#I am growing sleepless. (Memes) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

widowshill · 1 year

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navigation.

MUSES.

THE MATRIARCH. elizabeth collins stoddard. dark shadows. dossier. ic. THE PRODIGAL. roger collins. dark shadows. dossier. ic. THE GOVERNESS. victoria winters. dark shadows. dossier. ic. verses. THE LOVER. josette dupres. dark shadows. dossier. ic. THE SAILOR. lt. nathan forbes. dark shadows. dossier. ic. request: THE BYRONIC. captain bartholomew gore. the haunted mansion. dossier. ic. THE PROPRIETRESS. eleanor guthrie. black sails. dossier. ic. THE STARLET. magdalena temor. tower of terror. oc. dossier. ic.

BLOG NAV.

➤ meme. ┊ have your ghosts been talking to you? ➤ meme responses. ┊ boo ! ➤ answered. ┊ Collinsport 4099. ➤ edits & art. ┊ the evans cottage art gallery. ➤ atmosphere. ┊ welcome to the beginning and the end of the world. ➤ queue. ┊ the devils of a forgotten time have found their home. ➤ ooc. ┊ she’s nauseous，she’s hysterical，and she’s exhausted. ➤ music. ┊ the blue whale jukebox.

CHARACTER TAGS.

➤ roger collins. ┊ I and my ghosts want a drink. ➤ elizabeth collins stoddard. ┊ I belong to the house. the house belongs to me. ➤ victoria winters. ┊ because she’s lost and lonely. because she looks in shadows. ➤ josette dupres. ┊ it was a scent，not just any，it was hers: jasmine，seabreeze mixed. ➤ lieutenant nathan forbes. ┊ to death，the best of all possible worlds. ➤ captain bartholomew gore. ┊ there is no world beyond，it seems，only the waves and the wind. ➤ magdalena temor. ┊ I am queen of all my sins forgotten. am I still lost? once I was beautiful. now I am myself. ➤ eleanor guthrie. ┊ and it does not prosper，that sort of love. the love that a man can bear for his soil，his little kingdom.

RELATIONSHIPS: ROGER.

➤ roger collins & victoria winters. ┊ pain sometimes precedes pleasure，miss winters. ➤ roger collins & burke devlin. ┊ call me a sinner，mock me maliciously; I was your sleeplessness，I was your grief. ➤ roger collins & david collins. ┊ when the foundation’s laid so badly the whole house tilts，the sons inherit … grief. ➤ roger collins & elizabeth collins stoddard. ┊ how can I? these walls are my skin. this room is my heart. besides，I have a sister. ➤ roger collins & laura murdoch collins. ┊ to tell me that I had already a wife is empty mockery. ➤ roger collins & cassandra blair collins. ┊ incapable of love，of tenderness，of decency. she was not even normal. ➤ roger collins & carolyn stoddard. ┊ I didn’t know you had the choice.

RELATIONSHIPS: VICTORIA.

➤ burke devlin & victoria winters. ┊ look at me，what a soft thing i have become. so much of me is about you now. ➤ barnabas collins & victoria winters. ┊ I live in your warm life，and you shall die––die，sweetly die––into mine. ➤ maximilian de winter & victoria winters. ┊ I do love him so … his dreadful energy，and his blind，frustrated rages. ➤ anthony j. crowley & victoria winters. ┊ because I prayed this word: I want. ➤ victoria winters & carolyn stoddard. ┊ here，alone with you，I can’t pretend. ➤ victoria winters & david collins. ┊ the important thing is you and me. ➤ victoria winters & maggie evans. ┊ we rise graceful and resilient as flowers growing through the stone. ➤ arc: mrs. collins. ┊ collinwood will always mean home to me.

RELATIONSHIPS: ELIZABETH.

➤ elizabeth collins stoddard & annette ‘ned’ calder. ┊ only in that one way. ➤ elizabeth collins stoddard & betty hanscombe. ┊ death always comes more than once. every wound is both itself and its reflection. ➤ elizabeth collins stoddard & carolyn stoddard. ┊ persephone belonged to her mother. that was demeter’s gift to herself.

RELATIONSHIPS: JOSETTE

➤ josette dupres & jeremiah collins. ┊ learn the rapture of that cruelty，which yet is love. ➤ josette dupres & barnabas collins. ┊ but to die as lovers may –– to die together，so that they may live together. ➤ victoria winters & josette dupres. ┊ the dead after all，do not walk backwards but they do walk behind us.

AFFILIATIONS.

➤ collinwood. ┊ then who shall tear the curse from their blood? the house is glued to ruin. ➤ re: barnabas collins. ┊ luring me to a past that never was. this is the treachery. ➤ re: dr. julia hoffman. ┊ you're not blessed，or divine，or burdened. you're a science experiment. ➤ re: maggie evans. ┊ a peach tree growing in a coffee can. ➤ re: angélique bouchard collins. ┊ lovely-eyed. death-touched. witch. ➤ re: nicholas blair. ┊ I hate to bother you，but I am talking about evil. it blooms. it eats. it grins. ➤ re: burke devlin. ┊ I am stranded in a hungerland of great prosperity. ➤ re: carolyn stoddard. ┊ never the same girl twice. ➤ re: david collins. ┊ he's just been afflicted with the family disease. he's been seeing ghosts. ➤ re: laura murdoch collins. ┊ I want to watch a girl on fire with ruin on her lips. I want to see everything burn. ➤ re: joe haskell. ┊ on two wheels in the land of vampires. ➤ re: chris jennings. ┊ the wolfsong is the sound of the rending you will suffer，in itself a murdering. ➤ re: bill malloy. ┊ just the water. it pays us，and then it claims us，swallows us whole. ➤ re: quentin collins. ┊ merely a man of larger expectations than life has hitherto offered me. ➤ re: paul stoddard. ┊ then mourn not for thy husband's loss too much，nor waste thyself away.

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Sleepless Nights

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: During an unusually windy night, Y/N finds herself unable to sleep while her boyfriend is streaming in the other room, unaware of the terror revving outside thanks to his headphones. So, Y/N does the only thing she can in order to finally get some shuteye.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, I had such a blast writing it! I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to complete and post it but here it finally is and I hope you’ve stuck around long enough to read it! If you have, please enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

It’s that time of year again - the city is terrorized by the loudest, most intense winds that wield the strength of a mythological creature and sound like the wails of hell’s sufferers. You may find my description of this natural occurrence rather dramatic and over the top but that’s because you aren’t here to hear and see this horror show going on. Trees have been uprooted from the ground and have fallen on top of cars, damaging them expensively. Chimneys all around are whistling hauntingly as the gusts of wind pass through them, the sound sending shivers down my spine.

Winds have never sat right with me and I often found myself lacking shuteye during the night if they were wilding outside while I tried to sleep even as a kid. My parents thought I’d grow out of it as the years went by but I never did apparently, seeing as how I’m wide awake at close to 2AM on a workday. I have to be at work by eight in the morning and if I don’t catch some z’s soon I might just show up looking like a zombie.

This is not the first time such an occurrence has happened. However, on those past occurrences, I wasn’t alone in bed, twisting and turning under the covers so I could extinguish the sound that’s violating my head. On those occasions, I had someone lying in bed next to me with his arms wrapped around me tightly or with his hands covering my ears. That person isn’t with me right now though. He’s in a room two doors away, streaming Among Us with his friends.

I’ve had Corpse ditch streams to comforting me during anxiety-inducing windstorms like this one but I can only assume he cannot hear what is going on outside since I haven’t heard a single word from him. Of course, comforting me isn’t his job and I’m not the type of girlfriend to be clingy and in need of her boyfriend to be there for her 24/7. Quite the contrary actually - I’m independent and rarely ask for people’s help, Corpse’s included. However, there’s one thing I need help with and this is it - falling asleep at a time like this. That’s a task I cannot manage on my own.

And so, against my better judgement and putting aside my embarrassment surrounding my fear, I kick the covers off me and get up, stretching my arms above my head as I walk out of the bedroom Corpse and I share and into the hallway which is pitch black as the rest of the apartment. The only light is coming from underneath the door to Corpse’s recording room but even that is so faint I can only guess it’s coming from his computer screen.

With an uneasy sigh, I make my way down the hall, flinching when a particularly strong gust of wind rattles the windows. This apartment building is old makes noises of its own on the regular, the last thing it needs is these attacks it’s now forced to endure because the weather outside is crappy as all hell. Take an already noisy building and pelt it with gusts of wind, yeah that equals a sleepless night for me.

The recording room door isn’t shut all the way as usual. Corpse prefers keeping it open a crack so he can enter and exit it without making noise in the middle of the night as to not wake me up, seeing as how I’m quite a light sleeper. It also allows me to enter and exit it soundlessly whenever I want to either bring him a snack or spook him. There’s no in-between: I either bring him something to eat/drink, or I scare the daylight out of him. The latter usually happens when he’s playing a horror game though so it’s rare which is why he hasn’t started shutting the door as to be alerted of my schemes before I give him a mini heart attack.

And so, I tip-toe my way in his recording room, squinting my eyes when I’m faced with the beaming computer screen opposite the door though it’s partially blocked by the hunched over Corpse who is still unaware of my presence. So, in order to avoid freaking him out, I deliver a couple of soft but audible enough knocks to the door frame to grab his attention. My attempt proves successful as I see him yank off his headset and whirl around in his chair to face me.

“Am I being too loud?“ Even in the dark, I can make out the lines of his face contorting into an expression of guilt.

I give him a lopsided smile as I strut over to him with lazy steps. Just as I part my lips to speak, a strong gust of wind shakes the building, producing a wailing-like sound that immediately forces me to freeze up, the smile disappearing from my face.

Corpse’s face shifts expressions again, this time exhibiting a compassionate, comforting smile, “That’s what it is, isn’t it? You can’t sleep?” I shake my head, biting my lip as I feel my cheeks heat up. “Come here.” He mutters, opening his arms invitingly.

Without a single doubt, I come closer, not putting up a fight when he pulls me into his lap. I let my legs hang off either side of his hips, wrapping my arms around his neck as I hide my face in the crook of his neck breathing in his scent mixed with the cologne that has lingered on his hoodie and hair.

“Wait a sec...“ he mumbles, pulling away from me briefly. I’m confused for a second, but then I feel the pair of wireless headphones he covers my ears with and I give him a grateful smile, already feeling myself beginning to relax at the warmth of his body against mine and the soothing comfort of his touch. However, when the lo-fi music starts playing through my headphones - a playlist he’s complied for me whenever I have sleepless nights such as these for whatever reason - I’m a complete goner.

And so I find myself drifting off with the mixed sounds of lo-fi beats, Corpse’s whispers and his heartbeat and honestly, not to be cheesy or anything, but I’ve never heard a sweeter lullaby in all my life.

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

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Day 21: Prinxiety (pt 2)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 21: Combine two soulmate prompts. (This will make sense soon, I promise.)

It’s the sequel you’ve all been waiting for! This is the second part to day 16 (read that first!!!!!), and y’all finally get to see what happened to Virgil! Please heed the trigger warnings below.

TRIGGER/content WARNINGS!! Anxiety, food mention, crappy foster system/group homes, implied past abuse, religious guilt/negative view of religion, homophobia, conversion therapy/abuse, starvation, sneaking medication (antipsychotics/side effects), electrocution, seizure, ambulance. I’m sorry.

Word count: 3.8k

Unlike most kids in the foster system, Virgil didn’t know his birthday. He knew it was sometime in December, but that didn’t do much. Technically, birthdays weren’t really a huge thing anyways, not when the group home he rarely left was awfully underfunded, and a party came second to little things like working sinks and clothes without holes. Even still, all the other kids at least got a little cupcake and a half hearted birthday song on their special day, and his festivities were pushed onto Christmas. He didn’t get a weak excuse for a celebration, because the other kids ‘found it unfair’ that he got that and Christmas in the same month. To prevent an upheaval, the workers told him that he’d just have to be happy with what he got.

But it wasn’t fair, because some kids got Easter and a birthday, or Halloween and a birthday, or New Years and a birthday, and poor Virgil didn’t. The fact of the matter was, they plain didn’t like him. The other kids didn’t like that he got extra free time because of his anxiety, or was allowed to leave the table when they weren’t, and they especially didn’t like he was the youngest of the bunch. The youngest had the highest chance of getting adopted, it was just facts, so they had seemingly decided that if his stay here would be the shortest, it would be the most tortured.

It wasn’t the shortest stay, though. With his barrage of anxiety related issues and group-home-toughened demeanor, no foster home wanted to deal with him. He was snarky, ran away, regularly got in fights with the biological children of the parents, and was promptly labeled a problem child. Eventually, it was deemed easier for him to just stay in a group home until he outgrew the system, since he seemed set to escape every other place. Virgil tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did; it was his fault, after all. As he watched all his older tormentors grow out of a crooked system, he resigned himself to the same fate. After all, he was almost sixteen now, and he knew his chances were out. So he stayed stuck in his group home, lashing out at his caretakers and therapists, refusing to eat unless it was alone in his room (technically, three kids slept in there, but he so rarely left it, and they wanted to avoid him, it was unofficially deemed his room), and listening to music on his phone.

He’d been given the phone on his fifteenth birthday, a gift from one of his caretakers. It was the cheapest piece of crap he’d ever seen, glitched out every other minute and needed to be charged at least three times a day, but it was a phone nonetheless. Granted, he had no one to text. But he had access to a computer, a totally one hundred percent legal music downloading website, and a strong sense of determination, so he’d soon filled the phone’s entire measly storage with all the music he could cram on the thing.

That’s what he was doing on the night of December 18th, listening to his “Emo Playlist” on a pair of $4 Dollar Store earbuds, laying on his bed and finding shapes in his popcorn ceiling as the moon shone through the window. In the bunk beds across the room from him, his two other roommates were fast asleep, but he couldn’t follow suit. It was sadly normal for Virgil to have sleepless nights where no matter what, his anxious brain just wouldn’t shut off, and it just felt like one of those nights. His hands shook and his eyelids flinched every few seconds for no reason, so he turned the music just a little bit louder and tried to calm his breathing.

It was just past 1 am when his life changed forever.

He was on the fourth cycle of his playlist, eyes no more heavy than hours before and just as flinchy. It was just entering the “existential crisis” time of the night where he started questioning reality, and he was about to give in and start letting his mind drift to darker places, when a song distinctly not his began to play in the midst of a song switch.

How can you miss someone you’ve never met?

Because I need you now but I don’t know you yet,

But can you find me soon, because I’m in my head,

Yeah, I need you now but I don’t know you yet.

He froze, eyes suddenly wide open, and yanked the earbuds out of his ears. The song continued; not in his headphones, but in his head. It didn’t take an idiot to realize that it was his soulmate, responding, and as an afterthought, Virgil suddenly identified that today was probably his birthday. Both amazing revelations, but one was slightly more time sensitive.

Desperately scrolling through his playlists as the song stopped after the chorus, he tried to find a song that would be an adequate introduction to this new person. When his eyes landed on a song from his Adele phase (he didn’t talk about that time) that he hadn’t had the energy to delete yet, he simultaneously groaned and grinned. Subtly meme-y, heartfelt like the song his soulmate had played, a decent greeting. He tapped play.

Hello,

It’s me.

He hoped his soulmate had the same sense of humor of him and had actually given a laugh, since he was trying to stifle laughter behind his sleeve to avoid waking the sleeping kids. He paused after the first verse, since he didn’t really want to remember that phase of his life more than he had to, and waited for the other to play the next song. Hopefully they could work out some sort of rhythm, play songs back and forth. He for sure wouldn’t be able to sleep now.

(The next song his soulmate played was an almost atrocious obviously-musical-theatre song that almost made Virgil hit his head against the wall, so he retaliated with a favorite of his, the most ear assaulting screamo he could find on his playlist.)

The clock had just passed four in the morning when there was a small pause in the routine, before his soulmate played a children’s lullaby. It definitely wasn’t something you’d listen to in everyday life, so Virgil could only assume it was the other’s way of indicating that they had to sleep. As if I’m going to let you go that easily, Virgil smirked, opening YouTube and begging that the video he’d chosen would play without an ad.

It did, filling his crackling, cheap earbuds with the opening chorus of Baby Shark. Fight fire with fire, he decided, chuckling to himself as he turned off the song just before the ‘mommy shark’ verse. Silence filled his head and he mentally wished the other a good night, turning onto his stomach and screaming into his pillow, grinning madly.

Eight months later, their new way of life was deeply imbedded into him; getting woken up at asscrack o’clock in the morning by a worker who wanted to be there as much as he did, and either playing his morning playlist to get himself slightly more ready to face another monotonous day or waiting in silence until his soulmate woke up and played their own music. He’d begrudgingly started to even enjoy the showtunes. Everyone around the home had noticed his gradual shift in attitude, and he couldn’t help the natural smiles that pulled at his cheeks when a new song played out of nowhere. It got to the point where his therapist noticed his lifted mood, and the other kids stopped avoiding him and, unknown to Virgil, his social workers decided that he was ready to try another foster home.

That’s why, eight months later, there was a knock on his bedroom door and his main worker poked in her head, asking him to come downstairs. He’d been playing music for his soulmate, so he silently apologized and joined her at the dining room table, giving her a half hearted smile.

“Virgil, we’ve found a new home for you. A foster home that specializes in… harder to place cases. They’ve opened their doors to you, and we’re hoping to get you into a trial period there within the next week.”

At first, Virgil vehemently refused. No. He didn’t want to go back to foster homes, not after… everything he went to in the first few. The ones that hurt him, the ones that were more densely crowded than group homes, the ones that turned him into the angry shell he was before he had met a sign of a possibly happy future. He didn’t want to lose the progress he’d made.

But Bev looked so hopeful, so pleadingly at him, that he gave in after three days of denying. He said goodbye to the kids he’d unfortunately grown attached to, threw his few belongings into a black garbage bag, and got into his worker’s car for the first time in years. Just rebuckling that seatbelt caused a shudder to run up his spine.

------1 month later------

“Virgil, what are you doing? Do you have earbuds in? We’ve made it abundantly clear that you are not to have technology at the table.”

Virgil fought every urge in his body to roll his eyes, flicking his hair behind his ears to show they were empty. It had gotten long and shaggy, just reaching his jaw in the back. “No earbuds. My soulmate’s listening to music, and it’s catchy.” Frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t been caught bopping along to silence before by the stiflers.

They were nice enough, a woman and a man and their two biological children, but they were too religious for Virgil’s liking. He’d never had qualms with religion before, but he had grown tired of spending Saturdays and Sundays (his only days off from their homeschool regime) in a church, surrounded by older people singing repetitive songs and being yelled at by a guy on the pulpit. Faking being sick only worked so many times before they refused to listen to his excuses. They also insisted he go to a specialized youth group on Tuesdays, but that was easy enough to escape. He just waved by and booked it to the closest 7/11 when they left, making sure he was back at the church by the time it was over and made up some bullshit about the gathering. Jameson, the attendant at the gas station, was becoming the closest friend he’d ever had.

“Your soulmate?” One of the children asked around a bite of toast, spitting a decent amount onto Virgil’s sleeve.

“Like daddy and I, Mariam.” The woman explained briefly, not bothering to chastise her about speaking with her mouth full.

“Yeah.” Unlike most of the kids at his old group home, he wasn’t warming up to theirs. They were too spoiled, too bratty. One had even bit him in his first week here and he was still bitter about it.

“When did you connect with yours, Virgil?” The question wasn’t asked kindly, more for the sake of being polite, and he assumed if he didn’t answer in an equally polite tone, they’d probably make him paint a fence or something.

He knew they cared about his bond about as much as he did about theirs. Which was approximately none. The mom took her children’s empty plates and placed them in the sink, Virgil quickly following suit. No use losing more computer time because he didn’t clean his plate.

“Last December. I didn’t even know it was my birthday, and they started playing music out of nowhere. It was pretty cool.” He finished rinsing off his plate and was confused at the sudden stillness in the room.

“‘They’?” The mom asked, giving her husband what she must have believed to be a subtle glance.

“Uhm… yeah?” Virgil said slowly, “I’m bisexual. So I’m not sure if my partner’s a guy or a girl or… something in between. So… they?”

He stared with rising anxiety as the two parents had a silent interaction over the kitchen island, before the dad stood up. “Kids, plates in the sink and then go get ready for church. Virgil, you too.”

There was minimal whining as the younger ones did as they were asked, racing each other up the stairs. Virgil followed, slower, listening to hushed beginnings of a conversation, unable to fight the feeling that he’d just royally fucked up.

------------------------

“Virgil, may we speak with you for a moment?”

He froze, slowly turning from where he’d been half way up the stairs. They’d just wrapped up lessons for the day (Virgil never thought he’d miss an actual school building before, but alas) and the kids had been excused, leaving just him and the parents behind. It had been almost a week since the incident, and a part of him had been hoping they’d just drop it. There wasn’t much they could do, anyways; if their religion conflicted so badly with his sexuality, the worst they would do is send him back to the home anyways. In all honesty, he kind of hoped they would. He was sick of being here, and it was better for his record if he didn’t run.

Not that it mattered much anymore. He was almost aged out of the system anyways.

He took a cautious seat back at the dining room table, which they had just cleared from classes. The mom sat back in her chair, eyeing him carefully, as the dad began to speak.

“We spoke with our pastor the other day, and we think it would be best if we put you in therapy.”

“I don’t…” He’d stopped regular therapy at the group home almost a month before coming here, and he couldn’t imagine why he’d need to go back. He definitely wasn’t happy here, but he didn’t figure a grumpy mood was enough to warrant counseling. “I don’t understand.”

“After… what you told us? About your… urges-”

“Urges.” He couldn’t help his own disgusted tone. Of course they were homophobic.

“Yes. Our pastor suggested we try conversion therapy.”

Virgil scoffed, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart started pounding, “Right. As if you could ever get my social workers to approve that. Ward of the state, remember?” He tapped his chest a couple times.

“Fortunately, we already talked to your social worker, Virgil. We had it approved just this morning.” The man finally stopped, as if waiting for a response.

Virgil’s eyes grew wide as he looked frantically between the two of them, the woman quickly avoiding eye contact. That wasn’t normal.

“There’s no way in hell that you-”

“Profanity, Virgil!” The man barked and Virgil shrank back in his chair, impulsively ducking to avoid a fist that didn’t come. They hadn’t hit him so far, but old habits die hard. “We’ve already signed you up. Your first session is tomorrow. First thing’s first-” He stood up, reaching a hand out to a still-shaking Virgil, “Hand over your phone.”

-------------------------

His hair was short now. Shorter than he could ever remember it being. He missed his bangs, he missed the tiny boosts of confidence it gave him when the rest of his appearance disgusted him. Now there was nothing for his hands to run through. There was no style to it, just an electric razor in the hands of his silent foster mother. He should have fought it, he really should have, but he was shaking far too much to try to move.

He didn’t like hands so near his throat.

------------------------

Surely, his social worker didn’t approve of this. The only explanation Virgil could possibly rationalize was they’d lied about the purpose of the therapy, or the method, or something. But any type of change in a foster kid's life had to go through about a million different levels to get approved, so how the hell were they getting away with this?

It wasn’t too bad. A lot of it was using religious guilt, something Virgil did not have much of, saying he was immoral and inhumane. The rest of it was just his new therapist trying to dig into his supposed ‘trauma’ that made him ‘this way’, as if there was something that caused it. They talked a lot about his old foster homes, and his therapist seemed positive something there had to be the root to everything. It made his blood boil.

It didn’t help that they still hadn’t given his phone back, and they confined him to his room when he wasn’t doing school work at the kitchen table. He could hear the way his soulmate was losing morale, the longer he didn’t respond. The songs were darker, and were few and far between. They still refused to play songs on what he’d called ‘his days’.

--------------------

His ‘therapy’ had ended hours ago, and yet he couldn’t stop twitching. Every time he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to sleep, it was like the electrodes were attached to him again. The images they’d shown him flashed before his eyes, of men kissing, holding hands, and were quickly followed by the sharp sting of electric shocks. He couldn’t close his eyes without flinching violently, no music to calm his nerves.

Virgil didn’t sleep that night.

----------------------

He held to the music like an anchor, soaking in every rare song his soulmate played like a sponge. It was his only relief from the hunger pangs in his stomach, reminding him that he hadn’t been allowed to eat at all in the day leading up to another therapy session. Apparently they wanted to put him on some kind of medication, try to increase the intensity of his sessions. It was getting to the point where Virgil was tempted to pretend it was working just to make them stop.

He missed his soulmate.

----------------------

No. He’d said no to the drugs. They wanted to put him on anti-psychotics, claiming he was severely mentally ill, and he’d downright refused. There was no way in hell he was going on anti-psychotics. Finally, after days of their demanding being met with stubbornness, they’d given in.

That had been a month ago. Maybe. Time had gotten kind of funny, like in that limbo between Christmas and New Years, or in the depths of summer break. It had been a while, for sure. They still fed him so rarely a growling stomach was more common than a full one, claiming it was part of his new therapy. He couldn’t help wonder why he was gaining weight, though. He’d been underweight for a majority of his life, thanks to a constantly overworking metabolism and genetics, along with the nasty food they served at group homes that he gladly avoided, but he was starting to fill out slightly. His ribs were barely showing.

That would be a symptom of being on antipsychotics, he knew from previous research. But he wasn’t on them, so why…?

He took another sip of his apple juice his foster mom had brought him, trying to focus on his homework. Had apple juice always tasted that bitter?

-----------------------

They’d gone too far this time, Virgil knew that much. Curse his stubbornness, his inability to just lie and go along with it. He could have just claimed the conversion therapy was working, ‘oh golly, I’m healed!’, and go on with his life, finally talk to his fucking social worker, but no. He wasn’t capable of that.

They’d shown him more pictures, shocking him more frequently, refusing to stop the session even as tears streamed down his face. It just hurt so bad. Then he remembered a shout (maybe his own?), blinding pain, and the next thing he knew, he was in his foster dad’s car. He said he’d had a seizure, but he was okay now, so they were heading home. A cup of water was forced down his throat and he was laid down in bed, commanded to rest. He was so confused, but also so tired, so he let his eyes drift shut.

Just before he lost consciousness for the second time that day, he heard a soft melody drift through his mind as his soulmate played another song. It had been so long since the last time he’d heard them play music… despite his exhaustion, he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

--------------------

The days had been a bit of a blur since his seizure. It was probably because his brain had done the human equivalent to ‘Have you tried turning it off and back on again?’, but even that was hazy in his mind. All he wanted to do was sleep, to rest, to not have to do the school work that they were still shoving down his throat. From where he was laying motionless in his bed, he watched the slowly setting sun dip below the horizon.

There was a knock at the door downstairs. Virgil flinched from the noise, triggering a series of twitches down his spine and into his limbs. People were talking downstairs. He could distinctly hear the voice of his foster parents, but the others were unfamiliar. They were getting louder, near shouting, and there were pounding footsteps echoing up the stairs and down his hallway.

He couldn’t even find the energy to be scared as his door was thrown open and a man’s voice shouted, “He’s in here!”. A flurry of people stormed into the room, the ones in the lead dressed in blue.

Clambering, people shifting to make space, a woman holding his hand. She was asking him questions as they loaded him into a stretcher and he tried his best to answer, but he was just so tired. His name was said multiple times, as well as the names of his foster parents, but it was hazy, so hazy…

“We were just trying to help, I didn’t want this to happen, I don’t-”

“Quiet, woman!”

She raised her voice but it was growing farther away. Virgil realized with a start that he was looking at the sky, bumping along on the gravel path, the bright lights of an ambulance flashing across his vision.

The husband shouted again, trying to silence his wife. That was the last thing Virgil heard as the doors slammed shut, and he finally allowed his eyes to close.

Part 3 HERE

Taglist:

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@anxious-logic

@wigsnatchedhoteltrivago

@extraintrovertedalien

@punk-academian-witch

@ray-does-stuff

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#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #abuse tw #conversion therapy tw #ts soulmate au #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanderssidesau #sanders sides au #sanders sides

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kpopcotton · 4 years

Text

Warm ~ Yang Jeongin

a/n ~ another request !! thank you again, and i’m so so sorry for the wait !! • Prompt: cuddles with best boy jeongin • Genre: fluff, college student!au • Warning(s): none • Reader Gender: gender neutral • Word Count: 1.6k

it had been a rough week, to say the least, your courses deciding to lay the work on thick. you barely had any free time between your class schedule, your job, and your assignments. there was a collective six hours of sleep over the span of the seven days under your belt, and you were practically living off energy drinks and junk food at that point. sadly, your friends had a mostly free schedule, meaning they could hang out. jeongin, being the saint that he is, gladly provided you with updates on the adventures through texts and the occasional meme so you wouldn’t feel left out or out of the loop when the time came for you to rejoin them in their ventures.

luckily, you finally could, the last of your assignments completed and submitted, however, exploring the city at night with friends was the last thing on your mind. all you wanted to do was switch your laptop over to Netflix, find a boring show, cuddle up in bed, and pass out. it seemed like the most pleasurable thing in the world.

you texted jeongin your excitement and plans, him sharing the same sentiment which put a smile on your face. you texted him good night and he wished you “sweet dreams” before you stood up to get ready for bed. with your head full of comforting thoughts and the promise of a quiet night in, you decided to hop in the shower to wash away the stress that had come with your studies. you had started to rinse the conditioner out of your hair when you heard the front door open. three familiar and distinct voices filling your dorm room. your roommate, jisung, was home. with company.

a steady thrum of annoyance started to pump your heart instead of contentment. you have nothing against your roommate, being as he usually is so sweet and considerate, but dealing with his so-called group “3racha”, was not in your plans for the night. you do remember a rushed text that had quite a few misspellings from him saying he might be home late, yet he failed to mention bringing his friends, chan, and changbin with him.

you dried your hair as best you could, departing from the shower and glowering at yourself in the mirror when you heard their laughter, before you wrapped yourself in a towel and left the bathroom. you bumped right into chan upon stepping out, his ears turning red as he took in your appearance, he tried to stutter something about not knowing you were home. you didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed, more tired than anything, so you just muttered something to ease his nerves and continued to the living room where you knew the other two would be.

“han jisung,” you whine, causing said boy to look up from his phone on the couch with a confused expression, though even in your sleepy haze you noticed the fear in his eyes.

“you’re still up?” is his response. you roll your eyes and instantly tug at his ear. changbin’s laugh burst from him, watching jisung struggle.

“you didn’t tell me some friends were coming over,” you say with clenched teeth, a fake smile pulling at your lips. you aren’t sure if jisung heard you over his own whining, but you weren’t sure if you cared.

“‘m sorry, y/n! believe me! i meant to text you! i coulda swore i did! h-have mercy!” jisung manages to pry your hand off his ear and hold it in between his own as he looks up at you with pleading eyes. “they’ll only be over for a little bit! chan wants to go over a new idea of a song!”

“hey, don’t throw me under the bus!” chan suddenly speaks up from the hallway, his ears still red. “i swear han was the one to suggest his place! if i’d known you were home, i would have declined!”

you appreciate the honesty, but you notice jisung doesn’t. his eyes are wide and staring straight at chan, trying to tell him an earful without saying it out loud. you breathe out a chuckle, adjusting your towel with a sigh. “it’s okay, just -- just please keep it down, i really need sleep.”

“yeah, no worries!” chan says instantly, smiling shyly.

“you can count on us,” changbin smiles as well. “you won’t even notice we’re here!”

“i better not,” you laugh, though your tone is more directed at jisung as you look him in the eye. “and you owe me dinner, han jisung.”

==≎==

you realize you shouldn’t have trusted 3racha when they said they would be quiet. they’re three lively boys for goodness sake, they have enough energy to power a small town during a blackout. you had to give them credit, though, you could tell for the first hour they were trying to stay quiet for you. perhaps they thought you had fallen asleep, that maybe they could be louder as the night progressed because it seemed like they hadn’t calmed down for at least thirty minutes. you wished you had fallen asleep when they were quieter, but there was always something loud to wake you up just as you were on the cusp on falling into dreamland.

you had given up all hope of falling asleep in your dorm, the only thing your exhausted mind could think of was to call jeongin in hopes that he would save you. before you could process what you did, he was already picking up the call.

“y/n? shouldn’t you be sleeping? i thought you were done with your assignments?” he sounded worried, and there was something that told you he hadn’t gone to bed yet. you felt slightly thankful for that.

“i am. but -- but guess who’s staying at my apartment?” you cringe at the sound of your voice, but power through it when you hear your best friend’s faint laugh on the other end of the line. from somewhere in the house, you hear jisung yell something.

“3racha?”

“3racha.” you could feel a smile start to grow on your face, glad jeongin knew exactly what was going on.

“want to come over?”

“i thought you’d never ask.”

==≎==

you luckily lived in the same building as jeongin, him living on a higher floor than yours, which made the trip so much easier for someone as sleep-deprived as you. your eyes were barely open as you made your way to the elevator, pressing the button to his floor and then the one to close the doors faster. you decided to lean against the wall with your eyes closed for the duration of the ride upwards, it already being so much more soothing than your dorm with its soft music. the gentle ding notifying you that you had reached the floor almost didn’t wake you, however, the doors opening and a soft call of your name did.

your heart melts when you open your eyes to see jeongin waiting for you outside the elevator. he has a sweet smile as he holds out a hand for you, which you gladly take. you walk yourself into his embrace as a hello. he’s dressed in a big pink hoodie and grey joggers that engulf you in his scent and warmth.

“you were waiting for me?” you mumble into the fabric covering his shoulder.

“of course,” he laughs, the thought funny before he can even get it out. “who would wake you up if you fell asleep along the way?”

“good point,” you smile, your arms tightening around his waist.

“i mean -- uh -- hyunjin and his boyfriend are sleeping too, so i also didn’t want you to knock on the door and, you know, wake them up,” he adds sheepishly, you feel his arm reach up to rub at his neck. you simply nod against him. “let’s head inside, it’s cold out here.”

you’re barely there mentally when jeongin pulls away from you, you register his warmth leaving from against you and his hand slipping back into yours as he leads you to his door. he punches in his lock code and opens it for you, his hands occupied by both holding the door open and leading your worn frame inside. he lets you go for only a moment to do his best to silently close his door before he wraps you in a blanket he prepared and leads you to his room.

his laptop is open on his desk showing a history article and you take notice of the multiple tabs he has open. there are a few papers scattered on his desk as well. you feel a sinking pressure in your chest when you realize you probably won’t be getting the cuddles you were sleepily hoping for. jeongin sits you on his bed and notices a soft pout on your lips with a smile.

“don’t worry, that’s,” he gestures to his laptop. “not due for another week. i was getting a head start. let me save everything and we can cuddle, okay?”

you nod, your spirits instantly lifted, and lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and watching the shadows dance across the surface. soon, the room is bathed in darkness and jeongin’s warmth returns to you in his bed. he awkwardly slides into place next to you, moving his comforter to lay over the both of you.

once he stops moving, you know he’s waiting for you to cuddle up to him. you instantly leave the blanket he gave you behind for his arms and you can’t help the sigh of relief that leaves you when his arms wrap around you and pull you close. all you can feel is the softness of his clothes, his body heat, and the rise and fall of his chest and it is the most amazing thing you’ve felt all week.

“thank you,” you sigh dreamily, snuggling your face into his hoodie. you barely register his response, your sleepless nights catching up to you faster than a muscle car on a race track, and you let yourself sink into the peaceful sleep your best friend brings you.

#i'm actually proud of myself #i really enjoyed writing this #i hope you enjoy it :)))#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids x stay #stray kids x you #stray kids x male reader #yang jeongin x reader #i.n. stray kids #i.n scenarios #yang jeongin #bang chan #seo changbin #han jisung #hwang hyunjin

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thecipherlegacy · 4 years

Note

I'm really curious about Ari and the reunion with the young slave girl she knew. So any of those that fit the bill honestly, I just want to see that/know more about it 💕

OKAY SO THIS IS QUITE THE STORY and i'm very excited to infodump about it. (There's a little drabble for the prompt meme at the end don't worry)

So, Arianness was taken from her home and sold to a Hutt when she was just 6 years old. She was a cute kid people would fawn over, but she was mostly there for cleanup after parties until she got older.

Through her first year she proved to be very kind, responsible, and caring for her age. She would sometimes give her rations to the younger kids and if something went wrong she often took blame so no one but her got punished.

Because of her responsible nature she ended up being put in charge of the new addition to the Hutts collection. A little baby sith pureblood. A bounty hunter hadn't realized or cared about what she was and sold her off. The hutt was proud of owning a pureblood sith child, and like most aliens owned by Hutts, she was nothing more than a trophy.

Arianness ended up taking care of the pureblood as best she could for a 7 year old, and they ended up growing up together there until 10 years later. The little pureblood only trusted Arianness and was a loose Canon. She barely spoke and couldn't even say the Twi'leks name. She called her Ar-Ar instead, and since she didn't have a name, Arianness just called her Red.

At 17 and 10 the two were ripped apart as Arianness was then put with the adult slaves. When the pureblood put up a fight and continued to demand her back they told her the Twi'lek had died. (A lie, of course) and Arianness was given the same news about the little girl she had come to consider a sister.

Here is where paths cross. Mavasha, my torguta sith warrior, hears about this little pureblood slave causing some strife to a Hutt. The little girl is force sensitive so she was told to scout her out. With her husband, Malavai, she arrives and decides to adopt and train the little girl, naming her Cathilia and giving her a home and two sisters.

A few years later Arianness finally breaks her bonds and kills her Hutt master before her full escape in an imperial ship, where she ends up with Toovee, the Droid that looks after the ship, as her first crewmate.

Time skip to after Arianness gets her brothers back from the empire and has her full crew and her two kids. She ends up on Tattoine for a refuel and runs into a confused Sith in the spaceport. A little Chiss/Human girl, 15 years old and confused about her path in life. She didn't want to be a Sith lord like her parents and she didn't feel inspired by the Jedi code either. Kenaas, the grey Jedi in Arianness's crew, steps up and takes her as a Padawan to train her in both ways of the force, as he had been taught.

After a couple years of training she feels whole again, and even had fallen in love with Arianness's daughter. She begs them to take her home to see her parents again.

They happily oblige and arrive at Mavasha's home, where Cathilia, her chiss wife S'cathe and their husband Andronikos waited for their runaway daughter eagerly. They certainly weren't happy that their daughter decided to not be sith, but they were glad she was safe.

Now, at this point Cathilia and Arianness hadn't see each other in years. More than a decade. They assume the other is dead at this point, and from here I'll write a drabble for you of their reunion using #11 a kiss in joy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, my daughter took up with some famous smugglers? I'm not certain that I'm filled with confidence about how safe she's been." Cathilia scowled as she walked about the kitchen, making some fresh caf for the large group that had shown up. "And she's dating a republic soldier no less. Can't say I'm very excited about that either."

Arianness chuckled, letting any intended offense roll off her back. "To be fair, my daughter works specifically as a repair woman that happens to be under a military contract for now" she corrected. "Also, it wasn't just smugglers on my ship. She was also with two sith lords, an ex imperial agent, a bounty hunter and a turned Jedi. She was plenty safe." She peered out the doors of the kitchen as she listed them off to see Noshiir making jokes and palling around with Andronikos. "And at least our husband's hit it off right away."

The sith looked at the same scene, also observing the rest of the group. The two sith were talking with her own mother and the agent was having a polite conversation with Malavai. "At least no one is fighting. That would have been a mess." She sighed. "Look, I appreciate you lot taking care of my daughter, but you really should have just brought her home…"

The Twi'lek could tell the mother had been stressed, worried, restless. Even the Chiss was all over their daughter, looking her over for wounds or scars and hugging her tightly. "I get it… trust me I do. I don't know what I would have done If Sevara had run away like that…" she admitted. "But look at how comfortable she is in her own skin. I think that this trip she took was worth it. She may not be the black wearing dark lord your family expected, but she's happy. It took guts for her to take this road of self discovery. You should be proud of her"

The other woman glanced at her, then looked back out at her family, who was surprisingly having a good time with the odd crew. "I am." She finally said. "I can see she was with good people. But I refuse to ignore how I felt when she left home. Even her grandmother was rendered sleepless."

A gentle pat on the shoulder made her flinch, but she relaxed a bit once she realized it was meant to comfort her. "You're a good mom. Now, why not try to enjoy yourself? My crew may be strange, but we're the best group you can ever party with."

Cathilia gave a small smile and nodded to her. "Sure. Let me go wash some cups for the Caf" she said and went to the sink. Arianness leaned against the counter with a smile. She was glad they were able to chat civilly. For a sith family, they were very understanding and welcoming. "Hey, captain. Can you turn off the machine? It should be finished."

Arianness gave her finger guns and winked "I've got you, Red" she said surely. Cathilia dropped the cup she was holding in the sink. That simple gesture, the phrase, the nickname. All of it flooded memories back to her and her eyes instantly burned as she whipped around to look at the other woman.

"Ar-Ar?-" her voice came out as nearly a whisper. It couldn't be her, she had been told the woman was dead years ago.

The nickname stopped the Twi'lek dead in her tracks and her heart stopped. "That's a name I haven't heard in a long time…" she mumbled and directed her attention back to the pureblood. "I… thought you died"

Cathilias chest bubbled with joy and she felt like a child again "It is you!-" she choked on any other words she wanted to say, but found herself running and hugging Arianness close. The other woman hugged back just as tightly with tears in her eyes.

They parted briefly and the older girl gently held Cathilias face to look at her closely. "You grew up so beautiful too- and you're a mom! Aw Red! I never thought I'd see you again!" She sniffled with a bright smile before kissing her face all over. After covering the womans whole face in familial kisses she returned to the tight embrace.

"I thought you were dead too… I begged for you to come back for years." Cathilia whimpered. "I have never been more happy to be wrong than I am right now…"

Arianness buried her face in her shoulder. "I thought about you every day. Every slave we freed, every child we saved… I always did it in your memory. You have always been my little sister"

The pureblood smiled even more and wiped her eyes as the hug finally ended "I feel similarly, Ar-Ar" she chuckled in joy. "We have a lot of time to make up for. I guess you guys are staying for a while then"

"If your mother doesn't mind. I'd like to hear every detail of what I've missed, get to know your kids, your wife and husband, all of that. Get ready for long nights of talking, kid!"

Cathilia grinned and reached back to turn off the machine for the caf, then looped her arm around Arianness's to join her family in the next room "I look forward to it"

#mox's ocs #my ocs #mox writes #kiss writing prompt #oc: Arianness #oc: cathilia #my gfs oc #oc: mavasha #oc: S'cathe

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vonnyphant · 4 years

Text

To Blog or Not to Blog?

“You should start a diary and write about your experiences. It may help people going through the same thing.”

Honestly? If there’s one thing I discovered about this diagnosis, it’s that it makes me pretty damn selfish. I don’t want to help other people (not just yet, anyway). But putting some thoughts down about this time in my life may be of some sort of therapeutic value, and I do want to help myself.

(Maybe for once, saving the world can wait. Do you remember how, soon after the pandemic hit, people stopped avoiding plastic and single-use items? When your health is at risk, suddenly rainforests and polar bears and the planet are deprioritised- not that anyone will admit to this. But this is my diary and I can say what I want!* Writing for myself it is.)

Having established my less-than-Mother-Theresa-like reasons for this blog, my conscience cleared, it’s time to start. This is where the Lifetime movie shows me, in a half daze, mellowed out on drugs while they sew a mediport into my chest to start administering chemicals. A fast lane to my bloodstream. A docking station. The soundtrack? Hopefully ‘Across The Universe’ by the Beatles (possibly Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. If I get a say in it, I veto The Walrus) Time to pump this body full of drugs that’ll make my hair fall out.

Wait, what?

Voice Over: “Yep. That’s me. You’re probably wondering what I am doing here…” //record scratch - freeze frame - fast rewind to the psychedelic outtro of A Day In The Life//

Two months ago, during rub-a-dub-in-the-tub (less naughty than it sounds, was just washing myself), my mind inexplicably went to an episode of Beverly Hills 90210, s1 (aired in 1992- yes, I am that old), where Brenda Walsh has a breast cancer scare. I say inexplicably, because my usual shower fantasies do not include Ms Shannon Doherty - if I was going to pick a shower lady, I’d opt for Charlize Theron, Kiera Knightly or Winona Ryder in their short-hair phases, but that is neither here nor there.

Say what you want for 90s television- weird outfits and ponytails notwithstanding, in their AfterSchoolSpecial PSA way, they dedicated a whole scene to the girls giving themselves a breast exam, including how-to instructions**, and eventhough I was only 11 years old when I saw it, I remembered what to do, and for the last 30 years, every now and then I have randomly carried it out while wondering how I always preferred Brandon over Dylan and how my tastes have changed over time.

But this time - my hand actually found something.

I took a deep breath and calmed myself down the same way I did after finding spots on my skin, lumps on my head and every time I sneezed since covid-19; by telling myself to fucking snap out of my hypochondria tendencies. One cannot go to the doctor every damn day after all. Breast tissue is pretty lumpy and I assumed it was just imaginary. I made an appointment to see a therapist, and put it out of my mind until a few weeks later, when one of the kids came crashing down on me (literally) and faceplanted in my boob (as they do).

Now this always hurts af, but it just hurt that little more that day, so that I grabbed the appendage in question and went “WHAT THE--!” And I felt it again- the lump, more defined than a few weeks before.

Cue a lot more freaking out than the first time, and after a sleepless night, imagining what my funeral would look like (as one does), I decided to go to the gynocologist the same day or risk never to sleep again.

After a long wait and an ultrasound, my doctor assured me that while there really was a mass, it had every indication of being benign. We should keep an eye on it. If I was worried, I could schedule a second screening, but would not likely get an appointment before April. I scheduled one and tried to focus on preparing our first lockdown Christmas.

But over the holidays, the lump started hurting, even when I wasn’t poking it or having a kid catapult themselves into my chest. I’d be Netflix and Chilling, and suddenly - ZAP - like someone stuck a hot needle into it. Repeatedly. My nipple would go numb or start tingling like a bodypart that fell asleep. It freaked me out, and in the new year, I realised I couldn’t wait until April - I had to get it checked out again or I may worry myself to death.

My gynocologist did another ultrasound and again, told me not to worry. I told her it was way too late for that as I had been worried for weeks, and I wanted the thing biopsied (they gave Brenda Walsh one too, after all! It’s the only way to be 100% sure). She referred me to the hospital. At the description of my symptoms, I could come directly, and the radiologist told me in no unclear terms: “I will not let you leave this room until we draw blood and take several biopsies.” Okay- not exactly what one wants to hear at that point, but at the same time, I figured knowing would be better than guessing by the shape of it.

Test results took a week. I went in, being prepared to be told (like Brenda) it was a harmless clump of random cells or a cyst we could have removed like a wart. Only it wasn’t. It was breast cancer, an aggressive, fast-growing kind, and had I waited until April, that could have had disastrous consequences.

While the doctor explained we now needed to determine the scope of the spread and take more tissue to determine what kind of chemo (if any) could be applied, all my 2020-PTSD brain could think was:

“.............of course”.

Didn’t hear much of what she said afterwards.

Another harrowing 4 days went by, with a CT screening with contrast solutions that gave me an intense stomach ache as well as a migraine, and finally, a fully rounded diagnosis and treatment advice could be made.

Thankfully, all my organs as well as lymphnodes were clear, so it appears to be a localised tumor. And here we are - to fight this thing with chemicals and then cut out whatever is left. Genetics testing to see about the likelihood of a recurrency (and a possible double mastectomy if so - ‘pulling an Angelina Jolie’, ‘not saving the tatas’, insert ‘Think About It meme’...can’t have breast cancer if you don’t have breasts! THINK ABOUT IT***).

Chances are good. I need to cling to that while I wait for this port and treatment to start. I have accepted the inevitable hair loss, have scheduled a ritual ‘crazy hair cutting party’ with my kids for this weekend (as I would rather shave it off in one go than clean up clumps and strands over the course of weeks and look like Gollum), and I have sewn several funny little hats for inside wear and ‘going out’ (though where will I be going in pandemic, idk).

I was going to end this post on a light and happy note - but I must admit my confidence just took a really big hit in real time, as I googled how to spell Shannon’s last name for this blog entry and found out that she was treated for breast cancer in 2015, initially succesfully, but it reappeared metastasized in 2020 (again: ‘of course...when else’) and she is now in stage IV. Fuck 2020.

What are the odds that the woman whose character made me discover my own breast cancer is now, in fact, dying of the same disease? This will surely haunt me for a long time to come.

More tomorrow? Or soon? It may take a while. Until then: outro to It’s Getting Better.

*also for the record I would like to state that I’ve sewn my own masks from upcycled pillowcases and continued using fruit- and vegetable nets to avoid plastic; maybe that makes up for me being utterly selfish at the moment. Karma +1?

** https://youtu.be/pkgYXITkrfw (the scene from BH 90210)

***cis men / trans women without breasts can also get breast cancer (even though it’s rare) so this meme doesn’t really hold up, but that’s the whole point of the meme ;)

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i-will-be-your-ace · 4 years

Text

Have a sleepless night and find yourself a future wife (how it started)

Part 1 Part 2

Tim once again was stuck in the batcave because of another sleepless night. He couldn't fall asleep even when he tried really hard so he thought about tiring himself this way.

Unfortunately it didn't work the way he wanted it to. On the next morning when Tim took a mug to make a coffee he found all coffee missing. Even his secret stashes. He banged his head on the table a few times knowing that it was either Alfred or Dick or both. He groaned. Fine. He knew a lot of places with good coffee and he will get a cup of the blessed liquid there if they insist.

Tim threw his coat on and went to one of the best cafes near WE called 'Night Owls'. The coffee was delicious and they let him have it as strong as he wanted so it's a win-win situation. Tim never actually paid attention to the interior or baristas in here but today his brain noticed that it had a lot of flowers and plants inside, how comfortable the small couches looked and a bookshelf for those who wants to read. What really caught Tim's eyes was a cute barista with dark blue hair and bright sky blue eyes.

" How can I help you?"

Mari, as her tag said, smiled at him and he was sure that his heart would explode if he stared too long at her smile.

" Ugh b-black coffee please..."

She nodded and went to work. He didn't know if she noticed his blushing that obviously was there but he sure hoped she didn't.

While Tim was stuck in his thoughts Mari already finished his coffee.

" One black coffee! I see that you look as if you didn't sleep at all so I made it strong enough to keep you awake. Have a good day!"

Tim payed and left a generous tip, calling this beautiful lady a saint in his mind.

And damn, the coffee was good. It kept him functioning through the day as if he slept as a baby, and not some insomniac, at night.

Now every time young CEO felt that he will fall asleep he took a short walk to the place that he named a heaven.

Tim would lie if he said he wasn't sad about not seeing Mari some times during those visits. And went to the Night Owls when the bluenette worked more often.

After all those orders they became a good friends or as Marinette, which he found out was her full name, affectionately called them 'fellow night owls'. Apparently she too was bad at sleeping, often thanks to the unexpected inspiration for new designs that hits her at 2 AM.

Today Tim as usual went to get some coffee in his system. When he was close to the shop he saw something really scary. Marinette was chasing Riddler out, while swearing in french, of the cafe with- Is that a wooden spoon?! Tim stared at it with wide eyes, mentally noting to never be on Mari's bad side. Fortunately or not she noticed him and waved. He did the same and, with a calming breath, Tim marched to the small building.

Once inside, he saw that Marinette is already at her working place. The people in line were obviously shocked. But, surprisingly, Mari's co-workers looked calm. He guessed that they were already used to such situations.

When it was Tim's turn he ordered the usual, they talked a little and he went back to the work.

While drinking, he noticed something written on the cup.

' Thought we could text eachother time by time (◠‿◕)

xxxxxxxxxx

or no it's totally fine'

Tim's eyes widened the second time today. When he collected himself he put the number in his phone with intention to send her a message in his office.

With that their friendship grew stronger. They would text eachother and send some memes.

But on one unexpected morning Jason thought it would be funny to take Tim's phone while he was texting someone.

" Replacement. Who's Mari? Your girlfriend?" Jason said while wiggling his eyebrows. Tim immediately blushed.

" No! She's not! Give me my phone right now!"

The taller male gasped dramatically "How?! We need to change that! You gonna thank me later!"

" Jason no!" Tim tried to climb his body. After some time, Jason ended Tim's struggles by giving him his phone back.

Young one quickly took it preparing himself for what his brother did.

' Hey Mari! I really like talking to u and I thought bout a date! If u're up for it tell me where'd u like to go 😉'

' Well uhhh😄... That ice cream shop u mentioned once sounded nice. When r u free?'

Tim took a lot of calming breaths. His brother got him a date with his crush. On one side, he wanted to be grateful, but other side told him to kill Jason for this. But the fact stays, he has a date. With Marinette. On- oh wait he needed to reply when he's free!

---

Marinette's phone vibrated. It was a message from Tim. The first thing that got her attention was an emoji. He's not a fan of using them but right now it's not important. What really is important is the fact that he asked her out. Jeanne, her co-worker and self-proclaimed big sister, squealed once she caught a sight of the message.

" Mari! He asked you out! Come on, reply to him!"

Marinette snapped out of her shock and suggested ice cream shop.

Tim didn't send anything for a minute but then told her when he was free.

Jeanne wiped an imaginary tear "They grow so fast."

Mari rolled her eyes at her sister's antics but smiled fondly. She heard how a doorbell ringed.

" Come on, we have a customer to serve."

" Got it."

Maribat taglist: @novaloptr

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #timmari #timari #timinette #maritim #my fics

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anthologyoflucas · 2 years

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Gen tag dump 2

I am growing sleepless // And you're out of lullabies. (Memes)

sweet melody // you'll be singing in your sleep // But this time you're not listening to a word I say. (Answered)

Trailing in the train rails // blowing where the wind blows // You're young // you are wild // you are free. (End of Thread)

Down in the forest // we’ll sing a chorus // one that everybody knows. (Dash Games)

Sick of all these people talking // Sick of all this noise. (Dash commentary)

#Sick of all these people talking // Sick of all this noise. (Dash commentary)#Let's play a game I'll show you how it's done. (dash / tag games)#Trailing in the train rails // blowing where the wind blows // You're young // you are wild // you are free. (End of Thread)#You're out of lullabies. (Answered)#I am growing sleepless. (Memes)#Puppets on string all dance and sing. (Dash commentary)

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mythvoiced · 4 years

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⭐️ (I just GOTTA know)

@wantedformanysins | — for each “⭐️” i get, i’ll write a headcanon about our muses.

---

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING IT, I was hoping you would >:3c You sent only one but uhm... I’m going to be very loud about the ships/muse combos we’re discussing, so beware for Length™ below the cut. Note: in no way shape or form is there any pressure to accept any of these headcanons and I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on them, whether you agree or disagree with them, and just, all you’ve got to say, please ;W; Also, pretty sure I didn’t miss anyone (not included those we just recently started on) but, like, if I somehow did, shoot me in the face ♥

Going in no particular order.

-. Aziz & Nathaniel I like to think that, pre-wipe, they had a lot of unspoken agreements and settlements between them that were mostly of strategic and social nature, in the sense that, they naturally positioned themselves in ways physically and took on specific roles in conversations with new people (especially when they were up to no good) without having ever discussed who, for example, plays the good cop and who plays the bad cop. They were simply in sync with each other, naturally filling in where the other lacked, covering each other’s backs, backing up crap one of them made up on the spot, they worked together so astoundingly well without ever... sitting down and talking it out, they just completed and complemented each other’s ideas. This faded post-wipe because Aziz no longer remembered how to read Nathaniel, he’s meeting him for the first time again, and Nathaniel isn’t familiar with this Aziz either, but what if part of it is still present, what if subconsciously they still click with each other, especially when bullshitting their way out of things, in ways that would make an observant eye go “well damn, that’s a team, alright”. Now... that’d be lowkey neat, wouldn’t it.

-. Aziz & Diana When the one of them needs to talk, they just know. They walk into the room and the other just knows, from the way they walk in, from the look on their face, the way they hold themselves, they just sense it, when something’s wrong, because they know each other, but also because they care enough to be in tune with it, with the general energy, brightness the other is exuding. So whenever one needs to sit down and be held a while or get something off their chest, they just... know and open their arms.

-. Nathan & Caleb I don’t know where this one came from, but I literally deleted the headcanon I had written before it, just to write this in its stead, and, honestly, but late-night picnic on a spot overlooking a city and then sitting on the hood of a car to watch the stars, I don’t know why, but my brain would like this to be a date they went on at least once, to have it tranquil and romantic and loving, and there’s a lot of leaning on the other and hugging and soft making out - anything else could be done back at home - and enjoying one another’s presence and am I saying that this is the date Caleb would have proposed on? UHm........................ Absolutely

-. Nathan & Junghoon They keep in contact quite regularly even after Junghoon leaves the States, kind of coordinating time-zones until phone calls work, but before they do that, checking in with the occasional text, while Jung collects memes to send Nathan, and always keeps Nathan up to date with any news he gets on Nathan’s favourite artists if he has any, they get each other Christmas presents and basically just maintain this friendship in spite of the distance while Jung keeps telling Nathan that if he ever wants to fly in, he’s got a place to stay, and guaranteeing that he’ll drop in soon again, this time to hang out, though.

-. Aziz & Haniel Weekly meet-ups, or maybe monthly? Or, perhaps, unspecified time-span, but one thing is sure, every now and then Aziz and Haniel just get together to catch up (this when Aziz is with Nathaniel & Diana, so after Aziz & Haniel’s time hanging out together more regularly). They get together, sit down somewhere where they can listen to the wind or watch the sea, and they talk, it’s calm, it’s timeless, as if every time they sat together, the world would spin according to their needs, at their pace, and they’d talk, or maybe they wouldn’t, they’d sit there and enjoy the world breathing around them and one another’s company.

-. Aziz & Muninn They compare stories. Stories they accidentally eavesdropped on, or some tale they stumbled upon in an old book, or anything they might have picked up, when they’re not searching for stories together and when Aziz isn’t potentially too distracted by an episode to keep any in mind, they try to have a few at the ready to discuss when they’ll meet again.

-. Nathan & Chulsoo This one’s angsty and I need your thoughts on all of these, but mayhaps this one in particular, also in case I misunderstood Nathan in any way, but my headcanon for these two is that they spent a lot of nights awake simply lying next to each other without noticing the other was awake and doing the same thing, all the while pondering, and mulling their relationship over, just sleepless hours they dissected the past and the future of their relationship and got nowhere.

-. Emerson & Eunjae THIS ONE’S CUTE, OKAY, HOW ABOUT: exchanging bookmarks. Maybe they’re selfmade, maybe they have some sort of emotional value, or maybe they were bought for specifically this purpose, but what if Emerson and Eunjae got each other special, personalised maybe even, bookmarks as a sign of growing affection between them? Maybe the other’s name is written on it in stylised letters, or maybe a quote they relate to the other is printed onto it, whatever suits Emerson’s style more for what she’d make and what she’d like, basically.

-. Emerson & Catharina They become regulars at a very expensive restaurant that is traditionally or simply ‘usually’ frequented by man only, partly with the purpose to spite these men by navigating this place confidently and with zero shame, all while quickly becoming some of the best customers because they’re polite, treat the waiters with respect, and never showcase any of that stomach churning arrogance the other patrons do, heck, they most likely even memorise some of the employee’s names and just... become favoured because 1. they have the money, 2. they’re decent human beings who treat others with respect unless disrespected first. Also, they fking look amazing, they look like suits and gowns respectively were invented to be worn by them specifically, Emerson outshines every fella in the room by simply wearing what they’re wearing, just... better.

#wantedformanysins #give me a hot minute and i'm going to make a heckload of tags #i never told you the words that meant most now you forgot i ever meant them at all;nathaniel & aziz #i spent years looking for a purpose now i found you and i seek nothing more;diana & aziz #in the book of my life i'd love my bookmark to lie on the page with your name on it;eunjae & emerson #darling to find my equal in you is the richest form of delight;catharina & emerson #i tore us apart like an ugly wound and now the scar doesn't fit;chulsoo & nathan #maybe i could sleep a dozen tranquil nights if i could hold your hand just once today;caleb & nathan #the flowers a mother wishes to see are the ones blooming in her child's heart;haniel & aziz #we'll drag our finger along the letters carved into the world and speak the words out loud;muninn & aziz #if your family's blood is cold hold my hand brother and find the warmth of my palm;junghoon & aziz #n I Ce #;queue

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prince-simon · 5 years

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Because druck robbed us of getting a proper dancing together scene for Matteo and David in s3 would you do “Let’s push all of these stuff away. I wanna dance here right now with you.” and “Are we really doing this? Are we really slow-dancing?” together?

Dear anon, I love you for this prompt. This was so much fun to write! (Also it made me lowkey emo because the second song I’m using here always makes me emo and just dlshdlfsdhf (The songs are german but the lyrics i used i translated and put at the bottom) Also, I changed the wording of the prompts a little bit so it flows better, hope you can forgive me 💖

They hung out at David’s place, both of them kind of in their own little bubble. David was drawing while Matteo looked for new memes for his #matteomonday and #florenzifriday. When Matteo got bored of that, he rolled over to David to watch him draw. Two people tangled together in some kind of dance. “It’s beautiful,” Matteo murmured quietly, not wanting to disturb David.

David smiled and hummed in acknowledgement. “You know, prom is next week…”

“Oh yeah,” Matteo shrugged. He hadn’t really thought about it much. Way back when Sara had asked him if he wanted to go with her, he’d only said yes because he had felt like it had been expected of him and then when they had broken up, he had fleetingly thought about how lucky he had been to get out of it. And with David it had never come up — until now. “I don’t know, I don’t think I’ll go.”

“Oh.” David put his pencil down and looked at Matteo. “Are you sure? It could be fun… going there with the boys.”

Matteo grimaced, “Carlos will go with Kiki and Jonas with Hanna… and Abdi will pine after Sam because I don’t think he has the balls to ask her out. Doesn’t sound like fun to me.”

David looked slightly amused. “Well, I would be there. We could go together. You and I, I mean.”

Matteo blinked at his boyfriend slowly, it was taking him a moment to realise that David wanted them to go together. He felt kinda stupid that he hadn’t thought of it before. “Uhm…”

“It was only an idea. You don’t have to say yes,” David said quickly, going back to drawing, faux casually.

So maybe Matteo was a little slow reading between the lines but when he finally processed what was going on, he grinned, “David Schreibner. Do you want to go to prom with me?”

David bit his lip, looking sheepish. “Maybe?”

“Let’s do it,” Matteo decided. He figured if there was any way to have fun at prom, it would be with David. “I’m horrible at dancing though, so you have to deal with that. And also, I don’t own a suit so…”

“Mmh.” David pretended to think before startling Matteo when he jumped off the bed, standing in the middle of the room and looking around.

“What are you doing?” Matteo laughed.

David shrugged and went to push an armchair out of the way. “Let’s make some room so we can dance.”

“What?”

“I wanna dance here right now. With you,” David said, holding out his hands toward Matteo. When Matteo hesitated, David went over to his desk and opened Spotify on his laptop.

Mark Forster’s Flash mich started playing and Matteo groaned. “Seriously?” He asked.

“Too mainstream for you?” David teased, laughing.

Matteo was done for when David started singing along and jumping around. He couldn’t believe his boyfriend was such a dork, even less so that he actually enjoyed the song when David was singing and dancing to it.

David came closer to Matteo and grabbed his hands to pull him off the bed. When the chorus came around, David looked Matteo straight in the eyes and sang, “Und seit du da bist sind alle Lichter an/Du machst dass ich nicht mehr schlafen kann/Ich sehe uns zwei in alt und grau/Mit weißen Haaren und dickem Bauch.”*

It was ridiculous how fast Matteo’s heart was beating. He loved this boy so fucking much and he’d never say it out loud because he didn’t want to scare David away just yet, but he could actually see them growing old together.

“Not that bad, right?” David asked in between the lyrics.

Matteo groaned but he let himself be yanked around in some weird imitation of dancing.

And then the song changed and everything went quiet. David stopped dancing but he was still looking at Matteo, his gaze intense.

The singer started singing, “Hast du nur ein Wort zu sagen/Nur einen Gedanken dann/Lass es Liebe sein.”**

Matteo felt a lump in his throat, too many words, too many feelings on the brink of spilling out. Instead, he lifted his arms around David’s neck and buried his face in the crook of his neck.

David’s hands found their rightful place on Matteo’s hips and all Matteo could think was, Is this really happening? Am I really slow-dancing with the love of my life right now?

Das ist alles was wir brauchenNoch viel mehr als große WorteLass das alles hinter dirFang nochmal von vorne anDenn

Liebe ist allesLiebe ist allesLiebe ist allesAlles was wir brauchen***

*And since you’re here all the lights are on/I’m sleepless because of you/I see the two of us, old and grey/With white hair and big bellies.”

**If you only have one word to say/Only one thought then/Let it be love.”

***It is all we need/Even more than big words/Leave it all behind you/Just start over again/Because/Love is everything/Love is everything/Love is everything/Everything we need

Prompt me!

#davenzi #datteo #matteo x david #druck #druck fic #matteo florenzi #david schreibner #matteo x beanie boy #am i a writer yet

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sunnyxxmartin · 5 years

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⌠ CHINA ANNE MCCLAIN, 19, (CIS) FEMALE, SHE/HER/HERS⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, SUNSHINE "SUNNY" MARTIN! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in ADVANCED ENCRYPTION / KNIFE FIGHTING SKILLS, SWORD TRAINING, PRECISION SHOOTING, FIREARMS & SWAT TRAINING ; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (bags under her eyes, a blue laptop with many stickers, and a rare smile that can light up a room). when it’s the (gemini)’s birthday on 05/23/2000, they always request their MACARONS from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ kashia, 21, she/her, est⍀

hi everyone, i’m kashia and i’m big excited to be here! fun fact: when i first started rping on tumblr like in 2011/12, a rp with a similar plot to this was my first rp that i joined. so for me to come back to it means a lot to me.

aesthetics

bags under her eyes, sleepless nights, fast typing, rap blasting loudly from headphones, a laugh that can fill a room, clashing of swords, bloody nose after a fight, a black kitten snuggled beside her laptop, a blue laptop with many stickers, yawning in the middle of class, and a picture of a little girl with her older siblings, mother, and father

“So, Ms. Martin, tell us a bit about your past. Why did you decide to come here?”

“Yeah, let’s not call me, “Ms. Martin”, I’m not old. Sunny works, or Sunshine if you wanna remain “professional”. Let’s see, I’m from Alabama where I lived with my mom, dad, and two older siblings. Great relationship with my family, we fight but we always talk it out and hug. I guess I’m one of the “lucky” ones, I bet there are bunch of people here with family problems.” She laughs, it’s a dry and humorless laugh. She’s aware that her “joke” isn’t funny but she still laughs. Sunny clears her throat as the other does not laugh. “Uh, my mom actually inspired me to come here. She went here years ago and I wanted to be like her. But you know, she wasn’t too keen on that. My mom wanted me to live normally, like my two siblings. So I couldn’t go to a special high school like others. But it’s whatever. I applied for this place alongside Yale, Howard, and Harvard, just to please her. Too bad for her, I wasn’t going to choose those places and decided on here.”

“Those are prestigious schools that you applied for, did you get accepted to those schools?”

“Of course I did and without a problem. I excel when it comes to school, I was and still am the perfect student. I’m real good behind a computer. I thank my grandma for that. She was learning how to type and used different programs to do so, I would always watch her and sometimes practiced myself. From that moment, I was always behind a computer or a laptop. I went from learning how to type to learning about html, to creating my own websites to look at other’s codes to hacking.”

“So, you want to become a spy that typically stays behind the scenes?”

“As much as I would love to show my face to others, I’m just more comfortable behind my laptop and with my kitten beside me. But don’t worry, despite being a computer nerd, I can keep up my own. Mom wanted the three of us to have some self defense training so I can protect myself.” There is a slight pause. “That and I used to get into a few fights here and there growing up because of my “mouth” apparently. People are just sensitive if you ask me. But I won’t get into any unnecessary fights here! I won’t do anything that will blow this for me.”

“If you say so. Last thing,you mentioned a cat?”

“Oh yeah, Starlight. She’s my, uh, emotional support animal. I’m not lying or anything, I have the paper work. I was gonna bring her with me wherever I was going to go. She’s a good kitten, she keeps me company when I’m on my laptop. I’m... I’m calm when I have her.”

“Okay then. That is all I have. Thank you for talking to me, Sunshine.”

“Anytime.”

random shit

always has her laptop on her and she’s never doing anything important, starlight is literally her best friend, a meme child a meme child, says “yikes” in a real conversation, a literal joke, okay but she also has a bit of a temper yikes, sometimes forgets that she needs to sleep and eat bc she’s on her laptop, takes her coffee black like her soul (HA)

wanted connections

someone older who she looks up to (OPEN): everyone needs a role model and this is who this person is for sunny. whenever the first year needs help, she’ll go to this person and waits for their answer. she’s like a little puppy whenever she’s with them.

study buddy (OPEN): if she’s going to prove to her mom and everyone else that she deserves to be there, she has to keep up her grades. so, she’ll go to the library and sit there for hours to do work. maybe she meets this person at the library and the two sit at the same table and from there, a bit of a friendship blossoms?

“I-also-didn’t-go-to-a-spy-high-school” team (OPEN): the two bonded one day as they realized that neither one of them went to a fancy spy school prior to now. so, the two bond over this shared thing.

god, i want to punch your face (OPEN): something about this person just pisses sunny off and it takes everything in her to not punch them. we can talk more about this.

fellow “loser” (OPEN): someone who’s also into hacking like this precious baby. she probably calls them her loser friend in public which could look bad

i’m open to any and everything! just hmu!!!

#sunny ☼ all I wanna be is cool #gallagher:intro

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vkstar-cornman · 5 years

Text

Contexts

Lately I’m still feeling very reluctant about blogging and write reflections from time to time, especially the weather had made me quite ill and unproductive. The book art responding to 24/7 started off brightly, but now I am experiencing the phase I would had the same in every other project, which I start being very skeptical on whether if this is a good idea to keep developing on.

So for clarity, for my own reference, I’ll try to explain what I will be doing to myself through inscription to boost my own confidence on this one.

Basically, we all started from the same point, which is to go to 24/7 in Somerset House and see the works being curated together in there. ‘Sleep’ and ‘Surveillance’ were some of the strong concepts being emphasized throughout the exhibition, but I had enough of explaining what I’ve seen there because I’m pretty sure I have done it multiple times already. I will directly skip to the inspiration part. Alexandra Daisy Ginsberg’s Synthetic Orchestration gave me an idea of doing a book with birds as the major appearance in book, her work displayed the restlessness from urban life had extended, and disrupted biosphere as well, causing birds to sing earlier and loud, a change in their communicating mechanisms.

Birds are such fragile yet agile animals that we spot commonly in a lot of places. They have co-existed and dwell in the city with humans for long ages, and I do believe the 24/7 culture shapes their life different in many ways, emerging the traits from a sleepless routine into their nature. Besides light and sound pollution coming from either rapid industrialization or for the needs of working class, there are more physical environmental pollutions than we could imagine that are forcing birds and the other part of nature to adapt such an anxious living mode, which is almost incompatible to most of our natures, not just as human, but as a moral living creature.

What I always found fascinating about birds, is how their life cycle works. Depending on larger or smaller breeds, there’s quite a range in life span, but what matter the most is the stages in life to them are pretty much the same. They go from eggs to hatchlings, nestlings to juvenile and lastly, subadult to fully mature. For smaller breeds, their dead bodies are usually hard to find, as instead of natural causes, they mainly died from predation due to their position in food chain. I don’t actually think there’s any part seems so magical about the life of birds, but I’m just genuinely interested in where do they go before and after at the stage where they still require parental care. Just like the type of things we face in our lives, I study it to try to find associations, because associations always makes good metaphors in communication.

Cutting to the chase, so how is the contextualization working in this project? Some of the people look into how 24/7 culture and late capitalism keep infecting birds, or just genuinely urban wildlife in future, and the unpredictability of impact on the nature just remind me the fact that many people are yet to be delivered to this world, until the age of much more uncertainties comes. For some other family-related certain issues, I decide to dedicate this book art project to the next generation, the generation alpha, a generation fully immersed into the bestest technologies we are seeing nowadays. Some may argue that millennials and generation Zs were already those people of era that lacked the witness of how technology shifted rapidly. What separate us apart from generation alpha, is they will face contract to social media in a much younger age and also a larger extend then we did. It is good or bad? As always, for generally any topics, there are always the good side and the bad side, but only to find out which will outweigh which.

For example, from a video I watched recently that explains a marketing strategy labelled as a creation under ‘late capitalism’, which companies like fast food chain restaurants would take their online presence onto a personification, creating a less formal and official link with netizens, which in contrast boosted their ‘relatability’ and proximity to the public, a friend-like approachable figure with certain unique personalities which could summon an entire ‘fandom’, instead of just a platform grouped with admins that give you really polite but autogenerated replies. The publication and use of hugely popularized substances in millennials and gen Zs like ‘memes’ are largely used to gather a fan base. The idea is no longer to make professional promotions and advertisements in order to attract customers, but to immerse some kind of virtual character into your life, an online presence that you actually think of as a mortal person or even an acquaintance you know from online, that marketers found best apply to the newer generations people.

This kind of techniques start appearing in about mid 2010s, which is the age where generation alpha could either just born, already been born, or starting to explore the world and gotten exposed to internet. Saying this also mean that most of these kids will not be able to witness how these marketing strategies were used and a world before such things existed, and what happens is that it could be very difficult for them to be aware of not constantly getting instilled with such ideas and ‘advertisements’. It sounds like its merely, remotely related to how late capitalism brings 24/7 culture, sleeplessness, blablabla…. But the idea is, there will be people out there, trying to be your friend and mostly their only purpose is to make themselves hard to be gotten rid out of your heads. The world is spinning at hot speed, and each day there are people coming up with multiple ideas about advertisements or other idea-instilling mechanisms, that seems very harmless on surface, but also doesn’t make an antipathic psychological effect on general public. The true negative effects are very subconscious and unpredictable, and that’s what makes it scarier, it will probably make the next generation even less independent with a mobile device or social medias, even we together will bring more advancements in the foreseeable future.

The questions I kept asking myself, is what will happen to them? How will they cope with many upcoming challenges? Will we altogether, be able to solve the problems together? With medical advancements, the latest two generations of people (0-20) are currently treated with the best medical welfare and medication, who are believed to potentially live until 22nd Century. With that being said, generation z and alpha’s timeline of life will be quite similar and will be sharing a lot of time working and collaborating together. What are the things we as a previous generation, a multitude of people who have slightly witnessed a bit more than the alphas do, can remind them of? What are the things generally everyone out there can advise these hatchlings who haven’t seen the world yet? Even though myself is still in an early stage of exploring how this world work under the current system, what are the things we need to fight against? What are they thing we should believe in or not?

I guess these could be counted as my responses to the exhibition, not initially though. I will never be able to find the most fully-covered or precise answers to these questions, but I will try to explore them, and find the keys to the doors after another one. For the book, I focused mainly on the message and with my limitations on accurate measurements, I was a bit uncomfortable in trying to create a distinct format or an original prototype to the book itself. What I want to do, is illustrate the life of birds with multiple medias. What I have already done is screenprinting, drawings with unorthodox ways and digital amendments, the main idea is to create digitally configurated images with natural techniques (sunography in replacement of x-ray? Handdrawing instead of computer-generated image) . During the growing up process for the birds, they don’t face terrorisms or wars, but they face the terror of being exposed to technology and medias in an early age, which effects are quite inmost as I have mentioned.

#bookart #generation alpha #late capitalism

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tarvos · 5 years

Text

Question; “Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that? Here, lemme just—” / Mi Yue n William

William had been working hard for days - three sleepless days to be exact - and therefore he wasn’t paying much attention to what was going on around him. That was, until a voice had broken his concentration and a hand had brushed away his hair. Blue eyes gazed at the female as she had done such things, a smile growing upon his face as he spoke to her. He may have just stopped working, but the gesture was a nice one, and he appreciated that.

❝I am a rather lucky gentleman to have such a kind lady taking care of him, I must say.❞

【 meme || @featherchan 】

#【×】❝ ᴬ ᴿᵒˢᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᴱᵖᵒⁿᵃ ❞ ┊ ask #【×】❝ ᵀʰᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵇᵉʳ ᴸᵃʸ ❞ ┊ ic #【×】❝ ᴾʳⁱᵐᵒʳᵈⁱᵃˡ ᴮʳᵉᵃᵗʰ ❞ ┊ william #featherchan #[ sorry for the wait! ]

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musings-of-the-friendly-nerd · 5 years

Photo

The Beautiful World

Our world is not beautiful, but at the same time it is. We have beautiful landscapes and are making incredible technological advances each and every day, and yet what use do we have for them? Sure, one can complain that our generation has been left with the debt of the very generation that blames us for shortcomings imposed on us, but the most dangerous part is the world we are developing in. Hatred and fear are growing in popularity among the populations that care. As for the rest, apathy and inaction become the norm for their jaded selves.

Solastalgia is defined as an emotional distress caused by a rapidly changing environment. In the 19th century, the idea of solastalgia became common, as the more fortunate members of society no longer wanted to see the ugly cityscapes that were popping up everywhere, choosing instead to escape to the more beautiful natural world that lied there before humanity changed everything. Ignoring the slums, the vices people suffered with, and the poverty that resulted, they sat in their homes looking at a beautiful world.

This piece focuses on a gallery with a large window to the outside, a perfect scene to show the two extremes society is in. On the right, we see our protagonist, an average person wearing grayscale clothes, an analogy for the average human male figure. He’s looking at a “painting” which is really just a photograph I took a few weeks ago. The reason I chose that photograph is the serenity of the scene. When the picture was taken, I was stressed, I was not in what one would call an ideal condition. That same scene was photographed in the dead of night, and even drawn at 3 AM on one particular sleepless night. What brings me to it is the peace that it brings. Looking at the bridge, and seeing Prudential Tower through the trees, gave me the impression that nothing was wrong with the world. That exact message, while necessary for me at the time, is exactly what is wrong with the world. While it is healthy to escape sometimes and appreciate the beauty of the world, it becomes dangerous when problems and responsibilities are actively ignored in exchange for this peace and serenity.

The scenes outside are only a glimpse of the harsh reality that we face in this country. Being the child of immigrants, I chose a scene at the border, although race relations and issues of the LGBTQ+ community could also have been chosen. Here we see abstractions of a child being ripped away from her mother by a white man, child in one arm, assault rifle in the other. The only identifying feature here is skin tone, for some clear reasons (cue pointing at my own arm). Otherwise, this could be any woman, child, and soldier who for some reason this administration sent to the border. Behind this tragic scene are members of the Ku Klux Klan in their recognizable white hoods holding signs, one with a swastika, the other reading “Spic go home”, which is about as offensive as the n-word for African Americans. Their presence would be powerful enough without a blood stain on the ground. The shape intentionally suggests that the body that left it there was crawling, and it is supposed to be the father of the child that is being taken away. The Border Patrol truck is there as a display of the authority that is doing this to the innocent people, and a few dumpster fires are thrown in as more imagery to show the unrest of the situation.

Rounding out this visual ton of bricks is the image to the left of the scene. Despite it being heavily blurred, you might recognize the words “this is fine”, referencing a comic by K.C. Green that achieved meme status in 2015, and encompasses exactly what I want this work to dispel. For those that can’t make it out entirely, it’s the dog sitting in a burning room, and in the next panel he takes a sip out of his mug. This comic was used extensively during the 2016 election when we got this rogue Oompa Loompa voted into office and became the symbol of actively ignoring a problem when it could very well be consuming you as we speak. It got so bad that the original creator reached out to the satirical Political comic publisher The Nib to create a second version where the same dog screams out “This is not fine”, proceeds to try desperately to put out the fires, then sits in its chair in the ruined room in pain. This piece, like Green’s response comic, is meant to wake everyone up. This is not fine, and instead of telling ourselves that the world is all peaches and cream, and looking at everything with rose tinted glasses, we can recognize the world for what it is, and do something about it. The worst thing that you can do when faced with a problem is actively ignore it.

I started out this piece saying, “Our world is not beautiful, but at the same time it is.” I would like to change that statement. The world is not beautiful; therefore, it is. People fighting for justice, rallying for their own sake or even better, the sake of others. This ugly world gives many the chance to prove the beauty of it by standing together and making it better for future generations. This can all happen, we just need to stop ignoring the problems around us, and do something about the world we’re in.

#my art #solastalgia #the beautiful world #again with the musings...#my life #art project

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