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urrone · 8 months

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wip amnesty - jordan eberle/taylor hall

Full disclosure, I think I've posted this before, but I'm officially posting it again just to get it off my chest and out of my active fics folder. It's never getting finished. At the end I will include my notes for how I would have ended it if I had the willpower to do so. I created this document in the year of our eldritch horror TWO THOUSAND THIRTEEN so that's how long it's been muddling through existence.

the new normal

It’s not that Taylor hasn’t heard of Oklahoma before, of course he has, though he doubts he could have ever picked it out on a map of the US. He’s just never, like, had to physically acknowledge its existence with his own presence, and it’s weird.

“Is it as flat as you thought?” Jeff, the intern the team sent to pick him up at the airport, carefully keeps his hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel. Bringing his truck down from home hadn’t made sense given he’s sure he won’t be here long, but Taylor misses driving already.

“I didn’t really think about it,” he says, and that’s definitely true. Foreign places always resemble a slightly different Canada in his mind until he sees them. And it’s not like anywhere in the US is really that different, not like going overseas.

And honestly, it does kind of remind him of Edmonton, only with fewer trees.

Jeff laughs when he says it out loud, and starts pointing out landmarks on the way to the apartment Taylor will share with Jordan. He’s never lost this much playing time before, and he isn’t sure if it’s that or seeing Jordan for the first time since April that has him wiping sweat off his palms every five minutes.

Taylor lets Jeff’s inane chatter ease him all the way to his new front door, on the second floor of a low rise apartment building that Jeff assures him is only a five-to-ten-minute bike ride from the arena. “It doesn’t look like a lot, but there’s some good stuff in Midtown,” Jeff says, gesturing vaguely to the road behind them.

Taylor doesn’t know how to respond to this but it doesn’t really matter because Jeff’s already gone.

“Are you telling me you actually brought your dirty laundry from Canada to wash down here?” Jordan says, looking at the pile of clothes in front of the washer. “You moved down here just so I'd do your laundry again, didn't you?”

Taylor laughs and chucks the socks he'd been wearing on top of the pile. It’s almost a relief to just fall back into chirping each other like they always used to. It helps him talk through the fluttery bits in his stomach. “Yep, it had absolutely nothing to do with finally being able to play again. I got tired of washing my own socks.”

Jordan picks one of the socks up and flicks it back at Taylor's face. “It doesn’t look like you’ve washed a sock since last season.”

Taylor bats it away, laughing around the new tight feeling that’s taken up residence in his chest. He'd really missed just being in the same room with Jordan, sitting on their mutually owned couch playing xbox, buying groceries they’d forget to eat, watching Jordan sort their dirty laundry.

“Why aren't you holding up your end then?” Jordan asks. He's given up bitching and started dumping the pile of clothes into the washer. “When's the last time you went grocery shopping?”

“Chill out, I just got here.”

“We can't eat at Earl's every day, dude.”

It's weird that he can eat at a place called Earl's in two different countries. Did they run out of restaurant names? The one down here doesn't have the variety of Edmonton’s, but their brisket is delicious, and Taylor doesn't see why they can't eat it every day if they want to. He says as much.

“The nutritionist might object.”

Fair point to Jordan. “Do you think Tubes would let me borrow his car?”

Jordan snorts. “No.”

Taylor flops down on the couch. “Well do you think he'd give me a ride to the grocery store?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether or not he's already going to the store.” Jordan flops down next to him, and it's not their awesome giant wrap around couch that Jordan’s mom bought them when they moved in, so next to him is kind of on top of him given the way that Taylor's sprawled, but Taylor doesn't mind. He likes Jordan's warm weight against him, even though it's kind of hot in their apartment, despite the air conditioning. It's weird that it's 30C in late October anywhere in the world.

“If we had Vespas we could go to the store.”

“How is grocery shopping with a Vespa different than grocery shopping with your bike?”

Taylor tries to shrug but his shoulders are stuck to the leather. “I'd get there faster?”

“Do you even know what a Vespa is?” Jordan nudges Taylor with his foot. “You still wouldn't have anywhere to put the groceries.”

Taylor doesn’t want to admit that no, he still doesn’t know. “I wouldn't get much. It's not like you're going to cook it.”

“Can't fit a lot of coconut water on a Vespa.”

“I could fit enough.” He nudges Jordan back with his knee, since his feet are currently trapped under Jordan's calves.

“Hey, Cheds.” Sometimes Taylor regrets ever telling Jordan about that nickname, but sometimes he likes that Jordan is the only one to use it anymore.

“What?”

Jordan won't make eye contact with him for a minute, which is weird because it's Jordan and Jordan has never been uncomfortable around Taylor, not even when they first met. “I just. I really missed you.”

It's weird to say his heart flips in his chest, because hearts don't actually do that, really, but Taylor might finally know what people mean when they say that, like this sick warm weird feeling right there behind his sternum. It's awesome and terrifying and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

He waits until it passes and pats Jordan's shoulder, because Jordan's still looking weird. Which, granted, they hardly ever talk about their feelings for things other than food or hockey, but still. “I missed you too, you non.”

Jordan doesn't even smile at that, and Taylor suddenly feels like they're having two different conversations. “No,” Jordan says. “I mean. I missed. Jesus, Taylor, it was like six months.”

“No it wasn't, I was back in Edmonton that whole time. I mean, except for the surgery.”

“Not on the ice.”

“Well no, but—”

“Not over the summer.”

“We never spend the summer together.”

Jordan's looking at him now, but it's with the distinct impression that says Taylor's missing something big, and fuck if Taylor knows what it is. He kind of does though, because even when he'd been out with his ankle his rookie year, they'd still been around, and it hadn't been some planned thing like his shoulder where they knew it'd go through next season.

The shoulder thing had kind of scared him, and he guesses it must have scared Jordan a bit too. He puts his hand on Jordan's shoulder again, but leaves it there and holds on. “I get it,” he says, even though Jordan's still looking at him like he really doesn't. “I really did miss you too. And playing with you. And winning with you.”

Jordan looks kind of okay with that, and he reaches up to pat Taylor's hand.

“You want to hug it out?” Taylor asks.

Jordan laughs at that and smacks his hand away and things feel normal again, but a different kind of normal. “Fuck you, turn on the TV.”

If this is going to be their new normal, Taylor could be okay with that.

–

Practice is weird and it isn’t just because he hasn’t actually had a team practice since last season. Jordan and Ryan have been down for a month already, since before the home opener, and Taylor hates feeling a step behind. He knows some of the guys from training camp last year, but Schultz is new and Ryan follows him around like a duckling.

He’s also missed out on several months worth of inside jokes, which he hates almost more than feeling winded after sprints. During practice Justin hip checks Jordan and they both say “sauce” and crack up laughing. Taylor doesn’t feel bad at all when they both land on their asses and get yelled at.

Tubes laughs at Taylor when he mentions the grocery store, but Hamilton takes pity on him. (Taylor hadn't really planned this well and asked in the locker room. If anyone chirps him about it, he's totally throwing Jordan under the bus about the laundry. Cereal is way better than socks.)

“We can go after practice,” Hammy says. “I've gotta go anyway.”

They end up driving way further north than Taylor's been before, he hasn't really made it past 23rd St on his bike, and stopped there because there wasn’t a bike lane. He figures if it isn't in the confines of downtown, he doesn't really need it.

“But you do,” Hammy says. “Because they don't have a Whole Foods down there.” He then spends about fifteen minutes bitching about the grocery store situation in Oklahoma, because apparently the liquor laws in the States are different than Canada, and for some reason that means no good grocery stores exist in this state. “It's a big fucking mess,” Hammy finishes, just as he parks. He catches Taylor giving him whatever look must have been on his face, because really, grocery stores. “What?” Hammy asks.

“I had no idea someone could have so many feelings about grocery stores.”

Hammy just pushes him into a parked car, and they both run when the alarm starts blaring.

–

“Did you know it's not even called KD down here?” Taylor asks, neatly arranging the offensively labeled blue boxes in the cupboard.

“I did, actually,” Jordan says, not even looking up from the TV.

“You could have warned me.”

“I'm sorry, was it a shock to your delicate nature?”

Taylor lobs one of the wet sponges on the sink at Jordan's head, and fuck yeah he's got excellent hand-eye coordination, it hits Jordan right in the ear. Jordan yelps and comes at him, and Taylor barely gets out “I'm sorry, was it a shock to your delicate ear?” before Jordan has him pinned on the kitchen floor, laughing into the tile.

Taylor gets his hands under him and shoves up. He's got height and weight on Jordan, which has always made wrestling pathetically unmatched, especially when Jordan forgets to do shit like pin his hands. He gets Jordan wedged into the corner between the cabinets and the floor, and even with Jordan squirming and kicking his truly massive thighs around, he can't dislodge Taylor. Taylor is the fucking master of pinning people.

“Say it,” he says. It's unfortunately a little muffled because he's got Jordan's shoulder pinned with his head, and his mouth is full of Jordan' shirt. Still, it's a familiar enough routine by now, and Jordan's face is free and clear.

“No.”

Taylor presses down harder, his feet hooked over Jordan's legs and their arms tangled. It'd be horrible form if either of them had ever actually officially wrestled in any kind of formal manner, but there aren't any rules here. They're touching knee to head and it’s apparently part of the new normal that Taylor notices this time. Notices exactly how they line up, how Jordan's thigh flexes between his, how Jordan's breath pants across Taylor's forehead as he struggles. He doesn't know why he's never thought about this before, how good everything feels. He's missed it. They've had to be too careful about Taylor's shoulder for so long.

“Say it,” he says again, and hopes his voice doesn't sound as wrecked as he feels.

“You're better than me!”

“At what.”

Jordan sags against the floor and Taylor finds himself resisting absolutely nothing, and then they're just two guys, cuddling on the kitchen floor. “At literally everything,” Jordan says.

Taylor lifts his head. “That escalated quickly.”

“Fuck you, don't quote Anchorman at me.”

“Don't say ridiculous shit.”

Jordan shrugs and Taylor feels it with his whole torso and remembers that, oh yeah, he's still basically laying on top of Jordan, and it isn't for wrestling reasons anymore. He gets up and offers a hand to Jordan. “NHL 13?”

He laughs when Jordan slaps his hand away. “I'm gonna kick your ass,” Jordan says, levering himself up against the cabinets.

“Yeah, we'll see.”

–

Taylor's first week playing with the team for real and not just practicing involves a road trip down to Texas. On a bus. Taylor remembers taking buses to games, it honestly hasn't been that long, but the drive from OKC down to Houston is going to be like eight hours. And because he’s who he is he decides to complain about it out loud in the middle of Earl’s. “Welcome to the AHL,” he mutters.

“It's not that bad,” Jordan says.

“You're like a foot shorter than me, of course you don't think it's that bad.”

Jordan flicks a fry at him. Taylor tries unsuccessfully to catch it in his mouth. “I'm like inches shorter than you,” Jordan says. “Very few inches.”

“At least two,” Ryan says helpfully.

Justin nods. “But not more than six.”

“Fuck you both, it's not six inches.”

Taylor flicks a pickle at Jordan. Fries are too precious to waste, and he's really not a fan of pickles. “I can see over your head without even trying. It's enough.”

“You cannot.”

“I can.”

“Prove it.”

“Right now?”

Jordan gets up from their booth and stands next to it, hands on his hips. “Yes, right now.”

“You look stupid.” Taylor looks at Ryan and Justin, but they're both concentrating really hard on eating right now and are exactly no help. “Seriously?”

Justin looks up from his barbecue. “It makes Nugget really uncomfortable when his parents yell at each other,” he says, with a truly impressive deadpan expression. Taylor is forced to begrudgingly admit, only to himself, that Justin could teach lessons.

Taylor sighs heavily and ridiculously and throws his napkin down. “Fine.” He knows he's exaggerated his and Jordan’s height differences. Jordan knows he's exaggerated their height differences. Literally everyone knows he's exaggerated their height differences, and he stands up and his eyes are right on Jordan's forehead and of course he can't see shit over his head and he hates that he had to stand up and leave his barbecue behind. “Whatever, you non. Fine.” He sits back down again. “Two inches. Why were we talking about this again?”

Jordan is insufferably triumphant with his shit-eating grin. “The bus,” Jordan reminds him. “It's not that bad, so quit your fucking whining.”

“Language, Ebby,” Taylor says. “This is a family establishment.”

Jordan kicks him under the table, and it's really fucking hard actually, but then he leaves his leg pressed up against Taylor's until they leave.

–

Taylor shifts around for the millionth time in as many minutes. The bus is too hot and too cold and too cramped and too . . . everything. He's got his iPad out and has Dexter queued up but can't find a good position for the iPad and his legs and his shoulders. Jordan shotgunned the window seat on the way to the bus and at first Taylor thought that the aisle would be awesome, more room for his legs, but then Arco spread out a blanket, grabbed his pillow, and camped out in the aisle. It's a mad genius idea and Taylor wishes he'd thought of it first, but now he's got nowhere for his legs except under the seat in front of him.

“Stop squirming,” Jordan says, shoving at his shoulder. “I can't sleep when you squirm.”

“I can't get comfortable,” Taylor says, shoving back. “This is the worst.”

House kicks his seat. “Tell us again how wonderful the Oilers plane is, seriously.”

Taylor hunches down in his seat. This is the worst, the absolute worst, but he might be down here for the whole season, given the way the negotiations are going, and he doesn't really want to be that guy.

“Here, just.” Jordan starts manhandling him a bit. “Sit up a minute, will you?” Taylor does and Jordan pulls his leg up behind Taylor and Taylor does not at all see how this is going to be comfortable? But then Jordan grabs his shoulders and turns Taylor away from him and pulls his back into Jordan's chest, so Taylor is basically reclining in a Jordan chair. Taylor tries really hard and really unsuccessfully to not think about every point of contact between them.

He swings his legs up onto the armrest across the aisle, basically right over Arco's head, but he's asleep and Danis is all alone across the aisle and sleeping with his face mashed against the window and obviously not using the arm rest right now.

“Better?” Jordan whispers, and it's right in his ear and that's definitely what makes the goosebumps spread across the back of his neck. He wonders what Jordan will attribute his full body shudder to, but Jordan doesn't actually ask. Also is it better? No. And yes.

“Yeah,” he says, just as quiet. It really has no business being comfortable, because they're still two tall, muscular dudes shoved into a seat made for people roughly half their size, but somehow it is, and it’s weird that it is.

Jordan slings his arm over Taylor's shoulder, because it's that or leave it mashed between Taylor and the seat. He can feel when Jordan falls asleep again, because his breath gets deep and even against Taylor's shoulder.

Taylor puts his earbuds in, props the iPad against his knees, and hits play. He’ll deal with how good all of this feels later.

–

It’s Justin’s idea to go see Cloud Atlas. Taylor doesn’t really like going to movie theaters, he gets bored just sitting there trying to follow along with a plot he doesn’t really care about. He relents when Jordan tells him to stop being a non and promises to buy him a popcorn and lemonade, so he gets on his bike and follows them all down the street to the theater.

Somehow, when they all go to sit down, Taylor ends up on the end of the row next to Justin, and Jordan’s on the other end next to Ryan, and all Taylor has is his watery lemonade. Ryan and Justin do this thing during the previews where they do a thumbs up or down on whether or not they’ll go see the movie. Jordan starts giving his opinion after he sees Ryan and Justin doing it.

Taylor keeps his thumb down the whole time and eventually Justin stops turning to ask.

He only makes it thirty-seven minutes into the movie. By the sixth time a new storyline is introduced and he’s leaned over again to Justin to ask if that’s still Tom Hanks under all the makeup and Justin has shushed him yet again, he just gets up and leaves. He waits in the lobby to see if anyone follows him but eventually Taylor has to concede that they might not have even noticed he’d left. Or maybe they just thought he was taking an extended bathroom break.

The lobby of the movie theater is boring and doesn’t have any couches and he’s actually pretty close to home because everything is pretty close to their apartment, so he just leaves.

He bikes around downtown. There’s a little canal area near the theater and a big statue of a covered wagon. He likes the canal. It’s absolutely nothing like the river in Edmonton but whatever, it’s trying. He stops outside Toby Keith’s restaurant to tweet about the movie and laughs at Whits’ response.

Most of the time he’s not sure if it’s Oklahoma City that he likes or his anonymity. No one recognizes him here. No one stops him on the sidewalk to ask about their Cup chances. No one laments to him about their godawful power play, or how long it’s been since their last playoff run. No one gives him their insider tips or advice on going top shelf or five hole. He hasn’t been this anonymous in a really long time.

If he’d stopped to think about it, and he never had, obviously, he’d have assumed he’d find it lonely, isolating. The first time he’d left the country, to go someplace that wasn’t the United States, he’d gone all the way to Russia for hockey. They had people to help them around, translators assigned to help them order dinner and find their way to the bathrooms. And, other than thinking they were obnoxious tourists, the Russians hadn’t really cared much about who he was. He keeps thinking about that time, about being in the middle of a crowd of people and completely unable to communicate with any of them unless they spoke English.

They speak English in Oklahoma but it’s the same feeling, like there’s something lost in translation between him and the people strolling along the canal.

He’d never been alone in Russia though, Jordan had been with him. He wonders why he feels more alone now, and he kind of hates it.

As he’s contemplating that feeling, he realizes he’s hit the highway. And because he’s hit the highway, he doesn’t actually know where he is. It should be easy just turn around and go back the way he came, plus all the streets in Oklahoma City are numbered, but he can’t figure it out. He lets Siri direct him back to the apartment.

That's where it ends, these are the notes:

Lockout ends and they go back and Taylor is still pissy and doesn’t know why

Jordan confronts him about it

Taylor finally says that OKC was balls but he missed feeling like they were about to start something, like they were removed from their normal lives in a place where anything could happen

Jordan calls him an idiot and kisses him

“It was like. Anything could happen there. We could have just been two normal guys. And it made me think, if we were just two normal guys, what would I do.”

“But you didn’t do anything.”

Taylor shrugs. “We still weren’t normal guys, even though it felt like it.”

“What’s normal? Nothing’s normal. There’s no such thing as normal.”

“You know what I mean.”

“So we make a new normal,” Jordan says, and kisses him.

Okay but now that I’ve been reminded of it I need to add something in there about bonking their heads together as they kiss.

#huge shout out to all of my hockey friends #who read this story #and offered suggestions #that i never implemented #bc i never finished it #my fic #this work is not in progress #hallberle #hockey fic

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shifuto · 6 months

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some closing thoughts after a little over 1 month of revisiting Yugioh Vrains

Vrains is a trainwreck in the most endearing and wonderful way

I love this show so dearly and feel like this time I finally managed to appreciate it in the way it's supposed to - problems and all. I feel like I was finally able to understand a lot of the peculiarities and subtexts that, before, I didn't have enough emotional maturity for, and it helped knowing generally what was going on because watching this show for the first time was.. not great (for reasons I talked about already in other posts from this marathon)

going through that grueling filler-plagued beginning was hell, and one of the reasons I was dreading going through this show again - it even got me questioning why I put Vrains so high on my ranking of favorite YGOs (because my memory is bad and I didn't see any reason for Vrains to be that high), but once it starts going.. oh boy it doesn't stop, this is why I finished it so fast LOL

Vrains's story is very compelling and the minimal cast helps to keep everything close-knitted (I highly prefer fewer characters like this). Not all of these are interesting, but the ones who are do make up for it. I have found love in characters I didn't pay much mind before; loved the ones I already did even more; and went batshit insane over my favorites; Spectre

I don't think we'll ever have a plot like this in the franchise and it's such a shame. Vrains portrays trauma, pain and loss without romanticizing it. The main character has PTSD and he's not magically cured after everything - none of them are, except Jin (and this is another whole can of worms I'm not sure if I want to get into....) - Vrains is not a happy show or a happy story, and this is what makes it so wonderful in my eyes. Tragedy is what kickstarts this story, and tragedy is the one thing that is consistently happening throughout it

before, I guess I didn't really like the ending very much because the story was cut short and everything was rushed and too vague? But now (and understanding why it was cut short), I can find some silver linings, for example: that open ending feels good. It's nice to have stories such as this (and also in Zexal) with a lot of openings, and holes and things to be filled with theories and ideas: if the canon doesn't provide, the fanom might as well do it

I have so many favorites and so many ships for this show now 🤣 I think I had like 2 max the other time O: surprisingly, Yusaku and Ai went kind of in the background? I wonder why..

I knew I would get obsessed with Akira even though I paid no mind to him before 🤣 what can I say, he's just my type hahahahahaha. I was already obsessed with Kengo before and it got much, much worse so congratulations me for the renewed and augmented Blood Shpeherd brainrot 🥺💜 I have always loved Shoichi and he'll remain as one of my favorite characters ever as well so it was a delight to watch this and have so many episodes and scenes with him, my heart is so fulfilled 🥺🥺🥺 I love Jin and also Lightning for all the wrong reasons (don't ask about it 🤣), and so many other characters too but lets focus on who is really important (and was very surprising): Spectre

I honestly do not know what happened that I got this much into Spectre? He was also one of those I didn't really pay much attention before, and he became.. my favorite character in this I guess???? Well one of them, but you get what I mean 😆 the long story short is probably me omega projecting on him, and his relationships with Ryoken. Let me dream, alright?

I don't know if I have the energy to talk about my ships but just know that I have a copious amount of them. It's a lot

all in all, Vrains is amazing and it would probably be my favorite YGO if not for all the production issues, really. There's several things I'd change and try to fix, but overall, it's fine and enjoyable as it is, thankfully

I don't know, I'm sad it ended and I wanna watch again right away LOL

#vra2024 #shif writes

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darsynia · 2 years

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Stuck On You | John/Rodney Oneshot

It's the iconic Stargate Atlantis anthropomorphic ice cube fic!!

Written in 2009 during a giggling time when the lot of us in the SGA fandom were sharing pictures of the silly shapes our freezer cubes were manifesting with. Someone even made fanart for me! John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, 1,421 words.

No tags because oh my god

Stuck On You

His first memory is of falling, tumbling end over end in an exhilarating rush that was over far too soon. He didn't even notice the pain of landing because he was too concentrated on the feeling of skidding forward, hoping and hoping there would be another drop off in his future. When he finally came to rest, though, it was in the corner of the container, flush with the frost-laden wall. There was only one other cube nearby, as most of the others had ended up in a jumbled heap right under the Spout-thing. He could just barely hear them, still settling in, the harsh sounds of ice against ice reflecting off of the plastic walls.

His inertia gone, all he could really do was lean up against the wall and think about how much fun the tumble had been. He allowed himself a bit of pride for having escaped the crush of cubes, as well--he was certain he'd have hated being stuck at the very bottom, having to take the superior attitude of those of the upper echelon.

"You'll get stuck like that, you know," a grumpy voice beside him said. It was the nearby cube, whose lower left-hand corner was a bit rounded, as though it had chipped off and been melted smooth again.

"Stuck?" he replied, not sure he liked this chipped cube's tone.

"Yes, stuck," it said in a lofty voice. "Don't you know anything about Temperature States and Melt Physics?" The way it said this made him upset. It wasn't like he'd had much time to learn anything, after all. Still, some things were instinct, he supposed, and he could feel something in the air around him--if he rested too closely to the slick wall, it would want to bond with him. He wasn't sure he was ready for that.

"Is that how you lost your corner?" he said, a bit defensively.

"Isn't that just typical," Chipped muttered to himself. Then, a little louder, it said, "You don't have much room to talk--at least I don't have a mutant edge. I thought there were regulations against that sort of thing."

The frost on the wall dulled any sort of reflection, but he knew what Chipped was talking about, he could feel the extra ice there. He kind of liked it, actually.

"Size matters," he said diffidently, enjoying Chipped's spluttering reaction. He was sure if the temperature in their freezer had been any cooler, it would have actually shed water in indignation. "Calm down there, Chipped," he said. "Think of how much worse it'd be if we were stuck in that mess." He couldn't gesture, but Chipped had to know what he meant. It looked really distracted--at the thought of more rounded corners, no doubt--before it spoke again.

"Chipped? Chipped! Do I look like I've got rough edges to you, you... you... Spikehead!"

He wisely kept silent during the tirade, though 'Spikehead' sounded wrong to him, so maybe Chipped had a point about the name thing.

"Well, what would you like to be called, then?" he asked. "Splutter?" he offered, waiting for the reaction.

"Oh, that's just awful. You don't get to name anything," Chipped/Splutter said disgustedly. "I'm... well. I'd really rather have been spherical--ice absorbs a lot fewer... contaminants that way. So, you can call me... Rod."

"Rod."

"What? You don't think I want to be completely round, do you?" Rod huffed. "What do I call you, then?"

"Whatever," he said. It really didn't matter to him much, though he had to admit 'Spikehead' wasn't something he'd answer to.

"Very helpful, thanks," Rod said sarcastically. "So..."

Rod didn't get to finish his thought, however, as at that moment there was a rush of unwelcome air from the door to the freezer as it was pulled open. He and Rod looked at each other helplessly as they heard and felt the loud thumps of different things being moved around. Suddenly, their container tipped sideways, and Rod slid smoothly across to land very close beside him, almost touching. The air around them felt wrong, and he felt the entire container vibrate as the freezer's motor kicked in, blowing deliciously cold air across the top of their hiding place. It wasn't enough, though.

"Oh, this is bad," Rod said, a twinge of terror in his voice. Rod started muttering something that he couldn't make out.

"What are you doing?"

"Shh, I'm calculating something!" After a long pause, Rod spoke again, not even disguising his fear this time. "We are so screwed. If that door stays open just five more minutes..."

"This is something about Melt Physics, isn't it?" he asked, trying to cheer Rod up.

"Yes, of course it's--oh, funny, Cowlick, that was brain-melting humor right there," Rod hissed.

"Hey, at least you didn't call me a drip," Cowlick said. He liked his new name, it had a nice ring to it.

"Less than an hour old and already he's making puns. This universe hates me," Rod declared.

They fell silent, waiting in trepidation as the door remained open and the temperature around them fell slowly, almost imperceptibly. He could feel Rod next to him, cold and comforting, and he had a sudden urge to try to slide closer. He didn't think he'd mind bonding if it was with Rod--and he didn't think that was just because his alternative was the orgy of dimwitted, unadventurous ice cubes behind them. Cowlick didn't know what to say, though, since Rod didn't really seem to like him very much and he didn't want to alienate the only other ice cube in proximity to him.

There was a wave of awful warm, moist air that dragged across them for long seconds and then the freezer door shut, mercifully.

"Oh, God. I'm sweating, aren't I! Am I sweating?" Rod babbled, tilting his curved corner toward Cowlick.

"You're fine," he said soothingly, and with a rush of frozen excitement, added, "--and even if you were..." his voice trailed off as Rod looked at him strangely.

"'Even if I were...' what?" Rod prompted after a few tense seconds.

"I'd try to um. Rub it off," Cowlick said, wishing the plastic under him were more slippery, so he could turn away. He didn't want to see Rod's disgust at this.

"You'd..." Rod didn't sound disgusted. He kind of sounded excited, or maybe nervous, voice breaking in a way similar to his frantic worry of a few minutes earlier, but different. It gave Cowlick the courage to continue.

"So you wouldn't, you know, have bumps when they froze. The drops. From the sweat." If it were possible to spontaneously heat up with embarrassment and anticipation, he'd be sweating too, right now.

"That's-- Really?"

Cowlick didn't say anything. He looked away from the intense look on Rod's face, and when he looked back Rod seemed closer, somehow.

"It still feels kind of warm in here," Rod said casually, but his voice was high and Cowlick sensed that something had changed. "Doesn't it feel a bit warm in here?"

"The freezer hasn't had time to compensate just yet, I don't think," Cowlick said slowly.

"I heard that, um. That pressing close together helps to conserve cold, actually," Rod said.

"That makes sense." Cowlick's voice sounded about four times more calm than he felt. Was Rod...? "Those cubes behind us are probably nice and cozy by now, then," he remarked.

"Well then. It seems a shame to deprive the world of a cube of my caliber, doesn't it?" Rod said, a thread of his former superiority trickling back into his tone. Cowlick focused on the plastic underneath him, trying to feel for a slick spot, anything that he could use to move, even slightly. There.

"So, do you--" Rod started to say, but Cowlick interrupted him by pressing close, edge to edge, side to side.

"Yes."

"Oh, thank God," Rod said, and Cowlick could feel his words now, instead of just hearing them. They were as close as two separate and distinct entities of chilled water could be, and it was glorious. It was like they'd been cast from the same mold; their sides fit perfectly together, and Cowlick thought he would be happy to stay like this forever.

A few frosty moments in time later, Rod spoke again.

"So, what do you think of frozen peas?"

Cowlick's laugh echoed off the plastic walls, and Rod's answering squeal of outrage was like the rush of falling again.

#stargate atlantis fic #traditional SGA crackfic #john sheppard/rodney mckay #they're ice cubes #this used to be on fanlore with a bunch of other great sga crackfics but someone got uptight and deleted that section #crackfic #john sheppard fanfiction #rodney mckay fanfiction #mcshep #if you like this i have more SGA john/rodney to share!#and the rest of it is serious stuff haha

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samtheflamingomain · 2 years

Text

the mystery machine

I'm into mysteries of all sorts - games, books, shows, what have you.

I started at 5, reading Nancy Drews and solving them halfway through and skipping to the end to confirm it. I expressed the simplicity of the stories to her, and then my mother gave me an Agatha Christie.

Those were a bit harder, and it didn't help that the first one was And Then There Were None, which was an insanely difficult solve for a 9 year old.

But I did solve it.

See, ATTWN actually has an epilogue that tells you whodunit, and my mother taped those pages shut because she didn't want me to spoil it and that's probably the closest she's ever come to understanding me.

It made me think for DAYS, rereading it twice. It was a lightbulb moment, I rushed home from school to say "Warren did it!" and my mother was fucking astounded. She really thought she was gonna get me.

From there, I kept reading Christies, but also other authors, and also, when I was 10, I got a Nancy Drew video game for Christmas. #11, Blackmoor Manor. My most-replayed video game by far.

If you're 9 playing a Nancy Drew start-to-finish on the first go, it could take well over a week, maybe 2. Today, speedrunning, I clock in at just under 3h.

I have played and won every single Nancy Drew game. Nowadays that's not much of a flex, but 20 years ago? Before the existence of the forums that have a thread for literally every puzzle? Add another 5 years before I even knew it existed, and the fact I solved every single game on my own till #14 or 15… it's probably the thing I think of most when I think about my level of intelligence.

(Kind of an aside but one day I was home early from school and caught my father... playing the ND game I was in the middle of, to get ahead of me to seem smart by pointing out the way to go. No, it wasn't to help me. It was for him to appear smart, and I know this because he literally said so.)

Fast-forward ten years, and I partake in mysteries of different kinds. Oddly enough, rather than video games, I've been into card/board games of mystery. Mainly the one-play EXIT games. A good 2-3h of mysteries as a game, $20, but only playable once due to having to cut up cards and such.

For Christmas, my best friend got me 2 kinds of mystery - a game in the EXIT series, and a book with 100 pages out of order, the goal being to put them in order, and only 3 people have ever solved it.

All this to say, I have a few categories of interactive mysteries. Does it have hints? Does it need hints? Do hints hinder the experience?

I started the book, Cain's Jawbone, and I already have several pages in order. It's… oddly, intuitive to me. I truly believe I will solve it. I haven't even looked up hints, though I likely will.

In terms of hints making a game worse, I'd point to something like Thief Sim, which is pretty damn specific, a $3 Switch download with a surprisingly well-made system of play. It's very smooth, very intuitive and not too punishing. But the game is absolutely blasting you in the ass with hints. Every house you burgle you somehow know the exact daily routine of every tenant. It would be harder but a lot more rewarding with fewer hints.

Hints that improve a game? Odyssey. I can't stand an open world without a map and directions. Odyssey, to me, is unplayable without the arrows because the world is just too open.

Time-travel back to when 9-year-old Sam started Blackmoor Manor. Ask me if I need a hint anywhere along the way and the answer is yes fucking please. I got none. I still won. But I'd have saved a lot of bullshit with hints. Again, there is a forum. But the games themselves have no hint system - well, okay, hold on.

So some games, you can access the internet. Sometimes you can call Bess and/or George and/or Ned to help… but their answers are usually just another riddle in themselves.

Early games have no hints, though. I'd say Blackmoor is the last of the early games, and the last one without a dedicated hint system. You do get internet, but it doesn't hint, it's part of the puzzles.

EXIT games come with Hint Cards. A LOT of the puzzles are just very badly written and even Hint 1 and Hint 2 don't help, and the first sentence of the Solution card is just the answer so very often you can't really get a step-by-step on how to get there before you're just told the answer.

Each game has 12 puzzles. The best one had 10 good puzzles. The worst had 2 good puzzles. We've played 4. Never have I had to pull the Hint 1, Hint 2, and Solution cards for more puzzles than that last game, and every single one was something stupid or something we were severely over-thinking and could never dumb ourselves down enough to get it and I'm not kidding.

But I think the best mysteries lie in a sweet spot of some amount of hints, but ones you don't necessarily need to consult to get the answer.

Ironically, the best example of this is actually one of the puzzles from the bad EXIT game I just talked about. When we do these games, only one of us pulls hints and then we try to guide the other to the answer. Sometimes it's just not possible because it's so dumb. Sometimes, it's rather seamless.

I got obsessed with a certain puzzle so Connor pulled the hints for me. The first hint tells you what exactly you need to solve. This hint was "You need Riddle Card E". I had it. No help.

Well, not no help - it lets you know you only need that one thing to solve an entire puzzle, which is honestly pretty rare. Usually you need at least 2 Riddle Cards and multiple pages of the book. Not this. Just that one card.

E was a simple 4-line rhyme that mentioned paying close attention to #13. Immediately, we went for the book (the game comes with a "journal" or some such with usually 10-15 pages of puzzles and letters/notes and stuff) but ours only went to page 12.

He's leafing through the book looking for a 13. I go through a few thoughts - when do they ever, EVER mention a number?? Usually it's symbols. We don't have page 13. Where else do numbers show up? Well, there's 3 decks of cards in each game - Riddle Cards unlocked as you go, A-Z. Hint Cards that help you, each with the puzzle's symbol on it. But Answer Cards, for when you think you've got it, are numbered. I almost think I'm cheating but I go for #13.

And there it is. A big yellow X. Wait, yellow, not red? Usually when you get an answer wrong it will tell you to pull a card from the deck with a big red X saying put this card back and try again. This card said "Put this card back unless you want the code 338".

But the funny thing is, I showed it to Connor and he groaned. I laughed and handed it to him and he just looked at me. "READ IT!!" He's like holy shit good catch.

Then 10 minutes later I'm absolutely adamant I'm going to solve this card so he pulls hints and it's the angriest I've been in 5 years.

Hint 1 - you only need the card you're holding. The card I'm holding has every letter of the alphabet, =, and a number 0-9. The top says, "What is the the wrong thing?"

I'm pulling fucking algorithims outta my grade-11-math ass, thinking syllables, checking how many of each letter appears in the book. Connor is dying. "It's just that card. Just… read it."

George is getting upset! I'm throwing everything at him. "What? What's wrong? A=3? How do I know if that's right or not??" There's an equation at the bottom. A few numbers added = 18, and it adds up. That's not wrong. So I start assigning those numbers to the letters but there's 6 possibilities for a 1…

"Stop. Read. The. Card."

Ugh. Okay so "'What is the wrong thing?' Those words are in order, so that's not wrong-"

"Are they?"

And instantly, there it is. "What is the THE wrong thing?" Like a goddamn Facebook post pointing out you didn't notice they skipped #4. Perfect case of overthinking, but then again, the entirety of that card doesn't matter except that extra The. Whoever made an entire fake cypher? I just wanna talk. Outside. I'm free after 4.

But some puzzles are legitimately so hard that you need to think that deep.

My favourite EXIT, and probably my favourite interactive mystery ever, is "Murder on the Orient Express" - the only game in the series with a 5/5 difficulty. And the only game where, for the very last puzzle, you only get one guess.

Every other game, if you're wrong, you pull a card saying "try again". We got Orient on the first try, so for a few minutes we just celebrated. Then we read the one card left and realized if we'd been one digit off, we would've outright lost the game.

Technically you could just pretend you didn't get it wrong and try again, but this game had a dedicated card to all 7 wrong answers telling you that you are murdered by the culprit. But it's cool cuz someone else solved the mystery.

I get why, I do, it's one of the lowest-rated games. It's very, VERY hard to pick the culprit among 8 suspects.

However, I started taking Game Notes at age 9 and I know how to notate a game with items you need instant/repeated access to.

Me and Connor have a routine. I lay out a table and tell him to read me every 3rd word, every time a food is mentioned, every date etc. and know how to organize such info.

It got away from me a bit, but I was trying to talk mystery with regard to hints. So let me finish by going back to Cain's Jawbone.

I'm used to, nowadays, having infinite hints just by a simple Google search. If I ever solve Jawbone, I personally wouldn't feel any amount of pride if I didn't at least give a hint to those attempting to solve. Because some things just need a word or a phrase to ignite a lightbulb. Gatekeeping a puzzle because of its exclusivity doesn't jive with me.

Some puzzles need hints. Some don't. I think the distinction is worth discussing.

Stay Greater.

#puzzle #writing #mystery #sam

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sur-un-fil · 2 years

Text

Ink demonth 2022 - Substitution

What kind of relationship do Sammy and Joey have?

Chapter 5 : 1930

"Mr Lawrence? Could you come to my office at eleven tomorrow?"

His employee stopped in the corridor and turned sharply to come back to him.

"Is there still a problem with the latest songs? We've taken your corrections into account, though, and we need to get on with the next ones if we're going to be on time."

Joey smiled slightly at the still defensive musician

"This is not a meeting, I just thought I'd ask you to have lunch with me. Maybe if we got to know each other better, we'd get along better and there would be fewer of my erasures among your music notes. I'm sure you'll appreciate that."

He stopped frowning and looked briefly surprised. He quickly returned to a neutral face, but Joey got the impression that he didn't mind the offer.

"... Fine," Lawrence said, shaking his head.

Joey watched him disappear around the corner. He had meant it. He hardly knew his lead musician, yet in hiring him he had spotted great ability in the young blond man. He had not been mistaken, of course. He had a real knack for picking up on people quickly, and relied on it a lot.

Even if some things escaped him because of overconfidence.

He pushed open the door to his office, keeping his fists from clenching. It was useless to think about it again. It had been several weeks since Henry had left, hadn't it? He really had to get over it.

...........................................................................................

"Can I ask you a question, Mr. Drew?"

"Sammy... I already told you to call me Joey, didn't I?"

He shrugged slightly, but his right hand was fidgeting nervously on the arm of his leather chair.

"Yeah, but calling my boss by his first name feels weird. I wasn't raised this way."

"Ah. I didn't think you still only saw me that way," Joey said in a sorry tone.

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I don't understand why you seek my company like that. I was told that the only one you were having lunch with before was Mr. Stein, and only because you're friends outside of work."

'Were. We were friends. That was over now. Why do you think you're here?' thought Joey acidly. Which was silly, but hearing about Henry still made him react way too much. He was like that.

He couldn't stand betrayal.

"I like passionate people, Sammy," he replied, playing with his shot glass. "The Studio is full of capable people, yes, but that drive to achieve perfection is not shared by everyone." He looked up at the musician. "I thought we could understand each other, since we're made of the same stuff. But if you're uncomfortable, we can resume the employer-employee relationship you seem to prefer..."

"No! No, that's not what I want! I... I was just confused, that's all. There's no problem."

"Very well, then."

Joey smiled, even though a shadow had been cast over the pleasure he was taking in the end of the day with Sammy. He finished his drink, stood up, and the musician immediately did the same. He walked him to the door of his office, wishing him a good evening.

When silence fell again in the room, darkened by dusk, he wondered if he had made a mistake. They looked alike. Not physically, of course, and Henry had been calm and collected where Sammy was restrained and nervous, but he was the same kind of straightforward, talented, hard-working man. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. But it wouldn't be the same. He wouldn't let Sammy get too close to him. The musician would be a pleasant distraction, a company to chase away the loneliness, a possible support in the Studio.

Nothing more than that.

.....................................................................................

"Come in..." Sammy threw out in a weary voice. His face brightened a little when he saw him. "Joey! I've been meaning to talk to you. I really need to..."

He joined him in two brisk strides and slapped him on the shoulder without letting him finish:

"Yes, we'll see about that later, I have something to tell you: I've managed to poach Connors!"

"Excuse me?"

"The GENT representative, you know, I've already told you about him. I've never met such a talented mechanic and I was desperate to get him to work for me on the machine."

Sammy rubbed the beginnings of a beard that shaded his cheeks and chin with a weary gesture. It took him a few seconds to remember.

"On this project to make Bendy alive, right?"

"Exactly! I'm sure with him it'll go ahead."

"No doubt." A slightly bitter smile played on his thin lips. "You always get what you want."

In his glee, Joey let out a light laugh.

"I'll take that as a compliment, my friend."

Sammy shrugged into his rumpled shirt. His eyes automatically returned to the sheet music on his desk as if he'd worked on it too much but couldn't help but continue.

"That's one, Joey. I'm sure if anyone can manage to bring characters from children's movies to life, it's you."

"Well, thank you! That goes straight to my heart."

Sammy just smiled tiredly at him and then picked up his pencil again, frowning at an incomplete line

Joey looked up at him with a sudden feeling of satisfaction. The musician was supporting him with his eyes closed, whereas Henry would certainly have had reservations and tried to reason with him, to slow him down by telling him it was impossible. He felt like rewarding him for that.

"Come on, let's celebrate over dinner! We can go back to that restaurant you enjoyed last time."

"It would have been nice, but I haven't finished writing this song and the deadlines is..."

"I trust you to finish it in time, Sammy!"

The other sighed then gave in, and stood up to grab his jacket and hat.

Joey had been just as happy to pick him to fill the void left by his so-called friend. Sammy was far more malleable than Henry, harder working and above all more loyal than he was. He had no family, no girlfriend. He also had few friends and Joey would make sure to do what it took to be his closest relationship. He didn't want to lose such a good worker again.

He wasn't going to look for a replacement every time.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #the ink demonth #sammy lawrence #henry stein #joey drew #toxic relationship #Bendy and the Ink Machine #The Ink Demonth

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the-lincyclopedia · 2 years

Note

4, 5, 6, 35 (IK it's not mine; that's okay XD), 43, 48, 50? :))

4. Do you write original stories as well?

Yes! I'm hoping to start draft three of the novel I'm working on soon, and I'm waiting to hear back from an anthology where I submitted a short story. Usually fandom gets my energy for short pieces of writing and original stuff gets my long-form energy; the fact that I'm trying to be a novelist is one of the reasons I don't write multi-chapters anymore.

5. What fanfic of yours should everyone have read?

This question makes it sound like I expect people to already be familiar with my work, which feels kind of arrogant to me. Assuming it's asking what fic I'd like everyone to read . . . see, I still want to let people pick and choose (and avoid stuff they're not going to enjoy or that they might find triggering)!

That said, I think I'm going to rec "To Every Single Kid I Used to Be" here. It has a much higher ratio of comments to hits than most of my other stuff, meaning that fewer people have read it than have read a lot of my other fics, but a lot of the people who read it wanted to let me know how much they liked it. It's a Jack Zimmermann character study, and I highly recommend bringing tissues given that most of the commenters say they cried (but also felt happy/hopeful at the end).

6. What is a fandom you will never write for?

Uh . . . it's hard to know where my obsessions will take me next, and I've definitely eaten my words before when it comes to thinking I wouldn't get into something. I guess I'm pretty confident I won't get into Hannibal? A friend from another fandom got really into Hannibal and never tagged their posts, and eventually I had to unfollow because some of that stuff really turned my stomach.

35. What is your favorite review?

Honestly, your comment was very very sweet! "I'm not even in this fandom" comments are very special and I definitely don't get them often!

That said, probably the most gobsmacked I've ever been by a fic comment was when I got this one (on "To Every Single Kid I Used to Be," actually):

I reread (and finished) the comic after I put it down 5 years ago and I didn't really mean to end up on ao3 but I had to see what kind of things people were writing about Jack being autistic (I refused to believe people just wearnt writing autistic jack of course) and shit. Not only is this an incredibly creative way to tell a story. It's a very fitting way to tell Jacks story specifically. This was absolutly wonderful. I had to take a break in the middle bc of how emotional I was, I still ended up crying. Thank you so much for this. I genuinely don't know if I'll read another OMGCP fic I've read two after this reread (yours being one of them) and they've just been so perfect I don't know that I need to read anything else. This was absolute brilliance. Thank you. Thank you so much.

Like, I genuinely don't know how to be worthy of this.

(Runner up to this comment on "Face the Future with You":

I havent even actually started reading this fic yet but i thought you might enjoy the fact that i'm BIG dumb and thought the name of this series was "Neurodivergent Zombies" and i was looking at the tags like 'it doesn't mention that this is a zombie apocalypse au'

Very excited to read this Zombie-Free fic tho

Just. The pure hilarity.)

43. Guilty pleasure tropes and scenarios?

When I got this one earlier I said insecurity, but now I'm thinking about tropes, and honestly? If you do it well, you can definitely throw the kitchen sink at me: fake dating, only one bed, amnesia, whatever your heart desires. I adore fic tropes (though I read them MUCH more than I write them).

48. What is your favorite sentence that you’ve used in a fanfic?

Oh wow! I have over 400k on AO3, so that's a big question. The first thing that comes to mind is "Caroline’s laugh tinkles like glass breaking, musical and jagged and dangerous," which is from "The Difference an Evening Can Make," one of my Lizzie Bennet Diairies fics. I want to think there are better sentences in some of my other stuff, but honestly I feel like I'm better at the story level than at the sentence level.

50. Can we get a teaser for an upcoming chapter?

I'm not really working on anything at the moment. The only thing in my Google Drive that I think has a particularly high chance of getting finished is the sequel to my summer camp AU, and I haven't touched it in a while, so who knows. Anyway, here's a snippet:

They reach the lake and walk out onto the dock. As they lay down next to each other, Jacques says, “Can I ask why you wanted to get out, or is that too personal?”

Bitty tries to shrug. It doesn’t work very well given that gravity is pressing his shoulders into the wooden slats of the dock. “It’s okay. I’m gay, and I’m not out to my parents. Honestly, I don’t think the camp I’ve worked at would ever have hired me if they’d known. I could handle it when I was in high school--I’d never come out to anyone--but now I’ve moved out and come out to my college friends, and I just didn’t want to go back into the closet for a whole summer.”

“Yeah. I get that,” Jacques says. “The closet is even less fun to return to than it is to live in the first time.”

“Oh!” says Bitty. “Are you--I mean, sorry; I shouldn’t ask--”

Jacques chuckles. “I’m bi. I’m, uh. Honestly I’m more public about it here, with the other staff, than I am at school. My parents have known since I was 17, but . . . well, let’s just say that it’s not exactly rare for American guys who voluntarily learn French to be some variety of queer. Actually, sometimes when I’m here I have to explain that I’m not gay. Which is very much not what it’s like at school.”

“Where do you go to school?”

“UW-Madison,” Jacques says. “It’s . . . I mean, it would probably be fine if I weren’t on the hockey team. I mean--shit. That sounded terrible. I like that I’m on the hockey team. I like playing hockey. I just. My teammates, sometimes, I guess . . .”

“I get it,” Bitty says. “I play hockey, too.”

“Really?” Jacques sounds surprised. “But you’re . . .”

“Tiny, I know,” Bitty cuts in, chuckling. “And fast as hell, thank you very much. With very soft hands.”

Get in on the ask game!

#a lin original #ask game #omgcp #omgcheckplease #check please #lbd #lizzie bennet diaries #fandom life #fandom stuff

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incognito-insomniac · 2 years

Note

7, 10, and 14 for writer ask game please!

Thank you so much for the ask! ^_^ Apologies for the late response. Life has been a lot lately.

7) What do you love most about being a fic writer for your fandom?

This one is tough because I really am not active in many fandoms in a way where I consider myself a part of them. I like a fandom. I write some fic for them. Then I hyperfocus on something else. I had a mixed leaning toward positive experience with the one fandom I was more active in. And even though I met some really great people, I honestly prefer just putting the fic out there without feeling like I'm contributing to a group thing. If people like it, they like it. If they don't, they don't. I've found I don't necessarily crave the discussion or camaraderie that typically comes from fandom. I enjoy it but the drama is not worth the reward. So I'll just be over here playing with my toy blocks and anyone who wants to play with me is welcome. ^_^

10) Why do you continue writing fics?

The thoughts must get on the paper. I have let a million stories float into the ether because I never wrote them down. The small few I am focused enough on and care enough about to write down are the ones I can come back to and enjoy time and time again. Then those even fewer that I finish and can publish are the ones where I can affect people and they can affect me and we can all come together and enjoy the thing I made which gives me a lot of happiness and a bit of pride in my writing. But that last part isn't truly why I write. It's just what pushes me to finish my writing. I write to get the words out. It is a very lovely creative outlet for me when I have the energy to do it.

14) Share a snippet

I really haven't been working on much in the last couple months. Work is draining all my energy right now. But I have been playing a bunch of Elder Scrolls Online so in honor of that I will post some of my Skyrim WIP with my Dragonborn Anla and my fav companion Stenvar.

"My friends call me Anla." "And we're-?" His question trailed off. "Two months on the road," she said plainly. "I'd hoped we were more than just acquaintances." "You hired me, ma'am. I don't want to overstep my contract." He sure was polite for a merc. And bashful. No that wasn't the right word even if that's how his words sounded. But she had the distinct feeling he was handling her like he would a noble or someone above his station. And she hated it. She didn't need a bodyguard or a servant or a meat shield. Whatever Stenvar thought he was to her. That wasn't the point of this.

#ask game #thank you!#my writing #i ramble

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willow-salix · 4 years

Text

Day 2 of Isolation on Tracy Island 2.0 (Fluffember prompt : sky)

Day 2 of Isolation 2.0 on Tracy Island and...well I'll be honest, it's not been too bad yet. Everyone seems a lot more civilised than they were the first time, maybe because it's not as bad globally as it was back in… March was it? What year is this, do I still have my youth or have they sucked it out of me?

Anyway, yes, they are better behaved than the first time, I guess because the shock's over with and it's been so long in a kind of half limbo that we're pretty used to it now. They spent the night trying to convince me that they had dragged me from my little witch cave for my benefit rather than theirs, they lie.

Either way, they are slightly less rowdy, according to Jeff, slightly tidier, according to Grandma but still not at all self sufficient, according to John.

I'd decided that, as I had little choice in the matter, I'd make the best of it. I strolled into the empty lounge, dropped my three bags on the floor, raised my arms and yelled at the top of my voice, "Honey, I'm home!"

I don't know what I expected, maybe to be greeted enthusiastically, to have various family members run in from all directions, so happy and grateful to see me, I mean, I was pretty open to any display of affection, truth be told.

But no, not one of them bothered to come and say hello.

"I might as well go back home," I grumbled to Scott who had finished the post flight checks of One and ambled in after me. "I even brought snacks and I'm being ignored."

"Snacks?" his hand was in the bag I indicated by kicking it with my toe before I'd even finished speaking.

"Well, now I know why I was wanted," I sniffed. "Let me guess, food standards have slipped now that you've all eaten through the meals I left in the freezers last time I was here?"

"That has nothing to do with why we wanted you," he assured me, flopping down on one of the couches with his pilfered bounty bar. He unwrapped the chocolate and bit into it, humming happily. "You always bring the best chocolate with you."

"Well, I don't like that American stuff you get," I dropped down beside him and stole the other half of the bar.

"There's nothing wrong with American things," he argued. "Quality products from there."

My eyes slid sideways to look at him. "Dude, are you counting yourself as a quality product?"

"Maybe," he didn't bother denying it.

There wasn't much I could say to that really so I shifted the conversation.

"Where are the other idiots?"

He shrugged.

"That's helpful, thanks." I sighed, resting my head back against the sofa. It was weird but this time really did feel so different, almost like it had been inevitable, we were just waiting for it to come.

"I'm not doing all the work this time," I warned him, "like, you guys are gonna have to step up, I refuse to be your maid and run around after you all like I did last time. New lockdown, new rules."

"We don't need a maid," he argued. "Is it so hard to believe that we just want you here so we're all together?"

I shrugged, still feeling a bit like I'd been both blindsided and guilt tripped into it, not to mention feeling rather damp and itchy from the decontamination chamber Brains has forced me into. I told him that I'd been extra careful, that I'd been following the social distancing, yet he hadn't listened and still insisted that I needed to be blasted.

"Here's the thing," he poked me to make sure I was listening. "Last time you were here to help us get through it. We were all feeling a bit helpless and frustrated and without you here distracting us and bossing us around, things would have been a lot worse. This time is different, this time it would be you stuck at home, we're still able to go out and do our jobs now, even though we're still getting fewer calls than normal and some countries aren't allowing entry, but because of that, as soon as your lockdown came in you would have been alone for a month."

"I think I could have handled that."

"Do you though, do you really?"

I glanced at him, not detecting the teasing tone I had been expecting. Could I have handled it? So many people were stuck alone, unable to see their loved ones, their friends and family or to even go to work again. All the little things that make life more bearable and they had been taken away again. I like peace and quiet, but I knew he was right, being locked away, on my own for another month, maybe longer, it wouldn't actually be good for me.

"Admit it, you love us, you'd miss us."

"I admit nothing," but he was right, I would. I hadn't really thought about it, I guess that's what everyone is doing, trying not to think about it all too much but, while the thought of having a month at home, in peace and quiet sounded like a dream, I wouldn't actually want it.

"You're back!" Alan yelled, cannonballing onto the sofa from parts unknown.

"I guess so," I conceded, trying not to melt when he squished up beside me and stole the chocolate I'd been eating.

"Do you mind?" I asked, purely because I felt I had to, not for any real need to tell him off.

"Nope," he grinned, popping the bounty in his mouth.

"Wait, that's…coconut," I trailed off as he gagged, looking for somewhere to spit it out. I handed him a tissue from my bag and he gratefully emptied his mouth.

"This is going to be hell, isn't it?" I asked no one in particular.

"Probably," Scott agreed, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "But at least we'll all be together."

"Joy," I muttered but I did hug him back.

"Are you going to keep a diary this time, too?" Alan asked, having recovered a bit.

"I might," I hedged, not telling him that I'd started yesterday. "But I'm not doing it alone this time, you're all going to help me. Deal?"

"Deal," he agreed.

Gradually a few more wandered in, mostly to pick through my luggage like the vulture that they are, knowing that this time I had been wise enough to bring the contents of my fridge and half my cupboards with me.

Gordon yoinked my pringles, Alan took my milkshake, Virgil helped himself to my chocolate chip cookies.

"Hi," the normally beloved voice said behind me.

I didn't turn around. "I blame you for the fact that I'm here again, you know that, right?"

"Yep," John dropped down beside me on the couch, lifting his arm for me to snuggle under.

"Cuddles will not make up for this betrayal," I warned him, not that it stopped me from taking advantage of it. Any Tracy in a storm and all that, plus this one might be the best, though I am slightly biased.

"We appreciate your sacrifice," he told me solemnly. "And to show our appreciation, we organised a little something."

"You did?" Did I sound sceptical? I believe I did.

"We did!" Alan joined in. "We did some research and found that it's traditional to eat baked potatoes and chilli tonight."

"It is?" I frowned, wracking my brains as to what the heck he was talking about. I was also slightly worried about who had done the cooking.

"Yes," John got up, dragging me to my feet and propelled me towards the windows. He nodded to Virgil, who messaged Brains, saying something I couldn't hear.

As one, all the other idiots surrounded us, all looking up, heads tipped back expectantly, like baby birds awaiting food.

"What are we doing?" I asked, completely confused.

"It's November 5th," Scott answered. "Remember, remember the 5th of November."

Oooooh. I didn't have time to answer as the first rocket shot up into the air, exploding in a burst of colour and sound, lighting up the dark night sky...

#thunderbirds in isolation #thunderbirds are go #isolation island #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds #witch #thunderbirds fanfiction

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stormtodoroki · 4 years

Text

Love Sparks

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x Reader

Soulmate AU

Warnings: None

P.O.V: Reader's

Word Count: 2,644

The knowledge about how and when Quirks came along goes far beyond my family's history, at least I think. My name is Aizawa, (f/n) and I am preparing for my UA entrance exam, thankfully my mother has allowed me to come to Japan from America for schooling. She mentioned something about being able to meet my grandparents as well as my biological father, if I get the chance. She hasn't told me much about him, every time I'd ask her she'd get really mad and tell me not to ask again, but I was persistent, I just had to know. But that's not the only thing I had to know, not only are quirks a fascinating part of our lives but so is the way we find our forever person, our body's receive a shock that courses through our bodies when we make skin to skin contact with our soulmate.

I stood at the main gates and took a few deep breaths, this was it, the beginning of my future, if I passed this entrance exam I will officially be a hero student at UA High. As I took my steps over the threshold and moved closer to the designated building I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I was holding. What if my quirk might not be good enough to get through? What if someone has a similar quirk and they have better control over it than I do? I stopped walking all together and was about to turn around when someone crashed into me.

"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING YOU DAMN EXTRA! STAY OUTTA MY WAY."

I looked up to see what I could only describe as an angry porcupine, his face contorted with rage if I looked at him close enough I'd probably see steam coming out of his ears. I let out a quick apology and nodded, he tsked and walked away grumbling, boy I would hate to be in the same testing area as him, I'm just grateful that I didn't say anything back to him. I shook my head clear and walked into the building, looking for my number I sat next to a kid who looked like he was in the wrong place, he dressed a bit too formal. I wonder if he's going to take the exam in that?

I took a quick glance around and gulp, there's a lot of kids here, I knew how prestigious the school was and how low the acceptance rate was, but this was just insane. My attention was soon directed to the front where- oh my gosh it's the Pro-hero Present Mic., he's giving us the run down for the practical? This should be good.

Present Mic. walked to the middle of the stage, he turned to all of us and screamed,

"Welcome to today's live performance. Everybody say, hey!"

We were all silent. You could hear crickets chirping.

"Well, that's cool, my examinee listeners! I'm here to present the guidelines of your practical, are you ready, there was silence, yet again as he screamed, "YEAH! "

Listening to Present Mic. screaming and talking loud like he always does began to give me a headache, rubbing my temples I tried to focus on what he was saying. A few rows or so away, I heard what sounded like muttering, I quietly turned and looked towards it, there was a boy with unruly green hair next to, I can't believe it… it's the angry porcupine from earlier who knocked into me. Though he didn't seem too happy to be next to the green haired boy.

"This is how the test will go, my listeners! You'll be experiencing 10-minute-long "mock cityscape maneuvers"! Bring along whatever you want! After this presentation, each head to your assigned testing location."

"Is that so kids from the same middle school can't help each other out?"

I heard from the duo behind me, shaking my head clear I was happy that I didn't know anyone from Japan so it'd be easier for me to take the test and not worry about any of my friends who were also trying to get into UA, all I have to do is worry about myself.

"Each site is filled with 3 kinds of faux villains, points are rewarded for defeating each according to their respective difficulty levels!! Use your quirks to disable, these faux villains and earn points! That's your goal, listeners! Of course, playing the anti-hero and attacking other examinees is prohibited!"

I noticed during this part of Present Mics. explanation, the boy dressed in formal attire next to me was twitching in his seat, he waited for Present Mic. to finish talking before he up abruptly stood up with his hand and paper in the air.

"Excuse me, but if I may ask a question?!"

Oh boy, this ought to be great…

"There appear to be no fewer than 4 varieties of faux, the one on this handout, such a bland, if it is one, is highly unbecoming for you. Japan's top academy we're all here today in the hopes of being molded into model heroes."

He then turned and pointed to Green Bean.

"And you with the curly hair, you've been muttering this whole time, it's distracting if this is some sort of game to you then please leave immediately! "

He muttered, sorry and put his hands to his mouth, I covered my mouth with my hand and fought back a giggle.

"Alright, alright, examinee 7111 nice catch thanks, but the 4th faux villain variety gets you zero points this more of an obstacle, have you all played Super Mario Brothers, the old retro games?"

"It's kind of like a thwomp! Only one at each site, a "gimmick" that will rampage around in close quarters."

I heard quiet murmurs about the zero pointer all around me and just shook my head in pity, clearly this is a decoy. Yes, there may be a zero pointer but it's more likely to be the biggest one there is otherwise there'd be more stationed at each site. They expect us not to worry about said faux villain, yet it'll probably be the most important one in the whole exam, I'll have to keep an eye out for it.

"Thank you, sir, I apologize for the interruption!"

With that the formal guy next to me took a bow and sat back down.

"That's all for me, I'll leave my listeners with our school motto, the great hero Napoleon Bonaparte once said, 'true heroism consists in being superior to the ills of life!' plus ultra!! Break a leg everyone! "

With that everyone got up from their spots and filed out in search of where they were to go. As I looked around the battle center I was sent to a breathed out a sigh of relief, neither the formal dude or the hot head were in sight. I looked around for the green bean to ask him what the hot head had shoved up his butt, but to my dismay he wasn't assigned to my battle center either. Looking around I see people meditating and conversing with each other, I don't need to do either. I began walking towards the front of the crowd marveling at the city front before me. I looked around and saw Present Mic. on top of a platform and smiled up at him and waved, like a buffoon he looked and and pointed to himself in confusion then waved back before pointing to the city urgently.

I took that as my cue to go so I took a deep breath and ran in, I made in about 10 feet into the city before I heard him call out.

"What are you waiting for?! There are no timers in real battles! Begin!"

I knew if I turned around I'd see all the kids running towards me so I decided to get some air coverage. Sticking my arms and hands out to my sides I shot up into the air leaving a trail of water spiraling down below me. I landed on a high rise and looked around the city, seeing a 1 pointer and a 2 pointer approaching I summoned a ball of water into my hands and contorted it into a spear.

I began to run and jump the rooftops closer to the faux villains and replicated the spear before throwing them both at each bot, taking them down. As the bots were falling I hopped onto them and used my water to slide down to the ground. Looking around them I did a double check to make sure nobody made it this far and accidentally got crushed by a giant falling robot. After seeing it was clear I decided to make way to the center on food, as I began to jog I heard a scream from behind me. I turned to look and saw a 3 pointer ready to crush a girl with pink hair and what appears to be horns? I looked closer and saw her foot was stuck and she was trying to get out without using her quirk on herself. I definitely wouldn't make it to her by running, so I had to muster up my energy and use my quirk from afar, something I'm not too good at.

"Hey! Close your eyes!"

The girl looked at me and nodded, I then stood next to one of the fallen faux villain bots and took a stray piece in a ball of water I expanded to its size, quickly I released the piece and expanded the water ball more until it was the size of the bot. I hurled the ball of water at the bot and encased it in my water ball before throwing the water ball into the air, it disappeared from the center and past the clouds.

"Okay, I may have been a little too extreme… "

I muttered to myself, as I walked over to the girl and helped free her.

"You good?"

She nodded and thanked me.

"Don't mention it, just go get some more points for yourself. I'd hate for you not to be able to get in because you were stuck and couldn't stop thanking someone who saved you."

After taking down a few more bots and saving a few people I estimate that I have around 35 points right now which means I should be in good standing. I was so lost in thought that I bumped into someone, they sent a shock through me and I froze for a second before shaking my arm.

"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hit you with my quirk are you okay?"

'What? Wait? He hit me with his quirk?'

I cleared my head and looked at him in confusion, that wasn't just the electric shock that goes through your body when you meet your soulmate?

"Oh… uh. Don't worry about it. I'm all good."

'Lies, why would I be alright? You know damn well it wasn't your quirk.'

He gave me a look of uncertainty and smiled.

"Hi, I'm Kaminari Denki. Nice to meet you uh… what's your name?"

I scoffed internally, 'really? That's how you're gonna ask me my name? Dude just how dense are you?'

"F/n L/n. Crap, sorry. L/N, F/N. Nice to meet you as well Kaminari. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go and rack up more points so if you don't mind I'll just be o-"

Kaminari cut me off by yelling.

"That's a zero pointer! No way! That thing is huge!"

Looking up I saw what he was talking about, I smirked.

"U.A. definitely lives up to its prestigious name. I am impressed. Wow. This zero pointer is glorious."

Kaminari looked at me like I was insane, as if I somehow sparked a fire in him he puffed out his chest in glee and smirked.

"All the more reason for me to prove my strength. Stand back L/N I'm gonna light this bot up."

I blinked in surprise as he ran towards the bot and he charged up- no way, he wasn't kidding. Large amounts of electricity sprayed out of his hands to the bot, it froze in place for a few moments with electricity spazzing all around the bots frame, but it didn't go down. Kaminari turned to me and gave me a thumbs up and a dumb look on his face.

"Kaminari you fool! You fried your brain with that foolish attack!"

The bot soon was out of its shocked state and raised it's foot ready to pummel the poor dunce. I quickly mustered up my strength and formed a water ball and sent it at Kaminari, once he was inside I whipped it at me. Kaminari and the water ball collided into me just as the bot stomped down where Kaminari was seconds before. I stood up and slapped Kaminari, feeling another jolt of electricity surge through me.

'Awh hell. This fool is my soulmate and he's too dense to realize it's not his quirk.'

I turned to the bot and watched it moved closer before turning back to Kaminari.

"After this exam you're taking me out for ice cream for saving your fried ass not only once but twice."

I turned back to the bot and sent two water balls towards the next spots where it would step, not satisfied with the ground I sent more until the bot stepped and sunk a few feet.

"Yes! It worked!"

I happily then made a few water spears and threw them at the bot before I took a deep breath in, closed my eyes and concentrated on a tiny ball of water in my hands, I needed to focus all my energy if I wanted to make this work. I slowly enlarged the ball in my hand and listened as it started to crackle and pop, taking another deep breath I slowly opened my eyes and smirked before shrinking the softball sized water ball and throwing it at the exposed part of the bot. Once it was a foot from contacting the bot I spread my arms out enlarging the crackling ball and watched as it downed the bot.

I looked to Kaminari and sighed. I need to get him somewhere safe until this wears off, if I leave him here he'll be an easy target for the other bots. I'm pretty sure there's five minutes left meaning I can still get a few more points if I hurry up. I took some gummies out of my pocket and threw them in my mouth, I'm lucky we were allowed to bring things in that would help us, otherwise I'd have been out for the count when I helped that pink girl. I led Kaminari to a safe area and smirked as a three pointer came out of the alley next to us, I jumped up with my water and formed water around my wrist as I plummeted down and punched the bot. It went down just as Present Mic. screeched.

"It's all over! Good job everybody!

Within moments Recovery Girl was by my side looking at Kaminari, she shook her head and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Kaminari blinked and looked around in a state of confusion before looking at me.

"Come on Kaminari, you owe me an ice cream."

I poked his cheek and was sent another shock of electricity, which he definitely would have felt as all and leaned into his ear.

"After all we are soulmates, and I just saved your butt."

I gave the shocked boy a knowing smile and grasped his hand and began leasing him away towards the exit. If we both somehow get into the hero course this was going to be one exciting year...

A/N: this is AU prompt was brought upon you thanks to the bnha discord server. You can find other works by member of the discord here:

https://liliesoftherain.tumblr.com/post/614256302090223616/mha-x-reader-discord-prompt-masterlist

#bnha au #mha kaminari #kaminari denki #x reader #denki x reader #mnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha kaminari #kaminari x reader #denki x you

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realmeisstuff · 4 years

Text

NIGHT SHIFT

(Hoshi Fanfic)

Her lids were getting heavier, but her gaze was going back and forth to the patient that she was supposedly looking after. It's not that she didn't want to do this job, it's just that the silence bores her.

Since they have fewer clients, the hospital had to lay off some employees, and luckily (unluckily) she was chosen to stay. But the downside is that she had to be on her own during night shifts.

She was actually an introvert, but right now she craves for an interesting conversation. One she wouldn't get from a confused, aphasic patient. But she didn't want to complain, afterall, she was there to work.

But then she just had to finish everything by 2am unintentionally, which left her with 6 hours time to kill, since the patient was stable.

She searched for her friends who might be awake at this hour, but there was none (obviously). Feeling daring, she tried to search for an app where she could chat someone. She really just wanted to talk to anyone, even though she knew what mostly happens in random chats, but of course she wouldn't cross that line.

First, she had to pick the gender she's interested in, then she had to click her age. Certainly, this is some dating modus that she's not looking for, but then again, she was bored. She picked Watashi wa Hana as her nickname, just because.

Most private chats would start with the usual "Hi" and "Hello", then random people with weird nicknames, would ask what country she's from. She contemplated for a bit whether to be honest, but she realized that lying would kinda be stupid.

To filter the chatboxes that kept appearing, she started the conversation with, "I'm kinda curious, why did you join this app?" As predicted, most would be so straight forward and would ask if she could send pics or do some sexy stuffs. Those private chats would automatically be deleted, she's not here for this.

TigerEyes would like to chat with you. She read. Unlike the others, he didn't start with the usual intro.

TigerEyes: r u Japanese?

WatashiWaHana: No, just got it from the lyrics of my favorite song

TigerEyes: Which is?

She immediately got that spark igniting within her, the same she got whenever she speaks to someone about her favorite music or other interests. She felt the need to promote but realized that she needed to tone it down.

WatashiWaHana: Some Japanese song. I think the title is Fallin' Flower. Sounds so catchy.

TigerEyes: Maybe I'll check it out. I'm boooooooored

That caught her attention, maybe he's just like her.

WatashiwaHana: Me too. Why did you join this app? I'm curious

TigerEyes: Hmm to have fun ofc. (Another predictable answer, she thought) Why, do you have anything else in mind?

Why does that sound so. . .provocative. Or was it just her imaginations?

WatashiwaHana:I like conversations, I just wanted someone to talk to. I'm bored

TigerEyes: okaaay, let's start a conversation then. What are your interests?

Hmmm nice, at least someone with sense, she said to herself. Maybe he'd be worth talking to.

WatashiwaHana: I like travelling, dancing, music. How 'bout u?

TigerEyes: I like dancing too, I sometimes do choreographies 😉

WH: That's impressive, you must be so creative.

TigerEyes: Yes I am, I could be sooo creative, I could fulfill your fantasies.

That was disappointing. She huffed.

She tapped her phone, while deciding whether to reply or not. It was the longest convo she had here so far, it seems like a waste to delete this chatbox.

TigerEyes: What are your fantasies?

She decided to be playful.

WH: I have lots of fantasies. In what exactly?

TigerEyes: Hmmm..What do you expect from this conversation?

He seems like a much more deeper person than she expected, but she get it that he's trying to be like everyone else who uses this app.

WH: I really just wanted to converse with someone, but I get what most people wanted to gain from this.

Most people? That didn't sound right for him, he didn't like to be like everyone else. But he gets why she thinks that way. He wanted to blame it to this stupid app, while denying his true intentions from awhile ago.

WH: It's cliche, really

TigerEyes: Fun

WH: Am I boring you already? (She laughed nervously, it's just how introverts are, she expected this already) Anyways nice chatting with you

She almost turned off her phone, when

TigerEyes: Wait. Let's make this interesting then

WH: Depends on your idea of interesting

TigerEyes: Oh no, depends on yours. What do you want? You told me you want conversations. So let's do that 😁

WH: Do you have any acquaintances here?

TE: I'm actually new here. Honestly I had a girlfriend but we broke up. I kinda miss her especially when I needed a company

WH: Oh that sucks. Do you want to tell me about it? They say that talking 'bout it helps you move on

TE:********

WH: You don't want to? That's okay.

She's starting to like this convo. Opening up is something that truly starts real conversations, and you rarely get that from strangers especially on online dating chat apps.

TE: How about you? Do you have some fantasies? How he should be? How he should treat you?

WH: I actually don't have anyone. Maybe that's why I donloaded this app 'coz I want someone to talk to. Maybe that's my fantasy. Chilling at the house with someone special, without fearing of not being able to go home.

TE: Don't regret. I still believe that best things are waiting for us. I'm willing to listen, just be yourself and tell me things. Like...umm ...what's your ideal date? If ever you meet that someone

WH: I want something cozy. Like lots of cuddles, coffee, movies and conversations, what's yours?

TE: I would like to take her to a romantic dinner date. Enjoy a sip of wine. Dance while holding her close and looking into her eyes.

WH: Sounds romantic. Kinda reminds me of romcom movies

TE: Thanks for the compliment.

WH: Have you done that with someone?

He didn't want to remember but it's too hard to forget.

TE: Yes. I did it with her before. I like taking her on surprised trips. She likes natural and serene places.

WH: Give me a recommendation where to go then

TE: Why? I thought you're single 😂

WH: Can't I go there alone? I told you I like travelling.

TE: Maybe you'd like to travel with me then. I could be your tour guide.

WH: Hmmmmm

TE: What? I don't bite! I have tiger eyes, but believe me I'm actually a hamster at heart

That made her chuckle. This guy seems so cute. It made her wonder why his ex- girlfriend broke up with him. He seems nice.

WH: I'd like that.

Now she didn't see that coming. Never had she ever thought that being bored during night shift would lead to meeting someone. Now she just have to wait 'til the pandemic is over to finally have that trip with her newfound friend.

#seventeenfic #hoshific #chat #kindatruestory

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monstersandmaw · 5 years

Note

So the new year has finally arrived, and I thought I'd ask some reflective questions. How have you/your blog changed since the start of last year? And if you're up for it, what has changed for you since 2010?

I love asks like this!!! I’m always up for being asked things like this, so thank you so much!! :D

Ok, so... How has both my blog and my little ghostli self changed since the start of last year?

Well, last January I was recovering from two small but painful foot operations, I was mega-unfit (I hadn’t done any regular exercise in maybe a year and a half and was sitting at my desk for hours and hours at a time without moving around). I was at rock bottom fitness, and it sucked. I felt like I’d wasted an entire year of my life (and my joint life with Mr. Ghosti) because my depression had got way out of hand and I’d kind of stopped... living??? My entire focus became writing and Monsters&Maw, so in that respect, the blog kind of saved me, but I’d let a few real life friendships slip into nothingness, and I was at my absolute heaviest weight too, which didn’t help things at all. But! I managed to get prescribed antidepressants (which I was able to come off at the end of last year too, which was nice), and I learned a few strategies around that time to help manage my depression.

In May 2019 we went walking in Wales with friends of ours. One of them is a marathon runner, and the other does a lot of hiking with her, and Mr. Ghosti does taekwondo... and then there was me. We went up Mt. Snowdon by the Watkin Path, which is one of the trickier ones, and I was so unfit I thought I was going to die... We did 18 miles in total that day, and I was physically unable to walk beyond the house the next day. They were all terribly kind and patient on the ascent when I had to keep stopping, but I felt so shitty... A few months after that, I joined a fitness bootcamp thing during a heatwave and wondered if I was losing my few remaining marbles, but actually in the six months since I’ve been going, my fitness has returned. It’s not where it was when I was playing lacrosse or doing taekwondo 5 times a week and competing, but it’s so much better now. I haven’t shifted the pounds because I can’t seem to eat sensibly, but that’s a job for this year now that I’m fitter. One goal at a time and all that...

From a ‘professional writing’ point of view, I think I’ve developed my style a bit more, and I’ve worked out a bit more about what I’d like to do this year in terms of writing milestones and goals, which is a comfort (if intimidating because it’s all or nothing with me). I want to self-publish my mlm werewolf novel (currently set to start going up in chapters on Patreon in a while), and I want to finish off some other ideas that have been kicking around for a long time. Last year laid the foundation for that, and having Patreon and my own income from that, modest though it is, has been a huge confidence boost.

Monsters & Maw, The Blog(tm), has had a colour change from black to green, and I’ve posted significantly fewer stories/less regularly, but I’ve hit a big follower milestone, which was honestly humbling beyond belief. I’ve learned so much from other people too, and that’s been a real gift.

As for ‘what’s changed since 2010′, well...

In 2010 I was in my first year of university (shit, that makes me feel old), I had undiagnosed depression that was ruining my life, I was on the wrong degree course, I was achingly lonely, out of control, and had no idea what I was going to do with myself when I finished uni (which is fine, in theory, but it scared me shitless at the time). I changed courses two years later (which wasn’t all that much better, but still), started going out with Mr. Ghosti in 2012 after being friends for two years or so), just scraped a 2.1 in 2013, and worked in a relatively well-known musuem for a while before deciding I wanted to do metalwork conservation. Got full bursary funding for the tuition (otherwise that wouldn’t have been possible) and headed off to do my masters, which I handed in in 2016, a week before I got married...!

I’ve had jobs I hated, jobs that were so stressful I made myself really very sick, applied for more jobs than I thought even existed, knowing that I didn’t want to do any of them but that I probably should apply anyway, got rejected by all of them, before finally finally telling myself (and my supportive yet sometimes extremely pushy family) that I’m going to be a successful writer. I’m 29 years old, and I’m going to publish something - be it self-publishing or with an agent and a publishing house - before I’m thirty. It’s not too late at/after 30, I know, but I’d like to feel like I’ve achieved that before then. I have until October.

So... in short...?

I feel like I’ve grown as a writer and as a person, definitely since 2010 and also since the start of 2019. I’ve changed, made mistakes, been hurt, lost loved ones, been humbled, made new connections, been desperately sad and also unfathomably happy at times, travelled, learned, got back up again, and have come out of all of that with a strange kind of ‘slightly cynical optimism’ if that’s not too much of a contradiction in terms...

Thanks for asking this, and for making me think about the last decade!! :)

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saltandlimes · 6 years

Note

I know it's not Sleepover Saturday anymore, but do you have any advice for writing a thesis? I'm trying to hard not to let my anxiety take over and also to not tip too far onto the other side (apathy), but it's really difficult and I'm worried I won't finish, or that I'll fail, because I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing and I have less than two months left to write basically the whole thing. I've been crying a lot because of it; I'm not sure I'd be able to live with myself if I failed.

*giant hug*

(Finally! A question that I have professional qualifications to answer! I’m going to include a possible detailed plan of work for 7 weeks under a cut that assumes you’ve got with most of the research done, but not much writing.)

You have two months left, give or take a bit. That’s definitely enough time to write a passing thesis, but there are a few things you’re going to have to do to both make yourself feel better about the work and make sure it happens.

First of all, spend some time (a day maybe) skimming other MA theses written for your program. While an MA thesis is supposed to be significantly more original than a BA thesis, it isn’t a substantial contribution to the field like a Ph.D. dissertation. Reading through a few recent ones will give you a chance to see this, and make sure that you’re not freaking yourself out by trying to do something too big.

Let yourself internalize this. It doesn’t have to be the best thesis ever written - if you’re thinking about trying for a Ph.D. some day, then your MA thesis isn’t going to be the document getting you jobs. If you’re interested in jobs that only need an MA, those are going to be less research focused, and thus, again, it isn’t going to be the sole document getting you jobs. So take a deep breath and remember that it has to be a reasonable representation of your work and thought, but not the best thing you’ve ever done!

There’s one other thing you’ve got to let sit in the back of your mind. Graduate education isn’t like undergrad. Your advisor will not let you get to the point of submitting your thesis if there’s a substantial chance you’ll fail. That just doesn’t happen, just as it doesn’t happen that a department will let you defend a dissertation if there’s a huge likelihood that it won’t pass. So your only worry here should be finishing a document that you’re reasonably happy with. You’re going to pass as long as your advisor lets you turn it in!

(As an aside, in most MA programs, if you’re actually not ready to submit at the deadline, they’ll let you have an extra semester! Again, the magic of grad school)

Last but not least (before I give you an example plan below a cut), here’s a wonderful secret of thesis or dissertation writing. No one ever feels like they know what they’re doing. Obviously senior scholars with tenor have generally gotten past this feeling, but other than that, the rest of us are just bumbling through. I’ve had a chaired professor ask me how a part of our Ph.D. program works, even though he’s been teaching here for much longer than I’ve been alive. Academia is a little of flying by the seat of your pants, a little of pretending to be the most confident person in the room, and a little of reminding yourself that you are more educated than the undergrads, at least. What you’re feeling is totally normal. That doesn’t make is less stressful, but I find it helps to remind myself that everyone else also got through this.

Ok. So here’s how I would go about getting this done if I were you! I’m basing this on a thesis length of about 15K-20K words, because that’s the average (about 50 pages).

Week 1 (this week): 1 day reading old theses, 1 day outlining exactly how your thesis will look. Make this a really detailed outline, filling in as many subsections as you can right now, and linking to everything you have written already. This will help you figure out exactly what you have left to write. Spend the rest of the week consolidating your research and inserting citations into each section of the outline where they belong. It will really speed up the writing process to have all these on hand so that you don’t have to look for them when you’re chugging along.

Week 2: Finish the methodology sections. JUST FINISH THEM. I know they suck. Get them done if you haven’t already. Then work on the body, but not after you finish the boring structural stuff. Aim to write at least 750 words 5 days out of the week.

Week 3-6: Keep writing. Keep up that 750 words per day pace. Only work 5 days of the week. By the end of week 6, you should have almost 18K written. MAKE SURE YOU TAKE WEEKENDS OFF. It will help you avoid burn out, and keep up the 750 wpd pace.

Week 7: Take the whole week to polish, read over, correct, and edit the work. Get a trusted friend to read over it for you and make notes. Submit your thesis and BE FREE. (Take a vacation afterwards).

Broken down like this, it looks a lot more manageable. You’re a great writer. You can easily manage 750 words a day on a subject you’re knowledgeable about. That’s fewer words than this post, and I wrote this in less than an hour!

#academia #ma thesis

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skys813 · 4 years

Text

Discovery

Chapter 5 (Arc Finale)

Me: Before we start, is there anything you'd like to say, Anxiety?

Anxiety: *gives me a hard look and then looks away* No.

Me: I see. Let's begin, then. Over the past couple of weeks we've been struggling to deal with a new possibility. I'm aware that in every happy reality Research conjured for us we were in a romantic relationship with implied sexual undertones. The new possibility suggests that we don't find a romantic or sexual partner in the future. Up until now it's only been a vague suggestion, however, after further examination, I thought it would be best to bring it to the council's attention as a legitimate possible plan for the future.

Anxiety: I don't see why this is relevant given that Sexuality is obviously a lesbian. Haven't we been over this already?

Me: Actually, we haven't. That was a suggestion you made, not a fact of life. Which brings us to our first issue; determining Sexuality's true orientation. I'd like to bring some memories to the front if you don't mind. Let's start with a few questions I asked after I first learned what sex was. "Do I have to? Can I be married without doing it? Can I have kids without doing it?" Our first reaction was aversion. Of course, that's normal at the beginning, but those feelings never went away. Instead, it changed to reluctant acceptance that this is what would happen to us. The truth is that we never felt sexual attraction towards anyone, regardless of their gender. We knew instinctively we wouldn't like sex in any form, but we pushed the feeling down and convinced ourselves that it'd be fine and we'd just have to do this for love.

Love: Is that not true? The only lifelong bond that allows us to be as invested and dedicated as we wish to be is a romantic one. Friendship can be strong, but it's not the same, Sky. We would not be prioritized the same way, you can't expect that of someone. If they have a romantic relationship with someone else, they have to prioritize that person above you, regardless of how close you get. Only a romantic bond guarantees you that level of trust and faith in each other. The exclusivity.

Me: I understand and accept that we wouldn't always be prioritized above the person's romantic relationship, but the rest is simply not true. It's possible. Research, if you'd be a dear, and pull up the definitions of a Queerplatonic Relationship and a Zucchini.

Research: A Queerplatonic relationship is defined as "a committed relationship that is neither romantic nor sexual in nature but is based on an emotional bond beyond friendship, often between aromantic and/or asexual people" (AVEN, General FAQ, Definitions). "A zucchini is a partner in a queerplatonic relationship. The commitment level between partners is often considered to be similar to that of a romantic relationship, but with platonic love. Zucchinis may be of any romantic or sexual orientation" (AVENwiki).

Me: Thank you, darling. As you can see, it's entirely possible. In fact, it's so possible and has been felt and established by enough people that there are terms to describe the relationship we want. That's what we were looking for all these years, not some romantic relationship, much less a sexual one.

Anxiety: I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you've only proven sexuality is ace. Romance has been on board waiting for Prince to show up since day one. And we already agreed that Sexuality's orientation would be irrelevant to us in such a scenario as we would want him to be fully satisfied in the relationship.

Me: Romance hasn't actually been very vocal about her desires, she's been going along with whatever you and Research determined would be the best scenario. Again, let's pull up some memory files. First, there was her "crush," which she picked out for us much like one would pick out fruit at a stand, and is also a shared experience among other aromantics. We were never jealous of his relationship with our best friend or hurt by it, but instead helped them with arguments and were happy for them when they were happy. She shies away from any possible romantic partners under the guise of obeying our parents and religion when we all know full well we're stubborn and reckless enough that if we had ever desired such a relationship we would've acted on it by now. But we haven't.

Anxiety: Because no one has been worth the risk! We just haven't had the chance to meet the right person and it was never the right time before. We were too young.

Me: No one? When was the last time you saw Romance actually consider anyone as a potential partner?

Anxiety: That's because we're waiting for Prince, no one else is worth considering.

Me: That makes no sense and you know it. We can't find him if we never look. And Romance isn't interested enough to look in the first place. The fact of the matter is that she hasn't been active since we finally settled comfortably in our relationship. We might not use fancy terminology, but that's the nature of the bond we established with our best friend. The meaning we agreed upon for the relationship is the same as the one listed for queerplatonic relationships.

Anxiety: It's just too risky, it's irresponsible to put all your eggs in one basket like that. Friendships are fragile and fleeting-

Me: So is every other relationship. Friendships are not less than other bonds, they're equal and valid and they are what you make them. I believe in this one.

Anxiety: Fine. Don't listen to reason, whatever. But you might want to consider Love's needs and that certain aspects of our dreams would be off the table right off the bat if we went along with this madness, such as children and the home life we were so desperate to create one day. That's a dream you can't deny. You can't adopt children in a platonic relationship, so unless you plan on being a hypocrite and going out to have sex, praying not to catch an STD, and hoping to get pregnant that way, children would be completely off the table for us.

Me: First of all, it wouldn't be hypocritical, asexual people can have sex. But I do agree that that option is extremely unappealing all around. However, it wouldn't be as big a deal as you're making it out to be. Our motherly instincts can still be fulfilled if we add the found family element; we'd build a group of friends and mother them just like we used to. Love, how do you feel about that?

Love: I want children. We've always wanted children, I can't let go of that dream overnight. Mothering some friends isn't the same, I don't know if it'll be enough. I can agree to build new visions and scrap the old ones and incorporate Sexuality and Romance's identities, but you can't ever expect me to stop wanting children. I'm sorry.

Me: Don't be, it's who you are. Thank you for being so understanding. Research, what do you think?

Research: To be absolutely frank with you, I'm glad this is who we are. No husband to tie us down, fewer responsibilities, financial independence. It spells out a lot of opportunities to explore the world that we might not have had otherwise. And, no offense, Love, but children are expensive as hell. Our horizons just quadrupled without that financial and emotional burden. I vote yes.

*an awkward pause where Anxiety fumes on the side and refuses to say anything*

Me: .......Anxiety?

Anxiety: I'm the one who played the dreams. Are you happy now? You were right all along, and I was wrong. We're aro ace.

Me: I know.

Anxiety: *head snaps up* What?! You knew? How? And how long have you known? Why didn't you say anything?

Me: I think the meeting's done now, let's continue this privately. Love, Research, please act according to the council's decision and inform everyone of the verdict. Thank you. Anxiety, walk with me, darling.

Then.....

Sexuality blinks sleepy eyes open and looks around. Someone is by her bedside that she's only ever seen from afar. She tentatively lifts her hand and runs her fingers through Libido's hair. Her birthmate. What was she doing here? Libido stirs and murmurs something incoherent in her sleep before slowly opening her eyes to look back at Sexuality. Libido smiles softly.

Libido: You're finally awake. *jerks up frantically* Oh shit, you're awake! Oh my God, how're you feeling? Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Who do you want me to get for you? Do you want some water? Of course you want some water, what am I thinking-

Sexuality grabs Libido's sleeve as she makes to get up. Libido looks back, concerned and on the verge of panic. Sexuality shakes her head and tugs Libido back to her side.

Libido: Are you sure you don't want me to get you some food and water? You've been out of it for a while.

Sexuality shakes her head again and tugs Libido back down into her chair.

Libido: Okay, then. Um. Let's see, how do you usually communicate with Romance?

Sexuality: *gestures in sign language*

Libido: Oh, yeah, that makes sense. I don't know any signs though. Do you want me to get Research? They might be able to translate. Actually, they'll know what to do about all of this and what you need and-

Sexuality grabs and squeezes Libido's hand and she falls silent. Sexuality smiles briefly and shuts her eyes.

Libido: Oh. You're tired, yeah, that makes sense, too. Sorry about all that. Go back to sleep, sweetie. I'll notify the others when you're ready.

It was a while later before Libido realized that Sexuality had been fully aware and responsive during those few minutes without throwing up. On top of that, she'd made contact with Libido without any noticeable harm befalling her. Sexuality was, at long last, fully recovered.

Meanwhile.....

I walk with Anxiety down to his room. It resembles a library, but instead of books, there are notebooks, each and every one of them filled to the brim with scribbles and half-finished thoughts.

Anxiety: Welcome to my lair, oh annoying one. Have a seat.

Me: I think we need to discuss why you're so against us being aro ace.

Anxiety: I already made it very clear-

Me: The real reason, Anxiety.

Anxiety glowers at me for a few minutes. I don't look away and he finally backs down grudgingly.

Anxiety: *sigh* Do you remember what we were like when we were a kid? What we thought of ourself?

Me: How can I forget? I was the brattiest, most arrogant child I've ever had the displeasure of having to think about.

Anxiety: *shakes his head* I mean before Prince, specifically. We were in a low place and we had accepted that we would die old, bitter, and alone. I just don't want us to go back to that again. It was devastating enough the first time around for all of us. At least like this, it would've only hurt Sexuality and Romance.

Me: Anxiety, listen to me. We are not who we were five years ago. That vision of the future was built on self-hatred and hopelessness, that's why it looked like a doomsday vision. This time we're rebuilding to take care of ourself and every aspect of who we are. We don't have to sacrifice Sexuality and Romance to be happy. We can just build a future that makes all of us happy by accommodating them too. We would've never been happy if we'd tried to suppress them.

Anxiety: *shakes his head stubbornly* We can revert right back to where we were, not enough has changed, not nearly enough. I've just collected more reasons to hate ourself since then, there's no guarantee it won't happen.

Me: *eyes sharp, trying to casually scan the notebooks* There is one thing we could always do..... If you'd allow us, I mean.

Anxiety: *torn between hope and trepidation* Like what exactly?

Me: Burn them.

Anxiety: *stands up and positions himself between me and the nearest shelf* Get out. Get out right now!

Me: *stays seated calmly with my eyes fixed on his* Only the notebooks where you write all our faults. The memories would all stay intact. All your other notebooks would stay exactly where they are. I'm only suggesting we let go of the guilt. Those notebooks are as old as I am, cataloging every tiny mistake we've ever made, every embarrassing thing we've ever done, every regret. You're absolutely right, we can't move forward until we've let go of all of that. We have to move forward, Anxiety. The council has come to a decision. Something has to give or we really might revert back to what we were before.

Anxiety: Then we would've learned nothing! Do you want to repeat all the mistakes we've made?

Me: A gentle reminder that you're the reason we made some of the more serious mistakes.

Anxiety: Don't you think I know that? That's why I refuse to let go of them. If we never forget, if we never stop regretting them and feeling guilty for them, then we'll make up for it and we'll never do those things again.

Me: Darling, that's ridiculous. You do realize that you've written down things as small as chopping the wrong vegetable by accident at our job, right? And the serious errors in judgment are almost all from our childhood, from years ago. We've grown, we've changed, and we're past that now. We can't stay this way forever, hating ourselves for every tiny inconvenience we've ever caused anyone. Please, Anxiety, we have to burn those notebooks.

Anxiety: No. You don't understand. We can't! No! *clutches at his head and his breathing becomes shallow and rapid* I can't. You can't. I can't.

Me: Anxiety? *gets up slowly* Are you okay?

Anxiety: No! We can't! We'll never be good enough. We'll never be happy. You can't erase the past. We're horrible, can't you see that? So horrible. Horrible. Horrible!

I notice a smoky shape formed behind Anxiety, whispering in his ear and grinning at me. The time for conversation is over. I carefully sidestep Anxiety who is too wrapped up in his sobbing to notice my movement and try to punch at the shadow. My hand goes right through it. Right, then. Those notebooks need to burn. Now. I step behind them slowly. The creature turns to watch me but continues whispering to Anxiety. I reach for a random notebook to test out the waters. No reaction besides a widening smirk. Good. I quickly scan through the notebooks until I find the section I need before looking up again. The shadow is still, watching me with a contemplative frown while Anxiety drops to hug his knees and hide his face as he cries. I collect the notebooks loosely in my arms, carefully noting how tense the shadow is getting. It stands between me and the door. I had a feeling it would find a way to stop me if it wanted to, smoke or not. I edge my way back to the table and set the notebooks down. The creature relaxes. I sit down and pretended to start reading one. After a few moments, it loses interest in me and goes back to tormenting Anxiety. It starts to whisper faster, progressively more aggressive. When it looks to be distracted enough, I grab the notebooks and run. I hear a shriek of anger not long after but it doesn't follow me. I run and run until I reach the common room and dump the notebooks on the floor.

Me: Research, get over here! I need lighter fuel! Love, if you could grab a lighter for me, that'd be great! Now!

They get up from the couch without a word and go about getting the requested items as I start tearing the notebooks apart. By the time they get back, I've torn haphazardly through the notebooks and stacked them in a hollow pyramid shape. Research douses them all and I give Love a handful of paper to light before I carefully place them under the rest and watch the fire spread. Anxiety rushes into the room with a much-faded version of the shadow I'd seen behind him, but by then even the topmost of the pyramid had caught fire. The creature shrieks and Anxiety faints into Research's arms.

Research: *sighs* I should've known something like this would happen. I'll take him to the infirmary.

Love: What just happened? Who's Research taking to the infirmary and what did we just set on fire?

Me: Don't worry, Love, everything's going to be okay now. C'mon, let's sit down and I'll tell you everything.

Then.....

Romance jerks awake gasping and clutching at her neck and chest and starts coughing. Sensuality rushes into her room and gives her a crushing hug.

Sensuality: You're alive! You're awake! Oh thank God, I won't be left with just Aesthetic for company!

Aesthetic: Hey! I can hear you, you know. And good grief, get off her before you really kill her. Welcome back, Romance. How're you feeling?

Romance: *gestures for water*

Sensuality: I got you, just a second. *runs out of the room*

Aesthetic: *hands Romance her board and marker* Figured you'd have a lot to say after being out of it for so long. Wanna elaborate on the whole "help Anxiety" message you left? Cause it really didn't help, for the record. What'd you want us to do, tie you and Sexuality up and dump you in the basement for him?

Romance rolls her eyes as Sensuality comes back in and accepts a glass of water with a quick nod of thanks. She downs the whole glass in three giant gulps and sets it down before relaxing back against her pillows a bit. She starts writing.

You're both idiots, for the record. I bet you didn't even try to figure out what I meant, just sat around worrying as usual. It's alright, someone must've figured it out since I'm awake now. We'll all hear the story in detail, I'm sure. Right now, though, I'd much rather discuss Sexuality. Is she okay?

Sensuality: Well......I mean, she's definitely safe now, we made sure of it, right Aesthetic?

Aesthetic: *nods her head with a smile* Don't worry, Romance, we took care of our little sister. She's safe.

Romance: *relaxes a bit more*

Good. At least you did something right. Who's guarding her? Libido, right?

Sensuality: *shocked* Yeah, actually, how'd you know? I thought you'd be upset.

Romance: *smiles* *writes*

They were never meant to be apart. They're different, but they're still birthmates. You know how strong that bond is. They'll figure it out. They just need time. We all do.

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apollos-favourite-bastard · 7 years

Note

Hi Ryan!! I love your writing so I'd love to peek at what you've been working on! No pressure though of course by the way

Well, Nonald, it would appear you’re the only one, but thank you. I’ve put a little bit under the read more for you. It’s not the original ~10k I was going to put up if people were interested, but I hope you enjoy it anyways.

Green sparks flare to life when Niall rounds a corner a few blocks from his house, quickly twisting themselves into the form of a dragon as some young bloke spots him with a grin and a bright sparkle in his eyes. A performer, trying to prolong his days of profitability in this little place before he has to move on to a bigger town, somewhere with more competition and fewer people who might be awed by his parlor tricks. He clearly thinks he can draw Niall in, the mandated beige color of his jumper a giveaway of his status and possibility as a mark.

Niall has stepped into the street before the wings can even unfurl on the creature, crossing to the other side of the road without a second thought. He has no intention of contributing to the lad’s delusions of grandeur, or encouraging him to stay in the village any longer than necessary.

“Well, fuck you too.” the lad calls after him, making Niall’s eye twitch, but eliciting no other outward response, until the added, “Fucking non-magicals.”

“You got a problem, mate?” Niall spits out harshly across the empty street, his body going rigid as he turns to glare at the lad.

“Yeah, actually, I do.” the lad says, stalking across the street. “I just tried to put on a nice show for you, and you can’t even be bothered to look. You cross the street, like I’m some kind of menace, out to hurt you. I’m just trying to make a living here, and the least you could do is appreciate it and drop a few pounds in the box.”

“I’m not interested in your show, and I don’t owe you anything.” Niall bites out.

“You say that, but I think you owe us a lot.” the lad smirks. “After all, this isn’t the S.E. You don’t live in a labor camp. We let you roam around freely. I think that deserves a bit of a tax.”

“You’re, what, nineteen? Twenty?” Niall asks, looking the guy over. “You’re young. Stupid. But I’m going to give you a chance to take that back and reform your opinion before you regret it.”

“And what’ll you do if I don’t?” the lad asks, stepping forward while the green sparks flare up again in both of his hands this time. They don’t take form, just jump around in electric arcs between his fingers, a simple shock spell. His mistake.

“Make you regret it.” Niall answers firmly, eyes locked with the kid’s.

A typical magician, the lad thinks with his magic before his head. He’s too cocky, reaching for Niall’s arm to remind him of his place, painfully. He doesn’t expect Niall to know anything about anything, because non-magicals don’t know anything in his mind. They’re laborers, commoners, inferiors. How could Niall possibly comprehend anything when he doesn’t have a spark of magic in his veins?

The real question, though, is how could this lad have survived this long while being so dense?

His hands are coated in sparks, but his clothes aren’t. His wrists and arms are covered in expensive fabric that he likely doesn’t want to char just to protect himself from someone he sees as beneath him, and that leaves him open. Niall is quick, years of boxing and stolen games of footy kicking his reflexes into gear as soon as he sees something coming at him. He grabs the lad’s arm after ducking under it, bringing his leg forward to sweep the kid’s out from under him.

In one fluid movement, he turns the magician’s weapon in on his own chest, connecting with the skin there and sending an electric pulse through him. He shrieks and collapses to the ground, not two seconds having passed since he decided he would teach Niall a lesson.

Niall crouches down, voice dropping low as he says, “A low-level magic user like you hasn’t got the brains or talent to be a threat to anyone. Remember that before you decide you deserve anything. And remember that there are a lot more of us than there are of you.”

The kid doesn’t respond, can’t, in his state. He’s too busy twitching and literally pissing his pants to have even heard a word Niall said. He doesn’t need to, though. Niall’s message got across just fine.

“Oh, look who decided to come home sometime tonight.” Calum scoffs as Niall makes his way into the sitting room.

“Sorry. Got a little caught up on the way home.” Niall says quietly. “Got you some muffins to take back to the shop, though.”

“You know the way to my heart.” Calum grins, catching the brown, paper sack that Niall tosses to him. “But you only get sweets when you’ve done something bad.”

“Just got into a little scuffle.” Niall shrugs, setting the bag with Molly’s favorite orange and cranberry scones on the table and toeing off his boots. “Reminded some arse that not all of us are livestock.”

“Niall.” Calum sighs out his name in a quiet reprimand. “You can’t just go around assaulting magicals.”

“’t was self-defense.” Niall mutters. “Bloke said I should pay him a tax just because I’m not in a labor camp, and tried to attack me when I told him to back off.”

“Well- I have nothing to say to that, then.” Calum hums. “We don’t all think that way, I promise.”

“I know.” Niall sighs. “I do know that. He just- Fuck, he pissed me off. But he also made the first move.”

“I’m sure he did.” Calum nods. “Let me guess, magician?”

“That bloke doing parlor tricks on Rose and Vine.” Niall tells him.

“Oh, I’ve wanted to teach him a thing or two before.” Calum smirks. “He’s gotten mouthy with Luke and Ash as well.”

“Well he’s probably waking up right about now, if you want to add in your thoughts.” Niall tells him. “I’ve got it from here. Give Luke my love. Not Ash, though. He’s been right grumpy.”

“He dropped Luke’s favorite teacup, so Luke’s been withholding contact.” Calum giggles in explanation, pushing himself up off the couch and heading for the door. “Drawn me in on it just so we can watch him twitch and take the piss out of him for it.”

“Not something I needed to know.” Niall scoffs, wrinkling his nose up.

“Don’t be bitter.” Calum hums, slipping his shoes on. “Your celibacy is showing. You know you’ve got an open invitation.”

“Shut it.” Niall groans, halfheartedly chucking a wadded up napkin from the table at him, only to watch it flutter uselessly to the ground halfway there. “Innocent ears.”

“She’s asleep.” Calum says with a roll of his eyes.

“No you aren’t, are you, lovebug?” Niall asks into the air, turning to look at the chunk of wall that hides the hallway from view. “You’re awake and listening to conversations you shouldn’t be, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” comes a drawn out, high-pitched giggling response, accompanied by a head of messy hair and bright blue eyes peeking around. “How’d you know, da?”

“I always know when you’re up to no good.” Niall chuckles, opening up his arms. “Got a sense for it, I do.”

“Shit!” Calum hisses out, making Molly shriek out another giggle as she tears across the room into Niall’s waiting arms.

“Get going.” Niall says, shooting Calum a withering glare. Calum, thankfully, gives a sheepish wave to both of them and then disappears out the door, closing it behind himself. Molly settles into Niall’s lap, head resting against his chest, and he asks, “How much of that did you hear, then?”

“Just the last bit.” Molly admits, eyes already half-lidded now that she’s got her favorite pillow in the form of Niall’s body. “I have to move slow to get over there without you hearing.”

“Slowly.” Niall corrects her, shaking his head and pressing a kiss to the top of hers. “You have to move slowly.”

“What’s cell-busy?” Molly asks, grabbing the arm Niall hasn’t got around her back and pulling it closer to ask for a hug, to which Niall gladly obliges her.

“Nothing important, lovebug.” Niall chuckles. “Did you have fun with Cal?”

“Yeah.” Molly says around a yawn, fighting the steady increase of weight on her eyelids. “He helped me draw some pictures, and then we did a puzzle.”

“You’ll have to show me tomorrow.” Niall murmurs, hiding his smile in her frizzed-out hair, already a tangled mess from the ten minutes or so she spent in bed before she decided to sneak out and eavesdrop.

“Do you work tomorrow?” Molly asks, the words muffled by her own fist in front of her mouth, her go-to comfort position, even after Niall finally got her to break her thumb-sucking habit a couple years ago.

“Not until nighttime.” Niall tells her.

“Can we go to the shop and get a new book?” Molly begs.

“I just got you three new books.” Niall points out.

“I finished ‘em.” Molly tells him, making his smile grow even larger.

“Suppose we have to, then.” Niall agrees. “But now it’s time to get you to bed, lovebug.”

“I wanna sleep with you, da.” Molly says, breaking the spell of drowsiness just enough to look up at him with pleading eyes.

“How could I say no to that face?” Niall gives in, the urge to fight never crossing his mind.

#TMT #Nonald

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dawnfelagund · 7 years

Note

Hi! I thought it was interesting that you mentioned becoming self-sufficient was very important to you. If you feel like sharing, I'd love to hear more about it!

Absolutely! I love talking about this topic but, since I’m aTolkien blogger, I assume my followers aren’t interested. But I’ll gladlyjabber on about sustainability and self-sufficiency for hours. (However, I’lltry not to actually write a post thattakes hours to read! ^_^)

Mr. Felagund and I are both millennials. We were both bornin 1981, which makes us oldmillennials, but the definition in recent years seems to have settled into arange that includes us. As such, we were beginning our lives as independentyoung adults right when George W. Bush was destroying the U.S. economy. Iremember when it was officially announced that the U.S. was in recession andbeing surprised that no one had realized that yet. We’d been suffering foryears: the usual borderline poverty that most young people endure when theyfirst move out on their own, compounded by the fact that unemployment was high,which employers took as license to underpay, overwork, and otherwise abusetheir employees.

We were both among those employees. For more than a year, Iwas led on by my employer to believe that my contractual position would be madepermanent if I helped him with the restructuring of the agency within I worked.He wasn’t very academically smart; I was, so when something needed to bewritten or created, I did it, although it was not in my job description and Iwas not being paid for it, in an attempt to secure a tiny bit more economicsecurity for my family. Probably needless to say, when the time came forpositions to be made permanent, my boss’s was and mine was not. My hours werealso cut 20% and my workload simultaneously increased due to the restructuringof our agency. At the same time, my husband was commuting two hours one-way toa good-paying job; he had to leave at 3AM to avoid Washington, DC, traffic, sohe had the choice of giving up his life to go to bed at the same time as aseven-year-old or to live on four or fewer hours of sleep. He chose the latterand became sick and depressed as a result. Like me, he was also a governmentemployee and, under Bush administration appointees, was more regularly beingexpected to support positions that intellectually and ethically he found to bewrong. We were both constantly fighting against our employers both in overt andin passive-aggressive ways. (I may have used work time to write an awful lot offan fiction and run the SWG, for example. >.>)

In the midst of this, it occurred to us that we had verylittle control over our lives. We were both being asked to do things regularlythat we found wrong or that made us physically or mentally unwell. We were bothbeing required to do work for which we were not being compensated. We werebeing forced into actions like crushingly long commutes that robbed us of ourlives outside of work. We could fight these indignities only at the risk oflosing our jobs during a recession, starting a domino effect of possibly losingour car and home, which would further jeopardize our ability to get a new job,and so the vicious cycle goes.

We decided this was not a life we wanted to live.

We’d followed the trajectory of correct adulthood: went tocollege and graduated tops of our respective classes, found professional jobs,moved into our own apartment, married each other, eventually bought a house. Werealized that the need to pay our bills forced us into a position where wecould be used however an employer wanted with little recourse because of fearof losing our home. So it seemed the first thing to do was to get rid of thebills.

The biggest was, of course, our mortgage. We lived inMaryland, currently the wealthiest state in the U.S. We lived in the hinterlands,not in the pricey Baltimore-DC corridor (which is why we had the longcommutes), but cost of living was still high. We decided our number-one goalneeded to be getting rid of our mortgage. You gain a lot of power when you havea home that cannot be taken away from you. Of course, no one tells you that youdon’t have to have a mortgage! The normal, correct adult life is depicted asthirty years working and thirty years paying back a bank for the roof over yourhead. Success is measured in the things you possess over those thirty years:nice cars, a house bigger than you need, regular upgrades to your wardrobe,fancy vacations, all the nicest and the latest things. It’s the “Youdeserve it!” culture that leads people to spend the better part of theirrent or mortgage on a watch or a handbag or tickets to a sporting event.Because if you put your earnings primarily toward securing a home for yourself,why would you work? And if you chose to keep working even if you didn’t need to,what power would an employer have to force you to do their bidding? I’mconvinced that these things are all connected.

So, to make a long story short, Mr. Felagund and I dedicatedourselves towards increasing our self-sufficiency so that we could walk awayfrom a job at any time without worrying about the consequences. We’ve sincemoved to Vermont, to a rural region where the cost of housing means that allthat we poured into our more costly home in Maryland means that we will nothave a mortgage. (Currently, we rent our house in Maryland to friends whoneeded a place to live on short notice right when we were moving last year, butwe will be putting it on the market in the next couple of weeks, and once itsells, our mortgage is gone.)

We’ve also dedicated ourselves to learning and practicing self-sufficiencyin other areas of our life to the extent that we can. Since we both workfull-time, we can never do all that we want to, but we’ve accumulated a lot ofskills over the last ten years so that we could live much moreself-sufficiently if we had to.

First, we learned how to produce our own food. We flew bythe seat of our pants in our first garden, but we made mistakes and learnedfrom them. When I left the job I mentioned above to freelance write for a yearwhile finishing my teaching certification, I wrote about sustainability and, inthe process, studied plant and soilscience. We began a concerted effort to improve our soil in Maryland. (We livedin the foothills of the Appalachians, so our soil was clay and rocky.) We bothtook classes at our local agricultural extension office and went to conferencesabout sustainable agriculture. We had less than an acre in Maryland, but webegan to use what little space we had for growing food. We put in fruit trees, asparagus,strawberries, perennial herbs, and brambles. By the time we moved, we were ableto grow much of our own food.

Mr. Felagund converted an old, disintegrating shed on ourproperty into a chicken coop, and we always kept around ten hens for eggs. (Wedidn’t raise meat birds in Maryland because we lived in a residentialneighborhood, and slaughtering chickens in our backyard would perhaps drawunwanted negative attention from our neighbors; we always did try to be goodneighbors with respect to our various little projects.) We also took amonth-long course in beekeeping and kept one or two colonies of honeybees.

Both of us learned to cook from scratch. We were both raisedwhere “cooking” was dumping in ramen and a flavor packet into boilingwater, or emptying a can of condensed soup and pouring in an equal amount ofmilk. We sometimes laugh over how, when we first got married, we wouldcelebrate special occasions by buying a frozen pizza and jazzing it up with allkinds of special toppings. But I think it’s important to recognize theimportance of small steps and not to feel the need to go overnight frommicrowave dinners to baking your own bread from scratch and pressure canningyour excess meat and beans. It took us years to go from the special pizza stageto being able to feed ourselves from stuff we grew or raised and a few staples.Mr. Felagund is the better cook, so he has learned how to make things like breadand preserve any extras we grow.

Now that we live in Vermont, we are hoping to expand our small-agoperations yet again. We have our first clutch of chicks growing up right now.They will provide us with eggs, and we are now able to raise meat birds withoutworrying about neighbors. We have three turkeys on the way in June. We hope toadd dairy goats or even a cow within the next couple of years so that we’llhave a source of milk and cheese. And Mr. Felagund has started fishing(although he hasn’t caught anything edible yet!) and wants to learn to hunt.We’re both hoping to study more deeply of wild foraging.

Next is independence in terms of energy and other resources.We already have well water and a septic system. We are hoping to soon invest insolar panels on our roof; we have a south-facing house that would be ideal. (Wecurrently use all renewable energy, but again, one of the goals is to reduceour bills as much as possible, even though the electricity bill in a house thissmall is negligible.) We heat our home primarily with wood pellets, which isgood in some ways compared to a regular woodstove (it’s far easier to use and much less messy!) but less than ideal asfar as self-sufficiency goes since this isn’t something we can produceourselves.

Also important to us is strengthening the self-sufficiencyof our community. It always amazes me that people don’t worry when most oftheir food is imported from places nowhere near where they live. What do theythink they will do if a natural or other disaster interrupted the constantdelivery of food from far-flung places?

In Maryland, we had relationships with a number of farmerswho raised and grew what we could not. We are building those relationships nowin Vermont. For example, we don’t tap our maple trees for syrup (yet!),but Mr.Felagund knows quite a few people who do, so he barters for maple syrup, whichwe can use as an all-purpose sweetener to limit the amount of (imported) sugarwe must buy. We’ve found sources for the animal products we can’t or areunwilling to raise. (Mr. Felagund is forbidden from owning a pig, for example,because he has a soft heart and would become attached.)

We want people inour community to be doing things that are useful to our community, and we want our money to go toward supportingour neighbors rather than a corporate office a thousand miles away. This is anargument Mr. Felagund and I have constantly with our Walmart-obsessed families:savings at the cash register often mask more costly losses to a community wherepeople cannot find good work that pays good wages. We are very fortunate inVermont; almost everything we need as far as food is produced by someone inVermont (often the Northeast Kingdom, where we live) or nearby (like Maine orsouthern Quebec), and even our supermarkets sell local products. Big box storeshaven’t taken over here, so we can buy other necessities from local businessesrather than relying on Target and Home Depot (and having our money flowconstantly out of our community as a result).

In general, we try to avoid buying things, especially disposable things. We’re not obsessive about it,but we use things like cloth napkins to avoid cluttering the landfill withpointless trash. We compost food scraps and much of our paper waste. We have developed a flavored seltzer habitsince moving to Vermont (and my husband can’t resist Vermont beer!) so we dohave a lot of recycling, but everyone’s allowed one sin, right? ^_^ We’ve alsoworked to unlearn the cultural mindset that success, happiness, andaffection/love are represented by material things. This is deeply ingrained andhard to unlearn. When we moved from our house in Maryland, we were both shockedby the amount of stuff we had accumulated over the years and had to give away.(We live in a single-wide trailer in Vermont which is roughly half the size asour house in Maryland, which had a basement, i.e., a clutter pit.) It wasembarrassing: stuff we’d bought and used maybe once or even never, that we’dwasted money on for no reason.

For us, self-sufficiency is more a process than adestination. It’s possible to go entirely off the grid, but really that’s notthe objective for us. Instead, we never again want our lives to be governed byan employer’s (or anyone else’s!) convenience or to feel we have to choosebetween doing the right thing and having a roof over our heads. We both teachhere and both adore our jobs–I love my school so much that I even love the wayit smells when I walk in every morning!–and I hope to have a long teachingcareer here. But were things to change–and under the current presidentialadministration, one has to worry about that in a public school–I like havingthe power to walk away rather than being forced to do something I completelydisagree with (e.g., teaching to standardized tests versus critical thinkingskills and global citizenship, or denying services to students withdisabilities, as our Secretary of Education would like to see done). So we’vededicated ourselves to doing as much as we can on our own, to always improvingand doing better in terms of our obligations to protect and care for the Earth, and most importantly, to learning skills that maybe we’re notalways using at a particular moment in time but could use if the need arose. Over the course of years, it’s justbecome life: weird or fascinating to some people but just our life as we’vegotten used to living it.

#dawn felagund #self sufficiency

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