be.

But Candice is Erudite and I have power there. My name is known. If Candice is a plant of Jeanine’s she’ll do as I say but report it back to her. If she isn’t, she’ll still do as I say.

Because, as much as I might despise it and have wanted to leave all that shit behind, I rank higher than her in their hierarchy. No matter if I wear black now, to them, I will always have true ‘blue blood’ running through my veins.

As expected she gives me a curt nod before moving off hurriedly. The other nurse wearing black gives me a look before following, and then it’s just me and the girl on the bed.

My fists clench to the sides of my body as I scowl down at her.

I hate that she’s made me care enough to step in and use my name for something when I promised I would get leadership on my own, no matter how much Jeanine tried to throw her weight around.

I hate that I’m thinking about anything or anyone else besides what I came here to do and who I’m doing it for.

Jules.

The thought of her has tightness in my chest that’s growing tighter the longer I look at this stupid tiny girl laying in the bed.

She’s not Jules. There’s no doubt about that.

Jules is tall and graceful with a smile that can infect even the snootiest of Erudite.

Jules who prefers dresses and ridiculous hats. I never have been able to figure out how she gets them all, and most of them are so ridiculous in order to get a rise out of me.

Jules who has always been able to make me laugh even when I’m in the worst fucking mood and even my brother can’t stand to be around me.

Jules who can sweetly cut a person to pieces and still leave them wondering if she was complimenting them or telling them to fuck off.

Jules, the best person I have ever known and the one I really want to save.

When I look at the amity girl, that’s who I see.

Jules is who I should be with. I should be there helping her and holding her hand or trying to make her laugh, but I’m not and it pisses me off.

Because coming to Dauntless was more important than the girl I love.

“You better not die,” I mutter angrily while glaring at the girl on the bed.

The whispered angry words won’t reach the real target, who I’m really saying them to. But I realize with some surprise that I also do mean them for the girl laying on the bed in front of me.

I turn on my heel and rush out of the clinic as fast as I will allow myself to be seen rushing anywhere. I make it to the training room corridor where control bursts away from me and I sprint into the room looking for something, anything, to make the tightness in my chest go away.

*****************************************************************************************

My brother is not who I expected to see standing behind the door of the office I was summoned to just before dinner but I can’t say the dread I had been feeling gets any better when I do see him.

If anything, it actually gets worse.

He’s standing at the end of a long conference table, hunched over papers and a tablet as I close the door quietly behind me. His presence makes me nervous as hell and I feel slightly sick to my stomach.

All I can think is something’s happened with Jules.

Elijah looks up at the sound of the door clicking shut and his eyes narrow as they take me in. I know he’s doing a snap evaluation, trying to determine a million things in the space of seconds so I won’t get upset about him fussing over me.

Even with all the recent strain on our relationship, Elijah remains the person I know I can count on most to truly care about me and how I’m doing. Even when I do my damndest to drive him and his affection away.

“Jules?” I ask, stepping forward and forgoing all greetings.

Elijah straightens and comes forward as well. I watch him carefully.

I never fuss over him the way he always did over me, like a parent rather than a brother, but I have always tried to watch out for him too. I see the tiredness etched into the way he holds himself and his face. Eyes so similar to mine that have never been able to mask his emotions from showing the way I do.

He smiles tiredly at me and motions with his hands as he speaks. “Jules is doing fine. She told me to tell you that you better be ‘kicking ass and taking names’.” He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “She also says hello and that we miss you.”

I sag a little in relief and nod while clearing my throat that has become thick with emotion. “Tell her I say, same and you bet your ass I am.” He gives me a smile and nod at my response and motions to a chair to sit. I do while throwing out my next question. “So, why am I here?”

“Well, given that you broke protocol and summoned me here, I thought you might want to know what’s going on with the girl, Devanna, I believe is her name,”

“Devi,” I correct him gruffly then frown at myself for caring enough to make the correction. Eli doesn’t say anything, just lifts an eyebrow and looks at his paper before correcting his notes.

“Devi.” He says with a nod.

“So what’s wrong with her? It’s been a day since I took her to the clinic, so it isn’t her just having a cold or something simple like that.”

The first day she had been smiling with enerving energy that just seemed to radiate from her. I almost thought she was going to explode from it there on the train. Even when she was panting and huffing from the climb and run to get on.

As the day wore on the smile faded and she withdrew. Some of the other initiates seemed to thrive on putting her down for anything and everything. Her old faction, her height, her accent...anything really.

Mostly this was other girls. The guys just dismissed or ignored her. Like I have been trying to do.

It was clear after the first night that something was going on with her but no one knew what. I wrote her off by the time we were going to sleep that first night. I just didn’t see her making it. Here we are at the end of the week and I don’t see that changing. I’m pretty sure that’s what my brother is going to tell me, that she’s done.

Once again, I’m cursing myself for not just letting it go and risking myself as I did. Especially now that I know it had been for nothing, because she’s gone anyways.

Then I remember why I ignored all logic and reason. I remember how I felt that night and what prompted me to take her. How small she was in my arms as I carried her through halls, trying not to race along them but feeling a sense of urgency I didn’t really understand.

She was moaning, almost deliriously, but not responding to anyone that was yelling at her to shut up in the dorm that night.

I laid there not saying anything to the others. though I wanted to so badly. To tell them all to leave her the hell alone. Then she went silent and I waited for something, some other sign from her that she was going to be okay.

The others around us were going to sleep, no problem, but I couldn’t. Her silence was deafening to me. I could have left her there and had tried to talk myself into doing just that. Until something made me go check on her and before I even got close I could feel the heat coming off her.

She was whispering something, so faint I could barely hear her until I crouched down beside her. Her eyes opened and they were glazed, she winced away from me and whimpered pitifully but she kept muttering. I leaned in even further and she reached out to grip my arm, and I could finally hear the broken pleading in Spanish.

“Por favor, no ... por favor ... Tuve que irme, abuela. Tuve que ... por favor no me odies.”

I don’t know what it was about her words. Her pleading for her grandmother to not hate her. To understand she had to leave. They weren’t some big revelation, I’m sure all of us felt that to some degree. Worried we are leaving someone behind that will be hurt or hate us for the choice.

It wasn’t so much the words themselves but the way she said them. How strong two of them were, how firm and how much fire was in them as she whispered them out over and over again.

Had to.

As if her life was in jeopardy if she didn’t go. If she didn’t follow her heart.

That was something Jules would do. She followed her heart and come hell or high water she would see it through. No matter the risk.

Did Devi know how much she was putting her life at risk just by choosing Dauntless? Did she even think about how she was nothing like a Dauntless should be in all the physical ways that matter?

But I was thinking like an Erudite with those questions. A Dauntless, a true Dauntless, wouldn’t care about any of that. They would just know there was no other choice. Just like Devi did.

Something inside me broke open for her right then and she wedged herself into a spot that I have hardened to all but two people in my life. Now I don’t know how to make that go away. Tightness starts to creep up on me again, my chest itches and I reach up to rub the spot but jerk my hand back down and look at Eli.

“Some of the others are saying she has the plague or something.”

Asinine.

I know better, and from his look at me, he knows I know better. His lips quirk in amusement and he shakes his head.

“We both know better than that. She is sick but it isn’t terminal…” He pauses and winces before his eyes filled with pain and he lets out a shaky breath then continues while I eye him and carefully mask my own pain “...but it won’t be pleasant for her in the least.”

I nod slowly. “So what is it?”

“Her body is expelling poison and it’s anything but painless.”

“Poison?” I almost shout the question and interrupt him.

Eli holds a hand up to me, a calming motion. “Peace Serum, Eric. You’re aware that Amity regularly imbibes in it, but it seems that her case is extreme. We are talking about a lifetime of daily exposure at high levels. Her body doesn’t know how to function without it anymore.”

I scowl in disbelief wondering how that’s possible and who in their right minds would purposely do this to themselves. But he said a lifetime, so does that mean even when she was really young?

I wave that away mentally and with my hand as well. “So what does that mean? She can’t continue can she?”

Eli shrugs and sighs before dropping his pen and leaning back in his chair casually.

“That will be up to her ultimately, but she’s already waved away the normal method of treatment. I can’t say I blame her. That would have meant removal from training for at least a week if not more depending on how extreme the treatment needed to be. Leadership has already said if that was the case then she was out with no other options available. I was near when the nurse gave her the options and she automatically turned the treatment down, already guessing that it meant she wouldn’t be continuing treatment. She’s staying and will let it purge from her system as naturally as possible.”

“So she’s going to go through initiation while going in withdrawal?” I mutter and look at the table while trying to deny how much that disturbs me especially knowing what I do about how withdrawal patients are treated.

There aren’t many cases where someone gets addicted to substances like I know there was pre-war and the drugs that were common are all but nonexistent for us now. But there are cases where someone gets addicted on the ones we do have and there are even cases where someone synthesizes a substance and then gets hooked on it themselves.

When this happens, the person is isolated and then their system is purged with a cleansing drug. Tests are run to determine how their body is handling the purge and if anything is still off then they are treated appropriately. It can take weeks if not months to treat some of the severe cases my brother has told me about and that’s just from a biological standpoint. Even after he gets done with them they still have much more to look forward to psychologically.

I don’t know if I can spend another night watching her suffer like she has been the last few nights. Now knowing what I do, it’s just bound to get worse and I can’t fucking handle that. “Why give her the choice at all? Why not just send her back to Amity!”

I look up at him when he makes a grunt and I realize that I spoke that out loud. My frustration is coming through loud and clear.

He leans forward with a frown of disapproval on his face. “You know very well they’re going to send her straight to the factionless, not back to Amity. I know you might not care for…”

“I don’t!” I’m breathing hard and rubbing my chest while looking around wildly. “I can’t!”

Elijah’s beside me suddenly and I didn’t even realize he moved until I feel his hands guiding me until my head is between my legs and he is coaching me through my breathing.

When I feel like I’ve gotten ahold of myself, I take the glass of water he hands me and avoid looking at him as I drink it.

I feel like a fucking kid again. Like when I used to have these same kinds of episodes after repressing feelings for so long until they boiled out and over. Elijah always tells me that trying to go through life so emotionally cut off isn’t healthy and I know he’s headed towards another lecture of that kind.

“Are you going to gloat now and say I told you so?” I ask him sourly when I look at him again.

“Have I ever done that?” I can hear the hurt in his tone but don’t respond. If I do I’m just going to end up saying something else hurtful.

I always do.

For being a so-called fucking genius, according to my old faction, I’m useless when it comes to anything resembling social graces. I learned early on that honesty is not the best policy for me. Silence is.

“Eric,” He says softly and leans forward, his arms on his knees and head bowed, “It’s okay to care about people. To open yourself to caring for someone.”

I sneer at him as I scoff, unable to remain silent, hard as I might have tried. “Sure it is. ‘Cause that’s worked out so well for me in the past, hasn’t it, brother?”

He looks up and I see the pain radiating in his eyes. I know my anger and words are opening up a wound we’re still trying to heal between us. That’s kinda hard to do when I’ve refused to talk any more about it.

“I can’t apologize for the way we both feel, Eric and I won’t. You two love each deeply other and that’s never going to change. What you two have is still there and it will always be there. It’s also different then what she and I have, and that has always been the case too, but it doesn’t make what you two share any less powerful.”

I nod and look away, gripping the glass tightly between my hands as my jaw clenches together. “But that wasn’t enough for me to stay, was it? I love her so much I left her when she needed me most. It just proves what I’ve always thought.”

I shrug and look back at him, knowing his next question but also needing him to ask it. Needing to expel it from me just like the little amity is doing right now with her own poison. He’s right I need to talk about this shit. I haven’t been able to until now.

I need to get this all out of my system so I can go back to not feeling at all. Then maybe I can get rid of this new sensation for a girl that has no chance of sticking around.

“What’s that?” Eli prods me softly.

“That I’m not capable of loving anyone but myself. I don’t care who it hurts in the end, as long as I get what I want.”

Elijah rolls his chair closer to me, his blue eyes that are normally filled with warmth are burning with intensity.

“I want to listen to me and listen well. You are not our parents and you have never even come close to them. You could never allow yourself to be like them.”

I listen but I can’t believe the words. I’ve never been able to believe the words. No matter how many times my brother has tried to reassure me of this over the years since our parents all but abandoned us.

His features soften and he smiles at me. “Yeah, you have the habit of pushing all your feelings aside and acting like they don’t exist, but you can never get rid of them. Which is why things like earlier happen. Because, it’s never been that you don’t and can’t care or love, Eric. It’s that when you do, it’s all or nothing for you. Bone deep love is what Jules has always called it. You left, not because you don’t love Jules but because you know that nothing will ever take that love away from you. Not even being in another faction. You said those same words to me when you came to me that night and gave us your blessing. It was something I already knew, but it was also something you had to realize for yourself and one day you’re going to find someone that you love just as deeply but in the it’s meant to be.”

I jerk my head in a semblance of a nod, not bothering to reply how I’m feeling.

I’ve forgiven Eli for taking Jules from me, well, mostly forgiven him anyway. What he says is true, I did come to see that how I love her and how Eli does, they aren’t the same. It’s just that in my mind that doesn’t really matter.

It still hurt and that wasn’t something I cared to open myself to again. I loved her but it hadn’t been enough. End of story.

He pulls back and I breathe a little easier when I realize he’s dropping the subject. Eli leans back in his chair and clears his throat.

“How’s training going?”

“Fairly good, although there was a surprise when it came to finding out how many fears we all have.”

Eli frowns at me. “Did your amount change?”

I shake my head with a scowl and look off. “No, it’s still nine. Which should have been the lowest fucking number among the group.”

“I take it someone is lower?.”

“Yeah. Four of them. The asshole even changed his name to the number of his fears.” My scowl gets deeper when I think of the scrawny Abnegation that’s causing me more uncertainty than he should be. “He’s a concern. I’ve heard some leaders and trainers saying they’re impressed by him. Rankings haven’t been posted since training just got in full swing, but I think we’re neck and neck for first. I’m pretty sure I got him beat in physical, and I don’t foresee fights being a problem, but the scoring percentage for the other stages is a serious concern with his number of fears.”

Eli taps his chin thoughtfully. “That’s an extremely low number. What faction is he from?”

I know where my brother’s train of thought has gone and I can’t say I didn’t immediately think the same when I found out Tobias Eaton’s number of fears. In fact, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to it and what I can do to remove the threat it poses to me.

“Abnegation,” I remark dryly and see him wince.

“It’s the Eaton kid?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” Eli curses with a grimace then looks at me worriedly. “I know what you’re thinking, Eric, but don’t do anything you’re going to have to live with the rest of your life. You know what they will do to him.”

I shoot up out of my chair and pace around the room. “It’s not like I have a choice here, Elijah. You know what’s expected of me. At some point, I’m going to be expected to have results for them.”

“That’s what they expect. But when have you ever done what those pricks in our faction expect of you?” Eli demands from me fiercely.

“You know why I even bothered to give their offer a second chance. Jules needs this, Elijah. This is how I save her. What does it matter if I turn over some fucking stiff that means nothing to me? Especially if it gets them off my back and me first?”

“Is that really how you want to get your position here? By taking out someone that might be stronger than you?”

I grit my teeth as out the cursed denial, and glare icily at him, giving him exactly the reaction he wants even though I know exactly what the hell he’s doing by throwing that out there.

I call it manipulation and he would say he’s being my own Jiminy fucking Cricket

“How do you think this is making Jules feel, knowing what they want in exchange for her life? Jules knows you as well as I do and I know in your mind you’re already justifying it, telling yourself that any exchange for her would be worth it but how far do you go down that road, Eric?”

The tightness starts again and I let out a growl, spinning away from him and towards a wall. I feel like punching someone and Eli is the only one in sight. “Don’t bring her name into this like some kind of weapon against me.”

I want to punch walls but know we’re already shouting and that will draw attention we can’t afford. We are risking so much already. I stop in the middle of carrying out my need to hit something in anger and just lean my hands against the wall and hang my head.

“I don’t have a lot of options here,” I whisper tiredly.

“No, not a lot, but you do have a few. Eric, we know they’re afraid of you taking the power they covet so much. There was a reason for this and maybe what we need to do is to show them why they were right in fearing you.”

I slowly turn towards him, my mind working double time as my eyes narrow. He waits patiently as I process this, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’ll need help. Contacts that I know we can trust or that we can get leverage on to make sure they stay in line.”

“I’ve already started working on that. Jules too.”

I want to protest that, not wanting her involved but I know it would be pointless. They made me promise there would be no secrets and that I had to let them help in any way they could if I made this deal.

I gave a stiff nod and then looked at my watch. “I need to get going if I am going to get some dinner before lights out.”

He gives me a strained smile and nods but I see the hesitation. His internal debate and wondering if I will reject his show of affection or not. I step forward and put out a hand which he takes and grips tightly, his hand around my forearm while mine is around his. This is the form of a hug he came up with when I stopped wanting them years ago.

He smiles at me while we still hold firmly. Eli promises to make it for visiting day and that he should have contacts for me soon. We also share words of parting, mostly jokes that have been thrown around between the three of us of what I planned to do once I finally made it to Dauntless. They aren’t as carefree as they once were before our recent falling out, but it does hint that we can get there again given time.

When I go to leave he calls my name one last time and stands there looking serious and worried. “About the girl,”

“What about her?” I ask with a frown.

“I know it goes against what I was saying earlier about opening up and all,” He runs a hand through his hair with one hand and shoves the other in his pocket with the other. “But you need to stay away from her, for now.”

I let all expression fall away from my face and tilt my head. “Not that I see it being a problem for me at all, especially considering she isn’t going to last the week, but why? Does Jeanine know I called you in?”

He shakes his head while I can tell he is warring with wanting to admonish me about my callousness and wanting me to heed his warning for whatever reason. “No. Candice isn’t in Jeanine’s circle and wouldn’t want to be anyways. Something about a friend of hers that went missing or something. So Jeanine doesn’t know I was called in from her, but that doesn’t mean she might not find out from some other source. This girl, she might not actually mean anything to you, but Jeanine is crazy enough to grasp for anything that she can use to sink her claws in you even deeper.”

I feel bile rising up my throat at that but maintain my dead tone and a blank expression. “Like I said, it won’t be an issue.”

He responds with a resigned nod and I’m out of the door quickly after that making for the mess hall. Most of the other initiates had already grabbed food and headed for the dorm which was a relief since I didn’t want to have to deal with them. I ate quickly even though I wasn’t in a rush to get back to the dorm myself. Something about the activity around me and watching everyone go about their lives helped calm me.

Gave me the headspace to think and plan.

Elijah was right about handing the stiff over, it wasn’t something I wanted to do. I didn’t want to win my place here that way just like I didn’t want to have a bit of influence from Jeanine on the leaders to sway them either. In fact, I bluntly told her that was one of the conditions of my acceptance to work with her.

I also know without a shadow of a doubt that if turning number boy over saved Jules, even by way of securing my position, then I would do it and not even blink. If I had to carry that stain on me for the rest of my life I would for her.

The decisions, resolutions really, make me feel lighter. It eases some of the anxiousness I was feeling that I have a solid plan and course of action.

I even find myself talking to a few of the members at the table of the mess hall. I pick at the slice of cake one of the guys shoved at me and listen to them all bullshit with each other, but mostly I just observe things.

I see the stiff slipping from the mess hall, pulling in on himself to try and go unseen like he’s done from the first.

I watch the leaders as they look down at their noses from up on the balcony. Talking among themselves and hardly ever interacting with anyone else. But they’re watching, always watching, to make sure their bidding is being done even if it will lead the faction straight into war.

Max seems to be the one that I’ll have to be the most careful about. I can feel his eyes on zeroed in on me, watching and judging me. Even here when I’m eating dinner like everyone else.

I shift my focus and try to casually look to see if my suspicions are right when I see something out of the corner of my eye.

A small figure hunched over her plate at an empty table far in the back and cast in shadows it’s so out of the way. The tightness in my chest starts to creep back in and I jerk my eyes away, remembering my conversation with my brother.

I know I shouldn’t feel anything but seeing her is a relief. ‘Cause at least I know she’s alright.

So I’ll keep away, but I already know I won’t be able to stop myself from watching.

#fanfiction #divergent fanfiction #divergent au #eric coulter fanfiction #romance #smut #fluff #eric coulter #eric x oc #oc #jai courtney #diane guerrero #eric and devi are back #let's see how crazy eric is

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bbhyuckie · 6 years

Text

jaehyun x reader

librarian! au

genre: fluff

words: 1.7k

warnings: realistic portrayals of college life lol

ive said before that im being self indulgent with posts

but this is really it

im really out here writing this

lets get into this mess

so youre studying right

and you yourself do not have a laptop of your own

bc welcome to being a broke college kid im calling myself out

so you decide that youre gonna go to the library on campus bc sis,, cash in on the tuition money ok

so you go and youre like wow hahahaha i dont have a library card better sign up for one

so you go to the desk and theres no one there

just your luck really

you decide to wander around a little to see if theres anyone who can help you

and low and behold you stumble across someone

this young man knelt down by a shelf with a book rack next to him just humming softly and organizing books

and you catch his attention by clearing your throat slightly

he looks up and his eyes are big over the rims of his wire framed glasses that are clinging to the tip of his round button nose

and his hair is a little mussed from being bent down

but holy hell

youve read enough novels to know that this must be exactly what the characters are talking about when they say things like ‘love at first sight’

“sorry” he says as he standcs and brushes himself off “can i help you with anything?”

starstruck really

you manage to stutter out something about needing to register for a library card and he smiles so kindly it makes u want to melt

“sure!’ he says, motioning for you to follow him back up to the desk

is this what a trance feels like???

he asks you a few basic questions, like your name, your age, and what building your dorm is in so he can put it all on your new nifty library card

and then he turns around this lil webcam on top of his computer and asks you to stand in front of it and smile

and you do, awkwardly

and as hes looking down at the computer counting “3, 2, 1” he has this smile on his face like hes trying to hide it

and if that didnt make ur heart jump you dont know what ever would holy

so he prints off your card as youre still trying to recover from being in the presence of an angel

and he hands it to you and smiles

“library hours are 8 am to 12 am every day, but on the weekends i’m the one that closes. which means if you ever need some extra time to finish that essay you pushed off,,, i wont tell anyone”

aND HE W I NK S

and not lot a hot wink

but a cute?? wink??? if thats possible

like you have a secret with him now and its safe

you wonder absently as you stare down at the black and white picture of yourself on the back of your new card if he tells everyone about him closing on the weekends

and if he doesnt does that make you special???/

you smile and thank him again, maybe a little more confidently than before and head for the door

you realise as youre halfway out that you came here to study on the computers but you really need some time to sit down and process the fact that you just say an actual angel

you can do your math homework on your phone for one more night if it means you can turn down your body heat from screaming blushing mess to slightly embarrassed rosy cheeks

the next time you get a chance to run by the library on campus, it just so happens to be sunday

you catch yourself wondering if dream boy meant friday and saturday or saturday and sunday when he said weekends

thats not important right now

what is important is that you have actual business to do in the library today

and that business is to pick up hamlet for your english class

you check in and someone else is at the front desk

you try not to let yourself feel disappointed

i mean you met him once for christs sake

the guy at the front is equally as attractive as dream boy from the previous week, but a little more relaxed to talk to since he isnt giving you any flirty subtones

the kid is all business really

he tells you that his name is doyoung if you need anything else

you ask how he got the job there, out of curiousity

because really, both of the librarians youve encountered seem pretty young for the standard librarian stereotype

doyoung explains that its a work-study job, so nearly all the people that work there are students at the university and work in between classes or on their off days to make some extra cash or pay off some tuition

and you can get behind that!!

so doyoung is cool and you decide you can go to him to ask questions instead

because while dream boy is a dream boy with pretty cheekbones and nice lips and a smooth voice and a good sense of style and a great height without insoles and looks great with glasses and has the most captivating eyes

hes a lil distracting lol

anyway you find yourself in the shakespearean section

and you grab a hamlet off the shelf and head back up to the front to have doyoung check the book out to you

and as hes handing you the book back you get a classroom notification saying that, despite common belief, the book rental wasnt due by tomorrow, but the whole book reading is due by tomorrow

you wonder how the fuck professors get away with shit like this and then you remember that you didnt bother to read the syllabus so you cant really get too mad at anyone but yourself

so you find a table that looks like it has the comfiest chairs and cozy up for a long evening of reading and annotating

(depending on who you are you either love or hate hamlet, either way it is exhausting to annotate anything from that man so bear with me ok)

five hours later and ⅔ of the annotations later it is 11:56pm

and you havent noticed

you hadnt noticed much of anything happening in the real world after you popped in a headphone and started reading about guards seeing a ghost

that is until someone plops down in the seat in front of you and asks

“so what are you studying”

and you look up, a little delayed because youre finishing a notation

only to find that its dream boy

and your brain blanks for a sec bc wow every time you see him its kinda like?? ouch???? my heart bro

so you just kind of shake your head and mutter some “im not really sure anymore”

and theres some truth to that!! first there were ghosts and now theres dead girlfriends dads and dead girlfriends and talking about a skull in a graveyard

that play is really a wild ride brother

and dream boy sits there and laughs, wholesomely

you could die happy

“yeah i get that” he says, rubbing the back of his neck

theres a pause that carries on a bit too long

“wanna hear a dumb joke?” he asks suddenly

you smile then, partially out of exhaustion and partially because wow?? cutie

“sure” you say

“okay. what do you call a nervous javelin thrower?”

you pause for a sec bc wtf

“dunno. what do you call them?”

he flashes this cute fucking grin that you know is supposed to be slick but just comes off as wholesome and says

“shakespeare”

and you shouldve seen that coming wow

and its so dumb that you actually??? giggle????? and that turns into a laugh??

youre probably just exhausted from annotations but maybe that was actually funny

and his smile softens like hes made progress on something

“y/n, right? i dont think i ever actually introduced myself. i’m jaehyun”

he smiles and reaches across the tabe and you take his hand

its warm and strong and you try not to think about it too hard

“well, y/n, library loses here in another two minutes or so.”

he sees the look on your face fall

“but never fear!” he leans forward and lowers his voice

you hold your breath

“i told ya you could stay, didnt i?”

his smile is closed lipped and cute and genuine

before you can say anything hes up and ushering the last few people out of the library, telling them good night and good luck with their classes tomorrow

youre kind of caught in a brain dead daze after finally being pulled from your studying to watching this cute librarian named jaehyun bustle around and lock doors and turn off lights

and when he finally gets back to you he clicks on the lamp on the table youre working at and sets a cup of coffee in front of you

he mustve made it as you were falling asleep with your eyes open

you thank him copiously before asking

“i thought you let everyone stay after hours when you closed”

he looks up over the rim of his mug with a surprised look in his eyes

he shakes his head as swallows the clearly too hot coffee

“not at all. most of the time i kick them out and study by myself.”

he blushes like its a confession and it makes you feel,,,, something

but you dont want to press

so you just reach out and offer your other headphone to him because if you dont know what to say then you can both enjoy some good study music

so he pulls out his homework for the night and the two of you sit there and study

you sip off your coffee occasionally and both of you nod your heads to the music playing in your ears

he hums along to the ones he knows and a thought skips across your mind

you could get used to this

(theres a 100000% chance there will be a part two to this)

#nct #nct imagines #nct x reader #jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #doyoung #nct doyoung #nct u #nct127 #librarian au #i love jaehyun #hes my closet bias #library.txt

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flameontheotherside · 5 years

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What I Learned About Demons

The mind is a powerful thing. Law of attraction too... But God trumps all because well he is God. You have to believe in something may it be "spirit" (I don't know what that is but heard of it), source, God, Buddha, Muhammed, etc. You need to have a belief in something because God (or whatever) will protect you from bullshit when you do spirit work.

Shielding and protection (prayers or spells) are very very helpful. I believe God is always in my heart to prevent them from intervening. I say the lords prayer often. I feel safer.

Demons do not like love or high vibrations.

So I've been playing a lot of high frequency sounds or positive up-lifting music again. Christian hymns or music sound corny to me. 🎶 🎼 Good music that is based on love is just as good and music is my life so... Yeah I've been in a shitty mood because of the fact I don't have a job or insurance anymore. However since I prayed I've had a few job offers this morning 🤞🏼😊 We are HUMAN. We are not perfect but God is. Fear-based energy is what they really feed on. Demons are sponges and suck you dry. You feel fatigued because they suck the life out of you and bully you so you feel tired all the time. 😏 They don't know love or healing. Also your beliefs are powerful. Like I said, if you believe they hate all things love then they will leave you alone.

I've had several demons try to attack me. They are like the assholes we have around us. 😔 They are mean spirits that love fear. Intense fear. It's kind of hard to stop being afraid at first. The belief in God in my heart keeps them away. Also my "protection" pendant is good. 😂 👌🏼 Im still going to get myself a cross. I've had to get got and angels to help.

I've seen a portal when I closed my eyes in prayer.

It was a circle portal that emmited light just like what you see on TV when the portal to heaven opens up when you die (if you believe in that) 😇I saw different colored angels carry spirits in to this portal. Just thier sillouet with out detail on what they look look. Just different bright colors literally carry them away. 😆 Crazy shit. Normally I would freak out but I needed to concentrate on chanting The Lords Prayer over and other. The air isn't thick when demons arent around. So the weight is lifted of my shoulders.

If you do spirit work you need something like that to protect you. Saying your prayers is no different than saying a spell. Food 🍲 for 💭 thought. Legit you need to believe in something that will 🤣 block bullshit may it be someone's negative energy (they can be enfluenced by demons too but that is kind of tricky) or demons trying to fuck you up. 😂 Demons cannot exist where there is love. It just makes perfect sense.

Keep the intention of communication with benevolence and not demons is the key. Also animals are good indicator. Odin is my baby. I noticed after I got my house protected, he's around me more often. If your dog barks or your cat refuses to be around you. Something is up. 😂 You better start praying!

😘 💞 💕 ❤️ Good morning I hope you have a great day!

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧Don’t forget to take a look at Erik’s blog ran by his amazing mom Dr Elisa Medhus. Lots of stuff about his afterlife and shit. channelingerik.com.

Submit a Twin Flame reading for free at TwinFlameMedium.Com and I provide detailed and lengthy readings starting at $5 per question at Store.TwinFlameMedium.Com

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mbergen · 4 years

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In the beginning of all this, I mentioned Tammy had 2 other nurse friends in New York City. This is one of them. Carrie Ann. She has a Very Special Story to tell. Tammy and Carrie met at Kindred Hospital in Peoria, and then they both worked for awhile at IVCH in Peru Illinois. Carrie is a Travel Nurse and her specialty is OB, Labor and Delivery. Carrie’s Day 1 of 21 started on March 28 2020. She is staying at the New Yorker in Manhattan and working at Jacobi Medical Center in the Bronx. This is so heart wrenching to read her posts. But she is telling how it is. These are story’s that should be told. Their are some doubters out their that just don’t realize what is truly going on in this world with this virus. The people in the New York City are fighting for survival. We need to know what these nurses and doctors and all personal are going through to help these people daily, …..and you might wonder…. why do they do it?…..It’s because they feel the need to help. They are answering the call that they are trained for….It’s their LOVE OF LIFE AND PEOPLE. So in this blog I will copy the words directly from Carries FB site…..These will all be her words……Preserved for us all….

So Lets Follow her for her 21 days fighting Covid-19 in New York City

CarrieAnn is at Chicago O’Hare International Airport. March 27 at 9:57 AM · Chicago, IL ·

I’ve said it before .. being a nurse isn’t what I do, it’s who I am. It’s not always a choice, it’s a calling, sometimes you don’t even understand it yourself. So in the words of my little brother, Im going to “bring my ass home”, but for now, let’s do this New York

Jacobi Medical Center

CarrieAnn March 28 at 6:39 PM ·

Day 1. Jacobi Medical Center. I’m overwhelmed and proud to be part of this group of nurses. Ps didn’t post this morning.

CarrieAnn March 28 at 6:52 PM ·

So I’ve decided I’m going to do something I don’t normally do, and I’m going to post about my days while I’m here..as much as I can by the time I make it to the end of the day. And it’s not going to be your average sugar coated filtered Facebook bs, I’m going to be raw and honest about what is happening here. Unfriend me now if you don’t want to know. Day 1 started with some uncertainty because it’s the first day. No one really knows what they’re doing. A bus shuttles us from the hotel to the hospitals we are assigned to. There was a group of us on our first day so we had a day of hospital orientation before heading to the floors tomorrow. While waiting at the elevators to go up to education the nurse escorting us answered her phone and started crying, asking the person to repeat what they’d just said.. then cried out, and sobbed. She walked away then came back and told us one of their educators just died from corona. On the bus back to the hotel at the end of Day 1 and I receive a text from a newer nurse, I think she’s been a nurse 4 years, she’s young, a lovely girl, and she was assigned to Elmhurst. She just got on her bus, and this is what her Day 1 will look like. PLEASE PRAY.

Mar 29 at 8:59AM

Day 2 in NYC. I am still at Jacobi Center and I’m in Labor & Delivery where we still have plenty of supplies.

The text from my friend about her first night at a different hospital.

“ER -one nurse taking care of FIVE intubated “sedated” possible positive covid patients. five to one, he was just running around trying to keep a BP going. they are out of ALL supplies… they’re out of pumps!? they had fentanyl/levo/propofol gtts with no pumps. they were titrating by the roller clamp. maxed out on vent settings, with sats in 70-80s and they were happy with that sat. patients coding every couple minutes. it’s a 50 bed ER, and they have over 200 patients in there right now. patients just stacked on top of each other and having to move stretchers around to just reach a patient in the back row. they made a tent morgue outside of the ER and it’s full already.”

Feeling thankful beyond words for my assignment today, and praying this nurse has peace in her heart and mind this morning when she lays down to sleep. Even just for a few hours. ♥️

March 29 at 9:08PM

Today I got my assignment, and thanked God above my whole walk to the labor and delivery unit. That group of nurses were so appreciative -so thankful that we’re here to help- I’ve never felt so appreciated walking onto a shift. They took me in as one of their own made me feel welcome and did not miss an opportunity to thank me, all day long.

The TV in the break room runs between ABC NBC CNN and Fox news all day long, trying to keep up with the latest with Covid while managing our patients.

Employees at the hospital were picketing outside the emergency room and I’m not even really sure why… The biggest complaint I hear is about having to use the N95 masks for a week before we can get a new one. They gave out small brown paper bags, like a lunch bag, to store it in.

The labor and delivery unit is dated, and not well laid out. The cabinets are falling off hinges with long mismatched screws holding them on, and there is paint chipping off most of the corners of walls, and along the ceilings. But it doesn’t change the overall feeling of optimism on this unit, and in the midst of everything going on all around us, we had a delivery of a healthy baby girl today.

Every nurse that got on the bus wore her day on her face, some spoke it in words, some look defeated. One cried. We talked about our day.. the good, and the bad, then finished the bus ride back with our acapella rendition of Joe Diffys John Deere Green. RIP Joe

March 30 at 7:02PM

Day3. Today I learned why Mondays get a bad rap. New York hospitals did that. It doesn’t matter how experienced or strong of a nurse you think you are, you’re not ready for this. I got there, took my assignment in triage, and the door didn’t stop revolving. Within the first hour all the triage beds were full and there was a line waiting. Some were belligerent and cussing demanding to be seen, some were tearful, all were scared. Everyone’s wearing masks and complaining of how hot they are. Management is visible, on the floor working, asking what you need, how they can help.

These women are coming in alone, leaving their husbands, sisters, moms- whoever brought them- in the waiting room as they are assessed and treated. If they stay they can have one support person, no trading off- ONE person, per patient, per stay…. WHEN THEY ARE HAVING A BABY. Or when they’re not. Some of these girls are miscarrying, or having a threatened miscarriage, and they have to pick the one person that can sit next to them, hug them, tell them it’s going to be okay. One person. Because of this virus. Oh, and when they do deliver, dad gets one hour to bond then they have to leave .. til mom goes home.

Covid in pregnant women is a hard thing to look at. She’s struggling to breath and her 02 sats are in the 70-80s. Do you know how much oxygen that means her baby is getting? She went to ICU. I didn’t have time to check and see how she was doing after she left our floor.

I also didn’t have time to eat, drink, or pee. I can feel my heartbeat in my feet after sitting down for 10 minutes on this bus, and don’t even feel sorry for myself because I had more help than the night shift I just left.

March 31 at 9:27PM

I wasn’t going to post words tonight, but just a picture. If you haven’t seen it, this isn’t some professional National Geographic wait for the perfect poignant shot picture. It’s a snapshot, taken with a phone, by a nurse, here, in New York City.

But then…

Ive always been a believer of “to each their own”. I’ve never had a hard time respecting someone’s opinion or beliefs without agreeing with them myself. And then today I find myself typing out the words “you’re a fucking idiot” in response to a strangers comment on a friends post. A stranger. Going on and on about how this virus is a hoax. Well-?! .. is he..? an IDIOT?? Are people that fn STUPID? I just hope..these individuals don’t end up with the virus themselves and need the medical attention and treatment from one of these doctors or nurses that read that shit. Because I think, for the first time in my life I would walk on by.

April 5 at 7:05 PM

Day 5 was mixed. I am sore and I am tired. My back hurts from being on my feet for 15 hours a day, and there are open spots on the back of both my ears from wearing a surgical mask over the N95, to try to make it last longer. You end every day with a headache from the tightness and pressure of the N95 on your face all day. We have two rooms just dedicated to corona virus rule outs on Labor and Delivery, and we are going to ICU to do fetal monitoring for positive moms. We constantly weave in and out of ambulances on the way to and from the hotel. I’m not complaining.

I was present and praising God at the beginning of 2 new lives today. The OB charge nurse called the 4 of us crisis nurses together n she stood up and told us that when she saw on the news that nurses were coming from all over the country to help in NY, she was emotional and touched. When she heard her hospital was getting 200 nurses, she was excited. But when we walked onto her unit to work, she couldn’t believe it. She thanked us with a sincerity that was raw and I will never forget.

Across town my friend Sid had a different day. When she text me I put my phone down and cried. You don’t even have to be there to feel the terror of that shift. Its not plateaued, and it’s not slowing down. Again, she is not at the same hospital I am.

****five codes… they all die. staff is so so rude and unhelpful. it’s such a toxic environment. my patient was one of them at 0630. my vent stopped working because it’s a damn portable and he’s been on it for three days. they refused to get him another one and said that they had to save them for other patients… I bagged him for a good 30-45 minutes without a peep valve and of course he started to decompensate. it was me and a resident and nobody would help, he coded and died. the bus has left me. I have to wait for a van to come get me. we are reusing code carts over and over, we have no oxygen on the unit, the low oxygen alarms are going off, we are out of sedation, we’re using pediatric pulse ox’s… i’m doing things that are just going against my morals and it’s so hard to see how these patients are going down. I do not think covid is killing these people, it’s the lack of staff, education, equipment and resources…. *****

And so now there’s that.

Oh, and my other friend here, that I came with, she was in the ER today, positive.

CarrieAnn April 3 at 8:07 PM ·

On day 7, the Midwest is looking really good. After a week here, working nonstop, you’re a different person. I miss home, miss my kids and I miss my husband, Joshua, who tried everything from arguing to pleading with me not to go-because he was worried about my health-but has been indescribably supportive, and encouraging me every day. I love you. Im irritable and emotional. Tears fell out of my eyes and right down onto my patients bed yesterday as I’m leaning over her doing all the things when we lost fetal heart tones. That’s not how I nurse, and has nevvver happened. I just couldn’t help it. The feeling of impending doom is heavy. There are numerous morgue trailers, morgue tents, and mobile morgue trucks all over the city. Ambulances constantly speeding by, lights on, horns blaring. Don’t miss the view from my patients labor room below. The hospitals here have now started ethical triage. That’s when families are simply told there are no ventilators to save your family member. Do they need a ventilator to survive? Yes? Then roll them over there to die. People over 65 have been denied ventilators to give it to a younger person who has a better chance. WHAT-? Many healthcare workers here are writing their last will and testament. New York has now initiated orders that first responders cannot transport people to hospitals if they cannot be revived on the field. They just don’t…even…take…them. Can you imagine, in our country, calling 911 because your wife can’t breath and they won’t even put her into the ambulance? Thousands of nurses, nurse practitioners and doctors have come to New York, and are risking their lives to help. NO ONE knows how they will respond to the virus..you may be okay, you may die. All you have to do is stay home. Or you could be standing in the emergency room hearing “I’m sorry but we don’t have a ventilator for your wife/son/daughter.” No bullshit. How bout the NYFD though, greeting nurses for our shift 🙌🏼❤️

CarrieAnn April 5 at 10:07 AM ·

Yesterday was day 8, and it was the closest representation of a “normal” day in labor and delivery. I had a 1:1 mag patient that I was able to give the appropriate amount of attention to, and I didn’t feel like running off the floor once. I’ve gotten a lot of support and kindness from the staff nurses here, and that makes a huge difference. There are 2 covid+ moms on the unit- these women are SICK- and we sectioned a mom that was in ICU because her oxygen was in the 80’s, and although she resisted having a c/s all day, insisting God would get her through it, her body couldn’t win out over the strain the virus was putting on it. Her baby was born alive and went to NICU.. but this unit continues to focus on life and beginnings. It’s upbeat- a small little bubble of happiness compared to the rest of this city. I also received a package from the best best friend, Lynn, with more “stuff” I couldn’t live without! Shaina, you’re a special kind of person, and I’ll never forget the N95s you had for yourself, but sent to me instead. ♥️ So I’ll use this opportunity to share some pics I’ve taken since I’ve been here..none too exciting, no touristy or cool things that one would want to see on their first trip to New York, but New York nonetheless.

Madison Square Garden

New Yorker, Carries Hotel

CarrieAnn April 5 at 3:02 PM ·

Live♥️ NYFD here showing love to the health care workers!

CarrieAnn Munson April 6 at 9:38 AM ·

Day 9….Yesterday was my 9th day in a row working in New York City. The NYFD came to Jacobi and showed the nurses and docs some love, and that was cool. L&D was slow so I was floated to PEDS, which isn’t pediatrics at all anymore. It’s now an adult med-surg with double occupancy rooms. Practically every patient is covid positive or covid rule-out. The stream of admissions literally doesn’t stop and I heard the charge nurse say I’m at maximum capacity now so what do I do- put 3 in a room? The mood is still upbeat. This charge nurse was joking and laughing, trying to keep his nurses light and moral high. One of the nurses in my group got onto the bus tearful, saying she lost one of the patients she’s taken care of since we arrived here. A 38 year old man, who left his wife and 10 year old son, and died alone because of quarantine. The things etched in our minds eye and memories are hard to explain in words, you just can’t understand it without seeing it. The people who are really sick go from bad to worse quickly, and recovery, if at all, is very slow. The few people that do get extubated, are still 100% dependent on BiPAP. For those who are intubated, more than half are on very strong medications to keep their blood pressure up. And still many of them are dying anyway, despite our best efforts. The most tragic part, is that they are alone. Staff uses their iPhones regularly so that families can use FaceTime to see their person one last time, and say goodbye. There are videos people are taking suggesting that the situation in New York is not as bad as the media projects. I don’t have the time to watch all the news right now, and I can agree that the streets, even around the hospitals, are not crowded. However, that is NOT an accurate depiction of where actual patient care is being provided. At least in Queens, and the Bronx.. even Manhattan, every department that cares for the critically ill is stretched way beyond normal capacity. I have been working with nurses and physicians, anesthesiologists, general surgeons, gynecologists, physician assistants, nurse practitioners, and nurse anesthetists, all of whom have been stepping in to do their best to function as intensive care and/or emergency medical providers. In the emergency room, there literally is no more room for additional stretchers, and those less ill are sitting in chairs, for hours and hours. This pandemic is real. The severity, which luckily doesn’t seem to impact the majority, is devastating for the minority. Please- distance yourself from others. Act like you have it, and everyone who doesn’t live with you has it too. You may get Covid, you may not. You may get really sick, you may not. But you could be the reason someone else does, without ever knowing.. and some of them are DYING. Dying with no family member there in their final moments…and that would be much worse than missing out on time with your friends, or not eating in your favorite restaurant.

CarrieAnn April 7 at 8:24 PM ·

Day 10….Yesterday was day 10. My friend was woken by a call on her room phone from the NYPD, saying there was a complaint against her and she needed to come to the police station for questioning. The officer told her he didn’t want to embarrass her so he would give her time to shower, and she could wear her street clothes (not scrubs) down to the lobby where he would meet her in 40 minutes, walk her out and cuff her before putting her into his car. She called home to fill them in and was told to call the police station back and ask questions. She learned that no officer had called her, no complaint had been filed against her, and no officer was coming to pick her up to take her to the police station for questioning. She notified our company who quickly made arrangements to move her, and make her non-registered. They are also making frequent checks on her. So not only are we fighting the virus, lack of sleep and hot meals, long hours on our feet, homesickness, death in our faces…. now we have to worry about abduction, or worse. W. T. F. Today was my 11th day working in New York. It was a good day. I was just a labor nurse, it was a nice pace, with wonderful fellow nurses, and a good delivery. God is present, and He is good. I am tired, and homesick, He knew I needed a day like this.

CarrieAnn April 9 at 6:04 AM ·

I have NO WORDS for the overwhelming feeling of gratitude and appreciation to each and every one of you- and I know who you are- that took the time out of your day -and money out of your wallet- to send me something here in New York to make my time easier. I’ll never forget it. ♥️♥️♥️

CarrieAnn April 9 at 7:03 PM ·

Day 13….Today was my 13th day here. Today we also had military nurses arrive at the hospital and assigned to the floor. It is an actual deployment for them. Today I started my shift counting the codes paged overhead, and just realized I stopped counting at 11, hours ago. Today we started swabbing all patients admitted to labor, regardless if they show symptoms or not. Have any of you had this done?..or seen it done?… if you haven’t yet, go ahead and search a video. The swab goes up your nostril all the way back, to your throat. Thrrroaat. Their eyes water and they try to stall, some women push the providers hands away over and over..and then they swab the other side. I miss home, and it feels so much longer than 2 weeks. But I have so much love and support from home..thanks again to all of you that sent me care packages, you can’t know how much of a difference it makes. And this unit continues to make each of us one of their own, embracing us more every day, with endless thank you’s. I still feel healthy, with no signs of illness, so I won’t be whining or complaining.

This is Carrie’s first 13 days. It is so hard to comprehend as we just sit here every day waiting for the days to pass. We see it on the news, but the reality does really have the full impact unless you know someone who is fighting the fight……Part 2 will follow her to DAY 21

Part 1….Carrie in New York….Tammy’s Friend….Coronavirus In the beginning of all this, I mentioned Tammy had 2 other nurse friends in New York City.

#Corona #Coronavirus #COVID-19 #Jacobi Medical Center #New York City #New Yorker #NYFD #Pandemic

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thekintsukuroikid · 7 years

Photo

November 12th 2017 4:11am

Tofino is never worrying about running out of battery life, or the gas tank. Or atm service charges.

It’s is an odd place. Living on the mainland you get hit with the same cold and rain and you learn pretty early on how to shelter yourself in the rat race, to keep busy until the clouds roll through. Tofino is this weird anomalous places where people travel here for the express reason of running headlong into the rainy cold. Duh, the waves are better for surfing and storm watching. It’s weird being this close to the ocean. You’re surrounded by it here, you can hear it from the dead middle of town. It’s dark, cold and can swallow you up, and yet here we are grabbing neon coloured boards and wearing goofy rubber suits and paddling away from shore. Standing up, riding it. There’s a metaphor there somewhere I think. A really lame one. Suffice to say Tofino is the setting where I’ve always been most comfortable with entertaining feelings of optimism, they linger in my mind a little bit longer here, there aren’t a lot of things here that can take them away. And yet standing here alone on this beach I still wonder what it would be like to walk into the water and let the water I love so much fill up my lungs. To finally feel the tension unclench and release.

A girl bought me a drink and told me how happy she was that everything about this place wasn’t like home.

I agreed.

this trip was really about running away.

The band getting to create beautiful music for people to enjoy on a Saturday night, Thats pretty amazing right?

I remember how hard learning 3 chords was and thinking how weird it must be to be able to do so much more but the peak of your musical ambition is playing for my drunk ass.

—

I met a girl at the merch table. She was kind and she was pretty and in our conversation about the logistics of fitting a surfboard on a motorcycle I noticed her biting her lip…and looking at mine…and exhibiting every universal sign I could think of to express a “shut the fuck up and let’s make out already” sentiment–

“All I could do was wonder how much she’d have to know about me, to hate me as much as I do.”

This isn’t me. I’m so tired of this

I’ve been diagnosed with clinical major depression.

atleast I think thats what its called, I kinda zoned out when I hear it.

I’ve known that somethings been wrong forever but I’ve never had it named by someone else before. I’ve never been in a position where I could go out and really do that. I’ve been getting help for months but this weekend was the first time I’ve been able to process it all. 2 doctor’s a therapist and a councillor. 4 different opinions. The same mdi-10 depression index score. How it works is, 20 is dysthemia or mild depression and 25+ is no bueno moderate depression. 30+ is major depression. I figured I’d be around 18-19 with my shiny psych degree and my practicing of mindfullness and understanding of CBT and readings of Dr. Marsha Linehan and Brené Brown.–-

I got a fucking 38.

Of all the fucking tests to ace I sure know how to pick em lol.

Talk therapy’s helped narrowed it down, where In reality I’ve likely been dealing with this for over a decade. I could have and likely should have gotten help when I was in early highschool/late middle school. The fact that I’ve never been on medication pretty deeply concerns my therapist. I still don’t know if I want the pills, I stare at the prescription sometimes and wonder what the sweet fuck I’m going to do. It’s hard to plan things in a pros and con’s type of scenario with brain altering chemicals, like its not like theres a frame of reference or anything. I’ve always been getting by with habits and discipline. Reading ahead, doing homework early in case I sleep through my classes again. Never letting anyone get close enough to be in a position to judge you. Never be vulnerable. You’re not cool enough to have baggage.

It’s not like I’m like this all of the time. I have good days, mostly when I’m around other people, even strangers. It’s when I’m by myself for too long that it starts to creep into my mind, a little voice getting progressively louder and more persuasive. I Have fun by remembering what it’s supposed to feel like and selling it to everyone who can see me. This isn’t the stereotypical 3am negative thoughts, I mean those happen too but its more like 3pm, in the middle of my group of friends laughing, just getting hit with this whole body feeling of dread and trying to crack a joke anyway. I then follow this with sullen, silent car rides home or 45 minutes sitting on the shower floor wondering if I’ll always feel this numb?

That’s the worst part…the numbness of it all. Losing hours in the day to this thing that I can’t even really describe. I never get mad or sad or happy just attenuated, dulled versions of these emotions. I’m scared of heights, like really fucking scared of heights but I learned to rock climb because fear hits me in such a meaningless way now. This is such a weirdly strong biological component. I feel like I can never move forward to create myself because I’m always looking back, trying to get back to how I used to feel. That’s the one thing I know is missing, that sense of self that guides my decision making. I’ve never been able to go with my gut, the kind of spontaneity and passion and creativity that comes with that, Instead Its always minimize the damage, lower the risk. I feel inadequate in every measurable and measurable way, to the point of it being physically crippling.

I’ve been really fucking good at hiding this. Its the thing I’m honestly the most proud of, which is a bit counterintuitive. It’s allowed me to flip something that feels so intrinsically selfish and allowed me to keep focus on the people that are important to me. It’s allowed me to learn some really important lessons about friendships and relationships, coping and empathy, all without the vulnerability of facing those things head on. Depression to me, at least the way that i’m doing it (which I know is the wrong way to think about it) is this selfishness I don’t want to indulge.

There is massive guilt with this. I have so much. I have taken so much time, love, energy, money from the people in my life and I feel like I am and I have so little to show for it. That I am a highlight in every worst way, of the differences between what is good and what is just nice. but the thing is I’m starting to realize that this thing, this depression thing it couldn’t give less of a shit about how you rationalize it, its taken better people than me, I’ve seen it first hand.

For me this thing hits two-fold. Its the physicality of these symptoms I can no longer ignore or fight through. Messed up eating schedules, sleeping too much or too little, missing classes, being late to events or appointments and just constantly feeling zoned out, in a daze.

On the mental side of it, its been management. I’ve been in a dark place for a long time and my diminishing ability for me to manage these mental health symptoms means that I feel increasingly less equipped to take on this complete feeling of stagnation. This shit takes work. It’s like im trying to carry a weight with broken arms and no cast. It’s a feeling that even if I had an opportunity, job or otherwise, I lack the tools and the self belief to actually be and do what I want. It is such a weird sensation to feel the slide from wondering how to make it by 30…to wondering about making it to 30.

I Try to work hard to be grateful and find the joy in things. I spend my days trying to bridge the gap between the humility of recognizing this reality, with the ego of thinking I deserve better. I mean maybe this is as good as it gets? Maybe some people just spiral. I hope that isn’t me, I don’t want to see how far this rabbit hole goes, I don’t want to become what its trying to make me become, I think thats why I work so hard to keep being extraverted. I try to be around my friends, especially if I know that they have it a lot worse or are facing a difficulty. Being empathetic to what they’re dealing with makes you feel like a bit of a daft jerk for dwelling your own bullshit. That used to keep things quiet long enough. Then again you don’t win a fight by closing your eyes.

—

I went to the bar in Tofino where I bought my first legal drink and I thought about all the drinks I’ve had since then. I got hit with this really intense feeling of dread. Not that I had wasted all that time in those 5 years, Worse still, That I’ve never truly had the ability to truly appreciate all the amazing things that have happened since then.

Even if I couldn’t feel it I wanted to do the logical work towards getting out of this. I learned really early on to focus not on building a resume but on building a eulogy. To live a life well lived. To do things not for the spoils but for the man I’d become in the pursuit.

In the 5 year since I’ve been back to Tofino, I’ve hated that man. I still hate him. I am so much of what I told myself I’d never be: alone, weak, and of little consequence. I’ve tried everything to fix that man and I still can’t explain where that process went wrong. I’ve tried to surround myself with people who I love. But never letting them get close enough love me because of a combination of never feeling like I deserved it and never wanting to be burned or betrayed for being vulnerable.

I don’t know if I can really get better I don’t really know what better is. But trying has to be better than this. Thats the funniest bit about this, I don’t even think I can really imagine what better would be like, what the absence of all this would feel like.

I just know that there is more than this…that maybe I can be more than this.

I was always ashamed to take. So I gave. It was not a virtue. It was a disguise.— Anaïs Nin, The Diary Of Anais Nin,

I want to make all of this mean something. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. I just know that I could set myself on fire to keep others warm. If I couldn’t feel wanted, or that I deserved to be wanted I could at least make people comfortable. I never knew there was a difference between happiness and the distraction from sadness. I would just connect to benevolence. I’d try volunteering, donating time and money partly because I enjoy those things, but deep down in a small way it was also an attempt to try reconciling the diminishing potential I felt. If I kept doing the right things, things would turn around, that I could out work this thing I was fighting. It was all just heading to nowhere, I realized I could get hit by a car tomorrow and nobody would know this truth about me, the uphill clawing. I think now I want to turn this pain into something tangible for myself and others.If this is rock bottom I want to look around, I want to carve my name in the rock beneath my feet and remember what this feels like. I never want to know it first hand again. Maybe this is that first step. Who the hell can see forever but maybe I can just win tomorrow.

— This is the most I’ve ever written about myself and it’s a hell of a lot more than I’ve ever wanted to. Hell it’s the most I’ve ever thought of myself and part of me feels like this sounds really self obsessed. But I think, at least I hope, it’s just a self awareness that comes from no longer seeing the contrasts in life.

If you are reading this it means that 1) you’ve found this randomly, and in which case… “sup?” or 2) you are one of the maybe 4 people I genuinely trust to tell this too without fear of being treated differently after doing it. If it is option 2…Surprise? I’ve worked extremely hard to make sure you couldn’t have seen this coming. It also means that you’ve shown me love implicitly in such a way that removes so much doubt, I hope you know how powerful and beautiful that is.

I don’t know man I think this is all really just about wanting to feel that oneness with myself again, to finally find peace one day. I don’t have to live, I get to, and I want too. The world is abhorrently beautiful man. daunting, ridiculous, backbreaking and gorgeous. I want to feel all of it, I want to find my place in it and I can’t do it alone. Not anymore.

Happy Birthday to me. ayeee.

#depression.#happy birthday #35mm #nikon #photography #photoessay #technicially #ironandwinereferences #lost in my mind

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edrecoveryprobs · 7 years

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RE: Anons (finally!!) 1-8

In this post:

#2: How to handle surgery-related diets

#4: our fave recovery blogs

#5: dealing with bullying about vitiligo

#8: Recovering through the transition to college + how to challenge romanticizing ED thoughts

[CW behavior mention]

1. hi, sorry to bother you but I'm nervous I might have an eating disorder? I've been hospitalized for malnutrition in the past, but I just wasn't eating enough. the behaviors now are like binge purge restrict so on so on. I've been eating about [x] calories a day now because I want to lose weight without binging/ purging. should i tell someone about this, or is this normal?

FAQ #3 but yes definitely tell someone who can help!

2. I have to have a endoscopy/colonoscopy in a few weeks, and the prep for it has me completely on edge. In order to have the procedure done, I have to eat a restricted diet for a week, not eat for [x amount of time], and then take a super powerful laxative. My doctor also recommended I go on a weight loss diet, even though I'm still at a healthy BMI. After being recovered for several years, I've been struggling with a relapse, and I'm afraid that this will push me over the edge. Any tips on how to deal?

Sorry this is so late! Here’s advice for anyone else in your situation.

First, tell your doctor! Ask which elements of this are most important, and which can be worked around. Your ED is a complicating condition, so they should really know about it -- they’re treating YOU, not just your colon.

Second, give your laxatives to someone you trust, preferably someone who lives with you. If you can, enlist their support with mealtimes as well. If you get really sad at the end of the meal bc you can feel yourself falling back into that old place, that’s okay. Have them remind you that this is temporary, and that food is not as black-and-white as your ED wants it to be. Cede responsibility for figuring out your intake to this trusted person. Also -- make sure no one lets you know your weight at any point! Perhaps they can tell you when you’re back at your normal weight but that’s it!! The less you can obsessively track, the better.

Third, get into therapy NOW. Once this diet is over and everything gets quiet is when the ED stuff really starts to hit. I find that usually my recovery phase is ½ as long as my restrictive phase if I’m in therapy, and 2x as long if I’m not.

Fourth, acknowledge that this is unusually difficult and that struggling with a difficult thing doesn’t negate all the work you’ve been doing for years. You’ve built a solid foundation that has a good chance of keeping you stable through this rough time, and even if that starts to crack you have those same foundation-building skills to get it back to good.

I hope things went well for you <3

3. your blog always makes me feel valid and safe. thank you.

You’re so welcome! I’m glad it helps <3

4. Hey!! Do you know of any other positive recovery blogs? Im too scared to look in the tags bc they're full of pro ana things :( I love your blog, thank you!!! ❤❤

Fyoured was my fave, idk if they’re still active though! There’s also scienceofeds but that’s mostly summarizing current medical literature on it. Edreocoverystarfish and clinicallydepressedpug are also great! You can also check out our reblog tag

5. I've been suffering from vitiligo practically my whole life and it's something that affects me both psychically and emotionally. My brother often makes fun of me because of it, his favourite name for me is ''Michael Jackson"

That’s so shitty of him. If it helps, siblings tend to be rather shitty as they’re growing up, because it usually takes like 15-20 years to learn the basic emotional skills it takes to really be there for someone you love. Some people (especially masculine-identified people because of the social penalties associated) take longer to learn or never do at all. That’s not your fault.

For what it’s worth, siblings tend to make fun of whatever your biggest insecurities are, because humans learn how to affect others’ emotions before they learn how to affect them positively. Mine was acne for a while, especially since I struggle with dermatillomania (skin-picking) -- my siblings would wait for a Papa John’s commercial of a pepperoni pizza, point to it, and say “hey look, it’s Selena! HA HA HA!!”. My sister was really insecure about her hair being parted exactly down the middle, so my other sister and I would make fun of her for that. What I mean to say is, it’s not about the vitiligo. It’s about your brother not having learned yet how to NOT be a rude little shit.

Also, there’s no absolute that different colored patches of skin are ugly or bad. Calico cats are so cute! Freckles are adorable! Winnie Harlow is so talented! Find reminders in your life and/or online that different isn’t bad, and that this difference can be jaw-droppingly gorgeous or heart-breakingly adorable or lovably cute. It’s all about how you wear it.

And finally, know that love is always a choice -- including self-love. Rather, it is a combination of tons of small choices. Am I treating myself with love? Do I talk to myself lovingly, the way I would talk to a friend who was in my situation? Do I appreciate what my skin does for me, pigment or no pigment? Am I cultivating a life full of things and people that validate that love? It’s hard at first, it always is, but once you start it becomes a really awesome habit. Here is a great place to start (adjust pronouns as appropriate).

Sending you lots of love <3

[CW poop mention]

6. Hi, this incredibly embarrassing, but I recently experienced some personal trauma and so I am having problems with eating... Mostly restrictive and the inability to swallow some foods. However, I am having some digestive problems, mostly issues with skid marks. I was wondering if this is common and if there is a remedy for it... This is the first time I have experienced something like this. Sorry.

First, I really honestly don’t think anyone goes through their life without ever getting skid marks lol so you’re not a freak at all. I get them from time to time and I don’t really have digestive problems. Usually it just means I need to eat more fiber or adjust the balance of my diet. Also, this might sound weird, but anal kegels might help! The anal ring is all muscles, after all, and if restricting is a problem then all muscles have probably atrophied a little bit, including those. And finally, it might just be bad toilet paper. There’s lots of kinds that are practically useless and turn into a pulpy mess instead of doing their damn job. If you’re at home, consider getting stronger toilet paper (2-ply etc) or carrying baby wipes in a purse or backpack. Black underwear can also help with the insecurity aspect.

7. I love your blog so much! It helps knowing what other people are going through while making it a little humorous. Stay awesome!!

:D will do!

[CW romanticizing relapse, negative body image] 8. I have been battling with my ed for [x amount of time] now. In [y]th grade I got so tiny, I felt so pretty. I had never been skinny until then. I gained a lot of weight from being on so many medications, and now I am at an average weight but I am so unhappy with my body. I still struggle with purging and skipping meals. I start college this fall and I am terrified that I am going to let ana control me since no one will notice. I just want to feel beautiful and I know I wont until I'm tiny…

Something I’ve been going through recently is trying to lovingly remind myself when these thoughts pop up: I’m not believing this stuff because it’s true, I believe it because I’m literally crazy. It’s somewhat counterintuitive, but those beliefs can really take ahold of you if you take them seriously. But it’s just a symptom of the mental illness you know you already have. It’s like if you were prone to visual or audial hallucinations -- they feel real. They look real. They sound real. Of course you’d believe there are lions chasing you right now, because all of the senses you usually trust are indicating that that’s true. But also, if you can use the knowledge you have to try to see past them, you can actually interact much better with your environment.

Facts: you feel unhappy with your body. You still struggle with disordered behaviors. You start college this fall. College represents a big challenge to your ability to keep ana under control.

Beliefs: I can’t feel good unless I am thin. I can’t help but do what my ED says. I must keep this all a secret. I can’t get any help.

In the past 5 years, there have been times you’ve felt happy. Even when you weren’t thin. State memory means it’s hard to think of times you’ve felt differently, but it’s just a fact about human brains that we can’t feel one feeling for very long without switching it up.

Also, I guarantee you that you weren’t happy then. It’s so easy to romanticize thinness -- we see thinness romanticized literally ad nauseam -- but it’s such an empty feeling to be stuck in your ED. It’s so hopeless. It feels so crappy to walk into a restaurant with your friends, to see them all laughing and having fun when all you can think about is how terrifying it is to order food and how much you want to run away. When I really think about how awful each moment is with an ED, how I’m constantly either freaking out about eating or dreading the next time I’ll have to eat, how I had to numb myself constantly because reality felt so bleak.... Thin just isn’t worth it.

And let’s be clear: thin isn’t pretty. It’s just thin. Thin people CAN be pretty, but so can people of size, and so can very muscular people, and so can people whose body shape is more average. And eating disorders will make you thin at the expense of everything your body needs to maintain itself. It’s like insisting that houses are only thin if they have columns out front, so you hack off the front door, peel off the siding, pry up all the furniture, and stack up this pile of garbage to make some columns. You’re better off with a column-less but functioning house than one full of holes and empty inside.

Before you get to college, look up the mental health resources. Sign up for counseling through your school ASAP!!! Counseling tends to fill up as midterms approach, so this way you’ll be covered in case things go downhill later. Also, TELL people you trust. This you must do even if everything in you screams not to, because everything in you will scream not to, because your ED brain is actually trying to kill you. The more trusted people you tell, the less you have to fight it on your own, and the more resources you have to fight it. ALSO, see if there is an ED support group or a body positivity group on campus. Being around people who can gently call out disordered thoughts is a huge relief! And finally, explore other things that make you feel beautiful. Some people like makeup, and seeing how much of appearance is just illusion. Some feel beautiful when they know that they are strong and agile. Experiment with your clothing. Cut or dye your hair. Now is the time to test out different styles, and those are so much more fun to work on than calorie counting.

Lastly, you have more to do than be tiny. Mice are tiny. 5 cent candies are tiny. Pinky toe nails are tiny. What can you do that’s new? That helps you learn? That’s helpful? That’s exciting? Ana ignores all of that because of an obsession with BEING one thing. But ana doesn’t know shit about all the weird, cool, funny, wild stuff you can do. Show her what she’s missing.

Best of luck to you, and if you find yourself struggling in college don’t be afraid to message us back. We’re here for you throughout your recovery process <3

#surgery #laxatives #recovery and college #vitiligo #fanmail #skid marks #anonymous #ask

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shockfemme · 5 years

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to kill the future in the present: Sade LaNay Interviews Jennif(f)er Tamayo

Content warning: This interview contains sensitive topics regarding racial violence

Sade LaNay: First I want to say thank you. I have been obsessed with your voice since 2015 when I read your lyric manifestos at Weird Sister. I remember those essays and Wet Land by Lucas de Lima breaking and opening in me, the process of crediting my work as an artist to myself and validating my self in the world.

It’s a gift to be able to talk to you about your chapbook, to kill the future in the present, a work that I find incredibly tender and generative. This is a text I can think and feel with. I’m inspired by the foundation you establish for a distinct poesy. This chapbook is mood, a heated conversation, the epitome of free writing, the kind of writing that bothers insecure people. Aesthetically, it’s like staring into the sun. It pulses with repressed feeling, the need to be held and the knowledge that our precarity is not rare.

Do you want to speak to the path you’ve been on creatively from that point in time to now?

Jennif(f)er Tamayo: thank you, Sade luv, for sharing that process of breaking/opening. it’s an honor to hear you say that. Lucas’s work also does that for me too -- his new book Tropical Sacrifice claims the lowly, (in)toxicated chicken as a kind of hero and I’m in love with its intensity, its “lyric power bottom” thrusting.

Something has been happening to me since that period of time you indexed, gracias a lxs diosxs!! From the outside in, it has appeared like less public writing, less public production, less ambient generosity with how I move through writing communities. From the inside, it has also meant more unlearning and untying toxic bonds to anti-Blackness that permeate through art/poetry spaces. Much of the change is indebted to the excessive and antagonistic performances of the Mongrel Coalition Against Gringpo, who inspired me to remain repulsed by and repulsive to whitened poetries. They spoiled so many of us <3 <3 <3

SL: Goddess, I miss MCAG. I miss the abundance of hope and creative energy I had then. I miss needing to write to survive, that is, to continue spiritually instead of needing to write to piece together a precarious material existence. I also think this is a time to sharpen every tool we can get our hands on.

JT: YeSSSS! I miss the way I would write poems that felt like fire in my mouth. But now, I want to sharpen that fire, to direct it more carefully. Specifically, what I want -- and this relates to your questions about creative paths -- is to write sentences with a clear enemy in mind. Or, better, to reorganize structures of sentencing for traveling in time. These are the same things to me.

SL: Will you explain what you mean by sentencing because I don’t want to assume? I think of my own anxiety regarding the sentence--how to move from the poetry I write which formally avoids the sentence and feeling inadequate about the act of placing sentences on a page one after another, having confidence that my ideas are successfully expressed.

JT: In to kill Ii had a story I wanted to tell, but first (and forevermore) I needed to address the formal and violent challenges that the sentence, as a structure, has reproduced at the level of being and knowing ourselves. The sentence-- as a familiarly enforced unit of expression and a unit to challenge/break/resist -- has so much to do with ideas of subjectivity, temporality and geography; the arrangement and duration of ?. Sentences are enf0rced and lived encl0sure committed to progress, straightness, capitalist accumulation...enforced enclosure... So I am seduced by the conditions of the sentence & the structures it reproduces & I have asthma & it has been getting worse & worse every year & with every new(ly) (in)toxicated place I move to & So, what about a ___________________ struggle for ___ body, in a more _______ way.

& the sentence is also a kind of sentencing. The carceral sentence that (en)traps and subjugates: the sentence was handed down today... and so on. These are related formations. I see my favoring of the sentence in this particular part of my creative life as a way of attending to the various mechanism that determines anti-Blackness as a way of living/writing. So I am carefully studying the sentencing of those poet-scholars I admire, like Sylvia Wynter and Frank Wilderson, III, who have diagramed the (im)possibilities of this foreclosure.

For all these reasons, the sentence and its ruptures are about precision. This is sentencing. I want no nervousness about what I am trying to articulate. This is hard work, and particularly with poetry; readers are so prepared to freely and wildly interpret you. But we know what this feeling of freedom portends...

SL: The connection between identity and theory is something that excites me about your writing in to kill the future in the present. Experiencing this style of writing from you emboldens me to confront my own fears of illegibility, unintelligibility. Due to that fear, I often restrict my writing to my experiences, my identity, things I can articulate confidently. The harder thing is to excavate from that writing a new way forward.

I think of Octavia Butler’s fiction. In Kindred, on her trips to the past, Dana is considered aberrant by whites and blacks because of her tone; her lack of accent and lack of affective deference to white supremacy. It’s a familiar struggle. As well as the labor of confronting experiences of being “too little to be little” with intimates, with therapy, with writing (other people’s and my own). Our bodies carry so much of what makes us tender and tinder, how are you staying soft, how are you keeping from combusting?

JT: I suppose to travel in time is to subject the self to a kind of disfigurement of consciousness. Butler literalizes this in Kindred. What does it look like to combust under the weight of too much body knowledge? Dana’s story always struck me as some kind of invitation and warning: tendered tinder.

Sade, I have wanted to combust. I have sensed that many of us need to burn for what we have inherited and continue to reproduce. I am speaking directly to non-Black non-Indigenous latinxs here. How have we constructed “brownness” to enable proximity and intimacy with whiteness? To enact anti-Blackness? For example, RAICES, the non-profit that is supporting families fight incarceration at the U.S./Mexico border raised close to 20 million dollars-- where was this material support for the “refugee ban”? Where is this material support for Black Lives Matter?

I think I save my tenderness and softness for my most beloveds, my best friends -- and I keep it private. It’s hard for me to talk about it in a place that will become public (like this one), because I want to safeguard it from those who will turn it into something it is not <3 But I do remember my therapist teaching me about the word “empathy” and it being like a fucking surprise to me. I mean, I have been grateful that my resentment and bitterness has sharpened me against this world’s bullshit, but I also want to be able to hold someone I love without a slight edge running through me. I know this because I have been held this way and it feels beautiful. I want to hold you that way, Sade.

For now, I guess, my tenderness has meant to continue. As in, continuing to live and to remain on earth despite the hopelessness and dejection I feel.

SL: I’ve been struggling with hopelessness this summer (and forever). Feeling so sick with it that it was hard to get out of bed for weeks at a time. My belief in my ability to escape institutional and intimate spaces and relationships rooted in and perpetuating white supremacy wavers drastically. After Dana is whipped for running away, she thinks of how “[n]othing in my education... had helped me escape” yet still teaches children on the plantation to read. In to kill, Moten reminds us “Escape is an activity, it is not an achievement.” I worry that fugitivity might last forever if I don’t know where I can escape to.

I’m getting ready to begin my first adjunct position, teaching at a state prison. Should we expect not to encounter freedom in our relationships and environments? Is resistance an everlasting condition of fugitivity?

JT: Moten seems to note this very thing: “you don't get escap ed ” -- the verb gestures toward forever. I am sorry for this. I am sorry. I am in a space of considering how my migration from South America fits into the pattern of predation -- how I am might be both the fugitive and/but the captor. The narrative of displaced non-black Latin American migrants leans very heavily toward salvation and redemption-- but what habits of anti-Blackness have me and my family brought with us in this “Latinx” Diaspora. We brought this shit with us too. And, more importantly, how were we, in some ways, escaping our own whiteness in coming to the States.

SL: What do you hear and/or imagine when I say “trauma informed care”? Currently, trauma informed care is geared toward getting a trauma’d body to function successfully within a body negating white supremacist jingocapitalist cisheteropatriarchy.

I want to say trauma informed care without intersectionality ain’t shit. Trauma informed care that doesn’t track racism’s permutations geographically and temporally is trash. Trauma informed care without abolishing “the various material and abstract enclosures that organize life within violence” is triage. For me to kill the future in the present is doing the labor of trauma informed care.

JT: Thank you for sharing this take on “trauma informed care” with me -- I was not familiar with it. But thinking with the caveats of your question, I am reminded of the critiques that have swirled around what has emerged around a “self-care industrial complex” As in, how might self-care alternate from community-care? And, how might self-care be complicated by different notions of the self personhood that require a broader set of parameters? As you say, “trauma informed care without intersectionality ain’t shit.”

I am also trying to sit with the feeling that maybe I don’t want to or I am afraid to “function successfully” in my body. In different words, I am curious about what opportunities for seeking justice are foreclosed to the healing body, particularly my non-Black, non-Indigenous healing body. I acknowledge the privilege that comes with saying this. And also acknowledge the discourse on “failure” that usually ensues from this line of thought (particularly in the academy). This is not what I am talking about.

So much of the therapeutic care I’ve experienced is about trying to work through my trauma and I am wondering about what it feels like to work with trauma. Because, to closely consider and study history is to attend to trauma on a massive, unfathomable scale. There is no working through but perhaps there is a working with. I am still trying to make myself tender to this particular historical, cosmic trauma, to let it prism through me, particularly in writing and performance.

SL: Yes yes yes. Time and trauma are unavoidable nonlinear energies that many of us are trying to navigate with a finite, needful body. Deciding to work with instead of through or even against those energies; my body precludes my participation in and cooperation with the myriad manifestations of white supremacist violence.

The voice of Nina Simone does the labor of trauma informed care for me, sonically manipulates time. Her performance at the Westbury Music Fair, fifty years ago, the day after Dr. King was gunned down, comprises the album ‘Nuff Said in which Nina alchemizes the poisonous present into a timeless and time-filled gift.

JT: “Timeless and time-filled gift” is such a precise way of describing Nina Simone’s performances and the way her voice refracts various temporalities. When she says, “Are you ready to smash white things,” at the 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival, reading from the poem “Are You Ready” by The Last Poets, I sense this timelessness. She is trying to tangle time so that her audience feels its pressures. The refrain “are you ready” scoots, ever-forward, the present experience of pain in-the-now. I am not this performance’s intended or primary audience but I have been beckoned by its registers and directions.

SL: I think of how resistance affected the arc of Nina’s life. The vibrancy of her performance of “To Be Young, Gifted and Black” at Morehouse in 1969 is subdued by 1988 in Hamburg. It doesn’t sit well to feel like the artists who live at the densest intersections; are most ardent in their resistance to white supremacy, will garner the least recognition and support while they are living. I don’t want more than I need. I don’t want the choices I make, in my art and life, to resist oppression to alienate me from relationships and resources. I don’t want death to seem more inviting than the present moment I’m surviving. I want 400 years of BLACK FEMME JUBILEE. The end of punitive debt and the distribution of wealth. What kind of reparative scaffolding do you want to see erected, in addition to “400 YEARS OF WHITE SILENCE”?

JT: Sade, this is a tough question and I don’t know if I am the one to attempt an answer. I am not sure my answers on reparations and scaffolding can be trusted. In “Decolonization is Not a Metaphor” Eve Tuck and K. Wayne Yang remind me that as an accomplice in a fight for Black and Indigenous justice, my “moves toward innocence” will be to try to reconcile and to rescue myself. (Am I doing it now?) The (first) item on the agenda: return Indigenous lands. The (first) item on the agenda: “end the war on black people.” This is not a sufficient answer to your question, but as I think and study, I have found that I need to keep these agendas stitched to my mind.

When I say, “400 YEARS OF WHITE SILENCE,” I am wondering if the fight begins with a move toward silence or, better, a certain kind of silencing-labor by those of us who have spoken for too long and who may not have a fucking clue what we are talking about. What does this silence or effort toward silence, as it relates to poetry and writing, feel like: less books by white(ned) people, less books by cis people, less books by non-Black latinxs, more writing that is not writing, more writing that is a kind research, writing that is caretaking, writing that is editing, writing that is being with ( as Alexis Pauline Gumbs has considered), writing that unequivocally centers the two primary demands on the table, writing that takes down/ breaks/up.

SL: In to kill the future in the present you redact the notes you take regarding the details about your crossing. Is this a self-preservative, protective measure? It feels like both a deliberate and reflexive gesture under eyes that “wouldn’t think we were so sane” when we tell our stories. Another way to manipulate time and sound through absence, the vacuum of inarticulation that trauma creates.

JT: In the past, I haven’t been careful enough to protect my family’s stories -- I haven’t always treated them with the honor they deserve. Through newer writing, I am trying to be more intentional with and protective of my storying. These stories may be “mine”-- as the saying goes in certain writerly traditions -- but they may not be mine to share in the way I do. I want to protect the power and magic they contain; they have been secretive for a reason. I’m learning that the hard way...

In another sense, the redaction was also a gesture of refusal. I refuse you the titillating story of our capture. Our detention. I refuse you the perverse pleasure you get from the details of our suffering. I refuse you the language, the articulation, the narrative, the coherence. You see lines of various length but the oral/aurality of it is withheld. It is trapped in my body, my mother’s body, through the telling. There was no way to tell this-- and I didn’t want to tell it, even if I could.

In the past few months, I was upset and disappointed to see the image of a crying child at the U.S./Mexico border traveling the internet (via a fundraiser) and then landing on the cover of Time magazine. What kind of work is this image doing for us? What habit of spectacle does it satisfy? I wondered whether the child could have given consent to be captured like this and how this image would impact her later...

Our appetite for images and narratives of suffering cannot continue to be the catalyst for our move toward action. Imagine if this was your child... NO. Narrative refusal, a kin to what Audra Simpson calls ethnographic refusal, attempts to retrain the kind of expectations for consuming and reproducing suffering.

SL: Final question, what are your pronouns? Mine are they/them/hers.

JT: My pronouns, currently, are she/her/hers. Also, I luv you.

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y01te-moved · 7 years

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im just gonna be really sad but Publicly because fuck everyone, dont bother reading under the cut if you dont know me or dont need to know some of my more complex and edgier/sadder feelings towards things like myself.

ok but here’s the thing i really dislike about myself;

i always do this thing where i accidentally get really forgiving towards people even when they’re being horrible people in general just because im worried about hurting that person’s feelings, but at that it costs me getting really sad and nervous and i feel like shit for it but i dont do anything to stop it, and its slowly getting at me and making it hard for me to be comfortable in social issues and its why i get extremely stressed out and scared and stuff when the slightest bit of social tension brews up around me. and i really wish id do something about it, cut off the clearly toxic people, actually fucking realize that someone is actually a really rude and horrible and shitty person, and say, “hey, you’re being awful, so im gonna have to cut you out of my life”. but i never do. never have. the only times ive successfully cut someone awful out of my life has been on accident and not because i actually did something. and its all because of my undying belief that some people truly are good and even if they’re being shitty they can still be better and you just gotta wait it out because you know they’re really not that bad and they’re still just a human being so you can’t be rude to them, and while that always seems like a good trait for fictional characters dammit is it awful to be like when you’ve gotta spend yet another day dealing with a bunch of toxic assholes whose only comedy consists of making fun of each other, and being negative as hell, and making horrible jokes about horrible things, and also contribute to my fear of not living up to standards as well as my now god awful self-esteem. but hey, they think we’re friends carrying out perfectly healthy and normal friendships so maybe we are and im just getting to worked up and triggered lol Xd. and not to mention the damn discourse im watching play out right now fuck. im not ready to accept the fact that someone doing a bunch of shit can really be that bad and its so fucking stupid on my part because im like the only person still holding onto any sort of hope for some asshole because i refuse to believe theyre truly a bad person in anyways and its fucking me up a lot and i just dont know what the hell is wrong with me i just know im being so shitty because im gonna fuck up everything just because i couldnt let a few damn people go and get the hell out of my life because i cant accept that shit friends arent actually friends anymore. and thats what i hate about myself. im too damn forgiving, even and especially when i have no reason to be, no argument to prove they deserve anything from me, and so i continue pressing forward with feelings and thoughts that i shouldnt be having just because i’d rather let myself feel really really bad instead of having someone else have their feelings hurt just a bit.

#its 12:30 and im getting those late night thoughts so #oh boy its venting hour with everybody's (least) favorite blookster #bloook why #i almost cried a few times while making this im so weak #usually discord is more chill and therefore a better place to be on than skype with all my asshole 'friends' but now discord's worse

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oxfordeliterp · 7 years

Photo

CONGRATULATIONS, PEYTON!

You have been accepted to play the role of LANA CHAMBERS with the faceclaim of IM JINAH. Please create your account and send it to the main in the next 24 hours. I know that there was no other application for this role, but even if it were, I can’t imagine anybody being able to capture who Lana is as a person better than you did. The application is immaculate, beginning to end, and you are clear proof of not only a talented writer, who twists words around with incredible skill, but also an amazing, vivid story-teller. Your paragraph sample caged my heart and it is yours forever, for you developed, with just the right amount of humor and snark, a balanced dynamic that I would sell my soul to read more of. Maybe soon. Anyway, I cannot wait to see the things Lana has to do that keep her too busy for love, for she already is such an asset and I believe you’ve only begun unfolding her.

OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION

Name and pronouns: Peyton, they/them pronouns

Age: 19

Time-zone: EST/-5 GMT

Activity level: It’s actually the end of the semester for me so I have a lot of free time! I’d give myself a 7/10 though because I do have a job, but with summer right around the corner I’d love to get back into roleplaying.

Triggers: None!

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Desired character: Lana Theodora Chambers

I love Lana because she is more than the stereotypical mean girl trope, having many hidden layers that make her only more complex. She’s unassuming with her background and scholarship, yet a shark in the water that no one at Oxford could have ever prepared for. She’s smart, witty, and acts like the ground is blessed the moment she walks on it. I admired the fact that Lana is so great and unapologetic about it because I believe there needs to be more female characters like that. A character like her is so important as she stays true to herself (even if she isn’t the most moral human being) and breaks the stereotypes that come with her kind of character. Gender and pronouns of the character: Cis female. She/her/hers. A crystal clear idea of what is meant to be masculine and what is meant to be feminine was ingrained in her from a young age. With her parents holding their more traditional beliefs, sons were celebrated, considered to be a great honor and cherished by their families, while daughters were but a small happiness. As the only child of the Chambers family, there was extra pressure for Lana to prove that she is a child to be proud of and oh how she has rubbed it in their faces.

Changes: I was just wondering if I could change her faceclaim to Im Jinah?

Traits: a m b i t c h i o u s → To say Lana aspires to be at the top would be a severe understatement. If she wants something, she fights tooth and nail and takes it. One thing people can say about Lana is that she has the uncanny ability to never give up. She’s worked too hard, put in too much effort to allow herself to slip now. In her hungry, unyielding eyes, she has yet to take everything the world owes her. When she’s surrounded by those who get whatever they want served to them on a silver platter, her perseverance and her determination will bring her on top of all of them. i n t e l l i g e n t → She learned four languages by the time she was seventeen. Auditoriums full of people would applaud after she played during her piano recital. Her poetry left those in awe as the words flourished, dripping down her chin like honey. She’d leave teachers singing her praise as she excelled academically, top of her class in every class, and captain of as many clubs she could be in. It’s impossible to deny that Lana has an impressive mind and may be one of the brightest girls of her age. Although she does not stand out quite as much in Oxford as she did back home, she isn’t going to let that inhibit her showing off her intellect in any way. She’s worked three times as hard as the rest of them and she’s going to prove her worth. r a t i o n a l → Lana is a fairly realistic thinking person. She’s goal orientated while keeping the important things the same. When she’s angry there are no fires burning down forests, and when she’s upset there are no oceans flooding cities. She watches Gwendolyn and her other peers and sees them for what they are– entitled dreamers without a care in the world. She’s the first to come up with a solution under pressure, the one to go to for guidance if she is willing to give you it, the one who keeps going despite any hardships. Lana is the type who appears to never lose her cool or allow herself to get carried away, if her head is in the clouds then she will lose sight of the path she’s been taking, both feet on the ground. i n s e n s i t i v e → To put it plainly, Lana cares for few people, and none of her peers at Oxford have proved show they are worth caring about. She’s got a tongue sharp as a whip and has no problem cutting even those she is friendly with down to size. She didn’t get into Oxford University on scholarship to make friends or to try and turn herself around. Her whole life has been taking what is rightfully hers, leaving bodies in her self righteous wake as she adamantly bulldozes her way forward. From what she knows, and she knows a lot, the world is a cruel place. Call her a cynic, call her immoral, call her a heartless bitch, she’ll just examine her nails and ask if you said anything important. i c y → If Gwendolyn is fire then Lana is ice, cold and calculating just like the slow touch of winter. She is fresh fallen snow, beautiful but it’s best if you do not touch. She’s the type of person to stare at you blankly when you approach her, not so patiently waiting until you walk away if you take too long to get to the point. Lana can ignore someone or rip their head off if they made the wrong move and honestly it’s impossible to tell which reaction she will go for. She is cold and harsh and comes off as someone who cares for so little it’s actually fairly alarming. c o n t r o l l i n g → It is no mystery that Lana loathes being held back and makes her own rules as if it is her own divine right. The moment she walks into the room she radiates power, and like so many others, said power goes right to her head leading her to be controlling and manipulative. She’s extremely perceptive and will store up gossip while oozing charisma that leaves people in awe the moment she opens her mouth. Lana is self serving and power hungry and will not allow anyone to stand in her way or let them inhibit her with their own issues. No exceptions.

Extras:

headcanons.

She’s actually changed her major quite a few times upon getting accepted into Oxford. From political science major to mathematics major to classical studies to biomedical engineering, Lana was actually unsure what she wanted to do. With such a brilliant mind she knew she was perfectly capable of doing just about anything. Finally, she has settled on pursuing a law degree and got into Oxford’s graduate program with flying colors.

Lana is an excellent dancer. While she enjoys many of her extra curricular activities, she’s been attending classes since she was little and it has a special place in her heart. With a ponytail tied tightly on top of her head, she would walk in with the same air of authority she has to this day. Unlike what her personality and appearance may give off, she loves ballet with a passion (although she occasionally she does contemporary dance as well), she can practice it for hours and relieve her stress that way. Her routines are impressive, like everything else she does, and when she was small her dream was to be a dancer.

Her father had left the family when she was too young to remember, not that she cares if he ever comes across her mind. It isn’t something she’s supposed to feel guilty over all and she barely remembers him. Her entire life has been her, her mother, and grandmother all under one roof. Her halmeoni was born and raised in South Korea, and is a big inspiration for Lana as she is a proud woman who takes no shit and goes right for the jugular. Lana loves her and hates her at the same time, mostly because their temperaments are so similar. Her mother is not negligent, albeit distant from her one and only daughter. She’s worked everyday during Lana’s childhood in order to make ends meet. The dynamic between the three of them is not very close, but still they’re family and one thing she took away from her upbringing was how your own blood trumps everything else.

Lana is bisexual, with no particular preference for one or the other. She does get around, however, as human contact is important for the mind and she knows that. She doesn’t have the time or optimism for anything long term though.

here’s some incorrect quotes for lana because they made me laugh.

lana: gwendolyn and i have the kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other’s- gwendolyn: sentences lana: please don’t interrupt me

nicohlas: you read my diary? lana: at first, i didn’t realize it was your diary. i thought it was a very sad, handwritten book

jacob: you’re probably one of those beautiful women that don’t even know it lana: no, i know it

lana: sophia, thanks for agreeing to see me sophia: i didn’t, you just walked in and started talking lana: i don’t have time for a history lesson

jacob: can we talk, one ten to another? lana: i’m an eleven, but continue

also here is a pinterest board for lana!

PARA SAMPLE

Lana pools her hands into her bag for the pack of Marlboro reds, her mother’s words echoing in her head as she does so. That stuff’s poison, the more you smoke the more you’re killing yourself and me. She knows it’s a bad habit and she tells herself she’ll break it by the she graduates. Realistically, cigarettes don’t have an adverse affect on your health if you only smoke them for a few years. Besides, with Sophia failing to get back to her, she needed something to take the edge off. There was always some sort of edge to Lana, in her voice, her body language, her opinions, she supposed was always sort of high strung (or as she preferred to think, high maintenance).

She didn’t think there was anything wrong with it, she wasn’t out at parties snorting angel dust in the bathroom, craving a constant high she couldn’t handle the harshness of reality. She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t like them. Life is tough but so is she, tougher than anyone else she knew. A little self medication here and there so she could stay focused and grounded was not something to feel ashamed about. Lana was more concerned with the consequences if people found out, if the perfect ice queen turned out to not be so perfect. She couldn’t allow the scholarship she fought so viciously for to slip through her fingers like sand.

“Thank god.” She mutters under her breath, pulling the carton out, finding a lighter already nestled in between the cancer sticks. The flame erupts and she watches it briefly, before bringing a cigarette to her lips and lighting it. Lana feels the smoke enter her body, swirling around her lungs, before exhaling out the open window. Oxford University on a Friday night meant parties and the rich’s definition of mischief, something she wanted no part of. She leans on the window sill, eyes ice skating around her view of the campus. Drunk students stumbling around, party music blasting in the distance, and lights flickering all around, she couldn’t believe this was an esteemed private school sometimes.

Lana looks at the cigarette for a moment, letting it burn. She could think of something poetic here, something deeper and better than the thousands of bland male writers that describe how a woman is like a cigarette. It’s familiar and she can’t quite put her finger on it until her mind goes back to her tan, witty but not as witty as her, Romeo.

Perhaps not Romeo. Things did not end well for him and he was too much of a cliché for Lana’s liking. Anyone could be a romantic these days.

The homecoming ball was an event she reveled in, enjoying dressing herself up and enhancing the beauty she already possessed. Although there was only so much of Gwendolyn’s rambling that Lana could listen to before needing a break, causing the girl to escape and find solace on the marble steps of the building and curbing her nicotine craving. The architecture taking her breath away as she sat in blissful silence– until she was rudely interrupted by a handsome stranger. Not that handsome was that much of a compliment, he was conventionally attractive after all.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

“Depends. What’s in it for me?”

“A stimulating conversation.”

“Stimulating? I’m already starting to fall asleep, pretty boy.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

She was amused, something that was near impossible for anyone to do. Yet, as he sat down next to her she found herself to be more welcoming than usual. After much contemplation, Lana figures it was the champagne that had caused her to be friendly to the boy. There wasn’t anyone worthwhile at Oxford, no one that would come across her mind once or twice. None of the boys there were King Midas, she was golden without their touch. The girls were more tolerable, though ultimately just as entitled.

“These things are such bullshit.”

I rather like them.

“They’re just another way for the entitled elitists around here to prance around like everyone cares about their Dior suits and Versace bags. The champagne’s good, though.”

“I thought all girls liked Versace.”

“I thought boys thought of girls to be something more than their clothes.”

“Of course. We care about what’s underneath.”

“You’re a neanderthal.”

Despite herself, he had made Lana laugh. She allowed herself to get lost in the moment for once. He had this charisma to him and she found herself being pulled deeper into the water until she was drowning in the conversation. They talked about school and philosophy and this and that. Not that it got personal– Lana had the ability to make people feel as if they knew a lot about her without giving away any secrets. A lost and nosy Gwendolyn had found the two and she had to deal with the same warning the leader had told them since she was recruited into the Quarrel Club, stay away from the Riot Club.

She remembers leaving her half lit cigarette by his side as she was ushered back inside. Not that it mattered now. They didn’t even exchange names and perfect strangers came and went. Her grandmother always told her to stay away from things like love, and to focus on her future because she was going to be something great and couldn’t afford any distractions. Lana was convinced she’d never allow anyone to get close to her. She had things to do.

#lana chambers #accepted

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sternenkrone-blog · 5 years

Text

Wyatt crosses the threshold like a whirlwind. His face is pale, a sickly ash paired with something in his eyes that speaks of plain horror. In his arms, he carries a bundle of blankets. A moving bundle of blankets. He brushes past Lysander without a word, heading straight into the living room. The last time he’s seen his brother like this, their father had raised his hand against Lysander for the first time out in the open. The same look of shock, the same fear that goes bone-deep. But there’s no anger woven through this time. Only the face of a scared boy.

“Did something happen?” Lysander asks softly as he takes a seat next to Wyatt. His eyes are fixed on the bundle in his lap – which still writhes. Here Lysander thought maybe he’d imagined that. Wyatt bites his lip. There are dark circles under his eyes, almost as though they’re bruises. But his eyes are reddened, blood vessels popped the way they do when he doesn’t sleep well and goes to work trying not to fall asleep. He nods, a little frantic, and winces when Lysander raises a hand to place it between his shoulder blades. “I think I’m losing it,” he whispers, and his voice shakes. Lysander furrows his brows. “Losing it?” “It’s,” Wyatt begins and slips a hand into the bundle on his lap. It makes a sound between a purr and a satisfied grunt. “The other day, I was… we were having dinner. The boys and I. And Sicheng was hogging the cucumber salad, and I – I didn’t wanna get up and get it, but he wasn’t listening ‘cause he was talking to – anyway, I wanted that salad and I was really annoyed and suddenly the bowl stood right in front of me. Just. Gone. Like… “ He licks his lips. Runs his free hand through his hair, unstyled like it seldom is. Turning his head, he gives Lysander a brief look as though he tries to gauge his reaction but doesn’t have the heart to stay for the result. Lysander’s chest tightens at the sight. “And that… happened again, a few days later. So I sat down and… and… “ His eyes drift away to the scented candle sitting on the coffee table. He extends his free hand, frowns, and from one second to the next, the candle sits snugly in his palm. Lysander’s mouth drops open. “You saw that, right?” Wyatt asks, staring at Lysander again. “I told the others, but they didn’t notice shit, and told me I needed to take a nap or something. But I don’t need a damn nap. Please, tell me you saw that.” Quickly, Lysander nods. “I saw that, yes. You moved the candle without actually moving it.” Wyatt lets out a breath that sounds uncharacteristically relieved. He puts the candle away and leans back, shoulders slumping. “You saw it. Thank god.” The bundle in his lap makes the same noise as before, still writhing under the heap of blankets. This is the exact definition of a deja vu. When Lysander’s magic first manifested, it started out with tiny things, too. Turning on the electric kettle from his spot on the couch, switching off the light without having to physically do it. He’d chalked it up to being forgetful at first, to having done everything the way it’s supposed to and simply forgetting about it. But Wyatt is acutely aware of what’s happening, albeit scared of it. To think he would possess the same powers Lysander does is beyond odd. He’d thought him to be fully human. Touch gentle, he brings his hand up to run it through the hairs on the back of Wyatt’s head. Wyatt melts into it, leans to the side to settle his weight against Lysander’s shoulder. When he speaks again, his eyes have drifted closed. “But that’s not the weirdest part.” He unpacks the bundle on his lap, all careful and slow. There, in between soft fabric sits a small animal, a puppy with golden fur and a mane like a lion. It yips and shivers and tries to burrow back into the blanket. Wyatt curves a palm around its head. It nuzzles into it an instant. “Wyatt,” Lysander whispers, gaze fixed on the puppy. “Is that –” “So you can see him?” Wyatt interrupts him. He straightens in his seat, curling his fingers under the puppy’s chin. “None of the others can. That’s weird, right? How can that be?” Lysander doesn’t have an answer. This puppy, this tiny bundle of fur, is a product of Wyatt’s magic – that much he is sure of. But why would it be invisible to other people? And, more importantly, why does he see it, then? Tentative at first, he reaches out to let the puppy sniff his fingers. It looks up at him with wide, crimson-red eyes and wags its tail. Wyatt watches, looking from Lysander to the puppy and back. “He… says you smell nice.” “Oh.” Lysander’s face softens. He rubs a finger over the puppy’s nose, then scratches it gently behind its perky ears. “Thank you, little one.” Wyatt still looks beyond spooked, but some of the tension has left his body. It’s easy to imagine what he went through. Discovering all of this and having nobody believe him takes a toll even on someone like him, usually so full of confidence and wit. He seems much younger like this. More innocent. “How… did you get him?” Lysander asks after a short stretch of silence, and it makes Wyatt curl in on himself a little. He takes a deep breath, as though to steel himself. “I went to bed early yesterday ‘cause I was feeling like shit. When I woke up in the middle of the night, he was… right there. Sleeping next to me. So I just went back to sleep. I still felt like ass and was pretty sure I was dreaming. But then he woke me up, licking my face all over. And when I went to tell the others, they didn’t believe me. ‘Cause they can’t see him.” He marks a pause, brows knitting together. “He… talks. That’s… super weird, right? But only I can hear him. I don’t know what’s happening, Lys.” Lysander brings his hands up to Wyatt’s face to cup it. “That’s all right, little brother. I do.” “Y-you do?” Wyatt’s eyes go wide. “It’s nothing terrible, I promise. You’re not crazy.” As he speaks, he calls for Almond over their rapport, and he appears like he always does with a quiet poof, perching himself atop Lysander’s shoulder. Immediately, Wyatt recoils. “What –” “He’s my familiar,” Lysander answers before Wyat finishes his question. “My… well, we’re connected. He speaks, too, but only I can hear it. I, and other familiars.” Cooing, Almond jumps down from Lysander’s shoulder to sniff curiously at the puppy.Who’s he? He’s tiny! Whatever the puppy responds makes Almond burst into giggles. “I still don’t get it,” says Wyatt with a frown, and he sounds so lost that all Lysander wants to do is pull him close and hug him. But he resists the urge, too determined to clear that confusion. “This’ll be a lot to take in,” he says, folding his hands in his lap. “And I know what it sounds like. I didn’t want to believe it at first, either.” This time, it’s he who takes a deep breath. “I’m a witch, Wyatt. And I think you are, too. These things happening to you? It’s your magic manifesting. And this little guy,” he gestures towards the puppy, “is your familiar.” As expected, Wyatt gapes for a long, long moment, before he says, slowly, “You’re a… witch. Like… like in the movies? Potions and spells and… “ Lysander nods. “Yes. And no. It’s… a little different, I think. But I do work spells, and I do know how to make potions. I’m still starting out, but it’s getting there.” And just like that, a weight lifts from Lysander’s chest. How many times did he try to work up the courage to tell Wyatt this? How many times did he start, fully intending to stop hiding the truth, only to get scared at the very last second? Wyatt is difficult, after all. Ignorant in many ways, even if he doesn’t seem too conscious of it. He has his beliefs and his opinions, most of them formed by their close-minded parents, and changing them is like pulling teeth. So Lysander steels himself for a comment that may cut deep, may hurt. Instead, Wyatt nods, mouth still hanging open. “And I’m… like that, too? But why didn’t I know before? Why now?” “I’m not sure. My magic didn’t come around until a few months ago, either. So –” “A few months ago? You’ve been a – a witch or whatever all this time and you didn’t tell me?” A laugh slips out of Lysander’s mouth, dry and void of humor. “How was I supposed to do that? How do you just tell someone this? I’m still learning, myself. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to believe it. I’m sorry, Wyatt. I wanted to tell you sooner, I really did.” Wyatt falls silent again. Pets the puppy, who has since started cuddling with Almond, like he did before, and then says, “I… need to think about this. Can you… can you take care of him for a while? Just… I don’t know.” The puppy startles with Wyatt moving to get up, yipping at him. “Wyatt, please. He’s your familiar. You can’t –” “I don’t – care right now, okay? I need to… this is too much.” He’s on his feet before Lysander has a chance to stop him, out of the door before he gets another word in. A part of Lysander isn’t surprised, not about the reaction and not about how much it smarts, but another wishes that, for once, Wyatt would have changed. He looks down at the puppy – Wyatt’s familiar – and sighs. Almond licks the puppy all over in a means to soothe it, but it only makes the quiet whines that come out of its tiny snout louder, more miserable. Lysander grabs his phone and sends an emergency text Qiaomeng’s way. He, hopefully, will know what to do.

#❝ a movie called life // lysander stories.#❝ a movie called life // wyatt stories.#abuse /

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