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aeirithgainsborough · 5 years

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very Important adam/ronan things to take away from the cdth sampler:

“like the other lynch brothers, he was a regular churchgoer, but most people assumed he played for the other team.” i am SCREAMING. top tier gay joke. well timed.

everyone: ronan’s eyes aren’t pretty. adam: mhmm e y e l a s h e s

much to say about the revelation that ronan is partly at the barns to keep his dreams hidden and in check, and how much he relates an inability to change and be like everyone else to having to stay there. almost like he’s stuck huh! i’ve been saying!!

of note that words used to describe ronan’s existence are BORED and MALINGERED.

fingers crossed he finds some balance between his dreams and his wants/needs that allows him to leave the barns and grow but after the Great Crab Disaster I’M WORRIED.

fire imagery EVERYWHERE. i’m WORRIED again.

“there are stains that spread faster than you drive. if you drive, it’ll take fourteen years to get there. seventeen. forty. one hundred. we’ll be driving to your funeral by the end.” good to know ronan is still the most DRAMATIC boy in the whole of virginia. absolutely no chill.

dont like the possible foreshadowing of that driving to your funeral by the end, though. must leave lynches alone!

“it’s very safe” asjkajjka DECLAN PLEASE

“ronan kicked one of the volvo’s tires” asjkajjka RONAN PLEASE.

ronan trying to act nonchalant by cramming chocolate covered peanuts into his mouth and choking a little is Peak Disaster Gay.

matthew’s music must be awful if ronan and declan are in agreement over it, must have playlist.

ronan who lives to pretend he doesn’t care wondering if his brothers didn’t say anything about his moving because it didn’t make a difference to them is huhhh. don’t like it, take it away pls.

i’m sorry, ENTIRELY WRAPPED UP IN! ENTIRELY!

entirely

wrapped

shut up!!!! shut upppppp!

“is there any version of you that could come with me to cambridge?” tbh nothing would have readied me for this. adam i-can-do-everything-alone asking ronan if he could go with him. so much growth, too much pride, nowhere to put it, send help.

the fact that ronan doesn’t stay in cambridge when he visits adam because of plausible deniability, that if he doesn’t try there’s no evidence he can’t make it there. rip.

ronan! missed! him! like! a! lung!

dramatic again, but entirely relatable bc damn, same ronan, same.

a) ronan thinking about how his heartbeat is the same as everyone else’s so he wasn’t that different and b) JUST LIKE ADAM’S HEART WHEN HIS HEAD WAS RESTING ON HIS HEAD = much too much to think about. need to lie down for a bit.

he could move to follow the guy he loved!! we all knew it was love, we’ve always known it was love, but! the words. the words!!!!! brb sobbing.

i have only had jordan for a day and a half but if anything happened to her i would kill everyone in this room and then myself. 11/10 would marry.

art forgery plot confirmed!

THIS WAS HOW IT HAD BEGUN

bitch fkajdkajksja GIVE ME A WARNING.

still can’t compose myself RE the info that ronan saw adam and immediately sent a desperate prayer up to god

will the word please ever be the same again? definitely not!

adam’s arms adam’s hands his lovely! boyish! hands!

the description of his expressions with all its contradictions and multitudes is just my favourite thing ever. it encapsulates everything i love about adam fucking parrish.

and the fact that ronan instantly recognised all those multitudes in him. there was always a level of understanding ronan had for adam throughout trc that no one else did and this tells us he had that before he even met him, he just... recognised something in him i just... ;______;

please

ronan knowing all the harvard stats because he was the person adam could crow to, how he takes on that adam that is still full of contradictions and multitudes, how he finds it hard but he absorbs all the facts and all of adam’s anxieties, even in the face of his own anxieties about adam leaving and falling in love with the shining, educated people that ronan thinks are better than him. that absolute, unwavering support 😭😭😭

tbh there’s a whole ass lot to unpack in this section so imma try and do it briefly (she says!)

ronan lynch is a romantic cdth confirmed:

he could have texted adam but he liked the soft surprise of it

over the past few days ronan had played his reunion with adam over in his head MANY TIMES

adam i love you but that outfit sounds awful. you are a student, it’s a friday night, put some sweats on and stuff some cheetos in your mouth.

the sweet nervousness of their reunion, how they walk past each other and both seem so uncertain. they’re a year into dating and the still get nervous and unsure after a few weeks apart and it’s CUTE and definitely speaks to their excitement/anticipation levels.

THE WATCH. big time softness.

they hugged hard ;_____;

im just so relieved that they’re allowed to touch each other and be intimate and aren’t consigned to the ‘boys in love aren’t like that boring boring’ corner.

the way ronan thinks about how adam fits as he remembered. huh. you’re really gonna do this to me.

his hand still pressed against the back of ronan’s skull the way it ALWAYS did when they hugged.

you smell like home. you smell like home!!!!!! brb ive gone absolutely fucking feral.

i both want to play repo because it sounds fun and don’t want to because it sounds complicated and i fucking hate instructions. much confusion.

adam pressing his shoe hard against ronan’s and then his leg and then breathing in ronan’s ear I AM HOWLING. ronan’s nerve endings being made a marvel of I AM SOBBING. it’s very important that m/m ships are afforded the same level of explicit attraction as m/f (and i don’t mean explicit as in nsfw, i mean as in obvious)

no offence because i love them but all of adam’s friends sound Extra™

“to the outside eye, ronan lynch was a loser” pls ronan, you are giving me an ulcer.

scary spice i asjkjdkjskdjak

queer crying club! i stan!!

also adam saying in the epilogue of trk that he wanted to save all the adam’s hidden in plain view and then going to college and scooping up all the criers and giving them something to do is far too much to handle.

don’t think about that and the time he thought about how he used to spend his nights crying on the trailer steps and wondering why he bothered until gansey came along and offered him friendship. dont think about how he’s essentially paying that forward DON’T THINK ABOUT IT.

hand holding, arms around each other, hip to hip walking, can’t wait anymore kissing, I MISSED YOU. love that for me!

but also the fact that adam reaches down for ronan’s hand and its so natural. ronan’s hand is there so he just. takes it.

hearing ronan’s thoughts on what happened with robert at last is A Lot. the way it’s still happening, always happening, kept fresh and savage shows how affected ronan was by it all and still is and i think its so important that he’s not just. angry and hot headed. there’s more to it than that. its painful, it makes him feel sick, its unending and it really speaks to how much adam means to him.

adam thinks he has no one BITCH YOU’VE GOT ALL OF US.

and ronan.

but. how he feels like he has nothing still. the way his voice hitches on ‘because’ because it’s all still so painful. i wanna wrap him up. i wanna take everything that hurts away. i wanna tell him he’s so loved. guess i’ll just have to sit back and watch him work his way through it all I GUESS. no but i am looking forward to his growth in this trilogy, especially considering how much he’s grown already. adam parrish invented character growth lets 👏 be 👏 real 👏

it had never been a fight between them/it was a fight between adam and himself, between adam and the world/for ronan it was a fight between truth and compromise, between the black and white he saw and the reality everyone else experienced. i LOVE this. it so well encapsulates them. and it’s so important that they can realise their differing world views and their complexities and meet in the middle somewhere.

“ronan put his lips on adam’s deaf ear, and he hated adam’s father” FUCK ME UP. my absolute favourite bit 103930%. absolute incoherent mess over here. not! okay! see other post for more coherency because i only had it for 5.7 minutes.

frowning, guarded, crumpled adam who i’ll literally. never be over in all of my life. 38983/10 will love him until the end of time.

i want it too much. !!!!!! going feral again over here. WHAT DO YOU WANT ADAM? I WANT IT TOO MUCH. definitely will never shut up about this.

scared adam is going to be a visionary so pretending chapter 6 doesn’t exist.

LINDENMERE ;________;

i love it already

i CANNOT believe that ronan is being dream invaded and challenged and he’s over here like hmm nice bike ELEGANT and ROUGH and READY like ADAM asjkasj please ronan you are so embarrassing!!

also. ronan thinks adam is elegant and rough and ready so! there’s that!

i literally. cannot. cope with the HILARITY of chapter 8. the whole thing is a complete and utter DISASTER. it’s absolutely gone off in adam’s room after all his work at constructing a well put together boy. ronan comes for a night and everything goes BONKERS. amazing.

(really worried about what this means RE ronan being able to exit the barns and grow and change and not be bored and not feel like a loser so we’re focusing on the hilarious disaster of it all.)

p.s. adam sleeping slotted between ronan and the wall OKAY. THIS IS FINE!

p.p.s. adam’s bed hair is WILD.

p.p.p.s i have missed adam and ronan so so so so so much and im an emotional fucking wreck

#call down the hawk #ronan lynch #adam parrish #pynch #dreamer trilogy #cdth spoilers #long post #sorry so much to say we were so well fed so many thoughts #;_____;#lou.txt

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boss-magne · 4 years

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PETA and Animal Crossing

Disclaimer: I have 0 issue with folks who are vegetarian/vegan. I also have no issue with people playing a game in a way that makes them happy. What I DO take issue with, however, are people who act like their way is the best or morally superior way, which is what I’m going to get into today. I also have no issue (and even SUPPORT) animal welfare and wanting animals to be treated better than they are. I do not, however, support the way that PETA does it, which is a whole ‘nother issue for another time.

That being said... let’s get into it!

So, what inspired me to write this was Illuminaughtii’s video on Youtube regarding the same article (archived here for reference). However, since she has never actually played the game, her perspective was, admittedly, limited... so being an active player, I felt it would be interesting to go through myself and Do a Thing. Now, my biggest umbridge is that PETA’s whole focus is that animals in the game should be treated like real animals. I’m not going to argue against this every time they pull this, because then this whole writeup would be nothing but “are you fucking stupid? They’re pixels,” so let’s get this out of the way first. Literally nothing in this game harms an actual, living animal. No animals are tortured, imprisoned, or murdered via fishing, bug catching, or anything else. This goes along with their first point... No, real-life fishing isn’t vegan. But this isn’t real life. It’s a video game. Yes, fishing can cause lots of real life problems... but these are PIXELS. On a fake island. These are FAKE BUGS on a FAKE ISLAND. Nothing here is REAL, so NO real life animals are being hurt here. Acting as though REAL LIFE ANIMALS are being TORMENTED because you wanted to catch a sturgeon or tarantula is disingenuous. None of the catches ingame have any real-world consequences. Fish will not magically be killed for every fish you catch. Just... take a chill pill. Skipping the next couple of sections that would warrant the same “please stop trying to guilt people over pixels...” Should I leave hermit crabs in this game alone? Oh boy. PETA. Like. Are you guys actually stupid, because... “Hermit crabs love hanging out on the shore of your island. Leave them there. When you capture a hermit crab in the game, the screen says, “I caught a hermit crab! I think it wanted to be left alone!” In this situation, the game demonstrates surprising awareness that we shouldn’t be bothering these animals and taking them from their homes.“ Do you... do you actually know what a HERMIT is? It’s wordplay. They’re making a joke. EVERY SINGLE catch in this game makes a joke like that. This has literally NOTHING to do with ANYTHING you just said, and trying to twist it to your benefit is pretty shitty and manipulative. Subsection regarding Blathers

They, for some reason, didn’t give this its own section, but I want to address it anyway, because of how colossally tone-deaf it is. So, they say: ”Blathers would like to build a museum of fish and insects on your island. Don’t let him do it! Just as fish don’t belong in tanks, insects don’t belong inside cramped cases in a museum for other villagers to gawk at. Your island should be a place where wild animals are free to live without being captured and exploited. In the real world, animals suffer in captivity at places like SeaWorld and roadside zoos. They’re deprived of everything that’s natural and important to them. In Animal Crossing, you have the choice to let the animals on your island live free from harm, so please, leave them alone!” Anyone who has unlocked the museum in ANY Animal Crossing game already knows exactly what’s wrong with this. For starters, even on the damn screenshot they used, you know there’s an entire section of the museum that doesn’t require you to capture animals. The fossil exhibit. Donating fossils hurts nobody, and is never even mentioned in their article, because they know it goes against their argument already... as does the rest of the damn museum. For the fish exhibit... all the fish are kept in large tanks, like a big, fancy aquarium.

(Credit: USGamer)

(Credit: Forbes) The bugs have an open atrium to roam around in:

(Credit: NintendoLife) Nothing about any of this screams “cramped cages,” which means PETA either: - Didn’t actually play that far and is making shit up based on the fact that they get placed in small enclosures if you put them in your house - Lied to push their agenda. I’m very much leaning towards the second because there has obviously been some degree of gameplay on their end, and it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve twisted things to their benefit. What would a vegan eat on a desert island? PETA. Guys. You can literally only eat fruit.

Acting as though you’re magically vegan for only choosing to do that is, again, proof you have no idea what you’re talking about. You CANNOT eat ANY animals in this game. AT ALL. There’s also literally no other reason for your character to NEED to eat anything. You don’t starve. You don’t die. The addition of the “you can rip up trees and smash rocks” now was literally only added to give an actual benefit to eating, because NOTHING HAPPENS IF YOU DON’T. Should I build a doghouse? PETA, obviously, argues “fuck no because SOME people are SHITTY and TIE THEIR DOGS UP OUTSIDE” and...

This is literally only decoration. You can’t have a pet dog. You can’t do anything with it except put it outside to make your yard look nice. This whole argument is virtue signaling at its finest... especially rich too, coming from a group that murders peoples’ pets. Is Tom Nook Exploiting you? Holy shit. Holy shit. Someone hold my coffee because I am about to lose my shit. Leave my boy Tom alone. “Tom Nook is a tanuki, or a raccoon dog, who are often killed for their fur. Others like him in the real world are beaten, anally electrocuted, gassed, or skinned alive. Cut him some slack.“ Okay. For starters here, there’s the implication that, yes, he’s TOTALLY exploiting you but it’s totes ok because this pixel tanuki is affected by shitty things people do irl. Bullshit about real life having any impact on a FANTASY VIDEO GAME with ANTHRO ANIMALS aside... Tom isn’t exploiting you anyway. You CHOSE and AGREED to his island package, which you can initially pay off in NookMiles, no bells required. Every single home update after is voluntary. The Noolkings will pay you for pretty much anything you bring them, which is incredibly generous and helpful. Nook himself will hold off on any upgrades until you give him permission. He also lets you pay off each loan on your own time, with NO interest or timegates. If anything, we’re exploiting HIM. Leave Tom the fuck out of this. How can you spread animal rights through Animal Crossing? This one is so goddamn pretentious I’m not even going to touch it. Like, again, play how you want, but don’t expect people to want to visit you, or have anything to do with you if you’re being a dick about it. PETA apparently received backlash for this, which caused them to add another tweet about the game, which they apparently very rarely do, but none of it was an apology, just doubling-down on their shit. So I will repeat once more for posterity, to make sure folks understand: Play however you want! If you want to play AC vegan, do it! Have fun doing it! But if you try to lie about real-life impact over how someone plays a game, or push your beliefs onto others playing the game, you really need to step back and re-evaluate your priorities. All that effort could be better used helping real animals who need real help, not virtue signaling over a video game.

#animal crossing #animal crossing new horizons #new horizons #acnh #PETA #magne speaks #long fucking post #time to brace myself for the inevitable vitriol

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dat-town · 5 years

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wish upon the sea

Characters: prince!Brian (Young K) & siren!You

Setting: a bit darker, twisted Little Mermaid au

Genre: romance, action, fantasy

Warnings: mentions of blood, death

Words: 5.7k

Author’s notes: I use the name Brian since Young K in this story is supposed to be the son of Prince Eric and Ariel, so a Korean name would have been weird, hopefully you won’t mind.

Dedicated: happy birthday, my dearest @restlessmaknae! ♥♥♥ I cannot put into words the happiness that feels me becausee of the close bond we share and that we can live through so many wonderful experience together. Thank you for letting me be not just a big sister but a best friend as well. Wish you all the best and welcome to the club among the girls in their 20s! Love ya! ♥

Once upon a time there was a prince who fell in love with a mermaid.

It was a truly heart-fluttering love story, everyone in the kingdom found Ariel lovely and kind-hearted despite her clumsiness and Prince Eric was often jokingly called a lucky bastard to have her by his side.

In a few years the couple had a child, a boy with charms like his dad’s and hair as red as the brightest coral in the sea just like his mom’s. The boy grew up to be a fine swordsman, a chevalier with the softness of the waves of seas on calm spring days. He was a good man, people said, everyone loved their handsome and kind prince and so many daughters wished to be the lucky one to have that golden heart of his. However, the prince's heart was already taken, swimming in fondness for the endless blues as he fell in love with the sea.

Ever since he was a little boy, Prince Brian and the sea were inseparable. As the castle was built on a shore not too far from the water, growing up he had spent a lot of time there playing in the sand, swimming, searching for pearls underwater. He liked the calmness and rhythmical waves coming to stroke his ankle as his feet sank into the mud, he liked the wildness of it when storms were raging over in the open fields and he liked that it had its borders but seemed to sweep through everywhere reaching every part of the world. There was something – something unexplainable and mysterious – about this giant of a sassy lady that attracted him and never let him go. He was under its spell and couldn't escape even if he wanted to.

No wonder he decided to join the royal marines as soon as he finished his training at the Academy. Being a sailor himself, his father (being the king by that time) was proud of him and supported his choice even if it meant the prince being away, on the open waters under the sparkling stars most of the time. But from time to time he came home, just like the tide always returned. He found his way back to the place where he fell for the depth and beauty of the sea.

He often found himself on the sandy beach by the water, watching it change various colours under the sunset. Sometimes he just watched it from the castle and certain times he wasn't even alone.

"Do you miss it?" he asked staring ahead at the endless sea as he stood next to his mother on the balcony. Her long red hair was decorated with jewellery made from sea shells and her locks swirled in the gentle night breeze behind her back. She had that kind of longing in her eyes that the prince couldn't understand until he didn't experience homesickness during his travels. There was no regret in those eyes, just a soft kind of sadness of losing something precious to gain another.

"It's hard not to when the sea calls for me constantly," Queen Ariel said in a gentle voice, almost like a sigh and her son couldn't even imagine the loss she felt. When she had given up on her tail to get legs, it hadn’t been the only thing she willingly let go off.

The sea's rules were strict. You couldn't turn your back on it without paying a price and every merbeing knew what it meant to leave their home behind: they could never go back.

So the prince was curious and he had matured a lot during his overseas training. Hence, he dared to ask the question he never asked out loud before.

"Do you regret it?" he whispered with eyes trained on the azure waves he loved so much.

He had been travelling throughout the Seven Seas for years now but he hadn't had the chance to stumble upon any merbeing like the ones told in his mother's tales. But her family, as she called the tribe, had always been a careful one, avoiding being in the centre of attention until Ursula's short but deadly rule. By now there was peace over the waters again.

"Choosing your father over being a mermaid? No. It's not regret. I only wish there would have been another way," the Queen shook her head staring ahead. Her honey voice was filled with nostalgia and melancholy. "But the sea is a selfish creature, a jealous lover. You can never win against it."

The prince hummed, knowing. This was a lesson he had been taught ever since he was young. He was warned to be always wary of the sea as what it gave, it could take it away just as easily. And yet, there was something out there that attracted him like flame enchanted the butterflies, he had always found his way back to it.

"Will you leave again, son?" Ariel turned her back on the stormy waves and stroke a smooth hand over the young man's face. The red locks he had got after her created a great contrast against the dark night even under the white moonlight. He was as bright as fire in the darkness.

"As soon as the maps are ready," he nodded firmly, worry evident in his eyes as he looked over the horizon. "There are more and more pirate ships around the border. We need to show them they can't hang around here. They should leave."

Politics had been a mess but the ongoing, endless wars against the Pirate Nation had been even worse. There was nothing they could negotiate with. The pirates lived for spilling blood, they weren't satisfied with anything, they always wanted more and more. More money, more freedom, more blood in the oceans. But Brian wasn't just going to let them win.

"Be careful," the Queen patted his cheek with the softest smile only mothers could make because no matter how old her son was, he was still her giggling little boy who had played with crabs and little fish in the ankle-high water by the beach.

"As always, mom," Brian promised, leaning his head into the motherly touch.

Cold breeze passed between them, bringing the forecasting of something bad coming from the sea but neither of them listened. Humans never did.

The sea wasn't a graveyard just for wrecked ships and poor souls but for broken promises and lost loves too. It had buried more than human recollection could hold onto.

And soon, you were going to join the ruins under, you were sure of it.

Handcuffed to the mast out in the open pirate ship, close but still so far away from your precious sea, you already felt like dying. Your human legs had become awfully dry due to the lack of water and every movement hurt as the blood in your veins got warmer than normal. Fever did no good to you as you leaned your sweaty forehead against the wood. Closing your eyes you imagined swimming home without a care. You really didn't want to think of all the possibilities of being sold or that they would scrap the scales off of your tail. Pirates didn't treat you as a woman even if only one huge man shirt was thrown over your bare, lithe body. In their eyes, you were an animal, being half-fish, half-human. They had big mouth, spits and swear words but their eyes couldn't lie. You saw it in their eyes, the fear and the attraction humans had towards mermaids, your unearthly beauty. But without your power, without your song, you were nothing but a tied up barely girl, useless and harmless. You hated being so weak.

"Ship on the horizon!" someone hollered in terrible dialect from the ship's bow and it was enough to stir up the waters around. Pirates all around you got their lazy asses up and with weapons in hands they rushed to prepare the ship for an attack.

"'Capt’ it's the Royal Marines," another one cried out as the three ships became more distinguishable in far-sight.

"Of course, they are," the wood-legged man snorted in disgust but the grin on his ugly face only showed satisfaction. This was just what he wanted, that was why they came here in the first place: to demolish the King's navy. Or at least his precious son and only heir. Victory could never taste as sweet as a revenge upon those who took everything from him.

Being so tired and weak, you were barely able to realize what was going on until someone splashed water into your face and shrieking you awakened from your half-lulled dream.

"The show must begin, little songbird. Are you ready to sing?" the Captain grinned at you, yellow teeth on full display as he was panting so close to your face. Disgusted, you turned your head away.

Or at least, you would have turned it but then suddenly you were yanked onto your wobbly feet by your chains and you almost fell onto your knees being ever so weak in your human legs you never really learned how to use.

"Now listen to me, doll," the pirate continued on, as he grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes, dark as the deepest pits of the sea. "Don't even think about escaping, I will kill you before you could leave the 100 meter radius of this ship. You just need to awake a storm and sing a pretty song to the sailors coming at us, okay? If you do a good job, then maybe I will reward you or if I'm feeling generous I might even let you go. What about that?"

"I- I cannot sing..." you croaked out, voice hoarse from being kept like a dog for days now. Without water you barely survived, how could he think you were still able to do what he wanted you to?

"Oh, silly girl, you think I don't know that?" the man huffed out and tossed you a huge canne of water. You were like a lunatic on verge of dying because of thirst based on the way you caught on that. You gulped down the oh so sweet, salty sea water and you felt your blood buzzing in excitement. Power, finally.

"Now sing!" the captain ordered once all his men put something into their ears to dull your enchanting voice. This way it couldn't affect. You grimaced at the smart move and when you were dragged to the side of the ship, you opened your mouth to sing.

Whenever you let that lulling melody fall from the tip of your tongue, you felt powerful, almost invincible. But now, you could barely hit the right tones. You thought you wouldn’t be able to summon anything at this rate but the sea, taking pity on you, started stirring up around the ship, clouds darkening above and the first drops of rain felt like a miracle on your dry skin. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a deep breath before starting that song again, the one that allured so many sailors into the loving arms of death.

The three ships of navy got closer in the meantime and the first roar of cannon made you tremble. The second made you fall as the pirate holding on your chains lost his balance and pulled you with him. Out of breath, you collapsed onto the wood board. You couldn't keep up. That much of water after being dried under the Sun didn't even give you enough strength to transform back into your full form. You could barely answer to the pull of the sea by finding your voice and that sweet melody.

You stopped singing, pushing him away as his hands grabbed on your shirt to stop you from escaping. Not like you could go far away with those metals around your ankle and the ties around your wrists but at least you wouldn’t be a puppet on string in a useless fight. You couldn’t wait for the ship to sink anyway.

“Why did you stop singing, little birdie?” The pirate clicked his tongue, following you to the mast where you tried to get the chain off in vain. He grabbed on your waist hauling you up.

“I’m not your songbird,” you gritted your teeth, angry, feeling the power of sea so close. You knew it had your back. You were so so mad, you could have killed this pirate with bare hands, only if you’d had your powers!

Everybody was running around on the ship, cannons fire shots, the ship tilted to one side and then the other as it got closer and closer to the maelstrom created closeby. You knew the power of the sea, a vortex like this could drag down whole armadas. A few pirate ships and three navy ones were like a children play.

You hung onto the mast as the navy ship got next to the one you were on in the next circle it took down the spiral. You kicked and hit until the pirate had to put you down and when he tried to lay his dirty hands on you again, you bit into his finger and just as he screamed in pain, you wrapped your own ties around his neck and squeezed it as long as you heard him breathe. Just another dead body as a sacrifice to the sea, you have seen them fall one by one anyway. The marines obviously overpowered them but you didn’t care about the gunshots and the screams and the blood spilling all around. You tried to get rid of your chains with trembling hands.

"There's a girl here! Help, they kept a girl as a hostage!" Someone hovered over you out of the blue. With a knife in one hand, he made a quick job with the rope tie around your hands, getting those off of your bruised wrists but you couldn’t help but flinch when the cold metal touched your skin and for a moment you thought he was going to dig it deep into your still heart. However, he hadn’t touch you like this, his eyes quickly skimmed through your body until he find the metal cage around your bare ankle. Only when he finished getting rid of the chain, you looked up at the stranger.

Marks of the battle were evident on his features in red split lines but his hands were warm and gentle as he covered you with his own jacket probably thinking you were cold in that thin shirt thrown upon you. He put a hand over the small of your back, pulling you up by the elbow with the other. He treated you as if you were fragile, harmless... human.

As if he was a mere fever dream you could only blink at him in awe, at his hair shining like the ardent, burning-hot colour of the sunset, so different from your own ink-like locks. And his eyes, those brown orbs, even with the fighter spirit in them, were so warm even your cold, cold heart felt the tremble as your gazes met.

"You're safe now," he said oh so softly but how a naive soul he was! The battle wasn't over yet and if it were, it wouldn't have been you who had to be afraid. He had no idea what you were capable of, how many hearts you had taken already. He held you as you stared at him, the first one to help you in order to save you from a possible unfair death on a pirate ship and then another cannon ball slammed into the wooden body of the ship.

"Lieutenant, get out of there!" Someone from the other ship brushing so close to this yelled but it was too late.

The fire of the fiery shot had already reached the gunpowder under the deck and it exploded like magical fireworks in the sky. The whole ship shook with the power of it, the wooden floor collapsed beneath you and the two of you fell into the water amongst the ruins of the pirate ship.

As soon as your skin made contact with the salty sea water, it felt like rebirth. Life was breathed into your burning lungs and you finally arrived home. You felt the scars heal, the bleeding stop and in the dark water lit by the orange of fire, you transformed: human legs got colour, covered by turquoise scales. Golden dots tainted tail and breast covered by finlike pattern, you got rid of the shirt and jacket to take a deep breath from the oxygen-filled water.

There were so many different feelings in you that wanted to break out. Anger, happiness and sadness all alike. You wanted to avenge what these pirates did to you but they were doomed to die anyway, the sea, the Mighty, was just as angry as you were. On the other hand you were finally free, you could have just swimmed away, away from this madness not looking back. But as you made the first movement to leave, you saw him, the soldier, the lieutenant who helped you, his body slowly sunk under as his muscles were on the verge of fighting against his lungs screaming for oxygen. He didn't deserve to die, that much was sure. He was caring and understanding even if he didn't know you. He was the first to treat you like a human being and as you watched him close his eyes, hands reaching for the surface, you couldn't just let him die. Not like that.

In a span of a moment, you decided against your life instincts. It wasn't usual for your kind to be kind to humans, much less saving them. But he deserved so much more than being another dead body in the sea among those ruthless pirates. You swam up to him until your bodies collided, flesh against flesh. He looked vulnerable and fragile now with his eyes clothes, body heavy as the sea pulled him down. You filled your lungs with oxygen and pressed your mouth against his, forcing his lips open so you could exhale the sweet air into his screaming lungs.

A kiss of the Sea.

When Prince Brian awakened he didn’t know where he was and how he got there.

Prying his eyes open he could see sand and palm trees, faintly he heard the murmurs of the sea. It didn’t take too much time to figure out that he was washed up to a beach after he fell into the water. With that realization, memories came back to him about the storm, the pirates, the fight and… the girl! He certainly remembered a pure-looking girl with hair like the darkest night and eyes like coal that heat up the castle back home. He wondered what her came to be, whether she survived the shipwreck and he wished to know where the rest of his crew was. He remembered falling into the sea after the explosion but if he had survived, they had to be alive as well, right? They were probably out looking for him.

He sat up, head hurting from the sudden movement but as he looked up at the shore he immediately knew where he was.

Home.

Up there he saw the castle and away a bit there was their bay. He somehow got to the beach he used to play at as a child when he was miles and miles away fighting pirates. Just how long he had been out? How long the sea had carried him on its back? How was this even possible? He wondered but thanked every deity that he had gotten home safely, so he could keep his promise made to his mother.

A moment later a dark shadow moved behind a huge rock by the beach and the prince immediately sprang to his feet.

“Hey, wait! Yes, you, please...” he yelled at the stranger, voice pleading because he had this gut feeling that there was something very important there. When the shadow didn’t move, neither closer, nor farther away, he took tentative steps by the seaside to approach the rock. Just as he passed by the rock, he noticed a girl in the water, the same from the pirate ship with her warm eyes and dark locks, but there was something different about her. At first, his eyes fell upon the naked shoulders of her, her long hair spreading all around her on the surface of the water, then he realized that the most outstanding of it all was the blue of her skin, the gill opening on her neck and the scattered golden scales along her body.

“You… you are a mermaid,” he whispered in awe suddenly remembering all the tales his mother had told him. His miraculous appearance here also made more sense because of it.

“I just wanted to make sure you are alive,” she said in a dulcet voice as if it was natural. He was actually glad she stayed and not just because she was the first mermaid (apart from his own mother of course) he had the chance to meet. He was indeed grateful.

“Did you bring me all the way here?” he asked and she simply nodded, watching him curiously. Brian wondered whether she found him just as interesting as he found her. It wasn’t because she wasn’t human but because she acted like one. Even his mother told him that her kind was brought up by the ruthless sea itself, so they believed in kill or to be killed. Befriending and saving humans was something that went against their own ethical codex. In some tribes it even meant betrayal, yet she took the risk for him, so he felt immense gratitude.

“Thank you,” he told her, words genuine even though he wasn’t sure she understood what it meant for him and why he wanted to know more about her. “Do you oft–”

He wanted to know if she visited this shore regularly, whether they had a chance to meet again, whether she would be up for a talk but life had got in-between.

“Your Highness!” a royal guard hollered and the mermaid swam away with the sound of quick flacks on the sea’s surface following her.

The prince looked after her, at the wavy sea, yearning for something even his heart couldn’t name.

You tried your best to forget him, to not miss him but all in vain. Once you were back with your tribe, you told them about your capture, the fight and how you escaped. It was hard not to tell them about the handsome prince who was there too but it would have been a stupid move on your part telling them that you blessed him with the gift of Sea. Not all of them would have been so understanding.

It was a silly thing, wasn't it? Being so enamoured with someone despite barely knowing anything about them. All you knew was that he was kind-hearted and not disgusted by your type. From a human, it was more than enough.

So you caught yourself hanging around the beach more, his beach to be more precise. He liked to take early morning jogs there - you definitely did not stare - and late night walks. Most of the times he was alone, sometimes he was with a beautiful, elder lady, hair similar to his. You were sure she was his mother but the most surprising thing was that it felt as if she was the part of the ocean too. It was a fading feeling but it was there and for a moment you couldn't believe but could it been? That the legends about the mermaid who became human were true? It would have explained why he behaved so naturally around her and why his crew was prepared enough to not get affected by her song. Everything made much more sense like this and it only added to your growing fascination with him.

You wondered whether the Sea adored or cursed at him? The child of one that got away, one that turned away from the depth? He seemed to be fine on water, he seemed rather fond of it, spending so much time around it, so you were pretty certain he also felt that pull that bind you to your home. It was just another symptom of homesickness.

After a week or so, you saw the prince getting abroad again, proud as the Lieutenant on a new ship heading towards South. You followed them from a certain distant and watched him. You told yourself it was because you didn't want him to stumble upon your tribe but actually your heart yearned for something even you couldn't explain. Maybe you wanted those soft eyes on you again, his gentle touch and kind words. You really weren't sure.

But it seemed like the Sea listened to your untold prayers when a storm came, a powerful one as you felt it in your fibers, the waves crashing to every rock with a power so harsh you trembled. It gave you an excuse to step out of the shadows under the moonlight, when almost everyone was sleeping on the ship. You had seen the prince walk back and forth every night alone on the deck, so that day you waited for him.

You psted at him trying to get his attention when he indeed walked out from his cabin with a simple white shirt hanging from his wide-shouldered figure. He looked around confused then you let out a whisper again and he ran to the side of the ship looking down at the water, seeing you above the service.

"Oh so I was right about being followed!" He muttered but there was nothing negative in his voice only wonder. You didn't even expect him to but then he climbed over the fence after throwing down a rope ladder and he climbed down until his boots touched the surface of water.

"I didn't get your name last time," was the first thing he said and it's ridiculous.

"That's not what's important now," you argued as you held onto the ladder too to keep it up easier against the wild current. "There's a huge storm coming. You need to turn more West to not run into it."

That's it, that's what you wanted to tell him, it's time to go, you reminded yourself and let go off the rope but at his voice you turned back.

"Hey! Don't go," he whisper-yelled after you and he sounded desperate. You had never heard anyone talk to you like that. As if the mere thought of you leaving again had been painful for him. "Why are you helping us?"

"You helped me last time," you reasoned but the prince seemed both a bit doubtful and a bit hopeful.

"Is that it? Just this?"

His voice wasn't accusing but curious and it felt like as if he wanted it to be more. It made you smile.

"What else would be there?" You raised a brow playful and something similar reflected in his eyes too as he leaned closer, letting go of the rope with one hand. What a daring, reckless man he was!

"Don't you feel this pull?"

Oh the one like waves? The one that followed the moon? The gravity? That strange power that attracted you to him? Your smile was like a secret love song whispered to the Sea, yet he caught sight of it as you blushed under the milk honey coloured light.

"To the West. Don't forget, my Prince," you reminded him and swam away with your ever still heart beating crazily against your ribcage.

Of course, Brian listened to you. He had nothing to lose. The journey was a bit longer with that detour which meant a more cranky crew because of they ran out of food and rum sooner than expected. But at least everyone survived. Even like this, the ship was tossed around in the water by the waves that came from the darkened part on the ocean. He knew that if it hadn’t been for you, they would have gone straight to the danger zone. So he was grateful but also even more curious than before. You were more playful than he thought at first, but then again, you met on the rim of death, of course you weren't joking with him back then.

He still didn't know your name and he who had found so many treasures, who had fought so many pirates and enemies, he was determined to change that. So he lost more and more sleep in order to meet you. Because yes, he had caught sight of you some nights when the Moon was high in the sky and your tail shone in all colours of the rainbow. Then at some point, you stopped being shy and only watch the ship from afar, you swam closer and closer until he spent half of his nights sitting on that rope ladder talking to you.

Those midnight rendezvous became your favourite part of the days. Just to listen to him talk about his duties as the prince and lieutenant, his worries about his country, his dreams, places he wants to see. In exchange you told him about your life underwater, your sisters in the tribe and how peaceful the waters had been around here until the pirates came. It turned out you had a common enemy in those dirty men. Both of you wanted to get rid of them, so you offered your help. It was a pretty cool deal, though both of you knew it was just an excuse. The only setback was the danger itself but you had never been one to give into fear so easily. You wouldn't have been alone anyway. Spending time with the prince wasn't too bad either.

"So tomorrow?" you looked up at him one night knowing that the next day you would reach the Triangle of Cages, the bay of pirates where you were told not to be able to leave once you're inside. But you had the element of surprise with you and with your skills you could help the crew.

"Yeah. Tomorrow," the Prince sighed, looking up at the Moon. He had some kind of melancholy in his eyes and you could easily tell that he was worried. Nobody knew how many pirates would be there and he only had a little armada of three ships with around hundred of people. Pirates might have been uneducated and untrained but they were rough, had grown up on the Sea, so they were an enemy nobody should have underestimate.

"It's going to be okay," you told him even though you always hated these kind of cheap promises. It was a simple lie, because how could you know for sure what was going to happen? It was all in the hands of the Sea.

"But if it's not... I wanna give you something," he said, warmth swimming in his dark eyes as he took something out of his pocket. It was a bracelet made of little pearls, it was pretty. "My mother said it once belonged to the Sea. I want to return it," he said as he handed the accessory out for you.

"You want to give it to me?" you blinked at him surprised. You didn't expect him to be so sentimental.

"You're part of the Sea, aren't you?" He raised an eyebrow at you almost challengingly. You had a hard time suppressing a smile but in the meantime it was a situation so much more serious.

"You own a bit of it as well," just like from my heart.

The prince smiled down at you almost as if he knew what exactly you meant and he was gentle as he put the bracelet around your wrist, fingers drawing soft pattern onto the back of your hand as his fingers slipped off you. You immediately missed his warmth.

"I still don't know your name," he whispered which made you giggle. You pulled yourself upwards by the rope on his side and beckoned him closer with your index fingers. You looked him straight in the eyes as he leant closer, breath fanning over your lips as you whispered your name like a secret into the seam of his mouth.

At first he seemed a bit taken aback by your closeness but before you could have pulled back, playfully winking at him, he sneaked a hand behind your neck to keep you there. To hold you when his mouth slid over yours, chapped rum-flavoured lips tasting your salty ones. Your breath hitched before kissing him back, fingers slipping into his burgundy locks. You only pulled back when he almost lost his balance on the rope ladder and fell into the water with you. Both of your chuckles echoed in the night sky as the sea welcomed you back with wide arms, calm waves pulling you under. You waved before you swam under, hiding your blushed cheeks in the water.

By now, you were sure the Sea was just as enamoured with him as you were, you didn't worry about tomorrow.

Twice upon a time, a prince fell in love with a mermaid.

He never lost any more battles on the sea but he always yearned to be out there, under the stars, in her arms. He walked along the line marked with sea-washed wishes in the sand under his feet, never straying far. For once, you didn't have to take his heart because he offered willingly. He loved you more than the Sun and the Moon and all the stars, coming back to you whenever he could. So when this time his mother asked him: do you miss it? He didn't have to think of an answer, it was as sure as his heartbeat, deeply integrated in his system.

"I miss her as I would miss the air, constantly and solidly, always." He smiled but his smile was hopeful because you both knew that no matter how harsh the Sea was, it wasn't only a graveyard, it was also a cradle of your love. Of another love story of which word got around not just in the Kingdom but every wave of the ocean.

#day6 scenarios #day6 imagines #young k imagines #young k scenarios #day6 brian #day6 young k #day6 younghyun #royalty au #siren au #little mermaid au #pirate au #fantasy au #stories

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vfdbaudelairefile13 · 5 years

Text

Chapter Forty-Two:

The One Where the Baudelaires are Put to Work

That day, Violet Snicket was relieved that her father had finally arrived home, although, she didn’t say much to him. She was afraid if she started a conversation with him she would start asking about VFD and his involvement. She would ask him a million questions and expect answers to each one. But she couldn’t, not yet at least, she needed to compile every scrap of evidence she could before she questioned him. Why? Because she feared that after she interrogates him, he will make learning VFD information a lot harder than it already is. She wasn’t going to let that happen.

Violet sat across from her father as they both silently ate. You could cut the tension between the two of them with a knife.

“You okay, sweetie?” Lemony asked after a while of the awkward tension.

“Hmm mmm,” Violet said not really saying anything to her father.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just glad you’re home.” Violet muttered rolling her eyes. “Finally,”

“Honey…” Lemony began.

“I know, you’re just doing your job. Putting food on the table.”

Lemony frowned. He didn’t know what was wrong with his daughter and why she was so moody. Violet didn’t look up at him, afraid that she’d crack under pressure. Neither of them said anything for another couple moments of pure tense silence.

“So have you found her?” Violet asked.

“Huh?”

“My mother? Have you found her yet? Are you even close? Have you even bothered since the last time I asked?” She asked impatiently.

Lemony was taken aback by his daughter’s tone, he sighed and nodded his head in response.

“Really?” She asked not believing a word he was saying. “Can you explain what you’ve learned?”

“Violet…”

“Well…?”

He sighed again. “I rather not get your hopes up,”

“Of course not. Makes sense,” Violet replied in the same impatient tone as before. She absolutely hated how he had a lie ready at his disposal.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep. Definitely.”

He frowned. He knew this was a lie. He knew his daughter more than she would like to admit. That’s what happens when you’ve lived with just one other person for their entire life. He didn’t understand why she was in a mood though. Was it because she desperately wanted to learn about her birth mother or was it because he was absent more often these days. His stay at Lake Lachrymose had gone on longer than he had anticipated at first. But what could he have done? He had to help the Baudelaires. Maybe he should’ve called her and allowed her to know that he was fine.

He opened his mouth to say something but as he did, the phone rang. Both Snickets looked at the phone. Lemony stood up before Violet had a chance to. “I got it,” he said as she rolled her eyes. He took the phone and went into the other room.

“Yes, Jacquelyn.” He answered knowing damn well who was on the other end of the phone call.

“Now, how’d you know it was me?”

“You’re the only person who calls,”

“Damn. That’s truly sad, Snicket. You should get out more.”

“Ha. Funny,” Lemony replied in a sarcastic tone as he rolled his eyes. “So...let me guess Olaf is after the kids again.”

“When isn’t he?”

“Good point,” Lemony muttered. “What do we know about his plan this time?”

“Nothing. We just know he has found them,”

“How the fuck is he getting this information before me?”

“Honestly, that’s something I’d like to know,” Jacquelyn replied annoyed. “I mean I work for the man who takes them to their guardians and he somehow knows before me…”

“You don’t think Poe works for him, do you?”

“No...no...the man is incompetent but definitely not evil.”

“Now are you sure?” Lemony asked.

“Yes. It would take a functioning brain to pull that off,” Jacquelyn pointed out laughing.

“Okay. Good point.” Lemony said convinced. “So where are they now?”

“Paltryville,”

“Of course…”

“Why do you say it like that?” Jacquelyn asked concerned.

“...I’m not welcomed in Paltryville...for several reasons. One is that they think I helped start a certain fire,”

“Ah. Should I send myself or Larry.”

“No!” Lemony cried panicked. “No offense, but the last time that I allowed you to send yourself to the Baudelaires’ location, Dr. Montgomery died. And the last time Larry beat me to their location, he was kidnapped by Olaf and he could’ve been killed.”

“Are you going to keep using Dr. Montgomery’s death against me?”

“Yes. Until you can explain to me why disguising yourself as a fucking statue was a good idea I am going to use that against you.”

“Suit yourself, Snicket,” Jacquelyn said. “You’ll need to get on the next train to Paltryville.”

Lemony looked to Violet who wasn’t paying attention. “Ummm…” he said. “I’m gonna need a day or two,”

“What?”

“I have an a...prior commitment. I have to...ummmm...research something. Shouldn’t take me long,”

“But the Baudelaires…”

“They’re resourceful kids,” Lemony said immediately. “They can survive a day or two without me.”

“If you’re sure, Snicket,” Jacquelyn said after sighing. “Just let me know if you want me to go for you...cause I can.”

“Again...no. Stop suggesting that,” Lemony said chuckling a bit. “Just keep me updated if you can. Surely there’s a VFD agent in Paltryville that can give us information.”

“Doubtful,”

“Just give me a day or so,” Lemony said as Jacquelyn bid him goodbye.

Lemony walked back over to Violet. “You know what, I’m sorry. You’re right,”

“What?” she asked confused.

“I haven’t made looking for your mother a priority in the last couple of weeks. That’s going to change.” He said as he watched her eyes light up. “I am going to find her, Violet. I promise.” He said.

As he watched a smile appear upon his daughter’s face, he could feel a ping of guilt in his heart. He knew that eventually, he would have to explain to Violet what had happened to her mother. When he told her that he was going to find her, what he meant was that he was going to figure out who stole Beatrice from Violet forever. He didn’t want to drop this piece of information on his daughter without closure. He didn’t want her to wonder who would kill her mother. He wanted to be able to have all the answers to every question she would have about her mother’s death. So he had decided to take the next day to focus on figuring out the exact cause of the Baudelaire fire.

_____________________________________________________________________

Morning is an important time of day because how you begin your morning can often tell you what kind of day you’re going to have. If you wake up to a breakfast made by your father, your day will probably be decent. If you wake up in a mansion to a butler serving you blueberry pancakes and freshly squeezed orange juice, your day will probably be wonderful. Now if you wake up in a lumber mill to the sound of metal pots banging together, you know your day will be horrid.

You and I, of course, cannot be too surprised that the Baudelaire orphans’ first day at the Lucky Smells Lumbermill was a horrid one. The Baudelaire orphans did not expect a nice, hot breakfast or a butler, especially after their dismaying arrival. But never in their most uneasy dreams did they expect the cacophony that awoke them.

“Get up, lumber workers! This is your new foreman, and you’ve got a new shipment of logs to turn into flat wooden boards!” A rough voice yelled over the loudspeakers.

“What’s that horrible noise?’ Klaus asked groggily.

“Tympana,” Sunny muttered, which meant, “It sounds like someone banging metal pots together…”

“Get up, you lazy, smell things!” the foreman’s voice yelled. “Time for work, everybody!”

The children sat up and rubbed their eyes. All around them, the employees of the Lucky Smells Lumbermill were stretching and covering their ears at the sound of the pots. Phil, who was already up and making his bunk neatly, gave the Baudelaires a tired smile.

“I believe everyone has a good side. But I have to admit, our last foreman was a lot nicer,” Phil commented to the children.

“What happened to your last foreman?” Klaus asked wearily.

“Must’ve quit in the middle of the night,” Phil said cheerfully. “It happens a lot around here,”

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another uneasily.

“Hurry up! It’s log day!” the foreman’s voice yelled.

“I hate log days,” a mill worker muttered.

As the children followed Phil and the other workers across the dirt-floored courtyard to the lumber mill, which was a dull gray building with many smokestacks sticking out of the top. The two children looked at one another nervously. Except for one summer day, back when their parents were alive, when the Baudelaire siblings had opened a small lemonade stand in front of their house, the orphans had never had jobs, and they were quite nervous.

The Baudelaires walked closely next to Phil into the lumbermill and saw that it was all one huge room, filled with enormous machines. Klaus looked at a shiny steel machine with a pair of steel pinchers like the arms of a crab and hoped that he wouldn’t be asked to handle it. Sunny examined a machine that looked like a big cage, with an enormous ball of string trapped inside, and tried to think of what a machine like that could be used for. Both children stared a rusty, creaky-looking machine that had a circular saw-blade that looked quite jagged and fearsome. Sunny wondered if the saw was sharper than her teeth, while Klaus anxiously tried to remember anything and everything he had read about lumber mills.

All the while, the noise from all of the machines were starting to disturb Klaus. Klaus began to whimper a little as he put his hands over his ears and winced in pain. “It’s too loud in here,” he said to Sunny as Sunny nodded her head at her brother.

“Now grab a debarker and start debarking!” the foreman yelled from his booth. The foreman wore a gas mask that completely covered his face, which seemed odd to the children. He also wore a stained uniform that completely covered his arms and legs, Klaus suspected it was to cover up a certain tattoo. Sunny noticed that his shoes had been taped shut instead of being tied, which seemed rather unusual for anyone to do. The foreman turned his head towards the children. “You too, lumber midgets!”

“We’re not midgets...we’re children,” Klaus replied as he stood in line with Sunny to get a debarker.

“Children, midgets, do I care?” The foreman said in a muffled voice.

“Oh, I love log days!” Phil exclaimed.

Klaus took a debarker from the dispenser and looked down at it. “I don’t think this is safe for even me to be handling,” he said cautiously to Sunny.

“Bite!” she exclaimed, which probably meant, “That’s okay. I don’t need one. I’ll just bite the logs.”

As the children followed the other workers around one of the trees, Phil showed Klaus how to use his debarker. He began scraping it against the tree, filing the bark off like you would file your nail. Klaus nodded and tried to imitate Phil’s actions.

Even though Phil had described the rigors of working at the mill, it had certainly sounded difficult. But seeing that he was an optimist, he still sugar-coated just how difficult the job would be, so the actual work turned out to be much, much worse. For one thing, the debarkers were adult-sized and it was difficult for Klaus to use it. He could scarcely lift it and even when he could lift up to the tree, he had to push with all his might to get it to file the bark from the log and even then only tiny pieces of bark would fall from the tree. He was in a mixture of jealousy and amazement as Sunny climbed atop the log and began to saw away at the bark with her teeth. She made it look so easy.

To the Baudelaires’ misfortune, once a tree was finally cleared of bark, there would be another tree waiting for them. Which meant they would have to start this process over and over again. But if you asked the Baudelaires what was the worst thing about working at the lumber mill would be the deafening noise. Since Klaus had to use two hands to move his debarker against the wood, he had absolutely no way of blocking all the terrible noises from his eardrums. So the entire time he felt overstimulated and he continued to wince in discomfort. He longed for a break so he can go outside and maybe get a few minutes of peace and quiet. Finally, as the children finished their third log (noticing that all the other groups of workers were at least on their fourteenth log), the foreman began shouting over the loudspeaker. “Lunch break! Lumber slowpokes!”

Klaus grabbed his baby sister and sat down where the rest of the workers were sitting. He started picking pieces of wood out of his sister’s hair noticing that she was completely covered in sawdust. He could only imagine how terrible he looked as he began to ruffle his hair in hope of getting all the sawdust out.“I hate log days,” Klaus muttered to Sunny as one of the mill workers replied, “Told ya!”

“Otii!” Sunny replied, which meant, “We finally get a break.”

“Lunch break! Five minutes!” the foreman yelled as he threw two pink squares at the children. Klaus somehow caught it and looked down at the small pink square that was in his hands.

“It’s gum...this is gum!” he shouted not believing his eyes. “Gum isn’t lunch! Gum isn’t even a snack!”

“Tanco!” Sunny yelled in agreement, which meant, “And babies shouldn’t even have gum, because they could choke on it!” Klaus was quick to translate.

“You’d better eat your gum,” Phil said, moving over to sit next to the two children. “It’s not very filling, but it’s the only thing they’ll let you eat until dinnertime.”

“Can’t we use our wages to buy some sandwiches?” Klaus asked still staring at the two pink squares in his hands.

Phil began to chuckle a bit. “Kiddo, we’re not paid in wages. We’re paid in coupons.”

“I got one for 20% off a shampoo at Ed’s Haircut Palace,” one mill worker replied.

“I got a free refill of iced tea,” another replied.

“I got ‘Buy two banjos, get one free’. Of course, I can’t buy any banjos ‘cause I don’t have any money. Just coupons.” a third mentioned.

“That...that can’t be legal,” Klaus replied in utter disbelief.

“It’s not like we have a constitution,” Phil replied.

“If this place is so miserable, why don’t you leave?” Klaus asks.

All at once, like zombies or brainwashed members of a cult, the mill workers stood up and in a monotone chant, they replied, “Lucky Smells is our life. Lucky Smells is our home.” They sat back down as if nothing they had just done was out of the ordinary. Klaus looked down at Sunny with a worried face.

“We need to find those answers and run away,” he said as Sunny nodded.

“Book!” she replied, which probably meant, “Didn’t the mill have a library?”

Klaus nodded his head as he picked Sunny up and walked out of the noisy mill into the peacefully quiet courtyard. During the walk to the mill's library, he couldn’t help but ponder just how terrible Sir was. What kind of man forces two small children to work in a lumber mill? What sort of man would hire a dickhead like the foreman? What sort of man would pay his employees in coupons or feed them only gum? But his biggest question was the same as the one he had asked Mr. Poe before they were even dropped off here which was how is a lumber mill a suitable home for two children? With each step, the children raised small clouds of dirt that matched the clouds of dread that continued to hang over them ever since their parents had died. Their bodies ached from the morning’s work and they had an uneasy feeling in their empty stomachs. As they guessed from the way their day began, the two children were having a bad day and I hate to inform you that although the Baudelaires believed it couldn’t get any worse. They were entirely wrong. Because it can get so much worse...and it did.

Finally, the two children reached the building that contained Sir’s office and Charles’ library. Klaus noticed a mirror hanging on the wall and peered in it frowning. Both children looked tired and hungry. Both children’s hair and uniforms were covered in small pieces of bark and sawdust. Klaus’ glasses were hanging askew from leaning over logs all morning and Sunny had pieces of wood stuck in her four teeth. Both children frowned and noticed a painting of a seashore that hung behind them, which made them feel about ten thousand times worse because the seashore will always remind them of that terrible, terrible day when the two siblings went to the beach and soon received the news from Mr. Poe that their parents had died and they were all alone in this world. The children stared at their own reflections and the depressing painting behind them, and it was almost unbearable for either of them to think about everything that had happened to them since that day.

“You know, if someone had told me,” Klaus cried, “ that day at the beach, that before long I’d find myself pursued by a greedy, evil man named Count Olaf, I would have said they were insane.”

“Wora,” Sunny replied softly, which meant, “If someone had told me, that day at the beach, that before long I’d find myself using my four teeth to scrape the bark off trees because I was now working in a lumbermill, I would have said they were psychoneurotically disturbed.”

The dismayed orphans looked at their reflections and for several moments, the Baudelaires stood and pondered the mysterious way their lives were going. It wasn’t until Sunny pointed to a pair of closed doors muttering the word, “book,” that snapped Klaus back into reality.

“You’re right, Sunny. According to the map, the mill library should be just behind...behind this door,” Klaus whispered as he touched the doors to open up. Just when he had placed a hand on the library door, a door behind the two children swung open.

“Trying to get out of log day, are you?” Sir’s booming voice asked. Klaus jumped in surprise and turned to see his guardians, one whose face was still entirely covered by a cloud of smoke and the other who was wearing an apron.

“We wanted to visit the library on our lunch break, Sir.”

“Oh! What a lovely idea!” Charles said smiling at the children, turning to Sir. “I told you a library would be good for morale,”

“Nonsense!” Sir yelled which cause both Klaus and Charles to flinch. “Lunch breaks are for chewing gum, not sneaking off to libraries! That’s why they only need five fucking minutes!”

“But, Sir…” Charles began.

“You’re not going to cause trouble for my mill, are you?”

“Trouble? I’m your partner.” Charles said in a saddened tone.

Sir turned to Charles. “I was speaking to the Baudelaires!” he said in a loud and annoyed tone.

“Right,” Charles muttered.

“Look here, boy, I took a chance treating you like grown-ups. Don’t make me regret it!” Sir yelled.

“Puer!” Sunny yelled, which meant, “We never asked to be treated like grown-ups. If I recall correctly, we explained to you that we were children! ” Klaus was quick to translate for his sister.

Sir growled under his breath. “ Get back to work!”

With that Sir turned and walked back into his office as Klaus and Sunny looked at Charles with desperate, pleading eyes. Charles gave the children a small frown as he slowly began to back up into the office.

“You’ll have to excuse Sir. He recently cut down on his smoking,” Charles explained, even though, he knew deep down that was not a good enough excuse for why Sir was treating the Baudelaires so terribly.

“Do you know he feeds the workers gum and pays them in coupons!?” Klaus asks angrily.

“Yes...well, I’ve tried to discuss that. ”

“Par!” Sunny yelled, which meant, “If you guys are partners , you should be able to stand up to him!” Klaus translated for his sister.

“It’s complicated. I know Sir can be...prickly, but you have to understand, he had a very terrible childhood.” Charles explained as he grabbed ahold of the office doors and began to slowly close them.

Klaus glared at Charles and took a step closer to him as he thought about that horrible day at the beach again. “I understand,” Klaus said through gritted teeth. “ I’m having a very terrible childhood right now, ” he said his voice breaking.

Charles continued closing the office doors as he whispered, “okay.” Klaus just gave a look of utter disbelief at Charles’ lack of caring for the children.

Klaus and Sunny just stood there for a few moments before shaking their heads and walking back to the lumbermill. In the hours that followed as the two children worked and worked. Klaus had a pit in his stomach as he thought once again about the eye-shaped building. He was certain that Count Olaf was lurking nearby, like some predator waiting to pounce on the children while they weren’t looking. He tried his best to get a good look at every mill worker. It would have been simple for Olaf to get himself hired as an employee, and snatch the children away when Foreman Flacutono wasn’t looking. But although all the workers looked tired, sad, and hungry, none of them looked evil and greedy. As the orphans performed backbreaking labor, Klaus wondered if Count Olaf would use one of these scary-looking machines to somehow get his dirty hands on their parents’ money. He then thought of Foreman Flacutono and thought about just how odd his uniform was. No one else here was wearing a gas mask and although the mills’ green uniforms covered every inch of the workers’ arms and legs, they still weren’t as long and awkward as the foreman’s uniform. Klaus then remembered how a nice man, Kronk, had claimed to be from the Herpetological Society back when the children had lived with their Uncle Monty. Even though the man had been nice and helpful to the children, Klaus had always found it odd that he wore a beekeeper’s hat to conceal his face. He pondered whether or not Count Olaf could be doing that now but with a gas mask.

“Penny?” Sunny asked as she sat up on the log staring at her brother, this meant, “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Huh?” Klaus asked confused.

“Cogitare,” Sunny replied, which meant, “You’re thinking something.”

Klaus sighed and put down his debarker. “It’s the new foreman. Phil said he just showed up last night. What if he’s Count Olaf and being a foreman’s his new disguise?”

“Pessima,” Sunny replied annoyed, which meant, “He is cruel like Count Olaf, but Olaf runs a horrible theater troupe, not a lumbermill.”

“But isn’t it suspicious how we never see his face?”

“Sir,” Sunny remarked.

“I already thought of that, Sir’s way too short to be Olaf in disguise.”

Sunny rolled her eyes at her brother unimpressed.

“...and we only hear his voice over the loudspeaker,” Klaus reasoned.

“Impellit,” Sunny remarked, which meant, “Probably because the mill is too noisy. It’s probably the only way anyone could ever hear him.”

“But…” Klaus cried.

“ Ludum! ” Sunny yelled impatiently, which meant, “ I know what you’re trying to do!”

“Keep us safe!” Klaus cried.

“Nos!” Sunny yelled impatiently rolling her eyes, which meant, “Find a reason to leave. And we can just as soon as we clear our parents’ names.”

“I don’t care about that! I have to keep you safe!” Klaus argued.

“Curam me!” she replied harshly, which meant, “Goddammit, Klaus! I don’t need you to keep me safe! I can handle my own pretty sure I’ve done enough to prove that! Worry about yourself!”

Klaus frowned and looked to the ground. “I...I...I need a new debarker,” he said sadly as he tossed his to the ground. Sunny shrugged her shoulders and went back to work. Klaus walked slowly away from his baby sister, wiping the tears from his eyes. Klaus turned back to make sure Sunny was okay, she seemed annoyed but content as she went back to biting the bark off the logs. Klaus walked towards the debarker machine but noticed that Foreman Flacutono was asleep in his booth with his left leg hanging out. Klaus took this opportunity and quickly walked up near the booth, slowly kneeling down to the ground.

Ever so cautiously, Klaus gently grabbed the man’s pant leg and began to slowly pull it up. Praying that he didn’t wake the foreman. He just needed to see the man’s ankle. As Klaus pulled the pant leg up, the foreman began to move slightly in his sleep. Klaus held his breath, trying his best to not wake the man up. Before he could see the man’s left ankle, the foreman jerked awake as Klaus jumped up not making eye contact with him.

“What are you doing, midget?” the foreman asked him angrily.

“I...I...I need a new debarker,” Klaus said in a low voice, nervously. still not making eye contact with the man, in fear that it was actual Olaf in disguise.

“Spoiled brat wants a new debarker? Old rust one isn’t good enough for him, eh?” The foreman asked in a patronizing tone. “They’re over there, rich boy.” as he moved his arm to gesture at where they were located. That was what caught Klaus’ attention, the foreman didn’t point with his finger, he used his arm to more or less point. Klaus watched confused as the foreman lowered his oddly stiff arm.

“Wait…” Klaus said under his breath trying to figure out where he had seen this type of stiff arm before.

Before he could figure it out. He felt the foreman’s left foot give him a harsh, painful kick in the ass as he fell to the ground. His glasses slid off his face a few inches in front of him. He winced in pain as his mind scrambled to figure out what had happened.

The foreman walked in front of him and purposefully stepped on his glasses. “Whoopsie!” the foreman said in a mocking tone as he made his way back to the booth.

“Klaus!” Sunny yelled realizing her brother was on the floor. Phil looked up and noticed that Klaus was lying on the floor as well. He quickly grabbed Sunny and walked towards the boy. By the time Phil and Sunny reached him a small crowd of workers circled Klaus. This reminded him of when Olaf had both slapped him in the face and when Olaf had tortured him and his troupe just sat around and watched the show before them. He wiped a tear from his eyes as he looked up and saw a blurry blob that was small enough to be his sister.

“Specks!” Sunny yelled as she reached her brother, picking up his glasses for him, which meant, “Your glasses...they’re…”

“Twisted,”

“Cracked,”

“Hopelessly broken,”

“They look A-okay to me,” Phil commented giving Klaus two thumbs up.

Klaus put his broken glasses on his face and saw that his coworkers were correct. His glasses resembled a piece of modern sculpture that a friend of mine made a long time ago called Twisted, Cracked, and Hopelessly Broken.

“The foreman kicked me!” Klaus yelled angrily. “And then he stepped on my glasses!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! How could I kick him when I’m up in this booth?” Foreman Flacutono replied. “It was probably karma,”

“See?” Sunny asked desperately.

“A little,” Klaus replied.

“He’ll live,” Foreman Flacutono replied.

“Fucker!” Sunny yelled at the foreman as Phil helped Klaus up.

“Get back to work, midget,”

“He can’t work if he can’t see!” Phil explained.

“Too bad for him,”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Phil said calmly, “He needs an optometrist. A child could see that,”

“Not me,” Klaus said, “I can scarcely see anything.”

“Lucky for you, we’ve got a great optometrist right here in what’s left of our town,”

The Baudelaires’ eyes got wide with panic. “You mean the eye-shaped building?” Klaus asked nervously.

“Oh yeah! Dr. Orwell treats all the workers. You probably saw the coupon in your welcome packet. I better get you there.” Phil said

“No!” Sunny protested. “No take!”

But Foreman Flacutono began banging his pots together as the other mill workers turned on the machines to finish the day’s work.

“That building has the mark of a bad, bad man!” Klaus pleaded as Phil dragged him away from Sunny.

“Yoryar!” Sunny begged crawling as fast as she could to stop Phil from taking her brother away from her, this meant, “Please don’t take him to that building!” But Klaus wasn’t able to translate because neither he or Phil could hear Sunny over the machines. Klaus gave Sunny a hopeful smile.

“I’ll be fine!” he shouted to her. “Maybe I can find some answers!”

“Same!” She yelled back.

The Baudelaire sister watched in horror as Phil led Klaus out of the mill. The whirring sounds continued all around Sunny, and Foreman Flacutono was now yelling at her to get back to work as he smacked his pots together. But that wasn’t the loudest sound that the younger Baudelaire orphan hared. Louder than the machine, louder than the pots, louder than the foreman’s yelling, was the sound of her own furiously beating heart as Phil took her big brother away.

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surveys-at-your-service · 5 years

Text

Survey #205

forget picking song lyrics, i’m going the hell to bed now.

Do you live by yourself? I live with my mom. Do you like cleaning? Does anyone???? Who is your favorite character from Harry Potter? I've never watched the series; not even a single movie, actually. So I don't have an opinion. Do you watch PewDiePie? Extremely rarely. He's funny, but I'm not interested in his channel's content anymore. Do you like "Despacito?" My sister showed it to me once when she learned I'd never heard it, and I found zero appeal in it whatsoever. Do you play Pokemon Go? It's a brilliant idea, and I really do wish I could play it, but here where I live, there are like ZERO PokeStops (where you get Pokeballs), even in cities, so it's pretty much impossible. Did you ever color your hair pink? No. Do you like Dr. Phil? I don't watch the show and don't know him as a person. Do you prefer to be inside or outside? Inside. Do you eat meat? Sadly. I'm HOPEFULLY quitting when I get to the weight I want; I wasn't getting the nutrients I needed when I was vegetarian to where my body was desperately clinging to what it had or something like that (basically, my weight wouldn't budge in a couple of months), but even still, I don't know if I could do it without depriving myself again. I'm just such a picky eater. Do you need to do the dishes? Yeah. Not desperately, but. Are you scared of clowns? No. Do you have any subscribers on YouTube? *checks* A very impressive 66. Do you believe in ghosts? Yes. Do you salt your popcorn? Yes. Do you like McDonald's? Don't even lie to me, you'll eat there. I don't mind it at all. Do you have a Steam account? Yes. Do you like gaming? Not as much as I used to, but yes. Have you ever played Five Nights at Freddy’s? No. I don't consider jumpscares to be genuinely "scary," but rather a natural reaction to surprise, but FNAF's are intense, and I know they'd have me jumping like crazy. That aside, the games aren't of my personal appeal to actually play (though it's a fun game to watch). Do you like horror movies? Yes. Do you like chicken nuggets? I love me my chicken nuggies hunty. Have you ever tried Akinator? Yes. Can you twerk? I don't know and don't care to. Do you like dabbing? It looks stupid to me. The meme of it makes me laugh, though. What was the last country you visited? I've never left the country. Do you know your phone number? No, actually. It is incredibly difficult for me to memorize sequences, and besides, it's not like I give out my number almost ever. Do you swear in front of children? No. What’s your opinion on Brexit? Shit, I don't even remember what it's about. So obviously I can't have an opinion. It doesn't affect me, anyway. If you want children, what are some of your reasons for wanting them? N/A When you cook a dish that has beans in it, do you prefer to use canned or dry beans? I don't cook, and you'll never see me willingly eat a bean. What were some fun experiments you did in science class as a kid? The two that sharply stand out to me are dissecting an owl pellet in elementary and a frog in middle school. Both were SO cool. What was the last strong emotion you felt? Excitement. After finishing a bowl of cereal, do you drink the leftover milk? Only ever if it's Cinnamon Toast Crunch that I ate. And even then, only sometimes. Do you use dry shampoo between washes? No. What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done? Overdosing. What’s the most severe allergic reaction you’ve ever had to something? Nothing severe, besides pollen allergies flaring up. What’s your favorite sub-genre of rock? Hard. Who was the last person to get frustrated with you, and why? Mom, but she was more than frustrated. We were having a serious fight about her attitude towards Dad and his wife. What’s something that makes absolutely zero sense to you? Anti-vax shitlords. What’s your phone background? Lock screen is Darkiplier, home screen is Sara kissing my forehead. :'> Have you ever lived with someone you didn’t get along with? No. Do you have a fitness tracker? No. What types of animals have you had as pets? A billion cats, dogs, snakes, lizards, rats, gerbils, guinea pigs, rabbits, fish, box turtles, hermit crabs... and probably more. How well do you understand economics? Have you ever taken an econ class? Not well at ALL. I had one my senior year. What was the last fruit you ate? I had two bites out of a watermelon 'cuz I was really hungry, but we didn't really have anything as a snack. (I fast daily, so I have to watch when my meals are.) I'm not a big watermelon fan, but I hadn't tried these cubes before, and at least it was something. Can you remember your first day of school? I believe I can very faintly... very faintly. I think I had a complete breakdown because of my insane separation anxiety regarding my mom, or it was the complete opposite... alskdfjaweiajr it's like I can kinda see it in the back of my head, but it's super blurry. What’s your favorite movie? The Lion King. It was my favorite as a kid and became so again as an adult just truly acknowledging how damn good and meaningful it is. Plus the soundtrack was a banger. Would you rather jump out of an airplane or go scuba diving? Scuba diving. Do you get bored looking at other peoples’ holiday pictures? Eh. If it's a whole lot, yes, but as a photographer, I enjoy noting which ones I like and why I favor them. Do you give money to charity? Not currently, no. I have no money to give. When I do have a paying job, I plan on definitely donating any time Mark does a charity stream. Are you more into music or movies? Music, easily. When was the last time you went to a swimming pool? WOW. It's been years. Either when I still lived in the apartment or once at Colleen's in-laws', I can't remember which was last. Would you rather have a pet snake or a pet turtle? I have a snake, and I'll take another for sure. Have you ever seen a band live? Who was the last you saw? Just Alice Cooper. Ma and I are seeing Ozzy next year (if the poor man ain't dead), tho!!!! And he's gonna be with Judas Priest and Megadeth. We are NOT going to survive. Do people who use massive amounts of emoticons annoy you? Yes. Emojis, more specifically. If you're writing a sentence and you use an emoji after each and every goddamn word, it drives me up a wall. What was the last clothing item you bought? Underwear, I believe? Or a bra? What does your washing powder smell like? Idk. Normal? Do you have a dishwasher or do you do dishes by hand? By hand, which I cannot explain how much I loathe. It feels disgusting. Are there any cobwebs in your room? I don't believe so, no. Have you ever used a pick-up line and had it work? Ew, I'd never use one to begin with. Have you ever entered a modelling competition? Would you? No to both. The current modelling industry is so, so harmful. Did you keep any drawings/stories from when you were younger? Like around two years ago, I remember going on a mass destruction episode of those super old things, as they embarrassed me horribly, even though I know it had no real reason. Just everything I create embarrasses me. My mom has old school stuff, though. Who did you last have an argument with? Mom today. When was the last time you cooked for yourself? If you include putting things in the microwave with few steps... not that long ago. Maybe two days back. Do you have a safe? Mom does. When was the last time you saw a relative? Mooonths ago when Grammy and her husband were driving through. My brother and his son are visiting real soon, though!! Do you shout out the answers at quiz shows? Yes, lol. Have you ever been in a TV audience? I've been to like three-four hockey games, so yeah. Have you ever entered the lottery? Won anything? No. Well, Mom or Dad would rarely get those scratch-off tickets at random, but the most we've ever got was just like five bucks or so. Do you prefer crosswords or word searches? Word searches. Have you ever drawn on a wall in your house? No. Do you like making collages? No. Have you ever kept a scrapbook? Yeah. What’s your favorite video-game? Silent Hill 2 and Shadow of the Colossus. Sigh, I want a PS4 SO bad to get the SotC remaster. I actually teared up when I saw the opening cutscene for the first time, and I just marveled through the EEEEEEENNNNtire playthrough I watched. It's unbelievable. Do you remember any inside jokes from childhood? Not off the top of my head. I'm tired, don't make me think. Have you ever made up a word? Well, as a writer, I've made up names and places. A word itself, I don't think so. Do you get nervous speaking to people you don’t know on the phone? VERY!!!!!!!! Are you scared of anything irrational? You mean like, half my fears? Do you have a passport? What’s the picture like? No. Have you ever had a full fringe? (bangs) As a kid I did. Is there anything you would never admit to liking? Don't think so. What’s the weirdest craze you can remember? Fidget spinners. Do you use bug spray or fly swatters? Fly swatters. Then we also have this hanging cylindrical sticky... thing that flies and gnats are apparently attracted to with the smell, I guess. Works like magic, though I agree it's pretty cruel. Just stuck there until you die. Are you a clumsy person? Boy, am I. Do you have tiled floors in your house? In three rooms. Do you listen to any movie soundtracks regularly? No. Do you bruise easily? Way too easily. Like normally something simple won't leave behind an obvious one, but even a normal poke in the arm hurts a lot and leaves the spot sore for a good while. I was tested for anemia, but apparently, I don't have it. What would you love to learn to do? Play the electric guitar. Do you prefer monkeys or lemurs? Ehhh... lemurs as far as cute goes, monkeys overall. Do you watch movies based on the actors or the movie plot? The plot. Do you have any phone charms on your mobile? No. What is your opinion on sex without emotional commitment? That's a big 'ole honkin' nope. Last time you puked from drinking? Never. Have you ever gotten drunk and danced on a bar? No. What is your favorite simple ice-cream flavor? Vanilla. Though sometimes I prefer chocolate. Do you pay attention to calories on the back of packages? Only for dinner. I forgot the science behind it, but one of my meds for bipolarity only works to its full effect after ingesting at least 350 calories; I only get about a 20% effectiveness of the medicine when eating less. I know it sounds weird, but my psychiatrist is a goddamn genius, and I trust every word that comes out of his mouth. When was the last time you slept on the floor? Two years ago when I was living with Colleen and I didn't have a blow-up mattress yet. Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoos? When???????????????? do I?????????????? not???????????????????????????????????? Do you wear flip-flops? That's pretty much all I wear just about year-round... I remember in 7th grade, one of my teachers asked me about it a lot and I just told her I didn't mind the cold, which was true. Pretty sure she thought I was lying and was too poor to buy new clothes or something, as she gifted me socks one day, which I thought was incredibly sweet. I miss my 7th grade teachers. Best school year. Who was the last person to kiss you on the cheek? Pretty sure my niece Aubree when saying bye. What is your favorite sauce to eat with spaghetti? Normal Prego sauce, I think. Have you ever seen a magic show? A little one as a kid. When was the last time you vomited and why? Months and months ago when I was testing a medication. Quit that shit real fast, as it made me sick so many times. Where do you usually sit when you eat dinner? Uhhh I eat in my bed usually, lmao. We almost never sit at the table. I normally do if Mom's there, though. How often do you get headaches? Ugh, often. Why did you call the last person you called? I was calling back about my job application that I was supposed to hear about yesterday. How many windows are in the room you’re in? Two. Do you have Facebook friends that you’ve never actually met? Yes. When was the last time you had your photo taken professionally? Not since senior pictures, pretty sure. I hated how it came out. I have a lazy eye when I smile, gah. How long does it take you to get to school or work? Currently N/A. Let’s say you had a baby with the last person you kissed? We're both female, so. And neither of us want kids anyway. When was the last time you completely broke down? A couple weeks ago in a totally random and severe panic attack. Do you have someone you can spill your heart out to? Yeah. Is there a person that you would do absolutely anything and everything for? No. I'm not gonna, say, murder someone just because they want me to. What’s something you really want right now? To go and get my tattoo cleaned up by a more professional artist alsdkjfalwei. I got the approximate cost, I just have to wait until I can afford it. This tattoo is so so so important to me and it needs to be perfect. What is your relationship status? Taken. What was the longest time you’ve wasted on a certain person? Not even two weeks lmao. I said yes to dating mostly out of fear of hurting his feelings, and he QUICKLY proved he was NOT for me. Are you listening to music right now? Yeah, my iTunes is on shuffle. Anyone you would like to get things straight with? I wouldn't want to be friends I don't think, but I REALLY want to see Jason one final time to tell him how sorry I am. I recently acknowledged just how fucked up I treated him after the breakup; he wasn't the only one who made mistakes. I sure as hell did. He deserves to hear it badly. I do believe our last talk was a good ending, but I feel me finally admitting that I fucked up would be the perfect one. What was the best thing that happened to you today? Seeing Dad for his birthday. When was the last time you did something for the first time? I talk-talked to some WoW friends a couple days ago, though very very briefly. I couldn't figure Discord push-to-talk out and I ended up panicking lmao. What color are the last new pair of pants that you bought? Black. Is your room clean? I should dust and vacuum, but the latter doesn't currently work. List all the countries you’ve visited. I've never left America. At what age would you allow your kids to dye their hair? Shit, whenever they wanted tbh. So long they sounded serious about it and it wasn't just a brief episode of "oh this would be cool." Which fast food place do you eat at the most? Hm. Wendy's or Sonic. When was the last time you weren’t lonely? Jesus fucking Christ, who knows. What kind of movies do you like? Horror, fantasy, Disney/kids' films, comedies, rom coms, and emotionally moving ones. Bats are not spooky or are they? They're adorable, omg. Do you think blue is a gay color? Fuck off. What's your opinion on gays? Fuck off harder. Do you like the song "Womanizer"? Don't even talk to me if you don't. Where is your favorite place to get fries? You can't live your fullest life without having Bojangle's fries at least once. Do you know anyone who was raised by their grandparents? Idk. Have you ever made your own pie from scratch? No. Who was the last person you had an in-depth conversation with? Sara. What was the last fast food item you ate? A hot dog. What is your favorite gaming console? You know PS2 was the best, you know it. What was the last major city you visited? Raleigh, if that even counts. Do you always have a stock of alcohol in your house? No. Have you ever had a pumpkin latte and if so, did you like it? I hate everything pumpkin-flavored. Is there an antique store in your town or city? I think so... Have you ever been to a baby shower? My sister's. Maybe others', but idr. Do you know anyone who has been to rehab? Pretty sure yes. How many romantic relationships have you been in so far? Genuinely "romantic" ones, two. Would you consider yourself to be a picky eater? I am 99% sure I am the pickiest human being to ever live. Have you ever lived in a house with a pool in the yard? Not a built-in one. What color is your toothbrush? Blue. Do you have gluten intolerance or know anyone who does? I know a few people. Have you ever slept in a car overnight? No. Have you ever fainted? Yes. Do you avoid conflict as much as possible? YUP. Do you like ice cream cake? I'm not a big fan. Have you ever made out with someone of the same sex? Yes. Where is your second home!? The place I'm second-most comfortable is probably Sara's. What song always makes you sad? I avoid listening to "The Mortician's Daughter" by Black Veil Brides unless I just really, really want to hear it. I always tear up due to memories. Have you ever played a game that required removing your clothes? No. Where is your favorite place to be kissed? Breasts and neck. Were you mean as a little kid? No. Who was the last person you hung out with? Dad. What is your mother’s name? Donna. What is your favorite song at the moment? I've been in true love with a heavy metal cover of "Invincible" from the WoW soundtrack for like a full month. What day will you never forget? The breakup night. Suicide attempt. My niece and nephew being born. Meeting Sara. Getting Teddy. First time hanging out at Jason's. 16th birthday. Alice Cooper concert. Putting Dale and Cali down. There's a lot. What was the last thing you took a picture of? Some crazy shit on FB to show Sara. Something you're looking forward to? Getting a goddamn job. What is God teaching you right now? Lul. What does Notre Dame Cathedral mean to you, and how has its fire affected you? I was devastated to hear about it; it was the one event that actually got me paying attention to the news. It is a monument of incredible art and history, and for Catholics, a house of their god. I am so thankful the damage wasn't too tremendous. What’s the last dumb decision you made that you beat yourself up over? I dunno. Surprisingly. What’s your favorite version of the Bible to read? N/A If applicable, do you underline verses in your Bible? N/A When was the last time you went to church? Not since Colleen had her extreme Christian phase two years ago. What’s the last song you listened to on repeat? "Radio" by Rammstein. That new album's gonna be bangin'. Does your town’s hospital have a good reputation? NOPE. It sure does not. I have no issue with the psychiatric care unit there, though. Every time I went to the ER for suicidal thoughts or the attempt, they were sweethearts to me. But as far as physical health, they do NOT have a good rep. I know someone's grandfather that nearly fucking died thanks to them, and I can't recall what it was exactly, but Mom had some complaints during her kidney cancer treatment. What is your hometown known for? Crime. Are you longing for and missing a toxic person? I honestly miss Colleen sometimes, but I can't go back to her. I can't. I'm done giving her more chances than she deserves. It was nice to actually have someone to hang out with, but she is just overall not a pleasant person. What’s your greatest longing? Financial stability, probably. Have you ever read a Bible verse and thought, “this isn’t true”? BOY HOWDY- What are you behind on? Being an adult. I am 23 and a SOOOOOORRYYYYYY excuse for one. Is there someone who’s stolen from you and never got caught? Yes. Someone stole our basketball hoop from my childhood home. Have you been lonely for most of your life? Most of my life, no. What color is your sleeping bag? I don’t have one. When was the last time you used a sleeping bag, and what for? When I lived with Colleen and slept on the floor for a bit. Do you live near the woods? Yeah, there's woods across the road. What do you want to be for Halloween this year? List 1-3 ideas. I wanna be the dumb blonde witch from Hocus Pocus, lmao. A pastel vampire would be pretty cool. And Rhett from the "Sleep Tight" video has instilled in me the great desire to be a steampunk toothfairy at least once. List five things people have been jealous of you for. Idk. List five things you have felt jealous of other people for. More than anyone, a friend of many friends' photography success when I can genuinely and modestly say I really think I'm better than her. That is easily the worst envy situation I've dealt with (and still do), as this is the one that is actually almost spiteful, wrong as that is. Then I have another friend who is a FANTASTIC photographer as well and is now a professional one in the fashion industry, I believe. Then there was a girl I went to school with called Cailin whose drawing skills were naturally INCREDIBLE since elementary school, and I remember back then, me and her would always get the most attention for our work, but she did moreso, but I wanted to be the "best" artist. Once I hit high school I just had great respect for her talent. Next, one of my former best friends Hannia was a natural GENIUS that got perfect scores on LITERALLY almost anything; she had the highest GPA in the entire school, while I was right behind her. And uhhhh five... I have been and still am jealous of my sisters for being proper, successful adults. What is your favorite shade of brown? Like a caramel tone, I guess? What color is your toilet seat? White. Would you rather live in an apartment or a house? Definitely a house. What’s one thing you had growing up that you miss now? Energy. Do you prefer kale, lettuce, or spinach? Lettuce. Do you listen to instrumental bands such as Hammock, Trentemoller, etc.? No. Have you ever gotten a manicure or pedicure? Just because my sisters went and Mom wanted me to hang out with them. I may have with my old friend, too. Have you ever self-harmed? Yeah. Never the answer. Do you have any eating disorders? No. I'm afraid of developing one once I (hopefully) get to the weight I want, though. Have you ever met a celebrity? No. Do you like Monster Energy or do you prefer other energy drinks? I hate energy drinks. They taste like poison. Do you plan on getting married? Yeah. Do you want kids? That's a big fat nope. What’s your sexual orientation? I don’t judge. Bisexual. At what time of day do you normally feel the best? The morning. Name one reason why someone should not commit suicide. YOU. CAN. GET. BETTER. Seek professional help if you feel suicidal, and after what I understand is a serious struggle, you truly can go into the light at the end of the tunnel. You've got, to our understanding, one shot at this. Don't end it when there is a possibility for a beautiful future. If you’re unhappy, what would it take to make you fulfilled? Have a job and be in school. Name someone you know who is a cancer survivor. My mom. Are you friends with any cancer survivors? I don't think so. Do you wish the sunrise and sunset lasted longer? Hm. Sunset, maybe. Idk. Name a country whose history you know nothing about. Lmao most. What is your favorite store at the mall? Hot Topic. Do you have a bed or do you sleep on a mattress on the floor? I have a bed. When was the last time you went for a run? Shit, not since high school gym. Do you keep Christmas lights up year-round? No. What did you win a scholarship for? Nowhere. What type of bug do you see the most often in your home? Flies. Do you put off things until the last minute? I tend to. Is your mom the same size as you? No, I'm smaller. Do you know any Christians who aren’t judgmental? No shit. Do you still think of that Gwen Stefani song when you spell bananas? Ha ha yup. Do you like the way your hair naturally is, or do you change it? It's fine. But I want it dyed badly. Do you know anyone who died accidentally by doing something stupid? Yes. How many different languages have you taken in school? Latin and German. How tall is your father? (Estimate?) Idk. Over six feet. Would you meet Miley Cyrus if you had the chance? No. What is your favorite slow song? Oh yeesh. Idk. Maybe "See You On The Other Side" by Ozzy. Do you believe in karma? No. Do you constantly check your cell phone? No. Only Sara or Mom ever text me, and I pick it up just if the green light is blinking (means I have a message). If there were aliens on earth, would you be afraid? Well yeah. If you could spend 1 hour 20 years in the future, would you? Yes. I want to see where I am, so long as I can change my behavior to improve that future if needed. Otherwise, I don't wanna know. Are your pets asleep? Teddy probably is, Bentley might be, idk where Roman is, but he likely is, I can't see Mitsu from where I am currently, Venus may be (no eyelids, so you never know) as she's in her rock, and Kaiju is awake. Have you ever wished you were an only child? Never. Have you ever hurt someone on purpose? Yes. Have you ever gotten hurt while sledding? No. Do you enjoy going through old pictures? It depends on the subject of them and my mental state. Kid pictures I'm always up for, high school ones are okay, though they can make me really upset with how healthy and skinny I was, and I deleted all photos I had on Facebook of Jason and me last year so I couldn't even risk looking at them ever again, as there's a good chance some would trigger my PTSD. Of all your exes, who do you think you had the deepest feelings for? Jason, obviously. Do you tend to have a lot of drama in your life? I have the most uneventful, bland life. No. When’s the last time someone was disappointed in you? Idk. What song are you listening to right now? Is this one of your favorite songs? "Alone I Break" by Korn. No, but I love it. What is something you have to explain a lot? My sweating issue. Gross to talk about, but I sweat seriously excessively, like you would not believe. It can be 70 degrees and I'll be sweating in seconds. People worry about it, and in VR, I've had to explain it so many times due to it affecting suitable jobs (I think we can all agree being drenched in sweat at work looks extremely bad). Hopefully I won't have to anymore when my doctor decides what to do about it. It's most likely a thyroid issue, which I have no clue about how to subdue symptoms of. There's really a shitload I have to explain lately between doctors and VR... Which compliment do you receive the most? From those that know me/see me, that I'm losing weight. From people in general, "I love your hair" or something like that. Who were you last on the phone with? My sister. What is one thing you have always wondered? Uh. Idk. I'm sure there's a lot, just nothing's coming to me atm... What do your friends think about the music you listen to? Your family? My friends and I like similar stuff, as do my parents, especially Mom. My sisters are the total opposite of me and don't enjoy metal and the like at all. Has anyone ever told you to grow up? Essentially. Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people? Hell no. How many true friends do you have? Excluding family and my girlfriend as they're more than that, like... one or two, it feels like most of the time. Can you honestly say you’re happy right now? No. What is something you are exceptionally bad at? Doing math in my head or spelling up there. AND READING LIPS. Do you have a house phone? No. Who do you love more than anyone right now? Don't make me choose between Mom and Sara. How much money do you have saved up? I literally have $11. Do you like bright/neon colors? Yes, but I prefer pastel. What is your favorite wild animal? Meerkats. Do you ever eat breakfast? I almost always do. Do you remember who your first grade teacher was? Yes. Have you ever won any trophies? What for? Yeah, for A honor roll all through elementary school (save for 5th grade; I got one B and was so upset, lmao), then in all kid sports I played, everyone got lil ones, some from dance I believe, and I think there's one or two others I'm not thinking of...

#survey #quiz #questions #random

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emperorsfoot · 5 years

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YJ Fic #7: “Rebound”

Originally posted on FanFiction.Net on 6/2/12

This one is actually really shitty, so I’m glad I’m posting it during a time when there’s not a lot of traffic. Gives me the opportunity to bury it under other posts before anyone has the chance to see it.

Anyway...

This was originally written before Lagoon Boy got decent screen time and spoken lines. Back when he was still more of a background prop for M’gaan to use to make Superboy uncomfortable.

I mention this because Lagoon Boy is super out of character in this fic.

But I hope you manage to enjoy it anyway.

Summary: “His Angel-fish always seems to moan just a bit louder when Superboy's in the room. -ONESHOT-”

Rebound:

She's my wonderful beloved Angle-fish. M'gann… She sweet-tempered and good-natured. She loves her brother and cares for the Team almost like she's everyone's big sister. But she doesn't kiss like a sister. Oh, no. Not. At. All.

Her kisses the measured, passionate but controlled sort of kisses that leave a man wanting more when she pulls away. …So much more. They're the kind of kisses that almost compel me to beg for more. To get on my knees, press my fins together and plead 'Please, Angel-fish, I need you!' And then when she moans! Neptune's Beard! When she moans… It just makes me want to pick her up, carry her to a room –hers or mine, it doesn't matter- and do all sorts of less-than-honorable things with her.

And yet… I cannot help but notice that she always seems to kiss a bit harder or moan a little bit louder whenever the Superboy is around. –Almost as if she were trying to put on a little show for him.

I asked her about it once, very early in our relationship, in fact. But she denied it. Why would she be exaggerating her feelings for me whenever he was around? She had asked. I was the one she was with. When we are together, it's just about us. Other people are immaterial. This was exactly what I wanted to hear, so I believed her instantly and didn't give it any more thought.

Then I learned that she and the Superboy used to be lovers before I joined the Team.

It was her brother whom told me. –Let it slip was more like it. As if her dating history were supposed to be kept secret.

I wanted to try and get to know the boy better, Garfield Logan, because above all others on the Team (myself included) my Angel-fished cared for him the most. So I endeavored to ingratiate myself to the boy. I admit that I found –and still fined- the overly energetic shape-shifter to be a tad obnoxious. But we both love his sister, and so we both agreed to spend the day together.

It was as we were walking along the beach, the waves lapping at my feet, his zigzagging all over the place changing into crabs, and gulls, and all manner of beach and tide-pool dwelling creatures, that the slip occurred. He was telling old stories about the Team –the first Team. Most of the names were just that, names. I had never met Kid Flash or Artemis and so could not put faces to their names. Kaldu'ram I though I had known very well and still did not believe what Nightwing had told us about him.

I paused in my trail of thought as the boy's last few words sunk into my skull. Lifting my head I did a double take. "What did you say?"

"KF and Arty walked onto the bio-ship and found Conner and sis making out in the captain's chair." Gar repeated in a bit of an irritated huff. Children tended to act that way when they thought the adults around them weren't paying attention.

Then I asked the stupidest question that ever escaped my lips since finishing puberty. "Why was Angel-fish kissing Superboy?"

The little shape-shifter's hands went to his mouth in a near perfect imitation of the 'Speak no Evil' monkey and his eyes went wide. He didn't say it out loud, but I could clearly read it in his face. If M'gann hadn't already told me, then she hadn't wanted me to know and Gar had just let slip something that was supposed to be a secret.

Suddenly, it all made so much more sense. She did kiss harder when he was around. She did moan louder when he was in earshot. She was putting on a show for him. The realization left me with the question of 'Why?' screaming through my mind. Followed closely by, 'Why did she lie when I confronted her about it weeks ago?'

I pondered those two questions the entire rest of the day and when we came back in, I confronted her about it directly. Two simple and pointed questions that summarized my feelings completely.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Superboy dated? Are you just using me to make him jealous?"

There then ensued the first fight we ever had. It was also the longest fight we've had to date.

She called be nosy and over-bearing with no right to pry into her past. I said she was being secretive and that made everything she did suspect. We both said things we regretted. Feelings were hurt. Apologies were made. Things were explained. Some things were understood. Other things I think I will forever be confused about. Most things were forgiven.

But, after much fishing on my part, M'gann finally confessed that –at the onset of our relationship- she had been using be to get back at Superboy. He had been the one to break-up with her and she harbored some resentment towards him because of it. (I did not ask why he broke-up with her.) I told her that she was still my Angel-fish and I loved her, but I refused to be a pawn in her romantic battles with an ex-lover.

M'gann nodded gravely and admitted that I was just supposed to be a fun little fling. She hadn't meant to develop true feelings for me, it just happened. She hadn't tried to use me against the Superboy in several weeks –at least not to her conscious knowledge. That was good enough for me. –At least, for the time being.

Something about the situation still continued to bother me, though.

It wasn't any one thing I could put my finger on. It was just an abstract feeling. A slight chill in the room while we would be cuddling on the couch watching TV. A tingling on the back of my neck or even down my spine when we would sometimes kiss. …And then a punch that landed perhaps a bit harder than was necessary for a simple training exercise. I massaged my throbbing jaw and gazed up at my sparring partner for that session as if seeing him for the first time.

I had come to terms with and made peace with the fact that M'gann had first been trying to use me against him when we stared dating. It had been a conversation spoken between she and I. A peace made between she and I. But there was a third factor that I hadn't considered. A third person I had completely failed to acknowledge.

I waved off the hand Superboy offered to help me up and climbed to my feet myself. Only aster I was once again on an eye level with him did I realize he probably took it as a snub. I should have let him help me, since he knew he had hit harder than he should have (and with his strength, that was not a habit he could allow himself to have). I did not exactly avert my eyes from his, but I did realize for the first time just how unearthly a shade of blue they were and for the first time since joining the Team, I was intimidated.

"Do you know what you did wrong?" He asked.

I looked back up at him startled. Were we really gonna have this confrontation right here?

"You extended your stance to far." Continued the Superboy. "It left your whole left side open. If this had been a real fight, you'd be dead."

Right. Training.

I relaxed and rejoined the others on the edge of the ring.

"Cass! Front and center!" He continued with the lesson as if nothing had happened, and perhaps from his end nothing had.

It was entirely possible that that punch had simply been a miscalculation on his part and not a passive-aggressive attempt to bate me into doing or saying something I'd regret. Come to think of it, from the little I knew of him, Superboy wasn't really a subtle guy. He didn't do 'subtext'. If he had a problem with you, he would state it outright. Not throw sucker-punches when he could get away with it and then sit and seethe when he couldn't.

Still, I resolved to confront him all the same.

Not about the punch. I didn't really care about it that much. But about M'gann. I felt there were words that needed to be spoken between us. It felt almost like one of those strange 'Bro Code' things that is often talked about here on the surface. Truth be told, I'm not to familiar with the concept. I just wanted to make sure one of the senior members –a man was could be considered a mentor (by proxy)- didn't hate my guts. Especially not one with Superman-like powers. I enjoy keeping all my internal organs on the inside. Thank you.

It was several more days until I actually worked up the courage to talk to the man, however.

What can I say? Sometimes I'm as cowardly as a catfish.

I found him laying on the beach –sunbathing. It had taken me the longest time after joining the Team to figure out why he did this, he never tanned. His skin was always the same uniform shade of olive. It never darkened, never blemished. Then someone reminded me that kryptonians gained their powers from Earth's yellow sun. Duh! In the words of my beloved Angel-fish, 'Hello, La'gaan!'

It was approaching afternoon, the sun just beginning to dip closer to the land. My shadow fell over him as I approached.

One crystal-blue eyelid cracked open and stared up at me. I froze in my step.

"You're blocking my sun."

"Sorry!" I quickly jumped to the side.

He said nothing more, his eye once again closing. I felt like I should leave him, let him recharge his solar batteries (or whatever) in peace. But I had come out here for a reason. It was just him and me on the beach. Now was the perfect time to have the conversation I felt were had to have.

I sat down in the sand.

It was low-tide, the waves were nowhere near me and I suddenly wished to feel the comforting cool waters of the sea flowing around me.

He did not sit up, did not even open his eyes when he asked, "Did you want something?"

"No." The word is out of my mouth so quickly I'm unable to stop it. Then I quickly amend, "Yes."

Then I shut up because I'm sounding like an idiot.

Now he does sit up. More of a lean actually. Propping himself up on his elbows, his almost luminous blue eyes fixed me with a sidelong glance, silently asking, 'What do you want?'

There is a beat of silence between us as I realize I have no idea what I wanted to say. Words needed to be spoken between us, this I knew. But what those words actually were was really just an abstract idea in my head. Finally, I decided to just be honest and speak from the heart. It's what my King would have told me to do –had he still been on the planet at the time.

"Superboy, I- I feel as if I should apologize to you." I begin, feeling every bit the fool as it is possible to feel.

"For blocking my sun?" He asks. "You already did."

"No, I…" I'm stuttering like newly spawned guppy and clamp my jaw shut quickly. A moment later I've gathered my thoughts more coherently and begin again. "About M'gann. I want to apologize if my behavior ever offended you. I only recently found out you two had dated."

"I know." He laid back down in the sand. "Gar told me."

"You're not mad?" I ask, skeptical of his calm exterior. I know he is not the subtle type, but I've also been told that he can hold grudges and brood quietly for almost immeasurable expanses of time. I'd rather not have a powerful demi-kryptonian secretly loathing my existence if I can help it.

He once again cracked one eye open at me. "You are not the one who tried to manipulate me into making a scene –several times."

"You knew?"

He smiled up at the sky. "Well, I did kinda date her for four years. It's a little hard to sleep with someone for one thousand and sixty-one days and not get to know them."

"You slept together?"

Stupid question. I knew my Angel-fish was no virgin. We may not have made it that far just yet, but she was far to good a kisser to have never gone farther. Her tongue was to experienced. Her moans to practiced. Superboy young and fit, perpetually in the onset of his prime… of course they had slept together.

That smile changed to a knowing smirk, but he did not look at me when he said, "That's a loaded question."

He was right. And, I quickly realized that, while I might already have guessed the answer, I did not want to hear it. Instead, I returned to the original reason for my coming here. "Will you accept my apology?"

The Superboy missed one… two… three beats before –still not looking at me- he said, "No."

I would be lying if I said this answer did not shock me. He said it with such a calm serenity to his voice, I almost didn't register it as a negative. When my brain finally did process it, all I could say in response was, "Why?"

Now he did look at me once again. The Superboy sat up properly, not propped up on his elbows, but cross-legged –lotus position- in the sand. His crystal gaze was leveled with mine when he asked, "Do you know what it is you're apologizing for?"

My answer was right on the edge of my lips, but I found myself hesitant to answer. Finally, I said, "When we started dating, I was just a rebound. M'gann wanted to make you jealous and she was using me to further that goal. I guess… I'm apologizing for the part that I played in that."

Superboy nodded, not in acceptance but in understanding. Then he continued, "And did you know that's what she was doing before hand? Did you agree to participate in her scheme knowing her intentions?"

"No!" I'm quick to assure him.

"Then you are not the one who needs to apologize." He laid back down in the sand. "It's hot out here, go take a dip in the water so you don't dry out."

It made me feel like a child when he said this and I admit, I was reluctant to comply. But he was right. Sitting in the hot sun on the dry part of the beach isn't exactly the best thing for Atlantian physiology.

I sprint into he waves and splash around for a bit before sitting under the surface and just breathing in the wonderful salty water. I don't really like the waters close to populated centers; it always has a very… unnatural scent to it. But Happy Harbor isn't quite s bad as other places like, say, Los Angeles or New York, and breathing water always comes easier than breathing air.

I take the opportunity to swim a few short laps around the bay. When I come back to the beach behind Mount Justice the sun had dipped low behind the ridge and Superboy is nowhere to be found. That was fine, I supposed. He said I had nothing to apologize for, so I assume that meant that he held no animosity towards me.

It didn't occur to me until I reentered the base that I never got the chance to ask him why he broke-up with her in the first place…

…

END

#lagoon boy #Superboy #Young Justice #season 2 #lagoonmartian #supermartian #RenkonNairu #fan fic #old fic #repost

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the-apples-were-monitored · 5 years

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jellyfish graveyard

Memories crunching underfoot like the seashells on the gravel path to the shore- Hard and sharp beneath my skin, calloused from running too long without shoes- Can hear waves crash before me, so close, so close- But i’m still in the dirt road of my past.

Laura asks me now when i was happy And i cannot honestly say i have an answer Maybe i was, in the before But was there ever before?

I remember the hermit crabs.

We were not a seafaring people So i do not know if we genuinely thought they were hermit crabs Or if that’s what i assumed they were and nobody bothered to correct me. 11 years since last i saw them, to only now find… They were coquina clams.

Tiny hermit child, alone in the muddy water- Scooping up a handful of mud and clams- you drop them back and watch them burrow Before you scoop them into the light- Reminding there is no permanent escape You’re not invisible- You’re not alone.

I remember the castle.

you called it a castle, But 11 years on, I see it as the first hole i dug myself into. I am the hermit girl, burrowing, burrowing into the sand- Not trying to reach China, or some other side of the world- Just trying to make my walls so thick they’d block out the world. You’re not invisible- You’re not alone.

Memory isn’t reliable. It crunches underfoot like seashells on the gravel path- Sharp, yes, but your skin does get thick. You don’t even feel the jellyfish, You’ve had worse, You’ll have worse, still, than that. Were you happy always wandering off on your own adventures? You supposed it was better to have no one notice you were gone. Little girl, listening to the Pretenders, pretending to be happy. As I am now, still, 11 years on, listening to the Pretenders, pretending to be happy.

You can give things name, speaking them into existing, But they’ll always be at the end of a gravel path, just out of reach.

Were you ever happy? Little girl who was “too mature” and “too immature” all at once. A girl of contradiction. Were you ever happy with yourself? Life has always been too big for you. You never understood.

You were like that struggling butterfly that flung itself into the sea. You fished it out and dried it off But it flew right back in again. You can’t prevent self-destruction, you can only delay it.

Wait a year, then you’ll see.

You were happy when you were alone. But you weren’t alone. So you weren’t happy.

You were safe when you were alone. But you weren’t alone. So you weren’t safe.

You never understood the distinction.

He wasn’t there, little pretender. Not in the graveyard of hurricane-swept jellyfish. You walked barefoot through those corpses and barely felt the sting. He wasn’t there to scoop you up like that small seahorse that landed in your palm. You let it go in your surprise, the way so many others would do for you. Don’t regret letting it go, little hermit- You’d either have crushed it or suffocated it. Don’t make it like you.

You’re in your last peaceful dream. You won’t recognize it soon. You didn’t know it then, but that was the last time you’d be out of his reach. In a year’s time, there’d be no beach, no money, no mother. Not that you’d ever had much of those things to begin with.

Were you ever happy? No, because you understood, more than anyone, what he was. He is why you won’t blame the jellyfish. Even the live ones that stung you only did out of fear. He knew what he was doing when he’d wring the ocean from your eyes He knew what he was doing when he’d make them swell shut.

You can’t buy love for a sand dollar.

They’ll say he didn’t do it. Your memory isn’t reliable. It’s the broken seashells- It’s the misnamed mollusks- It’s a lie - a fantasy - you tell yourself to justify the hole you dig yourself into.

Your memory is the jellyfish graveyard. It stretches on, a reminder of a distant storm. You can tiptoe through all you want, but you’ll still get hurt. You didn’t give yourself those callouses. You didn’t put up those walls just because you could. It’s why you would drift so far, you driftwood girl.

Girl of contradiction, Wanting to be invisible and be seen. Wanting to be left alone and accepted. You understand enough at 13 to know that however much you want people- It’s not safe to let them know you. So you bury those feelings like coquina clams Always digging them up again.

Child, you’re too young to know your childhood was stolen from you. You sense the injustice of it, but don’t know yet what to call it. Someday your anger will burn like the sun on your broken back. You were never a child, so now you can never be grown up. You’re stuck in a bubble, trying to find peace.

You can’t buy back a childhood for a sand dollar. Believe me, i’m still trying.

#sorry about this #wrote it ages ago but only just now decided to post it #because it's after midnight and i'm still having mild depression #not as bad as when i wrote this but i had to get it out #because am i really in pain if i don't ask for attention #the selfishness of the artiste #anyway all true things from my childhood just regurgitated out #this is not a poem this is a list of sins #abuse tw #self harm tw #i have bpd i seek validation only after midnight because then people won't tell that i'm not forgetting all the work i did in therapy #i know i'm pretentious it's my right as an alien

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jbrentonparker · 5 years

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“A Wish” (A Fairy Tale Retold)

He went up the hill to the cliff overlooking the roiling sea with the intention of throwing himself off of it, but when he arrived, someone else was already there.

He stopped in his tracks, his arms full of crumpled letters, dog-eared books, and a pair of white cotton socks that the wild wind was threatening to tear from his grasp, and stared at the silhouetted figure that stood motionless at the cliff's edge. It was a woman, standing alone in the sea of heather that blanketed the rocky hillside for miles. Her hair whipped about her head in a tangled mass of gold, her dress straining and billowing against her legs like a sail about to catch the wind. She faced away from him, out over the ocean, and was so still and isolated that he might have thought her a specter if he had seen her in the gloom of night rather than the full light of day.

First incredulity, then hot anger rose in his chest, and his face flushed. Wrenches were thrown into plans he had spent the entire morning crafting, and he spluttered and swore to himself until he overcame his shock. With narrowed eyes and squared shoulders, he continued to wade through the dense heather up toward the woman, crushing the hardy little flowers underfoot.

The passion of the moment was somewhat spoiled when a crumpled sheet of hand written poetry escaped his grasp and was caught on the wind, tumbling end over end in mad cartwheels. With another oath, he chased it down, running awkwardly through knee high shrubs and struggling not to drop any of the other mementos he held. Finally, his heart pounding and his ears aching from the cold bite of the roaring wind, he pinned the paper beneath one foot and was able to squat down so he could just barely grab the edge of it with two fingers. Sweaty, red faced, and quite out of breath, he looked up and saw that his mad dash had brought him nearly back at the bottom of the hill―as opposed to at the bottom of the sea, which is where he had planned to be by now.

The passion and spontaneity of the thing had been thoroughly lost, and for a brief moment his determination wavered. He hadn't really thought much about the bottom of the ocean.

But the fire of pride wasn't so quick to burn out. He clung fiercely to that, and with grim determination to give that woman, whoever she was, a piece of his mind, he struggled all the way back up the hill for a second time.

"What,” he panted when he finally trudged up behind her, too short of breath to sound as fierce as he had intended, “are you doing here?”

The woman hadn't seemed to notice his approach until he spoke. She slowly turned her head toward him, as if reluctant to look away from the view of the endless, gray sea. She didn't seem startled to see him there, and only glanced at him briefly with pale eyes before turning back to the water.

“I'm going to jump into the sea,” she said in a soft, almost dreamy voice.

“You can't!” he snapped at her.

Now she did turn to look at him properly, her brow furrowing. “What? Why not?”

“Because, I'm jumping off the cliff today!” And he stomped his foot as he said it.

“Why?” the woman asked.

He swelled a little, adjusting his grip on the bundles of papers, books, and socks. “My lover left me.”

“So you're going to throw yourself off a cliff?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you see these here?” he said, jerking his chin at the treasures he clutched to his chest. “These are all the letters she wrote me, all the poems and songs and tender words that she put down on paper in her own hand for me to cherish. These are the books she used to read, the words of the authors she loved to quote, as if she understood what they meant. These are the socks she left behind that once covered the feet I would have dropped to my knees and kissed if she'd asked me to. These are the letters I wrote to her after she left, beseeching her to come back; begging to know why she did it; groveling and pleading and abandoning every scrap of dignity and self respect I ever had for myself because I couldn't stand to be without her. I never even sent them to her. I couldn't have if I wanted to. She's gone, and she took the man I used to be with her. I don't just have nothing left, I am nothing. I opened myself up to her in ways I didn't even know I was capable of, I laid myself naked and bare and exposed at her feet, and then she spit on me while I was down there. And now,” he drew himself up a little taller, his expression grew a little stonier, “I'm going to take all of these, everything that she has touched, every lovely lie she told me, and I'm going to let the sea take them, and me.”

“For a woman?”

His mouth dropped open, but he could only manage a few incoherent sputters. “I--you don't...” He trembled with barely suppressed emotion. “You don't understand! You don't know what it's like, to have everything taken away from you!”

“And this is her punishment, then?”

He didn't answer her.

“Would you rather she'd have stayed, even if it made her miserable? Even if it made you miserable? Would you have kept her forever, because she owed you, no matter what it cost you both?”

He only glared, but the woman wasn't looking at him any longer. The ocean below was gray and heaving, waves crashing with bone breaking force into the rocks that jutted out of the water like broken teeth.

“Why are you here?” he eventually asked her again.

“I told you,” she replied.

“No, I mean why are you going to kill yourself?”

“That is a sad story,” she said, the air wistfulness falling back over her. She fell quiet then, and he waited for her to continue.

A full minute passed, and then another. He gathered that she had no intention of elaborating, and with a huff of impotent frustration, he made to push past her for the edge of the cliff.

Then, quite abruptly, she began to tell him her story.

Our parents died when we were still quite young. My father was a fisherman, and one day the sea claimed him. My mother began to fade away after his death, as if she had lost her will to exist without him, until one day she was gone too and my brother and I were left alone in the world. As the eldest, it was my responsibility to look after my brother, but we struggled to feed ourselves from day to day. So my brother became a fisherman, like our father before him, and we were able to keep ourselves from starving. We were not prosperous. We were rarely even comfortable. But we got by. For years, we got by.

One day, my brother was fishing in his little boat on a part of the coast he had never been to before. He came by a small cove, hidden along the cliff side. It was difficult to get to, the waters were treacherous and full of crumbling rocks that threatened to dash his boat to pieces upon them. But what he found there was worth the danger, for though there were few fish, no other fishermen had discovered this hidden place, and the cove and tide pools on the shore were rich in the bounty of the sea. Almost every day he was able to bring back clams and mussels, eels, barnacles, sea cucumbers, crabs as big as your head, shrimp and scallops and star fish and once, even an octopus. It was thriving with life, and for the first time since our parents died, we did not go hungry, not even for one night.

Then, one day, he caught something different.

He was hauling up his net, and found it was heavier than it had ever been before. It was all he could do to keep the rope from being wrenched from his grasp and lost in the water. Inch by inch, he dragged it up, expecting to find the largest sea creature he had ever seen. But when he was finally able to haul it up over the side of the boat, all he saw was one solitary fish, no larger than a sea bass.

It was clear as soon as he laid eyes upon it that it was anything but ordinary, however. The fish glittered and gleamed in the sunlight, with scales of pure gold and eyes of silver. The weight of the thing threatened to capsize his boat as it flopped about, desperately caught up in the net. He stared at it in wonder, and realized he could sell a fish like that for enough money that he and I could live in comfort for the rest of our lives. But then, to his even greater surprise, it spoke to him.

“Please, dear fisherman,” it begged. “Please release me! I am an extraordinary fish, and if you do, I will grant you any wish you desire. The sun, the moon, the stars, they could all be yours, if you would but set me free.”

“Any wish?” my brother asked. “Wealth? Power? Happiness? You could grant me all that?”

“All that and more, good fisherman,” said the golden fish. “The only domain I have no power over is death, but the rest of the world is yours if you only give me back to the ocean. Take pity, I beg of you.”

My brother considered the fish's offer. He was never hasty. Neither of us ever acted in impulse. So measured, so careful. Look where it got us.

“I will release you,” he said finally, “but on one condition. I won't make my wish now. I have to consult my sister first, for she is all I have left in the world, and my fortune is her fortune as well. I will release you now and return home to ask her what we should wish for, if you swear that you will be waiting here for my return tomorrow.”

“I swear it,” said the fish, and my brother did as he promised and cut his net. It disappeared into the dark water, and my brother, hoping he had not made a mistake in trusting the golden fish, sailed back home.

As soon as he found me, he told me what had happened, about the fish and the wish it had promised him.

“Just one wish?” I asked.

“A wish for anything. The sun, the moon, the stars. Even happiness. Whatever we want, we can have--except for life. I know what you are thinking, I thought it too. But it cannot bring back the dead.”

“So we have a wish, but we cannot use it on the one thing we want? What else could we possibly wish for we would not come to regret? A wish is a dangerous thing to waste. Money can keep us fed and comfortable, but won't give us happiness. Happiness won't keep us fed. We could make ourselves a king and queen, and die in a bloody revolution when the land is stricken with famine. We could wish for a purse full of gold that never empties, but then be stricken by a disease for which there is no cure that money can buy. Just one wish, and a million ways to waste it.”

“Then what do you propose we do?” he asked me, and I thought long and hard about what the wisest course of action would be.

“I think,” I finally said to him, “that you should go back and catch the fish again. Bring it here, and we will put it in a bowl, and let people pay us to come and see a golden, talking fish. It sounds like a wondrous creature, I have no doubt that it will draw people from all over the world to see it. Right now our worst suffering is our impoverishment, but we need not use the wish to cure ourselves of that. We can keep the fish until we have become so rich that money is no longer any concern, and then we will decide what wish to make. When we have all the food and comfort that money can buy, when our minds are not clouded by constant hunger and the struggles of poverty, then we will make our wish. We can use for something wealth cannot give us, or better yet, save it for when we are in need of it most.”

My brother agreed with me that this was the wisest decision we could make. Having a wish a year ago could have saved our parents, and it seemed prudent to keep one on hand in case a similar need arose. So the next morning, before the sun had risen, he took to his sailing boat and made his way to the secluded little cove.

Waiting for him just as promised was the golden fish, the first rays of the morning sun glancing off its head that broke the surface of the water.

It swam up to my brother and asked, “What is your wish, good fisherman?”

And my brother threw his net over the animal. It fought, and was as heavy as it had been the first time my brother had struggled with it, but once again he managed to haul it up into the boat and dump it into a bucket of seawater.

“I apologize, my friend,” he said to it, “but we need the wealth and fame a creature like you can provide us with more than we need a wish right now.”

“I can give you wealth and fame if you wish for it!” the fish pleaded, but my brother only shook his head sadly and steered the boat for home.

“Your wish is too valuable to waste on instant pleasures or material wealth. We must save it for when we are in need of it most.”

The fish pleaded with him the entire way back, but my brother did not give in, though it pierced his heart to hear it beg so miserably.

It took the both of us to drag the bucket back to our house, and together we poured the fish and the seawater into a large glass bowl which we had placed in our back garden. We tried to make it comfortable, filling the bottom of the bowl with small pebbles and bits of seaweed. But even though it was the largest bowl we owned, the fish had barely enough room to swim in a circle. And it continued to entreat us to release it all the while, begging us to send it home to the ocean where it belonged, but we covered out ears and didn't listen.

Don't look at me like that. You don't know what it was like. We weren't heartless to the poor creature's plight, please understand. We weren't planning on keeping it like that forever, just long enough to make a comfortable living off its handsome scales and clever speech. And once we had decided the cleverest wish to ask of it. After that, we would have let it go again. We tried to explain that to the fish, but it only continued to plead and cry, big silver tears. Eventually we covered the bowl with a cloth, and we went back inside.

From then on, we spread the word to as many people that we could about our wondrous fish. First to come were our neighbors; then people from distant towns; then people from the other side of the country--people from miles and miles away who had heard about the golden, talking fish, and wanted to see it with their own eyes.

We weren't greedy and charged them only a small sum, but so many people came in those first few weeks that we had no doubt we would be able to live like kings in no time at all.

But the fish wouldn't cooperate.

We would lead people into our back garden and take the cloth off the bowl. The guests would gasp in delight, remarking how beautifully the fish's golden scales gleamed, how bright its silver eyes shone, and how it spoke just like a man. But when they fell quiet to listen to its speech, and they heard it pleading.

“Please please let me go, I beg of you! I am so unhappy in this little bowl, I long for the wide, open ocean. Staring out of the curved glass sides of this bowl is making me go blind. I can only swim in little circles, and my body is aching and twisted. And I'm so lonely. I miss the other fish, I miss the quiet of the deep water, I miss the darkness when I dive down deep. Here it is all too bright and loud, and the water in this little bowl grows so hot when the sun shines on it. I am going to die if you keep me like this, please have some kindness! What have I done to deserve this? Why are you doing this to me? Take some pity and let me go!”

On and on it went, and the people we brought to see it would grow uncomfortable and start muttering amongst themselves, casting us ugly looks as if we were torturing the creature預s if they hadn't paid good money to come and gawk at it themselves. You are looking at me the same way now, but you don't understand what it was like. We weren't trying to be cruel, we were just trying to secure our future. If the fish had only listened to us, if it had just cooperated, things might have been different. Like your lover, no? But people are so selfish. They only think about what they want.

Then, slowly at first, the crowds of people who came to see the creature began to dwindle. At the height of our fame we had a hundred visitors a day, and made money almost faster than we could spend it. We repaired the holes in the roof of our cottage, we mended the fences around our land, we patched holes and cracks in the wall and for the first time since our parents died the cold night air didn't seep into our home and make us shiver in our beds. We bought clothing that hadn't been frayed and darned a hundred times over. We ate until we thought our stomachs would burst every night, and were certain our troubles were over. But all those people who came, who helped make us rich, they never came again after they listened to the fish's words.

We went from bringing in a hundred people a day, to fifty, then twenty, ten. At the end, those few who did come only wanted to see if what they had heard about the fish's terrible condition was true, and they sneered and scolded us for how we were treating it. And then none at all would come. Word had spread about the unhappiness of the fish. Our neighbors turned their noses up at us. People in town wouldn't talk to us. We were shunned, even though we tried again and again to explain that we weren't going to keep the fish forever.

“Just let the poor thing go!” they would say to us in the streets.

“We will, we will,” we tried to assure them, “Once we've made a little more money, just a little more!”

“Greedy, greedy,” they said.

Sometimes one or two people would still show up, people who hadn't heard about the fish's sadness, or people who didn't care. We clung to the hope that we could convince the others to come again, and we kept trying, even as what money we had made in those first few weeks dwindled. We hadn't saved anything. We had spent everything we'd earned on making our lives more comfortable, always thinking that there would be more money later.

Two weeks after our last visitor, we spent our last penny. A week after that, we had eaten our last loaf of bread.

We were warm at night. Our clothes were clean and new. And yet again, we teetered on the brink of starvation.

We begged our neighbors for help, for a few spare coins, for a little meat or drink, like they had been kind enough to give us in the past when times were at their toughest.

“After the way you've exploited that poor creature?” they said. “You've only brought this upon yourselves.”

Intentions. Intentions don't matter to other people, do they? They only care about what they can see. Once you've jumped off this cliff, will your lover know what you meant by it? Or will she just see a silly, lovesick fool? How do you punish someone who doesn't understand what they've done wrong?

Where was I? Oh, yes. Selfishness. Of course.

My brother came to me once it was clear that our plans had gone irrevocably wrong.

“Perhaps we should make our wish now and set it free,” he tentatively suggested.

“No,” I disagreed. “We may need that wish yet. Let's not waste it until we have lost all hope.”

“All hope is lost,” he said. “Can't you see that? We're back where we started, only now we're miserable too. At least I'm miserable. We're hated and ostracized, and I don't even care about the wish any more. What we are doing to the fish hurts my soul. I never wanted to capture it in the first place. Can't we just make our wish and leave it in peace?

“We're not doing anything to the fish,” I replied angrily. “We're keeping it alive and fed, we're doing nothing to harm it.”

“We're making it miserable,” he said.

“We are miserable. We need to save our wish now more than ever. Do you remember what happened to our parents? We could have saved them if we'd had a wish then. You still have your boat. You can still fish, so we can still keep ourselves fed. All hope is not lost, not yet.”

So my brother returned to fishing to keep us fed. He refused to even go into the back garden any more, not wishing to see the golden fish in its bowl. I only went out there to feed it, running back into the house with my hands over my ears while it cried after me.

As the days stretched into weeks, my brother caught less and less in his nets when he went out fishing. The creatures of the ocean seemed to flee from him as he drew near, and even his secret cove where he had first discovered the golden fish grew barren. When he went out into deeper waters, storm clouds massed overhead and the waves roiled, threatening to drag his boat down. We had done something terrible by capturing the gift of the golden fish that had been given to us, and the ocean rejected us. Weeks passed. We became thin and stretched, and we laid awake at night while our stomachs twisted with hunger, driving the possibility sleep from our minds. We were driven to eating grass--we ate the leather off our own shoes just to make it feel like there was something in our stomachs. By then, even I realized we had no choice.

We went to the golden fish and drew back the cloth over the bowl.

“Have you finally come to set me free?” it asked us. It sounded so hopeful.

“We've come to make our wish,” we told it.

Have you ever been starving before? Have you ever spent so much of your life constantly, endlessly starving like we did? We were stupid with hunger, and we wished for an end to the one battle we were always fighting. We wished for enough food to keep us well fed for the rest of our lives, and thought that that was the wisest thing we could do.

And we got it. A mountain of good, rich food appeared right there in our back garden, filling every corner, crushing all the plants and almost our house under the weight of it all. The top of the teetering pile reached higher than the cottage's roof, it was the most incredible sight you've ever seen in your life. There were bundles of brightly colored carrots, in more colors than I even knew carrots came in. Did you know there are purple carrots? They're not as sweet as the orange kind, but they're so crisp when they're fresh. There were shiny tomatoes all on the vine, red and yellow and green. And apples, with rosy cheeks and sweet white flesh, and the juice dripped down your chin when you bit into them. Fat grapes were spilling over the other fruits like purple waterfalls; turnips and beets that could have been only just pulled up out of the earth; steaming piles of butchered meat so fresh it still bled; wicker baskets piled high with speckled brown and green eggs; huge metal milk cans at tall as my hip, full of warm, white milk with the cream still floating on top; and a thousand more things I didn't even know the names of. Overcome by wonder at the bounty, we quickly forgot about the little golden fish. We couldn't help but laugh, laugh and wonder why we hadn't done this right away.

As I said, we were stupid with hunger, and it didn't take us long to realize our mistake.

For one week, we ate as well as we ever had. The fish was somewhere out in the garden, surrounded by heaps of fruits and vegetables, and it was far from our minds. For by then, the rot had set in.

We brought as much as possible into the house, but there was just too much. We had nowhere to store it all, and before we knew it the meat was covered in flies and maggots, the vegetables dried out and withered in the summer sun, the eggs went rotten, the milk spoiled and congealed, and the fruit furred with mold and fungus. There was so much of the stuff, we couldn't even move it, we couldn't get rid of it all. The rot and mold in the air began to make us even sicker than before. It settled in our throats and lungs making our breath come in short gasps, making our heads spin, and we vomited up what few long lasting root vegetables we had managed to salvage. And once again--again, again, always again--we found ourselves starving. We were reduced to eating the rotting food in our garden, even though it only made us sicker. So please, try to understand why we did what we did. We never wanted to, we never planned to. We were wasting away to nothing, we had no other choice.

We found the fish again, eventually, once the mountain of food that had hidden it from view had rotted away to piles of sludge and slime that oozed into the earth. It too was thin and weak, but alive, just barely. It was floating on its side in the bowl, without even the energy to sink to the bottom. Its silver eyes rolled when it saw us, and somehow it managed to ask in a rasping voice, “have you come to set me free?”

And we were so very hungry.

It was barely enough to feed the two of us, and its beautiful scales broke nearly every knife I tried to use on it. We piled those scales up, hoping to use them as money since we had nothing else, but the next morning, we found their golden luster had dulled into flakes of lead. Even the little silver eyes crumbled away like so much dust.

My brother was forced to return to the sea yet again, but his luck was even worse than before. He didn't make a single catch, the sea was a desert for him. The ocean would grow dark and tumultuous when he set sail in his little boat, and he was afraid, afraid of what waited for him out there.

Even though all his attempts had been fruitless since we had betrayed the golden fish, he kept sailing out in his little boat, day after day, heading farther and farther out to sea, to deeper waters, in desperate attempts to catch anything at all. And then one day he didn't come back. His boat washed up on shore, shattered to broken bits of wood. I searched for him, walking up and down the shore, calling his name, hoping that I would find him half drowned but alive, hidden by a sand dune somewhere. But I never even got his body back. The ocean had claimed my brother, in payment for what we took. An eye for an eye, and I'm the only one left, blinded by what I thought was my own cleverness. We all think we're so clever, don't we? Now I have nothing left. I have nothing left to want. I have nothing left to wish for.

The woman fell silent, her thin, cracked lips pressed into a hard line. Her gray eyes were flat and dull, sunk deep into hollow sockets. Her golden hair, so thin and brittle, was being blown from her scalp by the wind.

The man watched her quietly for a long time, as she teetered there on the edge of nothingness. Then he glanced down at the things he held in his arms, the mementos and treasures of someone he had loved very much, the things he was prepared to die with. To die for.

“The fish wasn't yours to own,” he said, slowly. The woman's expression was blank, unfocused. She stared out at the sea without seeming to hear him speak. “It didn't owe you anything. You wasted a gift. And now you're here, because this is your punishment.” He paused, wrinkled his nose, and shook his head. “It wasn't even your wish. It was your brother's wish. It was his gift. You took it from him.”

He looked again at the love notes, the limp socks. They had a little lace cuff, whose stitching was just starting to come undone.

“I'm not like you,” he said.

Slowly, as if being drawn forward against his will, he began to edge toward the lip of the cliff, until the toes of his shoes hung barely an inch over the side. Beneath him, it was a hundred feet to the waves that crashed over the dark stones, the sea an angry, churning entity of white froth cresting on gray water. He opened his arms wide, releasing everything he held into the void. The books tumbled downwards, their covers spreading open, their pages fluttering like the wings of flailing baby birds tumbling from the nest. The unbound pages, the love letters and poems signed with kiss marks, were caught by the wind and whipped away, spiraling through the air on updrafts that could have carried them halfway around the world. A pair of white cotton socks spun, intertwined, in a spiraling descent into the sea foam below.

He watched the mementos of love lost disappear into the hungry waters, and took a deep breath of the chill, salty ocean air. Then he turned back to the woman. She was watching him, her eyes deep and uncertain.

“Are you really going to jump?” he asked her.

“You let it all go,” she replied so softly that the wind stole her words away as soon as they left her lips.

“It was never mine. Not really, I don't think.” He turned his face into the wind. It felt cool and good on his cheeks and brow. “I haven't forgiven her,” he said, as if he didn't want the woman to get the wrong idea. “I just... I'm not like you.” A beat of silence. “Do you think losing something can be a gift? Getting rid of something?”

“I've lost everything,” said the woman. “What do I do now? What else is there to do, except...” The waves thundered against the base of the cliff, churning and hungry. “I wish I knew what to do.”

He didn't answer her. He didn't have any answers for her. He just turned away from her, and started walking back down the hillside through the swaying purple heather, the cliff and the churning ocean and the woman with the golden hair behind him, teetering on the edge of possibilities.

#short story #writing #mywriting #writers on tumblr #fairy tales #my writing

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sandwichbully · 5 years

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Cajun Boiling, 24 November 2018

Let me tell you about white women from the Midwest. That got your attention, didn’t it? There are a few things you should know. Such as all white women born between the Appalachians and the Rockies in the years from nineteen seventy eight to nineteen eighty four know all the words to Sir Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back”. Don’t believe me? Do you have a white woman in your life? Go over to her right now and say, “Oh, my god, Becky, look at her butt,” and then stand back because shit’s about to pop off. Trust me. I know lots of white women born between the Appalachians and the Rockies in the years from nineteen seventy eight to nineteen eighty four and I have been trapped in the car with two sometimes three of them for hours at a time. Sometimes, they break into it totally unprovoked. The women I know born in, say, California? No idea what I’m talking about. Women born in London? No idea what I’m talking about. But you pull some forty year old HR senior coordinator aside, find out she was born in Chillicothe? And I’m talking Chillicothe, Illinois; Chillicothe, Iowa; Chillicothe, Missouri; Chillicothe, Ohio (represent); or even Chillicothe, Texas. You tell her you like big butts and you cannot lie and she’ll finish the fucking song for you. AAAnnnddd another thing about white women that is absolutely one hundred percent true and not at all a stereotype - As though I would ever dream about casting stereotypes! - is that they all, at some point, make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem New Orleans, Louisiana to visit the Wailing Wall French Quarter. And then all these white women come back home and something is different about them, something you can’t quite put your finger on, something that’s first exhibited when you ask said white woman, “How was New Orleans?” And she answers with, “Uh, no, it’s pronounced ‘Nawlins’.” And she’ll go on and on about the architecture there and how cool it was to drink in the streets and yeah yeah yeah, the whatever of the depth of humanity and warmness or whatever but (here it comes), oh, my god, the po’ boys. This is where life and conversation as you know it have each officially twisted into something altogether different from their original forms because now everything is tied to chiding you for having never had a po’ boy. “Oh, my gawd, how have you never had a po’ boy!?” exclaims the white woman who had one for only the first time last week. “I can’t believe you’ve never had a po’ boy!” “You have got to try a po’ boy!” “Oh, my god, I would literally kill for a shrimp po’ boy!” “The best shrimp po’ boy I ever had was in Nawlins!” “It’s not a real po’ boy unless you get it in Nawlins, you know. I mean, that’s just my opinion but still. Just saying.” A white woman goes to New Orleans one time and comes back changed forever. That forty year old from one of five possible Chillicothes? She went to New Orleans when she was nineteen and she will, to this day, insist that you are an amoral dilettante brute because you’ve not had a po’ boy specifically from a place pronounced Nawlins. And if you’re one of my white woman friends and you think I’m singling you out, I’m singling you out with at least five other white women. You are indeed not the only white woman I know who has this thing about po’ boys from Nawlins.* Well, today, I wasn’t in Nawli- shit, now they got me doing it. I wasn’t in New Orleans but I figured I would give Cajun Boiling a try because it’s almost forty degrees out, still warm enough to ride two blocks to grab - wait for it - a catfish po’ boy. Which isn’t a real po’ boy, keep in mind, because it’s not from Nawlins. Whatever, I just needed lunch. So with 60mL of CBD oil in me, I headed down to Cajun Boiling, in the space that used to be home to the Reverie and, before that, the Acadia.** I walked in and the place was dead. Two servers both on their phones, one kid working the counter, one guy in the kitchen, and I was literally the only customer. OK, I know it’s chilly out today but it’s Saturday. It’s going to get to almost forty (4.4°C), guaranteed over thirty five (1.7°C), this isn’t cold at all except you won’t find me biking recreationally in this.*** And I look over the joint and, yep, we got our misogyny out of the way, make wwwaaayyy for the racism: It’s staffed completely by... Asian... people. At a Cajun restaurant. Which, yeah, sounds racist but, no, no, it just, no, yeah, it, it just sounds racist. That’s my bad. Nothing says Asian folks can’t make Cajun food but... Well, if you were to walk into an Indian joint and you saw it was staffed by me and all my white women friends, wouldn’t you be like, “Huh.” Nothing says our little alabaster coalition can’t make tandoori chicken and palak paneer but aren’t you going to be a little more critical of it? I mean, face it, you’re racist, too. [I have just been informed that New Orleans has a large Vietnamese community, thus it proves I am ignorant.] The nice kid at the counter took my order - catfish† po’ boy to go - and I take a seat and blow through all my lives in Toon Blast and then I kind of wait and wonder what’s taking so long. I am, after all, the literal only customer.

Anyway, I get my sandwich after another couple minutes and bring it home. I am in the middle of doing laundry during this. Well, serving size? I guess it seemed a little skimpy for ten dollars but then not every po’ boy can be the Google Images Po’ Boy Model, which, now that I’m looking at it, I can see, no, this was the right size. Cajun Boiling’s po’ boy comes fixed with lettuce, mayo, mustard, pickle, and tomato. None of those things were particularly stand-out-ish save for that the pickle was sweet rather than dill but that was noticeable, not stand-out-ish. The catfish could have been cod for all I know. I liked the crispiness of the breading but the fish could have used some seasoning. This probably falls on me, though. See, I grew up on smoked catfish and that’s still what I have a taste for to this day. I like the taste of smoked catfish, that’s the draw for me and, unfortunately, my expectation. I can’t knock Cajun Boiling for their breaded and deep fried catfish not tasting like smoked catfish. However, some seasoning might have been nice.

Trust me, aside from the one time I used Dave and Laura’s Lemon Pepper Mrs. Dash, this is the only seasoning I used until I was like twenty nine. But the real... Wait, we might have used the best one yesterday when we thought that was the last one for the year. Hm... OK, let’s try... But the real time travelling member of the Hashtag Resistance attempting to go back in time to “woke” baby Hitler instead of murdering him because “when they go low, we go high” was the bread. I know I don’t often praise the bread which is funny because this is a sandwich blog. If it weren’t for bread, there would be no sandwich, I get that. But I think I take it for granted, even bitch about it sometimes, or I just give it fleeting praise. In this case, however, this was the component that gave me pause as I was eating the sandwich. It had a hint of fermented sour to it but not enough to be sourdough and had a similar gluten elasticity and a rich brown crust... I mean, this bread outshone all the other elements of this sandwich. On the whole, rating this sandwich fairly, I liked this sandwich but it wasn’t a $9.99 sandwich. Like $6.99. And you can’t argue to me that it’s because catfish comes at a premium because the sandwich costs the same whether you get it with catfish, chicken strips (chicken strips), crab, or shrimp. (It’s an extra dollar if you want oysters, though.) The veggies were unremarkable and the catfish could have used some seasoning but, yeah, I know, it’s not from Nawlins so it doesn’t count anyway. I’m looking at their takeout menu and I’m not seeing fish & chips, which I know is an entirely different animal that I shouldn’t expect to see on a Cajun menu but that’s my primary expectation for a seafood joint: To get some fish & chips. So that’s on me. This menu, however, does offer among its sides some of the fixings you’d find at a New England clambake.

Corn on the cob, potatoes (no word on how they’re prepared), hushpuppies... You can even bundle these together into a combo meal with crawdads and crab legs and such and I think that that would be the way to go: Get a one pound crab leg meal or something. The po’boy, however, I wouldn’t recommend but I wouldn’t advise you against it. It’s not bad but I’m sure there are better. Like in Nawlins.

* If you’re one of the two white women who gushed to me about the muffuletta from Nawlins, don’t worry, I have not camped you with the po’ boy crowd. You’re still a little weird but you’re my kind of weird. We’re cool. ** Went on a first date at their new location with a prison shrink once who showed me her dirty selfies and I was like, “Cool.” Only other time I was there was to use the ATM. *** Which pisses me off. Almost sixty yesterday but it rained all day. Now it’s dry and it won’t hardly hit forty. † Even as I’m trying to transition into my pescatarian / pollotarian phase (*snort* yeah, right, and give up pastrami), I’m really over the shrimp phase in my life. There’s nothing appealing about paying a premium for a dead animal whose carcass you get to labor over pulling its shit from.

#2018 #Stevens Square #Po' Boy #The Big Easy

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archivesofcreation · 4 years

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NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC WILLING TO LIE TO ADVANCE EVOLUTION

NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SCIENCE - IN A FIRST, FOSSIL DINOSAUR FEATHERS FOUND NEAR THE SOUTH POLE Separating fact from fiction in a farcical story! Were fossil dinosaur feathers really found near the South Pole?

Dino-bird evolution frequently causes excitement on social media platforms so my attention was grabbed by a picture of a fully feathered dinosaur with a sensationalist National Geographic headline that read, “In a first, fossil dinosaur feathers found near the South Pole”.1 However, what had actually been found differed so significantly from the headline that words such as overreaching speculation and grandiose story-telling immediately came to mind. In what follows, I have broken down the article’s salient points to highlight the highly misleading nature of National Geographic’s claims.

What was actually found?

Fact – The research team described ten exquisitely preserved 10–30 mm long fossil feathers, found from 1962 onwards over multiple digs in the Koonwarra Fossil Bed, south-eastern Australia.2 The feathers include downy feathers, contour body feathers, a complex juvenile flight feather “like those on the wings of modern birds”, and one that they refer to as a ‘protofeather’. Speculation – They allege that the feathers are 118 million years old, some of which belonged to ground-dwelling carnivorous dinosaurs. Conventionally, this ‘dates’ from the early Cretaceous period when they believe that the landmass of Australia was joined with Antarctica, before drifting north to its current location. This is why they have fossil feathers coming from near the ‘South Pole’ in their article title, rather than Australia, to make the story even more sensational. Although they think Antarctica would not have been as cold as it is today, they speculate that, “feathers may have been important for insulation, allowing small carnivorous dinosaurs to survive the difficult winter months.” “None of the feathers are currently associated with distinct dinosaur or bird bones”—National Geographic.With what type of dinosaur did they find the feathers? – “None of the feathers are currently associated with distinct dinosaur or bird bones. Instead, they were probably lost during molting or preening and drifted on the wind onto the surface of an ancient lake, where they sank to the bottom and were preserved in the fine mud.” What they would like to find in the future? – “To actually find the skeleton of a feathered dinosaur here in Australia would be amazing,” said Dr Stephen Poropat, a paleontologist at Swinburne University, Melbourne. It appears that we can agree on something: amazing it would be! Imposed Ideology – The National Geographic article tries to reinforce the current evolutionary idea that birds evolved from dinosaurs. This is done by use of a spurious picture of a fully-feathered dinosaur (which is simply made up) and the misleading headline. The details in the actual article do not begin to support the idea that dinosaurs evolved into birds, nor even that dinosaurs had feathers (although the creation model does not necessarily rule this out). This kind of blatant propaganda occurs on an all too regular basis; for another example, see: Sorry, how many feathers did you find? The reality is this is simply one more case of paying homage to the altar of naturalistic evolution. Geological context – The research team presented no direct evidence whatsoever that the feathers did not belong to birds. And they must have been rapidly covered in sediment to preserve them. They have been found in a sedimentary rock layer laid down by water in Australia. The fossil bed also contained numerous other animals: freshwater ray-finned fish, lungfish, various insects, arachnids and other terrestrial invertebrates, aquatic insect larvae, hydrophilid beetles, and horseshoe crabs. Plant fossils were found as well: mosses, liverworts, fern-like plants, Ginkgo, and conifers. A better explanation – The reality is that these fossil feathers and their geological context fit much better with biblical history. The fossilised feathers provide yet another example of swiftly-lithified fossils. These, along the range of other creatures and plants mentioned above would have been fossilised during the conditions provided by the Noahic Flood some 4,500 years ago, itself a successive burial of pre-Flood ecosystems. Finding feathers at an alleged 118 million years old adds nothing to the evolutionary story anyway; there are ‘older’ birds with feathers in the fossil record, such as Confuciusornis, an alleged 153 million years old. Genesis 1 clearly teaches that animals were created to reproduce within their own kinds. This is exactly what the fossil record shows, and we observe today. Gondwana Research, 2019.

The 10 feathers described by the research team.

Lessons to learn that should have been learnt

Social media is used to share news stories quickly and widely. In doing so, organisations often use unique punchy headlines to get people’s attention, hoping that they visit their websites, and read their material. Creation Ministries International also use social media (why not give us a like if you have not already?). However, we are very careful to ensure that our article headlines images and captionsare factually accurate and not misleading. Unfortunately, organisations that zealously promote big-picture evolution, such as National Geographic in this bold and fanciful instance, frequently do not take the same care when titling their articles or matching the content to real facts and verifiable history. This is not the first time that National Geographic has blatantly promoted the false idea of dinosaur to bird evolution.This is not the first time that National Geographic has blatantly promoted the false idea of dinosaur to bird evolution. After the notable Archaeoraptor hoax scandal, a phony dino-feathered fossil that they published and promoted, but then had to recant, one might hope they had learnt their lesson. Leading paleornithologist Alan Feduccia was scathing in denouncing the debacle over Archaeoraptor: In his open letter to Peter Raven, Storrs Olson asserted that National Geographic had “reached an all-time low for engaging in sensationalistic, unsubstantiated, tabloid journalism,” and “The idea of feathered dinosaurs . . . is being actively promulgated by a cadre of zealous scientists acting in concert with certain editors at Nature and National Geographic who themselves have become outspoken and highly biased proselytizers of the faith.” Although the scandal was resolved through the self-corrective process of science, it is worth noting that it would not have occurred had a more critical attitude toward dinosaurs and the origin of birds prevailed in the scientific and popular literature. In illustrating the degeneration of scientific discourse with respect to this issue, Olson’s letter clearly illustrated that the highly respected magazine National Geographic and a major scientific journal, Nature, were incapable or unwilling to consider critically the question of the origin of birds.3 Jonathan Chen, Wikipedia.org

The fraudulent archaeoraptor fossil Christians should always adhere to a higher standard of truth, being careful in the information they present to others. In the National Geographic article the intention of the headline is clear, as well as the implications: another ‘helpful’ example of evolution has now been discovered, which adds to the enormous body of evidence that evolution is a fact. Yet many readers likely never clicked on the story, and actually read the details, so this is the message that they would have taken away. However, had they read carefully, with an inquisitive mind, then they should have been left with a very different understanding altogether. In view of the unwarranted imagination promoted to an unsuspecting public as fact (compared to the factual data about these fossil feathers), the whole story is farcical. Our prayer at CMI is that people will come to embrace the alternative and true understanding of the world around them: Humanity was created in the image of God (the day after the birds, and on the same day as dinosaurs; Genesis 1:20–31), but we are separated from Him due to our fallen nature (Romans 3:23). This, we have inherited from Adam, and our own personal sin further condemns us (Romans 5:12; 1 John 1:8, 10). This is bad news: each of us is totally helpless because we cannot make up for our sin towards God (Romans 6:23; Hebrews 9:27). But God, being gracious, sent His son Jesus to live a perfect life, to shed his blood on the cross in payment for sin, and that all those who repent and believe on Him can be saved: This is good news to all people. Amen! ORIGINAL ARTICLE FROM CREATION.COM Read the full article

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girlwsoftsound · 7 years

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Mind Games || Matty Healy Oneshot

Word Count: 2,046 Summary: “Can you do an imagine where matty helps the reader face her fear?? she's scared of water (like lakes and oceans) and he tries to bring her in and shes crying the whole time but she eventually gets over it and isnt scared anymore?” “Could you please write a matty x reader one shot where the reader and the boys go to the beach and they get in to a water fight? Author’s Note: I LOVED writing this. I think it turned out really, really cute. I hope you feel the same! Be sure to throw in a like or comment if you liked it! I love seeing feedback from you all. Please feel free to read my other work here! Enjoy!

Fears are simply your mind playing tricks on you.

That is what you have always been told, be it from family or friends. It’s all in your head. Beat your mind, and you’ll be fine. Sure, it sounds easy when put like that, but life is not as easy as words claim it to be. One can say the words ‘I will own a billion dollars’, but a stack of cash is not exactly going to appear down in front of you at your wish. You have to work for it, and work does not come easy. You have learned this from a very early age, and still struggle with it, all thanks to the big wide space called the ocean.

It should be simple. Little children, babies even, swim in the ocean. Sure, they are usually accompanied by parents and floaties, but that was because they aren’t good swimmers yet. They still have a drive to be in the water and feel the sand beneath their toes. You do not. You get scared by the mere thought of stepping foot in the ocean.

For starters, it’s so big. Why will humans willingly go into a mass body of water that we know less about than space? It seems impractical. Not to mention, incredibly dangerous. Speaking of dangerous, there are thousands of ways the sea can kill you. Sharks, a stingray to the heart, riptide, bacteria, jellyfish - the list can go on and on, which is the point. The ocean is full of some fucked up things. Why on Earth would you want to put yourself at that risk? Willingly, so!

For these reasons, and countless others you could spend a year talking about, you avoid the ocean. Living in England helps you avoid the ocean in social encounters. Not many people want to go to a dreary beach without sun, and if they do, it’s usually to hang out on the sand, which you are fine with! Sand is soft and relaxing and nice to play beach volleyball on. It only has the occasional crab or ant on it, which you hardly have a bother with. Sand is fine. You thought you would be in the clear and restricted only to sand, until you met the group of four boys by the name The 1975, befriended them, and got involved with their lead singer, Matty Healy.

You did not see it coming! Cute boy and his equally cute friends wish to spend time with you. Fun! You like spending time with cute boys, and kissing the leader of them. His lips are soft and sweet and taste like mixtures of alcohol and fruit, and it’s always delicious fun. There should not be anything troubling about that! Except there is. These boys, with their cuteness and delicious kisses, love the beach. And not in a ‘oh I’ll take a dip and then stay on the sand for the rest of the day’ way. In a ‘we might as well exist as mermen given how much we love the water’ way.

The first time they went? You aced your excuse. Traveling along with them on tour, you faked not feeling too great because of fatigue and jetlag, which was understandable. The boys were used to the feeling, so they let it slide. All you had to do was look a little tired when they were around, which was not that hard of a task, and they bought it. The second time was even more clever. One claim of being on your period, and the boys all let you be.

Now, at your third time, you have no excuse. You have been well all week. Touring America has its perks, and you love going in and out of shops and seeing all of the interesting sights in the bigger touristy towns the boys play in. You have been excited all day and all night, proving you are healthy and happy. Also, your period came the week before, so that option was out. The boys are not that blind to how the female body works.

So here you sit, feet in the sand, nerves pooling in your stomach, as your favorite boys are setting up camp and preparing to enter the sea off the California coast. It’s beautiful, from afar. Up close, the waves seem almost too rough, too loud as they crash into the shore. Sure, kids are playing in it well and fine, but they aren’t you. They don’t know the mysterious and devilish beings that lurk inside. Arms wrapped around your bare stomach, you feel like screaming to release the fear. It’s too much. You are not excited to go through with it.

“{Y/N}?”

Matty’s voice scares you out of your thoughts, and immediately your eyes fly up to him. Positively glowing in the sunlight, with his eyes covered by dark shades and his blue swimming trunks standing stark compared to the paleness of his skin, he looks something like a dream. He sits down beside you, meeting your eyes, analyzing you in that way you know makes him a genius at conveying emotions in his songs.

“You alright?”

No, I’m fearing for my life and absolutely petrified of getting eaten by a shark, how are you? “I’m fine.”

He reads your bluff without struggle. His eyebrows furrow, almost chiding you for lying. “You can tell me anything, you know. Today’s about fun, and I want you to have fun.”

I can’t have fun when the ocean screams death to me. “Seriously Matty, it’s alright.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!” You say it a bit too quickly, a bit too cheerful, and Matty catches it instantly. He looks at you scolding, confused as to why you would lie to him so blatantly. Shame on you for thinking you could pull wool over your boyfriend’s eyes! You should know better. He knows you know better. By hiding, it has made it all the more obvious that you have something to hide. A frown crosses his face as he stands up. His hand offers itself to you, beckoning you to stand with him. You take it.

“C’mon, I think a dip will do you well.”

No it won’t!

The others are already in the water, splashing and playing like children in a pool. Pools are much safer though, and you would join them if you were in one. But you are not, and you are being brought closer and closer to essentially a pool on crack, and it feels like your heart can leap out of your stomach at any time. That, or the contents of your stomach. Or both. You wonder if your grip on Matty’s hand is uncomfortable. It’s growing quite tight. You can feel it, subconsciously at least. Your mind is a bit preoccupied at the moment. You bite your lip, your feet growing closer to the wet sand covered in sea foam. Closer, closer, closer. Feet nearly touching the foam now. Water approaching your toes…

“STOP!”

You are loud enough to startle not only Matty, but the boys at play as well. They turn back to their fun, thinking Matty is simply playing with you, but Matty knows better. He stops right in his tracks and looks to you, as if to wonder if you ready to finally explain what is bothering you. Though, now you suppose he has somewhat of a clue. Arms wrapping again around your waist, you let out a deep breath, embarrassment already tinging the color of your cheeks a bright red.

“I...I hate the ocean.”

Alright, not a complete confession.

“Like...really hate it. I’m afraid of it.”

Like a bandaid.

It looks like it takes Matty a second to process, which you fully understand with him being a lover of the ocean. It would be like you with strawberries. Why would someone hate strawberries? The thought baffles you, and you are sure it’s not unlike the way Matty feels about this revelation. However, you find his eyes to soften, his expression changing to a more understanding form. He takes your hand, and you can tell by the way he laces his fingers in yours that he’s not going to chastise you the way you think he is.

“It’s alright.” Did he really just say that? “It’s alright to be afraid. The ocean’s big, and who knows what on Earth is in it.” You really are not sure what you did to deserve someone like Matty. “I want to show you though that there is nothing to worry about.”

There it is.

“Matty, I don’t know-”

“Give me one chance,” he begs, those beautiful chocolate eyes staring back at you. “If in my one chance, you still think the ocean is fucking mental and scary as fuck, then alright. No ocean for you, no more questions asked. I want you to try, though. Please?”

He asked nicely, after all. Sighing, you throw caution to the wind and squeeze his hand. “Okay.”

You’ll probably end up regretting this, you tell yourself as Matty inches you closer to the water. Nothing quite like letting Matty see you panic, letting the entire band see you panic. Closer and closer you go. Your feet touch the water again, and that panic releases, a squeal leaving your lips. Matty’s grip on you only becomes tighter, his arm now moving to wrap around you to guide you in.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, soothing, assuring, too good for you. “You’re doing great. Baby steps.”

You felt like a baby alright. But, you are moving. Ever so slowly, water is rising, coming up first past your knees and now past your waist. He brings you out to where the boys are, the water just hitting at your chest, and then smiles a wickedly bright smile. You did it. You are in the water, successfully. His arm does not leave you after this, to your delight. His lips meet your cheek, congratulatory. He’s proud.

“Look at you! You made it,” he whispers, that grin on his face. You cannot help but grin back.

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

“I knew you would be alright.”

“Hey, {Y/N}!”

Turning at the sound of George’s voice, you are met with a giant splash of water in your face. The salt stings a bit, and you scream, but Matty overreacts. He shouts at George, protective and cursing, believing the action probably just sent you off course with your fears. However, you do not find yourself all that bothered with the action. Now out here, water surrounding you, it feels a bit like a pool again, a wavy but safe pool. The water stings, but it’s still water. It’s still your boys. Hearing Matty still droning on about watching out for you, you move to splash him. It immediately lights George’s face back up, and Matty looks back at you incredulous, unbelieving the sight and the water now dripping down his body. You giggle.

“Shut up, you wanker.”

Revenge comes fast. Before long, the entire group is splashing about in the water. Ross and George tag team Matty, and you quickly get into your own little fight with Adam, who is more gentle in his attacks to keep you at ease but still is much fun to play with. You feel like a child, splashing around and laughing. Not a care in the world crosses your mind, not even the fact that animals of the ocean probably are watching this commotion curiously, wondering if it’s a signal to come up and get a snack. You are simply playing with your friends. Happy. Confident. Fears conquered.

Finding Matty as the fight starts to wind down, you give him a big, thankful kiss in the water. It’s not because he’s cute, though that has something to do with it. It’s for how he pushed you to face your fears and enjoy life more, to live and let go. No one your entire life got you to do that. They let you sit in fear. He brought you out of it. Kissing him deep, you thank him for being him. You thank him for letting you be you.

You thank him for no longer allowing yourself to play into the trick your mind had been playing on you.

#matty healy #matty healy imagine #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy preference #the 1975 fanfiction #The 1975 fic #The 1975 imagine #matthew healy imagine #matthew healy fanfic #matty x reader #matty healy x reader #The 1975 Oneshot #matty healy oneshot #matty healy writing #The 1975 writing #oneshot #Mind Games

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sweetlifetownsville · 5 years

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Doing A Little With A Lot: Move Over Jesus, Your Loaves And Fishes Stunt Ain't In It Against The Townsville Bulletin.

The good old Astonisher showed its going to be more of the same in 2019, sleight of hand, selective reporting and all manner of insulting idiocy same old, same including a spectacular miss this weekend not a word about one of Townsville most long standing favourite eateries bites the dust Michels On Palmer Street is no more. Bancroft boo-boo Channel 7 embraces fake news: so lacking in a sense of the ridiculous, theyre about to disappear up their own ummm kazoo. And the President turns on the pester-power: Trump throws the biggest and longest tanty in living memory ruining the holiday season for thousands of his own people. But first For those many people who have been inquiring about Mark Donnellys funeral in Cairns, it will be at 2pm Wednesday Jan 9th, at St Francis Church, Mayer Street, Cairns. Vale, mate Moving On Its climate change on Bentleys mind. Our toonist is originally a Croweater from Adelaide, and he was amazed to see the jam packed crowds on Adelaide beaches in a TV report about the ghastly weather theyre having over there. The Pie also recalls that during his time in the City of Churches, beach-going was an occasional thing and attracted only sparse crowds to the sandy shores. But Bentley believes climate change is rapidly altering time honoured Aussie pastimes, and soon, getting an all-over tan will be a thing of the past.

Speaking of Things Of The Past

This now sadly includes the much loved Michels restaurant in Palmer Street, which served its last mean on December 22nd. This is how the unexpected news was broken on FB.

It will be sorely missed by many, including The Pie, who just hung out for the lunch-time beef and burgundy pie. Ironic that the one time our local paper had the opportunity to use the word iconic almost correctly, it has completely missed this information which would be of far more interest than the iconic Sizzlers leaving town. (More on that shortly). Well That Didnt Take Long Did It? The Townsville Bulletin set the tone for the year on the very first day of 2019, Tuesday January 1, with a rib-tickling own goal with this front page.

Wow, all those people turning up for a pic, where did they all come from? Well, at least half of them from nowhere. Heres how this little piece of patronizing chicanery went down. First, a couple of weeks ago, this appeared on the Astonishers FB page.

Boy, be on the front page! And didnt that get them flocking in for their 15 minutes of fame not. Just 41 people made themselves available, including the Cowboys mascot and as many of the Bulletins staff who could be spared to avoid the embarrassment of attracting almost bugger interest.

Then the front page appeared, a cheesy tedious old trope of people spelling out the year. Many people more than 41, it would seem. But hang on, lets have a closer look.

Whats all this? This is what all this is.

fair to say that all those excited people were beside themselves behind themselves, and then in front of themselves. Now a while back, the flagship of News Corpse tabloids, Sydneys Daily Telegraph got a clip arround its corporate ears for photo-shopping pics of politicians in unflattering historical situations. As if we needed to be told that Kevin Rudd was a nazi! Pretending to be chastised, management decreed that in future, just so no one was misled, all photoshopped images in all News publications would carry the legend digitally altered.Someone at the Astonisher overlooked this, clearly wishing the few readers it has left would believe it was so widely popular that it had attracted a throng of NY well-wishers. but it seems someone suddenly realised that some arsesole like The Magpie maybe would tumble to the lie, so thinking they could squirm out of it, they really blew their foot off by belatedly posting this on their FB page. The Pie has asked before, and now asks again are they all bloody drunk down there? BTW, the relevant FB page is said to have attracted 4500 views which at a guess that would be comprised of 4458 editorial and advertising staff and their family and friends frantically revisiting the FB as often as they could. At least that was the drill when The Pie was taking Ruperts shilling. But Wait, Theres More The firsts for the year kept coming thick and fast. This story had people wondering if the paper had a cut-price Tardis operating

and that resulted in the first correction of the year.

Although it is quite possible that Messagebank Walker, send out last years media release, and true to form, the reporter just wrote it up with a thought of what it was actually saying. f they would know the difference. Another media release that went into the paper untouched and of course unquestioned could have been headlined Mission Impossible.

Hahahahaah gasp snurffle dont you just love the combination of casual impertinence and immeasurable benchmark of making Townsville Australias first mentally healthy city. This is pure Labor crackpottery at its best, and a great excuse to wring out a few more public dollars for pointless jobs for the boys and girls. Mentally healthy City steering committee? National leader in this field? Pray tell, just how is this going to be measured oh, wait, I know soon it will be announced that we have achieved the title of Australias mentally healthiest city, but we cant be told why or any details because of both privacy and Commercial in Confidence reasons. What an out and out rort. The Townsville City Council has no business stumping up a single cent for this totally obscure nonsense. And youve just gotta love that this call for a mentally healthy city is coming from one of the greatest rates-gouging, anxiety-creating, booze-binge inducing ineptocracies of posturing inadequates one couldnt create as fiction.

And all publicised in a paper that has long abrogated its traditional responsibilities in the interests bargain-basement kiddy journalism and a quick advertising quid (and hows that working for you, eh?) Yet Another Jarring Juxtaposition And it would appear that either no one checks advertising content against news content to avoid this sort of blundering idiocy.

But never mind, iditor Jenna Cairney knows how to thunder away about the really important issues affecting us during the week, it was oh, dear it was people who oh, The Pie cannot bear to utter the words, read it for yourself.

Now normally, itd be kind to let this slide, but its hard to ignore when the iditorial completely contradicts its own ramblings by actually quoting one of the few believable people who work for the paper, fisherman Eddie Riddle, who said sometimes, believe it nor not, people just catch no crabs. Crab pot theft happens less than people would have you believe.Clearly those people who would have you believe that it is rife include the iditor and the beat-up reporter of the original story. Then There Is This From comments during the week. The Magpie From the alleged files: THE TOWNSVILLE BULLETIN ALLEGEDLY ACCUSES THE POLICE OF PLANTING EVIDENCE.

So they allegedly found a shotgun, unequivocally meaning there is some doubt in terms of English, the paper means the cops could be lying and they didnt find a shotgun or else, leaving open the possibility that they planted it there and didnt find it. FFS they either did or did not find a shotgun, and if it comes down to who to believe the Bulletin or the police its no contest. The coppers should complain. And anyway, saying they found the weapon is not legally dangerous and so attract an allegedly , since no names or details of the arrested man are published. During the coming year, The Pie will be running an alleged file from the Astonisher, along with an iconic file the paper has already made a sterling start on that one. This from comments on Friday. The Magpie January 4, 2019 at 11:24 am(Edit) Had a bit of an amused warble and added this to The Pies iconic list.

Iconic is something that is immediately recognisable, usually unique, and with which one readily associates with a name, place or occupation. The Eiffel Tower is iconic, as is the Statue of Liberty, Big Ben, the Kabba in Mecca, the Golden gate Bridge, and closer to home, the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Now alas with this local departure, down south, all the front bar chat and dinner party braying will be along the lines of Townsville? Wasnt that the Sizzler place until a while back? Oh, the shame. Keeping an eye on legendary, too. A Bigger Laugh From The Big Bash Crickets bumbling sandpaper cheat Cameron Bancroft returned to the crease this week in the Big Bash league, and the commentators were so busy tip-toeing around that elephant in the room, they managed to miss a wonderful howler made by their producer.

The commentators, all ex-sporting boofs, so not much could be expected of them, unquestioningly rabbited on about Bancrofts personal attainments, especially that last one. Returned to Tame Impala as their kazoo player? They didn;t dare question the truth of the matter, but they did have a rare old yukity-yuk about it. The producer had unwittingly copied and pasted this bit of nonsense lifted from a story that was doing the rounds, and had originated guess where? The Betoota Advocate, Australias funniest satirical paper. And for the record, Bancroft has never been in the band Tame Impaler, which has never featured a kazoo player anyway. The Pie is wondering, given Bancrofts infamous South African venture, if Bunnings might not offer sponsorship. And Now Off To The Week In Trumpistan and its wall-eyed child President.

. Thats it forn this week, and the silly season is coming to a close (not that you could tell at any time from our august organ of Flinders Street West), and some very interesting snippets have been dropping into the Nest for future examination. Wer will start on them next wee, but comments are running around the clock, so have your say. And any support by way of donation for the efforts over the coming year will as always be greatly appreciated. He how to donate button is below. http://www.townsvillemagpie.com.au/doing-a-little-with-a-lot-move-over-jesus-your-loaves-and-fishes-stunt-aint-in-it-against-the-townsville-bulletin/

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