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ralucasalmostgone · 2 months

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so past the other teachers (that were more or less insane), I guess this is a good time as any to mention what the lecturers in Uni actually did in real life - cause you were confused about that

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not much tbh, cause the circumstances were so orchestrated that I didn't have to go through anything traumatic and such

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but you have to rely on my pristine perception here (like, I'm perceiving 24/7) and I'm not blind like a narcissist usually is so I don't jump to conclusions either nor do I accuse, I'm just perceiving - even if that means not reaching an end conclusion, you know what I mean?

also, nobody can see what I can see, unless they're perceptive and boys (only boys can perceive in parallel with me)

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so let's see, we had 4 main lecturers (3 males, one female)

I was kinda in a different mental space, according to all the control of me from the future, so I can't see that I'm willing to divide my authority studying-wise with anyone at that age - but I don't really have a choice (I need the diploma that shows I know animation)

so I'm just kinda pretending to care (like everyone else) about what they have to say, but I really don't!

I'm gonna do animation all by myself and that's the end of it!

I start "slipping" like so by not attending their lectures at all so...

(it would have been a waste of time anyway, according to everything I learned that I do things by myself anyway)

...

fine, now with this intro of me being a mini-House MD

you understand why the beastial lecturer crowd didn't stand a chance against me! 🙄

now, they believed I was just a regular girl and a girl! so you know they're arriving to conclusions based on beastial patterns of behaviour (brain-based intuition)

the first day I was a little late so I perceived they were staring at me and noticed me based on my physical apperance

by the time I reached the 2nd lecture (type of thing) several things happened:

so I told you there were 3 lecturers that were male, 1 that was female

now, they were disinterested in various ways

the female one was interested in being liked only (and having people comment and talk to her); she was obsessed with getting attention and having her ass kissed by someone - which was very easily noticed AND perceived (I might add) eventually by some other MALE students - who decided to only comment and talk to her to get high marks in everything; ...I was very House-like even then! I was like: I will never do this (!) That's the most UNLIKE me thing ever! I remember her getting excited over maybe forming some connection through TALKING or doing SMALL TALK (which I don't do - just like House, I don't like making small talk if I don't have to and I didn't feel like this is the type of thing that's ever gonna be forced upon me because I felt my control strongly: what is she gonna do? punish me for not giving a shit about her?) In a sense, she did make sure she would by making me the equivalent of students that couldn't draw and yet talked to her - so she felt pity for them! But in the process she gave them the same marks as me and they still did not like her more! And one of them ends up complaining about her not even teaching him how to draw! (despite the equivalent mark she received from her) So I did that for him instead, I replaced the lecturer this way. And I realised that though I don't give a shit about her course or her she did mess with my marks randomly - much like many before her 🙄 So I was so used to it by now, I still didn't give a shit about her opinion. I drew something in the spur of the moment that was a little bit strange and Van Gogh-like (I was in a mood and if you remember, I'm a prodigy when it comes to drawing) and then she started getting overly praise-driven around me. It didn't move me whatsoever. I don't care about her opinion about my art since...she doesn't actually have the background of it or her own noteworthy experience or because of the fact that she's only concerned with getting liked by me instead! 🙄 Cause if she had any of these valuable pieces of information, then she'd know I had never drawn before several things that were done really well in the spur of the moment, in fact, for most of my amazing shit, I don't even have any training! It just comes to me! But she doesn't know and I just stopped caring about trying to find answers from people I don't even respect intelligence-wise, when it comes to why I'm so good at everything without even trying! 🙄 So at that point, I feel an apathetic drive to never share anything with any authority figure, especially if they never know more than I do, in fact they demonstrate they know so little! - and she's not teaching how to draw either which only reinforces my POV, you get me? So I just kinda don't care about her till this day...and that's why she's stalking: because she cares waaay too much about others' opinion.

now next up, though this lecturer was only interested in getting approval from me originally because of my physical apperance alone, she kinda tried to move on when the other male students started tailing her and giving her, her wanted attention

I did her silly assignments quickly, like 10 - 30 minutes before the deadline, whenever I remember they existed and just wrote that shit quickly right before the thing

I got bored by the time I reached the other modules: photoshopping or sculpting because the interface of the software was being made through my mind so I could find the tools easily

and then I'd get bored cause I would get it too quickly (without previous experience)

and then the students in the lab that had been doing sculpting for months and couldn't use the tools would drop by behind me and be envious as hell, cause I had never tried the software yet it was 2nd nature already...

and that got me blocked again: this was no challenge whatsoever, all over again!

but when she made sure the criteria for the photoshopping marks were not clear enough and gave me a random mark again, I knew it didn't matter what I did in sculpting all over again: she would just give me a random mark again

so I just like submitted a random unfinished project all over again... 🙄

honestly, don't blame me for learning from my own intuitive patterns that started from high school that it doesn't matter what I do in school! 🙄

I'm a perfect straight A student (objectively-speaking) - don't blame me for noticing it only matters to me! and nobody else around! 🙄

to the point where they would rather just fuck up my grades!

why should I put more effort?:

it was too easy to get there to a place that it takes people several months!

who the fuck am I that I disappear from photography? + number 2. why is it so easy for me?

THIS doesn't matter anymore! (the grading system - when you know what you know about yourself!) they're giving me grades of 60 for my 10% effort in something! 🙄 who am I????*

*also, I'm not a 60 in anything, you idiots! 🙄 you should be ashamed of yourselves at this point! giving your knowledge dispenser the same grade you don't even match yourselves! 🙄

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kojinnie · 3 years

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Why you should NOT date AOT boys...

Headcanon on what kind of headache you're bound for when dating the AOT boys, and why I advise you NOT to date them! Enjoy, loves!

levi - eren - armin - reiner

part two here | erwin - zeke - jean - connie

— LEVI

He's an incredible man with a lot of talents and he'd be doing real good at his job, that dating him would give you a huge sense of pride. However, this man suffers from being emotionally constipated. He'd always keep you in the fine line of "are we or are we not?", even though you’ve been seeing each other for a long time. He’d never say “I love you” or any type of flashy display of affection. His love language is acts of service and quality time, so if you’re the type to wanting outward reassurance of how someone feels about you, Levi’s not gonna be the person to give you that.

This problem stems from his deep, unresolved insecurity about the nature of relationship. It’s not just the “Am I good enough?”, he genuinely thinks that he is not a good person, and thus the inherent belief that everybody will abandon him in the end — something he picks up from his traumatic childhood. He’s wary about establishing relationship because he’s afraid to succumb into his own feelings and vulnerability. He fears at certain point he has to feel and suffer the emotional consequence of being left by someone he cares for. He dreads the idea of getting caught off-guard with being fragile.

You gotta be extremely patient and understanding when it comes to Levi, the reassurance needs to come from you, and frequently too. Bluntly saying, “I’ll stick around” or “I’ll accept your shortcoming” is really soothing for Levi, because although he never shows it, he really thinks he does not deserve you.

— EREN

If you wanna be frustrated in a relationship where you constantly feel like you’re in an endless coaster, then dating Eren gotta be your poison. Sure the honeymoon phase was intoxicating, sure he makes you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. The morning text, the playful neck peck out in the public, the butterflies you feel in your tummy when you catch him staring at you even from afar with those oh so enthralling green eyes. But once the honeymoon phase over, Eren is quick to get bored. Especially if you’re an unproblematic, matter-of-fact type of person. Eren likes to fight, he gets thrilled by it, and he’s high with the rush of adrenaline. He likes it if you’re jealous, if you sulk, if you argue. He likes you to be ‘childish’ because then he gets to be the adult, the savior, the knight in shining armor. It grinds his gears. If you’re unfazed by his antics, if you’re easy to forgive, if you’re chill, Eren will think that you’re not really into him, and will exit the closest door out before his ego gets bruised even further.

Eren is sort of babied by people around him – his parents, his friends, and constantly being compared to his older brother doesn’t help either. He realizes that he got saved a lot of times by a lot of people. And this creates a deeply rooted insecurity with him that turns into an incessant impostor syndrome. The constant thought of not being good enough and the idea that all the achievement he’s ever got was the result of someone else’s help really crush him. You can shower him with praises and reassurance, but he would completely dismiss it, because he thinks your compliments are not based on objective views and that he does not deserve it. He painfully seeks for approval from any authority figure that (he thinks) does not have any emotional connection with him. And it can be really hurtful when he constantly dismisses your sincere compliments while desperately chasing from others who don’t care about him.

— ARMIN

It’s really hard to hate Armin. He’s a really nice man through and through, but what is his strength can also be his deepest weakness. He’s too nice and unsure about a lot of things. He knows he is knowledgeable, but he often doubts himself for being too ‘text-book smart’. Which is a valid cause, because at times he would get very oblivious to how relationship works, and treat feelings like it’s a quantifiable system. It will literally take years for him to finally get down and say how he feels about you, because all these times he was so busy filling the check-list in his mind to convince himself whether you truly like him or not, even though you couldn’t be any clearer with your intention towards him.

He is perceptive with what you think and how you feel, unfortunately this does not materialize into any action as he doubts his own intuition when it comes to his significant other. He fears that his own sentimentality has affected his intuitive judgment and thus deems it invalid, which is completely untrue because every hunch he has about you has always been accurate! That’s just how much he understands and knows you from years of quietly observing and taking each of your word into account.

He really relies on you sitting him down and telling him in details how you feel and the things you expect from him. He will do it, in a flash with no hesitation, but really, he just needs that verbal affirmation that he is doing the things that you want, and it’s not just based on his assumption. So, if you like sweet surprises, impulsive dates and expect your significant other to read your mind, Armin might not be the person.

— REINER

Oh my, truthfully, he is such a sweetheart, and can be completely smitten for the entirety of his life if he has found that one person. However, it’s a treacherous road for both Reiner and you to get to that stage. Initially, when you start to get closer to him, he may seem rigid and uninterested. The first date you had with him probably went awkward and although you really liked him, you were pretty sure he didn’t like you back, until he texted you the morning after, asking for a second date. That’s basically how being with Reiner is, a series of you being sure that he feels nothing towards you, only for his following action to prove the otherwise. He is really awful in displaying his emotion, he tries to be stoic all the time, and it often frustrates you because you cannot really tell how he feels, and you fear that you might have hurt him without realizing.

He may start to open up, only when you open up first about yourself. He thrives in romance with someone who he thinks shares his inner pain, and that’s very important for him, because he is always in a position where everyone expects him to be strong, and to have a significant other that understands his struggle is all he wants. But this gets hard for you, because sometimes Reiner’s sadness can be quite extreme and you cannot match that. Once Reiner realizes that you’re not on the same boat, he may become withdrawn, as he thinks he’s a burden and inadequate for you, and may end up self-sabotaging the whole relationship he has with you.

Although he does not like to admit it, but Reiner often slips into his sadness too deep, that it almost seems like he victimizes himself with his self-hatred. He will be the one to say stupid shit like, “You deserve someone better.” Or “I cannot make you happy.” When in fact you are perfectly willing to be with him all the way through.

With Reiner, you gotta be the bigger person, with bigger gestures and bigger patience. It’s because Reiner needs an anchor and a figure to lean on. In returns he would be the best lover that you will ever have for he is selfless and will be helplessly devoted to you.

Racking my brain writing for the rest of the boys (Erwin, Jean, Connie, Pocko) because they're the ones we SHOULD date.

Update: Thanks thanks thanks for everyone who read this! I received a lot of love and you dunno how much this encourages me to keep going. Anyway, 2 things:

- My Masterlist

- Talk to meeee ♡

[ON-GOING REQUEST EVENT]: Kojinnie's 200 Followers Celebration - 24/7 Writing Event

#aot headcanons #snk headcanons #levi headcanons #eren headcanons #armin headcanons #reiner headcanons #levi ackerman #eren jaeger #armin arlert #reiner braun #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot levi #aot eren #aot armin #aot reiner

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magicalshitposts · 3 years

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The boy finds home

(If you wanna read on AO3 and avoid Tumblr’s awful text formatting Click Here)

The small outlier sat in the corner of Kohga’s throne room, ignoring the commotion in the middle.

“Look newbie, I don’t know what you want to do with the brat but he’s not my problem.” Kohga declared to the foot-soldier who stood in front of his throne.

“But Master, he’s just a chi-“

“Not. My. Problem.” Kohga shooed the man away, and the solider had no choice but to comply, “Boy, come over here.”

The boy did not. In fact, he made no movement at all, acting as if Kohga was not in the room.

“Boy.” Nothing still, “At least tell me your name then.”

The boy spoke for the first time, “Why? If you’re just gonna chuck me out.”

The man on the throne sighed, “Well I am the great Master Kohga. Now you know my name, tell me yours.”

Again, the boy did not.

“Kid, I have better things to do in life then sit around and wait for you to talk.”

The child spoke again, “Then do them, ‘cause your gonna be waiting a long time.”

“Why you aggravating little- Kohga stopped himself, this was a child after all- Keep calm Kohga, keep calm”

He stood himself up from his throne, “Fine, have it your way.”

Kohga was just leaving the room as a spark of panic flooded through the child. He didn’t want to be alone, not again. “I don’t know.”

Kohga turned his head back, “You don’t know what?”

“My name. I don’t know it.”

“Well that’s sad.”

“Yeah – the kid looked towards the man, puzzled– I know.”

The boy had stayed there that night, and the next, and the next and then for a week. It had become clear to the Clan that this boy was staying, if only for a while.

“SOOGA! COME OVER HERE!” Master Kohga’s voice shrilled through the halls surrounding his bedroom late one night and his right-hand man appeared beside the man’s desk in a such small time it made Kohga jump.

“Master Kohga, How may I be of assistance.” Sooga asked looking down to Kohga.

“Firstly by easing up a little, sheesh.” Kogha gestured to another chair in the room and took off his mask, getting Sooga to do the same, “Sit down, your gonna be here a while.”

Sooga sat but by no means looked more comfortable.

“Right then, the boy.” Annoyance dripped in Kohga’s voice. He clearly did not want to be having this conversation, which was a surprise to Sooga. Normally if the Master didn’t want to have a conversation, he just wouldn’t. Why was this different?

“What about him?” Sooga pushed for Master Kohga to finish his thoughts.

“If he’s staying here, he’s going to have to be called something other than ‘the boy’.” Kohga leaned on the back on his seat, his legs too short to touch the ground.

“He does not have a name though, Master.” Sooga watched apprehensively as Kohga swung back and forth.

“Exactly, so what am I getting at?”

“I’m… not sure.”

“C’mon Muscles, dig down in that cavern of a brain.”

Sooga was bothered at this comment. Everyone knew that he was the brains of the operation. The entire clan would be dead if it weren’t for him, especially when Master Kohga got put in charge. Now, Sooga didn’t want to take credit away from Kohga, in fact that was the last thing he wanted, but Kohga knew that Sooga was far from an unintelligent man and he would appreciate the recognition.

Sooga caught on.

“Please tell me you aren’t suggesting we name the child, Master?”

“Bingo, Big guy!”

Sooga looked bewildered by the proposal.

“Sir, with all due respect are-“

“No respect needed lackey; this is what we’re going to do.”

“Sir. Listen to me.” Kohga glanced towards his right-hand man, “by naming this child we claim a sense of responsibility for him, whether we like that or not. Are we prepared to care for a child? Is the Clan prepared to care for a child?”

“Come off it Sooga, you’re making us sound like a married couple.” Kohga laughed completely ignoring the question.

“Master Kohga.”

Kohga sighed. “I don’t know, but the kid’s staying now so it’s a bit too late to be asking that question. And anyway, ‘we’ aren’t caring for anything, I’ll still be preparing to the Great Calamity’s revival and you’ll still be assisting me or whatever, we’ll leave the boy under the Clan’s care. I’m sure with the hundreds of them there are, they’ll cope with one measly kid.”

Not the answer Sooga wanted but he must settle for what he got.

“Now, names!”

The conversation carried on for a while, discussing the different names for the child. They first threw out a few random suggestions, none of which sat properly. Sooga suggested Hayle, Kohga suggested Sooga start thinking of good names before he’s kicked out.

The ideas were just a melting snowball before Sooga stated “He’s Sheikah, isn’t he?”

Kohga tapped his chair, “I mean, yes with that hair but it’s not like he knows. Why?”

“We could name him after the Sheikah naming conventions.” Sooga suggested.

“As a Yiga Master this goes against every one of my core values.” Sooga laughed lightly at the Master’s response to his suggestion. “And who would name their kid after fruit anyway, it’s ridiculous.”

“To us maybe, but this boy isn’t Yiga. We should respect his culture Master Kohga.”

Kohga rolled his eyes all too dramatically before giving in.

“Fine. We’ll call him Apple.”

“Master, Sheikah name’s derive from fruit, they aren’t directly named after it.”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Kohga jumped off his seat in his excitement, “We should name him after the mighty banana. He could be called like, Na…Bana… yeah, Bana?”

Sooga just stared towards his boss.

“Fine maybe not, but my fruit Knowledge is not too great y’know!”

Sooga looked around Master Kohga’s room, for any and all inspiration that may come his way. His eyes settled on a tiny, framed painting, one that the Master insisted he hated but had never put away. He felt like Master Kohga’s notion towards this painting may be similar to the one of the child.

“How about after strawberries?” Sooga suggested.

“Oh don’t tell me your looking at that horrible painting- Sooga smiled endiringly- What would we even call him, Strawman?”

Sooga thought about it.

“Robbie.”

“How’s that connected to Strawberries? Strawberry… straw-robbie… Oh! that’s actually nice.”

And it was decided.

The boy was no longer just ‘The boy’, but was Robbie.

He woke up early in the morning, as he normally did. It took him a minute remind himself he was safe… ish. He wasn’t in the forest preparing to go rummage in the trash for food, so it was a step up in his book. He had been told to sleep in the dungeon, in one of the cells. This didn’t make him feel all too comfortable, but the cell door stayed open so that’s nice. He walked around, with aim of going to the mess hall for food. But the Yiga Hideout was windy and treacherous for someone who didn’t know it, especially to the mind of a small boy. He got lost far too quickly for his liking, so looked for landmarks as he did in the wild. He recognised the frog statue that had a crack in its head, it was different than the rest. He was on the right track. He passed the hallway with the holes in the ground (he didn’t know what those were for, but they looked menacing) and then took a left and he was completely and utterly lost. Crap. It wasn’t his fault, all the rooms here looked the same, how was he supposed to know the difference. He was surprised that the people who lived here could tell the rooms apart. He sat down in the dark dingy hallway and waited. There were loads of people in this place, someone would pass him eventually.

While the boy waited for another person to see the light of day went to the closest room and examined. It’s what he did best. He decided to go over the room top to bottom. From the ceiling to the walls, he would know this room better than anyone who lived here by breakfast.

It was big. That felt like a good start. It was huge in fact. The boy knew it may just be his brain playing tricks on him as he was so small, but the hole in the middle of the room must have been the size of at least 20 moblins. A fact for you, the boy did not have the best idea of size.

The boy felt himself getting wrapped up in this room, wanting to know every secret it could ever hold. Why was there a hole in the middle? Why put a lantern over the hole, what if it fell in? How did they make the actual room round? Bricks are square! He had so many questions for this room, all of them he wanted to answer himself, through his own intuitiveness. But that opportunity was cut short by the huge man with kinda dumb hair.

“There you are boy. Come now, you’re needed.”

“Why?” The boy asked.

“Master Kohga needs you in his office.” The big man, who the boy remembered was called ‘Sooga’, put out his hand for the boy to take. He just looked at it.

“I can’t leave. I’m not done yet.”

“Done with what?” Sooga knelt to be on The boy’s level. Patronising.

The boy rolled his eyes at the fact Sooga didn’t know, it was pretty obvious to him what he was doing, “Examining the room. I still have questions to ask it.”

Sooga didn’t quite understand what the child meant but played along anyway. “Could you ask them after the Master talks to you?”

“No, I need to do this first. I’ll forget the questions otherwise.”

Sooga reflected. Normally people here would drop everything if Master Kohga needed to talk to them, but this boy wasn’t a Yiga. He didn’t know the importance of the Master.

“Well the Master needs to talk to you now,” The boy was about to protest before Sooga cut him off, “So how about we write down the questions you want to ask. Then you’ll remember them for after. I can help answer them too, if the Master allows it.”

The boy thought about it. He had never even considered writing his questions down, mainly due to the fact he didn’t know how to read or write, but if this Sooga guy could help him, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

“We need to write them down now though.”

“Of course.”

One wrong turn! He was one turn away from the mess hall! And sure, he was glad he made the wrong turn, otherwise he wouldn’t have found that cool room, but he was still annoyed at himself. Sooga had stopped in front of a big red door.

“Behave, okay.” He looked to the boy, who rolled his eye’s in response.

“It depends if he says something dumb or not.”

“Boy.” Sooga’s voice got stricter, “Behave.”

The boy shuffled where he stood, tears forming at the sides of his eyes. He didn’t like getting told off.

“Master, I’ve got him.” Sooga entered the room, ushering the boy to do the same.

“Boy! You’ve been a right pain in my side!” Kohga was sat at a heightened table, eating a banana. He pointed to the chair opposite. The boy made no sign to sit down so was guided to the chair.

Kohga raised an eyebrow, but the boy couldn’t see it behind the mask, “Where have you been?”

“In that cool circle room.” He answered, the thought of his questions came back to him, “Actually can this be quick, I still have questions to ask it.”

Sooga sighed and placed a hand on the child’s shoulder, prompting him to stop. The boy moved away from the touch.

“You hungry?” Kohga pointed to the bowl of bananas on the next table over. The boy shook his head, why were there so many tables if it was one guy’s room?

“Your loss, anyway. I got some news for you. After a week of you being here, I don’t think I’d be forgiven if I sent you back into Hyrule. So, welcome to your new home.”

The boy looked confused.

“What?” He said.

“What?” Was the only answer that Kohga gave back.

“What do you mean, ‘welcome to your new home’?”

“I mean, you can live here. With us and the clan,” He looked to Sooga who just shrugged in response.

“Why?” The boy asked another question.

“Well done kid, you know the 5 W’s.” Kohga paused, “What do you mean why?”

“You were talking about kicking me out only a week ago. What’s different now?”

“Kid, you only arrived a week ago. Of course I wasn’t keen on keeping you around then, but let’s say I’ve warmed to you. You aren’t half bad, and as long as your not a little… pest, you can stay.”

The boy paused. The thought of a home. In his brain he was jumping for joy, so this was home now. Home.

“Thanks.”

“Well that’s news one out of the way-“

The boy jumped in his seat, “There’s more?”

Kohga laughed a little, maybe childhood excitement was more contagious than he thought.

“Yeah, there’s more.”

The child waited in anticipation.

Kohga was really playing it up now, “So, I’m guessing your getting pretty sick of people calling you ‘the boy’”.

The child shrugged in response, “I guess I’m used to it now. It doesn’t really bother me.”

Ouch. Well if that didn’t tug on Kohga’s heart strings. “Well you definitely don’t like not having a name. I could see that from the day I met you. So, if it’s not too imposing or anything. Me and good ol’ Sooga here thought of one for you. Robbie.”

The boy and Sooga had the same look of surprise, but one was hidden by their mask. Sooga wasn’t expecting credit for the child’s name. If he didn’t feel a sense of duty before, he did now. Sooga was a loyal soul and vowed to himself right then and there to protect this child, Robbie, with his life.

robbe. robby. Robbiy. Robbie. A name all of his own. Given too him by the people who he now shares a home with. Holy Hylia. Robbie was now crying. Normally he was good at holding back emotions, tears would form but never stream down his face. He’d be over it before it mattered. This however was so entirely different. He was crying. Sobbing at the idea of having a home, of being Robbie. 7 years he’d just been ‘boy’ or ‘child’, maybe that affected him more than he once thought. Because having Sooga kneeling in front of him saying “It’s okay Robbie, you’re alright” put a band aid on his scared, damaged soul. And it would be one of many as he became a part of a family.

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

I really enjoyed writing this, It’s cute wholesome fun and I will definitely be writing more of this AU.

Also god bless This Post by 7spaceace7. I wouldn’t even know where to start about writing the hideout so this was such a help.

Anyway, have a nice day!

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xplrvibes · 2 years

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I have a feeling the majority might not agree with me, but this last video of snc really annoyed me. I do believe everyone is capable of having sensitivities to spaces but you cant just say i feel this and automatically pin point your gift to where you walk around from room to room and you’re capable of immediately feeling energies change. Katrina was being a total Amanda and being influenced by all of them.

People take years to perfect their gifts and get total grasps of it but Katrina joins her bf for a few videos, gets told shes an empath and suddenly she’s Amanda walking around like an expert. I don’t know what their aim is with pushing that, they have the ability to bring actual professionals but are using friends and hoping they have a reaction that proves something is there.

Actual paranormal investigators do extended research on places and do anything they can to debunk things. They even go into a space with the minset of a skeptic but with these boys any movement is paranormal and any gust of wind is a reaction for Katrina. Her legs were cold okay and she was standing in front of a window, did she bother checking to see if it was open… nope.

One of snc's recent videos that I really, really enjoyed was the Villisca Axe Murder House. The reason I enjoyed that so much, I think, was because they a) did thorough research, b) spoke to historians and experts on the subject of the house, c) tried to debunk their equipment going off whenever it did actually start acting up, and d) let their intuitions and feelings guide them, without letting them and their egos take over and get in the way.

And maybe this is why I disliked this newest video so much- because I see what they are capable of doing so when they regress into this kind of sloppy work, it's all the more noticeable.

But yes, agreed- this video was very, very heavy on the mindset of "everything is paranormal," and while that's good for entertainment purposes, it's not really going to help you build credibility.

As far as Kat is concerned- I do also believe her when she says she's sensitive to energies and what have you. This has been something she has been speaking about for years, and it's something I truly dont think she's lying about. Up until these past two episodes, I really had 0 issue with her intuitive nature, tbh.

I really think what happened here, was a case of someone not being able to get out of their own way. Too many people were hyping her up as this all powerful empath, and the more her brain and her excitement latched on to that, the more logic and her true sixth sense went out the window. We've all been there in life, right? We all want to feel special. Nothing more special than being connected to the spirit world, am I right?

She needs to talk to a professional who will help her gain an understanding of her sensitivities, and how to manage them. This would include how to remain in her own head and not start reaching above and beyond what her feelings and intuitions are telling her.

I also think Amanda would benefit from something like that, btw (and my psychic ladies that I watched on youtube sort of said the same thing).

Get out of your own way. Put away that ego part of your brain that is all excited about having super powers or whatever, and actually try to lean into the real feelings you do have.

#asks

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dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram · 3 years

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Hi Ralph. I’ve been catching up on your blog this morning (as one does, I highly suggest a quick perusal of the New York Times, Washington Post, New Yorker, The Guardian and … Dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram for a snapshot of what’s happening the world) and your response re: the stories we tell, and the story of intra-band relationships caught my eye. Reading your thoughts on the relationships all of the boys have with each other was really interesting and brought a lot of joy to my morning, and I agree with your thoughts in large part. Your version of Harry/Liam dynamic especially both made me laugh and struck me as incredibly true. It is exactly how I imagine their relationship, and the description of the two of them as magnets chasing each other around the table made me actually honest to god laugh out loud.

But your thoughts about Harry being someone who finds directness and messiness quite stressful and responds by withdrawing resonated with me on a personal level, and made me think back to another question you answered (at least I’m fairly certain it was you) about mental health in the boys. You said something to the effect of you personally didn’t see much anxiety in Harry/the way Harry presents himself but you know others might. I actually see a fair bit of anxiety in Harry, in ways I recognize from my own experience with anxiety. In particular I see a lot of myself in the various ways Harry responds and reacts to other people, and your thoughts about how Harry and Liam interacts is a good example of that. I’m not sure I’m going to be very successful in my attempt to put this into words, but I will try. Other people, as a general rule, make me incredibly uncomfortable and bring me a lot of stress and always have. To be clear, I am not saying this is the same for Harry, in fact I believe it probably isn’t (he seems to be someone who really enjoys interacting and connecting with a lot of people, at least on a surface level). But one of the things that most freaks me out is that other people all want or need something from me. While I have a therapist who has been indescribably wonderful in helping me understand that most of that is actually my perception of other people and not always reality, the fact still remains that in every interaction I have with other people there’s always part of me that is wondering “what do they need from me, what do they want from me, how do I give it to them, how have I already failed to give it to them, how do I fix it, can I even fix it” and on and on and on. Once again, I am not trying to say that this exact experience of mine has also been an experience of Harry’s. That would be hugely presumptuous and pretty self centered and also based on no real identifiable facts. I’m saying this mostly as background, to explain that I am a person who struggles a great deal with anxiety, and a great deal of that anxiety is fueled by my perception that other people are always wanting/needing things from me that I may or may not be able to give them. On its ugliest days, this anxiety results in me just withdrawing entirely. This is especially true when I am dealing with someone who feels emotionally volatile or unpredictable (I.e. … messy) and/or someone who I don’t feel safe making mistakes around (often these are people who tend to communicate in ways that are especially direct, but that read to me as abrupt, cold, or callous). In these situations, I feel like I am set up for failure from the jump - these people want something I am absolutely unable to give, my inability to give it will piss them off, they’ll turn all those messy emotions on me or get angry with or be cruel to me, and so it’s best if I don’t bother. I get short of breath, my heart rate increases, I become nauseous and fidgety and my response is to just leave. Just bail on the person and the situation and hide myself away. There are certainly situations where this is my brain being a bully, and there are situations where this is a valid read on the particular person or situation. But in general, for me, personally, this is a manifestation of my anxiety that I deal with almost every day. I see it pretty clearly in Harry, too. I realize I may be projecting, my perception ≠ the only possible reality, and I am not arrogant or foolish enough to believe it does. I may be totally wrong. But those are my experiences and my observations, and I was reminded of them in the context of your old ask this morning.

Thanks so much for this anon - it's really lovely and interesting and I'm sorry it took me so long to reply. I really love telling stories about the different relationships within 1D and I love hearing that they resonate. So thanks so much.

I find your thoughts about Harry really interesting. And they resonate with an anon I answered yesterday. And one of their assumptions was that Harry had never felt unloved a day in their life. I can see where they're coming from, but I don't think it's true.

That is I think, one of the interesting things about Harry is that so much confidence radiates out of him. Even just the way Dermot used to talk about him on X-factor as the most confident person he'd ever met, and it's not like anything has changed. But at the same time you get these moments and these glimpses where you realise that there is an anxiety - not necessarily underneath, but somewhere in the middle of all that confidence.

What you say about your experiences I think is really useful for Harry. I think one of the differences is that Harry has always been confident that he can give people what they want or need from him. And it's something that's got easier as he's gotten older. If you're Harry Styles it's actually very easy to make people happy. I do think he's very much figured out that being kind from a position of power is a very powerful mood (that doesn't require that much work).

But I suspect what all means that when his anxiety comes up - when he can't make people happy and give them what they want - then he's not very good at dealing with it (and he does withdraw). There is a little bit of compulsion to me in the idea that everyone must think good things about him. I think there is more in common with him and Lima than you'd think in some ways (makes sense that's why they're magnets). But Harry is much better at masking what's going on, and he's much more intuitive at making people happy than Lima is (who is always a little too literal).

Anyway I hope your life has been very good since you wrote me this anon. You seem super aware and perceptive and I really enjoy it.

#When I said that I didn't see the anxiety #I meant that pretty literally #Like I can tell it's there #but it's so different from the way I navigate the world #that it can be really hard for me to recognise #I've never been very good at becoming what people wanted from me #so the ability to do that #seems to me to be a sign of great confidence #even though intellectually I know there's a lot else going on

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arimendoza · 4 years

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to the anon who asked this: It’s loving cedric diggory hours in my brain so I’d love to read you venting your headcanons about him?? What do you think about his childhood and family and friends and what happened to them after (because Cursed Child isn’t canon)

tumblr deleted ur ask RIGHT as i posted it and im so sorry i hope u still see this bc i love it so much thank u for giving me an excuse to write about my favorite character :(((

i have a lot of feelings about cedric diggory

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it’s always been one of my biggest headcanons that cedric is a slytherin secondary

we see him as being kind. he is kind. and good. and brave. but he’s also ambitious, driven, resourceful. cedric diggory is a strong leader. but his determination is a double-edged sword, and his ambition can become ruthless:

"i thought you were gonna let it get me." / "for a second there i thought the same."

so kind, yet with this underlying, almost desperate self preservation and ambition that he might not even realize isn't his

“he could have been anything.” but what does that mean? what did he want? or was he too busy thinking of what everyone else wanted?

because this is cedric diggory as we see him: composed, polite, the ideal and ultimate gentleman. intelligent, compassionate, reliable. powerful, intuitive, handsome. perfect.

but imagine, just imagine the intense pressure, the expectations, the constant delivery he feels he owes to people who perceive him as all those things, and then some.

this is largely because of how i see him growing up

amos diggory was nothing if not proud. so he did everything to transfer all that pride onto his only son:

private tutoring, gruelling flying lessons (all theory of course, though as soon as his father deemed him old enough, tested his natural instinct on a broom), and limited free time made for a clever boy, if not a lonely one

he didn’t see anyone outside of his immediate family much. they preferred to keep to themselves.

but he definitely saw all the other kids outside his bedroom window, laughing and playing and so free. sometimes he thinks about asking his dad if he could join them

but he can see the disappointed shake of the head, hear the “you were made for better things, my boy. greater things than playing pretend.”

and his mother, for all her kindness, he could never bring himself to ask. she never expressed direct expectations the way his father did. but cedric was clever. she didn’t have to say it out loud for him to know.

so he works. and perseveres. quietly and alone, until he goes to hogwarts

growing up, he wonders if perhaps playing pretend was all he was ever good at

he pretends his father is proud of him being sorted into hufflepuff

the letter he received was not scathing, but just had enough subtle disappointment in it that it crushed him.

he didn’t tell his father he was a hatstall. that he chose hufflepuff, in the end. in a way

“you’d do well in any house, you know. be anyone.” the hat had said

i just want to be myself.

“oh my dear boy. you don’t even know who that is yet”

he pretends he wants to be a Seeker.

also a fairly popular headcanon, but i do think cedric was aware he was not made to be one because of how he’s built, but did it because “Seekers get all the glory, son. and it’s always worth the glory, isn’t it?”

he becomes Seeker. he’s praised for his fast swerves. he tells no one how much pain it gives him to execute them. he practices day and night anyway

he becomes captain. it should make him happy, and he is. it makes his dad proud too, but his shoulders sag just a little lower as another weight is placed on them

he pretends he doesn’t care for art (“it’s silly, son. there are better things, more practical things.”)

but cedric loves poetry, the abstract. it’s why his favorite and best subject is charms

he meets a ravenclaw boy who likes to write poetry as well. they bumped into each other in the library in what was both their ‘favorite spot’

he plays quidditch too, thinks he has a shot at captain

cedric diggory and roger davies became fast friends

two sides of the same coin, really. handsome, intelligent, athletic. but a bit lonely, reserved. their silence is taken for cockiness, sometimes

the main difference? roger doesn’t much care for other people’s opinions. it’s where he and cedric clash, where most of their arguments stem from. but they do help each other grow because of it

he pretends he doesn’t need friends, but makes them anyway

his father always stressed the importance of good connections, for networking and all that. and even from a young age it was clear that cedric was charming. a natural silver-tongue. he could probably make people fall at his feet, should he have wanted.

but as much as cedric cared about his own reputation, he never much cared for status, and always saw the good in others. or tried to, at least

so he and roger became close. roger introduced him to cho chang. she was pretty, also reserved, also liked quidditch. seeker

he also grew close to hecate oakham and bhavana patel from his house. hecate was often alone, in her own head. she gave cedric fresh perspective and listened, always. he did his best to do the same.

bhavana liked spending time in the greenhouse. it’s also one of cedric’s go-to places to think, clear his head.

his father thought he could perhaps do better. cedric thinks he’s struck gold.

cedric loved his friends so much, and he thought then that this is the closest he’s ever felt to understanding, and being understood

although he could never fully drop the facade in front of them, he let them see him at his worst: his disappointment, his anger (when cedric is angry, he doesn’t show it, preferring to repress and then possibly write it out later. but when he’s angry, he’s angry, piercing. ruthless and relentless, words coming out in passionate outbursts, as if the air was crackling around him from wild magic. people would have called it uncharacteristic of him, but did they ever really know him well enough to think so?)

still, he would say these were the best friends he’s ever had. the best time he’s ever had. he was happy

and then he meets harry, properly, and he’s both elated and so, so afraid. he pretends it doesn’t matter.

(he pretends he wasn’t absolutely hit with guilt after winning that one match. first, because he felt like he didn’t deserve it. second, because people think he didn’t deserve it. that on any other day, his hard work would never amount to anything next to natural talent. third, because even after all of this, a part of him was still glad he ended up catching the snitch)

(he pretends he didn’t ask to see harry when he was at the hospital wing after that disastrous match with the dementors either)

he pretends he’s fearless. that he wants to join the tournament

he’s already a prefect. quidditch captain, on the way to head boy. why not eternal glory? it’s worth it, isn’t it? everyone thinks he could do it. everyone thinks he could win. everyone thinks he should

“you don’t have to, ced.” roger says.

“no, i do.”

he hopes the goblet doesn’t spew out his name. it does. he smiles, goes up. takes his place.

“good luck.” roger yells at him, concern in his eyes

he pretends he doesn’t know what their exchange really means

“dragons. that’s the first task.” i’m worried about you

“why are you telling me this?” worry about yourself, too

harry moves to leave. cedric pulls him back. harry stares at his hand. is this when you ask?

“the badges. i’ve asked them not to wear them.” are you okay? i care about you.

“don’t worry about it.” i guess not. but thank you.

he and cho pretend they want to go to the ball together

his father, of course, is elated. pretty, smart, athletic, from a good family.

she stares wistfully at hermione granger throughout the entire champions’ dance

cedric catches harry’s eye. it was like a million snitches were whizzing around in his stomach. not like how it was with roger, at first. this was so much stronger.

he pretends he tells harry about the egg only because it’s good sportsmanship. but harry is done pretending.

when cedric goes to congratulate him for tying for first place, harry kisses him

roger smiles knowingly when he he sees cedric at the library, absolutely beaming

but there was still that part of cedric, that voice in his head that tells him he’ll ruin it, that he doesn’t deserve it. it asks him, worst of all, will you still be happy, even with your father’s disappointment?

so when does cedric diggory not pretend?

when he writes, and shares his writing with his friends

when he laughs so hard he snorts

when he’s flying. not for quidditch, but for fun

when he kisses harry back

when he says ‘together.’

when he tells harry to stay back

(he pretends he was ready to die)

so this is cedric diggory as we deserve to have known him: flawed and good. imperfect and kind. conflicted and brave

he could have been anything, but we didn’t see him live long enough for even him to figure out what it was he really wanted to be, who he wanted to be.

the only comfort we have is, in his final weeks, those final moments, he could tell himself he was finally, finally proud of the person he was becoming

he hopes history will think the same

BONUS:

roger, cho, hecate, bhavana, and of course harry mourned him. quietly, but together

roger

his first real friend. his best friend. he saw cedric the most, physically and emotionally. he thought maybe one day he’d get to see all of him, his flaws and his grievances and his silliness. he’d like to think so. he will never know, now.

people thought he’d honor cedric through quidditch, or something of the sort.

he wrote instead. he wrote for himself, for cedric. eternalized through writing.

every year he’d write something for cedric’s birthday, go to his grave and read it out to him

he’s scared of the day he runs out of memories. wishes they could still make more.

but as he tells cedric of his life now, his hardships and his triumphs and how much he misses him, he thinks he’s doing his best.

in this own, sad way, cedric is still with him. this is how they will make memories.

cho

cho cries, has a hard time sleeping. dark circles, bloodshot eyes, his death affects her the most physically. she ignores the whispers, the confused stares at her emotional turmoil. but she has always been confident with her feelings, saw no shame in expressing them.

her performance falls in quidditch.

she remembers Seeking matches with him and later with harry, the way they’d laugh and how bright cedric’s smile had been

flying hadn’t been the same since. she hopes one day it will be.

next to roger, she visits cedric the most.

hecate

no one besides their circle of friends knew it, but cedric diggory was clumsy

she remembers the way he bumped into her when he was walking through the grounds, realizing he tripped over his robe

sorry he had said. i was lost in thought

he looked like he had a lot on his mind then, as if he expected her to laugh at him.

funny, she had replied. i’m quite the same. are you headed to the lake?

and she remembers them sitting there. in comfortable silence, in easy conversation.

now she sits alone, cries silent tears, watches them run and spill and imagines them to merge with the lake

bhavana

cedric was knowledgeable about plants, but his skill at taking care of them was...questionable

she caught him, in the greenhouse, monologuing to himself

she remembered him stopping abruptly, coughing shyly. but she only laughed, said your secret’s safe with me

so she plants in memory of him, watches them grow and bloom the way he never can, now, treats them with the utmost care she wishes others had with him

harry

harry stays angry for a long time

the nightmares come every night, except this time, he doesn’t wake up in cedric’s arms

he couldn’t bring himself to visit his grave. not yet. he doesn’t know when yet, or if he ever could.

cedric diggory is harry’s first real loss.

he could have saved him. if he had never let cedric take the cup, if he had recognized the place faster, if he just got cedric to not move forward for the sake of his protection.

this was harry’s new everyday, the what ifs running through his mind at every waking moment. and sometimes he hears a laugh, sees the way someone’s smile is crooked, a snippet of a song and everything is familiar and foreign and he aches and aches. and his heart breaks a little more

and it wasn’t love, not yet. but harry remembers the way they looked at each other, the way they smiled and laughed and played and kissed and were

it could have been love, and harry wonders if he’ll ever feel that way again

so he forms the DA, in cedric’s memory. meets with roger and cho and hecate and bhavana. they all stare at cedric’s picture in the room. haunted

and harry strives to do better. to be better.

(“who’s cedric? your boyfriend?” he was)

amos diggory mourned loudly. part of him resented harry, but only because the other part of him couldn’t help but think all of this was his fault, and his fault alone

if he pressured his son a little less, let him live as he wanted, and love as he wanted

if he spent more time with cedric

if he said the words “i love you” more often, told him “i am proud of you, always.”

but he tells himself cedric must know. cedric had to have known

he doesn’t speak to cedric’s friends. tries to forget about harry potter

a hollow shell of a man, mourning for a son he never really knew.

he hopes history will treat cedric kinder than he ever did.

#cedric diggory #harry potter #hedric #hp #reposting bc my tumblr glitched and deleted the ask im CRYIGN #usergeets #userblair #useremma #uservioleta #usertessa #userbrienne #userjamie #madelinosjournal #userliyah #usersimone #anon i hope u see this still i love u sm #headcanon #hp meta

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purplehairedwonder · 3 years

Text

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 8

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 3629 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey D. Luffy, Nico Robin, Usopp, Sanji, Vergo Note: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

The story title is based on the Ellie Goulding song “Hearts Without Chains.”

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he's 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law finds a strange connection to Monkey D. Luffy, which offers a glimpse of something he's repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Robin watched as Luffy came out of the infirmary, a smile on his face as he shut the door behind him. She’d left an ear on the desk, disguised by her book, and she had to admit she was surprised by the conversation—especially that Luffy had gotten their guest (prisoner, despite what Luffy wanted) to volunteer his name. During her time with the Revolutionary Army, she’d known of many attempts by the Revolutionaries and others to learn Corazon’s real name. She filed the name Trafalgar Law away to look into later while once more marveling at her captain’s ability to read—and reach—people.

She rose from her seat and walked over to Luffy, who’d been intercepted by Usopp just outside the door.

“So, what happened?” Usopp was asking, glancing between Luffy and the closed door.

“We talked,” Luffy said, entwining his fingers behind his head. “Torao’s a good guy!”

Usopp frowned. “Torao?”

“Shishishi,” Luffy chuckled. “His name!”

Bemused, Usopp glanced at Robin, who smiled. “I believe our captain convinced Corazon to reveal his real name.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because I asked,” Luffy replied as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. Perhaps it was to him. Usopp sputtered, and Robin patted his shoulder.

“Usopp’s right, though.” They looked up to see Sanji emerge from the kitchen. He was still moving carefully, but he looked much better than when they’d first arrived outside the lab. “Names have power, and that guy’s been going by an alias for years. Why share something so dangerous with his enemies?”

There were a number of potential answers to that question, but Robin had a feeling it was the Luffy Effect in action.

“We’re not enemies,” Luffy said, crossing his arms and frowning.

“He tried to kill us!” Usopp protested.

“He electrocuted me,” Sanji added, lighting a cigarette.

“And we have him locked up in Seastone,” Robin felt obliged to point out.

But Luffy shook his head. “Jimbei made it sound like he took a big risk helping us at Marineford. He said that Mingo guy would be angry, but he did it anyway.”

Robin knew the rumors about Doflamingo’s abilities, his crew, and his underground operations. His cruelty and brutality. Doflamingo saw his crew as a family, with his executives being his most trusted. And he did not stand for disloyalty in his Family. She could only imagine how he might have reacted to his second-in-command helping rival pirates.

“Luffy,” she said gently, waiting for her captain’s eyes to find her, “Corazon was already infamous when we met him on Sabaody. But over the last two years, his reputation has only gotten darker. They call him the Surgeon of Death.”

She had a feeling this wouldn’t dissuade him—little tended to once Luffy had made his mind up about something or someone—but she wanted to make sure he knew anyway.

As expected, Luffy shook his head again while Usopp spluttered in the background. “He saved me.”

There had been endless speculation over the last two years about why Corazon had saved Luffy and Jimbei, ranging from an attempted coup within the Family to a secret love affair (Robin had laughed aloud when this had been floated).

As she’d sat in the infirmary waiting for Corazon to regain consciousness, she found herself watching him. From what she could work out about him, he was a few years younger than her yet had risen to the rank of second in command of the Donquixote Pirates more than half a decade earlier; how young had he been when he had joined such an infamous pirate group to rise so high at such a young age? She knew a thing or two about joining criminal organizations and the way they took advantage of children.

Corazon’s defensiveness upon waking up had been unsurprising, and she again found herself wondering why he had saved Luffy—but then she’d seen the way he’d frozen when Luffy had entered the room, the breath catching in his throat and something in his expression. And he’d given Luffy his real name.

“Luffy,” Usopp said, pulling Robin from her thoughts, “the guy he works for owns this lab where they are experimenting on kids. He’s trying to protect that.”

Luffy huffed. “I don’t know how to explain it. I can just feel it,” he said, a hand going to his chest where the scar—from Corazon’s life-saving operation—was hidden under his winter coat. “I can feel that he’s a good person. He helped me, and I think maybe I’m supposed to help him.”

Robin exchanged glances with Sanji and Usopp. They all knew Luffy’s senses when it came to people were beyond rational explanation but somehow right. Robin in particular knew the power of Luffy’s intuition, having been saved from her own darkness because he wouldn’t let her go. If that intuition was telling him that Corazon—Trafalgar Law—was similarly important and worth helping, then there wasn’t much more to argue.

That was the Luffy Effect.

“Okay,” Robin said.

Sanji and Usopp took a moment longer but also nodded grudgingly. They might not understand it, but they’d trust their captain. (But, if need be, they’d protect him, too.)

-----

Once the door shut behind Straw Hat, Law dropped his head back against the wall and shut his eyes, suddenly exhausted. His head throbbed from the hit from Zoro’s blade, and he considered getting up to look for some painkillers in the infirmary supplies but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Outside the door, he could hear the Straw Hats talking, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

As he sat there, he couldn’t stop Straw Hat’s words from playing over and over in his mind.

“Jimbei said that you’d be in trouble with that Mingo guy for helping us, and I was worried. Were you? In trouble?”

“I fail to see how that matters.”

“But you helped me anyway. And I’m grateful! So, you’re a good guy. No matter what anyone says.”

“No, I’m really not. You should listen to Nico-ya.”

“Nope, I can feel it. Right here.”

Law had no illusions about what kind of person he was. He’d joined the Donquixote Pirates as a terminally ill ten-year-old, determined to do as much damage as he could before he died, and in many ways, he’d never outgrown that broken boy with bombs on his chest. He was the second in command to one of the biggest names in the slave trade, among other morally reprehensible operations. And though he was a doctor, he’d killed more than he’d saved, the letters tattooed on his fingers a promise as much as a warning.

Perhaps worst of all, though, he’d stopped feeling anything when he killed.

He shuddered to think what Cora-san would think of the man he’d become.

And yet, Straw Hat looked at him and—impossibly—saw something worthwhile. Felt that Law was something worthwhile. Felt it in the same place Law had felt the tug that pulled him to Marineford two years earlier.

What did it mean?

What did Law do with that?

The Seastone cuffs weighed heavily on his wrists, clanking as he opened his eyes and rubbed his face through his hands. He stared up at the ceiling, the words of his nakama from before his departure ringing through his head in the wake of Straw Hat’s declaration:

“I know you spooked when I lost my arm. But it’s not your fault.”

“You’re not this person you’ve let yourself become. They might think of you as Corazon, but to us, you’re Captain.”

Two years of pushing his crew away to protect them, of doing nothing to earn their trust or affection, yet they refused to give up on him. Like Straw Hat, they looked at him and saw something worthwhile. But how could Law accept that from them after what he’d cost them?

Despite what Violet said, Law knew he was, inside and out, Doflamingo’s creature. He knew what he saw when he looked in the mirror, the marks of claiming left on his skin and the emptiness in his eyes. After what he’d lost, Law was too tired to fight it any longer.

So why did people keep looking at him like he was anything but Doflamingo’s broken doll?

Law was startled from his reverie by a loud thud from the deck of the ship. He straightened as he heard the tone of the Straw Hats’ voices change in response to whatever had happened. Punk Hazard was unfriendly territory for them and full of more hazards than they could have known about when they anchored on the island. And most things unfriendly to the Straw Hats should be friendly to Law as Joker’s second.

Law rose and made his way to the door in an attempt to hear more clearly. He was wondering at the odds of using this distraction to search for the key to his cuffs when a familiar voice responded to the Straw Hats’ demands of who he was. Law’s stomach dropped.

“—ase commander of G-5,” Vergo was saying as Law pulled open the infirmary door.

The Straw Hats looked back at him, surprised, but Law ignored them, his eyes focused on Vergo. Vergo inclined his head when Law appeared, which was not a good sign.

“Torao, you should—”

“What are you doing here, Vergo?” Law demanded over Straw Hat.

“You two know each other?” Long Nose asked, glancing between them nervously.

“Your ally?” Black Leg asked, stance turning defensive. “But he’s a Marine.”

There was no way Vergo was here to help Law. But why had he come? Doffy hadn’t wanted him to blow his cover; that the entire reason for sending Law to Punk Hazard in the first place.

“It seems Joker was right to send me to check on your allegiance, Corazon,” Vergo said, lips twisting mockingly around the title he’d once worn himself. “I’ve been warning him for years that you were disloyal, and now I find you defecting.”

Law’s eyes narrowed, and he raised his shackled wrists. “Does this look like defecting, Vergo?” he hissed. Not that it would make a difference; Law was certain Vergo didn’t actually think he had defected. “I’m a prisoner.”

Vergo smirked. “No matter. All Joker needs to know is that I found his favorite plaything standing with the very crew whose captain he betrayed Joker to save two years ago.” His expression darkened. “And don’t forget the -san, boy.”

Law flinched at being called a plaything.

“What’s going on?” Straw Hat asked, frowning between the two. Law ignored him.

“What do you think Joker will do to your crew when he hears you betrayed him again?” Vergo went on.

Law felt the color drain from his face. “You son of a bitch.”

Straw Hat turned to look directly at Law, his expression turning concerned when he saw that Law had gone pale. “Torao—”

Turning his back on Vergo was a mistake. Law’s eyes widened as Vergo drew his bamboo stick, and, as he surged forward, coated it with haki. He swung at Straw Hat’s exposed back. Straw Hat sensed him coming, but Vergo’s speed took him off-guard; Vergo swung his bamboo, and Straw Hat tried to dodge but took enough of a blow to his side that it knocked him off-balance. He yelped in surprise as Vergo swung again, sending him over the ship’s railing into the water below.

Law inhaled sharply as Long Nose and Black Leg both cursed. Long Nose turned to Black Leg.

“Stay with Robin,” he said before taking a running leap and jumping overboard after his sinking captain.

Without missing a beat, Black Leg and Nico Robin took defensive postures in front of Law. Law looked at their backs in disbelief. Why? Why would they help him?

“I have no quarrel with you,” Vergo said to them. “Step aside. This is Family business.”

Black Leg snorted in disbelief, and Nico Robin smiled in that knowing way of hers. “Donquixote Doflamingo wouldn’t want it known he has a spy so high up in the Marines. You won’t let us go.”

Vergo straightened his glasses. “You caught me. But if you step aside, I’ll make your deaths quick.”

“I don’t think so,” Black Leg replied.

Vergo frowned, clearly as confused as Law himself. “Why would you protect him? He tried to kill you.”

So Vergo saw the fight. He must have followed Law from Dressrosa, leaving right behind him. That bastard was just looking for an excuse to cut Law down and finish what he’d started on Minion Island. Had Doffy told him to come, or was Vergo acting on his own?

“Our idiot captain seems to like him,” Black Leg replied with a shrug.

Law started as Nico Robin gave him a small smile before turning back to Vergo. “And Luffy is a very good judge of character. Even if we don’t understand his reasons at first.”

Law’s breath caught in his throat.

Vergo hefted his bamboo. “So be it.”

He charged once more, swinging his bamboo at Nico Robin. Black Leg intercepted the blow with his leg. Vergo fell back and Black Leg charged in a flurry of kicks. Vergo met him blow for blow until the two stopped in the middle of the deck, legs locked. Law winced at the sound of cracking bone. Black Leg slumped, and Law momentarily regretted hitting him with Counter Shock earlier.

“Sanji-kun!” Nico Robin called, worried.

“Where’s the key to these cuffs?” Law demanded urgently as Vergo turned back toward them. He did not want to be defenseless again with Vergo bearing down on him. And he was not going to let Vergo kill Nico Robin for protecting him. Too many people had been hurt or killed protecting Law, and he didn’t deserve any of it.

“Usopp has it,” she said, glancing toward the railing.

“Great,” Law muttered.

As Vergo approached, Nico Robin summoned giant hands, creating a wall between them and Vergo. Law knew it wouldn’t hold against Vergo’s Demon Bamboo. She winced as Vergo slammed against it, the structure shaking under his strength.

“Take Black Leg-ya and get out of here,” Law told her. Hopefully, Long Nose had rescued Straw Hat by now, and they could recover on shore. Vergo would let her go, at least temporarily; he was here because of Law, after all.

She looked at him, startled. “And leave you? You’re powerless.”

“You have no reason to protect me, Nico-ya. I tried to kill your friends. I wouldn’t have stopped, either.” She winced again as the wall trembled against Vergo’s onslaught. “We may both work for Doflamingo, but Vergo wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if given the chance. And now he has the chance.” He shook his head. “Get out of here and regroup with your crew. This is Family business.”

Nico Robin opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by bamboo tearing through her wall. She cried out as the wall collapsed. Vergo met Law’s eye and smirked. Law gasped in pain and surprise as, in a flash, bamboo met his side and sent him flying into the ship’s railing. Slowly, he pushed himself upright and blinked against his spinning vision in time to see Vergo grab Nico Robin by the neck.

“Demon Child Nico Robin,” he said. “I should kill you, but I have a feeling Joker could make good use of you.”

“No thanks,” she choked out between gasps. “I have a crew.”

Vergo simply laughed—a sound that made Law’s skin crawl—and flung her across the deck. She slammed into Black Leg, who was struggling to balance with a fractured leg, and the pair were knocked into the far wall.

Law pushed himself to his feet. Vergo turned to look at him, the malice radiating from him palpable on the winter air. If Law had access to his powers, he would have no problem taking Vergo on. But with the Seastone shackles blocking him from his Fruit and draining his strength, he was as helpless in the face of Vergo’s rage now as he had been as a sick child—and they both knew it.

Vergo moved and suddenly Law’s back slammed into the wall, a haki-clad hand around his throat. Law’s feet dangled off the ground as he struggled to breathe. He grasped at Vergo’s wrist, struggling vainly to loosen the grip stealing his air.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Law.”

“Beating a terminally-ill child nearly to death wasn’t enough for you?” Law wheezed. It somehow seemed fitting that Vergo would finish the job he’d started on a winter island on the winter side of Punk Hazard. There was a feeling of things coming full circle as the snow fell around them.

“Once a traitor, always a traitor,” Vergo growled. “You’ve never been good enough for Doffy. Yet he brings you back and elevates you to his right hand.”

As darkness encroached on the edges of Law’s vision, it hit him that Vergo wasn’t simply holding a grudge about Cora-san’s betrayal. Since Law’s return to the Family nearly a decade earlier, Doffy had kept Law close, giving him no opportunities for betrayal. Holding Law’s crew hostage, he’d groomed Law—teaching him, training him, even fucking him. He did everything to make sure his ownership of Law was complete. Law had hated every moment of it—the only freedom he’d found was leaving Dressrosa on the Polar Tang with his crew on missions—but Vergo was jealous.

Law croaked out a disbelieving laugh at the realization.

Vergo frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“I didn’t take you for the jealous type, Vergo.”

Vergo snarled wordlessly and tightened his grip. Law gasped, feeling what little strength he had leaving him. His lungs screamed, he was light-headed, and his eyes started to close.

Would it really be so bad if Vergo killed him now? It would end nearly a decade of hell, the daily physical and emotional torture that had beaten him down to the point of pushing his nakama away…

Law’s eyes flew open at the thought of his nakama. He couldn’t die and leave them alone to face Doffy’s retribution. He couldn’t die without them knowing how much they meant to him, that even if he’d been a poor excuse for a captain, there was no greater honor than leading them.

A sudden fire burning in his chest, Law’s gaze sharpened, and he dropped his hands from Vergo’s wrist. Vergo looked at him in confusion—clearly, he’d thought Law had been about to succumb—and Law took his moment of distraction to loop the Seastone shackles over Vergo’s neck and cross his arms to tighten them with his waning strength. Vergo didn’t have a Devil Fruit so the Seastone wouldn’t affect him, but he would feel the bite of metal into his skin.

In his current position, Law didn’t have enough strength to truly strangle Vergo, but the move was enough to startle Vergo and cause pain. Reflexively, he loosened his grip, and Law gulped in the delicious, frigid air. Letting go of Law’s neck, Vergo grabbed Law’s arms.

“Let go,” he growled.

“You can’t kill me, Vergo,” Law rasped.

Vergo regarded him through those sunglasses. “Why not?” He only had to strain a bit to speak against Law’s attempted strangulation.

“Doffy has plans for my death, and we both know it.”

The surprise was evident on Vergo’s features. “How did you know—”

Law scoffed. “You don’t think I know why they call the Ope Ope no Mi the ultimate Devil Fruit? Kill me now and Doffy will have to look for the Fruit all over again if he wants that operation.”

Law never intended to go through with the operation, but it was leverage Vergo couldn’t ignore.

“Doffy always says you’re too clever for your own good,” Vergo said, lips curling in distaste. But Law knew he had the other man; Vergo was completely devoted to Doffy, and he wouldn’t do anything to risk his master’s chance of receiving immortality.

In one sudden motion, Vergo let go of Law’s arms and grabbed the chain wrapped around his neck. He pulled it free and held the chain above his head, leaving Law dangling in midair by the wrists. Law hissed in surprise.

“Now what, Vergo-san?” Law asked, sneering the oft-demanded honorific.

“I take you back to Dressrosa, a fallen traitor,” Vergo taunted. “Doffy will finally see you for what you are—nothing better than his miserable excuse for a brother. You can watch Doffy slowly destroy your crew one by one. Maybe he’ll even make you kill some of them.” He sounded amused at the prospect. “And then he’ll make you beg to perform the Perennial Youth operation—and only then will you die, doing one useful thing in your miserable life.”

Chest clenching, Law thought of his crew. Of kind Bepo. Of goofy Shachi. Of brave Penguin. Penguin’s words came back then, sharp and pointed.

“You want to pull that, maybe you should start acting like a captain again.”

No. I won’t let that happen. He was done failing them as their captain.

His eyes flew open as Vergo’s haki-coated fist connected with his stomach. The breath left his lungs—again—and he would have curled in on himself if he wasn’t hanging in midair. Vergo let go of the chain and Law dropped to the grass of the Thousand Sunny’s deck. He looked up in time to see Vergo’s bamboo coming right for his head.

“Torao!” he heard in the distance.

Then nothing.

Next chapter

#I had an off day so have an early chapter #I really like how this chapter turned out #Caitlin's fic #Trafalgar Law #One Piece fanfic #One Piece fanfiction #One Piece

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clumsyclifford · 4 years

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the lovely @ashtcnirwin created this sexy tag game which i was subsequently tagged in by @redrattlers and (by virtue of being in the club lol) @escapesos so thank you friends

i’m gonna tag my friends up here and then put a cut before my answers because (quelle surprise) i got a bit long winded. so i will tag!! @haikucal @calumcest @calumsclifford @tirednotflirting @ashesonthefloor and @5sos-fan-boy go crazy

and here is a cut for courtesy

1. what was your first encounter with fanfiction? one direction fanfiction! on wattpad! probably in about 2012. it was the like, 1d x OC stuff. i read some Not Fun Stuff. it was very disturbing. even in retrospect, disturbing. and now here we are

2. your favourite creation of your own of all time if you create stuff (feel free to link it)? i really don’t think i can fairly answer this because i have written So Many Things. even if i’m just keeping it within 5sos it’s still A Lot!! i know i talk about it a lot but i’m stupid proud of neon weekend for a lot of reasons. also hello, hello - i talked about this somewhere else but i don’t, like. i don’t really write chaptered...things. i’m not good at it!! and the fact that i successfully did it with hello hello and also that it was GOOD and that people liked it?? that’s all i need, honestly. that’s all i’m saying for now i’ve already gone on too long

3. what vibe are you going for with your home decor (or what vibe do you wanna go for one day, if you don’t have your own place atm)? uh.....welcoming and practical. i have no idea. i do not have my own place and i really doubt i’ll have one any time soon since i’m, you know, a college student, but yeah ultimately i’d like it to be, oh, clean? that’s not a decor thing but it is very important to me. vibe-wise i really don’t think i can explain it any better? i want it to be welcoming. guests to feel welcome. that’s all!

4. first fandom you ever joined? what was it like? on what platform did it happen? yeah it was one direction it was on wattpad i read a bunch of (bad) fanfiction and i also wrote some (also extremely bad) and then for awhile i stopped being part of that and........yeah lol

5. what are your sun, moon and rising signs, and do you think they make sense in relation to how you know yourself? well i am leo sun, pisces moon, cancer rising. according to meghna’s google search pisces moons are intuitive and creative in abstract ways like music, and cancer risings are family oriented and are likely to keep their guards up and have plans before going into unknown situations, and both of those things very much sound like me, so! and of course leos are like, self-obsessed, which i am, and enjoy attention, which i do, and passionate, which i AM. so there you go!

6. if you write and/or read fiction (original or fanfiction), do the tropes/plots/character types you typically seek out to read and/or write about reflect something about you as a being or how you see the world? man i can’t be thinking about this stuff right now i have no idea !!! in a way, yes. i don’t read things that....that i think i won’t enjoy reading? and i don’t write things i wouldn’t want to read. so in that sense, yes. final answer yes. i don’t know. my brain hurts.

7. what is the hardest obstacle you’ve had to overcome so far in life? uh.......fuck. ive been through some shit but i’ve had a relatively easy life, so this is a hard question for me. but i guess that like, my first two years of high school were REALLY bad like mental health-wise because i had just been severed from all of my best and closest friends and friendships and was starting high school with no friends at all nor basically any connections, which. if you have ever started high school you know that’s !! a shitty way to do it !! but anyway. i got through that, which is nice. but i’ve gone back and read some of my journal entries from that time in my life and i remember like, being in that time, i would think to myself how i wasn’t depressed and how i was fine and this that and the other thing, but looking back on it..........you know. i definitely was Not Fine. got long-winded here oops lol

8. what is your all time favourite song(s)? you can’t ask me this dude

getaway green // a daydream away // vegas - all time low

check yes, juliet - we the kings

why georgia - john mayer

naive - andy grammer

9. what do you look for in a person you wanna keep in your life, be it a friend or a romantic partner or anything in between? there are some things, like...it’s important to me that we understand each other. and i get along best with people who are not extremely dramatic, that is, reasonable people, and that are good at both listening and communicating. and then also, i mean, this is the obvious, but. this is a useless answer but someone that i can be myself with!! and by that i mean ALL of myself. there’s a lot of me. and i think a lot of the time i’m being some of myself but not all of it, because, you know. i’m a lot! but the people i wanna keep are the people who make me feel absolutely confident that no matter what kind of crazy i am, they will love me the same. like, not just tolerate, but love. so. yeah.

10. this is a bit of a difficult one, but have you ever had a moment of clarity, a conversation with someone that made you go “oh!”, or anything along those lines? one time my mom told me i had a fear of failure, and that made me realize that i have a fear of failure, lmao does that count? jgkdflgjf sorry for real though i feel like i have moments of clarity constantly, because i’m always always always seeking to improve myself and be, like, better and more than i am. i have big realizations regularly. i TRY to. i don’t want to believe that i know anything definitively. i am often wrong! i don’t know if that’s a real answer to the question but it really is how i feel.

#this made me miss my sister thanks a lot anna #that's also because i'm listening to Some Music so not entirely on you #but i feel like you can take 50% blame at least #tag games #fun to be introspective though #and you know. i love to talk about myself <3 :))#it's the leo sun baby!!!!#thats a joke. or is it #stuff

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lia-jones · 4 years

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Growing Stronger - Chapter Twenty-Five - Lost In Translation

It had been Victor’s idea to go olive picking. Not that he was necessarily outright about it, but since Andrea had told him about it, he started mentioning it here and there, showing his interest. Andrea soon started making arrangements for their week in Portugal, although he could tell she was apprehensive about it. That was exactly the problem Victor had to address. He wanted Andrea to feel comfortable in having him in her life.

Victor also knew how important family was to Andrea, so it was important that he get along with them. Being welcoming as they were, that wasn’t a hard task at all. In the days they were at her parents’ house, he kept being invited by each one of the family members to engage in some kind of activity, for the purpose of bonding.

Joshua was the first, inviting him to the rehearsal of the orchestra that he played for and, a few days later, a soccer match with some of his friends. It had been an incredibly long time since Victor played soccer, always busy with work and his other duties, but he had to acknowledge that he enjoyed his time with Andrea’s brother. Joshua was a free spirit, much like his father, but had a competitive spirit that came out in the game. It was their mutual determination that made them connect and work together, leading them to victory. By the time they got home, they were bantering like they had been lifelong friends. The shared camaraderie made Andrea smile, and Victor knew he was on the right path.

It wasn’t difficult to find common ground with Andrea’s father, since enology was a shared passion. Jeremy would come home with a new bottle of wine from work and share it with Victor, or they would step down to his remarkable private cellar to enjoy one of his bottles. Although Victor had regarded Andrea’s father as a bit of a goof before, so particularly keen on saying inappropriate things at the wrong time or being completely oblivious to social cues, he soon learned that that man was incredibly cultured and well-traveled, and was a truly amazing encyclopedia of knowledge about the world. Conversations with him were stimulating and riveting, and Victor was pleasantly surprised to find that he learned things he knew nothing about before their conversation.

Mariana was the heart of the house, the voice of reason, and, being a therapist, human relations and emotions were her forte. Victor knew how closed off he could be, but Andrea’s mother read him like a book, always knowing when he wasn’t feeling comfortable and taking action accordingly to put him at ease. It was very easy to trace some of Andrea’s traits back to her mother, especially her strength and determination, her keen intuition, and insightfulness. Mariana would often invite Victor to help cook a meal, knowing it was probably the one place in the entire house he felt most comfortable in. And to Victor’s great astonishment, he found himself completely relaxed, sharing his view of the world and many aspects of his personal life while he happily chopped ingredients or stirred pots. Of all the members of the family, Mariana was the one he felt the most comfortable with, because she reminded him so much of Andrea.

There was a family member that Victor hadn’t made any intentions to bond with, but such had proven to be inevitable: Andrea’s baby niece, Ana. Victor was never really good with kids, and never felt any kind of attraction towards them or the idea of having a few of his own, until he started to date Andrea. One day Cristina showed up with the little girl, asking Victor and Andrea to babysit while she dealt with some urgent professional affairs, and he couldn’t help but feel captivated by those big green eyes and easy yet innocent smile. Soon, it had captured his interest to understand how the little child perceived the world, and how could he affect it. He took pleasure in playing with her, watching her learn and enthusiastically respond to new stimuli: his tie, his car keys, his very large hands holding her tiny ones. Soon enough, Ana became one of Victor’s favorite people, and the baby girl seemed to return the affection. Much like her aunt, he couldn’t be around her without a smile on his face and a warm feeling in his heart.

Now that he was in an even more foreign territory--Andrea’s grandmother’s farm--Victor realized he was starting to see these people as his familiar world. And invariably, these people were consistently by his side, helping him navigate the novelty of a strange culture and language. Victor, always so guarded and self-dependent, could now fully understand the feeling of having a family he could rely on, even if it wasn’t his own. That made him appreciate Andrea’s family even more, and deepen the already profound love he felt for his girlfriend. She opened his world to new and amazing experiences, and he couldn’t feel more grateful for having her in his life.

“Are you comfortable in your bed?” He heard Joshua speak above him. “We can trade if you feel better on the top bunk.”

“I’m comfortable here, you don’t need to worry.” Victor closed his eyes, preparing himself to meet Morpheus. He was exhausted.

“I’m sorry for the sleeping arrangements.” Joshua apologized with a tinge of bitterness in his voice. “My grandma can be so uptight sometimes.”

“It’s alright, reminds me of my college days.” Victor could feel the tension leave each and single one of his sore muscles. If only Joshua would stop talking and let him sleep.

“I mean, I’m married, for crying out loud. Why do I have to sleep away from my wife? What does she think, that Ana was brought by the stork?”

It was evident that Victor wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. The polite thing to do was to engage in conversation. Maybe Joshua would tire faster and finally shut up.

“No funny business.” Victor playfully warned. “Boys on one side, girls on the other.”

“No… She told you that? Way to welcome people.”

“She said something, but I couldn’t understand what. However, her impromptu sign language was quite explanatory.” Victor chuckled.

“Don’t tell me she made the gesture with her fingers making a circle, and her other finger…” Joshua laughed. “Priceless. I wish I was there to see it.”

“She did. And it wasn’t priceless, it was mortifying.” Victor complained in a flat tone.

“Yeah, she has this… aura around her. She can make an adult feel like a teenager again.” Joshua paused, and when he spoke again, his tone was much more serious. “I know she looks like a tough nut to crack, but she’s actually very sweet. Kind of like you.”

Victor wondered for a moment why people insisted on comparing him to a grumpy old lady. It wasn’t very flattering.

“I’m sure we’ll reach common ground soon. Good night, Joshua.” Victor put an end to the conversation, looking forward to a deep restorative sleep.

“Sleep well, Victor.”

It didn’t take five minutes for Victor to hear Joshua’s deep breaths, indicating he was asleep. However, Victor was not. The conversation has stirred old memories in his mind, making his brain particularly active. Should’ve just told Joshua to shut up and be done with it.

He tossed and turned in his bed, thinking about something he hadn’t considered in a very long time: his college days. Victor’s father was a devout follower and believer of discipline and rigor, so it wasn’t a surprise that when Victor revealed that he had been accepted in Harvard to take the Finance degree, he was told he wouldn’t be staying in the University’s dorm. “You are there so you can get an education, not experiment on illicit drugs and poor judgment”, his father said. Instead, Victor would sleep in the Military Academy dorm as a guest, where he would have the strictness and standards that make a boy a man.

At the tender age of eighteen, Victor found himself in quite the predicament. He was frowned upon at Harvard because he came from a wealthy family, and people assumed his father had bought his admission, which wasn’t the case. Victor had to work very hard to be where he was, since his father believed he shouldn’t rely on the family name, making a name for himself instead. He was also frowned upon at the Military Academy dorm by his roommates, who also had a prejudice against his family of origin. They believed that he was an entitled snotty kid, the kind he knew very well from boarding school, always relying on their parents to get them out of trouble, and slacking off on their commitments, because, truth be told, they didn’t need to honor them anyway.

However, Victor was determined and eager to prove all those fools wrong. At first, he kept to himself, suffering all the insults in silence, knowing that sooner or later, he would make them swallow their own words. He got up at 5 am every morning for the Academy’s mandatory hour of exercise, shower, and help his fellow dormmates prepare breakfast. After breakfast, he would make his own bed impeccably and tidy his room for the usual rounds. At 8 am, he was already in college, taking his courses and spending whatever time he had free at the library, studying, or working on assignments. Then he would return to the dorm, have dinner and help clean the kitchen and canteen, then have a quick shower and put on his pajamas and spend time alone in his room, reading a book or listening to some music as he worked on his laptop.

Victor didn’t have any friends, so he spent most of his time alone, focused on his real goal there: his education. He didn’t want to just graduate, he wanted to do it with high praise, his way to impress his father, in a secret hope of conquering his affection. Sometimes some girls would approach him, and while he let himself entertain with one of them for a while, the romance was short-lived, since Victor didn’t have any interest or time to invest much in it.

By the time the school year was nearly finished, he had conquered the respect of his peers, by showing them he was more than a rich kid with a pretty face. He was finally able to make a few friends, one of them being Ted Kasey, the extrovert red-haired guy that everybody seemed to love. However, Victor still kept to himself, opting to continue spending most of his time on his own. The experience had taught him that relationships were fleeting and volatile, but results were concrete and everlasting. This would be the policy he would adopt for himself for the rest of his life, his determination focused more on results than feelings or relationships.

That is, until he met Andrea. It wasn’t exactly that he was less driven or less focused after meeting her, but that Victor found the value of meaningful relationships. And in retrospect, he reckoned the time he spent in college would be a lot less hard if he had had a true friend to confide with, a pillar he could lean on in time of need. Andrea was that and a lot more: she was his lover, his best friend, his confidant. He finally felt he had someone on his team, rooting for him, making him reach newer heights, and helping him in the case that he tumbled down. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

Which brought to his mind the matter of her grandmother. Like his mates back in college, he felt that she looked at him and saw nothing but a snob man in a suit. But like before, he would change her mind. He took every hard task she gave him that day and was respectful of her values to show her that he was worthy of Andrea’s love. He would show her he had a spine, honor and high values, and he was more than capable to nurture and provide for her granddaughter.

The feeling of confidence filled Victor’s heart with joy and pride, and he was finally able to find a comfortable position on that bed that barely gave him room to move. Victor imagined the warmth of his loved one in his arms, closed his eyes, and with a soft sigh, fell asleep.

A moment later, he heard Joshua’s voice again.

“Hey, Vic, wake up.” Joshua shook Victor’s shoulder.

Victor was not a violent man, but he could smack Joshua for having the audacity of waking him up by shaking him and calling him Vic. Opening one eye, he noticed the sunlight coming through the bedroom window. It was already morning. Early morning, but still, time to be in bed. Victor groaned, turning away from Joshua and the light. He could use a few more hours of sleep.

“Andrea needs us to go pick up the bread from the bakery.” Joshua shook Victor again. “She needs it for breakfast.”

The mention of Andrea’s name made Victor forget about her brother’s lack of manners and turn again to face him, opening both eyes.

“Alright.” He sleepily tried to rub the exhaustion out of his eyes. “Give me fifteen minutes to shave and get dressed.”

“This is the country, man.” Joshua chuckled. “You don’t need to shave. Be ready in five, I’ll be waiting for you outside. We need to hurry.”

Maybe Joshua didn’t mind walking around looking like a bum, but it wasn’t Victor’s case. He rubbed his face, trying to assess how long his stubble was. It seemed manageable, so he decided to get dressed and ready and shave when he returned. He found Joshua waiting by the car.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get decent coffee when we get there.” Joshua rolled out his window, letting the cool breeze in. “We both look like we need it.”

While they waited for the baker and his employees to prepare the many bags of bread they would be taking, Victor and Joshua enjoyed their coffee at a table outside in silence, appreciating the cool Autumn breeze.

“So.” Joshua started, his voice solemn. “My mom told me about the chat you had with her and my dad this week.”

Victor froze.

“You disapprove?” He watched Joshua’s reaction carefully.

“No, man, I’m happy.” Joshua smiled. “She deserves it, you know, after all she’s been through. And it’s pretty clear you care for her. You’re putting up with my grandmother. That’s quite the feat.”

Victor suppressed a smile, taking a sip of his coffee.

“She calls you Stretchy, you know?” Joshua laughed.

“Your grandmother?” Victor chuckled. “I was wondering what Esticadinho meant. It’s not as bad as I thought I would be.”

“You know, I didn’t like you very much at first.” Joshua narrowed his eyes at him.

“People usually don’t.” Victor lowered his eyes, remembering how Andrea seemed to loathe him during her first months in LFG.

“But you’re a good guy.” Victor looked up, noticing Joshua extending his hand for him to shake. “I’m glad you’re in my sister’s life.”

“I’m glad she’s in my life too.” Victor shook the twin’s hand with a broad smile. “I intend on making her the happiest woman in this world, if she’ll have me.”

Victor barely had the time to talk to Andrea, who was busy cooking and serving breakfast to all the people working at the mill. After the meal, her grandmother took him by his arm, leading him to the mill. As always, Victor followed with a smile. He was curious to know what task she had for him now.

“Isto é uma peneira.” Victor looked at what Bia was pointing, it looked like some kind of sifter. Perhaps the one Andrea was talking about the previous day. “Tu mexes as azeitonas com a rama, e a rama cai.”

Victor only understood azeitonas , which meant olives. The old lady understood his confusion.

She took a bag half-filled with the olives they had harvested the day before, dumping it on the contraption. She turned to him, raising her voice. Maybe he thought that if she yelled at him, he would understand her better. Most days Victor would find that painfully annoying, but in this case it made him laugh.

“Azeitona.” She picked an olive. “Rama. Ou folhas.” She picked some leaves. “Mexes assim.” She rolled the olives in the sifter, and he watched the leaves fall to the ground.

“Com força, não.” Victor knew força meant strength, and não meant no. He had to be gentle. He nodded to show he understood, rolling up his sleeves to start working.

“Tu não vais ser como o outro cabrão, pois não?” The grandmother asked him with emotion in her eyes. “Trata bem da minha menina.”

Victor had no clue what the old lady was talking about, but he recognized the word menina , which meant girl, so she was most likely talking about Andrea. This was a serious conversation, and he didn’t want to miss one single word of it, or give way to misunderstandings.

He had refused to use the app on his phone, considering it would act as a crutch and stall his learning. But at that moment, it would be useful. He took the phone out of his pocket and opened the app.

“Falas aqui.” His Portuguese was intolerably basic, but he hoped she understood that he wanted her to talk to the phone, so the app would translate it. She took his phone out of his hand with a suspicious look.

“Trata bem a minha menina. Ela já passou por muito. Ela não merece sofrer.” She said as she pressed the button he indicated her. He read the translation: Treat my girl well. She's been through a lot. She doesn't deserve to suffer.

“Eu amo-a.” Victor tried to pronounce the words right, speaking slowly. “Muito. Mais do que vida minha.” He hoped that what he said was that he loved Andrea more than his own life. He seemed to have gotten it right, because the lady smiled at him, for the first time.

“És um bom menino, Esticadinho.” She stroke his cheek in a motherly way, and he understood she was praising him, although calling him a good boy wasn’t exactly the praise he was looking for.

“Obrigado.” He smiled.

“Agora vê se te portas bem com ela e se o manténs guardadinho nas calças, sim?” She smacked him in the gut, just above the belt, hard enough for him to slightly double over. Calças meant pants. She was telling him to keep it in his pants. Victor didn’t need to be proficient in English to know that. Without any other word, Andrea’s grandmother left him to work.

Victor was finishing sorting his second bag when Andrea’s father came to him.

“Go help Andrea in the kitchen. We got this.” Jeremy took the bag Victor was pouring in the sifter from his hands.

“Dona Bia asked, I don’t mind.” He explained, thinking they were trying to give him some relief from all the chores.

“Andrea needs you, actually. Ana is not feeling well, Cristina had to take her to the village doctor. She’s one person short and, according to her, she needs someone capable .” Victor wondered if Jeremy had been tossed out of the kitchen, judging by how he said it.

The kitchen counter was filled with vegetables, with barely any wiggle room. Mariana was cutting vegetables, while Andrea was at the stove, busy with pots and pans.

“Do you want me to do that?” Victor approached Mariana. “I can do it a lot faster.”

“By all means! Go ahead!” Mariana handed him the knife, sounding relieved. “I’m going to tell Josh to start the fire at the mill, so we can cook the food.”

“We are cooking this in the mill?” Victor raised an eyebrow, while he quickly chopped the cabbage as he saw Mariana do. “What are we cooking anyway?”

“ Cozido á Portuguesa. A kind of Portuguese stew with pork and vegetables. Josh has to start a fire to begin extracting the oil from the olives, and we are using that heat to cook the ingredients in clay pots. It gives them an extra flavor. Didn’t my grandmother give you a tour of the mill? I thought that’s why she was taking you with her.” Andrea asked while she removed cooked meat from steel pots to clay ones.

“No, she wanted me to sift the olives.” Victor was done with the cabbages and moved on to peeling carrots.

“I’m sorry if she’s being too hard on you.” Andrea gave him a worried look.

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’m enjoying myself.” Victor offered her a smile, and as he predicted, the sparkle in her eyes returned. “I think she likes me better now.”

“Well, she never hated you.” Andrea came closer to him, taking the knife out of his hands and placing it on the board. “It’s the whole Daniel experience, you know. It takes them longer to trust. It was only a matter of time until they saw the real wonderful you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“I can’t even recall the last time I kissed you.” Victor held her in his arms, enjoying the warmth of her body close to his. “I have barely seen you these days.”

“No time like the present.” Andrea smiled, and Victor glanced at the door. “Nobody will come, trust me.”

Well, Victor wasn’t known for wasting time. His lips touched Andrea’s softly, and soon he realized how much he had really missed her. And she was just as hungry as he was, judging by the way she fiercely deepened the kiss, one hand grabbing the back of his neck, the other roaming his pectorals, one of the things she knew positively drove him insane.

Victor’s rational side knew that he should make it stop, they should keep cooking, time was of the essence, someone could come in at any moment. But Victor had a beast inside him that was begging to be fed, and was ignoring any plea his logic was making. Before he could be any wiser, he had already sat her on the counter, and was rubbing himself between her legs, lost in her scent, her breasts, her curls. He would have had her right there and then, surrounded by cabbages and carrots and potatoes, if not for the sound of a door opening and closing, making them jump out of each other’s arms.

“Look who’s feeling so much better!” They heard Cristina as she entered the kitchen, a smiling Ana in her arms. “Oh. Did I interrupt something?”

“My beautiful baby!” Andrea ran to Ana, taking her in her arms. “Are you feeling better, honey?”

Victor stayed behind the counter, busying himself with the vegetables, hoping his erection would go away fast.

Cristina took Ana inside for a nap, and in the meantime, Mariana returned to help. Soon all four were busy with their tasks, and Victor was assigned to dessert duty.

“Do you want me to make something in particular?” He asked, while in the pantry, figuring out what ingredients he would need. “Is fermento baking soda?”

“Do whatever you like. As long as we get to eat it, we don’t mind.” Andrea’s mother chimed in. “And yes, it’s baking soda.”

Soon enough, Mariana was ringing the bell, calling the rest of the people for the meal. Victor went to the wood oven in the mill to take out the dessert he had made.

Andrea was absolutely right. The wood oven gave the food a wonderful taste, and it made the whole difference. His dessert would be delectable too, if it absorbed some of the aroma.

After the cozido, Mariana went to get the plated puddings from the kitchen. Everybody started eating, Dona Bia making a pleased remark.

“É bom!” She hummed, and Victor understood she liked it. “Quem fez?”

“O Victor.” Andrea answered with a smug smile. Bia’s eyes opened wide.

“Muito bom!” She smiled, giving him a thumbs-up, seemingly impressed. “Tens jeito, rapaz!”

“She says you’re a good cook.” Joshua, who was sitting next to Victor, translated it.

“Quem quer bica?” Dona Bia asked, and everybody showed their hands.

“What did she ask?” Victor asked Joshua, not understanding her question.

“It’s slang for coffee.” Joshua explained. “But since you are a man, you don’t say bica , you say bico . Tell my grandmother Quero um bico, por favor.”

Victor turned to the old lady, happy for being able to say a whole sentence in Portuguese.

“Quero um bico, por favor.” He did his best to pronounce it correctly.

Suddenly, there was a deadly silence at the table, every single person staring at Victor with eyes wide. Victor felt his face burn with embarrassment. Did he say something wrong? What did he say? Andrea’s grandmother gave a hearty laugh.

“Ó filho, já estou muito velha para essas coisas.” Everybody started cackling, and Victor was more confused and embarrassed by the second. “Dou-te uma bica, pode ser? Um bico não.”

“What are you laughing about?” Victor snapped at Andrea, the heat spreading from his face to his blood, making it boil. “What did I say? What did she say to me?”

“You asked her for a blowjob.” Andrea doubled over laughing and could barely breathe, let alone talk. “She told you she was too old for that stuff, but she would get you a coffee instead.”

There was this expression that Andrea used to express her mortification, she would say she would like to dig a hole and stay there. Victor used to tease her about it, he found the expression very amusing, to dig a hole and hide. Until this precise moment. Victor was in dire need of a hole. Victor also wanted to burn a hole into Joshua’s head.

“Mark my words.” Victor warned, which made Joshua laugh even harder. “You will pay for this.”

“As long as it’s not in bicos!” Joshua stifled a laugh and slapped Victor in the back. “Come on, it’s just some brotherly hazing.”

“Right.” He looked from Andrea's brother to the coffee now in front of him, wondering if he even wanted to drink it in the first place. Now every time he had coffee he would remember this very embarrassing moment.

As Victor took a moment to breathe and calm himself down, he was struck by some amazing realizations. The first was, despite being incredibly embarrassing, Joshua’s hazing meant acceptance. It was the kind of thing Andrea and her brother would do, playing pranks at each other. That could only mean that he was truly being accepted into the family, like one of them, not the foreign CEO everyone should be careful with and tiptoe around.

Second, he had completely forgotten about LFG during those days. He used to define himself by his achievements, taking an immeasurable pride in his work, always putting it first. For the first time in a long time, Victor allowed himself to let go of the cover of financial mogul and relentless conqueror, and be just himself. He no longer felt the need to prove anything to anyone, he no longer felt the need to measure his success. He could be just Victor.

Third, he used to hate the unexpected. Victor enjoyed adventure from time to time, but always in a controlled manner, every step of the way completely transparent and expectable. He had been called a control freak innumerous times due to his need to plan and prepare for any setbacks. And yet he had come to a foreign country, knowing close to nothing about its language, sleeping in the house of a stranger, doing things he had never done in his life, and he couldn’t be happier about it. He felt comfortable, at home, relaxed. That’s when it dawned on him. He felt safe because home had been with him all along. Andrea was his home. His solace. As long as she was close to him, laughing and shining that bright light of hers, he was home.

Victor watched her as she bantered with her family, glowing as usual, the world around her always better than what it was before. He took out the spreadsheet he had done a few weeks ago from his mental drawer and inserted his new conclusions. And what was a certainty at first, now felt like a calling: they belonged together, and only a lifetime with her would be acceptable. She was the most precious thing in his life, and he would do whatever it would take to make her happy and safe.

#Growing Pains - Series #growingstronger #mlqc fanfic #victor x oc #victor mlqc #mlqc li zeyan #mister love queens choice #love and producer

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whoaffle · 4 years

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A non-native talks about Singular-they

Yes, most English speakers know how to use singular-they. Yes, nearly all of us understand it, know how to conjugate verbs accordingly and will do it naturally, instinctively, without hesitation in many situations, such as...

“I don’t know who did this thing, but they sure did a good job.”

Yes, it’s true. It feels completely and absolutely natural to me to use singular-they in that situation. I would do it without thinking!

But here’s the thing... Sometimes it’s really not that easy to use singular-they. I’ve seen people say things like “why can’t you just use it? You know how to use it! You do it in that context” - and yes, it’s true! They do know how to use it in that context!!! And, of course, it’s totally fair to say this to people who are actively refusing to use the pronoun just because they are stubborn and can’t accept someone else’s gender identity. But I kind feel the need to add that... misgendering may, unfortunately, happen by accident as well. So when someone accidentally misgenders a person whose pronoun is “they” and justifies that by saying it’s rather weird for them to use singular-they... Please, don’t immediately attack them. Of course, if they insist on that, or don’t apologize at all, or think there’s nothing wrong with what they did, or tell you that you are overreacting over something that is “just a pronoun”, or any other disrespectful shit like these... Those are red flags. Those signs are very bad. That person is being rude and disrespectful.

But if someone does it by accident, apologizes and corrects themselves, then explain that it’s still kinda hard for them to use that pronoun that way... Please believe it. I’ll explain it:

The singular ‘they’ on the context above is not the exact same as the singular ‘they’ we use with specific people whose pronoun is that.

The difference is that the ‘they’ above means, traditionally, “he or she”: “I don’t know who did this, but he or she sure did a good job”. So even though most people are now much more aware of the existence of other genders beyond masculine and feminine, and therefore understand this “they” as “any person of any gender” and not as “a man or a woman”, there is still a huge amount of people, specially older people, who will say this “they” meaning “he or she” specifically, making it, in fact, something totally different. To these people, the usage of “they” as singular in a sentence depends on not knowing who you’re talking about and, therefore, being unable to classify them as either “man” or “woman”. And THIS is why it’s so weird for many people to accept singular-they.

Again, regardless of how hard it may be, there’s literally no excuse for not trying your best and respecting people! If it’s difficult to understand that, to remember, if it sounds unnatural... That means you are not used to it YET. So the next step is getting used to it, and NOT ignoring it and saying you will refuse to use that pronoun that way.

But welp, going back to what really matters: People who do respect your pronouns but may slip sometimes and misgender you by accident just because they are not used to SPECIFIC singular-they, only to GENERAL singular they.

This may happen because of different reasons. To me, for example, using specific singular-they is rather challenging sometimes because my native language doesn’t have an equivalent to that, besides being heavily gendered. Therefore, my whole life, literally ever word I’ve ever learned, every pronoun and every person, had a gender that was either masculine or feminine. We don’t even have “it” to talk about objects, even objects are classified as either “masculine” or “feminine” words. So yeah. 23 years of that in one’s brain makes it pretty hard to acknowledge that a person can have a gender other than masculine or feminine (or have both, or not have any).

So even though to me it feels really natural to say “If a person falls from the first floor, they will probably survive”, it is really not as natural to talk about someone specific that I know and not apply any gender to them. It’s something I’m making a HUGE effort to get used to, but it’s NEW INFO for my brain. And it will take some time to get used to it and MAKE IT NATURAL. Make it instinctive, intuitive... Like learning some language.

To give you another example of how the heavily gendered languages affect our usage of pronouns, it is VERY common for me to be talking in English about an animal, and sometimes even an object, and accidentally refer to it as “he” or “she”. I sometimes come up with sentences like “I was watching that cat walk by and he jumped over that fence”. I know that I should have used “it”. When I write Pokémon fanfics, I know that I should use “it” to talk about Pokémon, but I usually use either “he” or “she”. And when those words don’t have a Portuguese equivalent, the gender that comes up is nearly random. Why do I refer to Giratina as “ela” (she) and Lugia as “ele” (he) in my native language? Who knows! These are just the pronouns my brain gave them. And funny thing? Even though most of the times when I accidentally call something “he” or “she” I use the pronoun that thing has in my language (cat - gato - he; ball - bola - she; elephant - elefante - he; string-puppet - marionete - she), SOMETIMES I use genders that are not even the ones from my language! For example... Sometimes, when I’m on a “bad-english day”, I may end up saying something like “The kid kicked the ball and he flew through the window” - meaning that THE BALL flew through the window. That is... I called the ball “he”, even though the gender of that word is feminine in my own language.

That all to say that... Language processing is confusing sometimes... And the way we see the world is totally connected with how we classify it, that is... Language. So, heavily-gendered languages DO make it harder for people to get used to singular-they. Because the way our brains have learned to function is “we have an object, we classify it as male or female”. Because in my language, “the child plays with the red ball” is “a(feminine) criança(feminine) brinca com a(feminine) bola(feminine) vermelha(feminine)”. Article? Gendered. Noun? Gendered. Adjective? Gendered. And to make it worse, we add articles in front of people’s names, and those articles are gendered accordingly to a person’s gender. We don’t say “Ariel told me about it.” We say “The Ariel told me about it”. If Ariel is a boy, then “O Ariel”, and if they are a girl... “A Ariel”. Gendered.

So pleeeeeeeeeeaseeeeee.... Please understand that some people, like me, may commit misgendering with they, just like we may commit misgendering with “it” to talk about a ball. That does NOT mean I see the ball as a woman! It’s just because our brains are used to applying binary gender to EVERYTHING!...

So yeah... Older people may have trouble to update the meaning of “they” from “he or she” to “any gender” because of how they grew up and what gender meant to them. And non-natives may have trouble with it because of how their relationship with words works. So unless this person is really doing it to be mean or out of prejudice, just correct them, explain to them, talk to them... You don’t need to forgive, you don’t need to accept it. But please don’t attack them or tag them as transphobic, because using that pronoun can be difficult even if you know how to use it generically.

Thanks a lot for reading. I’ll totally doing my best at using singular-they correctly! ^^

Oh and... PLEASE:

IF I EVER MISGENDER YOU, YOUR FRIEND, YOUR FAVORITE SINGER, A CHARACTER YOU LOVE OR AN OC YOU MADE, YOUR PET OR ANY OTHER LIVING BEING... TELL ME!!!! Warn me and PLEASE CORRECT ME!!!

I don’t want to misgender you! I don’t want to disrespect you! I want to use your pronouns correctly, and I want to know if I did it wrong. Believe me, it’s never on purpose. ♥

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tellywoodtrash · 5 years

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khkt 19.08.19 lb

omg this sass queen. i love her. my god, she is all types of goals. the way she's handled this whole thing, fuck, what a badass.

idhar bhi k3g scene chal raha hai. all the parent-child relationships strong af on star plus today (1, 2)

ravi in outright tears here, like a kid who lost his mom in the supermarket.

abhi ke ABHIIIIII pune jaana hai? now we know where rohit gets his impulsiveness from.

lo, poora ghar uth gaya hai. i swear to god i could never survive in a joint fam. having to hang out with like 25 ppl every time something happens, whether good or bad.... what a goddamn nightmare.

sona successfully shaming the dude using his daughter and telling him to never show her his sleazy face again, fucking amaaaaaaazing.

good lord rohit.

ok fwd fwd fwding till she sees it's him. ainvayi mein yeh suspense lamba kheenchna is my pet peeve.

little bit of tellywood irony i absolutely love: every time he loses the watch, it ends up in her hands and leads him to her. mata rani is really beating him over the head with her sign but this idiot is just too dense to see it currently.

ouff phone waale masle.

yes, veena needs to calm down, BUT I HATE WHEN MEN TELL WOMEN TO CALM DOWN. SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU ASSHOLES, THAT'S HER EMOTIONAL SUPPORT CHILD.

whoops she almost let it slip why he went to pune.

lmao as if naren bhai knows ANYTHING that's happening around here.

my poor sad son. yaaar, heterosexual love is the worst. kya haalat bana rakhi hai bande ne.

apparently pune doctors are loath to get out in this weather. shankar vows to get them to mumbai faster.

ok sona is going into parvati mode.

ouff, iska raima jaap. ab toh nafrat ho gayi hai with the very concept of raima.

lol paani ki bottal nahi hai, medical box nahi hai, kuch bhi nahi hai, toh sona is making patti out of her dupatta and rainwater. a regular macgyver only she is.

finally, she saw the phone!

aaaaaaaaand she dropped it. ouff, i hate contrived drama like this.

full family does not seem to understand the concept of a loved one's intuition when something is wrong. IT'S A REAL THING, YOU EMPATHY-LESS BITCHES.

thank god they finally picked up.

of all those things, bukhaar is the most worrying one? not the chot and the behoshi????

phone dead. this episode is really trying The Fucking Most with me with this bullshit.

CHARGER WIRE BHI NAHI HAI. HAI KYA IS GAADI MEIN, HEIN???? CHAAR PAIYYEN TOH HAI NA???? YA WOH BHI KAHIN PE UTAAR RAKH DIYE??????

seedha MLA ko call. must be nice to be rich and connected.

GREAT, THIS DUMBASS CALLED PRANITI AND SAARA BHAANDA PHOD DIYA. OMG CAN YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT YOU SENTIENT BAG OF TOENAIL CLIPPINGS?!?!?!?

idhar inn sabbbbbb ke produced professional melodrame se bhi zyaada drama karne suman aa pohunchi hai.

omfg yes nethra has lost the last fuck she had tonight. YAAAAAAAAAS. TELLLLL HERRRRRRRRRR NETHRAAAAAA.

fuck meeeeee, that was so satisfying. i want sona and nethra to give me personality development lessons coz they are literally the women i want to be when i grow up.

NAREN YOU BETTER SHUT THE HELL YOUR MOUTH BEFORE I COME IN THERE AND SHUT IT FOR YA

ofc this nosy bastard has to also know why rohit went.

AJIT. MY FAVT SMOL BEAN. BEST SIPPY BOY HAI TU. I LOVE YOU WITH ALL MY DAMN HEART, KID.

excoose, yk? why you taking nosy akash's side? you think this will get you brownie points with him re: the whole pooja thing? pls. aisa kuch bhi nahi hone waala.

great now rohan is also jumping in. FUCK, DANGAL CHAL RAHA HAI KYA????? ARE THE SIPPYS GONNA START BRAWLING HERE LIKE THE OBROS/VIRANIS??? (@ me but this is the best fucking thing mais has ever made, and i still go and watch it every few weeks and lmao like it's the first time i'm seeing it.)

also why is today's episode so damn long for this faltoo ki bakchodi? i can't handle this much nonsense drama in one day.

my god shut the fuckkkk uppppppppp all of youuuuuuuu i hate you all. ajit/veena, pls gtfo this room full of fucking lunatics.

vimmi is like uhhhhhhh, if any of you dipshits actually cares, just fyi - rohit's reached the hospital.

hein? itniiiiiii serious thi baat? surgery mein ghusaa diya?

oh. stomach pump kar rahein the coz he drank poisonous sharaab. ofc. jo glenfiddich peeta hoga, uski body will obviously reject desi tharra.

ugh i hate you naren.

this relationship means EVERYTHING to me. fucking everything.

oh ho veena, your son is a grownass man of like 35, pls stop taking responsibility for his poor life decisions. hadh hoti hai.

mom is like OMFG SOMEONE ELSE KNOWS ABOUT RAIMA I CAN FINALLY TALK ABOUT IT TO SOMEONE WITH A FUNCTIONING BRAIN CELL AND SOME EMPATHY JFC THANK GODDDDD

sona's like i'm no ACP pradyuman, but your son has Big Time Issues, ma'am. care to explain?

for perhaps the first time in the history of desi moms, one respectfully declines to comment on her kid’s personal shit. my respect for veena just shot waaaaaaaaaaaay up.

air hostess; is that what veena said raima was? my sound was kinda muddy there.

oh shit, no one else knew about raima? but ajit seemed to hint about it the other day, which led rohit to have his Bekhayali Breakdown???

ok they just confirmed all the things we already knew: rohit operated on raima, and is somehow the cause for her being in a coma rn. it was Extremely Stereotypical Bengali Mom that slapped him.

26th september. ohhhhh boy.

OMG JUST TELL US, DID SHE RUN OVER RAIMA OR NOTTTTTTTT?????

———————————————————————

ok sona, kuch zyaaaaaada ho raha hai. maybe go a little easier on the dude, he's been through a lot last night.

#kahaan hum kahaan tum #khkt lbs #episode liveblogs

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laniakeabooks · 5 years

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Free to Fall by Lauren Miller, A Rant Review by Laniakea

Hello. How are you?

It’s been a long ass time. Why? My dumbass decided to take summer courses. You know those super condensed ones? The ones that make you want to rip your eyeballs out? Yeah... I took three at once. What was I thinking, right? I couldn’t tell you. I regret it.

BUT. I still managed to read. And in July I read this gem of a book dubbed Free to Fall, written by Lauren Miller. And oooooooooh boy do I have shit to say about this... shit. So, brace yourselves, because this is a long and angry one.

So, this is how this review is going to go:

The major issues I had with this book and its narrative (when I say major issues, I mean MAJOR ISSUES… like, dare I say, problematic aspects of this book).

Because it’s me, the deplorable excuse for science/neuroscience that Lauren Miller apparently didn’t find the need to take five minutes to google-check the concepts she was using.

The little things that just kind of twisted the knife of annoyance

You may be saying: “Wait a second, she isn’t going to be talking about anything that the book did right.” And to that I say: “The things that the book did right? Nothing, IN MY OPINION. The thing that Lauren Miller did right, though, was write in a style that jives with my personal tastes. She didn’t beat around the bush to say something, she just said it outright. WHICH I LIKE, because, I don’t have time or the patience to suss out all of those little details and symbolisms just to get to the point that (for example) it’s a beautiful day.” There. Positive point. Hey, I didn’t rate it one star because it had a lot of positives.

So, let’s get started, shall we? (Shout-out to Corrine and Rob because damn, they’ve had a tough year.)

Issue #1: This is the biggest issue I had with this book. It has nothing to do with the plot or the characters or anything like that, but it’s what bothers me the most. What is it, you may ask? Well, it’s the simple fact that everyone in this book (and I have to assume Lauren Miller too) refers to the mentally ill as “crazy”. If you don’t understand my issue with this, let me explain. Calling someone who is mentally ill “crazy” is equivalent to calling a black person a “nigger” or calling a gay person a “faggot”. The word crazy is used as a slur to put someone beneath you, to make them less believable or trustworthy… to dehumanize them. It’s derogatory and offensive. It’s time that we stop using that word when talking about mental illness. It’s 2019 (2014 in the book’s case). Unacceptable.

So, when do we see the mentally ill referred to as crazy in Free to Fall? Throughout the entire book pretty much. It’s just said over and over and over again. But the worst instance? Here it is as a direct quote from page 127 (Oh, and mind you, the character saying this is a psychologist teaching a cognitive psychology class. Let that sink in.):

“You’ve all been given limited access to the Department of Public Health’s medical records database,” Rudd said as he returned to the front of the room.

(*record scratch* Wait a second, high school students having access to medical files? Absolutely not. Would never happen. You usually can’t even get your hands on medical records unless you’re the patient’s doctor. So that’s a technical issue with this book… one of many. Again, five minutes on Google, Lauren. Okay, back to the whole “crazy” thing.)

“Your login has been coded to the research topic you selected, allowing you to review the med records for patients who suffered from the mental illness you’re studying.” He picked up his tablet off his desk and tapped the DPH icon. The app launched on the screen at the front of the room. “Now, I know what some of you are thinking,” he deadpanned as he logged himself in. “You’re hoping this means you’ll be able to prove once and for all that your frenemy in a certified nut job. But, alas, your access is limited to dead crazies, and this particular database is anonymous anyway, which means the only identifying information you’ll have are gender, ethnic origin, and birth and death dates.”

That’s right. Lauren Miller had this character say, “dead crazies”. Dead. Crazies. The note I wrote in the margin right beside this passage? Word for word: FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT. Not sure if I’m directing this at Lauren Miller, Rudd or both, but I stand by it. In reality though, I don’t think there are any words to describe how disgusted and offended (and it’s VERY hard to offend me) I am by those two words. At this point, page 137 out of page 469, I decided this book would get a 1 star and a damning review.

“Oh, you’re being so petty.” Yeah bitch, I sure fucking am.

“It’s just a word.” No bitch, it fucking ain’t.

“You shouldn’t read books that say things like that.” Well bitch, I didn’t know books written in 2014 would use derogatory words like crazy. And I’d rather it be me who reads it and warns people about it than have someone who is vulnerable read it and take it seriously.

I am a huge advocate for mental illness and destigmatizing it. It’s time we stop using this disgusting derogatory word when talking about mental illness. And a good place to start is right here in the media.

Issue #2: Rory and North are preparing to roofie someone. That’s right. Roofie. As in drug them against their will. Assault them. Violate them. And to make it worse, they’re planning to administer it intravenously, because the whole assault thing wasn’t despicable enough. BUT DON’T WORRY YOU GUYS! North says he’ll get some legal drugs from a pharmacist because that makes it okay.

He objects for 0.5 seconds… but it doesn’t last. Here’s how the conversation goes:

“The only question is, how do we take Liam out of commission for a couple of hours?” North asked.

“We roofie him” I say without hesitation. “It’ll incapacitate him without killing him, and it’ll screw with his memories.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll just grab the bottle of date-rape pills I have in my medicine cabinet.”

“Not pills,” I corrected. “Has to be injectable. There’s no way we can guarantee that he’ll drink whatever we put it in.”

North gave me an incredulous look. “You’re actually serious?”

“What? It’s what the society uses. And it’ll do exactly what we need it to do.

North tugged at this Mohawk. “I know we don’t have time to get into this right now, but, holy crap, Rory, this shit is seriously messed up.”

“You’re right. Not the time. We have to go buy roofies.”

“Where, at Walgreens? I’m sure we’ll find them right next to the Advil.”

I crossed my arms, irritated by the sarcasm. “You’re a guy with a Mohawk and tattoos. Don’t you know people?”

“People with Rohypnol?”

“So, you don’t know anyone who can get it?”

He started to shake his head but seemed to think of something. “One of my clients is a pharmacist in Greenfield. I could probably get a prescription sleeping serum from him. Something potent but legal. I can message him from my apartment.”

North said it, this is so messed up… but is surpasses the “messed up” title and deserves the “fucked up” title. By the way, they never talk about it again. Getting “legal” drugs does not make the act of drugging someone okay. Ever. And on top of that Rory wants someone that will mess with Liam’s memories? I guess assaulting him and revoking his control over his own body wasn’t evil enough for Rory, she had to fuck with the essence of who he is.

Moving on to the… “science”. Listen, I get it, this is fiction. It doesn’t have to be 100% in line with reality. But do you know what isn’t fiction? Neuroscience. Science that has already been researched and accepted. Why does this matter so much to me? I hate misinformation. It leads to fear and people doing stupid shit. Also, I am an aspiring neuroscientist myself and would like for people to understand how the brain works on a physiological (and psychological) level. That way there will be less of that “vaccines cause autism” and “sunscreen causes ADHD” crap, because they don’t, by the way.

Lauren Miller latches onto the term “synaptic pruning”. This is a real thing. During your first few months of life, unused/rarely used neurons will die (don’t worry, this is perfectly normal and an essential step in neurodevelopment). How does Lauren Miller incorporate this into her story?

“Now we knew that the inner voice was nothing more than a glitch in the brain’s circuitry, something to do with ‘synaptic pruning’ and the development of the frontal lobe.” (p.13)

My response went something like this: NoOOoooOOOOoOo! It’s only page 13 and I’m being subjected to poorly researched scienceeeeeeEEEeEEEeeee.

It would have taken five minutes on Google to look up: Which areas of the brain have to do with hearing voices? Answer: temporal and frontal lobes. Done. Next: why do people hear voices? Answer: potentially neuronal death in said brain regions (not synaptic pruning, very different concepts). Why? We don’t know yet. Anyway, the voice they are talking about here is “The Doubt” which is basically intuition so that would most likely relate to the hippocampus (and other memory-storing regions) and the prefrontal cortex. But then again, “The Doubt” is supposed to be altruism… but it’s written as intuition, so I’m just confused.

Next in bad (neuro)science, Lauren Miller claims that enzymes for memories (this relates back to the whole roofie scene where Rory wants to mess with Liam’s memories too). Basically, neurotransmitters are responsible for memories, namely glutamate and dopamine. I’ll be talking about glutamate here because dopamine forms the “do that again because it made us feel good” kind of memory, and glutamate forms the kind of memory Lauren Miller is referring to. You need to glutamate for LTP (basically a memory) which, in short, is strengthening the connection between two neurons. If you’ve ever heard the term “Neurons that fire together wire together.”, that’s exactly what I’m talking about here. So, no, enzymes do not form memories. (P.S. LTP is really interesting... if you’re interested in brains, so check it out!)

Onto “SynOx” (synthetic oxytocin) which is really, from what I understand, simulates oxytocin but activating oxytocin receptors on neurons (Lauren Miller doesn’t go into this much detail on how SynOx works, but I’m just trying to understand by talking through it so bear with me). First of all, Lauren Miller describes oxytocin as the “love drug” which isn’t exactly true… it’s more of a bonding “drug”. Love is a little but more complicated than oxytocin release. Not that big of a deal, but I thought I’d point it out.

Unfortunately, SynOx has a major role in the plot… and it doesn’t… work. Basically, the big bad corporation is relying on SynOx to make consumers trust their products unconditionally by injecting people with SynOx nanobots under the guise of a flu shot. That way the nanobots can get into their brains and they can be forced to trust everything Lux suggests. Essential mass mind control. Theoretically that could actually work… BUT the nanobots would never be able to cross the blood-brain barrier to actually get into the brain, and therefor wouldn’t be there to allow Gnosis to control people. Did that make sense? Basically, SynOx is the soldier, the brain is enemy headquarters. But enemy headquarters is so highly reinforced that the soldier can’t get in to do its job, so it’s left out in the cold with no power. Maybe I just confused you, but what I’m saying is that this SynOx would never work as a mind control device unless it is injected directly into the brain (or even spinal cord)… through the skull and everything. That being said, the evil plot would have failed form the get-go.

And yes, I do hate being this rational sometimes because suspension of disbelief is very difficult and makes it very hard for me to enjoy some works of fiction.

Now the little things.

In the synopsis: “Rory Vaugh: a brainy sixteen-year-old…”. She’s also a “hepta” which means she shows aptitude in all seven liberal arts at Theden and makes her the smartest kid at school. Well, she sure doesn’t act it.

She can’t tell the difference between Arabic and Hebrew writing. I mean… are you serious? Have you seen them? They look nothing alike.

Doesn’t see the value of experiments in ethics such as the Trolley Problem. I mean, one of the liberal arts is philosophy and she’s supposed to be naturally gifted at it… but I guess not.

Proudly states she took human anatomy in grade nine (and considers herself an expert from that one class in middle school)… but doesn’t know how ABO relates to blood. I guess she forgot the mention she failed the class.

Also seems to consider herself an expert in genetics but never thinks to ask herself as to why she and her father share zero genetic traits.

She can’t figure out a simple riddle (You know that one about the letter e? Yeah that one)

It takes her forever to figure out who her biological father is (should be glaringly obvious from a certain physical description and all the other evidence Rory gathers)

Doesn’t know what a USB is or what it does (Oh, I’ll get to that in a minute)

There’s so much more… but the review would have to be a whole book if I were to list them all. Basically, if you’re going to call your character a genius, MAKE SURE THEY ACT LIKE ONE.

It seems that Lauren Miller forgot Rory’s blood type (little detail, I know), but instead of going back to look at what she wrote, she just gives her a new blood type. Rory goes from being A+ at p .226 to being AB+ at p. 237/238. That’s just lazy.

When Rory finds out the man that raised her and loved her doesn’t share her genetics, all of a sudden, he’s no longer her dad. Imagine being a vulnerable teenager who is being raised and loved by someone who may not be biologically related to you and reading that a character you may look up to goes through the same thing and says that that makes that parent’s love irrelevant. They aren’t related to you, so they’re not your dad/mum. How sad.

Now, the USB thing. This book is set in the mid-2030s and they don’t use USBs anymore. Basically, they’re obsolete technology. And that’s fine! There will come a day when this is a reality. Here’s the thing, though: Rory the “genius” doesn’t know what it is or what it does. You expect me to believe that? When I see a floppy disk (which I have never used), I know what it is and how it works. Even a telegraph! I’ve only ever seen pictures of telegraphs, but I know what they are and what they do.

Page 229. North says (in response to Rory talking about research and science):

“Whose research are we talking about here?” He scoffed. “’Science’ with a capital S? The same geniuses who said the Earth was the center of the universe?”

Um… the church actually said that. And then they murdered anyone who dared to say otherwise. Wrong “geniuses”, genius. (Also, scientists rethink their beliefs all the time, and are more than willing to accept discoveries that overwrite their previous beliefs as long as there is evidence. Just saying.)

Rory goes from relying solely on Lux to make her decision to criticizing everyone who does the exact same thing within a few pages. Hypocrisy, not my favourite.

Hershey is described as a naturally beautiful woman who wears makeup to highlight that beauty… but the tone of the narration suggests that that’s a bad thing? Gross.

When they are preparing for the final boss fight, Rory wants North to write an algorithm that will reverse Lux’s algorithm. North says that it would take weeks for a professional programmer to write an algorithm like that… than proceeds to do it overnight. And manages to get some roofies to assault Liam.

North gifts Rory with a necklace that contains a tracking device and a camera… and she thinks that’s romantic and sweet because hE cArEs. I… have no words for how creepy (and honestly bordering on abusive) that is.

So, in conclusion, I feel that Lauren Miller wrote an offensive mess that didn’t know what the hell it was talking about, topped with despicable (and flat) characters that think drugging someone against their will is okay as long as the drug you use is legal.

The end! 😊

Oh yeah, 1 out of 5 stars!

#free to fall #lauren miller #book review #rant review #books #young adult books #goodreads #bookstragram #booklr #read #tbr #to be read #dystopia #sci fi #science fiction

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fakemuggle529-blog · 5 years

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"HARRY DID YOU PUT YOUR NAME IN THE GOBLET OF FIRE?!?!"

I could go on for days about the differences between the HP books and the movies (just ask my wife). 7 books, 8 movies, 4 directors, 2 screenplay writers, a myriad of actors or varying levels of talent, but this 1 line haunts every single Harry Potter fan. One comment about this line was "we're never going to get over this, are we?" That one comment sparked this post, which was originally meant to be a list of my least favorite movie moments and why.

But Harry Potter is my favorite subject, and my rant about this became a separate post to answer that rhetorical question.

Simply put, no, we're not going to get over it. But why won't we?

As with any adaptation, since the world isn't ready for a 10 hour movie based on 1 book, bits and pieces of the Harry Potter books needed to be cut out. (I'd be down for that movie, but I digress)

Things like the Draco/Pansy romance, Rita Skeeter being an unregistered Animagus, or winning the Quidditch cup ultimately don't have an impact on the plot of "evil wizard finds path to immortality, boy wizard must stop him with the help of his friends," so they can get cut pretty easily.

Even things like the Marauders' full moon adventures and creation of the Map, Umbridge setting the dementors on Harry, and Neville's parents' fate are secondary material, meant to give more weight to the main story:

- The world would still be in mortal danger without four teenagers creating a map of their school, but that map helped stop that danger;

- Umbridge would still be a cruel bitch if we hadn't known she sent the dementors, but that tidbit show her own demented state of mind and how far she'll go to get what she wants.

- and we'd still want Voldemort dead even if we'd never heard of Neville Longbottom, because we've seen the impact he had on Harry. The info about the Longbottoms just gives more depth to the characters involved.

But regardless of what they left out, the basics stayed the same: "evil wizard finds path to immortality, boy wizard must stop him with the help of his friends" continued, except the written version had more information than the visual. The fans already knew what was missing, so our brains filled it in for us. And leaving out that bit of info for the adaptation process allowed people who hadn't read the books to know what was going on and how the information fit together, even if they had less information than the fans.

(I think of the miniseries Chernobyl, when the general asks how a nuclear reactor works. He gets a bare bones explanation, and can parrot it back to his subordinates later. He might not me able to do the math or understand all of the technical jargon, but that simple explanation has given him enough info to get things going.)

As the movies progressed, we saw more and more get left out since the books only got longer, or more in depth, or both which each new addition, but no matter what, that skeleton was still there, "evil wizard finds path to immortality, boy wizard must stop him with the help of his friends." And the 'friends' part was even more accurate with supporting characters!

Hermione was the nerd from the books, Ron was the goofy best friend, Neville was the underdog, Draco was the bully!

Every single character was fitting their book counterparts perfectly, they just couldn't be as in depth in this medium!

Lucius was the oily bastard you knew he was, Sirius was the Godfather who wanted to be there but couldn't, Bellatrix was the psychotic fanatic who'd do anything to earn Voldemort's praise, Dumbledo--

And that's where the similarities stop.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is a lot of things: he's the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot (the Wizard High Court), honoree of the highest medal of Honor possible for Wizards, one of the most notable contributors to the field of alchemy, and from what I understand a PHENOMENAL dancer.

He's human, and fallible like any other human, but he is definitely not stupid.

Just in book 1, before Ms. Rowling had even gotten into her stride as a storyteller, we see Dumbledore:

Send Harry to the safest place possible; watch over him as much as possible; send updated owls to Harry with every change of address; send Hagrid as the most friendly way to introduce Harry to his true world; Send Harry the invisibility cloak as a connection to his dad; say that he 'doesn't need a cloak to become invisible;' RETURN the cloak after Harry lost it; and turned around on his trip to London on some intuition, barely managing to save Harry's life.

While he might not be the warmest of people, probably due to a tendency to think too deeply, Dumbledore shows the strongest of power when he needs to fight, the quickest of words when he needs to talk, and what seems to be a clear sense of right and wrong (the waters get a little murky with that last one, but he stands up for what he sees is wrong, regardless of what he thought at 18), and a calm dignity, even while getting his feathers ruffled.

And that's exactly why this gets under our skin so much.

As fans of the books, we see Dumbledore do it all, in great detail. Even that infamous line is ended with "he asked CALMLY" (All Caps is my addition). We see Dumbledore:

-sit next to an 11-year old who nearly died recently and promise to some day tell him about the first time he nearly died as an infant AT THE HANDS OF THE SAME GUY... Calmly, because this is a conversation he's been dreading for years, so he's prepared.

- hire a clear fraud just to fill his staff; have two 12-year olds crash an illegal flying car into a living tree AND talk down the teacher that wanted to skin them alive; deal with an unknown threat that was attempting to kill his students; get forcibly removed from the school, only return ready to console grieving parents AND watch the same 12 year olds from earlier emerge from an unfindable chamber WITH the 11 year old who was thought to be dead....calmly, because he's lost loved ones, and he knows what it is to grieve.

- Hire a werewolf; keep that a secret from his students, their parents, and maybe even the government; and have two 13 year olds illegally time travel to save an animal an a convicted felon...calmly, because an innocent man's life is important.

- Host a death tournament specially designed to 'not kill;' and slowly watch a plot to revive to worst wizard ever unfold before his eyes....calmly, because he didn't have all of the information yet.

- Get slandered by the entirety of the government, and forcibly removed from his position in the Courts; have a government spy forced onto his staff; purposefully pissed her off; evade arrest and go on the lam...calmly, because he knows he's right, and the truth will out. THEN come back, fight every Death Eater in the ministry, fight Voldemort, convince the government not to arrest him, then talk Harry through his Godfather's death....calmly, because he knows he messed up, he even says that Harry show be so much angrier, and 'please, by all means, destroy my possessions'.

- Find out he's dying; find out there's a hit on him; recruit an old colleague, and use Harry as a means to reveal a crucial part of Voldemort's past, which he's been teaching to Harry all year; find a horcrux as well as pass on as much info about them as possible; AND get psychologically tortured mere moments before being murdered....

- AND, postmortem, we find out that Dumbledore has been playing pretty much everybody, but especially Harry....calmly, because for once, it really was "the greater good."

But he was fun loving too, maybe childishly so due to the fact that he had to grow up so fast.

- Some of His first words after Harry starts school are, "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! And tweak!"

- He did what was best for the school AND Firenze by hiring the centaur, but he clearly enjoyed shoving it in Umbridge's face.

- and let's not forget the night he picked Harry up front Privet Drive. He obviously made those glasses hit the Dursleys as some small payback for how they treated Harry.

That's Dumbledore. Serious, wise, and seriously wise, with a penchant for mischief.

The movie Dumbledore gave none of that, especially with that terrible, terrible reading of that line.

That one line changed the entire character of Albus Dumbledore. Instead of the cool, calm, and collected man he always was, he lost control. In front of his foreign and governmental guests nonetheless. That would never happen to Dumbledore. He's seen the signs, and can tell something is up. That's WHY he hired "Mad-Eye."

Even that stupid Christmas scene added to the HBP movie, as much as I freaking HATE it, doesn't CHANGE anything. The Death Eaters attack and for some reason burn the house down. Boo hoo. Nobody gets hurt, nobody dies, the house is back to normal the next movie. No big deal. They just wanted to add to the drama some, instead of the usual deduction from the cuts.

This change is why we hate SO many other adaptations, or "cuts" as they call them.

-Those of us who are old enough to remember will freaking riot over the "Han shot first" argument, because we knew that there was no way in hell Han would sit and let Greedo take a shot at him, ESPECIALLY since they freaking showed it first, then changed it later.

-It's why we all hate M. Night. Shyamalan's fucking guts, because he took the single greatest cartoon masterpiece ever created, and tried to make it better. The one scene that sticks out to me is when they're trying to escape the earth-bending prison camp. First, they had to be removed from the land entirely, or their pride would cause a rebellion instantly; second, 6 benders did what we see Toph do her first lesson as a blind toddler. Unlike Lucas, Shyamalan wasn't trying to appease anyone. He just wanted a name for himself, so he decided to take on the most popular cartoon ever. Pass or fail, he has that fame now.

Some of the fault might lie with the director, or possibly even the actor himself. Michael Gambon is a respected actor, and probably had a sense for how the character would play, even if that sense might not have been based in the books. Couple that with multiple directors by this point, multiple actors having playing Dumbledore, and the books still gradually coming out, and the information and range for the character of Dumbledore might have been quite limited.

And let's not forget those cuts that needed to be made. With a shorter story comes a need to get the information across faster.

Instead of mulling it over for a moment while the rest of the group argues (and probably for a good year or so by this point), and calmly asking Harry if he entered himself in the tournament, the quick explosion both saves time by cutting the opening argument AND gives the audience a cue for suspense. They know something is wrong NOW, and they don't know what, but they'll find out as the people on screen do.

Personally, I believe that this system can be broken by a rather simple solution: TV show.

Instead of one movie, each book gets one Season, and every couple chapters or so gets an episode. I foresee problems as we get to the later books as opposed to the early one, since they start getting thick AF with GoF.

But I think the pros outweigh the cons.

-The locations for HP are actually incredibly limited. They pretty much go back and forth between the same dozen locations all seven books, so you could make sets to switch out whenever needed, and just reuse the exact same sets for seven straight years, with little to no change in between.

- We have all of the books now, and then some, and then some extra BS on top of that, and the plethora of headcanon out there, so we have more than enough information for every single thing about this place, excluding literal physical dimensions. Find a kid who looks like Harry, another actor who can flawlessly pull off Snape, and some old guy who wants to be goofy sometimes, and you've got gold.

- We could actually include the minor characters too. Peeves could pop in and out every few episodes, Dobby can play the role he was meant for, Kreacher can exist as more than 3 lines. The vanishing cabinet could actually be introduced in year 2, then addressed in Year 5, then revealed properly in year 6. Moaning Myrtle has her scenes, Bill Weasley has his, Tonks could be the most important female character besides Hermione or Ginny.....

Anyway, you get the picture. This whole thing was inspired by one comment, and I've been working on this for almost 6 hours now. Pretty sure I've worked harder in this post than any papers in high school...

Hollywood, if by some miracle you see this, I'll totally be a screen writer for the Harry Potter TV show. In the meantime, goodnight.

#harry potter series #harry potter #albus dumbledore #dumbledore #draco malfoy #ron weasley #hermione granger #sirius black #molly weasley

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starspatter · 5 years

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WIP Challenge

Tagged by: @summertime-children

Tagging: @astrologista, @atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine, @benditlikegumby, @cryptoriawebb, @ibmiller, @iceperialprincess, and @otherwise-uncolonized

Challenge: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

I'll also do what deta did and post comments + short fragments. (Be warned it'll be very long though, and most of these are actually Pokémon fics since I was a much more prolific writer when I was younger, and that was the fandom I wrote mainly for.) I also won't be including "Heroes and Thieves" on here (or any DC/superhero stuff really since I’ve essentially “done” everything I had planned for now), as *technically* it is all already completed in draft form, and I'd like to keep things a surprise for whenever I do end up posting~

Hero and Seek

“Well, we’re all together now, so let’s have some fun, all right? Don’t worry, it’s really simple. One person is the ‘demon’, and the others have to hide from him.” “Eh? A ‘demon’? But that’s scary!” Three pairs of eyes turned up to her in fear. Those eyes, which screamed and streamed the stark color of blood the first time she saw them – not just from tears, but from the ‘monster’ they believed dwelled deep within. She thought for a moment, then removed her scarf. “How about this then? Whoever’s the ‘hero’ has to find and rescue the others. It’s a very important Blindfold Brigade mission!”

I’ll start with the one Kagepro fic I did attempt at least, which I described previously here, but is basically about Ayano + the Meka Trio playing “Hide and Seek” for the first time. (I actually had it originally titled as that but just came up with this new version on the spot lol I’m so clever~) For some reason I’ve always been hesitant about reading/writing Kagefic, but I actually got a fair bit farther in this than I thought, so perhaps I should try to finish it someday... Princes and Frogs

“K-Koizumi-senpai… Um… Please go out with me!” Itsuki stared down at the tiny underclassman, watching a rose mantle spread slowly over her cheeks as she gazed back with shy, but determined hope in her bespectacled eyes. The older boy could make out his own handsome face reflected off the lens, a virtual image embellished by sparkling hearts and stars. With dim satisfaction and relief, Itsuki ensured that his bright, patient smile betrayed no hint of the weary sigh that whispered behind it.

This is an intro excerpt of the first chapter I planned to write for an ItsuHaru fic from The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, which I only ever posted the prologue for. ItsuHaru was my first obsessive OTP, and I still think about returning to this story someday (especially since I have now proven to myself I *can* finish a full chapter fic if I put my mind to it), but it’s been so long I feel like I’d need to refresh my memory of the whole series/am still holding out hope for a Season 3 to motivate me again. *shot*

Fall to Pieces

As Itsuki stared at Yuki’s vacant visage, his resentment kept building. His hands clenched, rigidly gripping the edge of the table. Somehow, it just didn’t seem fair. That she could so easily ignore the madness fate had dealt them, never reveal any signs of suffering or bitterness towards her situation, and yet always, always wear the same damn expression on her face. How could she possibly stand it? He can’t stand it. (any more)

An ItsuYuki one-shot, where Itsuki basically blows up at her from pent-up frustration over having to wear a mask all the time and his hidden feelings for Haruhi. The two start to form a connection over their respective “unrequited loves”/understanding of each other’s pain, and one thing leads to another... Like “Heroes and Thieves”, this is in fact technically “complete”, since I actually used the leftover steam from the former towards finishing at least one thing I started a long time ago - although I’m still not sure I’m totally satisfied with it/kinda want to wait to figure out what I’m doing with my other ItsuHaru fics before I publish it by itself. (Incidentally the working title comes from an Avril Lavigne song lol.)

Little White Lies

“Perhaps the best thing for the princess would have been to fall in love. But how a princess who had no gravity could fall into anything is a difficulty--perhaps the difficulty.” -George MacDonald, The Light Princess - Haruhi Suzumiya was walking on air. Itsuki could tell by the way she glided into the clubroom, sailing like a paper airplane – or a balloon with an inflated ego to match.

...Yeah that’s as far as I got with this. This was meant to be a “White Day” story, which is Japan’s “answer holiday” to Valentine’s Day, where guys reciprocate by giving gifts to the girls who gave them chocolates. I always wondered how the boys actually responded in-universe, and I imagine Itsuki secretly stressing out a lot about taking care to not upstage Kyon, but at the same time wanting to sincerely express his genuine appreciation and feelings towards Haruhi - whatever they may be. In the end, he settles on a copy of “The Light Princess” by George MacDonald, which I highly recommend reading since it reminds me so much of this pair, and in general is such a fun and snappy “tongue-in-cheek” take on the fairytale genre. Sora in Wonderland

But wait- this one was a bit different from all its brothers and sisters. For one thing, it was wearing a fancy waistcoat with pockets- and sleeves that were far too long for it. As soon as it passed by her head, it stopped and slowly turned its head around to stare directly at her with its huge circular yellow eyes. Sora stared vacantly back for a full five seconds before the information registered in her brain and she suddenly yelled, “Hey!”, and sat bolt upright. The Heartless panicked upon hearing her voice and fled at top speed across the white sands, headed towards an opening in the rocks; Sora jumped down off her perch and immediately chased after it, no longer caring about the heat. The Heartless hastily disappeared inside the cave, and Sora soon followed after, determined to catch the freaky little thing and ask it some questions, like what it was doing on the island at this time, and where on earth did it get a waistcoat.

OKAY SO I TOTALLY FORGOT THIS WAS A THING but apparently I tried to write a Kingdom Hearts parody of “Alice in Wonderland” lmao. I’ve never actually played the games (aside from half of CoM), but it was probably inspired by a crossover art my friend drew? ^^; Also Sora is a girl in this bc that’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it. XP *shot* Note: The following fics are all Pokémon-related so I’ll just be listing them in roughly chronological order (from most recent to ancient, although they’re all pretty old at this point). Stranger

The elder slowly rose to his feet, gazing at the boy, the champion, the stranger. “In all this time, why didn’t you come back? You could have seen for yourself how she was.” Lance wanted to yell something defiant, like a child. But he wasn’t a child. Children were forgiven for their mistakes. And he didn’t want to be forgiven. The professor’s ancient hand came to rest on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s the way this town works. We don’t talk about things that happen outside our own world. Maybe it was too long ago – too late for you to understand.” Lance didn’t say anything. “At least talk to Delia. She’s been wanting to see you.” “Sorry. It’s too late.” “You’re a bastard.” “I know.”

So this looks to be among the last things I’d written before taking a long break from fanfiction circa... 2007, jeeze. Over 10 years, huh. But, I think it speaks a certain amount of maturity that it’s the piece I liked most upon rediscovering. It’s based on an idea I once had that Lance was (unknowingly) Gary Oak’s father, and he was friends/rivals with Ash’s father, who originally won the title of Champion but relinquished it so he could be with his “wife” and kid (or rather, then-pregnant teenage girlfriend). *Something* happened though (I forget what I had in mind) and he ended up dying, leaving Lance bitter and depressed so he refused to return to Pallet Town because of too many painful memories. (Though he *cough* “comforted” their other female childhood friend for one night of drunken grief before he left. ;() What I like most about it honestly is the parallels bw Lance’s relationship with Ash’s dad and their sons’, and that amidst all the angst I enjoyed portraying the earnest energy and optimism of Ketchum(?) senior (”like father like son” after all). I was definitely inspired by Mitsuki’s father in Full Moon wo Sagashite/Maes Hughes from Fullmetal Alchemist by making him a total “dork dad” who’d brag about his (illegitimate) family on national TV during the championship tournament lol.

Ihavenoidea

Either way, I get the feeling this really wasn’t what I had in mind when I made my decision to quit training. I mean that in an intuitive sort of way. Like, sometimes I feel as if I’m not meant to be here, like my life should have ended up differently someplace else. Perhaps this is just one of those weird inconsistencies I told you about. Perhaps not. Even after all that’s happened to me recently, I still can’t really be sure about it.

...No seriously, I have no idea where I was going with this. As far as I can tell it’s written from the POV of Gary Oak, whom I’ve always had a lot of... “complicated” feelings towards. It probably has something to do with another concept I’ll discuss next, although for some reason it sounds like I was going for some sort of AU? *shrug* By contrast to the above, it reads like a whiny teenager complaining about his life - which makes me cringe but is probably an accurate portrayal of who I was at the time. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This one was actually dated a little after the previous, so my best guess is it was some kind of vent rant where I would “give up” writing/creating and “childish” ideals for a while, as I was wont to do - but I still always come back to it somehow... RainbowMolly

Molly stepped out from the car and onto the dusty road, her heart beating wildly. She could hardly believe she was actually here, of all places. The ride had been long and mind-numbing with anticipation, and now that they’d finally arrived at the destination, it all felt somewhat surreal to her. A small bear clambered out from the vehicle, joining her as she stopped to take in the rustic view that met her bright blue eyes. She smiled and picked up her Teddiursa, cuddling its warm, fuzzy body close to her own. Her gaze traveled down the road which stretched in both directions, houses lining up against its margins. She followed it with her eyes towards a hill in the distance, on top of which sat what looked like a quaint little farmhouse with a windmill, turning in the summer breeze. She breathed in the country air, catching whiff of a faint salt smell from an ocean in the distance. So this was Pallet Town.

...Why I didn’t actually name the file “Chasing Rainbows” - which was the title I had planned for this - I don’t know. This dates back to an old idea I had where I believed Molly Hale from the third Pokémon movie was secretly the true “God” of the Pokémon world - in the sense that the entire universe was an unknowing fantasy of her own creation, similar to Haruhi Suzumiya (ok fine this was totally a crossover/rip-off of the same concept so sue me OTL). In a place where children never seem to grow up and can go on grand fantastical adventures forever, Gary always struck me as an anomaly who willingly *chose* to forego such a life to pursue more “adult” interests by becoming a researcher. So I saw him as filling the role of “Kyon” - the cynical narrator who was destined to ground “God” and bring her back down to earth, but at the same time be won over by her innocence and charm and learn to appreciate “kids’ stuff” again. However, the Legendaries were actually aware of the power Molly holds, and so saw Gary as a threat to their very being - as by “waking” the dreamer and having her face reality meant erasing their kinds’ entire existence. As the “apocalypse” nearly occurred in the third film, Mew and Celebi took on human disguises (in the form of May and Max respectively) to investigate Ash, who was able to calm Molly and “save” the world by “perpetuating” the delusion (and whom Molly totally has a crush on btw *shot*). So it’s a bit of a love triangle lol, with Mew and Celebi (*cough* an alien and a time traveler, get it? *shot*) acting as mediators/interference. (Although Mew might’ve secretly shipped Gary and Molly herself. ;O)

Betrayal

And these blades, these damned scythes that attached themselves to my arms when I was born, a curse upon me since birth, though it had not been apparent up until now. They were covered with blood, the vital crimson liquid that flows through our bodies, now dripping down the steel surface in a webbed pattern, drops beginning to splatter the pure, emerald grass below. The arm felt heavy and weak as I tried to lift it, as if it did not belong to me, but that was only a wishful thought. I gazed calmly at it, inspecting the intricate designs the flow of the substance had created, as if it were an abstract piece of artwork. Tentatively, a pink tongue rolled out and caught a small droplet of it just before it fell from the sharp edge, just to convince myself that it was real. The semi-sweet, metallic taste confirmed this. I had indeed taken these men’s lives, just as I had taken hers.

So I remember this was written from the POV of a Scyther who seemingly went on a murderous rampage. I only know that I wanted to give him an “Edward Scissorhands”-like story, since the idea of having such sharp objects attached to one’s limbs so that one could never directly “touch” another without being a danger is pretty tragic. I suspect “her” was someone (a human?) he cared about but killed by accident, and after that he was only seen as a symbol of power/treated as a tool to incite fear before eventually rebelling against his “master”... Roses

“If you love someone, you should give them something that’s yours. That shows how much you care for them.” In the darkness, I pictured his smiling face, explaining to me as he wrapped a present for his girlfriend. His blue eyes were shining with a sort of spirit unfamiliar to me; I guessed, a feeling of love.

Another “dark” take on a Pokémon’s biology (I really liked writing explorations of those back then lol), this time of Roselia. The idea was that a Roselia was so in love with her trainer that she would do anything for him - including allow him to cut off her arms so he could give them to his girlfriend. I actually ended up turning it into a poem at one point:

Love is like a rose they say, And affection leads to grief they warned. For in the end love betrays, Its Beauty maimed by a poisoned thorn. You gave me pure water with a smile. Your cheerful face became my sun. I offered up my blood to you, And in return demanded none. Chop off my wrists, and tie them together. I’ll gladly bleed myself to death. In order to give you that which I hold most dear. My dear, my dear, Won’t you accept this bouquet? You take it, smiling warily. A blush creeps onto your face. And in those eyes I can see A garden of roses stretched out, Composing a wondrous place. Then you bound my hands in lace, And brought them to the girl next door. You presented them to her with grace. … My blood continued to pour.

Fanfic

She smiled at me, although something about her expression indicated something wasn't quite right. I watched as she glanced over towards the west, her gaze lingering momentarily on the setting sun. The glowing, orange sphere was slowly sinking behind the distant mountains, peaks cloaked in a pale, lavender haze illuminated by flickering beams of gold and scarlet cast across the horizon.

More accurately, I found this buried in a “catch-all” file where I had several (mostly finished) fics saved. This was meant to be from the POV of an Eevee who had just evolved - supposedly into an Espeon due to happiness and bond with her trainer, which is what both wanted. However, since it took place at sunset, she didn’t realize she had become an Umbreon instead, and her trainer ended up abandoning her for it. ;( It was a warm

Children’s shrieks and laughter echoed across the park as they flocked towards each other, and soon were chasing one another round the playground, weaving in and out between the swings as they partook in an innocent game of Tag. One child was It; she was trying desperately to catch one of her friends so that they would take over the job instead. Then it would be her turn to run away, for none of them wished to play the loathsome role of It. Or was it because they feared being tainted by the person’s touch? It must have been one of the two, for while she would struggle to reach them, catch hold of them, they would only flee, thoroughly enjoying the fact that they were vexing her. Twice she nearly caught one. Her fingertips were almost within reach of one of the other girls’ dresses, whose russet tresses were flowing wildly from the rush of movement and shining with golden highlights as the rays of the sun struck individual strands. The target shrieked and shook her head, whisking her skirt free in time to escape capture, laughing with glee at the sight of the girl left behind, miserable and alone.

Yeah I totally just went with the default beginning of the first sentence lol. I guess this comes full circle with the first Kagepro fic I mentioned (although I’m not even sure I was aware back then that the Japanese version of the game literally called “It” a “demon”, which is even more fitting). I believe this was part of a Pokémon series I was writing involving a creepy little girl and Mewtwo who would bring about the end of the world or something like that, but generally I guess I was just going for a “Catcher in the Rye” feel. *shrug* Golden Lights

The pale, rosy fingers of dawn were filtering in through the Granite Cave entrance, basking a small area near the opening in pinkish illumination. Just out of reach of its expanse sat little Mika, huddled in the gloom of the shadows, watching the light creep steadily towards her as the glowing ball of fire rose slowly towards the East. She knew about the Light that came from Outside. There were plenty other small apertures broken into the cavern walls and ceiling that allowed some thin streams of gold brilliance to trickle through. She had always done well to avoid them. The brightness was like poison to her skin. But they weren’t the Lights she’d had described to her by the old Crobat that always resided now deeper within the underground chambers, dozing now, most likely. He wouldn’t awaken until night came round, and she did not wish to rouse him and perhaps disturb him from a pleasant dream. She was very wise about things like that, being the young child that she was. Still, she would have liked to hear a story to comfort her just then.

Last one I could find, about a Sableye who, like Icarus, literally “flew too close to the sun”. In this interpretation I imagined that Sableye were creatures who could not stand sunlight at all, as it would cause their skin to burn. But Mika (pronounced like “Mica”) always dreamed of going outside to see the “Light” anyway. She was eventually tempted by Mew to leave the cavern under her angelic PROTECTion and step into the Light, who was acting as Ho-Oh’s messenger to “recruit” souls to “live eternal as an element of Ho-Oh’s Guarding Flame“, as the PROTECT faded and a “holy fire” began to spread. I guess I was going for a Biblical/”Rapture”-esque reference. (...Man I sure was obsessed with the endtimes as a kid. *shot*)

#Kagerou Project #Tateyama Ayano #Mekakushi Trio #Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu #ItsuHaru #ItsuYuki #Pokemon #Gary Oak #Molly Hale #fanfiction #starstories #astrologista #atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine #benditlikegumby #cryptoriawebb #ibmiller #iceperialprincess #otherwise uncolonized

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nerdybubblebee · 6 years

Text

Transcendent

Chapter 2: Found You

Chapter Summary:

Frantically running through the crowd in pursuit of his dream lover, Jon ponders whether this was all too outlandish? Would he even find her? If he did, how would he convince her that they were meant to be with each other?

Ao3 link here: Prologue. Chap 1. Chap 2.

Hope you guys like this update~

Gonna thank you every time i post an update hehe @midqueenally Thank you for the moodboard and the constant support in everything Jonerys I do. :)

Skirting around a stall selling an assortment of roasted nuts with a string of ‘excuse me’s and ‘coming through’s upon his tongue, Jon darted through the crowd, oblivious of the disgruntled sounds of exclamations and curious looks from the nameless people roaming the market. His eyes frantically scanned the throngs of flâneurs and tourists, searching for that one person whose visage had only thus far lived in his mind. Even the delicious smells of various food items swirling around him did nothing to draw his attention away from his search. Where was she? How could she even exist in this time? She couldn’t, could she? If she did, was she immortal? Why the heck was he even trusting the words of a psychic who was very likely to be a complete whack job? How was he to even find her when all he had was the occasional glimpse of her face in his sleep? What if she didn’t even have that face anymore?! So many questions ricocheted about in his skull as he wove and ducked through the crowd. He had to try. If there was even a slim chance that the queen who ruled his dreams day and night could be living in this reality, he’d be an idiot to not seize it. Passing through a gush of steam from a nearby coffee machine, a flash of silver gold amongst the cattle like herd of humans ahead of him had his heart lurching to a momentary stop. A woman with a head full of strands that shifted between a warm gold and silver that gleamed like the stars under the light of day. Could it really be her? He had to know for certain. Hugging his groceries closer to his chest with renewed determination and a glimmer of hope flickering like a minute flame within his chest, Jon pushed his way through the hungry shoppers waiting in line by the falafel truck and onto the path of that mysterious woman. Eyes never leaving her, he observed as she lingered by the fruit stand. He couldn’t hear what she was saying yet but he could see her gesturing at the pile of shiny red apples up for purchase. He had to get closer. As the distance shrunk between them, he could see her profile and boy was she a vision to behold. The woman looked so much like the queen in his dreams. Her hair, her skin, her eyebrows, her nose, her plump lips and especially her smile that seemed to light up her whole face. There was no way someone could be the exact carbon copy of another person from a dream his brain cooked up. Seeing this woman smile and laugh as she chatted away with the rotund shopkeeper roused a foreign but so very splendid sort of emotion from the very depths of his being. Something clicked, like a switch being flicked on to illuminate a hidden room within his heart, an empty space made just for that woman right in front of him to belong. A joyous breath of laughter found its way out of his mouth. He had found her. Now, how was he to convince her that they could very possibly have a connection that tied them together. Sucking in a breath to calm his nerves, he decided to take the leap and hope for the best that she wouldn’t run for the hills when he approached her. “Excuse me miss, could I speak with you for a moment?”

Hearing a Northern accented voice from behind her, Dany turned around to see a man. His deep brown eyes were peering intently at her. The man had a messy head of curls that matched his dark eyes. A lock of his curls fell gently to rest over his left eye. To top off his already handsome features, a scruffy well-trimmed beard framed the bottom half of his face. She had to admit, he was really, really good looking, in a masculine, rugged heartthrob sort of way. Her heart skipped a beat followed by a pang of familiarity and fondness washing over her as she took in his visage. An image of a man reaching out his hand to caress a dragon’s snout floated through her mind. Had she seen him somewhere before? “This is going to sound very forward and stalker like. But, um... Do you know me?” His eyes scanned her face for any hint of recognition from her, only to be met with a blank stare. The man squirmed on the spot, further explaining: “You see, I’m an artist and I’ve painted many, many pieces of art. A number of them feature a woman who looks like you. I’ve been trailing you for a while now. You really look just like her!” Her large violet eyes scrunched up into a squint, trying to place that sense of familiarity, to recall if they’ve met in the past. Nothing came up. “You must have me mistaken with someone else. I have never seen you in my life before today.” “Oh, we haven’t met in real life. I meant, I’ve seen you in my dreams.” The man stated. “Have you by any chance seen me in yours?” That crazy fortune teller better be right about this. Jon prayed. “What?” Dreams? “Is that supposed to be a pick-up line? If it is, it’s horribly cheesy.” Dreams. “No! No, no. I’m not hitting on you. Not that I wouldn’t, you’re gorgeous.” Realizing his slip up, the man’s mouth snapped shut as his ears turned red. This woman was even more mesmerizing up close. Tracking her for a good while to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him, he could tell she was just as beautiful as the woman he saw in his dreams. Other than her brunette locks, they were the splitting image of each other. And the way his heart sped up when he laid eyes on this petite lady, weaving her way between the market stalls, browsing the wares was exactly how his dream self felt, stepping into her throne room. He had found her. The woman of his dreams. “Why thank you.” Dany smirked. This stranger was surprisingly cute. She won’t believe you until you show her. “Anyway, I know it’s hard to believe but....” he sighed feeling frustrated. How do you convince a stranger that you saw them in your dreams without sounding like a lunatic? “Look, I’ll prove it to you. Come with me, please?” Dany didn’t know why she agreed to go with an unfamiliar man with a simple ‘Okay’ slipping out of her mouth. An intuitive impulse to follow a perfect stranger was completely insane but the sincerity in his eyes and that innate sense of familiarity compelled her to do so. That inexplainable tugging on her heart was an added push. “Thank you for this. I’m Jon, by the way. Jon Stark. I’m very sorry for the abruptness, for ruining your plans if you had any. Not to mention, I’m a total stranger. I must come off as very random, if not creepy. You must understand, I really need to show you this.” The painter rambled on. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dany Thorne and you didn’t ruin anything. I didn’t have much planned for this holiday anyway. Also, something tells me, you’re not a creep. You wouldn’t do something like this if it weren’t of great importance, would you?” She reassured him with a kind smile, matching his stride along the cobble stone streets, as he guided her through the streets back to his loft, groceries in tow. This man, this stranger, for some reason made her feel so safe with him, like a space that she hadn’t noticed before in her chest had been filled.

Turning up laneway, Dany followed the painter up a gently inclining slope before coming to a stop in front of an open doorway. “My apartment is just upstairs.” Climbing up a flight of rickety stairs, each step creaked under their weight. “I do apologize again for the abruptness of my behaviour.” “It’s all right, Jon. Really. Don’t apologize. Oh! Do you mind if I called you Jon?” Glancing down at her from under that lock of raven hair over his left eye, Jon murmured: “No. I’d like that actually.” Dany caught a slight hint of a smile on his lips which had her smiling back. She could have sworn she’d seen that smile before. But where? “I have to say I am curious myself. I’ve never met you before today and the same goes for you. So, how would you possibly have painted portraits of me?” “I don’t know... Your face just comes to me out of the blue.” Jon reflected aloud. That really was how it happened after all. Down the hallway to the right they went, passing one, two, three apartments before halting outside a white wooden door. “I hope you don’t mind the mess. I wasn’t expecting guests today.” “I’m an unexpected guest then huh? Can’t remember the last time I’ve been one. People usually want me around.” Dany couldn’t resist a tease at him as she watched the raven haired man fish out the right key from a bunch of three and insert it into the key hole. “Yes. You are a very unexpected one.” Jon nodded as he turned the key. The door unlocked with a click. “I am however, finding you to be very pleasant company and I most definitely want you around.” He added with quiet chuckle. Dany bit her lip with a light roll of her eyes, cheeks stained a slight pink. She was not expecting him to be flirty. Before he could turn the handle, the door to an apartment opposite his creaked open and out popped the golden unkempt head of a man. The man was shorter than herself, Dany observed in surprise. His height appeared to reach the middle of her torso. A pair of dark shades were perched on the bridge of his nose and in his hand, he clutched a clear glass beaker that held a rich purplish maroon liquid. “Ah! Jon! I thought I heard your dreamy voice! I’m hosting a party in about half an hour in celebration of my wine. After months of experimenting, I’ve finally managed to brew some that taste less like rancid grape juice and more like the delicious ambrosia of the gods. Everyone in the building is coming and you....” Waving the bottle before him like a conductor with his baton, the man exclaimed with a distinct slur to his voice. “Oh!” Pushing his glasses down his nose, the man paused mid speech to look at her almost like he suddenly noticed her presence. His blue eyes were unfocused and blurry as he swayed like a leaf in the wind before leaning heavily against his door frame. “And who is this gorgeous creature?” “Good afternoon, Tyrion! Umm this is Dany. She’s a... friend. Dany, meet my neighbour, Tyrion.” “Hello there!” Dany gave Tyrion a quick wave and a laugh. The man was three sheets to the wind! “You’ve finally got yourself a girl! Let me drink to that! Well done, boy!” Tyrion mimicked the motion of giving a toast before taking a swig of the purple liquid from his beaker. “Unfortunately, we’re a bit busy at the moment. So...” Jon said to him, hand still around his door knob as if poised and ready to flee into the confines of his home. “Congratulations on the success of your wine though. I know how hard you’ve worked on it.” Dany’s brows rose up high as she looked between Jon and the shorter man in amusement. Did Tyrion really make homemade wine? Was that legal? “Ahh.... I see what you mean.” Just then, a chorus of girly giggles and sensual moans erupted from somewhere behind the shorter man. “Well... I best leave you youngsters to it then. I’ll send you a sample of my wine soon, Jon.” Tyrion left them with a waggle if his brows and a wink, before sidling back into his apartment. The meaning behind said waggle and wink were no mystery to the two individuals standing in the hallway. “Good lord. I’m so sorry about that.” Jon muttered, thoroughly embarrassed. “Tyrion can be a bit much.” “That was... something else. Are all your neighbours like him? Are they all so… colourful?”

“Well....” Jon thought back to his interactions with the fellow residents of his building. From the cat lady upstairs who had ten cats, to the dancer who loved to bust a move in the nude two doors down, his building housed some of the most eccentric of individuals he’d ever met. “I’m not going to lie. Yes.” That drew another giggle from Dany. This trip was definitely turning out to be far more interesting than she anticipated. Turning the handle, Jon pushed the door in. Light spilled out from inside of his home and onto the dimly lit hallway, casting a trapezoid shaped glow of white on the floor. “Welcome to my home. Finally.” Jon said, holding the door open and gesturing for Dany to enter with a smile. Crossing the threshold as she allowed Jon to shut the door behind her, Dany took in the place that was his abode. There was a small living room on the right, complete with a comfy looking grey couch, a tall standing lamp and a glass coffee table a top a cream coloured rug. To the left was a small kitchen area with an island where Jon was pattering about, opening and closing cabinets and stocking the fridge with his groceries. Just by the living room was a pair of doors that swung open to a little balcony. It appeared to be a very cosy space, simple, but very quaint. A brightly lit home awash with sunlight, streaming in from the windows. A haven where creativity could roam free.

“You have a lovely place and it’s not the least bit messy.” There wasn’t dirty laundry or rubbish strewn about anywhere to be seen. In fact, everything looked impeccably neat, without a speck of dust. “Well, you haven’t seen my work area.” Jon said closing the door to his fridge. He’d have to bring her there to show her his art in a bit. Cocking her head to a side, Dany thought for a moment before saying: “Doesn’t creativity usually come with a degree of messiness? You should see my writing desk. In fact, you should see my office when I get busy writing. I don’t come out for days on end and if somebody comes in, they don’t even realize I’m in there. You know why?” “Why?” “Because I’m usually hidden behind piles of paper, books and empty mugs stained with tea, so high that as you can imagine, someone as small as me would easily be drowned by them all.” Dany told him. “God knows how that hasn’t happened already!” Jon laughed at Dany’s sudden revelation. Chuckling along with him, Dany clasped her hands together in front of her belly, rocking a little on her feet as peals of feminine laughter swam through the air, coalescing with his deeper ones. He could just envision them laughing together about the silliest things over breakfast in the morning or any time during the day really. How strange to think like that of someone he just barely became acquainted with? “You’re a writer then?” “Mhmm. Well, I’m currently an editor for my father’s books. When he wants to publish one of course. One day, I’d like to have a book of my own. In the meantime, I write stories and post them online for fun.” The tone of pride in her voice was palpable. Jon instantly knew that she was someone who loved what she did for a living. She was adorable and a fellow creator! He liked her very much already. “So.... where are your art pieces, Jon? My curiosity is just dying to be appeased!” Dany admitted after their laughter quietened down, looking around the space once more. Her startlingly violet irises were glowing with eager anticipation and her grin sent his beating heart skipping like a gleeful child. Gosh, she was so very lovely.

“Oh! That! Right this way, Dany. I’ll show you.” Jon lead them further into the apartment, towards a room in the back. Shockingly, he almost completely forgot about the whole reason he had brought her to his home. Being with her seemed so easy, so enjoyable. It felt as if his worries had all been thrown out of his mind to the furthest reaches of the earth! What a funny occurrence this was. But they did have things to do. Reeling himself back on track, it was time to get on with the main event.

“Woah.” The likeness was uncanny. The woman really looked like a splitting image of her, down to the freckles dusting her cheek bones. They even had the exact same eye colour - a rare lilac purple. Growing up, people used to call her names and make fun of her for them. She hated them and would always go home crying when the school day was done. One fine afternoon, her mother calmed her down and lifted her onto her lap. Tenderly brushing away the last of her tears, her darling mummy told her astutely that there was no point in hating her eyes because one shouldn’t change what they were born with. Instead, she should love them. She was beautiful the way she was. So, from then on, little Dany faced her bullies head on, scaring them away with the promise to bite their heads off like the monster that they called her. As she grew older, she found people envied her purple irises, saying that they were so unique, going as far to ask her what contact lenses she had on. Turns out, being different wasn’t too bad. The people who love you will stay with you regardless of what your appearance was. The painted woman had her silver hair braided and coiled around her head with the rest falling freely down to her waist. The image captured strands of silver being picked up by the wind as she stood at the edge of a cliff, dressed in black, looking into the distance watching her children frolic in the sky. An odd sense of Déjà vucrept up upon Dany. The dragons are my children. Children? There were three of them, the biggest one was red and black, the middle one was green and red and the smallest one was a beautiful cream and gold. Drogon, Rheagal and Viserion. The names resounded in her ears. Except.... How? How did he know what she dreamt? All that she’d been seeing since she was a little girl. Her heart pounded. Taking a stumbling step back from his work, Dany sucked in a ragged breath as a scene flashed through her head. Dragon eggs heated by the fire amidst a funeral pyre cracking, hatching, her babies huddling close to her naked body, unburnt by the licking flames as the wood around her charred and turned to ash. “How? What?” Shaking her head in disbelief, she breathed asking the handsome stranger as much as asking herself. “Like I said, I saw her in my dreams. So, I painted her.” Jon walked over to join her by the painting. “Ever since my childhood, I’ve been having these dreams at night about someone who was me, but not me. When I woke, I would paint the things I saw.” Tracing a finger over the canvas, over the rough, bumpy ridges of the brush strokes under her finger tips that created the orange, purple horizon the dragons were flying towards, Dany listened and her pulse started to race. “The things I see, they are just so realistic. It feels like an out of body experience of a life that isn’t my own. Definitely, not this life.” Swallowing deeply, she knew what he meant.

Trekking through the haboob blowing across a desert, following a blood red comet. Her sweat dripping down her face, so famished she could faint from hunger and dehydration.

She had never in her life been to a desert before. There weren’t any deserts in London. “These days, the dreams have changed from being focused on a man who looked like me to a woman.” Looking straight at her, he continued. “A woman, who looked just like you.”

Tilting her head to observe the man beside her, her eyes drifted over his features. Her mind finally placing where she had seen him before. He was the man of her dreams. The man who made up the half of the union of fire and ice with the queen who wore her face.

“Wow, okay. This is really anomalous.” Taking a deep breath, she blinked rapidly, trying to gather her thoughts. Logic and reason were battling to accept the impossible. “These dreams.... do they happen to be set in the medieval ages?” “How did you know?” Holding up her hand indicating that he let her continue. “In these dreams, did you see yourself as a King?” The queen of the Seven Kingdoms and her king stood on their balcony of the Red Keep, their new home, looking down at the city. The king had his arms around his queen, holding her close, looking forward to creating a new future for Westeros. “Umm yes.” He saw himself addressing his people as he sat upon his throne, looking to his right, he smiled at his silver haired queen, a feeling of warmth and love blooming in his chest. Jon felt that sensation once again just thinking about his dream. Looking at the woman in front of him who looked just like the queen in his dreams, oddly that sensation only swelled. Glancing up at him, Dany asked: “In your dreams, your queen who looked like me and your doppelgänger.... were the two of them involved?” His eyebrows drew into a deeper furrow with each passing question. “Yes. They were in love.” Jon nodded in affirmation. “Well, at least I think so. I could feel it in here.” He pointed at his chest. “The way the man and the woman looked at one another. They were very much besotted with each other. And the amount of snogging they did...” He coughed. “This is going to sound absolutely bonkers, but I think you deserve to know this.” Dany laughed a laugh of disbelief. “I think.... I may not be a hundred percent certain, but I think… I may be having those dreams too. The very same ones as you but from the queen’s point of view. In my dreams I saw myself married to a man from a snowy place in the North who looked just like you.” “Seriously?” Jon’s mouth fell open as he processed her words, trying to wrap his mind around her disclosure. His eyes were so wide they were almost bulging out of his head. He looked so comical Dany could have snorted. “We ruled as monarchs together over a place called Westeros, I believe.” she replied, moving to the next art piece, leaving a stunned Jon with his mouth agape. This one was equally beautiful. It was a painting of a wolf. The wolf was so white he blended in with the snowy background behind him. His intelligent eyes seemed to glow like garnets the deepest shade of red. Or, like the very blood pumping through my veins, Dany noted with morbid fascination. “He’s magnificent, Jon. You are very talented.” “Thank you. His name is Ghost. He’s the trusty dire wolf companion of mine or well, the guy with my face in my dreams.” Jon laughed wearily, rubbing a palm over his face. “I’m never going to get used to all this. We’re clearly not the people we see in our dreams, but are we really not? This is so confusing.” “Don’t I know it.” Another painting propped up against a cupboard with Jon’s art supplies of dragons in flight, breathing fire caught her eye. “For example,” Walking over to it, Dany pointed to them and said: “These are my children. Drogon, Rheagal and Viserion. And I...” She waved her arms in a flourish. “am the Mother of Dragons. How do I know that? Dragons don’t even exist.”

The two of them shared a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation they were embroiled in. “How are the dreams like for you? Are they frequent or occasional?” Jon queried. Moving over to Jon join who was stood by his work table, Dany tucked a strand of her hair that behind her ear and began recounting her life. “Since I could remember, almost every night, I would dream and see a girl who could very well be my twin. She seemed to grow along with me from a child, into a teen, into an adult. All the while, I had to witness her life.” She frowned as she recalled the nightly movies playing in her sleep. “Her life was.... hard. From being homeless to being sold by her brother, then raped by her so called husband, defiled, humiliated. It was absolutely terrifying. I still remember the dread that stayed with me long after I woke in the morning, almost like that all happened to me.”

Jon wanted desperately to reach out and hug her as he watched Dany’s arms curling around herself subconsciously.

“That’s horrible.” Jon empathized. He wanted desperately to reach out and hug her as he watched Dany’s arms curling around herself subconsciously. The woman beside him must have been experiencing the dread and the fear the girl from her dream experienced. Just like how the death and the pain of being stabbed still lingered in his flesh. “It was. Fortunately, she was strong, she survived it all and rose to queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I don’t think I could have survived what happened to her.” Dany sighed, a small little smile curling at her lips for the pride she felt for her dream twin. “Recently though, the dreams have been frequent but considerably less... dreary. These nights I would see snippets of the life of her and her King, your twin.” A genuine smile graced Dany’s pink lips along with a tinkling laugh.

“What did you see?” Jon was eager to know.

Did she see their alter egos in love as well? They looked so happy together. Happiness was rare and hard to find. In the medieval times, even more so. From the bits of his dreams and from what Dany just told him, he could tell that neither of their dream avatars lives’ were too great, up until the King in the North met his Dragon Queen. He wondered if she also saw their more risqué activities like he did on some nights, when the heat of summer grew too unbearable leaving him aroused and frustrated under the covers. His mind conjured up images of the adventurous young rulers in bed. Boy, were they wanton. Jon cleared his throat and wedged his index finger between the collar of his shirt and his chest, pulling at his clothes. Was the room getting warmer? “Well, I saw them…” Glancing at Jon, Dany saw that his ears were turning red again. Interesting. “What are you thinking about, Mister Stark? Something naughty?” Dany narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “No.” Jon replied, his voice rose to a suspiciously higher pitch. “Just answer the question please.”

Messing with him was fun, she thought as she stifled a snigger. “As I was saying, I saw a lot of them lately, such as their first meeting, I saw them talking by a cliff and riding into battle together on the backs of their dragons. I saw the love in their eyes they had for each other. I also.... Oh.” So that’s what he was remembering. Dany voice grew smaller as a blush rose up her neck to grace her cheeks. “Well.... I....” “Judging from your blush, you know very well what I was imaging earlier.” Jon exclaimed with a bark of laughter. “Shut up.” The young aspiring writer grumbled. “It’s not my fault that those two were so damn passionate and in love!” He couldn’t agree more. “This is all very voyeuristic isn’t it?” “Very.” Dany mused. “How do you feel knowing that we’re both going through this?” Jon couldn’t tell from her expression if she was glad or upset. He certainly was pleasantly surprised. He wasn’t alone in this confusing situation. Was she happy? “Honestly?” Dany smiled. “I’m not too miffed about it. I think it’s pretty cool. Just imagine, we’re probably the only two people in the world going through something like this.” “It’s very likely.” The both of them stood in companionable silence for long moments before he spoke up again. “So... listen, I have an unusual request to make. I know I’ve already taken up a lot of your time and you can definitely say no. But, could I.... paint you? One day in the future… I’d like to do that.” “Me? What for?” “Sentimental reasons I suppose. To commemorate finally meeting the woman of my dreams. Well, sort of. It’s also a guise for me to keep you around a little while longer.” Bumping his shoulder with hers playfully, Jon told her. Hearing to her breathe a chuckle and return the gesture, taking a leap of faith, he further professed, “I do want to get to know you as well. I want to give this weird, special connection between us a chance.” And keep you with me, if I’m lucky, forever, because I think I’m falling for you. A fairly absurd occurrence for a new acquaintance, but was this what people called love at first sight? Dany considered his request for a moment. This was not what she had foreseen at all of this holiday. However, just by spending such a short time with him, she could already tell that something was simmering between them. This dream connection they had could very well blossom into something very real and magical. There had to be a reason why they had the same dreams. Maybe spending more time together, they could figure out why this was happening. “Yeah okay. Why not?” She replied with a shrug. “This could be fun. I’ve never sat for a portrait before.” Jon beamed in delight at her. “Thank you so much, Dany!”

“How about tomorrow? Paint me like one of those French girls if you will, Mister Stark.”

“Wha… What?!”

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