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It’s officially “lip balm is a necessity not an accessory” season.
#i hate winter#I wish my burning hatred translated into actual heat#my lip is so cracked it’s bleeding#😢#help me chapstick#you’re my only hope
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Gawain Profile (FGO Material Book IV)
Hey hi! It’s been a month (well, a month and a couple days...), so here’s a patreon post from last month! The original can be seen here, at my patreon (this particular post also now public).
💜 If you like these translations, please consider supporting me on my patreon - for just $1 you’ll get early access to translations I do that aren’t commissions, and for $5 you can have a say in what I decide to translate! If patreon isn’t your cup of tea, I also have a ko-fi you can donate to! As always, thank you for supporting me!
Class Skills
Magic Resistance: B
Negates Magecraft with an incantation that is three verses or fewer. It is difficult to hurt him even with things such as High-Thaumaturgy, Greater Rituals, etc.
Riding: B
The ability to ride (vehicles, animals, etc.) He can handle most mounts better than ordinary people, though he cannot ride Phantasmal Species.
Personal Skills
Numeral of the Saint: EX
A unique characteristic Sir Gawain possesses. It allows his power to triple from 9 am to noon, and from 3 pm to sunset. It is indicative of the number 3 as sacred among the Celts.
Charisma: E
One’s ability to attract others. As a perfect knight, it works particularly strongly on junior knights and soldiers.
Noble Phantasm
Excalibur Galatine
Rank: A+ Type: Anti-Army Range: 20~40 Maximum Number of Targets: 300 people
Excalibur Galatine. The Sword of the Sun - its hilt holds a pseudo-sun within. Just as King Arthur’s “Sword of Promised Victory,” Excalibur Galatine is its sister sword given by the fae “Lady of the Lake.” It is a Holy Sword not oft spoken of in the legends. Whereas the king and his sword received the divine protection of the moon, Gawain and his sword were blessed by the sun. If the “Sword of Promised Victory” slices in two with the light of the stars, the “Sword of the Ideal Ruler’s Victory” burns all in its path to nothing with the scorching heat of the sun. Additionally, while the “Sword of Promised Victory” is an attack concentrated on a single point, the “Sword of the Ideal Ruler’s Victory” is a lateral emission type of attack meant to obliterate enemy soldiers.
Personality
Hailed as the “Knight of the Sun,” he has a serious personality that nonetheless never becomes stiff enough to be oppressive. It’s this attitude that makes him come off as an upstanding and purehearted young man. Though he’s tall and cuts a trim figure, he has quite a sturdy build. Furthermore, he’s a handsome man with a gentle face and fine features. His tone is refreshing, and he never makes light of an opponent nor holds them in contempt. Even if his opponent is unskilled, he will assess their fighting spirit and preparedness, and courteously have a bout with them. However, because he deliberately keeps his personal feelings in check - for reasons to be discussed later - his intrinsic high-mindedness and earnestness-to-the-point-of-seriousness become all the more emphasized. To put it gently, he’s inflexible; to put it bluntly, he’s the type of guy who can’t read the room. Known as a loyal knight, with his left-over regrets at not being able to save his king the last time he was summoned as a Servant, as well as his iron loyalty and unwavering trust toward his king, he wants nothing more than to be the sole sword that swings for the sake of his king alone. Witnessing that blind devotion during the Moon Cell Grail War, Nero (Saber) put it well - “So, should you be ordered to cut down a faithful friend, would you do it?” she asked. To which he responded, “Of course. If it is my Lord’s desire, I will dirty my hands with any act, no matter how shameful. That is what it means to be a sword. My Lord is never wrong. If anything must be cast as ‘wrong,’ then the fault lies not with my King, but with my now-executed friend,” he responded, smiling.
Motivation and Attitude Toward Master
From a Master’s perspective, he’s an ideal Servant as he’s placed selfless devotion above all else due to allowing Britain to split because of his personal grudge during his lifetime, and the regret that stems from that. He is a Servant who embodies the role of a knight serving his king - though whether or not his Master is worthy of being king is up for debate. For the sake of his raison d’etre - to serve as his king’s assistant - he devotes himself fully to being the sword of a Master who he has recognized as carrying the king’s authority. While his Master is speaking, he’ll never say a word himself, and will only speak during times such as acting as a proxy to his Master after they leave, always taking into consideration his attitude as a knight and a vassal.
Dialogue Examples
“I am his loyal servant, Gawain. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I hope you will make for a worthy opponent to my lord.” “As you wish. My holy sword is the embodiment of the sun itself. By my king’s decree, I shall reduce everything on this earth to ashes.” “This sword is a reflection of the sun. Another holy sword of the planet…… Excalibur Galatine!” “Make way for the brilliance before the evening’s tide, the sweeping blade that is the holy sword of the planet! Excalibur Galatine!!” “Doesn’t quantity matter more than quality in a meal? A huge amount of potatoes, vinegar, and bread should be fine. And if there’s ale, that’s all I need to be satisfied. I suppose vegetables are good, too. Even eating just carrots should be alright. My king used to eat everything without a single complaint, after all.”
This Figure in History
He appears in the Legend of King Arthur as an outstanding knight of the Round Table, able to rival even “Lancelot of the Lake.” He is the firstborn of King Lot of Orkney. As Arthur’s relative, he was entrusted with the holy sword, Excalibur. He was known as a virtuous man, and many legends extol his various martial achievements. His sole weakness is his strong affection for his family. This resulted in conflict with knights that dared to harm his relatives, starting with King Pellinore who defeated his father in battle. Sometimes these conflicts would end in the death of the other knight. Even when Lancelot and Queen Guinevere fled to Gaul, he strongly opposed King Arthur’s forgiveness of them, and drew him into a war against Lancelot. This is due to Lancelot killing Gawain’s brothers while he absconded with Guinevere. He fought against Mordred’s rebellion while severely wounded after dueling Lancelot, and with his dying breath begged King Arthur to call on Lancelot for reinforcements. He bears a profound regret due to his personal grudge resulting in the schism between the Knights of the Round Table…...
Role in Previous Works
Appears in Fate/EXTRA. Because Gawain regretted that King Arthur died because he could not let go of his hatred of Lancelot during his lifetime, he devotes himself completely to the role of his king’s assistant, considering it his duty above all else. Thus he is selflessly devoted to his Master, a young King who from birth was deemed to possess the ability to be the ideal ruler, who he recognizes as such. However, he understood that what his Master lacked in order to become a True King was “defeat.” Even so, he chose to serve as his Master’s sword with all his might until that time came.
Ties to Characters
Arturia: The chance to fight together once again…… When will another miracle like this happen?
Mordred: I understand her situation. Among other things.
Lancelot: No comment.
Galahad: Putting aside the issue of Lancelot for the moment, Galahad is a wonderful knight. If an angel took human form, it would be someone like him.
Tristan: He’s Sir “Sometimes-I’m-Actually-Sleeping”……
Illustrator Comment
I drew Gawain’s third ascension wanting him to have the feeling of being on his day off. I’d be happy if he could become someone who gives the impression of a muscular yet princely type, but… Tapping into that kind of feeling - because his default standing pose was already a little relaxed, I thought it’d be nice if he had the feeling of pulling the viewer to their feet slightly firmly. - Wada Arco
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Hank ft. Connor, reader
How Hank found his way back to life.
A/N: Sooo, I’ve been thinking about writing with this song for a long time. This is my favorite Japanese song from my favorite artist. I thought abt write with ma bois, but after some thinking, I figure probably only Hank in DBH could fit this song. And I didn’t think it would turn out to be this long. Hope you all enjoy this. Thank you :)
p.s. not so good at translating, so I borrow some translation from Lyricstranslate.com
Song: Amazarashi - 僕は死のうと思ったのは(Once I thought about dying)
Once I thought about dying, because my heart had became all empty. Whenever someone cry for not being happy, I’m sure it’s because they really want to be.
It was another Monday night, Hank found himself in a bar, luxuriating in the numbness provided by the alcohol, and the hypnotizing music muffled by the low whispers of other patrons. Like falling into a deep lake, lights fading, into infinite darkness, being suffocated with the cold dark water, until he became stiff, falling and falling. He spent most of nights like this, staring blankly into a glass full of whiskey, replaying the accident in his head again and again. He hated the face inside the golden liquid staring back to him, an old soul filled with hatred, cursing indefinitely. Words cutting like a thousand knives, anger burning furiously inside him, eventually all that left was a tattered shell cold and numb, withered and still.
Splash of blood painted on the snowy white, dark red liquid spread like velvet on the soft ground, oozing into the earth, digging deep, till nothing left on the surface. Like a sinking stone, a life descended into the earth, vanished with time. Two hearts were taken away in a white corridor by the white angels covered in crimson. Pitiless phrases flew over his head, merging with the white noise wandering in the bleached corridor, flew into space, disappeared nowhere. The soft jazz turned into classic rock, the strings of guitar tightened his every sense. The golden liquid had gone, left a glass full of empty air.
Despite the warmth indoor, he couldn’t help but feel surrounded by frozen air, every inch of him, shivering. Every breath he took feels like it’s filled with thick rusty smell, blending in with the dizzying alcohol. If only all of these could take him away from where he was. Alcohol certainly lifted him up during the process of taking it, but after the night it would be another heavy fall, and a tormenting pain would haunt him for the rest of the day, before he took another sip to lift himself up. He scoffed at himself, vibration in his throat, a laughter came out but eventually absorbed by the mellow surrounding.
“Another one?”
The bartender noticed the empty glass. Golden light spread across the dark counter as the whiskey bottle was raised into the air, shimmering under the dim amber light. Then it dropped, a tiny golden waterfall, gently fell into a gleaming glass, creating a little splash. The man in the glass came back. He looked older with every sip. Weariness crept across his face, leaving deep lines and a frown tight as knot. Eventually he was gone, vanished within the bottomless glass.
He never liked the part of leaving the bar. All of his efforts were instantly crashed with the merciless wind roaring on the street. Threw back into the reality from the embrace of the warmth. Awake he was again, into the night.
Once I thought about dying, because my shoelaces came undone. I was never very good at retying them, kind of like how I am with the ties between people.
Dealing with normal people with intention was never hard for him. Give people what they want, or completely ignore them. Be nice to those who are nice to you; be an asshole to those who are asshole. Or just be a complete asshole and be alone. For him being an asshole was not hard when he’s alone. After all the cries into the void, he was used of a vast emptiness. He had became tired of trying. Nothing around him gave him much hope in the world. Another crime, another gruesome murder. Ragged corpse lying in a pool of scarlet, foul smell creeping into his nasal. They were like stop motion pictures flying before him, so fast, and so negligible. Flying past his eyes, tangled with other disturbance in the world, and disappeared in the turbulence.
If there was one thing that stir up trouble inside him, it would be android. Indistinguishable from human, yet hard to read, hard to deal with, for they have no intention. When he was assigned on a series of cases with the newest android, he was furious.
Connor, the android sent by cyberlife, that’s what the thing called itself. It had no desire beside accomplishing the mission. It appeared in the middle of nowhere, ripped Hank from his comfort. However, he was impressed by how fast it was able to put the clues together when they caught the first rogue android that killed its owner. He was even moved a little when Connor showed compassion toward the deviant. Yet was it compassion? Doubts still lingered in his mind. He couldn’t trust Connor, after all androids work with logic, so there must be a reason other than compassion behind the kind act. It’s probably just a reflection of what he wanted to see in this world, interpreted the action with his own wish, twisted the world for his own desire.
The nature of determination in Connor still annoyed him. Being assigned as partner didn’t much help with the state he was in at the time. Every words coming out from the plastic mouth felt like an insult, like fuel adding into the raging fire inside him. A report of a missing android was savior for the heated moment, and maybe, he thought, some rain could help cool him down.
Once I thought about dying, because people said that I don’t have a heart. Whenever someone cry for not being loved, I’m sure it’s because they already knew what’s like being loved.
Although it only seemed like a trifle, he was happy it got him out of the office. As he was standing in the rain, listening to the briefing, he watched Connor standing by the car idly. Blue light flickering around his temple calmly as he turned his head to look around the area. The rain pouring down from the sky somehow seemed like a refreshment for the mind. Yet it couldn’t wash away the weariness in him. It felt like a complete wild-goose chase.
Eventually the android they were looking for escaped right in front of them. Connor was ready to give his life to chase the android across the busy highway. Yet he listened to Hank, although utterly frustrated by the result, he was safe, which strangely provide comfort to Hank knowing Connor listens to him, for the most part.
As the android crossed the highway with the little girl, they witnessed a person appeared from the other side. It was a figure wearing black, dark hood covered the face. Hank managed to take a glimpse at the figure when the figure turned around to check on Hank and Connor. An indescribable feeling rose inside him, like a flood pouring into his mind. Call it a hunch, a detective instinct--they will meet again.
It didn’t take much time for the hunch to come true. As he was grabbing his high-calorie lunch, the mysterious figure still haunted him, lingered inside him as he devoured the hamburger.
When Connor approached him and started the conversation, he noticed the surroundings were unusually quiet. Connor’s voice somehow sounded soothing mixing with the pouring rain, at least it lost the condescending tone from earlier. And the fact an android was trying to get along with him amused him.
“Why did you stop me?” Connor asked him with genuine curiosity written on his face. “I didn’t want to damage the property.”
He replied with a humorous annotation. That’s only half of the truth. Certainly writing a full report would be a dreadful idea; he’s never good at coming out with all sorts of reason to explain a situation that just simply got out of hands. In the same time he started to see something special inside Connor, a purity that he hadn’t seen in the people around him for a long time. When Connor told him everything he knew about him he was actually a bit glad because he was sick of lying, sick of the ability to distinguish lies and truths. Nevertheless, Connor still crept Hank out with everything he did. The wink at the end of the conversation would haunt Hank for days.
They managed to find another android later that day. Hank almost ran out of breaths trying to catch up with Connor and the android. They ran through roofs after roofs, farms after farms. Fields of grains, greenhouses, even across the moving subway. It was like nothing he had ever seen. When he finally caught up with the android, it pushed him off the roof and ran toward a dark figure. The figure handed something to the android and urged it to run away. But the figure remained, you remained.
You stood there for a few seconds, like contemplating on the thought whether to escape or not. You cautiously approached to Hank by the edge of the roof and tried to pull him up by yourself. Yet not to your surprise you couldn’t do it by yourself. Connor finally caught up, and pull up Hank with you.
It took awhile for Hank to gather his breaths. He was speechless, looking at you with disbelief. As you were standing up and readied to leave, a hard grip stopped you from doing that.
“You were at the highway.”
The hand grasping your wrist strengthened as Connor finished his sentence. Even Hank could feel a sense of intimidation coming from Connor, the strength Connor had putting onto you wrist felt visible as a silent agony crept onto your calm expression. He finally stepped in between of you, and took your hand in his.
“Ma’am you need to come with us.”
Once I thought about dying, because I saw your beautiful smile. Whenever someone can’t help but think about dying, I’m sure it’s because we all try a bit too hard.
You’d never been into an interrogation room. Never expected tension could be so strong in the air. Sitting on the other side of the table was Hank, looking at you as if you were something he had never seen before. Yet you just sat there, gaze fixing on the ground, surprisingly not nervous, which for Hank found it oddly intrigued. He noticed a badge with a square symbol on it hanging loosely by the collar, took note to ask about it later. Although Hank could’ve gotten all your information from Connor, as he was sure that Connor already got plenty by just scanning you, he decided to take the approach in the old fashion way, slowly.
“Do you know why you are in here?” “No.“
Your gaze fixed on the red book laying under Hank’s hand. He noticed your gaze, took the book up and scanned through the indecipherable pages.
“You know what it is?” “Yes,”
From your gesture, Hank could tell you were somewhat scared. Arms crossing on your chest, back slightly arched, you looked cornered, yet without hostility.
“You know that deviant. Why were you helping him?” Standing behind Hank, Connor was agitated on pressing questions. This is the closest opportunity to push forward the investigation, because so far it felt like there wasn’t any progress, and in two of the occasions it is because of you.
“He’s my friend.” “He’s a deviant. Deviant can be dangerous.” “He’s not dangerous.” “He nearly killed Hank.” “He panicked.” “Connor.” Hank stopped your conversation, “Wait outside would ya?” “But lieutenant,” “Connor.”
When Connor finally left the room. Hank noticed the red on your wrist, must came from that grip earlier, he thought. His eagle like gaze scanned you thoroughly. There were not much he could find, all black, beside the small badge hanging by the collar, and the subtle confidence gleaming quietly in your eyes. It felt familiar, the symbol, four lines forming a octagon, in the middle was an empty square. He couldn’t remember where he saw this though.
“So the android is your friend?” “Yes, he is.” “Do you know what it is?” He picked up the red book , waving it around in front of him. “It’s his diary.” “What’s written on it? Anything important on it?” “I don’t know.”
He put down the book and frowned. He needed to change an approach, then he remember the other android from the morning. Headaches started to kick in as he was refreshing his memory.
“What about in the morning, what were you doing there?” “Some androids told me about it, so I went.” “So you just went there?” “Yes, I wanted to help them.” “Why?” “Why not?”
You looked at him, as if it was a question that needed no answer. By then he felt like there’s no more reasons to keep you at the police station. After all, you didn’t violate any law, and you saved his life. You could’ve just ran away, and let him fall because he knew he couldn’t hold on much longer at this physical state. He chuckled, and saw the bewildered expression on your face.
“Well, You are free to go.” “You are not going to arrest me?” “Why? You done something wrong?” “Uh, no?” “That’s it then. C’mon.”
He stood up and guided you toward the door like a gentleman. Before open the door, he turned around and ask.
“By the way what is that badge?” “It’s a symbol.” “Well, does it mean anything?” “Slaves used it back when they were escaping through the underground railroad.”
He remembered where he saw this, back in his history class. He nodded thoughtfully and proceeded opening the door. When the door opened you nearly bumped into Connor who was standing so close to the exit. Hank saw the your reaction you had when you saw Connor--unconsciously protecting your wrist, startled.
“Sorry ma’am.” Connor was the first to speak. “It’s ok,” Rubbing your wrist with another hand. “Goodbye.” “Hold on ma’am.”
As you turned around in small steps, Hank called. You turned and saw a small piece of hard displaying in front of you.
“If you think of anything, call me.” Cautiously taking the card from his hand, you nodded in the smallest angle. “Thank you,” your mouth curled subtly, replied in a warm tone. “I will.”
They stood at the corridor and watched you leaving the station. From the corner of his eyes, Hank notice a faint yellow flickering around Connor’s temple. He was confused by the hesitation that kept Connor from asking question, because he imagined by now he would at least ask 10 questions non stop by now. Yet he couldn’t care less. He was tired from all the chasing. The rain and the alcohol probably had some effect on him as well. The beating pain in his head torturing his senses.
“Well, I am heading home now.” He stretched and groaned. “The headache is killing me.” “You should cut down on the alcohol lieutenant, your body would be overwhelmed if you continue drinking like this.” “Shut the fuck up.”
He scoffed, and laid a friendly pat on Connor’s shoulder. He didn’t need to look back to know the yellow light still lingered around Connor’s temple.
Into the rain again he went, back to his cozy home with Sumo.
Once I thought about dying, because you hadn’t came into my life. And if people like you can exist in this world, then maybe I like it a little after all.
That night at the Eden Club was truly an eye opening for him. It wasn’t until then that he understood your words, and understand the hesitation from Connor. He needed to think, he hadn’t feel anything for a long time, expect of the agony that dig deeper into him everyday since three years ago. He hadn’t feel any sense of warmth, any sense of hope. Maybe the world was worth it, after all he had witnessed recently. Maybe among the violence, and bloodshed, the indifference, there’s still something else in this world. This belief was reinforced after the Kamski incident.
His frustration when he was told to let go of the case was unpredictable before today. Even Fowler was stunned by his attitude. It didn’t take him long to agree to help Connor when Connor came begging with some sort of desperation. He never expected himself to care about this android, but after all they had been through, all he had seen from him, he was happy to. Plus the thought of pouring his anger on that FBI prick was very tantalizing.
With an anxious mind he was sent back home. Lying on the sofa with a glass of whiskey again, he couldn’t shake away off the thoughts of androids in his head. There’s going to be something huge that night. The golden liquid in his hand, shed mellow light onto his face as he looked at the light through the glass. Memories flashed in front of him. He thought of that night from three years ago a lot, but recently he was finally able to steer his mind onto other matters.
Then the phone rang.
Sumo woke up from his sleep and looked at Hank with patience, as he took time putting down the glass, stood up to find his phone.
“Hello?” “Hello, is this Lieutenant Anderson?” He recognized this voice. “Yes, this is him.” “Hi, sorry I haven’t introduced myself. I’m [Y/N].”
“Yeah I recognized your voice…” He remembered you took his card, and carefully put it inside the pocket in your pants. Your back slightly arched while you’re walking as if a burden laid heavily on you. Your attentive words, and the confidence in your eyes. You sure had left him quite an impression. “[Y/N] is it?”
“Yes, sorry to call you at this time, there’s something I need to tell you.” “I’m listening.” “As you probably had figured it out, “ You paused for a second, silence in the air. “I’m helping a group of androids.” “Go on.”
He walked back to his room as he was listening to you explaining Jericho. Needless to say he was a bit amazed how a group of androids managed to stay hidden for so long, and how you, had spent your time devoted in helping them. A smile quietly crept on to his face while he listened to your story.
“But something happened earlier lieutenant, “Your voice became distressed. “We…” He could feel hesitation through the cold cellphone. “Connor, needs your help.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, listening to everything that had happened tonight. When he heard about what happened to Connor, he wasn’t shock, instead he was relief. Then you proposed a plan.
“I can get you into Cyberlife’s warehouse.” “You are full of surprise, aren’t you?” “I have connection, that’s all.” “I will come, but no guarantees.” “Thank you.”
A warmth rose up in his chest, he didn’t sure whether it was because of the whiskey or the conversation. Something important was happening tonight. He put on his clothes as fast as possible, hugged Sumo with all the love as he stood at the door preparing to leave.
Into the night again he went, with a sense of determination and hope, he went into the stormy night.
And if people like you are living in this world, then maybe it’s alright to hope a little too.
Everything happened so fast as he entered the white tower standing alone on the Belle-Isle. He saw you at the gate wearing a badge of cyberlife employee, greeted him with hospitality. Then Connor came, snatched him away from you with a work excuse. He didn’t suspect that much before he saw your face covered in fear as he was being taken away. It didn’t take long for him to find a gun pointing in his head. The expression on Connor’s face turned cold that he had never seen before.
“Sorry to disappoint you lieutenant Anderson.” He spoke with a voice sharp as a frozen blade, the smile on his face expressed nothing but despise. “We are just going to pay my predecessor a little visit.”
Hank stayed silent as he turned his focus on the monitors in the elevator, and watched the flickering light inside this dim elevator. It reminded him of the feeling of falling into the dark lake, instead this time, he was dragged into the darkness by a unrelenting force. Yet he felt that there’d be a light in the end, somehow. He just had a hunch.
“It’s nothing personal, lieutenant Anderson.”As he pushed Hank outside to the dark corridor he spoke again. “It’s just for the mission.”
He could see Connor lingering in the sea of androids. He wanted to shout but he figured it would probably ruined everything. So he chose to wait for the right moment.
He had a little faith in Connor, but he had faith, that’s enough. It was almost like a moment of enlightenment when Connor chose to save him. He fell and watched everything unfolded in front of him. For a moment he thought this could probably be the most bizarre scene he had ever witnessed in his life. Two people looking exactly the same fighting with each other like mirror image.
He gathered his breaths and stood up. Pointing his gun at the indistinguishable androids, asking questions trying to figure out who’s the real Connor. Eventually he asked the question that haunted him for long.
“My son, what’s his name?”
The scarlet velvet spreading on the ground. The tiny body lying almost motionless on the soft white carpet. Two souls was taken away that night, by the angel in white.
“Cole.”
He didn’t expect to hear this name again from an android. He didn’t expect the android spoke in such compassionate tone that it felt like a human. He didn’t expect those eyes looking at him with both with fear and understanding. He didn’t expect to be touched and dragged further and further, away from the bottom of the lake.
A bullet pierced through the head of Connor. Falling, nothing but a sound of void. They stood. Blue liquid covering the white floor.
“I’ve learned a lot since I met you Connor.” He shifted his gaze to the motionless android laying on the cold white floor. “Maybe there’s something to it.” Then shifted his gaze to Connor, who’s looking at him with slight confusion. “Maybe you’ll be the ones to make the world a better place...” He urged Connor to finish his mission.
Being waken up from sleep, an android after another, calling each other into life.
Then he bid Connor with luck, and made his way back to the outside.
To his surprise the building had somehow became empty. He walked to his car and saw you standing beside it, alone in the snow, covered in black.
“Thank you for coming lieutenant Anderson.” “No sweat... Where’s everyone?” “They evacuated after Connor woke the androids up.” “I guess you lost your job?” “Well,” You chuckled. “I didn’t really like that job anyway.” “You think things will work out tonight?” “I certainly hope so.” Rubbing your wrist again, you contemplated for a second, and spoke with confident. “It will.” “Let’s go then.” He opened the car door, and instructed you to get on the vehicle. “Let’s go celebrate.” “Already?” “It will be alright. I have a good feeling about this.” He laughed.”And trust me, my hunch has been working pretty well recently.”
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Girlsies Week Day 2: Modern Era | @girlsiesweek
The Newsies in high school participate in the National Student Walkout despite their principal’s wishes.
reblog & support me on ao3 if you enjoy!
• • •
The number of students that showed up to the walkout meeting was incredible. Miss Larkin, though technically not allowed to help them, allowed a band of students to use her classroom if they wanted to organize a student walkout. In all honesty, Katherine only expected it to be her and her close friends but was shocked when she entered the room to see nearly every seat filled. Kids from every grade level sat in the room, chatting amongst themselves. Katherine went and sat next to Sarah.
“Thanks for saving me a seat,” Katherine said, smiling. She dumped her bag on the floor and sat down.
“No problem,” Sarah replied. “How’s your speech going?” Katherine inhaled through her teeth, and Sarah laughed. “Not good?”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Katherine waved her off, “I’m just nervous.”
“Don’t be, you’ll be fine,” Sarah said.
Before Katherine could reply, Miss Larkin stood up and got everyone’s attention.
“Hello, children! My, what a lovely bunch we have here!” She grinned from ear to ear and scanned the room. “I see we’ve got Jack with us, and Davey, and Hannah, and – oh, and is that Romeo back there?” She laughed jovially. “And I see plenty of new faces, as well!” Her eyes swept over the room, taking in all the familiar and unfamiliar students she hosted. “Well, regardless of whether you know me or not, you all know Mr. Pulitzer’s stance on this event, don’t you?”
Many students nodded, some solemn, some angry. A couple of the rowdier kids shouted out insults.
“Well, this little meeting is between us, alright?” She said. She stared at them all, making sure they got the point stuck in their head. “This is a student-led organization – I’m not involved what-so-ev-er, I’m just letting you use my room. Got it?”
“Yes, Miss Larkin!”
“Alright. Why don’t we start by throwing around ideas?”
The kids in the room all began to share their vision for the walkout. Miss Larkin let Hannah use her desktop to list out the ideas on a document, which was then shared with all the other kids. Ideas were thrown left and right, and It was clear in their eyes that they were passionate, that they were willing to face any punishment they were threatened with.
At some point, they got on the topic of guest speakers. Miss Larkin asked if anyone was interested in speaking, and Katherine slowly raised her hand.
“Ah, Miss Katherine!” Miss Larkin clapped her hands together. “You would like to speak?”
“Yes ma’am,” Katherine replied. “I have a rough draft, actually, would you like me to read it?”
“Of course!” She said. She gestured in a go right ahead motion, and Katherine opened up her notebook to her speech. Katherine took a deep breath, then began to read. The room was quiet, listening to her words forged out of anger and impatience. The speech was short, only a few paragraphs, and she finished before she knew it. The classroom applauded, some giving various shouts of approval.
Katherine smiled, very modest, and thanked the room. Sarah gave her a bump on the shoulder that translated to good job! As the others gave suggestions for her speech, she wrote them down in her notebook and bounced back ideas off of the suggestions. It worked rather well, and by the time they were done, Katherine had a plethora of things to add to her draft.
The next meeting was exactly a week later. Katherine, Sarah, and Hannah met up as soon as they were dismissed and walked to the drama room together. There weren’t as many kids this time – all the less passionate ones had been weeded out. Now they were left with mostly the theatre kids, SGA kids, chorus kids, yearbook kids, and some others; all fired up and ready to take on the world.
Once the meeting started, the students began to narrow down all their ideas, and focus on which they wanted to do and how it was going to be done. Ideas were still all over the place, but they were getting there.
Katherine began to take charge. She stood up and read a revised version of her speech, and listened to any remaining suggestions her peers had to offer. Then, as they continued along, she gave suggestions on what to change and how to organize things. She started a big group chat with all of them in it, and then they could plan even when they weren’t in a meeting.
Everyone spread the word on social media: Walkout on March 14th, 10:00 am at the front gate. They told their friends and posted it on Snapchat, Instagram, and Twitter. If they wanted to prove to Mr. Pulitzer that they mean business, they needed as many kids on board as possible.
The next meeting was on the Friday before the walkout. The meeting began as usual, and the group started to form a schedule for the walkout. Sarah stood at the whiteboard, listing off the events: introduction, 3 minutes; honoring the victims followed by a moment of silence, 3 minutes; Katherine’s speech, 5 minutes; chanting, 6 minutes. Jack, a theatre techie, planned on getting a mic and speaker to hook up beforehand – and, as the Junior Class President, was willing to present the introductory speech at the start of the walkout (written by Davey, the Junior Class VP, of course). Katherine told all her friends in yearbook to be there with their cameras, and Sarah helped Katherine finish her speech. They were getting everything figured out and ready for Wednesday.
Suddenly, the door swung open.
The kids didn’t bother at first, assuming it was just Miss Larkin coming back from the restroom, but then a deep voice boomed across the room.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
Everyone froze. There in the doorway stood the principal, Mr. Pulitzer.
He stepped slowly into the room, taking a good look at each student. Everyone stood silently, brewing in their anger, hatred, and fear – it radiated off their bodies like heat, changing the very atmosphere of the room. Mr. Pulitzer either didn’t notice it or didn’t care (probably the latter). He put one hand on his hip and leaned the other against a desk, with a very menacing smile plastered on his face.
After a horrible, horrible moment of silence, he finally spoke. “I told you all that events of these kinds will not be permitted at this school,” he said. His eyes swept over the room, looking at each student to make sure his point was clear. “Unless you children want to be suspended, I suggest you disband this at once.”
“How’d you find out?”
Everyone turned towards the voice – Sarah Jacobs. She stood tall, making fierce eye contact with the principal.
Mr. Pulitzer smiled as if he expected the question to arise (he did, of course). “You kids and your social media,” he said, shaking his head with a laugh. “You think that an old man like me doesn’t know how your brains work? Our deans have their eyes all over your profiles – your Snapchats, your Tweets, everything.”
Their eyes widened, and the silence continued. All their hearts beat collectively; a quick, pounding sound in their ears.
“You can’t stop us now,” Jack said, “Word’s already out.”
“Oh, no, I can’t stop you,” Mr. Pulitzer said, “But you can.”
The kids blinked at him questioningly. He cleared his throat and continued.
“You kids go back onto your Snapchats, and your Instagrams,” he said, “and tell all your friends that the walkout is off.”
"Yeah, and what if we don’t?”
“Then your colleges will see a three-day suspension for insubordination on your permanent record.”
No one said anything to this. Any remaining fear in the room had long since burned into hatred. Mr. Pulitzer seemed quite satisfied with the looks on their faces.
Jack took a step forward, full of rage. “You can’t just be quiet about this! Kids are dying in schools, a place where we come to learn! That just ain’t right! You’re trying to silence us for wanting the right to be safe?”
“I will not allow this school to become involved in this political scheme!” Pulitzer yelled. Everyone flinched. “We are tightening security, we are doing monthly searches, we are doing active shooter drills. I am doing what I can to make this school safer.”
“That ain’t enough!”
Mr. Pulitzer regained his composure, and his unsettling smile returned. “Ah, Mr. Jack Kelly. Suspended for fighting and encouraging delinquent behavior,” he began to pace around the room, and Jack had a terrible look on his face. The principal stopped again and faced the boy. “If you’re planning on adding this to your record as well, I might as well have you expelled!”
“They was bullies!” Jack yelled. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Them stupid brothers, beating up on… on–“ Jack shook the thought out of his head and looked back up at Mr. Pulitzer. “They was bullies,” he repeated, “and you ain’t no better.”
Everyone stood, shocked, quiet. Mr. Pulitzer’s casually wicked smile was gone, now replaced with disgust and malice. He looked up at the rest of the students.
“Tell all your friends that the walkout is canceled,” he said. “Otherwise, you will suffer the consequences.”
Silence. Not a breath, heartbeat, or pin-drop.
Sarah stepped forward.
“Alright,” she said. All heads turned towards her, mouths agape. “We’ll do it.”
“Sarah–“ Davey started.
“No,” she interrupted. She turned around and faced all of her classmates, back to Pulitzer. “We’re going to college soon, and we don’t want this to be the thing that denies us our chance of getting into our dream schools.” Sarah stared at each kid, eyes wide and screaming what words could not. Go with it, they said, trust me. “Right guys?”
One by one, the students reluctantly nodded. Eventually, Mr. Pulitzer seemed satisfied.
“Alright, children. Out we go,” he said, holding the door open. The kids sluggishly gathered their things and walked out the door. Mr. Pulitzer made sure they all made it out the front gate, then let them go. As soon as they were all out, Sarah motioned for them all to gather ‘round.
“We’re not actually canceling this, are we?” Hannah asked.
“No, no, of course not,” Sarah replied. “I got a plan… though I don’t have all of it.”
“Well, let’s hear it, and we’ll fill in the rest,” Katherine said with a smile. Sarah smiled back.
“Alright, well here’s what I’m thinking…”
• • •
On Monday evening, after all the teachers had headed home, the gang met up at a side entrance to the school. At 5:00 pm, a janitor opened the door for the kids, right on schedule. They made their way to the yearbook room.
“Is he okay with this?” One of the boys asked. “Ain’t he gonna get fired if they catch him?”
“He put in his two-weeks’ notice eleven days ago,” Katherine said with confidence. “I heard my dad talking about it just last Sunday. Trust me, it’s nothing.”
They got to the room, flicked the lights on, and turned on one of the computers. Katherine stuck her flash drive in, opened up a document, and turned on the printer. “I’ll get these going,” she said, “Jack, you go get supplies for the banner from drama and bring them back here. When you’re back, we’ll let you know the setup plan.”
“Got it,” Jack said. He tipped his hat then ran out the door.
Katherine pulled up a map of the school on the computer and motioned for the group to gather around. She grabbed her pencil from behind her ear. “Okay, you all heard Mr. Pulitzer’s announcement yesterday, right?”
“Yeah, he said he’d suspend anyone that went to the walkout!”
Katherine took her pencil and pointed at the front gate on the map. “This is where we had the walkout planned before. So, Pulitzer’s probably going to have that area on watch to catch anyone that shows up. With administration’s attention over there, we’ll have the walkout over here.” She tapped on a space between two of the buildings. “Pulitzer’s office is in building one, right here. So, we take our walkout to this courtyard, right outside his window.”
“Wait, why would we do that? Won’t he suspend us?”
“Not if there’s enough of us,” Katherine said. “Think about it – if we get the whole school involved in this, what’s he going to do about it? Suspend ninety percent of the student population? I don’t think so.”
“But how’re we gonna tell people to go there if they look at our social media?”
“Then we don’t use social media,” Sarah stepped in. “That’s why I wrote this,” she motioned to the document that Katherine pulled up. “Fellow Students,” she read, “Mr. Pulitzer has denied us our right to stay safe, to speak up for ourselves, unaffiliated with the employees of this school. Our lives are in danger due to the apathy and selfishness of adults. We joke that school feels like a jail now, but wait until we build larger gates, hire more police officers, and have mandatory backpack searches every other week. We are not addressing the problem, we are hiding from it. That is why we urge you to join us, on March 14th at 10:00 am at the courtyard, to stand up for yourself and for your safety. If enough of us come, we surely can change this school for the better.”
There was a stunned silence, then a burst of applause.
“Whoa, that was really good!”
“With this, and Jack’s banner, and Katherine’s speech, we will surely win!” Hannah said. Everyone cheered again.
Katherine cracked her knuckles. “Alright,” she said, determined, “let’s get started.”
She began to print hundreds of the fliers. As they printed, Katherine grabbed a stack of about 20 sheets at a time and handed them to one of the runners, who took the fliers and shoved them in lockers all down the halls and taped them onto the insides of bathroom stalls. Eventually, Jack came back to the yearbook room, lugging a bucket of paint supplies in one hand and a huge roll of paper over his shoulder. He set it down, rolled out a long banner across the floor, and got to work. Katherine monitored the printer’s paper and ink levels, while a few members of the gang kept watch just in case an administrator was still at school. The rest of the team used poster boards from the classroom and Jack’s paint supplies to create picket signs for the walkout. For an hour they danced through this routine until the last of the runners came back saying they finished. Katherine printed at least five more per person to hand out the next day, and everyone gathered their things to leave. A parade of kids helped carry Jack’s still-wet banner out the door, while everyone else got the signs. Outside the school, they bid each other good luck, and went their separate ways, ready for tomorrow.
• • •
The walkout hardly followed the plan they’d drafted on Friday: just before ten, a plethora of students walked out of their class. That morning, everyone opened their locker to find Sarah’s flier on their books. Students whispered about it all morning, and word got around. At 9:55 am, all the student organizers made posts on social media en masse – enough time to warn any oblivious students, and not enough time for the administration to see and get a grip. The students congregated in the courtyard, where Jack had set up the mic and speakers, and where Katherine, Sarah, Hannah, Jack, Davey, Race, Romeo, Crutchie, Jojo, Smalls, Sniper, Albert, Henry, Specs, and so many others held the banner together. They faced the building at Mr. Pulitzer’s office.
Mr. Pulitzer and the administrators, deans, and counselors were stationed near the front gate, waiting to see if any foolish students would even try. A minute or so passed, and they seemed proud of themselves – until they heard the loud voice of one Jack Kelly coming from somewhere inside the school.
They ran inside. A teacher came running down the hall towards them. “M-Mr. Pulitzer! The students!”
“What about them? Where are they?” He demanded.
“Look out your window!”
Mr. Pulitzer rushed into his office, to the window, and raised the blinds. Outside in the courtyard, nearly the entire population of the school faced him – in front, the students held a large banner that donned big crimson letters that read: We Will Find A Way.
Mr. Pulitzer’s attention then whipped to the gate surrounding the school – uninterested kids were using this event as a chance to hop the fence and leave school! He spun around in his office and faced the administration that gawked out the window behind him.
“Go catch those students!”
As a herd of deans ran out the office, Mr. Pulitzer looked back out the window.
At this point in their schedule, they were meant to have an introductory speech and list the names of the victims, but now, with their change of plans, the students stood, heads held high, and chanted. The minutes dragged on, and Mr. Pulitzer stared at the kids in disbelief, leaning heavily on the windowsill. The kids chanted, and chanted, and chanted.
After a while, Jack spoke into the microphone. “Okay, alright, looks like the old man’s getting tired of this. We don’t blame ya, Joe. That is why I’m handing the mic over to Katherine, here, to deliver a speech.” The sea of students clapped and cheered, and Katherine nervously took the microphone from Jack.
“Thank you, thank you,” she said. The cheers eventually quieted down, and Katherine looked between the crowd of students and her father in the window. She took a deep breath, unfolded her speech, and began to speak.
Still. That’s the best description of the air as Katherine spoke. Still. The students were quiet, the wind died down, and the only things that existed in that moment were Katherine’s words. She started off slow, and a bit quiet, but as she went on, her voice grew stronger and more confident. Passion, heart, anger, and hope lay behind her words. Her voice turned to spears, spears that struck the hearts and heads of the students that listened, that changed the very atmosphere of their school.
When she finished, the silence exploded into noise – cheers, claps, shouts, whistling; all sorts of noise exploded into the blank canvas of silence, engulfing Katherine in their ecstasy. She smiled, she smiled so wide, and spoke her thanks into the microphone. She looked over her shoulder, at her father in the window, and saw his expression – softer, thoughtful, almost… proud? Katherine grinned and turned back towards the students.
“Now, I would like to ask all of you for a moment of silence, to honor and remember the seventeen victims that died last month.” She said. The noise once again dialed down, and the canvas was wiped clean again.
Silence. Not a breath, heartbeat, or pin-drop.
Sadness, and fear. That was what everyone felt in that minute of silence. One day they were teenagers, trying to live the best years of their life, trying to get into school, trying to ignore the shitty world around them and enjoy themselves for as long as possible. Then, one day, the shitty world came to them, and they were forced to do something now. They were forced to stand up now. They were forced to open their eyes and accept the shitty world for how it is, and told not to do anything about it. Well, now they’re tired, tired of the shitty world being thrown in their face. It’s about time they do something about it.
The minute lasted a lifetime. Katherine’s voice into the microphone, thanking them for the time, was forced and unnatural. It was an awkward break to the silence that pulled them together.
But then, their voices began to rise. They once again chanted, demanding their voices to be heard because no one would listen to them otherwise. Together, their voices sang as one. Their hearts beat as one.
Mr. Pulitzer stood, one versus one.
Even as the clock ticked past 10:17, the students continued to stand. The teachers couldn’t do jack shit about it, and they didn’t try – they were shocked, dumbfounded, completely thrown off by the entire event. The students continued to chant, angry voices and signs demanded Pulitzer do something.
“Mr. Pulitzer, you have to do something!” One of the administrators said. Mr. Pulitzer slowly nodded, then motioned for the cluster of staff around him to back up. He opened the window and Katherine approached him.
“Katherine, dear, hand me the microphone, please.”
Katherine looked back at the students, then to her father, and hesitantly gave it to him. He cleared his throat, then spoke. He addressed the students; the hardworking, determined, stubborn students. He addressed their dedication, bravery, and possibly even stupidity to do what they did just now. But – he said – he had a change of mind. Seeing this, and hearing his daughter’s speech, he reconsidered the situation. He announced that he would not suspend all of them, for he had no means to do so, but they still had to make up their class time at some point since it was not a school-organized event. Overall, he was fair, but still remained the same old man that he was known to be.
“With Katherine’s words, I’ve changed my mind,” he said. He gave his daughter a small smile. “Not completely, but… enough.”
The students erupted into cheers. After the chaos died down, and the event adjourned, students were herded back to their classrooms. Even though they had to go back to class, and didn’t exactly do anything impactful or whatever, Katherine’s riveting speech still lingered in their minds. Her last words grabbed their hearts, touched their minds, and took them all by the hands and led them to the starting line.
We are the generation that inherits the future. What will you do to protect it?
#dontlistento me#girlsiesweek18#katherine plumber#katherine pulitzer#sarah jacobs#modern au#newsies modern au#high school au#national walkout 2018#jack kelly#hannah newsies
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Oathbringer Liveblog, Part Two, Chapter 57
Onward, while I’m at work (which involves a lot of telescope-babysitting). Also, I’m starting to think you should just punch any kindly old man you find in a Brandon Sanderson book, just to be safe.
Due to my spontaneous surprise-quit of the last one, this one is very short--we talk with an old guy, Dalinar sees a Shard, and a meal heist is clearly being planned on an unsuspecting Dad. Also, Part Two is done!
So, picking up from that cliffhanger we left off on,
Odium. Dalinar scrambled to his feet, lurching backwards and seeking a weapon he didn’t possess.
Kelsier voice: JUST PUNCH HIM, YOUR FISTS ARE A WEAPON.
Anyway, Stormfather isn’t talking, which isn’t good, but he’s whimpering, which is even worse--reminds me of how Preservation, when Kelsier was talking with Ruin, just hid. Dalinar can you go hug the Stormfather I think he needs a hug.
I mean, obviously you have more pressing issues at the moment, but when you’re done with those. Anyway, Odium sits down and gestures for Dalinar to sit beside him as though this is a normal conversation and not, like, talking to the literal god of hatred.
Side note--he looks Shin in skin tone and eye shape. Meaning he’s white. Y’all, the personification of Hatred is an old white man, not that we needed confirmation of that.
“You have been placed in a difficult position, my son,” Odium said. “You are the first to bond the Stormfather in his current state. Did you know that? You are deeply connected to the remnants of a god.” “Whom you killed.” “Yes. I’ll kill the other one too, eventually. She’s hidden herself somewhere, and I’m too...shackled.”
First of all, you don’t get to call Dalinar “son.” Second of all, keep your filthy fucking murderhands away from Cultivation.
“Me, Honor, Cultivation. You speak of her, don’t you?” “I suppose,” Dalinar said. “Some people identify her with Roshar, the spren of the world itself.” “She’d like that,” Odium said. “I wish I could simply let her have this place.” “So do it. Leave us alone. Go away.”
I fucking love how blunt Dalinar is here. Anyway, Odium asks if that--coming from Dalinar, who holds the remnants of Honor’s power--is an offer to release him from his bonds. Dalinar quickly backtracks. Dammit, Rayse is fucking smart. Dalinar asks what would happen if he did release Odium, and he says first he’ll kill Cultivation, then there would be “other consequences,” meaning probably the death of more Shards.
Odium is justifying his killing of shards with the logic Dalinar used to take the throne from “poor Elhokar.” Taking control for the greater good. While this is happening, by the way, people are murdering each other all around them. It’s a very macabre moment. Odium says that as a man cannot serve two gods at once, he needs to kill Cultivation.
...I’m pretty sure someone can serve more than one god. I think this translates, more, to the fact that Odium doesn’t want to share power with anyone else. He’s arguing that he should be seen as the representation of Passion, not just of Hatred. He claims that Honor only cared about whether bonds were kept, not the reasons behind them, and that Cultivation only cares about growth, uncaring of the cost. He says that he’s the only one who cares about people, and he seems to think he’s the only one who has retained that connection to humanity.
Does he know that Odium the Shard itself is warping his thoughts? Or does he just not care? Or does he think it’s for the better? All of the Shards see themselves as the best good for mankind. Ruin thought his destruction was beautiful. Odium is not a trustworthy source--neither is Preservation, neither is Endowment, and Harmony is going to go that way too, although he’s had less time. Sure, some of these ended up being better for human interests, but they all thought they were doing the right thing.
Odium mentions that Dalinar has seen Cultivation, but that she robbed him of that memory--basically confirming the Nightwalker=Cultivation theories. Hm. If Cultivation makes people grow, perhaps she took Dalinar’s memories so he could grow beyond them and not be crippled by grief? it seems to fit her motivations.
“I need not take on such a risk, for I know, Dalinar Kholin, that you will make the right decision. You will free me.” “No,” Dalinar stood. “You shouldn’t have revealed yourself, Odium. I once feared you, but it is easier to fear what you don’t understand. I’ve seen you now, and I can fight you.” “You’ve seen me, have you? Curious.”
You fucked up, Dalinar. Assuming that nice old grandpa is Odium is like Vin thinking the Reen-shadow is all of Ruin, when Ruin in reality is an eldritch ball of roiling black spikes of pure destructive force. Dalinar suddenly is standing on a speck that is all of Roshar, and he looks up to see a massive ball of roiling flame that deepens into violet-black.
This was something so terrible that it consumed light itself. It was hot. A radiance indescribable, intense heat and black fire, colored violet at the outside. Burning. Overwhelming. Power.
Yeeaaaah that’s more what Odium actually is. Anyway, Odium is still acting kindly, helping Dalinar up, giving him something to drink, but Dalinar can see that violet-black fire, behind his eyes. The Shard. But he startles, a moment, searches the rocks around them. Something startled Odium. Huh.
“That guy,” a girl’s voice said, “is creepy.”
LIFT!!! How the hell did she hide from Odium? She’s wearing nice clothes, this time. She says that next to that, Dalinar is nothing, says she’ll talk to Gawx, and then asks if they have good food in Urithiru. Dalinar says he’ll prepare some, Lift clarifies that she wants to know what he eats, and I can see where this is going a mile away. Dalinar, get ready for one of your meals to be stolen.
And...huh. That ends part two. I’m not surprised, but I wish I’d held out that last chapter a little longer instead of noping out the second Rayse decided to show up. This’ll just be a short one, I guess.
#oathbringer spoilers#stormlight archive liveblog#dalinar voice: unite them#shut the fuck up rayse#lift remains amazing
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platonic gonpika
SEND ME A SHIP OR CHARACTER AND I’LL TELL YOU WHAT SONG(S) I ASSOCIATE WITH THEM!
That’s @.@ a hard one! but let’s try!
Don’t Panic - Coldplay
Bones sinking like stones, All that we’ve fought forHomes, places we’ve grown, All of us are done forWe live in a beautiful world, Yeah we doOh all that I knowThere’s nothing here to run from, Cause here, Everybody here’s got somebody to lean on
Friend, Please - Twenty One Pilots
I feel for you, but when did you believe you were alone?You say that spiders crawled inside and made themselves a homeWhere light once wasPetrified of who you are and who you have becomeYou will hide from everyone, denying you need someoneTo exterminate your bonesFriend, please remove your hands from over your eyes for meI know you want to leave butFriend, please don’t take your life away from me(…) Would you let me know your plans tonight?‘Cause I just won’t let go ‘til we both see the lightAnd I have nothing else left to sayBut I will listen to you all day, yes I will
Alone Together - Fall Out Boy
Cut me off, I lost my track, It’s not my fault, I’m a maniacIt’s not funny anymore, no it’s notMy heart is like a stallion, they love it more when it’s brokenDo you wanna feel beautiful, do you wanna, yeahI’m outside the door, invite me in, So we can go back and play pretendI’m on deck, yeah I’m up nextTonight I’m high as a private jet‘Cause I don’t know where you’re going,But do you got room for one more troubled soul?I don’t know where I’m going, but I don’t think I’m coming homeAnd I said, I’ll check in tomorrow if I don’t wake up deadThis is the road to ruin and we’re starting at the end
Thousands Enemies - Girl Dead Monsters (translation)
Spending time with you when you’re in a bad moodThere’s one thing I’ve found outYou’re just pretending while fighting franticallyLike a block of ice don’t ever changeEven in the heat of the summer sun stay with me and don’t melt away(…)There’s one thing I’ve found outI’ve been postponing what I have to do and doing only the things that I wantWe eat and prepare for battle, I want to hold onto this steel will foreverNothing can penetrate itI’m sure that even now I’m standing firm under its protectionThere are countless paths to takeThere are enemies waiting for me; they’re waiting for you tooWhen I’m lost I want you to show me the heart’s mapIf you do that I’ll understand where I am right awayI won’t understand just by myself
Nearly Morning - Luke Sital Singh
No one understands you’re on your ownYou’re not the only one who seems aloneWe know the feeling, just believe meIt’s nearly morning, Any second nowIt hurts, It really hurts It’s in your bloodTo give yourself away For nothing muchWhen no one understands you’re breaking groundYou’re not the only one who can’t be found As sure as the night will cover your eyesAs sure as the voices telling you liesCounting the days that never arrive, any second nowAs sure as the stones that slow you feet downAs sure as the circles turning you roundAs sure as the piece that never got found, Any second nowAll of the time you thought you got close, How hard it is to love those old ghostsYou get the least but you give up the most, Any second now
Middle of June - Noah Gundersen
Time is a cold wind blowing through the leaves Of a tired old tree that I sit beneath Where I think about the world and I don’t know how What will happen to us now? And peace is a ladder up to the clouds That I’m wishing I could climb but I don’t know how (…)And we come and we go, All the saints and the liars, sittin’ by the fireWhat will happen to us now?And hatred is a sharp knife held by the bladeIt’s cutting in your palm ‘til you feel no painAnd burning in your eyes with a righteous rage‘Til the ashes blow awayAnd love is a thing that you can’t defineThough you try with all your might through the riddles and rhymesBut it’ll fly you like a kite; it’ll throw you to the groundBut that’s the best thing I have found. And it comes and it goes, Where it’s headed, no one knowsAnd we come and we go, Like the winter and the springLosing everything just to gain it back again
(^I know it says love but or the sake of it i’ll interpret it as platonic love, since otherwise I find it… surprisingly fitting)
I was actually scared about this one but I think it’s a good list :O Hope you like it!!
Take care jkdfhdfjk
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PROMPT #3 - 12.20.16 - TIME Oh how I wish I had a watch. I wish I was human to measure a lifetime. I wish I was human to one day say goodbye. Sometimes I wish I could love. What is there to love? There is nothing. I’ve known this place for far too long. I’ve lived a curse that is a mere dream to most. I’ve seen everything and nothing at all. I am the all knowing but most confused. My thoughts intertwine into webs of chords, a kaleidoscope of every power and time this place has given for my old eyes to see. It burns my eyes to think, twisting and turning and screaming into the web of knot caught in my throat where I have no voice, my eyes forced to remember what they've watched to cause this torment. It hurts to walk, every step a thousand thorns gauging my feet until they were skinned and raw. Every breath out of the lungs that breathed a million atmospheres burns with fire. There is nothing enough to live for. There is nothing enough for me to behold in my hands like a newborn child. There is nothing enough for me to strain this worn body, where my skin doesn’t feel fit around my broken limbs any more. There is nothing enough to call out my sewed lips and clawed throat to a timeless heaven. I wretched. Spelling the name makes my muscles tighten, stretching the skin and feeling teary at the raw. Heaven. It made my black eyesight pump shadows around my brain like electrical currents, clouding me and directing my frail body. Heat drumming in my stomach, pounding hypnotically in my brain. I never felt so much emotion surge through my veins from the only one I felt left. Hatred was coursing, the only feeling that was marrow to my body. Heaven, the land of dream. A soft bliss of your heart’s desire. It scavenges your body for what’s left of your soul, harrowing your thoughts and clogged your arteries with gold. Heaven, the land of blessings, the land of perfection. Heaven’s rivers is the blood of your body. The corpse that vesseled an opportunity. Everyone lives to die so they can live forever. It mocks me. It is my villain. I sacrificed my body to live. I sacrificed the weight of time to live this place. I’ve seen universes. I’ve seen the masterpiece of time, painted across time and time again, being birthed at every moment. I’ve seen the matter worth living across stars and light-years. I’ve seen the fires of hellish stars and the shadows of barren wastelands. I’ve seen destruction, universes being obliterated into dust to burn the back of my throat. I’ve stared into the eyes of nothing, blackholes transfixing all light, my home, where time is nothing. Destroying entire galaxies with a single broken hand of a clock. I’ve seen worlds so illuminating, so incredible, so massive, so unexplainable of a dream that it’s a nightmare. I’ve seen emotions, emotions hanging from cherry trees and silence, a mere wind and hush where your mind is so enlightened that the vibrations of mere life hum melodies into eerie choirs that your body draws tears of simply being. I’ve seen emotions from words and voices, any and all of them resonate in my ears forever, translating into meanings of its own upheaval. I’ve seen emotions from faces, faces that dance in formations to express those emotions, those feelings of life. And I’ve seen wars. Screams contaminate the skies, echoing on the silence of death. I’ve seen blood paint sliced faces of shock, hands of gods and devils ripping the muscle and skin of cheeks to pulp of a dead emotion where those feelings will never dance on their face again. I’ve seen putrid anger hang in the air, soaking into the pores of power and greed. I’ve seen cages, shackles so tight the wrists wire into a noose of smoothie-ed meat. I’ve seen the hands of heroes, so calloused and old that it’s skin is worn by rulers and villains as leather. I’ve seen burning rocks destroy dystopias that ring with memories of forever, ancient time that blows in the wind like ashes of paper. The rain of flames was the only vibrancy, the only light the civilization’s seen in millennium. It was like watching a son die, the last remnants of a memory of eternal time being washed away. I’ve seen forever. I’ve seen universes among universes, universes in black holes and 4th dimensions. I’ve seen electrons orbiting atoms, planets orbiting suns. I’ve seen entire universes as mere atoms inside other universes. I’ve seen the birth of universes and the destruction of them, cycles of eternity and universes of infinity that break the laws of time and reality; the base of any faith of existence. I’m Immortal, and I’ve lived forever. I was never born, and I will never die. Heaven is my eternal enemy, the bane of everything I’ve lived for. Heaven is what killed immortals, taking their souls to coax into bliss, plucking them out of the universe. Life that could’ve lived has died to bask in the baths of euphoria and ecstasy forever, their souls decaying with their bodies into mindless drones of worship to their own desire. Heaven is a liar. Heaven laughs in the face of my life and journeys, my being. Heaven is a god that doesn’t even exist - but yet, it does. It’s power is so strong that it’s very essence is present in the universe as something real, something that can’t be seen unless it’s achieved, unless it wins your body. Sometimes I wish I was human to one day lay down to rest. Sometimes I wish my body could be clawed and dissolved into ashes of death. Sometimes I wish I could love to feel the dances on my face that would die with me to reassure my soul. But heaven shows me why not to. Heaven shows me to cling onto the only place I have left, and not be drawn into the hands of timeless heaven. Heaven shows me to rise above it, to fight it. To destroy heaven. . . . Sometimes I wish I had a watch. To feel the dances on my face as it cracks, its means of time dead in my hands as if it were to crumble into a blackhole; freeing me from its coax of death. I can fight for this body once more. ♔ **AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm so proud of this prompt. It's basically about this old, immortal man who wishes he were human so he could die. But his enemy, which is Heaven, helps him remember why living is so much better than the coaxed desire of death. I imagined heaven in this story to be personified which I think is really cool. So like, heaven is actually a godlike villain that tricks humans to give up the will to live o they can achieve the ultimate enlightenment which they believe is heaven. So basically all humans in this premise of the story (or as a theory in real life, could be man) are actually immortal, but die from either a bodily cause or for the subconscious lost of the will to live. Anyways I'll hopefully expand on this concept more in the future, but for now I'm satisfied with this :) **UPDATE: More in depth explanation of this prompt. >>> [ https://plus.google.com/u/0/102260458693520884929/posts/YBQpqNNRcB1 ]Show less
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