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where-theres-smoak-2 · 3 years

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The Bonesmith, Baghra and Aleksander

So here’s the next instalment of I noticed something interesting during my rewatch of S&B that nobody else likely cares about but well I’m sharing it with you all anyway. Also there are some book spoilers in here so tread careful if you haven't read them and don’t want to be spoilt.

So whilst rewatching ep 3 I caught onto something the Apparat said that I thought was kind of interesting about the Bonesmith, something that I think can tell us alot about Aleksander and Baghra’s relationship but also Baghra’s motivations for separating darklina in episode 5.

Anyone who has read the books will know that the Bonesmith is actually Ilya Morozova who is Aleksander’s grandfather. He was one of the first grisha and a very powerful fabrikator who created the amplifiers. What I thought was interesting was that the Apparat explains why the Bonesmith created the amplifiers in the first place which I don’t believe this is explained in the books but correct me if I am wrong as I am only half way through the third book. The apparat says ‘He (the bonesmith) knew that the grisha would always be prosecuted and so he worked on a plan to magnify their power.’ This obviously suggests that Ilya Morozova saw the grisha’s suffering and wanted to do something about it, in fact he becomes obsessed with it, with creating the amplifiers. I can’t help but wonder if this is why Aleksander is so convinced that its Morozova’s amplifiers that will help make grisha safe. Why he is so obsessed with them and finding them because he knows that protecting the grisha is exactly what they were made for in the first place.

It could also explain why Baghra is so against Aleksander finding them and his obsession with them, also why she is so against Aleksander wanting to help the grisha and why she has much more of a just leave them to it you’re more important anyway, kind of attitude about the grisha’s plight. Her father’s obsession with the amplifiers is what lead to Baghra feeling so isolated in her childhood and also what lead to her family being torn apart. Baghra’s story is just as tragic as Aleksander’s and has some eerie similarities. She grew up feeling ignored and neglected by both her parents, her father was too obsessed with creating the amplifiers to pay his family much attention and her mother was so afraid of Baghra’s powers that she kept her distance and paid alot more attention to Baghra’s younger sister. Until one day her sister broke one of her toys and in anger and jealousy Baghra lashed out with the cut and killed her sister. Her father was able to use his fabrikator abilities and merzost to bring her sister back from the dead. The villagers upon seeing this miracle decided to chain up her father and sister and throw them both into the river to drown. Baghra and her mother flee but her mother was too traumatised by the events to keep going and in the end Baghra abandons her in the woods out of desperation to survive and finds her way to a farm. The people there took her in and put out a search party for her mother but they never found her and it is assumed she starved to death in the woods. Even with her feeling neglected by her family this is still a very traumatic thing for Baghra to go through and it all happens when she is a young girl. Unfortunately I do believe she passed her trauma onto her son and in the end she ends up becoming the neglectful parent herself and makes her son feel as isolated and alone as she did growing up. Also don’t know how relevant it is but both Aleksander and Baghra used the cut for the first time as a child and in both instances it was against another child/ children which you know tragic, just loads of tragedy in the lives of the Morozovas.

I really do think that alot of the reason why Baghra acts against Aleksander so much in his pursuit of saving the grisha is because of her experiences with her father. In episode 7 when Aleksander talks about using merzost to create an army to protect the grisha from the old king just like Morozova used merzost to create, Baghra tells him he’ll die just like Morozova did. This is obviously something she fears. If you look at it from her perspective at this time she was watching her son being hunted by the king, a king who wanted her son dead because he was afraid of how powerful Aleksander’s powers were. This is very similar to what happened to her father, the people feared his power and they killed him for it. In R&R she tells Alina ‘Ravka was different then. Grisha had no sanctuary. Power like ours ended in fates like my father’s.’ Whilst Baghra was often cold towards Aleksander I do think she loves him and he is the most important thing to her so seeing her son seeming to follow in her father’s footsteps terrifies her and so she decides to do everything in her power to stop him.

However this just drives a wedge further between them. Protecting grisha is something that Aleksander cares deeply about. Whilst Aleksander might be the most important thing to Baghra, the grisha are the most important to Aleks. And Aleksander believes two things, that the answer to protecting the grisha lies in Morozova’s amplifiers and Alina. They together are the key. I do find it very interesting that Morozova’s and Aleksander’s goals were very similar, they both want to make things better for the Grisha. They both also become obsessed with this goal and the amplifiers as a solution. Aleksander has that added level of obsession with the sun summoner, maybe he believes this was the missing piece to the amplifiers, the amplifiers have been created and now they need someone to wear them, the sun summoner. I think Aleksander sees him being the one to find the amplifiers and along with the sun summoner using them to protect the grisha as a way of completing his grandfather’s work. Also its worth noting that Aleksander never knew his grandfather who died before he was born and he also never knew his own father, his mother never even tells Aleks his father’s name the only thing that is known about him is that he was a powerful heartrender. From reading Demon in the Woods its obvious that Aleks feels this void of his absent father. He never really has a father figure in his life. Back then sons would often following in their father’s footsteps, would go into their father’s trade, inherit their farm, or blacksmith shop etc. Those same trades were likely the trades of those boys’ grandfathers as well and so those boys grow up to continue on the family legacy. But Aleks has no trade or skill to inherit because he has no father. That is until he learns of his grandfather's plans. I think Aleksander sees his search for the amplifiers and making sure they are used for what they were intended to be used for as him kind of going into the family trade. Its a weak link but it is still a link to a male family figure and that makes him feel more like the other boys he grows up around. As isolated as he is from them, as different as he is from them, in this way he is the same because he too is continuing his family’s legacy. Also slight side note here but another thing I noticed that I thought was quite telling is that there are two grisha that Aleks seems to respect and admire for their skills and who he kind of defends against others, Ivan and David. When he senses disdain from Alina towards Ivan he makes that joke about how he is actually quite funny when you get to know him, essentially defending him and it is obvious that Ivan is Aleksander’s righthand man and that Aleks has alot of respect for him. Also when David says he can track Alina using the ring, Aleks says he’s proving the many uses of a durast. More so in the books than the show but the other grisha do consider fabrikators to be somewhat useless and the weakest of the grisha a view that Aleksander doesn’t seem to share. What I find interesting about this is that the two grisha he seems to admire (outside of Alina obviously) are a heartrender and a fabrikator the two ‘trades’ of his father and grandfather.

But I also think Aleksander has some complicated feelings about his grandfather. I do think he admires Morozova but I think a little part of him also resents being his descendant. I said in my Darkling Analysis post that when Aleks was talking at the fountain about being the descendant of the most hated grisha in all of Ravka he might not have been outright lying to Alina. That he might have been talking about someone else not the black heretic (obviously because he is the black heretic). At the time I wrote that analysis I hadn’t read the books but now that I have I think I might have been on to something. I think in that moment he was talking about his grandfather who before the black heretic was the most hated and feared grisha in all of Ravka. It’s because of this and because of the nature of their powers that Baghra forces Aleks to hide his true identity to the point where he begins to worry he’ll forget his own name. I can well believe that as a boy he would run away and hide there and throw a coin to wish he could be anyone else, someone who wasn’t Ilya Morozova’s grandson, someone who didn’t need to hide all the time and could just be a normal boy.

Next I want to talk about episode 5 and Baghra’s motivations for separating Aleks and Alina. As I’ve mentioned above I really do think that Aleks believes Alina is the key to the amplifiers and that they were meant for her. I also think that Baghra knows this too. But I also think the books can give as another clue into her motivations. In S&S when Alina meets Baghra again Baghra is very angry with Alina because instead of running and getting on the ship Baghra organised for her, Alina went after the stag and got caught and collared. Obviously in the show it happens slightly different and the thing that Alina does differently is running on her own instead of waiting in the store room for others like Baghra told her too, but its still the same idea of Alina not following Baghra’s plan. But the reason why she is angry is because she feels like because of Alina he has lost his humanity. In the books Baghra explains her actions by saying:

Baghra pounded the floor with her stick. “I wanted to keep him from becoming a monster! It’s too late for that now, isn’t it? Thanks to you, he is further from human than he’s ever been. He’s long past any redemption.”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But Ravka isn’t beyond saving.”

“What do I care what happens to this wretched country? Is the world so very fine that you think it worth saving?”

Baghra’s goal was to stop her son from becoming a monster and I again think this stems from what the villagers did to her father and just the attitude others, including other grisha, have had towards her and her son because of their powers. The villagers saw her father as a monster because of the power he possessed and how he was able to bring his child back from the dead. Pretty much everyone saw her and her son as monsters because of their powers, including Baghra’s own mother. I do think because of her trauma she has come to associate being a monster with their powers or having alot of power. Also the passage above shows that she doesn’t really care about Ravka so that’s not what is driving her. I think she has been let down and mistreated so many times by the people of Ravka, both otkazat'sya and grisha alike, that she has the attitude of they never helped me so why should I want to save them. I think her experiences have made her very angry at the world and so she doesn’t think it is worth saving. So in episode 5 when she says that they cannot let Aleksander obtain that kind of power I don’t think its because she is worried what it will mean for the world. It’s because she fears two things, one that if he obtains that power people will become more afraid of him and want to kill him like the old king did in the past and like the villagers did with her father. The other fear is the one she talks about above, she’s afraid he’ll become a monster and that he will lose his humanity. I think she fears this because on some level she feels like that’s what happened to her. That she became so detached and angry at the world that she stopped caring about anything but Aleksander. I mean she has done some monstrous things in her life, for example in Demon in the Woods she helps slaughter an entire village of innocent people including woman and children because she wants to protect her son. I think she knows how good intentions can lead you down a dark path and she doesn’t want that to happen to her son. Ironically I would actually argue that its her interference in separating Alina and Aleks that helps push him down that path.

We know that Baghra thinks its Alina that is pushing Aleks further from humanity and I can’t help but wonder why she would think this. I mean in my opinion Alina is what pulls him back to his humanity and I’m pretty sure this is book canon too. I haven’t read it but I’ve seen this quote from ROW going around “Why did you go to her?" Because with her he was human again.’ I think the reason why Baghra thinks Alina will push Aleks away from his humanity partly stems back to this idea Aleks has of using the sun summoner and the amplifiers together to expand the fold in an attempt to keep grisha safe. I think she fears that Aleks will keep doing more and more monstrous things in an attempt to reach his goal because she knows that teaching him that he was the most important and the only one that matters and by teaching him to stay isolated and separated by society she has made him less caring, less empathetic and therefore less human. She also knows that Aleks believes the sun summoner is the key so she thinks without Alina he can’t go through with his plans and so she attempts to remove Alina from the equation by convincing her to run.

Obviously Baghra’s version of how and why the fold was created is very different than what happened and I think the reason why is because she knows that Alina cares about Aleks and so in order to convince her to leave him she decides to try and scare her in to it. If she tells Alina that Aleks accidently created the fold whilst grieving for his lost love and trying to protect his people who are being hunted and killed and now he wants to expand the fold because he thinks that will scare their enemies into not killing and torturing grisha, well it might not be enough to get Alina to leave. Alina might decide that Aleks’ aim is a sympathetic one and that there is still enough humanity in him to try and save him. Instead she tells Alina that her son is a power hungry monster who created the fold for his own gain, who is going to enslave her and expand the fold, who doesn’t care about Alina at all and who has spent an eternity manipulating girls to his scandalous whims and dark desires. The image she paints of Aleksander is much more frightening and plays into all of Alina’s fears and insecurities. Look I really hated that Baghra did this but I also think it is important to remember that Baghra really does believe that she is protecting and saving her son. I don’t think she’s doing it out of maliciousness or because she wants her son to fail and doesn’t want him to be happy. She just believes because of her own experiences that if he continues the path he’s is taking then the world will turn against him again and he’ll be brutally killed. She knows that Alina is a powerful weapon and so to her the logical step in preventing her son from going down this path is to take Alina away from him.

As to whether Baghra knew how much Aleks cared about Alina before she intervened, I’m not sure. I’m in two minds on it to be honest because a part of me thinks she was really convincing when she told Alina that Aleks was manipulating her and had done so with other woman in the past, which makes me think maybe she really did think Aleks was just manipulating Alina and was only interested in her for her power. But then on the other hand during their conversation in episode 5 when Aleksander says that Alina is all that matters now and that she is the one, Baghra doesn’t seem surprised by this which would suggest that she knows that Aleks’ feelings run deeper. I will say that even if she did know that Aleks cared deeply for Alina, I mean personally I think it was pretty obvious that by the time of the winter fete he’s head over heels in love with her, it wouldn’t have mattered a great deal in regards to her plan. In fact I think it might even have made her even more determined to separate them and I think this is because of Luda. As mentioned above Baghra fears her son will lose his humanity and become a monster. Aleks loved Luda very much and it was losing her that was the catalyst, or part of it, that lead to the creation of the fold. Therefore I think Baghra would consider Aleks loving anyone a danger. It’s all very good and well her son knowing the delights of love but what if he loses that person? What monstrous thing will he create next? Baghra has always believed that keeping her son isolated and hidden is what will keep him safe which is why she tells him to run and hide and get a new name in the flashback in episode 7. Just as protecting the grisha is what drives Aleks, protecting Aleksander is what drives Baghra.

So yeah that’s my I've thought waay too much into this analysis of the Morozova family and its effect on why darklina were torn asunder. At least until the next instalment of ooh that’s interesting I never spotted that before.

#the darkling #baghra morozova #aleksander morozova #darklina

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writing-fool · 4 years

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mlqc | let’s hit rewind

What kind of videos would the MLQC guys make if they were YouTubers? I think this is a youtube!au, but to be fair, Kiro probably has a YouTube channel in canon. See it as you will? I won’t really talk about their life outside of YT/internet so you can decide for yourself whether this is an AU or not, and whether they’re a full-time YouTuber or not.

As always, enjoy, and requests are open!

Love,

Warning(s): none

Victor

Victor probably has a cooking channel

scratch that. he absolutely starts as one of those Aesthetic™ cooking channels like Cooking tree, HANSE, Sweet The MI or Nino’s Home.

his channel is called Souvenir because he’s not THAT original you can’t expect everything from a man, people.

he starts off doing these voiceless cooking videos, but after a voice and face reveal at 2 million followers where he cooks something for his followers as a thanks...well, who wouldn’t want more of that sultry voice and glorious face

currently has about 4 million subscribers

Victor’s channel is kind of comparable to Junskitchen, a rather relaxed, casual atmosphere combined with exquisite, refined cuisine

if he feels like it, he does a voice-over, otherwise he just puts calm jazz, blues or r&b over his cooking

HAS done an ASMR special. low-key dislikes the video because he has to whisper voice-overs but people LOVE it

likes making all kinds of foods, but his channel features quite a lot of sweet foods and desserts because a certain dummy has a sweet tooth

a pretty popular feature during quarantine is Cooking w/ Sou, essentially a live stream where Sou (aka Victor) cooks a whole three-course meal while talking to and instructing his followers

his subscribers notice that he doesn’t really need editing to look clean during cooking because his technique is IMMACULATE

by the end, he’s made a themed dinner for two...which always raises a question mark

is Sou single? does he have a roommate? a girlfriend? a kid? WHAT?

after getting your explicit permission, Victor addresses the situation in one of his recent Q&As

“Why do I always make dinner for two? I have a fiancée, she edits my videos in her spare time. She works as a producer. *you wave your hand over the lens* Dummy.” he breezes over it like it’s no big deal even though he’s a tad nervous about exposing something personal like this

his fans blow up the internet, baffled but not entirely surprised that someone like Sou isn’t a bachelor

of course, some leave hate under the video honestly, people who do this to celebs who start dating are HORRIBLE

most subscribers are super supportive of your relationship and thank you for the editing that makes Souvenir such a well put-together channel...also did he seriously call his fiancée a dummy? such a tsundere!

sometimes, you’ll (well, your hands...we’re keeping a bit of privacy here) even be in the end shot of videos, munching away at the carefully plated food

one day, Sou will be making a video titled Wedding Cake.

Lucien

Lucien’s channel LucidLight is a tad bit all over the place

he’s a man of many talents, and his channel reflects just that

i’m not saying it’s a disorganized channel, because the theme is very much there - the uniform theme in Luci’s content is a cozy background, a cup of tea and a soothing thumbnail

i mean that content-wise, his subscribers don’t really know what they’re going to get next...he has a slightly similar style to the YouTuber simon plant

his content varies from interesting science theories to poetry reading sessions to ASMR to painting/sketching to cooking and much, much more

he has an heavenly soothing, smooth voice. it’s his trademark since Lucien doesn’t show his face on camera. ever.

doesn’t have a TON of subs, because his channel is a bit of a niche thing, but I’d say he has 1,2 million subscribers and 400k followers on his added ‘business’ Instagram

he holds a lot of live streams on Instagram/YouTube (i know Moments exists in the game, but that’s more like a Facebook or Twitter kind of app...) and is always shown with just his torso and neck in frame. the lives usually include some poetry reading and generally just having a nice, relaxing chat with his followers. they can last up to 5 hours at once, and YOU know it’s because he doesn’t need sleep like a normal human being, but his fans are still asking questions about his timezone

his subscribers are strangely fascinated by his mysterious, gentle nature and also incredibly obsessed with his large, elegant hands

his ASMR videos are often roleplays of Librarian Lucien or Professor Lucien explaining to people why their rest is important

other times, they include soft affirmations, positive whispers, finger fluttering, hair touching and maybe kissing sounds...

Lucien paints a lot too, although he works primarily with ink and pencil sketches. you’ll find a watercolour or oil painting somewhere, but they’re not his most prominent media

his art videos are usually silent, although he might say something once in a while. there’s always some type of solo instrumental music playing in the background.

he does educational videos about biology and universe theories, but will also have reading sessions about scientific books

not intentionally secretive about your relationship, but he’s not one to mention it either

the first time you appeared on screen was when he was doing another live stream. he’s in his office talking about a play, when you come padding in to bid him goodnight.

“Yes, indeed. Laura’s glass menagerie, as the play suggests, is a symbol of fragility. Laura herself is very frail, but her favourite—”

“Good night, darling.” your soft voice rings through the room. viewers see Lucien’s torso turning a little bit, a hand on his shoulder and a curtain hair appearing from the top of the screen. his hand moves, presumably to cup the person’s cheek, before a soft kiss is heard through the mic. “Sleep tight, my love,” he murmurs.

“Ah. Laura’s favourite glass figurine is the unicorn, which...”

people are in uproar, but Lucien is a strong-willed man who refuses to explicitly announce the nature of his relationship.

his subscribers stop asking after a while, because it really isn’t any of their business, and they now know Lucien’s a taken man

you kind of appear on live streams accidentally a couple more times, but nothing’s really changed about Lucien’s content

the only thing he WILL say, and this is purely to give you credit, is “Ah. The background instrumentals in my art videos are played live. Yes, my lover’s very talented.”

you guys are the mysterious, talented, soft-voiced power couple of YouTube

Gavin

Gavin’s channel probably starts as a joint channel with you, something like Rachel and Jun

it’s relatively obvious from the start that Gavin from Birds&Cops is in a relationship, since you guys have a vlogging-style channel

your channel is filled with gym vlogs, travel vlogs to other countries and a lot of self-defence and sport at home videos.

you guys also post a lot of funny vlogs talking about your day, going on fun dates, of course food vlogs in restaurants, all that stuff...

you often sit down and talk about your life, and maybe you’ll even do a mukbang during it for someone so fit, Gavin does eat a lot of food.

Gavin’s channel didn’t blow up right away, because vlogging channels aren’t exactly unique, and he looks like the typical ‘straight boy with a girlfriend’

but he started gaining followers after people noticed how cute and blushy he acts, and how incredibly respectful and caring he is towards you

one of the most popular videos is Boyfriend Does My Makeup and it’s adorable. Gavin’s handling your face with so much care, and comments like “I know what this is, I’ve watched you do it many times.” or “Babe, does it hurt? Should I be more gentle? I’m sorry...my hands are rough.” make everyone SWOON

toxic masculinity left the chat. Gavin loves taking care of you in any way, whether it’s getting pads, chocolate and hot packs during your period or braiding your hair

in those yoga/celebrity fitness routine challenges, subs get to see Gavin in a tight singlet and sweatpants/shorts, and it’s HOLY

you’re very much aware of the attention Gavin receives from female fans, and how lucky you are to have found such a sweet partner

Gavin will usually see this type of comment while scrolling and will turn to you and go “Babe, you know I’m the lucky one here, right?”

anyways, a feature that you do to show fans the extent of Gavin’s sweet personality is Pranking My Boyfriend, where you set up the camera for a harmless prank like pretending to have a nightmare (similar to channels like Farina Jo)

that particular video was so fun to shoot, because it ended up with Gavin softly singing a lullaby to calm you down in his arms

“Baby, wake up. I’m here, you’re safe.” Gavin knows how to deal with panicking people, but he hates this prank afterwards because ‘he didn’t like seeing you in pain’

fans squealed. Birds&Cops gained like 50k subs through that video. the channel’s currently at 999k subscribers

overall, it’s just a really lovely, family-friendly channel

Kiro

Kiro knows his way around the web, alright?

not even just as Key, but he’s had a YouTube channel since the age of 15

his channel, CtrlAltChips is a hit with many people of many, many ages

he streams gaming sessions on Twitch and posts them on his YouTube channel afterwards

other content includes (primarily) covers & original songs, simple talking videos, thrifting & fashion videos, mukbangs and candid dance videos in a studio

think of chloe moriondo, doddleoddle, Victor the Drum Destroyer and Cat Strat

alternatively, for the ARMYs here, think of Jeon Jungkook as a YouTuber

Kiro has about 18 million subscribers, which is A LOT, but he’s been on YouTube for 7 years and he’s made a name for himself as a super likeable and bubbly guy with an angelic voice and killer moves

you’d think he’s just a cute boy when he sings acoustic covers, but his dance moves suggest that he’s not THAT cute

also how does he stay so fit with all those snack mukbangs?

he has a segment named In Our Kloset where he talks about social issues (because our boy uses his platform for good) around the world while customizing (not just pins. we’re talking patches, sewing, painting, embroidery) thrifted clothing to his liking. at the end he holds a little fashion show with his new outfits

after a while, you’ll see many of his outfits in giveaways or on sale for charity. Kiro tries to give back to his fans as much as he can, and how better than by sharing a piece of his unique clothing with them?

a great singer and performer. has held actual concerts before and has an actual music career (author-nim leaves it up to you readers to decide whether this is his idol career or some other musical project)

keeps his private life PRIVATE. he knows how the internet works, and he knows there’s no way he can keep your relationship a secret forever, but he’s not about to expose it to the world because of that reason

keeps tabs on information or rumours regarding you and makes them vanish

he’s simultaneously the most open and the most secretive out of the four boys. his fans know his favourite colour, what type of underwear he wears (trunks. Kiro wears trunks.), his birthday,...

but they know nothing about his past, his location, his close social circle or his family (teeechnically he’s an orphan but ig we’re talking about his mentor here. the blood of the covenant blah blah blah...y’know?). Kiro protects his loved ones fiercely

for someone who’s kept so secret, you’re actually really involved in Kiro’s virtual persona. you’re usually behind the camera during his In Our Kloset videos and are in charge of extra research regarding topics so he doesn’t spread any misinformation

you also give pointers during filming (of course, these bits are edited out) because Kiro tends to trail off and get distracted when sewing

another way you’re involved is setting up the food during mukbangs. you have a great sense of aesthetics, so all of his videos in general will go through you.

while you like being low-key in Kiro’s life, you don’t want him to feel like he has to protect you from all the hate.

he doesn’t particularly love keeping you a secret either, and it makes him feel guilty because he doesn’t want you to think he’s ashamed of you. he could never be.

you guys give it a good chat over how you’re going to announce it, and he just ends up making a video titled Miss Chips where the two of you sit down and talk to the camera

“Hello my little chips! Uhm, as you can see, there’s someone sitting next to me today. Maybe you already guessed from the title, but this is...my girlfriend, Miss Chips,” cue the cute jazz hands in your direction, “We’ve been dating for a long, loooong time, right, Miss Chips?”

“I just wanted to share this with you guys, since it felt wrong to keep such an important person in my life private. I hope you’re all kind to her, because I love her dearly, even to the point of giving up my snacks...so it’s serious.”

it really is that serious, hm?

Hope you enjoyed reading!

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ladymiseria · 4 years

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Smut Alphabet - Hawks

It’s big simpin’ hours for everyone’s favorite bird brain hawk man. Let’s do itttt

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

-Hawks will wrap you up in his arms and immediately cuddle the shit out of you. Lots of words of love and affirmation and reassurance and also kisses all over your face. He needs to make sure you feel safe and comfortable, especially if it was a particularly intense session.

In terms of what he needs/wants, it’s very similar. He wants to be held and cuddled and fawned over a bit, and he likes to be reassured, as well.

B = Body (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-ASS MAN. Hawks loves that BOOTY and he is not shy about it. He’s always touching it, smacking it, or even just ogling it. He loves slipping his hand in your back pocket when you’re out together and will never pass up an opportunity to fluster you in public by giving your ass a sly squeeze.

Honorable mention is thighs! God damn, he loves him some soft thighs in every way.

Hawks doesn’t spare much thought when it comes to his own body, except for, unsurprisingly, his wings: they are the key component of his image, after all. He takes a lot of pride in keeping them clean and smooth. They’re also incredibly sensitive, so he never lets anyone touch them besides himself and you, of course. In fact, if you play with his wings juuuuust right, he can get off from that alone.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

-He insists on coming inside (especially if he’s in rut), whether that means downstairs or in your mouth.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-Dom the shit out of this man and make him submit to you; he gets off to it super hard.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

-Hawks has always been popular and attractive so sexual encounters have never been difficult for him to come by (no pun intended). Rest assured that he very much knows what he’s doing. That said, he’s never had any kind of serious relationship before you, though.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

-Hawks is hitting that shit from behind every chance he gets: he needs easy access to that booty obviously

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

-Hawks loves to be goofy and cute and have fun with you in the moment. He can definitely be serious, too, but he loves teasing and getting to have some sweet, fun sexy times with you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

-Hawks keeps himself clean and trimmed up, especially now that he’s in a serious relationship. He also always makes it a point to wear the cologne you’d taken a liking to.

Random headcanon: Hawks smells like old leather and dark, warm musky cologne.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

-Hawks is super romantic! He loves just kissing and caressing every part of you, telling you how much you mean to him, how much he loves you, and how beautiful he thinks you are. He’s chosen you as his lifelong mate and he’ll never let you forget why.

Outside of the bedroom, Hawks still maintains the romance. He’s always got a hold on you when you’re out and adores taking you out to eat or on dates to different places. His more bird-like tendencies also mean that he’s constantly buying trinkets and shiny things for you as tokens of affection.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

-He doesn’t masturbate much anymore (it reminds him of a significantly lonelier time). He only really indulges if he has to be away from you for longer than usual or if he’s in rut (and you’re not available to help him out).

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

-Breeding, bondage, dom/sub, overstimulation, edging, light impact play, pegging, degradation AND praise, wing play (is that even a thing? It is now, I guess), snowballing, body worship

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

-Honestly? He’s not super picky. He’s just as happy to take you in his bed as he is to take you on the roof of a high-rise. He’s cocky and a bit of an exhibitionist, truth be told, so he doesn’t much care about getting caught.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

-Play with his wings, particularly near the base where they connect to his back. The small bit of skin between his wings is also incredibly sensitive.

If we’re being honest, it’s not the least bit difficult for you to seduce Hawks: you manage it without even trying a good amount of the time. That said, some foolproof methods are: making out, neck kisses, give him The Look (I’m sure you know what I mean).

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-Hawks is kinda selfish and possessive so he’s not really willing to share you with anyone else. He’s also not too keen on hurting you aside from the normal impact play/biting.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

-Hawks is so God damn good at oral. Like really fucking good. And he knows it and will weaponize that shit. He loves giving and how you squirm and moan and pull his hair and grab his wings: he’d eat you every day if you’d let him. He loves receiving, too, but giving is really where his horny little heart is.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

-Hawks doesn’t really have a default pace: it all depends on the situation and he’s exceptionally good at reading the room, so to speak. The only time he really loses control is during rut when his animal brain takes over and he needs to have you until his body literally gives out.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

- Not his go-to, but he can definitely get down with it if it works best for the situation (and with how easily worked up he gets).

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

-Hawks is an open-minded dude, so he’s down to try a lot of shit at least once, especially if you’re really gunning for it.

I touched on this a little earlier, but he’s also not really bothered by the thought of someone catching him messing around with you. It would just be an opportunity to show off, in his mind.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-Hawks can go for quite a few rounds (and don’t even think about when he’s in rut because HOO BOY THAT’S A WHOLE OTHER STORY). He’s the number 2 pro hero so you know his stamina’s top tier.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

-First off, I am firmly in the #peghawks2020 camp so you KNOW he’s gettin’ the strap on the reg.

Anyway, yeah, Hawks can get down with some toys. He actually likes to use his feathers as toys from time to time, too.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-He likes to tease, but not too much. Frankly, he’s just kind of impatient and gets too worked up himself from the teasing. You’re cute when you’re flustered, though, and he wouldn’t give up that sight for the world.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

-Boy can get LOUD when he’s really in the zone. Moans, growls, whimpers, it’s all on the menu. He’s also prone to making pleased little chirping noises or warbles when you give him affection, complete with some wing twitches for good measure.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

-I have many but I guess I’ll just pick my favorite: Hawks loves to dance with you. Doesn’t matter what kind, he just can’t get enough of watching your body move and feeling you against him. He can also feel the vibrations of the music in his feathers and it can be very stimulating.

Dancing also plays into the bird thing as male birds often “dance” in an attempt to seduce a mate, and Hawks is no different. Sometimes when he’s dancing with you, his wings will flap and puff out like he’s peacocking for you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-Hawks has been training his body since he was a kid so he is in fantastic shape. He’s not super tall, but he’s slim while maintaining that good muscle definition. He’s stronger than he looks.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

-It’s HELLA high, y’all, mostly because he’s obsessed with you. But yeah, he’s almost always in the mood to fool around.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

-Hawks gets wiped out after sex and you often have to keep him from passing out right you finish. He just wants to snuggle up to you and doze off ‘cause he’s so happy and content and comfortable. Even if he’s in rut, he still needs to be holding you when he’s finally spent and ready for sleep.

#smut alphabet #abcs of smut #Boku no Hero Academia #Hawks #Keigo Takami #My Hero Acadamia #anime #manga #headcanon #Takami Keigo

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shsl-box-worshipper · 4 years

Text

The Protag Magical Squad and How they met

Happy Birthday, @leafintel! For my gift, I bring you a small preview of the first draft of a fanfic I’m fucking writing based on your magical bois art! Enjoy, and pls tell me if I suck or not _______________ Makoto was, by all means, one of the most average teenagers alive. If you put aside his luck, his immense optimism, and his height, he was about normal as the guy next door. His interests and hobbies aligned with what was popular and he didn’t seem like that his life could change in just a few hours. In fact, he didn’t even imagine what would be happen in the course of those hours. In that short amount of time, he would meet two of the most amazing people he’s ever met, and would get thrown onto an adventure of a lifetime. Talk about a life changer! //// Location: Near Hope’s Peak Academy Time: 8:21 am Makoto was running toward his school, obviously running late. He was coming back to school after a weekend of spending time with his family, but apparently, the train that was supposed to take him to Hope’s Peak from his home had broken down just as it parked, and thus, he had to waste 30 minutes he could’ve used to get to school waiting for the train to get back up and running. He hoped Mr. Kizakura wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t there for morning registration for a few minutes. Even though Kizakura was drunk half the time, he wanted to at least not look like a douche in front of him. “Oh, I hope I don’t miss seeing Maizono off! She always leave’s right after morning registration, and I want to at least talk to her about the group project.” For context, he, Sayaka, and an underclassman of his were busy in a school project, in which they had to figure out the meaning of a bunch of poems written by an obscure poet. The reason that an underclassman was part of the project was because the three were among the few Ultimates that actually attended normal classes. He personally didn’t really know the underclassmen minus the fact that he had the same talent as another classmate of his, Kyouko Kirigiri. Anyway, back to the task at hand! The poor boy was working a sweat as he ran to Hope’s Peak, completely unaware of his own surroundings as he headed to the school of hope. It seemed to be going well for the boy, in terms of how late he would be, until... *WAAHM!* He ran in, head first, into someone! He landed on his butt, yelping as he fell to the pavement of the sidewalk. “Owwww...” Makoto groaned, rubbing his forehead where he had run into the person. It felt sore to the touch, but he didn’t really injure himself. Just rammed right into them. “W-Woah, hey! Are you alright?” The soul who Makoto ran into came over to Makoto, who was still on the ground, and held out his hand. Makoto looked up, only to see another boy. He wore a black suit, common to those who did school in the Reserve Course, Hope’s Peak’s lesser known program for those who want to be one of the Ultimates. He had short spiky brown hair with an ahoge similar to Makoto’s, except spikier and looking like it could cut someone like a razor, green eyes that were filled with both concern and a lack of energy, and seemed a year or so older than Makoto, which made sense. Makoto, after all, still had upperclassmen. Still though, he couldn’t help but blush embarrassingly as he grabbed the boy’s hand and pulled himself up.

“I’m sorry for bumping into y-you-” Makoto would quickly try to apologize, but would be cut off by the boy. “No, it’s okay. I was lost in thought, and didn’t know I wasn’t the only one running late-” Judging by the boy’s statement, he was lost in thought about something important. “N-No, it isn’t your fault! I wasn’t paying attention on where I was going!” Makoto, being the naïve dork he was, continued apologizing his ears off. It was so much so that by the time to the two got to walking again, he was still apologizing, to the point where the boy started looking both guilt-tripped and annoyed, though he did try his best to hide it in order for Makoto to not continue feeling guilty. It took about ten or so minutes for the two to reach the gates of Hope’s Peak. At that point, Makoto had stopped apologizing the reserve course student’s ears off, and instead, was trying to stay quiet, visibly embarrassed and wondering whether or not he should start a conversation. “U-Umm, I’m sorry for bumping into you, again...” The Lucky Student would skittishly turn toward the other teen. He then would reach out his hand, obviously nervous as to if the supposed upperclassmen was going to answer. “I’m Makoto Naegi, Ultimate Lucky Student!” Makoto was trying to focus away from what happened, and he personally did want to learn the name of the boy he just met. Even with all that, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation pooling in his belly, one he didn’t really know how to describe. Maybe it was just a layered version of guilt? Happiness? Pleasure? What it meant to the small boy was a mystery. Anyway, the boy he had bumped into, after staring at his hand with beads of sweat running down his forehead for a few seconds, sighed and half-heartedly shaked his hand. “Ugh, well, I guess I should introduce myself now,” the boy whispered in defeat, an effect not uncommon for those who knew or met Makoto Naegi. The boy was so bright and happy that even the most stoic of them broke when it came to the boy’s skittishness and optimism. “Hajime. Hajime Hinata. You can probably guess that I’m not exactly an Ultimate.” The boy named Hajime continued shaking his hand, filled with a similar feeling to what Makoto had. The boy did think about how odd Makoto’s talent. I mean, you get to join this school purely based on luck? Now, that’s rare, and something he hadn’t heard off before outside of what Chiaki said about a certain hope obsessed bastard. “Nice to meet you, Hinata-kun!” Makoto soon beamed his signature, which caused his new friend to blush. Makoto sheepishly chuckled as he scratched his cheek like the cutest goddamn boy on the fucking planet. “It’s nice knowing someone that isn’t in the Main Course. Even though I’m an Ultimate myself, I’m kind of average for someone my age.” Poor Hajime had to hide the blush desperately from Makoto, much to the small child’s confusion. He then just replied with desperation in his voice, and obviously sounding a bit pre-occupied. “R-Really? Wow, didn’t know an Ultimate that wasn’t Nanami-san would actually introduce themselves to me.” Hajime internally did a fist pump of pure pride, though he did hide this emotion. I mean, him meeting another ultimate that wasn’t just Chiaki? It seemed crazy, but here he is, talking to the hopeful enigma known as Makoto Naegi. He let go of Makoto’s hand and quickly tried hiding them in the pockets in his pants. Makoto, feeling the same in a strange way, did scratch his head with embarrassment. “So, umm, Hinata-kun, you do you want to chat after s-” A familiar tone ringed out throughout the building close to them, and the two boys immediately turned their gaze at the building known as Hope’s Peak Academy. The two were now late as all get out, even more so than they would ever be. Hajime automatically ran for the reserve course building, not really keen on hearing a tardiness lecture from his teachers, who were probably going to enjoy their free reign over Hajime since they never have any fun otherwise at the reserve course. Makoto, meanwhile, stood their waving bye at Hajime, staring at him with distant looking eyes. However, those eyes immediately snapped back into reality, and the hazel eyes then looked at the door to the main building as Makoto ran, tripping on a couple of stones here and there. If only those two knew of who they would meet, or what they would become.

#naehinahara #birthday gift #leafintel #enjoy!#it's mostly just hajime and makoto rn #but this fic will have a LOT of shuichi in it #i promise #someone check the word count pls

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thetomorrowshow · 4 years

Text

Slower Than Words Ch. 3

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Hey all! I’m really enjoying writing this! We’re almost to some exciting stuff--next chapter is going to be big (and boy, the chapter after that...)! This chapter is a bit shorter than the past two, but 4 and 5 will more than make up for it in length! Hope you enjoy!

CW: Inflicted blindness

Knowing that Patton was deaf didn't change much. Virgil still talked—possibly even more than he had before. They would sit, curled into each other, and Virgil would talk and talk and talk. He told stories, he talked about his roommate, he did his best to recount The Hunger Games from memory. He went over rules of the English language, tried to recall the periodic table of elements. All the while, Patton had a hand on his chest and the other on his cheek, feeling the vibrations and presumably watching his mouth.

Every day, they ate three meals that were suspiciously similar to those of the previous day.

Every day, they had a slowly lengthening work-out routine, now with thirty jumping jacks and five push-ups, followed by twenty lunges.

Every day, they spent hours tracing the alphabet onto each others' arms. Every day, they got better at spelling and understanding, sometimes getting whole sentences out before having to repeat something.

Virgil eventually found himself growing bored of the monotony. He no longer feared for his life, as he had the first month of captivity. He hadn't been so much as touched by anyone other than Patton. The food was fine, the living conditions were acceptable. He knew the room well enough by now that he could walk without Patton's help, but chose not to. He was still held captive by the irrational fear that Patton would disappear if he let go of him. Even when in the poor excuse for a bathroom, Patton tapped lightly on the curtain to a regular tempo, letting Virgil hear his presence.

Every day was the same without fail.

Until one day, the schedule changed.

On that day, Virgil was woken up by a hand tugging on his wrist. He barely had time to trace a '?' on the arm, which was hurriedly responded to with a 'P' before pulling him out of bed. He was less worried now, knowing it was Patton waking him up and not some dangerous stranger. Then he was stumbling across the room, on track for the door, and then—what? Where was the door?

Virgil tripped out of his surprise, almost introducing his face to whatever floor he was hurrying across. Where were they? The room wasn't this long. Were they out?

He started slapping at Patton's arm frantically, trying to get the man to stop moving and talk to him. Where were they? How did they get out of the room?

Finally Patton stopped, and Virgil could feel the excitement practically bleed out of him.

W-h-e-r-e a-r-e w-e ?

A hesitation, then Patton responded.

O-u-t. R-o-o-m w-i-t-h b-o-o-k-s.

Just books? Why were they here, then? Who let them out?

G-u-a-r-d g-u-i-d-e, Patton spelled as if he could hear Virgil's thoughts. G-o b-a-c-k.

After a moment, Patton gently took his hand and led him again, albeit more slowly this time. Virgil knew he was in a different place—or had been—but it felt the same. There was no change of air, no different smell. For the first time since he'd met Patton, Virgil felt hopelessness turn his bones to lead. Soon enough, they were back to the room, Patton taking him on a quick round of the room to let him know where they were. Then Patton pulled him to the floor and began excitedly tracing.

I got a book! Do you want me to spell it to you?

Virgil nodded animatedly, before actually thinking about it. Surely that would kill Patton's hands. He shook his head, then spelled out I don't want to bother you.

Patton responded by pulling Virgil's hand up to his mouth, tracing it along what was almost certainly a smile. Without saying anything else, he began the book.

A girl came out of lawyer Royall's house, at the end of the one street of North Dormer. . . .

They didn't even get all the way through chapter one before they were both too mentally exhausted to continue. They lay like they sometimes did, hands loosely clasped, feet barely entwined. Patton had picked up on the fact that too much physical contact at once overwhelmed Virgil, but also understood that he wasn't willing to go with zero contact at any time.

Virgil talked again, repeating things that he'd already said. It didn't matter—Patton couldn't hear.

“So then Roman took one look at the guy and said to me, 'he's hot.' I was like, whatever. I'm not sure what he saw in the dude, he was pretty average looking. Roman's attracted to guys with vitiligo or birthmarks, though, so I guess that already colored him green in his book. Colored him green—who says that? Nobody, probably. It doesn't matter. Anyway, Ro was really into this dude, and he finally got all that swagger that he sometimes gets, like I told you the other day? So he walked up to this guy and asked his name. I think he was planning on making up a pick-up line? Afterwards, he wouldn't tell me what happened, but he was rejected big time. He was taking over our whole dorm room moping for the next week before he asked me to go talk to the guy.”

Virgil shifted a bit, trying not to move Patton's hand from his chest. He always let it rest there when Virgil was talking.

“So the guy's name was Janus. Yeah, he was sort of distant and rude, but Roman normally only talks about his newest crush for three days. He'd lasted a month, so I figured it was sort of permanent. So I told him Roman wouldn't leave me alone until the two of them went on a date, and Janus agreed to ask him out if I gave him three of my meals. Not a problem—I wasn't gonna eat nineteen meals that week anyway. It was a mistake, I guess, because the next thing I knew they were dating and I was still hearing Roman obsess over him, but now it wasn't as creepy because it was mutual. And sometimes I'd get back, with plans to listen to music and think about doing my homework, and they'd just be making out on his bed. I almost bought them a 'do not disturb' sign, but it's my room too, y'know? I have rights.”

A wave of sadness hit him. He never thought he'd miss his roommate publicly making out with his weird boyfriend, but here he was.

It was definitely time to stop talking, though. Water was only accessible through meals or the sink in the sectioned-off corner, and he didn't feel like getting Patton up just because he had a sore throat.

O-k-? Patton spelled sleepily. Virgil pressed his knuckles into Patton's wrist, their agreed-upon sign for 'yes'. He knew they ought to get into the bed, but he really didn't feel like getting up. Maybe they could sleep on the floor.

Patton seemed to feel the same way, curling right into his side and settling in. For all he missed in the past, Virgil wouldn’t take it all back if it meant he would lose Patton. He let his hand card through the man’s hair gently, then sighed. Sure, life sucked. But they had each other.

Taglist (I would love to add you, just ask!): @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera

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knovesstorytelling · 4 years

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Murray Mysteries S1E3 Transcript

Episode 3. Dr Seward’s Clinical Hour

Written By May Toudic

Mina: Welcome to Murray Mysteries.

[Theme music plays.]

Mina: Hello everyone! And welcome back to the podcast. Today’s episode is something a little bit different. I promised variety, entertainment, and a healthy amount of educational content. So, we are branching out. I’m here with Dr. Jane Seward, who agreed to tell us about her job as a clinical psychiatrist and share some of her case notes with us.

Jane: Thank you for having me, Miss Murray. It’s a pleasure to be here.

Mina: Thank you for coming. I know this can’t have been the most, um, comfortable location for us. First of all, how did you end up running a whole mental health institution at such a young age?

Jane: Oh, I, I guess I got lucky. I did quite a few internships during my degree, including at the institution I currently work at. They offered me a residency after graduation and then a permanent job. The previous director left soon after that and he offered me his position.

Mina: You must’ve done an amazing job to climb the ranks so quickly. I assume junior members of the staff usually aren’t a first pick for a job like this.

Jane: I do my best, but I wasn’t any more deserving than any of my colleagues.

Mina: Okay.

[She hums in thought.]

Mina: Now, can you tell us what your job entails exactly?

Jane: Mostly administrative tasks. The day to day running of an institution like this one requires a lot of paperwork. But I do get to take on a few patients to keep my skills sharp and conduct my research.

Mina: Wha— what kind of research?

Jane: I’m generally assigned to cases that can’t easily be diagnosed with anything in the handbook. I have a patient at the moment — oh, uh, you want to play the recordings?

Mina: If you don’t mind. Listeners, the very organized Dr. Seward has agreed to share some of the voice notes she takes on the job to keep track of her cases. We’ll still be here to interject if anything needs explaining, but for now, take it away Past Doctor.

[A beep.]

Jane (recording): Right. New patient in today, and a promising case. I’ll call him R in here for confidentiality purposes. Late 50’s, impressive physical strength, very excitable with periods of depression and some fixation we haven’t managed to pinpoint yet.

[A beep.]

Jane: R has been with us for a few days now and I’ve had the chance to get to know his case better. He displays signs of a few known disorders, but his symptoms are peculiar. He’s obsessed with animals, started collecting insects he found in his room and common areas. Spiders mostly. Some flies, even a few birds. He uses a lot of his own food to keep them alive, even if we upped his portions, so we’re somewhat worried about his nutrition. Although it seems like he’s, um. Eating some of them. Escalation is a concern in this case, especially since he’s started requesting other pets. He keeps asking for a cat, which we of course had to refuse. We’ll see how the situation evolves in the coming days, but this is an interesting case. Zoophagia, some kind of fixation, I need to do more research. There must’ve been a similar case somewhere, sometime. But if this hasn’t been documented yet, this could be big. Right, to the books.

[A beep.]

Mina: That is fascinating. Do you already have a diagnosis in mind?

Jane: There are a few possibilities, but I don’t want to favour a particular one until we have more information. I’m hopeful we can diagnosis in due time. It’s easier to treat a condition when we know what we’re treating.

Mina: Um. What happens if, uh, if it isn’t a known condition?

Jane: In the unlikely case this is something new, I do research. More research, and more research on top of that. Take a lot of notes, ask for a second opinion, then a third. Then I write a very long paper, have it peer-reviewed, and submit it to many, many, many academic journals.

Mina: That sounds like a lot of work. But, it would be rewarding, right?

Jane: A new illness is quite an important discovery, yes. But the well-being of the patient comes first, and the best thing for him would be to get diagnosed and treated for something that has a precedent.

Mina: Of course. Well. Ah, this has been a great talk! I’d love for you to come back and keep us updated if that’s okay with you.

Jane: Hem, yes. Yes, why not. I, I just.

Mina: Ah. I’ll make sure Lucy’s out.

Jane: Thank you.

Mina: Well, this was clinical hour with Dr. Jane Seward. Tune in next time for an update on R’s mysterious condition.

Jane: Oh, um. Goodbye!

[Jane leaves the room.]

Mina: I hope you all enjoyed that because this week’s personal update isn’t the cheeriest. Sorry. I know, I promised you, uh. Fun and entertainment. I just—

[She sighs.]

Mina: I’m worried. Talking to you makes me feel a little less... Alone. Like I’m not just, talking into the void. The past few days have been complicated. I haven’t heard from Jonathan in a while. At first, I figured he has no reception. The place he was headed to was in the middle of nowhere, so we figured this might happen. But. I still got nervous after days without signs of life. So I reached out to the boss at his firm, Mr. Hawkins, uh, to see if he knew anything. But he told me he just received an email from Jonathan saying he was leaving his client’s place. Just one line. No time frame, no flight details. Nothing.

[She sighs again.]

Mina: It’s not like, it’s not like J, I swear it’s not. He’s usually open and communicative. First Christmas after we got together, he went home to see his family and kept texting me about every single part of his day. When he woke up, what he dreamt about, what he had for breakfast, what the weather was like, what presents he’d found for his third cousin and the food—

Mina (laughingly): Oh God, so many food pictures.

Mina: Anyway. I tried to ignore it and, uh. Just wait for him to get back. But it’s been a few days now. And no matter how I think about it, there’s no way it would take that long to get from the Romania to UK. Mr. Hawkins hasn’t heard from him either, not since that one email. I keep thinking something’s happened to him. I get this… feeling of dread every time the phone rings.

[She lets out a quiet breath.]

Mina: I would normally talk to Lucy about this, she’s great at talking me out of a crisis, but she hasn’t been herself either. She’s sleepwalking almost every night. Her mum says it used to happen when she was a kid, but definitely not that much. We agreed to keep her bedroom door locked at night. I sleep in here with her so I can keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t try and get out. But that means I keep getting woken up by her moving around and I’m not sleeping much. Lucy’s mum thinks all the sleepwalkers gravitate towards roofs and cliffs and end up falling to their deaths. So far, Lucy’s only been wandering through the house and raiding the fridge, but uh. Better safe than sorry?

Mina: She’s even more angsty than usual too. Art had to fly to the US, their dad’s not doing great, so she’s been dragging me into her schemes and making herself busy. If I have to spend one more night watching her do shots at the village pub, I might lock her in during the day. No, no I feel bad just saying it. But, come on! Even jigsaw puzzles aren’t worth all this. Especially not when she keeps getting distracted and sending Art pictures of the funny shapes.

[A pause.]

Mina: The weather’s turning, I should— I should go check on her. I promise the next update will be more fun. I’ll do cartwheels or something.

Mina (whispering): Wait, no, you can’t see me.

Mina: Um, verbal cartwheels? I’ll— I’ll do those? Ugh. I’ll talk to you next week, when I’ve had time to figure out what verbal cartwheels are and how to do them. Bye!

[Theme music begins]

Credits: Murray Mysteries is a Knoves Storytelling production. This episode was written and produced by May Toudic and featured Drew Victorie as Mina Murray and Bebhinn Tankard as Dr. Jane Seward. Original music by Sophie K. Thank you for listening.

#mm transcripts

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roseamongroses · 4 years

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W.A.L: “Fly Me to the Moon” Part One (22)

s u m m a r y:

Eden was the lowest of the low, a monster, hardly human, and was set to be executed. Roman was on trial, perpetually stuck in time until it was time to atone for his families sins.

Neither cared much for staying trapped.

So when a Stranger offered freedom, offered peace, offered power, it was hard to say no.

Even if it put them on the wrong side of history.

v i b e s :

time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

w a r n i n g s

Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries, Mentions of past Death, minor character death/suicide, repression, cursing,

c h a r a c t e r s

Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani

Ship: Roceit

1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

(12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17)

---

“Are the rest of the brats getting ready?” Roman asked, picking up a comb and a jar of moisturizer.

“Uh-- I think so?” Lauren winced sitting back, “I wouldn’t know, Kai’s being… weird,” Roman ran their hand experimentally through the now kinkier coils in her hair, the light tugging of her scalp painfully nostalgic.

She’d always prefered her hair straight, but she never went so long without taking a break. It was mainly luck that she hadn’t had any major heat damage, but even that fear didn’t make the idea any more appealing.

You could say she was avoiding it in a way.

Her mom had always insisted on braiding Lauren’s hair herself, so the act was tangled with her in every way. Doing it by herself now only made her mom’s absence louder, but having Roman here made it better.

“Weird how?” Roman asked, detangling her hair, “Is he getting pissy about getting his ass kicked?”

“No…” She said, bracing herself, “That’s why it's weird. He’s not complaining, he’s avoiding me,” She sighed, feeling strangely annoyed. It wasn’t like she liked the constant arguing, but this was just odd…. Did she do something wrong?

Why does she even care?

Roman’s hands stopped mid braid, “Oh,” he hummed before resuming, “Maybe he’s just in a mood,” he said, a laugh peeking through his tone.

“What?” Lauren demanded.

“Nothing, nothing,” Roman snickered, “I’m just thinking about how pretty you’re going to be in that dress,” he cooed, pinching her cheek and effectively smearing whatever moisturizer he was using all over her cheek.

“Gross,” Lauren scowled to keep the smile from her face, “Anyway you’re too calm about this,” she said, her worry bubbling at the thought of just… walking into Council territory, “Do you really believe Drak’on’s going to play fair?”

It could go a lot of ways.

Logan was fair to a fault, so she wasn’t worried about dirty tricks from him. But he was predictable in a dangerous way. He had a never ending consistency that tended to wear people down. Roman wasn’t as unpredictable as Remus, but he had a similar quality. He couldn’t afford to trust that his body and magic would perform the same way every time, so he had to be creative, and more than often had to run himself ragged.

“Are you worried?” Roman asked, but it was more like an observation.

“You should be,” Lauren grumbled.

“I’m not,” Roman said.

She was oddly comforted by the finality of the promise.

---

Upon opening the letter, they were taken in a flash of light.

They first saw a glittering series of arcs that were almost translucent. It was as if the towering structure was merely ideas carved into the stars, but it solid beneath their feet. Deceit wasn’t sure how he was breathing with the world so far beneath him, with the stars so close.

The Offerings were a series of events, of elaborate ceremonies, of balls. A celebration at it's finest, but preformative grief at its core. Councilmen decked out in elaborate gowns and ancient suits milled inside the glittering gates, magic flowing from people’s tongues as easy as they laughed.

The brats were pretty much gawking, but thankfully they didn’t wander off.

Roman’s face betrayed nothing but unapologetic decadence. Their hair braided high before exploding into a fire of curls and flowers. All signs of exhaustion were wiped clean behind rosy lips and impossibly dark lashes that were stark against his eyes. Roman was in his element to anyone with eyes, but his death grip on Deceit’s arm told another story.

Which to be fair, was expected. They were deep in Councilmen territory, with their invitation only being allowed due to the technicalities of their situation--i.e all the alleged crimes not being directly linked to anyone, but The Stranger-- and Drak’on’s disturbing amount of influence.

Still Deceit knew that wasn’t it, “Roman?” He said, the question hanging in the air between them as they handed off their bags.

“The curse,” Roman sighed, “Even if I have temporary immunity, I keep expecting to...It’s more mental than anything,” he explained, low, “It shouldn’t be a problem, but...forgive me if I’m a bit more clingy,”

“That’s it?” He said scrutinizing them. They'd gotten better at actually vocalizing their limits lately, but Deceit knew he’d be more willing to cover it up in order to not cause a scene.

“E… Darling... tonight will be fine,” Roman promised. He tilted his head, horns catching the light and his eyes having a hungry glint, “You trust me?”

Deceit was breathless, “Something like that.”

---

Virgil stirred the brothy, something, in front of him, mildly impressed by how shiny the utensils were, but mostly getting sick by how rich everything tasted. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to eating “good” food, in fact from what he could remember he was most likely used to it, but there was a different level of luxury here. It was almost irritating.

Actually a lot of things were irritating, the key one being that his supposed date fucked off to schmooze with rich bastards, but the most alarming part of that was that Virgil wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to Logan at all right now.

It was all duel this and duel that lately. About how this is what he always deserved, how he’ll somehow become better--how everything will become better once he finally puts this to rest and claim his rightful place. Virgil’s beginning to suspect that Logan didn’t even realize how obsessed he was getting with it.

In fact, Virgil suspected that Logan’s always been obsessed with this, but Dr. Picani never let him fixate on that need entirely. Even if Dr. Picani was low-key just as dysfunctional as his Apprentices, the man was disgustingly determined to create a somewhat functional life for them.

But Dr. Picani was gone, even if they found him-- his consciousness had yet to return. All they had now was Ms. Annalise Drak’on, someone who apparently had no issue with feeding Logan’s obsession.

Virgil felt sick.

He stood, not caring about how loudly he dropped the utensils or about the dirty looks sent his way as he pushed his way through the crowd. The band was some pseudo-jazz, a thundering accompaniment to his rising anxiety and the dazzling lights were getting too much and--

His spiraling halted upon catching the faintest blue flash in the corner of his eye. Turning around he met Patton’s eyes. Virgil flinched and for the briefest moment Patton’s brow furrowed, before smoothing into his normal dazed expression, “You’re alone?”

Virgil wanted to scowl, but he couldn’t. He was alone and he wasn't sure how long its been draining away at him.

Patton nodded at his non-response, “You need air,” he said, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd. It took a few seconds before Virgil realized he was meant to follow.

Virgil somehow found himself out of the crowd, feeling the cool air first, and the relief of being away from all of those people all at once. Patton was already there leaning against the balcony, the translucent beads of their gown soft against the blue of the distant earth.

Patton turned his head to acknowledge him, “Is this better?”

“I think so,” Virgil sighed, slumping against the balcony, “Uh… thanks, I guess,” Patton laughed, an off colored chirp that normally unnerved Virgil, but now only made him blush, “What?”

“I don’t scare you anymore, do I?” Patton said, covering his mouth.

“I was never--” Virgil winced at the lie, “Was I that obvious?”

“Yes, but…” Patton started, trailing off, “I didn’t mind completely,”

Virgil frowned, “You didn’t mind me being an asshole?”

“I minded,” Patton said, “But at least you didn’t hide it,” he shrugged as if that explained it all, “I knew Logan and Emile cared about me, but… it was like they were afraid to admit that they didn’t always feel safe,”

“...Should we feel safe?’ Virgil said, twisting and untwisting the loose hair.

Patton didn’t respond immediately, tracing the rail, “I wish you could, but I…” he sighed, “Watchdogs aren’t meant to be outside the colonies for long without a bond...we aren’t built for that. When I’m home I can feel-- I’m in control,” he said, “But here, it feels like all I can do is take orders and hope, there’s nothing else there,” His face twisted unnaturally, but his eyes remained blank.

“Why…” Virgil tore his gaze away, “After Remus….Why didn’t you go to Roman?” he asked. It seemed simple, just go to another Sanders, a legal, full magic Sanders--

“I wasn’t in love with Roman,” Patton said, with no theatrics, but the simplicity throbbed with something intense, “Why didn’t you die in the river?”

“I-” Rushing water, blood everywhere,it was only supposed to be a game, it was a game it was a game, it was a game, “I didn’t want to die.”

“You’re lying,” Patton said, matter of fact.

Virgil blew out his cheeks, “I got lucky,” he admitted. Lucky that he wasn’t deemed enough of a threat by the other two. Lucky that the vial seared in his hand instead of in his eyes or down his throat. Lucky that at the end of the day, he thought it was a just game. Something stupid to do before church.

If only he knew that it was The Stranger’s Game he was playing.

“Well...I’m glad you were lucky,” Patton said quietly, “I wouldn’t have met you and I certainly wouldn’t have stayed for as long as I did without you two…”

Virgil’s throat tightened, “I…” he wiped his eyes, “Why do I feel like that’s a goodbye?” he choked out a bitter laugh.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Patton smiled, “You could always visit the colonies,” he said wistfully, and Virgil swore he glowed a little bit brighter, “I might be a bit...different there, but it's a good different,”

“...Can you tell me more about it?” Virgil asked.

Patton did.

He told Virgil about the fountains-- how water dripped like fire, but was icy to the touch. He talked about how young watchdogs burned holes in their cribs and terrorized their families. About the family dinners, with plates overflowing with food--how each story and laugh was never the same.

He told Virgil about how the community grew closer and took care of each other in spite of the stricter regulations. About how they’re even planning to build their own schools instead of relying on council tutors. He told Virgil about his mom and dad, about how they missed him, but understood he wanted to see his friends. He told Virgil about everything he missed and hated and seemed to glow a little bit brighter with each second.

Virgil doesn’t know why, but it felt nice. It sounded nice--talking to Patton was nice in a way that Virgil didn’t even know he missed. It's been awhile since he just...had fun.

The music changed, to something delicate--a soft piano, followed by a low, breathy voice. Patton’s voice trailed off and he closed his eyes swaying to the lullaby.

Virgil asked him for a dance.

#ts sides #roceit #ts deceit #ts janus #ts roman #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #Winners Among the Losing

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ilovechristopheralexandershaw · 5 years

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What would your ideal drarry fic be? Like, how would they get together, what tropes would be involved, what would be your ideal story line? Any squicks or triggers or things you aren't interested in? Any HC's with the two of them? :D

THIS IS THREE THOUSAND TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY SEVEN WORDS OR SOMETHING HELP ME

Whoo boi, honey, lemme tell you, this answer gave me some s t r e s s. Tumblr, can you just...idk, have a save drafts option for asks? No?

Anyways, back to the point. Snuggle down into your blankets y’all, ‘cause this is gonna be one long post.

What would my ideal drarry fic be? Okay, siriusly, legit anything with angst. Copious amounts of angst. Drown me in the angst. I’m always willing to read an angsty fic, almost always as willing to read a fluffy fic and occasionally have an urge for smut but that’s like…every three months or so lmao. I prefer a story that isn’t based on the size of one’s cock. (Sorry if that’s a little crude). I’m fine with any length of fic, as long as it has a good story behind it and if it hopefully has some heart-wrenching moments that make me feel like I might have a soul after all. I love fics that keep their character – not too much, though – and have them arguing with each other all the time – its more real to me, and makes me laugh. I love drarry because of that, because it’s that ship that will keep their relationship, unlike idk shrek and Fiona who fall for each other and lose their old self completely. Drarry is that ship that stays intact and old and new at the same time, and that’s why I love it.

How would they get together? I have this vision of the two getting together slowly. First it’s banter, insults, hexing, all the while having miscommunication and some serious pining because I’m an absolute sucker for that shit. As I said, angst. Hate turns to like and death threats to exasperated, witty little replies, private jokes between the two of them – a Malfoy Stinks embroidered on his robes in place of Healer Malfoy.

I love fics where there’s just that one, final leap of – I have to do it, otherwise I’ll never get another chance, I don’t care about the consequences. If it’s a kiss that gets them together, in that ‘final chance’ way, I love it when the other is too shocked, and the first person just loses all hope (I mean until like two seconds later when they’re snogging the life out of each other lmao). Basically just a slow build and all the sass 😊

Tropes? Okay, I’m gonna admit that even though I’ve been in the fandom for a few months, I still can’t define so much, but I hope most of what I write here is legible.

I love coffeeshop Aus, I find them really cute and sweet, and a blushing Malfoy is always a bonus. Eighth year is my absolute jam, unless it’s a drinking fic in which case no thanks. I love friends to lovers or enemies to lovers – the slow build, especially if the author has timed it perfectly, is just argh, I love it. Pining has been mentioned like a hundred times already but I’m going to say it again just because. Roommates are okay, I guess, but not exactly my go-to. I do like muggle Aus, and even though I think Potter should be a teacher, I enjoy the action in an Auror Partners fic, too. Also uh..oops? This was supposed to be tropes that were involved not the tropes you like you dumb butt. That’s not what Nonny asked.

My ideal storyline for a drarry fic? Not sure if this is what you’re asking but I’m gonna go with it and if I’m wrong then I’m wrong y’know?

As I said, I like fics with pining. I love a number of storylines, but I’m just gonna choose one for this thing since it’s already almost if not over two thousand words (is anyone even reading this? Who cares, I’m having fun) okay I checked its like over 2600 help me. Also this turned out into a fic not an ideal storyline hhhhhhhh

I guess I like fics with slow-building pining, going from meeting together at work or having to work together for some reason in eighth year, or just seeing each other in eighth year. PTSD gets them together, but so does the (admittedly weaker) banter, since nobody understands either of them – the Saviour and the Ex Death Eater. The press is still going off about the war, and everyone has their own ways of coping. Soon enough, they’re friends – (ok let’s pretend this is eight year) and helping each other through the bad days. And soon enough, the insults that hit closer to home for others but not them, the inside jokes, the love of Quidditch, the homework assistance – all this time around each other turns to pining. Malf-Draco, with his white-blond hair and black turtlenecks that he kept even though that was what he wore as a Death Eater. With his now self-deprecating jokes instead of hurtful insults. With his smile, that shows his sneer lines of the past. With his blue-gray eyes. With his knowing smirk when they’ve done one of their own eighth year pranks. Even with his wonky Charms and obsession with stroking the Dark Mark and the way he stops in front of the Room of Requirement every time they pass. And Harry, with his mop of untidy hair and glasses that have had Reparo used on them who knows how many times by now? With his bright green eyes, with his surprisingly pale skin, with the way he disappears into the forest every now and then, staring at the clearing where Voldemort once thought him dead. They pine, they’re oblivious, and finally, Pansy spills it to draco, an exasperated ‘will you kiss him or not’ just as Harry rounds the corner in his invisibility cloak. ‘are you stupid. Pans? We’re just friends.’ (wow ideal storyline this is a mini fic by now what am I doing with life my math sheet is like right in front of me I should be doing that). The questions, that night, in their respective beds. And the finale, with Harry rethinking ‘we’re just friends’ in his head in the final Seeker-to-seeker game, Draco leaning in.

Finally.

Okay, squicks. Here we go. First of all, I don’t really like fics where they speak really…I don’t know, childishly? To each other eg. too many cheesy pet names (‘Hi hun,’ he giggled, taking the offered plate), since my idea of drarry is a couple that banters all the time, not one that sits around squealing at each other. That’s the main reason I ship them, after all.

Another squick, although this just annoys me more than makes me uncomfortable, is when there’s a fic involving children where the author makes their speech like that of a baby. Five year olds and younger can make legible sentences, so it’s sometimes irritating when eight-year-old Scorpius is saying ‘dada give h-h-hoog’ if you get my drift.

Daddy kink is another thing. If you like it, good for you but personally, I- *shudders* no thanks. It’s just – okay, my dad’s like over fifty, and that’s what I imagine if I think of that. Sex with my dad? I’ll pass. Calling your boyfriend your ‘daddy’? I- no no no just no I’m sorry but no.

Okay, I’ll rephrase. Most, if not all kinks make me uncomfortable – I’ve said daddy already, Parseltongue (just any other language) is just weird to me (it’s not disgusting, I just find it kind of dubious I guess.), any sort of pet play is similar if not worse than daddy kink, choking or breath play sounds more like rape (I’m crude, handle it), lingerie is just hella weird and I don’t even want to know what tentacles are, thank you very much. I’ll stick to my vanilla sex.

Any sort of sex toy/tool use is also a squick (including painful BDSM stuff), but I’m not sure if that’s kink so I’ll just add it here.

I don’t mind OOC fics, but, again, if they’re too soft (unless it’s some sort of caring angsty oneshot e.g. most of @rose-grangerweasleyisbae ‘s ones) then they most likely don’t work with me either.

Triggers? No, I haven’t read any fics that have triggered me in any way and I’m not sure if I have any. Most are squicks.

Fics, or tropes, I guess, that I’m not interested in would include either one being some sort of Magical Creature (although there are some exceptions – some writers make really good fics with these tropes), and by that I mean any humanoid creature such as a werewolf, vampire etc. Veela especially. Also, anything with mates. (Fun fact, in my first answer that got deleted, I wrote a headcanon fic thing with draco as a bowtruckle since I said I don’t know if that’s a squick bc I’ve never read it and decided to do it for fun)

Dunno what this is, but I’m gonna include it as well – I also don’t like fics where their entire supposedly ‘loving’ relationship is completely based on sex. I’m okay with it if they’re supposed to be fuckbuddies at that point in the relationship, but if this is what the author is calling their ‘established relationship’, I don’t really like it.

Any fic that loses the banter after their getting together, where their world and source of happiness is completely revolving around the other – that is also one of my disinterests. As I said, I ship drarry for the sass and banter (and angst). Not the sappy love.

I don’t really like unhealthy relationships – I read a fic where the whole reason Draco allowed Potter to date him was because he complimented his flying skills, not because he liked him. That’s a really minor example, but basically any fic without actually liking each other or as I said, an unhealthy relationship, doesn’t take my fancy. Unless, of course, they’re fixing it.

A fic that starts somewhere in the books, eg. third year or something, don’t normally take my fancy, but, again, there is the occasional exception that I turn out to love.

Not exactly Drarry but any poly relationships with the two of them are also a disinterest – I feel like they’re the ones for each other. Dunno if this sounds polyphobic or whatever it’s called, and it probably does, but that’s not it. I just personally don’t think Drarry need another person. Other ships, maybe. Drarry? Not for me.

Eighth year fics that are based on drinking and drinking games also aren’t my thing (omg there’s like eight million alsos here what am i doing don’t shoot me please (ok i fixed it)). I just don’t like them.

And fics with any sort of bonding lose my interest pretty quickly, especially sexual magic bonds. Mpreg, as well, again, I’ll read the occasional fic but most of the time I don’t really like it.

Age difference, again, are something I find strange, and I can go on for hours but this is now around three thousand words and I should stop so y’all can go read your fics lmao.

And um I’ll give you two headcanons as my way of apologising for the unbelievably late reply

Harry, lying on the ground, blood dripping from a massive slash in his stomach, chest barely moving, lips slightly parted, tinged red with drying blood

Malfoy, now just a colleague, they’ve lost the schoolboy animosity, hovering over him, wand casting diagnostic spells even though he knows they’re no use – he knows the curse but he doesn’t know the exact variation – and the wrong healing spell will kill the Saviour – he can’t take that chance.

‘Scared, Malfoy?’

His head jerks up, pale eyes widening at the old question thrown back at him. Shoulders slump, his lungs heaving from all he spells he’s cast

‘Yes’

Idk just the idea of that final admittance – yes. Idk, just, my heart, man.

Okay headcanon 2 which is more of a fic by this point (someone help me im so bad at headcanons. Like this is all fleshed out in my head but ugh)

Eighth year holidays, Draco is sitting alone at the blazing fire in the common-room, strangely enough knitting, as he talks, friendly but quiet to a surprisingly happy Moaning Myrtle (the common room is where the old bathroom was)

Hermione Jean Granger sits down next to him and he flinches, almost expecting a slap like third year – he’s had hexes from Muggleborns who had nothing to do with the war, and here’s the Saviour’s friend – of course she’s gonna –

She pulls out a massive textbook, quill, inkpot, blotting paper and three rolls of parchmment from her bag, tucks her bushy hair behind one ear, and starts scratching away

He’s surprised, but still too nervous to ask why

It becomes a habit, her sitting there there, him as well, talking to Myrtle, doing Potions work, knitting as well

They start talking to each other, he finds out she Obliviated her parents and doesn’t want to come back just yet, even though she knows the Dark Lord’s gone

She finds out he’s too scared to go home, with all the memories

They become friends of sorts, helping each other when they can

When the holidays end, there are a few double takes, but nobody really questions it. After all, it’s Hermione, she never was too against Malfoy (nobody really saw that slap) and she’s always been a rule-follower. They assume its part of Mcgonagall’s asking for peace between Slytherins and Gryffindors

I mean, Ron does complain about her hanging about the ferret nowadays and not around her boyfriend, but he gets it. Besides, their ‘sessions’, if you will, are always when there’s Quidditch practice for Harry and Ron (they help train the younger years)

So yeah, it’s not too bad (and this isn’t Dramione I promise although I do ship it occasionally)

One day, though, she brings out a bundle of knitting herself. To his surprise, she knits a single sock and puts it in a box

He asks her why

‘For Dobby’

And he remembers. He remembers the strange little house elf, the one he loved as a kid but had no way of showing it. He remembers his father’s hatred of that elf in particular He remembers scowling at the poor thing, ranting to it – it was a way of venting, but in true Malfoy-raised fashion, he’d been so cruel to it as well, laughing as it jammed its fingers in doors, encouraging its pain.

He leaves the common room early that night

Next day, the Golden Trio isn’t there. Hermione (no longer Granger) isn’t there

He knitted a single sock that morning himself. He’d heard the story from their talks. He wanted to contribute. A way of apology, if you will. If it even counted. Today’s the day the elf passed away, and Hermione had said she put a sock in there for everyone

It’s pretty obvious where they’ve gone. He Apparates there after class, and finds the grave easily. It’s got a bundle of Conjured flowers, stems wrapped around the rock that serves as a headstone, and the box of socks is right there too. (what am I doing this is meant to be a short drarry hc and I haven’t even brought potter in yet help)

He starts crying

He spent last night remembering. Remembering how even through all the pain he caused that elf, a single smile, a single ‘thanks for listening, Dobby’ would make the elf bow and weep at his feet. He remembers how cruel he was, how the elf just…took it in his stride. He remembers losing the house elf, realising Potter had stolen something else of his. He remembers

And he lets it go. He spills all of it to a gravestone, apologies and ‘I know it won’t mean anything’ and ‘I didn’t know but that’s no excuse’ and ‘you always listened, how did you always listen?’ and ‘thank you’ and most of all ‘I’m so so sorry’ stumbling over each other as he tries to explain, to finally let it out

He’s crying and sniffling and that’s making it even harder to speak but he needs to say this, even though Dobby is dead, even though he’s apologised to so many people – this is one of the few that listened to him, and he’s treated the elf like garbage.

Tears drip onto the single sock in his hands

It’s hours later when he finishes. Well, not exactly finished, but he’s said enough that he thinks he’s explained himself and said sorry – even though it’ll never be enough. He’s cast a Light Charm (not a lumos ok it’s bigger don’t correct me) and he leans over to put the now-damp sock into the box too. A final ‘I’m so sorry’ and he stands up, turns around

And comes face to face with the Golden Trio

Hermione stares at him, then grabs him in a massive hug

Ron looks at him, slightly awkwardly but at her glare, he offers a tight smile

And Harry? (wow how long has it taken for me to get here god) is just staring. Openmouthed. Who knew Malfoy had felt this much about a house elf?

And yeah that’s the point where he realises Malfoy isn’t that bad and then they go back to Bill and Fleur’s (Hermione explains along the way that they went back to the grave bc they saw the Charm and were in shock – was Dobby back?)

‘did you hear all of it?’

‘we heard enough, Draco’

And when they get back to Hogwarts, well, it’s slow building at first. Potions help when Hermione’s out on a date with Ron, a butterbeer in the school kitchens on a Hogsmeade weekend when they want to hide from the public but enjoy the drink

But over time, the pining and the miscommunication and Draco getting back to his (albeit weak) banter with Potter leads to one thing. You know what it is.

Drarry

You know what I’m having fun writing trashy hcs so here’s a third (although it ain’t drarry. It ain’t any ship)

Alright so there is no hairdresser at Hogwarts or Hogsmeade or anywhere near the castle (I mean it was never mentioned in the books was it so this is possibly canon)

Therefore, most kids have to use spells

But we all know that each of us probably has a haircut that is somehow slightly different to one another, and there aren’t that many hair care spells in the world let alone known by a few teachers in Hogwarts

While some kids know exact spells, others, for example, Muggleborns, just use Diffindio

I mean, it gets their hair cut, yeah? That’s pretty much all they need

Of course, Hermione knows each and every spell but let’s not get to that

And Malfoy uses his own spell and a litre of Sleekeazy every morning

But since everyone else cuts their own hair, it looks as bad as each other

And that’s why Harry wasn’t teased too much about his hair (yes, also bc he’s the Saviour bUT STILL)

That’s why Sirius had long hair and etc.

Basically none of the kids at Hogwarts really had good hair and they all looked like Halt from Ranger’s apprentice (also this one is long as heck I could’ve just said everyone uses diffindio and there’s no hairdresser why am I like this)

#oof yay i got an ask #what am i doing look at the length of this thing #nonny i am so sorry for doing this

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syphiria · 7 years

Text

Makai Ouji Pillar 95 (final) Translation

Sorry for the wait. Here is the finale~~~~~!!

RAW via Michelle. Thank you.

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1 (A splendid palace once stood here) (The fact that it used to be a paradise for demons, now no one knows anymore-) ([Makai Ouji: devils and realist] at last the finale-!!)

2 (Each and every one’s path continues to tomorrow-…) (Volumes 1-14, on sale now!!) (Makai Ouji devils and realist) (Final Pillar)

3 (Finally, the emotional finale!!!!) (Utako Ukihiro) (Author: Madoka Takadono)

4 S: You are Lucifer’s child? Were you after this ring just to challenge him? What a foolish and pitiful soul This is nothing like what you want C: Are you…… going to make me a slave?

5 S: I’m just going to make you sleep Until those wounds heal Everyone is doing that Here, there is no one who will harm you (Not even Lucifer) (Power unattainable even by that Emperor) C: Even I will be able sleep here?

6 (I found relief in those pillars many times) (By his side) (That’s why I tried to create this time So that this time, I may receive him) B: O new Emperor of ours Lead this Hell

7 C: I swear to fulfil my duty

8 A: In the end, with Lord Sitri in Heaven Dantalion in Limbo The one who gained the most from this battle seems to be His Lordship Beelzebub B: Your Majesty is still young From here on, it is likely that we will be required to assist C: With the disappearance of Samael and Baalberith The West and the East are missing Kings Thus, to make sure the land of the Gauls is governed, I myself will take over the ruins B: -As you wish J: To think that even after becoming a demon, I can’t cut ties with the United Kingdom B: Though if I may, there is something that I would like to ask Your Majesty

9 Leaving the command of roles of the Four Kings at that What do you plan to do with the positions of the Four Princes? J: With a new regime do you plan to assign a ‘substitute king’ and an ‘elector’? That being said, both you and we Anyone will eventually slumber The position of the Emperor cannot be left open C: That’s true… However, let’s end the conflicts from the last generation Both illogical and unproductive I’ve painfully experienced enough with this time’s case J: …… ?

10 C: It seems like I’ve been infected by that realist J: My Imperial Majesty C: Stop with that address J: Come on now, I’ve brought some good intel Hear me out ‘til the end C: ?

11 SFX dash B: Your Majesty!? J: Would you please let him go? Because he’s lived until now for this very moment

12 M: Sorry I’ve become a demon C: It’s fine No matter what form You will always be you

13 So please don’t go anywhere else…… M: Let’s bake pizza again, the three of us and invite many guests Because I want people besides us to know too of how kind you are

14 My Imperial Majesty [-One year later] [United Kingdom King’s College of Our Lady of Stratford beside the Avon Also known as: Stradford College] (TN/ The Japanese says Stradford rather that Stratford)

15 T: Graduate representative, the dux- Mycroft Swallow! W: (nihility) T: Congratulations to our new generation of graduates!!

16 Damn it… Damn it…! SFX stomp stomp If it wasn’t for the couple’s quarrel between those annoying old men I wouldn’t have been treated as missing by the house!! (The holiday ended while he was in Hell so he was treated as a missing person) I: (That’s what William makes of arguably the greatest event in History that is Lucifer’s destruction?) W: Curse them How dare there leave a scare in my glorious future diary… I: It’s fine, isn’t it W: What!? I: You’re going for further study at Oxford, right? Yet I can’t even graduate-! [Finally Sixth Form] W: Isn’t it good that you managed to advance to the next grade?

17 (This is supposed to be a view that I’m used to, yet I wonder why I feel as if something is missing-) M: Hey, congrats W: Mathers! M: E-a-r-l!

18 From today, my teaching career ends Since I thought that I’d go travelling with them E: Congrats! B: Happy times! W: Whoa!? What’s with you M: They wanted to thank you for saving Stradford’s forests If you hadn’t bought back the land, this place would have also become a polluted town W: …It’s nothing; I just used the money he left behind appropriately [After Uncle Barton died Arthur Christian disappeared some time from the school] [According to Mathers, the role of the Four Horsemen may have ended…]

19 But the council hasn’t yet passed a law regarding smog restriction M: This you’ll have to ask the person himself I: [After the said day that the old world was destroyed ‘They’ became scarce] [I heard that Sitri became an angel (at the same level as that Metatron to boot)] [Camio ascended the throne of Hell (he’s Lucifer’s son, so to say that was expected)] [Dantalion-] [is apparently slumbering in Limbo]

20 [Injured demons sink themselves into a slumber similar to death for hundreds of years] [That’s why no longer Can he and William meet] (Ultimately, he didn’t even go to Camio’s coronation) At this rate, will he continue and become a normal human? William M: Those notes have become quite thick I: Mr Mathers I’m considering eventually compiling it into one volume as you suggested, sir

21 M: You can stop with the sir I’m no longer a teacher here The Order of the Golden Dawn remains as a secret society for now I: Are you not doing what the Freemasons did? M: Are you interested? I: Of course! I’m thinking of eventually joining the Rosicrucian Order too!! M: If that’s the case, you can use this if you like I: Really!? M: I doubt I will use the name Mathers again You can go ahead and use it as a pen name MacGregor isn’t my real name anyway

22 Isaac, you’ll be the second-generation Mathers, so to speak Alter ipse amicus. ‘A friend is another self’ I: [After that, I never met the ‘Count of Glenstrae’ again] [Perhaps, maybe once] [The one who appeared in England during that horrific world war may have been him]

23 [Regardless, I succeeded his name And went on to record all the odd events that occurred around William] (‘The Lesser Key of Solomon’) […The truth is, saying that nothing strange happened around William after that would sort of be a lie] K: Young Master~~~!!! Thank God I made it on time- W: Kevin, you’re quite late K: I applied for leave just for today But my superior piled up work

24 [After Kevin took Dantalion to Limbo Right when he was about to fall from using up all his power] [It’s hard to believe, but apparently, he was saved by Michael] [He got his wings back and was able to return to Heaven] [Apparently, his current superior is that Sitri For better or for worse, they seem to be getting along well]

25 [The aforementioned Sitri still visits the human realm from time to time Even after becoming an angel] S: Still watching Even now…

26 Sign: Go die, Freemasons!!

27 SFX grab

28 M: I’ll find him Definitely

31 I: Graduation, huh A lot has happened but Can we no longer gather together and have tea like before~ Ah- T: By the way, I forgot to mention, William There’s actually a transfer student W: What? It’s the graduation ceremony today

32 Who on earth would transfer at a time like this- …Dan talion…? D: Congrats on graduating

33 W: …Why What happened to sleeping for a hundred years!?!? D: I’m shocked myself too To think that I’d awaken so soon W: In Limbo …… never I thought we’d never be able to meet again…… D: Because I wanted to see you

34 -plus I felt like you were calling me

35 K: SFX stab Let go of those filthy hands right now! D: What the heck Jerk who nearly died! K: And who exactly is a jerk who nearly died?! (I can chuck you back into Limbo again if you want!) W: Oi… S: I made it!!! William!! I’ve come by Pegasus Express!

36 C: Hey, William W: Camio too!?!? Is it alright for the Emperor of Hell and the Representative of Heaven to be casually hanging around… (Second-generation Gabriel) (Second-generation Lucifer) S: You’re going to be in a dorm in Oxford too anyway, right? In that case, I’ll occupy the common room again C: Maybe I’ll be a student again W: You guys…

37 There’s no more Substitute King selection Neither is there Solomon’s ring S: This has nothing to do with contracts W: Wha D: I like you so I want to be by your side That’s all W: L L Like…… What are you sayin……

38 S: Choose me any time you feel lonely, William Heaven’s quite a nice place (the annoying obsessed-psycho is no longer here) D: Shut-up angel The one whom William will choose is me! C: Don’t pay attention to those two, William I would love for you to come to my wedding ceremony with Maria (Maria’s bridal state is so beautiful you could die) W: My graduation ceremony My glorious day of departure!! D: You’re at fault W: What did you say S: That’s right We’ve known each other for so long, yet we still haven’t heard that crucial thing

39 D: William Who is it that you like? W: W who…

40 All: -Choose me, William!

41 SFX snap K: Get away from the Young Master’s side!! I: An angel, a demon, and a nephilim It really is rare for a human to be proposed to by everything in this world As expected of you, William W: Listen up I’m telling you this one important thing that you guys seem to have forgotten despite our long acquaintance… Open up your ears and listen carefully!

42 In this glorious life of mine Neither angels Nor demons Nor magic is needed -I am a realist!

43 All: I know!! (Thank you for being a reader for this long time!! Utako Yukihiro’s new series starts next issue!! Please look forward to it!!)

That’s it! As always, please point out any mistakes if you spot any. Thanks for sticking around for so long~~ And for those who still want more, don’t worry, I am still working on the translation for Isaac’s Fortune-Telling Diary; I will probably translate that extra booklet regarding Heaven too.

#makai ouji: devils and realist #makai ouji #devils and realist #pillar 95 #translations #魔界王子

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amaranthkick · 7 years

Text

A Kiss To Save You

I had a cute idea for shance featuring the classic ‘antidote though a kiss’ ever since i saw one almost happen in little witch academia.

Lance and Shiro were supposed to build an alliance with the mermaids of another water planet but that party was crashed by a strange merman who desired the scales of sea dragons.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Lance and Shiro were to go to another cool underwater planet filled with different kind of mermaid species than Queen Luxia’s people.

Then things went to hell in a chaotic mess of distressed, alerted yelling amid trying to avoid getting tranquilized with special darts.

“Shiro! You need to get away from here!”

“Lance!? Lance, what's wrong!?”

Shiro heard a surprised yelp from Lance making his chest tight with worry. “Shiro… need- get away… dangerous…”

“Lance!!” Shiro was beyond worried, the blue paladin sounded suddenly tired and weak as if he was sedated. He had to find him now.

When Lance woke up his mind was still fuzzy from whatever they drugged him with. His body moving sluggishly and his legs felt funny too. Ugh wait, that crazy merman said something about harvesting scales from merman-made sea dragons.

Lance gasped as he looked over his body. His legs became something like a mermaid's tail but instead of a fish-like tail, it was a similar to the tail of one of those Chinese dragons somehow suited for underwater. Lance's stomach churned at the memories of the sea dragon he faced on the underwater planet with Plaxum and the rest of the mermaids. He hoped it wasn't the same species as his new hybrid body.

As Lance ran a hand down his smooth, blue scales part of him thrilled at being a mermaid albeit a sea dragon variety. The rest of him thinking of how he can fix this. He vaguely remembered the wild gleam in the merman’s eyes as he was injected with some kind of blue gunk.

Lance shivered at the thought of the guy, he didn't want to be close to him while he's covered in the scales the merman was obsessing over. At least not without a proper plan.

Oh wait! He might have something that could reverse this from helping out an alien. They just needed to get back to Blue.

They were trapped in a cell made to be strong against sea dragons. Lance tried to spot any weak points, there didn't seem to be any.

His eyes trailed back to the door his only shot. When the mad scientist merman comes back in or anyone really, he's gonna have to rush them. He and Shiro could probably make it if they tried to make a break for it. Speaking of- Shiro still hasn't moved or spoken up.

Lance turned around, causing water to swish around. There Shiro was, huddled in the back. His purple and black scaled dragon tail twitching angrily. The leader’s face scrunched up, his mind focused on something else entirely.

Was this sudden transformation bothering him? Lance guessed that it could be deeply concerning to be changed like this. Oh! He slapped a hand to his forehead and mentally berated himself, of course this would bother Shiro. The galra treated him similarly, trapping him and experimenting on him.

Lance glanced back at the blocked entrance then shook his head. He needed to wait til someone comes in to check on them anyway, so he should use this time to help distract Shiro.

“Shiro?” His voice low as to not startle him.

Shiro blinked suddenly back in the present. “Lance? What is it?”

“Are you alright, Shiro?”

“I'm fine.” His reply was tight, not really what Lance was hoping for.

What was Lance hoping for? Perhaps for Shiro to trust him a little and feel like he could lean on him if he needed to. Lance sighed, he didn't want to push him to share if he really didn't want to either. So just offering his silent presence as support it was.

“...happy birthday to me…” Or maybe not so silent. The quiet can be suffocating sometimes and he tended to mutter random things to fill it in.

Shiro raised a questioning eyebrow in his direction.

“O-oh, just felt a little lonely here. And I remembered a time when I was alone for a birthday. My friends couldn't hang out with me then mom got me to babysit my little sister.”

He smiled tenderly to himself at the memory, “she understood that birthdays had something to do with the colorful thin candles. So she somehow found one and stuck it in this tiny plum that fit snugly in her little kid hands and gave it to me. It was the most adorable thing I've ever seen and I was so touched when she wished me happy birthday, I cried for twenty minutes.” He let out a wet laugh already tearing up. At least he would be if he wasn't submerged in water.

“It was a small gesture but it meant a lot.”

Lance chanced a glance at Shiro only to duck away in embarrassment. Shiro was giving him a fond look meaning he must have listened to his silly story.

He coughed and asked again in a whisper, “So, um are you really alright?”

Shiro sighed heavily as he looked at the dragon tail that was forced onto him. His lips twisted into a frown. “It was a small gesture but it meant a lot.”

Shiro surprised himself when he finally answered, “...no.” It was small and quick but saying it out loud felt like the weight on his shoulders got lighter.

Lance gasped, did he really-? Something took hold of him as he leaned forward to nuzzle against Shiro's neck purring all the while. He was happy Shiro admitted something was wrong and he was fine with just that. Now he wanted to comfort Shiro, new instincts told him this was an intimate, comforting gesture.

Shiro was a deep red but couldn't deny that this felt really good. A pleased purr unconsciously rumbled in his chest and their tails curled around each other.

But then Lance seemed to catch himself and instantly pulled back as if he was burned. Shiro didn't want to acknowledge the whine he made when the soft touches went away.

“Ehehe… s-sorry I don't know what came over me.” Lance rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“R-right…”

Lance then swam towards the entrance and gestured for Shiro to follow. He explained his tiny, rushed battle plan to which Shiro nodded. They would work on it once they learned what they were dealing with.

They tensed when the door shifted then opened slowly. The moment there was just enough space to slip through, Lance sprung forward like a torpedo and smashed the guard against the wall knocking the poor sap unconscious.

There only seemed to be one guard to fetch them but they didn't want to stick around to find out if he really was alone.

They looked around to find that they were some kind of tunnel system. They'd get lost easily if they didn't think of something.

Then an idea hit Lance like a ton of bricks. They were hybrids of some kind of great underwater predator so nothing left to do but to use what they got. Lance started sniffing around hoping his sense of smell could have been enhanced like a shark’s.

“Yes, it worked! Shiro follow me!” Lance exclaimed having caught a scent that reminded him of Blue’s metal. He also found their armor and took it with them.

Shiro told him that they should make a calculated retreat to gather themselves and call for backup first. The doctor sedated them with some kind of projectile so he could do it again and they were now larger targets.

They found Blue pretty fast thankfully and managed to slip by the guards. She filled the cockpit with water to accommodate their new forms and Lance piloted her away from there.

---

While Lance was piloting Blue to a safe island on the ocean planet Shiro was left alone with his thoughts again in the back of Blue’s cockpit. Shiro stared numbly at his new sea dragon tail. He clenched his metal hand, another change that was forced upon him. He didn't know how to feel. It was like a swirling storm cloud of deep-seated horror overwhelming his other emotions.

He knew that Allura and Coran could possibly reverse this but the doubt in his mind kept dragging him down like chains with ‘what if they can't?’

Shiro squeezed his eyes shut. He’s the leader, he should stay calm for Lance at least. ...Lance. The younger paladin was transformed too. How was he holding up? He mentally berated himself, he needed to get himself together. He-

His downward train of thought screeched to a halt when soft lips brushed against his. Shiro’s eyes shot open, his body frozen with shock. Lance was kissing him. Lance was kissing him!

W-w-why?! What's going on?!

His mind was still struggling to reboot after it crashed and Lance's tongue gently making its way through Shiro’s lips was not helping. Shiro jerked when he felt Lance push some kind of pill into his mouth. He was still very much dazed and confused to realize he swallowed it.

Lance had a strong hold on Shiro’s head as if to keep him from moving away and his lips firmly planted on Shiro’s (and to keep Shiro from spitting the pill out.)

When Shiro finally got a grip on himself he weakly tried to push Lance off, the other complied and backed off slowly. Now instead of the storm cloud of horror clouding his thoughts, it was a mixture of embarrassment, confused giddy excitement, and a hint of arousal.

Lance immediately shoved Shiro’s helmet back onto his head.

“Lance?! W-what are you doing?” Shiro was still dazed but his mind was starting to catch up.

“First, I'm really sorry for kissing you out of the blue like that! But, uh, hey you're all better!” Lance gestured to the lower half of Shiro's body but immediately blushed then looked away.

Shiro’s eyes widened, he had legs again! He was back to normal at least back to how he was before he became a mer-dragon.

He squeaked realizing he was butt naked and quickly tried to cover his modesty.

“Here.” Lance held out his paladin armor to wear while shyly averting his eyes. He gratefully took it and put it on.

Shiro cleared his throat when he was finished to grab Lance's attention. “Thank you, Lance. Whatever you gave me changed me back to normal, well as normal as I could be. ...So aren't you going to do the same for yourself?” He also wondered why Lance needed to kiss him in the first place not that he wholly against it or anything.

“Uhh…” was all he got from the younger teen who turned slightly pretending to whistle. He was blatantly ignoring the question.

“Lance… please tell me that wasn't the last one.” Shiro’s voice was strained dread creeping up his skin.

“Ok, I won't tell you.”

“Lance!”

“I'm sorry- no wait I'm not sorry for giving you the last antidote pill because I wanted you to have it. And I knew you wouldn't take it if you knew it was the last one. So I took matters into my own hands.”

Shiro sighed heavily, “why?”

“Uh, cuz you're my friend and I care about you,” Lance stated like it was the most obvious answer. “Also you looked really uncomfortable with uh, the new changes. Honestly I'm fine if I have to stay like this for a few days til I get more or something. So you were the obvious choice in the matter.”

“Alright, fine.” It didn't stop him from feeling guilty though. “Who’s the person who gave you these ‘antidote pills?’ Actually why did they give it to you? Can you contact them? Where can we meet them?”

There were a lot of questions streaming from his leader but one thing caught Lance's attention. “‘We’?”

Shiro gave him a flat look. “Naturally I'm going with you. And you can’t walk around like that.”

Oh geez.

#shance #writings #i dont know what this is #just tried putting some meat on the bare bones of my idea #sorry if its confusing #temporary body modifications

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cantstopthesignal2005 · 5 years

Text

kill yr gods

Anton Stewart sat transfixed by the panels of the graphic novel he recently checked out from the school library. The odd, melancholic spell cast by the kitchen-sink realism of the story was broken as his Journalism teacher, Ms. Combs, snapped her fingers. “Anton. Anton! Excuse me! Hello! Thank you!” “Yes, ma’am?” “How are you coming along with your story? Kali needs it by Friday for the paper.” Anton looked over to Kali Wheatley, who sat hunched over with a large iced coffee, feverishly editing papers and adding comments. “Uh, I’ll have a rough draft tomorrow, Ms. Combs,” he replied. “Tomorrow? What happened to tonight?” “I’m going to the concert tonight.” “A concert? What?” “The Canceled Alcohol show,” he brusquely informed her, his voice carrying an unmitigated bite to it. “It’s the concert I’m covering for the story. And since I haven’t gone to where the story is yet, I don’t have the story.” Anton caught a few side-eyed glances and expressions of incredulity. “Smart ass,” she blithely retorted. “See where that gets you in life. See where it gets you in school, or even in this class.” Anton shook off his teacher’s cautionary attack with a brief, involuntary shudder. He returned to his poor posture and resumed the story. Comics were an integral part of Anton’s life. As a young child, he found solace in the altruism of the muscle-bound men and women who, burdened with great powers, sought to look after the meek and timid. He aspired to similar feats of greatness, albeit without any supernatural ability. Throughout middle school, Anton would obsessively write the phrase “I Will Grow Wings,” filling the lines of his composition notebooks. This was his mantra to remind himself of his personal endeavor to grow stronger and feel capable, soaring above his feelings of impotence. After discovering the cruelty of unprovoked violence and the ecstasy of masturbation, Anton rabidly tore apart the pages of his superhero comics, marking an estrangement from what he began to feel was the mythos of morons and losers. Reality bloomed as Anton reached tenth grade, where he was fearful of the impending future and consistently horrified by the mistakes of the past. Without a car or a job, he didn’t have money of his own and would constantly depend on his mother for rides or pocket change, a chip on his shoulder regarding his own lack of agency had spread like a fever. The stories to which Anton gravitated were confrontational and brutal, concerning entropy, alienation, and depravity. Unable to reconcile his anxieties and a lust for debauchery, Anton would vicariously approximate the insanity and genius of drugs by reading journals about the rough side of an acid trip at the devil’s hour. The bell rang and Anton somberly ambled down the steps of building three to the courtyard. It was his lunch period and he planned to meet his friend, Peter. Peter was a friend whose binding tie was a similar love of literature and art. They would occasionally skip school and go to their local dollar theater and movie hop. Anton was unnerved as he saw Peter surrounded by people peripheral to their social circle, holding court at a brick wall, waxing poetic about the perils of too much vulnerability and compassion. He was wearing a black shirt with an image of Joe Strummer with bloodied knuckles and a towel carelessly draped around his shoulders. Peter looked over the circle of friends and nodded Anton over. Characteristically overzealous, he extended his hand to shake Anton’s. “What’s popping, bruh?” “I’m good. How goes it?” “Yo, these are . . . this is Larry. This is Dom. This is . . . oh wait, you know Chaz, right?” “We’ve met,” Chaz curtly confirmed, gritting his teeth. Anton bristled at what he felt was an unmerited disdain. “Uh, yeah. Uh, we’ve met,” Anton said, through staccato bursts of nervous laughter. “What’s good, bro?” Peter asked, flashing his toothy smile, which appeared closer to demented than charming, as he hoped. “Um. Just . . . just saying hey?” “Well, you said Hey, kid,” Chaz said, rolling his eyes. “I’m talking to Peter. If I wanted to talk to you, I would look at you. Chaz. Your fucking parents named you Chaz! What kinda shit is that?” “You’re a fucking asshole, Anton.” “Aight, aight, chill, chill.” Peter locked eyes with Anton and with a nod, dismissed him. Anton walked off, shaking with the rage of rejection. He fought the urge to, as he had when he was younger, scream, curse, and beat his fists against the ground into bloody pulps. He wondered if remaining with his circle of friends was worth it. He tolerated the occasional hectoring and outburst if only to stave off loneliness; his friends were a means to an end, and whether they knew that was unimportant. Anton was made to feel little, but always assured himself that they were even lesser than him since he never needed them. The rest of the school day was an interminable slog, the only saving grace being that he would attend his first show later that night. As he approached the exit doors to the bus loop, Anton felt a firm tap on his shoulder. Violently whipping his head back, he saw his friend Alex, wearing a shit-eating grin. “Anton. Buddy. What’s up?” “What’s up, what’s up?” “What’s up. We were supposed to go to the diner, right? This is every Tuesday, we had plans, no?” “Fuck, you’re right, I was just . . . it didn’t feel like a Tuesday.” “Yeah, alright. So, we’re good to go?” “Sure are.” The two walked over to the school parking lot, which Alex was grateful to have a spot in. He was the subject of great envy in their orbit for being the first to get a car, a job, and a girlfriend; there had been innuendos of him losing his virginity before his teen years, though no one asked to verify. Alex’s relatively advanced social acumen inspired overzealous praise and myth making from his friends. Alex drove at reckless speeds to Lynn’s Diner, a 1950s Americana themed coffee shop. There were black and white images from the days of yore for much of the wallpaper, framed photos of notable figures like Frank Sinatra and Benny Goodman occupying what little wall wasn’t taken by signs that said “M A L T S,” “S H A K E S,” or “F R I E S.” Alex fiddled with the cylindrical straw container, delighting briefly in watching them umbrella. The two walked over to a booth in the far corner, the seats cherry red, the table was eggshell white with sporadic bursts of dots making no discernible pattern. Alex and Anton made it a habit to attend Lynn’s Diner every Tuesday at 3 PM, directly after school. Tuesdays was when the waitress, Greta, would be working, and they were as much a part of her ritual as she was a part of theirs, having become one of her regular guests, to the point where staff would tease her about it. (“Hey Greta! Your boyfriends are here!”) Alex and Anton waved off offers of menus, fully aware of what they wanted. Greta walked up to them, her hair a lot shorter than it used to be, dyed a fluorescent orange. “Hey, loves,” she said, putting her hand on her hip. “Two doubles, no onions, extra cheese, pickle spear on the side, two cherry colas?” “You practiced that,” Alex smirked. “You know I did,” she smiled coyly. “I ever tell you I was in theater?” “No, but I saw you as Puck when you did Midsummer Night’s Dream with my sister, Shirley.” “Your hair’s a lot shorter,” Anton abruptly remarked. Alex and Greta cocked their heads back, shocked by the jarring, unprompted comment. “Uh . . . yeah,” she said, visibly perturbed. “Yeah, it is. I uh, I cut it . . .” She self-consciously primped the ends of her hair and shook her head. “Uh, I’ll . . . I’ll be right back with your orders, love.” Alex shook his head disapprovingly, rolling his eyes. Leaning in, he whispered, “Probably shouldn’t just like . . . shout something out while two people are talking. You know what I mean?” “Yeah, but you said . . . you said it’s normal if someone like . . . it’s okay if someone inserts themselves into a conversation.” “Yeah, but you have to know when to do it.” “How would I know that?” “Trial and error. This? Not the right time. Now you know for the future.” Anton found himself resentful of the way people like Alex could float through life, aware of the right thing to say, when to say it. He would often conflate their confidence and sociability with arrogance. “I think I could get her number.” “Isn’t she in college?” “And you’ve never wanted to date a college girl?” Alex paused. “Or guy?” “I mean, yeah. But guy or girl . . . I don’t think it would be, you know, appropriate.” Greta brought out their order on a plastic blue tray, forcing a grin. She dropped the order off and left without her usual parting banter. Alex observed as Anton anxiously peered over to his watch. “That’s maybe the third time I’ve seen you check the time since we got here,” Alex said, his mouth full of fries. “What’s going on?” “Sorry. I have a show to go to tonight,” he explained. “Who are you seeing?” “Canceled Alcohol. I bought the tickets from Crates.” “Crates . . . Crates . . . Crates, the record shop, Crates?” “Yeah. Canceled Alcohol doesn’t really have a website or internet presence. I couldn’t cop them except locally.” “I’ve heard of them. I know their shows are supposed to be like fucking super intense. I heard someone got knocked into a fucking coma there once.” “Really?” “This is what I hear,” he shrugged. Anton began to panic, his mouth drying up, his heart palpitating. He forgot to bring anyone for support to the show, and if he met harm as he was sure he would, there would be no help. “Do you want to go?” he asked earnestly. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you earlier. I can buy—” “Nope,” he replied, unfurling a mischievous smile. “Why not?” “I think you should go this one alone. This one. I think, anyway.” The unspoken tension between the two was palpable, and so they completed their meal in silence. Anton became anxious with anticipation, expecting unspoken acts of violence to be visited upon him. He’d realized that, upon stepping foot into the venue, he surrendered his control to the crowd and to the band; Canceled Alcohol was a band Anton was used to listening to at his own control. He could turn their volume up, down, or truncate entire verses. The dynamic at the show would be diametrically swapped, his body now having to bend to the sway of the crowd and the ferocity of the band, which he assumed would be mighty; if his ribs were crushed, Anton was certain that the show would proceed without mercy. Alex drove Anton home, generously playing Canceled Alcohol before ultimately deciding they “weren’t my cup of tea.” Anton heard a vicious argument between his mother Marina and his brother Juan as he reached the front door. Knees shaking, he braced himself for the unfolding maelstrom. “You’re a fucking cunt!” Juan yelled. Whipping his head back, he saw his little brother and dismissed him with wave. He returned to the object of his scorn and balled up his fists. “You don’t have any idea what it’s like!” “You still have to work, Juan!” “Fuck you, bitch. I’m trying so fucking hard!” “Smoking resin out of PVC pipes with your drop out buddies isn’t effort! You don’t do anything! I didn’t raise you like this!” “You didn’t raise me at all! Abuela did! You lazy fucking bitch!” “You’re so ugly . . . you’re fucking . . . you’re just like him. You’re stupid and you’re lazy. And angry. And you’re angry because you know there’s no place in this world for stupid, lazy people.” Marina shivered and shrieked as Juan tossed a cup of stagnant water at her. She stood, frozen with indignation. “I fucking HATE YOU!” Juan made a beeline for the door, shoving Anton against the wall. Shriveling inwardly, he bit up the nerve to walk over to console his upset mother. Though Anton’s upbringing had been rife with turmoil, he failed to grasp the dialect of conflict and found himself at a loss for words. “Hey,” he said, his voice breaking. “Sorry.” Marina, wearing the humiliation of disrespect by her son, looked over to Anton with a fury scorching her face, her eyes bloodshot, her teeth jutting out from her lower jaw like a diseased dog; Anton went pale, unable to find his mother beneath her anguish. He rubbed his chest softly, hoping to nurse his racing heart back to normalcy. “I hate you!” she exclaimed. “You’re ruining my life!” Anton was fatigued from the day behind him, unwilling to contend with the mercurial tempers flaring in his house. While times spent with his mother were not all bad, he was frightened by how swiftly she could vacillate between Victim and Tormentor, just as he towed the line from Caretaker to Whipping Post. “Mom, I love you,” he said, disgusted at his impish attempt to placate her. “Yeah, your kind of love I don’t need.” She walked up their stairs, groaning. Anton took note that it was an hour and a half until doors. Despite having negotiated the ride several months prior, he was aware that it would take an immeasurable amount of consoling to get his mother to drive him there now. He’d considered his options briefly before grabbing his ticket and darting out the door to catch the number 48 bus going to Ardenton, a town he knew by reputation (their high school football team often beat his) only. The venue, he read on a worn and faded flyer, was The Empire, 1709 Waterhead Boulevard, Ardenton. (“Real Hole In The Wall Shit,” as crudely promised at the bottom.) He looked for any signs assuring him that he was on the right path, to no avail. As he shuffled through the streets, scanning the buildings for addresses, he came across a couple adorned in pelts, leather, and chains, and summoned the strength to approach them. As he neared, his eyes began fluttering, much to their bewilderment. “Excuse me,” he said, gentling his voice. “I was . . .” “Speak up, youngin,” the older woman said. “Yes, hi. I was um. I was seeing. I was. I was wondering if you knew where The Empire was?” “The Empire? Is that a store?” she asked. Her partner, a much younger woman, chuckled. “No, babe. It’s a concert place.” “I don’t know this shit.” “Sweetie, you’re gonna go up a block and two over.” “Oh, okay. Thanks . . . thanks so much.” “Who’s playing?” “Uh, Canceled Alcohol?” “Roughneck shit,” she grinned, nodding approvingly. “First show?” “Yeah.” “Fuck shit up, dude.” Her partner admonished her with a playful slap to the back of her hand. “Be careful!” she’d warned him, shaking her head. He politely laughed and walked off. Anton walked the blocks and clocked the addresses, most of the buildings’ aluminum numbers tarnished or fallen off completely. He was uncertain of the directions given to him until he noticed a procession of people walking in unison, murmuring amongst each other. Latching onto them, he made it to The Empire, a narrow building with a towering spire piercing the swiftly migrating clouds overhead. The marquee read: Princess Annie & Canceled Alcohol. 7 PM. Sold Out. A few groggy, disgruntled men wearing shirts bearing the venue’s name set up barriers, prompting Anton to look at his watch; noticing it was a quarter to doors, he grabbed the ticket and felt his heart flutter. His stomach began to churn, his mouth drying, gluing his tongue to the roof. An older, obese man began tearing tickets and allowing people inside, nodding happily at each person. Anton was swiftly approaching the front of the line, and he excitedly handed his ticket and made a beeline for the door before the formidable man’s hand blocked him. “Hold up,” he said, screwing his face. Anton felt innately that there had been a mistake, that he needed identification or a parental guardian, neither of which he had. “I gotta search you, first.” After a brief pat down, he was ushered inside. The walls were lousy with graffiti, faded stickers, and flyers from past shows. Stale cigarette smoke stuck to the walls as a reminder of past shows, the granite floor was sticky with the residue of spilled lagers. The air was thick and muggy, he struggled to catch a breath, which was exacerbated by the space becoming occupied to the point of congestion. Anton centered himself by navigating a way to the back, where there were life-size banners of Canceled Alcohol’s most recent album, Gag And Bind—a ghastly image of a dominatrix caving a hole into an old man’s head, bloody gray matter spilling onto the white backdrop, his eyes replaced with shimmering gold coins, his tongue hanging slack from his gaping mouth, spittle pouring out. As he looked at the sensational image, he felt immense feelings of guilt and desire, which he couldn’t reconcile. To his left, he saw two slovenly dressed young lovers under the spell of some dangerous pill they couldn’t pronounce, idly peeling paint from the wall, near catatonic. A tap at his bicep sent him shuddering, spinning around rapidly which elicited a laugh from the two young women who’d tapped him. Dressed in mainly all black, with the exception of some red stripes on their track pants and the white pentagrams on their shirts, one had aqua blue hair which reached just above her hair, the other had bleach blonde hair, the left side of her head shaved entirely. They both donned piercings across their face, the woman with the aqua blue wearing a nose piercing with a chain that reached to her ear. “Hi! Can you take our photos?” He obliged and took a few pictures of them: them holding their hands above their heads, them hugging, them kissing each other, them confrontationally staring into the camera with stoic fierceness. Handing it back, he smiled. “Thanks so much!” “Was that like, a photo set?” “We just wanted some photos of like, gay love. We’re a gay couple . . .” “Right.” “And we just felt like this was our non-violent protest. This was us, showing we can be gay and feminine and super sweet and hardcore and we can also enjoy the music. It’s not binary and we felt like it would be cool to show it.” “It’s for a project she’s making,” her partner explained. “She’s trying to normalize gay love by documenting it in unconventional places. This is her part where she puts us in the middle of it.” “I always show up in my art,” she said, defensive. “It’s my art and, intentional or not, I’m gonna be in it in some way or another, I can’t emancipate my expressions from myself, so I might as well implement myself.” “That’s fucking rad.” “Are you here for Princess Annie?” “Uh, no. Just . . . just Canceled Alcohol.” “They’re okay, we’re here for Annie, cause you know, they’re a really great part of the gay community in Seattle, so it’s kinda rad that they’re here.” The lights dimmed and the background music stopped. Everyone did an About Face and directed their gaze to the stage, which was massively unimpressive, being composed primarily of driftwood, electrical tape, and worker’s spit. Feet began to stamp on the ground, and aimless cheering and applause erupted. Princess Annie took the stage and the lead singer demurely waved to everyone as her bandmates readied themselves and took their positions. “Hi,” Annie Sutton, the lead singer, greeted everyone. “We are Princess Annie. And uh, we’re very happy to be here, thanks very much for having us. Um. Do you guys mind if we fuck shit up?” Her facetious request was met with thunderous approval, a mischievous grin unfurling on her face. The bass and drums began rolling out, cymbals being hit with great ferocity and Annie began to roar the lyrics to their song, The Stranger. The words were fully realized as she threw her body into the anguish of the song, her torso contorting, her arms wrathfully throttling the microphone. The orchestral hook allowed for some time to beat the device into her head, a bloody gash opening as she shouted:

If I catch you! If I ever fucking catch you! Death will be too good! But I’ll never be good! No, I’ll never be good! I’ll never be good again! I’ll never be fine again! Never go to bed again! Never again, not never again, Never again, not never again Not never-FUUUUUUUUCK Annie motioned for the crowd to make way for her to descend downwards and she gracefully stepped down. Anton was taken aback at how readily the crowd parted as though it were the red sea. Annie sewed sutures on the wounds she opened every night she sang the song which she knew would keep her honest. They washed her bloody face with love and adulation, crying with empathy, holding her to keep the panic away. She concluded the song by saying, off mic, “Thank You. Thank You So Much. I Love You So Much.” Making her way back to the stage, she sat hunched over at the edge, breathing heavily into the microphone. “Hey, our set is gonna be like me, it’s a little short. We only have about five songs left. Then you guys get to see Canceled Alcohol!” She held for applause, which filled the room. “You guys are gonna love ‘em. We’re so so so so so honored that they brought us out on tour with them, they’re so fucking cool. Really. They’re real roughnecks on stage but total sweethearts in person. They’ve even invited us to join their knitting circle.” Jessica, the drummer, etched a hammy smile on her face and played a rim shot. “This is our 49th state. First time in Florida!” “I’m sorry!” one person yelled out, which received some chuckles from the audience and an admonishing finger wag from Annie. “Hey now! We like it here. We like what we’ve seen. Well, we’ve only seen the inside of this venue. But, hey. It’s a nice venue. This uh . . . this next song is called Stupid Bitch. It’s about white guys. And please, all white guys. Don’t get upset when we play this, it’s never a good look.” Anton felt at home with the warmth of her generous stage banter. Everyone was experiencing exactly what he was, there was a truth to this moment in time and it was a sweaty, blood drenched woman believing in herself and engaging with four hundred disparate people. He knew he would never be alone if he remained in the comfort of human body odor and weed smoke. They soon left the stage which was to be empty for another forty minutes. Then, the lights dimmed once again and the crowd showed their love by bleeding their throats dry. The band swaggered on stage, and simultaneously Anton was delighted to be in proximity to such greatness and crestfallen to discover that they were a little short and appeared to be unassuming men, ready to do their job. However, once the front man, Sean, looked out to everyone, his eyes were searing and demented, striking fear. He took the pulpit and delivered his sermon:

Kill God if you feel like it, Kill me if you feel like it, Just make sure you know why, I’ll never be anything other than that which I am, I’ll only be a part of the plan, My body is a prison, Break me out of this prison, Take me out of this prison, The fury of the crowd reached a fever pitched, everyone being pushed to the front and shoving elbows into each other. Everyone edged everyone else out and a swirling vortex of pain erupted, young men in cargo shorts performing spinning kicks, their chests slamming into one another. Anton was reminded what it was like to feel vitality coursing through his veins as he was pushed into a snake pit of antagonism. He recalled placating his mother, contending with supercilious teachers, recoiling from his brother’s wrath, and how tired of it all he was. Something atavistic responded to the busted, bloody lip he suffered. He found his voice in pushing back and visiting violence onto others and receiving it, becoming baptized by pain. He screamed until his lungs felt on the verge of collapse. He knocked his head into someone else’s and gripped the back of their neck, being met in kind with an identical grip. “I love you!” he yelled, locking horns, knocking into him, shoulder first. “I love you too!” The ritual eventually petered out and the show concluded as plainly as it began, the band members departing with a cold casualness. Anton felt beautiful as he walked home drowning in a pool of collected sweat, the wind whipping against him as he shivered waiting on the bus. Creeping into his room, Anton confronted the new, primal version of himself and noticed a congealed patch of blood on his face. Removing his shirt, he was thrilled to observe the black and blue tattoos he received. The bumps, bruises, and scars served as a reminder of the fight he had to keep in his heart to refrain from timorously occupying the fringes of life. Galvanized to report on the part of the world he just saw, he swiftly grabbed the composition notebook and a pen from the computer desk, his foot anxiously tapping a hole in the ground as his hands, tremulous from adrenaline, wrote:

Tonight, I found God in the grooves of a combat boot.

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bigmouthbadsleeper · 6 years

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Is There An Emoji For That? (In Which I Explain My Relationship With Depression)

I’m having a hard time. It’s a Tuesday afternoon and my feelings are getting the better of me. My work schedule is one that provides me with Tuesday and Thursday afternoons off, which usually is great. I can fill that time with other things, like hair and makeup clients, errands, or housework. Even though those afternoons are technically time off from my job, I like to fill them with other kinds of work. I don’t like to have down time with nothing to do. It’s rare that I would be sitting on my couch, watching Netflix shows, getting lost on social media, or even reading a book. As someone with depression and anxiety, if I’m at home with nothing to do, my feelings get the better of me. I’m feeling a lot right now, on this particular Tuesday. I’m sad because my dog just died, and there’s this gaping hole where he used to be. I’m stressing over what I will write here, and if it will make any sense or help anyone. I don’t know what I’m making for dinner, or what I will have to buy from the grocery store in order to make it. I’m also lowkey invested in the smell coming from my fridge. I can’t figure out what it is. I’ve cleaned the fridge out multiple times in the last week but the smell is still there. It’s shocking, really. It bothers me but I’m also slightly impressed at whatever it is. Good hiding out, man. Way to hold strong. You’re driving me crazy, but I admire your persistence.

As I’ve gotten older, my relationship with my mental illnesses has changed. That’s right, fam. I said “illnesses”, plural. My depression and anxiety have always gone hand in hand. I used to think of my illnesses as something that I have no control over; like it’s something that just happens to me while I sit by, helpless. I used to feel as though my life wasn’t my own, like I was watching someone else’s life through one of those old Super 8 video cameras with the grainy, jumpy film. I really believed that I was powerless against my feelings, like they were an ocean that I was drowning in. Sometimes I still feel that way, but because of my healthier relationship with my illnesses, I know that I’m not really drowning. It’s important for us to have an understanding of our illnesses, whatever they may be, so that we can have a healthy relationship with them. In the emotion ocean, feelings come in waves. It’s just like my favorite bad boy poet John Mayer says, “Oh, honey. It’s just a wave. And I know that when it comes, I just hold on until it’s gone.” Though I can’t choose when the waves of depression or anxiety hit me, I can control whether or not I allow myself to be submerged. By learning how my illnesses affect me, I have been able to teach myself how to keep from drowning.

(i’m the sad ball on the L but also the v angry person on the R)

Everyone deals with mental illness in a different way. Some people garden or paint. Some wake up early every day and go to the gym. Some sing or write. Some of us do all of these things because we need all the help we can get. Medication is available when singing and gardening and painting aren’t enough. Though it is not a decision that should be taken lightly, there is no shame in seeking help from a medical professional and getting on medication. I was on medication for about five years in my early 20’s. The decision was a very hard one for me to make. It was also very upsetting at first. When my doctor suggested it, I cried and became angry with myself. I wondered what was wrong with me that I couldn’t just be happy on my own. What did I have to deal with that was so bad anyway? People all over the world were living much harder lives than I was, in much worse conditions. I felt very ungrateful for the life that I had. It took a while for me to be fair to myself, and to understand that though there are greater problems in the world than my own, that doesn’t mean that my problems aren’t valid or real. It is not selfish or ridiculous for me to get help when I need it, and it’s not weak to admit that I need it. We are not meant to do things alone, and we should use every resource we can to ensure that we are healthy, both mentally and physically.

(accurate.)

How can we know when we have more than “just” the blues? How are we supposed to know that what we are experiencing is more than just general sads? I always tell people that if you’re living a life inside your comfort zone because you are too afraid or sad to leave it, then it’s probably time for you to get extra help from a professional. I’ve always been a functioning sad person, meaning I still went to work and church like normal. I even had a calling in primary. But I was not okay, because after I did those things, I would hide out in my room and avoid going places where I had to see people I knew. I refused to do anything that scared or overwhelmed me at all. I wasn’t living, I was just existing. And you guys! Life is so much more than simply existing!

When dealing with and trying to manage mental illness, it’s important to know what helps or hurts you. Napping is one of my favorite pastimes in the whole world, and let me tell you I am very good at it. There was a time in my life where I described myself as a marathon napper. Napping is one of the things that depression has taken from me. I started to realize pretty early on in adulthood that every time I would nap on my days off, I would spiral into a very dark depression. Upon waking up I would become lethargic and irritated. I would look at myself in the mirror and hate what I saw. I would lose all desire or motivation to do anything for the rest of the day, and then when it came time to sleep for the night, I would be wide awake. Despite feeling this way, I continued to nap on my days off. I was angry that I couldn’t do what other people could do so easily. Why couldn’t my body and mind handle a nap? That didn’t seem fair to me, and it didn’t make sense. In a way it’s similar to how those with an addictive personality don’t ever get to drink socially or use drugs recreationally. Lots of people do these things and never become addicted. For someone with an addiction, every day is a struggle. Every day they have to think of other things to do to keep them from their vices. Depression works in a similar way. I’m not saying that I am addicted to naps, or that depression is the exact same as addiction, but there are similarities. There are certain things I have to steer clear from so that I can maintain a healthy mental state. I cannot stress enough the importance of a healthy sleep schedule when struggling with mental health issues. For me that means no more naps, and no more sleeping in. It’s so important for those of us that struggle with depression to have a bed time, and a set time when we wake up, regardless of whether or not we have things to do. The latest I ever sleep in is 8:00 in the morning, even when I don’t have work. Anything later than that, and I crash hard. My whole day is thrown off, and I get very little accomplished. A healthy sleep schedule helps me make the most of my time, so i can feel good about my day.

Exercise also really helps me to overcome my depression. I find that when I exercise regularly, I am happier, less irritated, and more kind to myself. It sounds crazy, but I literally see myself in a different light when I am physically active. My skin looks better, my body feels stronger, and my mind is clearer. I know that I am not my ideal weight right now- I’m not anybody’s ideal weight right now- but I don’t exercise to be a size two. I exercise so that I can function. About a month ago, I made a goal to get up at 5:00 every morning to run on the elliptical before work. I hate it so much, you guys. It is seriously so hard for me, but my day is so much better when I do it. I wish I could exercise after work, but I always find excuses not to. There’s always something going on that is much more fun than exercising, and I don’t want to miss out on time with my family and friends. I really don’t like losing the hour of sleep, but the results far outweigh the inconvenience of that lost hour. Getting up early is a much better way for me to get my exercising done. It’s just me playing tricksies on my mind, in a way, since I just roll out of bed (literally- sometimes I even crawl over to my shoes), put my exercise clothes on, and hop on the elliptical. I don’t have time to object or make any excuses not to do it. I never hit the snooze button because I’ve found that the extra nine minutes of sleep never make me feel more rested. Besides, the sooner I get on the elliptical, the sooner I can get off of it! If that’s not motivation I don’t know what is. My time spent exercising in the morning is not time lost or time away from those I love because who else is even up at five in the morning? Everyone is asleep except maybe my neighbor’s cat Albus, who is obsessed with me, and garbage men.

(very real, not fake, photo of me riding California Screamin’)

When I was 18 I went to California Adventure with my best friend. I had never been before but being the Disneyland fan that I am, I figured I would love the new park just as much. When I got there I noticed that lots of the rides were “grown up” rides. The big ride at that park was a roller coaster called California Screamin’. I liked roller coasters, but only the ones that didn’t go upside down, and this one went upside down. I wanted to have fun in the park, but also didn’t want to ride any of the “scary” rides. I only wanted to ride the rides that I was used to, that I felt safe on. Because of this, I avoided California Screamin’ for three whole days. I watched people get off it and wondered how anyone could ever have fun on a ride like that. I don’t even know what I was so scared of really, but this ride hovered over me like a black cloud. I wanted so badly to get up the courage to ride it, but I couldn’t. I had a pit in my stomach for the entire trip.

On our last day, I decided to take control of my emotions and ride it. It’s not like I became unafraid. I didn’t go on it because I was suddenly magically excited about it. I did it because it scared me so much it made me sick, and I hated that I had let my fear of the ride control me. I knew I had to ride it because I was afraid of it. It sounds stupid and small, but to me at that time, it was the biggest thing in my life. It really bothered me that everyone else was having fun on this ride and I sat on the sidelines, too afraid to go on it.

My best friend and I hopped in our seats together. I remember feeling so sick, thinking I was going to throw up. I was shaking, and I had talked to myself the entire time we were in line. I continued to talk to myself while we were waiting to take off. I’m sure my friend thought this was amusing, because she was laughing the whole time, but I didn’t care. I had to assure myself that I could do this, that it wasn’t scary, that I would survive. When the coaster took off I screamed so loudly that my lungs burned. The first drop came and it took my breath away so much that I made a heaving sound out of my throat that sounded like barfing, only no barf came out. My friend laughed, and eventually I started laughing too, because I was having fun. It was great! I was having the time of my life! I looked around and everything around me seemed more bright and beautiful than ever before. When the ride stopped, I couldn’t even believe I was ever afraid of it. I had so much fun I couldn’t even remember what the problem was in the first place.

(on the roller coaster of life, sometimes we are Kronk, sometimes we are Yzma.)

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that much like the ocean, that roller coaster was a metaphor for life. I LOVE METAPHORS FOR LIFE! There will always be a roller coaster in my life. Though not every challenge I face is as fun as riding an actual roller coaster, I am always better in one way or another after conquering my fear. Sometimes that roller coaster is speaking in church, sometimes it is making a phone call. Sometimes it’s going on a blind date, or confronting someone who has hurt me. Some days my roller coaster is something really lame, like finding what smells in the fridge. It was cheese, by the way, the thing that was making my fridge smell. A bit of cheese had fallen out of a baggie, and was hiding in the back of the meat drawer. I found it! Victory! Whether it’s a big roller coaster or a small one, the important thing is that we don’t let ourselves avoid the ride, we step up and embrace it. It’s funny, California Screamin’ is my favorite ride now. Even so, nothing will ever be as fun for me as my first ride was, because it was so much more than a ride to me that day. It was me saying, “NOT TODAY, ANXIETY!”, and taking control of my fears. It was bravery, in its own small way. Bravery is necessary for growth, and if we aren’t growing then we aren’t living. You know those posters you see in the halls in your school that say “LIFE EXISTS OUTSIDE YOUR COMFORT ZONE”, and then there’s like a picture of a cat in a tree or a bird flying through the air? Those are really dorky ways to tell you a very true thing. Living inside of a bubble isn’t living at all. So do you want to just exist? Or do you want to live? Ride your roller coasters. Scream all the way down if you have to, and when you’re ready, throw your hands in the air. I promise you, when it’s over you won’t even remember what you were so afraid of.

#depression #anxiety #mental illness

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