#what am I supposed to do with that information now

[johnbrand]

Recycling

I watched as the next employee entered the chamber. He appeared a bit confused, probably having expected a conference room rather than the dark space with mirrored walls. By the look of it, he had no idea that any one of the panes were one-sided, hesitantly fidgeting with his tie as he announced his presence with a timid “Hello?”

I leaned into the microphone, “Good afternoon.” The nervous boy’s eyes dashed around the room, trying to identify the person speaking to him. His physical characteristics and mannerisms resembled a mouse, small and skittish.

“Am I supposed to be here?” he eventually replied, choosing the speaker above my viewpoint as his receptor.

“Yes, this is the meeting to discuss your annual review.” I replied. “You're in the right place, Mr. Donson. Would you like for me to refer to you by your given name?”

The boy shuffled anxiously, “Drayton is fine.”

Habitually, I continued. “I’m sure you're wondering why your annual review this year is different from those in the past. Don’t worry Drayton, you are still one of our top performers, and your review reflects your incredible performance.”

Feeling a delicate surge of confidence, Drayton let a smile sneak up onto his lips. Being clean shaven and still holding some baby fat, it frankly was quite endearing. Cute even.

“As you are already aware, our company has been having some financial issues recently. And as a high-ranking official in our accounting department, I am sure that you are more than knowledgeable on the details of this subject.”

Drayton’s youthful glee faltered for a moment.

“Unfortunately, we do not have the funds available to keep you on board and give you a raise,” I started. “The company would like to offer you a deal: in exchange for accepting a substandard review and a 19% decrease in pay, we will offer you external benefits.”

Shock emerged from Drayton’s face, “What benefits would be worth a fifth of my paycheck?”

“Unfortunately I am liable to disclose that information,” I robotically replied. “You can either accept or tender a resignation.” 

Drayton took a moment to decide, just like all the other employees typically did. But eventually, they all convinced themselves that losing employment at the company was the worse of the two options.

“I’ll accept.”

“Stand by.” I followed procedure, locking the exits and airways into the chamber. Once that was done, I began flipping the switches. Steam mechanisms, followed by audio machines, followed by visual projectors. I did not even pay attention to the squabbling accountant, panicking as his chamber was bombarded with smoke, abrasive phonics, and commands that flashed against the walls and reflected into every corner of the room. 

Thanks to the padding in my control room, I absorbed none of it. I simply ignored Drayton’s screams and opened my laptop, getting back to my own duties as the process did its work. With all the vapors, I typically could not witness any of the changes that happened anyway–which also meant I could never attest to possible allegations if our company did ever come under some sort of legal fire in the future. But sometimes I did spot little things, flashes of commands that were being ingrained into the employee. MASCULINE, TRADITIONAL, ATTENTIVE. The small letters would pulse by an instant, although they were meaningless to me within my enclosed accommodations.

Eventually, my timer went off, and I closed out of the procedure. I exited the program and flipped the switches back over, shutting off all stimulatory mechanisms. It took a moment for the smoke to clear, presenting me with a new version of the employee. More muscular, more masculine, and more virile.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Donovan?”

"It’s Donson, boss." The man stood tall, stoic. His voice now held much more depth and presence.

"It’s Donovan, Drake Donovan,” I affirmed. “That's what's in our system."

I watched the man process this, the command’s installation literally visible behind his now less-intelligent eyes. 

“I see you were able to find part of your new uniform already.” I was referring to the briefs and sweatshorts that were covering the lower half of Drake’s much larger body. The remnants of the former business casual outfit were scattered across his large feet. “The closet behind you will contain the rest of your attire. Company fitness uniforms and approved footwear that will better fit your size and new position.”

“New position?” Drake inquired, his question curious rather than interrogative.

“The company has decided to reassign you as a security liaison, seeing as that will be a better fit for your paygrade.” I typed away at my reviewal report, adding in details of Drake’s benefits package. Increase in height, dramatic increase in musculature, increase in hair, increase in virility…

To save money, the company liked to recycle its employees. We would bring in fresh graduates to run our corporate operations, and then once they hit their pay ceiling, recycled them into more manual, less intellectually-driven roles. Naturally, no one ever filed any complaints about this procedure as no one realized it existed. And even if they did, they would no longer have the brains capable to file such a complaint.

“Sounds good, boss,” Drake replied, even though I had already known what his answer was going to be. With his dominating size and brutish stature, Drake had been remodeled into the standard male form that we needed for our team. And with this mind simplified to only focusing on traditional objectives (upholding masculinity, working out, fulfilling his role), Drake was now bound to solely focus on the company’s objectives. Thanks to the recycling process, our company would keep the profits high and the employee turnover low. And now, Drake would remain entertained without the extra money by merely following orders and enjoying the simpler things in life, like flexing his muscles.

[oristian]

So how come we can tell that Elain wants azriel and is attracted to azriel but Eluciens claim they need Elain's POV to confirm she doesn't want Lucien??

Idk it's almost like thoughts and acts and verbal things she has said matter?? It's almost like... we don't need everyone and their mother's POV to tell very basic information??

Y'all acting like she is a complete black box just because we don't have her POV yet 😭😭

What if I said "oh we need Lucien's POV to tell he actual feels a bond and didn't orchestrate a fake mating bond to claim an Archeron sister after she got made?"

"But he wouldn't do that"

How am I supposed to know he wouldn't!! We don't have his POV either 🤪 he could be Koschei for all we know 🤷🏻‍♀️

And nobody better fucking bring up Feyre hating Rhys or Nesta kicking Cassian in the balls. Their words differed from their actions. They might've SAID they hated their love interests at the time, but their ACTIONS differed. Anyone who genuinely thought Feyre hated Rhys or Nesta hated Cassian is literally just lying atp because come on what do you mean you didn't pick up on that?? Nesta was willing to die for Cassian and Feyre was literally thinking Rhys was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Be so fr.

Elain's actions match her words. We don't need her POV to know that.

Good morning! This might be a long response, so hope you enjoy!

Elain Archeron is a book character. Books follow standards enacted by the stricture of narratives, and how stories are told overall—in short, the reader is being told something through a book. A story is told through settings, dialogue, characters, et cetera. While the reader may be able to create their own theories, pick up on literary devices, and generate predispositions, until the reader is fully informed by the intent of the author on page, it is speculation.

When people claim that we need Elain’s POV to understand how she is feeling towards Lucien, that is very much true. There is a plethora of reasons as to why she shifted her composure around him between ACOWAR and ACOSF. From asking if he is alright and inviting him to Velaris, to shrinking around him? Until we are in her inner monologue and seeing what she is seeing, the reader can only speculate. Is she now very horny for him, is the mating bond chafing when he’s around, did she have a vision of their future, is she wildly attracted to him, et cetera? The same way that people claim she is in love with Azriel is the same way we claim we need her POV—neither is true until Elain confirms it herself with her own thoughts, feelings, and words.

Now, I want to bring up “thoughts, actions and verbal things,” because, more often than not, it is misconstrued. The only instance where the reader might be swayed to believe that Elain feels anything for Azriel is the almost kiss in the bonus chapter. However, we only had Azriel’s POV. Compared to Wings and Embers bonus chapter with Nessian, the reader was lacking the female’s POV. With Nesta and Cassian, we read that both were feeling the pull towards each other in that chapter. In ACOSF, we were limited to just Azriel—why is that? As for the other lines of dialogue that are seemingly connected to Elriel, those are regarding Graysen. “I don’t want a male,” would also be applied to Azriel, no? “And that love would trump even a mating bond,” is about Graysen.

I have been asked before how I can confidently ship Elucien when Elain seemingly lost her “newfound boldness,” and, “shrunk in on herself,” when Lucien came during Solstice. While I do understand how some people can read that as a negative for the ship, I once again have to say that we do not know why either of those actions happened. There has been zero indication that Lucien is forcing himself on her, is bad for her, and/or is disrespecting her wishes, so why has Elain suddenly started acting like this? This is why we claim that we need her POV for all of these unanswered questions.

Essentially, Elain is a blank sheet of paper. Could she stay this newfound meek personality and live all her days in a small cottage with a garden, or will she revert back into her old personality and become the socialite that she once was? While the reader can understand some of her character, she is still more shifted towards the background and is lacking the substance that a fleshed out POV and aligned character development would offer to her. This is one of the reasons why so many people seemingly dislike her character, because she has not been able to explain her actions. This was similar to Nesta.

The example you brought up with Lucien and the bond needing clarification actually was solved very quickly in ACOMAF. When Feyre unleashed Helion’s spellcleaving magic and broke the bonds in Hybern, she would have broken any fake mating bond tied to Elain and Lucien. Feyre has also been inside of Lucien’s head while he was experiencing the tug of mating instincts. Elain has felt the tug of the bond and Lucien was able to experience her from the inside due to the bond. They both have experienced mating behavior towards each other. The reader has had a snippet of Lucien’s POV.

Feyre, Nesta and Elain are all similar in how they were reluctant to accept the bond at first—the only difference is that Elain is fully aware of the bond before she accepts it. Feyre and Nesta were stuffed into forced close proximity with both of their mates, which also differs from Elain, and her sisters also had access to their mates before they turned fae. Elain met Lucien the night she turned fae and had very little alone time with him. Feyre and Nesta both experienced firsthand the chaffing of the bond while being so close to their mates for so long, but Elain has not. Elain was in love and engaged to Graysen and was now suddenly tossed a fae male as her mate, while simultaneously losing her humanity? It is only reasonable that she would not be jumping for joy over this new revelation.

SJM is an author that uses similar patterns across her entire body of work. To say that we cannot compare how she wrote Feysand and Nessian to Elucien in the same series makes no sense to me. Now, I do believe that you have contradicted yourself in your paragraph regarding Feyre and Nesta. I agree, while they may have claimed that they wanted nothing to do with their mates, their actions showed the reader otherwise. Elain is similar with Lucien, however, she has not once said that she hated him, wanted him gone, wanted to reject the bond, et cetera. Anything she has said against wanting a fae male was because she wanted Graysen and to return to her mortal life. Her actions towards Lucien have included worriment for his safety, relief that he is alright, inviting him to Velaris, keeping all of his Solstice gifts, the half step, et cetera. Someone who planned on rejecting the bond with their mate would not have done any of the above.

If the reader does not need Elain’s POV, why would she need an entire book? If her thoughts, feelings, and actions are fully explained from another’s POV, why would she need to explain herself in her own inner monologue? She already has hobbies, friends, a lover, a home, joy, purpose, and family—what would be the point of her having a book?

I so hope I managed to answer your question. Have a good day!

[dragoncopper]

The Apparition - Continued.

A/N: Please read The Apparition first, if you haven’t already, or this won’t really make sense. 

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x female Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5475

Warnings: Major character death, crying, sadness, suicide, smut, fluff

Link to The Apparition

Read the whole thing on A03 here.

 You

The diagnosis was unexpected. 

You sat in the doctor’s office while she was telling you about it, and you felt shaky and like your breath was not reaching your lungs and that you were kind of floating near your body, but not inhabiting it.  You heard what she was saying, and yet it was not sinking in.

You felt nervous and afraid.  You did not know how you were supposed to feel.  How you were supposed to process the information?  How were you going to explain it to him?

Driving back home you took it slow, no music.  You needed the silence to be able to not feel overwhelmed and overstimulated.  You dreaded seeing his face now.  His reaction scared you more than any of the realities of the situation ever could.  You wanted to protect him from this more than you wanted to save yourself. 

You were sitting on the couch staring off into the distance for a while, you don’t really know how long, before you felt him appear.  He smiled at you and came closer and soon he realised that you were not yourself and he sat down next to you.  You felt the familiar dip next to you. 

‘What happened?’ he asked his voice immediately worried.

You were quiet trying to decide which words to use.  He placed his large hand on your lower back in a gesture of comfort and you felt the heat of it through your shirt. 

‘I am… I have cancer,’ you say, your voice flat, but you needed it all out as quickly as possible.  ‘It already started spreading.  I…,’

‘You just had some neck pain,’ he whispers after being quiet for very long. 

‘Yeah,’ you nod.  ‘It’s in my spine.’

‘How,’ he started a sentence he did not know how to finish.  ‘It doesn’t….’

‘I’m sorry,’ you say to him. 

‘What?  Why are you sorry?’  he asked with the deepest frown on his face.

‘I know this is going to hurt you more than it’s going to hurt me,’ you say.  Looking in his eyes the emotion hits you finally. 

He shakes his head and leans in to you and holds you.  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ he whispers.  ‘What do we do?  How do we fix this?’

‘There’s not much to be done.  It has already spread all over,’ you reply into his shoulder.

‘But surely, they gave you some advice?  Some options?’

‘I can try chemotherapy.  It can slow the spread.  Maybe give me more time, but by the sounds of things there is no fixing this anymore,’ you explain.

‘But you didn’t have symptoms,’ he is trying to make sense.  ‘How, I don’t understand.’

‘I don’t either, Noah.  I am so sorry.’

‘Stop apologizing,’ he says.  He holds you quietly.  After a while you feel his breathing start to pick up and you feel it begin to shake, and hitch.  You hold him back tighter and for the first time since you have gotten the news, you feel the tears prick at your own eyes. 

‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ you say your voice small.

‘Baby,’ his voice cracking.  ‘I don’t want you to hurt.’

 Noah

It took me some time to convince her to do the chemotherapy.  She didn’t want to, arguing that it was pointless.  I argued that it gave her some more time.  Gave her more opportunities to do things and live.  I am sure that she is doing it purely for me.  But I feel we have to try. 

So, we are in the car where Nick is driving her to the hospital.

We moved a few years ago.  She made the amazing and selfless decision to move closer to Nick for my sake.  That way I could have my two people near me.  The move felt like a new beginning for us, we picked a new flat together and moved in and I had an input, and for a while we could both imagine that we were just a normal couple moving in together.

While our lives have so many strange things about it, we were so normal and everyday that I often forgot the fact that I was dead.  She loved me so fully and completely despite the fact that I couldn’t be real for her.  We were happy and delusional and had started to live in our own little world where everything was what we wanted.  This news cracked open that illusion.  Reality caught up with us.

‘You say you have snacks and something to drink?’ Nick asked ad he pulled into the parking area of the hospital.

‘Yes, Noah packed me a whole little goody bag,’ she answered him.

‘I will be here to pick you up,’ he says with small, reassuring smile.  ‘You sure you don’t want me to come?’

‘Noah is with me,’ she says.  That’s all the explanation she needed to give. 

‘I got it,’ I say to Nick.  ‘Thank you, brother.’

‘Good luck,’ Nick said somberly.

She grips my hand to the point of pain as we walk inside.  They take her to a chair with so much shit set up around it.  I stand back and watch as they connect her to all the medical equipment.  Then they slide the thick needle into her arm where the chemicals that is supposed to help her live longer will enter her body.  She doesn’t flinch.  She watches as it slides into her skin and they place a bandage over to keep it in place.  The people at the hospital were being so nice and sweet and told her to not hesitate to call them if she needed anything.  But my sweet girl seemed numb, she nodded along but her eyes were empty.  That upset me so deeply. 

When we are alone, I approach and cup her cheek.  ‘You okay?’ I whisper.

She nods.  ‘I think so,’ she gives me a small smile.  It’s barely there. 

We have to be discreet.  She cannot have a full-blown conversation with a ghost in the hospital.  So, she has a book to keep her entertained.  I sit down in front of her on the floor, she hooks one leg over my shoulder and I roll up her pant leg, and I start massaging her calf and ankles and feet.  She touches my hair every now and then, hugs me with her leg by squeezing me closer to her.  Later we swop her legs. She falls asleep at some point. 

Six hours later, Nick is waiting, smoking a cigarette by his car.  He seemed anxious.  Relief flooded his face when he sees us.  She seemed okay at this time, but I know we are in for a rough night. 

‘How was it?’  Nick asked.

‘It was great,’ she answered sarcastically. 

‘Sorry, that was a stupid question,’ he scrunches his face. 

‘No, I’m sorry.   It was okay.  It’s just really long, that was the most annoying bit,’ she slips into the car and leans back into the seat. 

Nick squeezed my shoulder.  ‘And you?’

I nod in determination.  ‘She took it like a champ.’

‘How did you take it?’  he asked.

‘It broke my heart,’ I admit quietly.

 You

‘Hey, Noah,’ you call to him.

‘Baby?’ he answers.

‘I need your help please,’ you approach him and he looks at you warily.  You take out the clippers from behind your back.  ‘It’s time.’

You can see the moment he realizes and you see the pain in his eyes.   He gets up without a word and walks closer to you and takes the clippers from your hand and then kisses you solidly on the lips.  ‘It’s not that bad yet,’ he says softly.

‘No, but a few clumps came loose in the shower and I just cannot handle it.  I need it to be over with,’ you explain.

‘Okay,’ he nods and takes your hand and he starts for the bathroom. 

‘No, can you do it in the kitchen?  I don’t want to see it in the mirror,’ you say and you feel shy about admitting that.

‘Whatever you want,’ he smiles.  When you’re in the kitchen he drags a chair closer.  You sit down and take a deep breath.  ‘You have a hair tie?’ 

‘Yeah,’ you dig the one you had out of your pocket.  ‘Why?’

‘So can keep the hair I cut together,’ he says and he gently and with so much care gathers your hair together and ties it at the back of your head. 

‘I thought I would feel sadder about this,’ you admit something to him again.

‘It’s just hair,’ he says simply.  ‘You ready?’

‘Mmm,’ and you feel him cut the hair with a scissor, you feel the weight of the hair disappear.  It takes him a moment before he holds the ponytail out to you.  You take it and hold it, run your fingers through it.  He leans over your shoulder and kisses your neck affectionately. 

‘Let me know when I should continue,’ he whispers. 

‘Now, please.’  You say, beginning to feel very anxious.  ‘Let’s get it over with.’

You hear the harsh sound of the clippers being turned on and then he starts running it over your head.  Whisps of hair fall down your back, over your shoulders, past your face and you hold your breath to not get any of it in your mouth.  It also helps to keep the tears back.  He takes his time; you feel him go over some spots to make sure its even.  When he switches the clippers off, the silence is deafening.

He runs his hand over your scalp.  ‘All done,’ he says. 

‘How does it look?’ you ask, brushing across your body to get the hair off you. 

‘It looks like you,’ you hear his voice is thick.  Both of you keep quiet for a moment, both trying to keep composure for the other one.  You busy yourselves with gathering the hair on the floor together and picking it up, using a dustpan to get the finer hairs.  When it’s all clean, he grabs your hand and pulls you to him and he wraps his arms around you.  With your face buried in his chest, you feel safe and like it will all be okay.  His tall frame is concave so he can hold you with as much of his body as he can.

‘Let’s go look,’ you say after a while and you drag him to the bathroom.  Even though you knew what you were going to see it shocks you.  ‘Jesus,’ you say immediately touching where your hair used to be. 

He is behind you nervously. 

‘I don’t hate it,’ you say after a while with a smile.  ‘It looks bad ass.’

He smiles with relief.  ‘It does,’ he agrees.  He steps closer and also touches your head.  ‘You are the most beautiful human,’ he kisses your bald head a few times and then buries his face in your neck.  You feel the wetness of his kisses and tears and pretend not to notice. 

You turn in his embrace and kiss his amazing lips.  God you will miss these lips.  You make the first move and slide your hands under his shirt and lift it up until he lets go for a moment to lift his arms so you can pull the shirt off.  You press yourself against his bare chest, immediately back to kissing him again.  He leads the way to the bed without losing contact with each other.

He lays you down and starts by climbing over you.  He kisses your stomach where the sliver of skin shows and moves your shirt up with his nose and he kisses every inch he can find.  He slides the shirt off with practiced ease and then kisses your chest, between your breasts and removes the bra you had on.  He lavishes attention on you with kisses and gentle bites. 

You grab his head and bring his mouth to yours and then you change your positions, so that he is on his back.  You undo his button, move the zipper down and then shimmy his trousers and boxers down at the same time.  All the way down, you nearly fall off the bed to get his long legs free.  He laughs for a moment.  ‘Do you want me to take your socks off?’ you ask.

‘No, it’s okay.  The pants were almost too much,’ he jokes.

You huff a laugh, ‘It’s not my fault your legs are that long.  Scoot up, please.  You are too tall.’

He moves up against the pillows, and lays diagonally across the bed.  This was really the only way his frame fits on the bed.  You have even taken to sleeping next to the each other stretched diagonally across the bed.  You settle down between his legs that he spreads for you. 

He was already halfway to being hard.  Before you touch him at all, you just look for a moment.  You have been feeling the strong need to memorize some things.  You find yourself staring at all kinds of things about life thinking that you must file it away.  But mostly it happened with Noah, who was worth remembering the most.  Every single inch of his being was being recorded in your mind.  His cock was slowly standing up, his balls contracting every now and again.  He was pale just like the rest of his body, his head slightly darker.  When he flexes again, you wrap your hand around him at the base where your hand almost rests on his balls.  You hear him let out a sigh.  You lick at his frenulum and he immediately bucks his hips. 

‘Sorry,’ he breathes out.  ‘I’ll keep still.’

‘It’s okay, baby.’  You lick again, pushing your tongue against him, before taking the head into your mouth.  You stay there for a while, until he was fully hard in your hand.  You start to take more of him in your mouth.  You go slow, going slightly lower. 

‘Oh fuck,’ he breathes repeatedly.  ‘Baby.’  He is struggling to keep his hips down on the bed and it gives you a thrill to see the impact you can have on him.  Even now.

‘Keep still for me, for a moment,’ you say, looking him in the eye.  He nods.  You sink down on him as far as you can go.

‘Fffffff, I…….  B…baby.’

You smile.  You love it when he couldn’t get a word out.  You keep at him, following the thick veins with your tongue, paying a lot of attention to his glans.  You lose yourself in your task.  You memorize the weight of him on your tongue, the slightly salty taste of his skin.  How his skin is so impossibly soft.  How he reacts to your actions.  How you feel his balls clench every now and then. 

Before Noah, you never understood why women would willingly do this.  Now you felt privileged to get to taste him and see him be so vulnerable with you. 

Eventually he stops you, and sits up to kiss you.  Your jaw hurts a little, but you kiss him back.  ‘Goddammit, I love you,’ he says into your mouth.  ‘Please take off your pants.’

You lay back to wrestle your pants off, he grabs the ends by your ankles and yanks.  ‘Lay back, like you were,’ you tell him.  He complies quickly and without argument.

You straddle his hips, and he moves the pillows so he is sitting up.  With you in his lap, you were closer to a similar height.  Your faces close to each other’s.  He grabs himself and guides himself to your entrance and then you lower yourself onto him.  ‘I love you,’ you breathe out.  You take it slow and just grind into his hips.  His hands moving all over your body, even lovingly over your head.  You breathe each other’s breath, skin to skin, whispering words of love into the other’s mouth, throat, ear.

After you both come, you fall forward onto him and he holds you.  He pulls the blankets over you both and you lay there like this is where you want to be for eternity – him still inside.  ‘I will always love you,’ you try to explain to him what has been battling through your mind.  ‘Nothing is going to stop me.’

He hugs you tighter.  ‘Death has already tried, my love.  It has no power over us.’ 

Noah

Nick drops us off after the final chemo session with bags of food and drinks and I hug the man before he leaves.  ‘I cannot thank you enough,’ I say gripping onto his jacket.

‘My guy,’ he says.  ‘I wish I could have done more.  I am so sorry for you both.’

‘You have done so much for us,’ I say pulling back.

‘Let me know if you need anything else,’ he smiles sadly.

Inside, she is eating food straight from the container.  I leave her, and go the bathroom, where I unroll the old sponge mattress and put a sheet over it, bring blankets and pillows.  I make sure there’s tissue, ice water a washcloth.  Then I join her for dinner and I have nice time.  She is making jokes and smiling at me. 

We shower together, we wash each other’s backs and I can tell she is trying to enjoy feeling human before the side effects hit. 

We sleep together on the tiny mattress, I keep holding her because she is cold.  She is always cold after.   We fall asleep peacefully.  But soon, I am woken by her ripping herself from my arms and she leans over the toilet on her knees and she throws up all her dinner.  It comes in waves, I kneel behind her and rub her back, keeping my body close to hers for heat.  She starts sweating, but her skin is ice cold.  I feel all the muscles in her back contract as she keeps vomiting.  She is shivering.  Eventually she sits back and I wipe her mouth with the wash cloth.  She blows her nose and takes a few sips of water.  I open my arms and she climbs into me as close as she can get.  I lay us down and cover her with the blankets. 

‘I am not doing it again,’ she says.  I thought she had fallen asleep.  I keep quiet.  I know what she is saying.  I suspected this was coming.  ‘I’m sorry, but I just can’t.’

‘It’s okay, love.’ I rub my hand along her arm to warm her up.  ‘I understand.’

‘I would rather just enjoy what I have left,’ she whispers.

I start crying, but I try to hide it from her.  But she knows.  She grabs my hand, and weave our fingers together.  ‘I’m sorry, Noah.’

‘Don’t be,’ I sob. 

‘You know,’ she sighs.  ‘The part that scares me?  I don’t want to leave you.  I am not scared of anything else.  Everything else is nothing.  I am terrified of not being with you.’

This makes me cry even harder.  I am shaking by the time I get a reply out.  ‘I am scared of a lot of things.’

‘Like what?’

‘This.  Watching you suffer is tearing me apart.  I am scared of you being in pain.  But, yeah.  I don’t know what will happen when…’  I cannot say it. 

‘When I die,’ she finishes for me.

I nod. 

‘Well, if my soul lives on,’ she says.  ‘What if I don’t remember you?  You know how you couldn’t remember anything.’

My heart clenches in pain.  ‘I will remember for us.  I will remind you of everything you need to know.’

‘I am trying to commit things to my memory.  Trying to burn it into my being, so that I will remember.’

‘Things like what?’  I ask, curious.

‘Mostly you,’ she answers.  ‘Running my fingers through your hair, how soft your lips are.  How cold your feet are in bed.  How your hand makes mine look ridiculously small when our fingers are together like this.  Your kindness, and your laugh and how utterly loved and safe I feel in your arms.’

I ugly cry into the skin of her bald head and squeeze our fingers together and pull her body even closer to mine.  I feel her start to hiccup too.  She reaches back with her free hand and cups my head.  ‘I will find you, love.  I found you once, I can find you again.  Just look out for me, I’ll be there.’

When we calm down, we make up scenarios of what our souls will do together.  She is exhausted, but she keeps going.  We fall asleep with wishes hanging on our tongues.

You

After all the bad side effects of the chemo were gone, I started feeling normal again.  My hair was growing back out, I gained a little of the weight I had lost to all the vomiting back and my body felt like mine gain.  It was a dangerous thing.  I could so easily fool myself that everything was fine.

I decided to fill my days with as many good things as possible.  Which meant spending time with Noah.  For months we made a point to just do all the things we wanted.

We have game nights with Nick, where we would play video games or board games, order loads of food, listen to music and waste hours and hours laughing and having fun.  It was so good to see the two friends together.  To see the friendship they had after all the years.  To see a different side of Noah when the two of them were heated in their discussions or arguments about game rules.  I memorized the carefree way he plays.  The freedom is his reactions.

You go on road trips together often.  You pick famous places you’ve never been and also pick obscure spots to go see if there’s anything worth seeing.  Noah always packs bags of travel accessories, he has gotten very good at it.  He remembers all your medicine, your favorite sweets, drinks, tissues and extra jackets for when it gets cold.  He knows how you will react better than you do yourself.  He knows what you will need.  While driving, you guys play the same games you started on the trip to see Nick for the first time.  You hold hands while walking around.  You cuddle and watch countless sunsets from the hood of the car.  Each trip was immeasurably special – not because of where you went, but because of the opportunities you had to burn memories into your soul. 

You spend hours cooking together in the kitchen, picking things you have both wanted to try.  This does not always end in success.  But it does end with dances in the kitchen, or kisses in the kitchen, laughing in the kitchen.  It ends with meals enjoyed together, feeding each other, cleaning up together.  Memories.

Lazy days laying about, reading books or watching movies – as long as the two of you were tangled up in some way, it didn’t really matter.  During this time, you learned by accident that he gets full body chills when you play with his ears.  You realised he falls asleep within minutes if you run your fingers through his hair.  You craved the feeling of his weight on you – his head resting on your stomach, his legs thrown over yours, his whole body on you with his lips against your neck.  You paid attention to all the details.

You and Noah had a lot of sex.  You both always took your time with it, savoring every moment you had to bring each other comfort and pleasure.  Even when you were being rough and harsh there was so much love.  It was a way to show each other the anger, disappointment, heartbreak that you both felt.  And at the same time, it was a chance to be close and pour affection and love into the other one.  Each time had a lot of ‘I love you’s whispered.  Each time had a rush of overwhelming emotion that caused at least one of you to cry.   

When you start to realise that the medicine was not really taking away your pain anymore, you knew it was time to have a conversation with Noah.

While you were in bed, his head resting on your shoulder while your fingers ran up and down his bare back, you take a deep breath before you begin.  ‘Noah?’

‘Mmmm,’ his face squished against you. 

‘I think the time is getting near,’ you say.

‘What time?’ he mumbles.

‘My time.  I don’t think we have very long left,’ you keep your voice low, like it would soften the words.

He lifts his head and looks at you with sadness.  ‘Why?’

‘The pain is getting worse,’ you say with a grimace.  ‘But, the reason I bring it up is because I have a terrible thing to ask of you.’

He closes his eyes.  Like he knows.  Maybe he does.  He knows you better than you know yourself.  This hurts your heart so much. 

‘I don’t want to suffer through it, baby,’ your voice cracks. 

He nods against you.  ‘I don’t want you to either, love.’  You run your finger over the frown on his forehead, wanting to smooth out his worry.

‘Will you help me?’ you ask.  ‘When it’s time?’

He shakes his head with small movement.  ‘I don’t want to,’ his face crumples in pain.  ‘I want to do anything you need, but how am I supposed to do that to you?’

‘I hate that I am even asking,’ you sniff.  ‘I will do it myself.  But I need you there.  I need your face to be the last thing I see.  I want you in my brain when it dies.’

Tears stream down both your faces.  It has been happening so often lately and yet it still broke you to see his nose turn red, his lashes clumped together.  He was still so fucking beautiful.  After a while of contemplation, he says, ‘Alright.’

Noah

Today was the day. 

When it started getting bad, it went downhill very quickly.  Her pain became worse, she had no energy, no appetite.  The life was draining out of her before my very eyes and it was infuriating.  I had rage in me that it had to be like this.  She deserved so much better. 

While I understand her decision completely, it didn’t make it easy for me.  The emotions warring inside me made me nauseous all the time.  But I wanted her to get what she wants. 

I made her her favorite breakfast that she nibbled on a little.  We spoke at length about out favorite memories of our time together.  We tried to make love, but I couldn’t get hard, so I made her come with my tongue and fingers instead.  We cried a lot.  She fell asleep on my chest, even though she said she wouldn’t, she didn’t want to waste any time with me.  But she was tired.  She was tired in more than one way. 

I had to get into contact with Nick to hook me up, because we didn’t know the area like he did.  He asked friends, that asked friends and eventually we got a lethal dose of prescription pain medication that we would use tonight.  She made sure that it was more than enough. 

So that evening, I crushed up the pills in the kitchen, while she was hugging me from behind.  I placed the powder in a glass and filled another one with water.  I placed it on our bedside table.  After a hot bath and a cup of tea she dressed in her most comfortable pajamas and we sat together on the bed. 

‘What will happen to you?’ she asks, leaning into me, her head on my shoulder. 

‘I really don’t know,’ I answer back.

‘What if you are not okay?’ she sobs. 

‘Don’t worry about me,’ I counter. 

‘I only worry about you,’ she cries.  ‘I’ll stay longer if it means you will be okay.’

‘It won’t, love,’ I put my arm around her and hug her into my side. 

‘Here’s what I think you should do,’ she says through the tears.  ‘If you can’t find me, I think you should go to Nick.  You two will take care of each other.’

I laughed.  ‘I did think of that.’

‘I am so sorry,’ she starts.

‘No,’ I stop her. 

‘I am sorry for so many things,’ she carries on.

‘Please, don’t be sorry for one single thing.  Please don’t think that even one single minute with you was not the best moments of my existence.’

‘You can’t remember your whole existence,’ she counters. 

‘I know.  But I know,’ I sigh.

‘You were definitely the best part of mine.  I can never express how much I have loved you since I have known you.  I owe my soul to you.’

I try to find words, but they won’t come to me.  There isn’t really anything I can say to her that I haven’t said already.  ‘You are my soul.’

She calls Nick to tell him she is about to do it.  He is supposed to notify authorities.  They have a brief conversation.  And then I thank him and tell him I love him.

She pours the powder into her mouth, makes a face at the bitterness and then swallows it down with a few gulps of water. 

She kisses me quickly.  ‘I love you.’  Then she lays down and cuddles into me and I hold onto her for all I am worth. 

I grip her while I cry and cry and hope to whatever god is listening that she will feel no pain.  That she will be okay wherever she will go.  I pray that I will find her again.  I feel her breathing stop after a while, her grip on my shirt goes slack, but I keep holding on.  The warmth of her body lingers and it comforts me, until I start to fade away.  I can feel myself slip.  Her peaceful face is the last thing I see before I, too, am gone.

 You

The fog around you is thick to the point where you find it difficult to tell what time of day it is.  Through the wisps of white you see tall trees all around you.  The temperature around you is comfortable, even though it seems like it should be cold, it isn’t. 

You have no idea why you are here or where you are going, and the fact that you cannot remember does not upset you.  You walk slowly through the trees and the almost complete silence until you see a path.  You follow the path as it winds between the trees and the further you go, the fog seems to lift little by little.  Then a warm light becomes visible and as you get closer you see a cabin.  Warm, yellow light glows from the windows, smoke curls out of a chimney, it is calling you closer.

Then when you have almost reached it, the door opens and a tall man steps outside.  Your heart beats faster at the sight of him.  He is wearing all white, beautiful tattoos showing on his skin, his dark hair frames his face.  He smiles at you.  Like he knows you. 

He takes light steps down to you.  ‘Hi,’ he beams. 

‘Hi,’ you say, unsure of what was happening.

‘Are you lost?’ he asks you.

‘No,’ you say.  ‘I don’t really know.’

‘It’s alright,’ he says.  ‘I can help you if you need it.’

You look into those eyes that are so dark they are almost black and you know that he is safe.  He feels familiar.  ‘Do I know you?’

‘Come inside for some tea?’ he says reaching out his hand.  You take it without a thought and your fingers twine like you have done it a thousand times before.  ‘I have a lot to tell you.’

Inside is warmth and comfort and home.  You sit near the fireplace and he hands you a cup and you drink it.  It is just like you like it.  ‘Who are you?’

‘More importantly, who are you?’ he counters.

You frown, not knowing the answer.  ‘Do you know me?’

He nods.

A/N: This part was never supposed to happen, but a comment from someone on A03 put my mind to work.  I’m sorry that this part was also sad, but in my mind, there was no other way to do this.  Thank you to everyone who took actual time out of their day to read my story. 

[xhxhxhx]

I am not particularly fit for this kind of work. Reading and writing, I mean.

I am not a practiced reader. I never learned to do the things you're supposed to do with books and papers.

I never learned note-taking. Never learned outlining. Never outlined. Never underlined. Never highlighted. Never earmarked. Never made cards and never read from them.

At some point, the amount of information I was meant to digest and recall was simply beyond me. Never learned.

I've carried those vices with me. I have no books marked with my own written notes or highlights. I have no outlines. There's only the printed page with someone else's text.

I still have trouble publishing anything but the first draft.

I have tried something different. I now have something like a vast index, alphabetically arranged, of cases and laws and names, proper and common, with references to the relevant material.

But no notes. I have given pointers and pin points, but no summaries or comments. In the index, my editorial intervention ends with the headings and cross-references. Even that makes me uneasy.

If I haven't learned to take notes, it's not for lack of trying. There are false starts here and there, if not on paper.

The trouble is that I have trouble getting anything out of my notes when I read them. They're verbose. They're wrong. They're inexact. They leave things out.

You can imagine a tradeoff between speed and depth, with less extensive notes summarizing the text and more extensive ones explaining it. But my notes couldn't do either.

I have trouble summarizing or explaining things to myself, to my future self. When I took notes, I left out what I understood too well or not at all. When I read them later, I found them incomplete.

I couldn't learn from my own notes, or recall from them. I couldn't trust them. I couldn't trust my past self to know what I now needed. No matter how much I read and revised, I couldn't get them right.

In the tradeoff between speed and depth, my notes were completely interior to the frontier defined by the original text. To the extent that I have notes now, they're pointers to those texts. Indexes.

That's what I have. Indexes. But indexes aren't notes, and they're poor substitutes for them.

To write, you have to take something from what you've read. That's what notes, I understand, are for: You take notes to preserve your reading for your future self. But not your self as reader, but as writer. They're there for your readers.

Your notes summarize and explain your reading, as you would explain your reading to others. Then you simply carry them forward. "Here," you tell your readers, "I have summarized it for you." Then you write out your notes again, tidied up a little.

I didn't understand any of this until recently. I had never needed to take notes for others before. When people asked for my lecture notes, I gave them what I had taken in class: verbatim transcripts of what the speaker had said. Those were the only ones I had.

I still don't really understand it. But I'm coming to realize how much extensive writing depends on it, or something like it.

To write, you have to take something from what you've read. It's easy to do that from notes. You don't have to read anything and you barely have to write anything. You just copy them down.

But to do it from an index, you have to do it all from scratch. Read again, then summarize and explain, as if for the first time. Because it is. It's the first time you're explaining it for someone besides yourself.

I still haven't learned how to take notes. But I suppose that's what I'm doing here. Trying to explain things, as if for the first time, to someone besides myself.

[dorkydegeneracy]

Just now seeing Ryan's birthday video from the cast. It has opened up a lore wormhole for me so bear with me while I overanalyze the shit out of a 31 second video.

It starts off with the illustrious Jennifer Love Hewitt saying that she's passing the phone to someone with "a really cute lip skirt." Cool, we are talking about Ryan and we cue to him combing his lip skirt.

Next, Bryan passes the phone to someone who is "easily the best dancer on the show." No need to explain that one. DUH!

After Ryan strutting his stuff it passes to my BFF Aisha Hinds, who is passing the phone to "the donut dealer."

This is new information. The video doesn't really match up with the assertion but I am just going to assume that Ryan is the certified donut runner for the cast and crew. Cute! Who doesn't love a good donut every now and then (or every day)?

The video then suddenly takes a turn and the cute pattern that's been developed goes to hell. These three idiots fucked up the cutesy pattern!

Oliver passes the video to "the new guy."

What is this? Is this an inside joke between Oliver and Ryan? Was Ryan just off screen watching Oliver record the bit and they didn't want him to know it was about him? (More on that in a bit).

Ryan is obviously not the new guy, so this one really doesn't make any sense. And obviously it's not supposed to.

Even more bizarre, instead of passing the phone to Ryan doing something goofy or, I don't know, tossing it back to the infamous "What a Man" scene where he actually was the "new guy" we pass it to Ryan who is actively passing the phone to someone else.

What probably happened here is that they came up with a ruse to make sure Ryan didn't actually know that the passing the phone bit was about him and had him pass the phone to Kenny, whose birthday is October 20th, as a coverup. Smart, but why would they actually use the footage?

Instead of just leaving Ryan's part out they left it in there because it shows the weird but beautiful dynamic the cast has going on.

But Ryan can't pass the phone to himself, so he has to pass the phone to Kenny so he can pass the phone back to Ryan? Weird and inefficient. But okay, I guess.

Then Kenny passes it to "eight pack." Yes. 1000% yes. Have you seen him. They really should have posted one of those pictures where the eight pack was out. Would have been the cherry on top!

Anywho, this is literally the most unserious of the birthday vids. Which matches Ryan's goofy side to a tee. I needed a laugh!

I can't with the three amigos! Maybe it's best that Kenny wasn't at Family Feud. It would have been a guaranteed L.

[hashimasims]

Absalom: That's not fair. You don't know what happened then, what it was like. You weren't there. And as far as not knowing now - The Bond didn't go dead til this morning. Something happened yesterday early in the morning she was sleeping then I felt fear and I was going to come then but then she was asleep again. I assumed she had a nightmare. I thought it odd she was sleeping so long but I know I sent her through a mental breakdown by just revealing everything to her and thought she was just avoiding the world. I was trying to give her time to process everything before I took her away. I know that's not going to help anything but what else am I suppose to do, I can't let her go. And what about you?! Why didn't you come to her? Why didn't your Bond tell you anything?

Kanaloa: I already told you, my Bond only tells me she's alive. She has to send anything else she wants me to know down the tether. But I don't need to know her emotions or thoughts through the Bond when I can just observe her. Pay attention to the sound of her voice, the way she gets a little wrinkle between her brows when she's REALLY thinking hard about something, or the way her eyes glaze over and she becomes distant EVERY time she's worrying or thinking about something, or someone, that has hurt her. I know she prefers sunflowers over roses, water to any other beverage but loves a good coffee date, who her favorite authors are and I can tell you when she's reading a particularly good smut scene in public by how stone faced she gets but she can't hide how her pupils dilate or that she's reading faster. I've known just by watching her that she's had emotional scars since childhood that have only gotten worse as she's ignored them and shoved down her own issues to appease others - like you. I just didn't know the extent of it until a few days ago. I know all this because I actually courted her; taking her on dates, constant texts and calls, making dinner for her here, while you pretty much said we're fated to be together you don't have too much say in the matter. I wanted to know WHO she is rather than WHAT she is to me before staking my claim. You moved up that time table on me because I didn't want to complete the binding until I had the chance to tell her everything but I was scared she was going to do something stupid after how I found her and I needed to be sure she had a literal lifeline if she did. I'm quite proud of her for giving you the boot when you pulled that pregnancy stunt but I'm also glad that, though she still feels bruised by it, she's moved on from it and forgiven you though I personally don't understand how. It means she can heal from her trauma and with help can maybe overcome her mental problems and insecurities. You want the truth? All she wants is to be loved and accepted and doesn’t feel she’s worthy of it nevermind being worthy of a couple of GODS! The more information that gets thrown at her the more she pulls into herself. Give her time to process and she starts to accept it. She still doesn’t understand how her family considers her one of them after everything came out but she’s getting better. She just needs time Abs and we need to be patient.

Beginning|Previous|Next

[queens-of-my-life]

my doctors appointment was so weird. on the hand she told me that the mild asthma that I used to have is basically gone, which is good. But on the other hand she said my lung function is only at 77%, when I still had asthma it was at 84%. She had no explanation as to why it is so low at the moment and didn't do any further testing she simply said to come back in a year for a check up and do some breathing exercises in the meantime.....

[kindahoping4forever]

📸: Ryan Fleming

[rowanisawriter]

i know i have talked about this pretty much constantly for the past several months straight without a break but the fact that thanatos looks so scary and when zag first meets him it looks suspiciously like a boss fight and there’s different music and the environment flashes green and you’re like fuck im going to die and lose all my progress and the guy GIVES YOU HEALTH and helps you fight your enemies. HE IS DEATH and he gives you MORE LIFE. For fucks sake….

[muffinrag]

i went to Target to try and buy some boxers and their entire men's socks and underwear section was in locked cases. i want to make this perfectly clear: i would dig my gallbladder out with nothing but a pocket knife and a spoon and then eat it raw before i would ever page a fucking employee to get me my fucking undies. everyone at target corporate should kill themselves. go to hell and fucking rot there

[qlala]

so i think the best way to do a coldflash au of the greatest musical of our time, mamma mia, would be—yes i’m aware it’s 3 a.m., why do you ask—

anyway, the best way to do it would be like, a morbid dark comedy take on it where barry’s not trying to find his father, he’s trying to find the person who framed his father. for his mother’s murder. so he’s like ‘okay i’ve reviewed all the case notes, and i’ve narrowed it down to these three men. also, unrelated, iris and eddie, you don’t mind if i invite three people to your wedding last-minute, right?’

and the three men can be like, harrison wells, eobard thawne, and of course, leonard snart

and barry has sophie’s protagonist attitude of “i’ll just know which one it is when i see him,” except obviously, he doesn’t. harrison wells is an asshole, eobard thawne is a creepy asshole, and leonard snart is… flirting with him?

(i have zero notes on the “does your mother know that you’re out” scene from the mamma mia! movie. just do that again, but angrier, because barry isn’t sure if len is taunting him over his mother’s death or just poking fun at their age gap. but it should be exactly as horny)

len would be the first to catch on to what’s going on, because he knows doc allen from iron heights and puts it together, and he would be impressed at what a ballsy idea it was if he wasn’t too busy being mad at barry for what a stupid fucking idea it was instead, inviting the man who killed his mother to a wedding he’s in, to what? give him a shot at slitting barry’s throat in his sleep next?

if that happens, iris will probably cancel this wedding that len fully intends on crashing, so naturally his only option is to follow around iris’s very stupid, very cute best man for the next three days, just to keep him from getting murdered by whichever of the other two men did kill his mother. and, since that includes the previously-mentioned threat of barry getting killed in his sleep, well… he’ll just have to talk his way into barry’s bed so he can keep an eye on him overnight, too

[front-facing-pokemon]

[volivolition]

suggestion do you have... any wants? like obviously you do but like? suggestion my guy my ourple boy. both the easiest and hardest to write. you need a skill to say something to move conversation along but it doesn't fit any skill in particular? about 80% of the time you can have suggestion say it and it will make sense. but like actually characterizing him... how do i define you dude... what makes your character tick... urgh. i dont get you yet. im trying to understand but you are difficult.

[alluralater]

i was out with my little sister picking up snacks for a movie night and on the walk back we stopped into a local restaurant that i wanted to show her and bought her one of their best (not that i would know cause i’m allergic to shellfish but i’ve HEARD great things) sushi burritos. while we were waiting for it we just chatted for a bit about random things. when they gave us our order we made to stand up (the table we were at for to-go orders is right next to the door) and in walk all these kids from prom. i was like AWWW how adorable! most of them had colored hair and were gnc expressing (some had lgbt pins on as well) but listen okay. one of them stopped at the door upon walking in and at this point my sister and i were standing and this kid goes “your hair is gorgeous” and im sorry but i felt my face go from aww to EUGH. like it was so visceral because the tone of voice was so gross and sexual and then MORE of them were jumping in but the looks on their faces had my stomach turning— TURNING I TELL YOU. i was like ushering my sister out the door in front of me and literally had to shake off how gross it let to get hit on by children. i don’t give a fuck if some of them were lEgaL age okay, that shit was GROSS and those are BABIES. my sister was like “i think you were the gay awakening for some of them” and i told her definitely not, those kids know they’re not straight AND they must know that im a full ass adult. like okay i remember being their age and thinking pretty adult women were hot too but jesus christ. and THEN my little sister starts telling me i have a baby face and that she looks older than me and i legitimately stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and was like “NO I DO NOT IT’S JUST MY CHIPMUNK CHEEKS. I DONT LOOK ANYTHING LIKE THEM!! AND I’M TALL SO I LOOK OLDER ANYWAYS” and she’s laughing at me as if this isn’t the biggest knife to the back. AND my girl told me early on that i have a baby face and she ALWAYS makes jokes about it which i find endearing if not a bit wild (i scrunch my nose when she says that and she said it makes me look even younger so now i just furrow my brows at her) and what the fuck!! i never actually thought i had a babyface, just that i had really full cute cheeks and now im being confused for what?? a CHILD?? I AM A WHOLE ADULT WOMAN OF 25 AND I AM FIVE FOOT EIGHT!!! I WILL NOT ENTERTAIN THE GAY PANIC OF CHILDREN. GET OUT OF MY SIGHT YOU BABIES. god i cannot wait for my wrinkles to come in and i can be such a sexy woman in my thirties and no one will mistake me for any other age than the one i am!! my girl was like “i hope you get carded at every bar forever” one time and now im thinking that i DO get carded because i look like a baby and not because they’re doing their due diligence. the fuck kind of bullshit is this?! and i know i can’t be like mad at kids for this but it was SO gross you guys. the smile left my face so fast when i realized what was happening. they were like a swarm of little gay bees and i was trapped between this table and the rest of them flooding in through the door all because i wanted my sister to try an awesome food place. I’M SICK OF THE DISRESPECT!! I DO NOT HAVE A BABYFACE!!! next time i will not hold back my nausea and i will throw up

[biscuityskies]

Right lads I believe tumblr has successfully made me a codywan shipper

[jrueships]

guess whos not going in at all this week, actually