#yes i know illness can be serious especially back in older time periods

[supernovasilence]

Narnia headcanons: characters + how they take being sick

Peter: baby. Absolute needy baby. He's sick and he's miserable and everyone needs to feel sorry for him and take care of him. Will put on a good face in public because he knows the High King has to project strength and security but with family and friends he's just absolutely Suffering. The only time he's stoic is when he's seriously injured and doesn't want to scare his siblings (but then they're scared anyway because they can tell it's serious). Also so bad at not scratching scabs, bug bites, etc. All his siblings learn how to automatically say "Peter, don't scratch" whenever he has something they know he's going to pick at.

Peter: *absently starts picking at a scab*

Edmund, chucking a pillow at him from across the room without looking up from his book: peterdon'tscratch

Peter, indignantly: I wasn't!

Susan: the only one of the lot who acts halfway sensibly when sick. As long as she has a good supply of books and tea she will settle down and rest, though she does have a tendency of ignoring when she's starting to get sick. Running Narnia is a full time job; she can't afford to rest today, but tomorrow, or the day after, things will be quieter, and then ofc they never are. The others learn to watch when she starts getting extra snappy, because it means she's feeling bad and muscling through it, and they need to take some of her work off her hands so she can be convinced to go rest

Edmund: Thinks he'll enjoy the chance to lie around doing nothing but gets restless within a day, and then is grumpy and sulky. Like Susan, has a tendency to push himself when he starts getting sick, making it worse in the long run, except he's better at hiding it

Lucy: goes back to running around doing stuff the instant she starts feeling better, and then is worse again the next day. This happens every time and she never learns. Her friends/family make sure at least one of them sits with her when she's sick so they can make sure she stays in bed (imagine Mr. Tumnus playing her lullabies and telling her about all the magical sights and scenes they'll go see once she's better but that means resting first or the Beavers chattering away to her or Susan reading to her or Edmund telling her increasingly wild tales about what's supposedly going on in Narnia without her and occasionally physically sitting on her out of purest duty as an older sibling (Lucy: I can murder you without leaving this bed!) or Peter insisting he has to leave the busy everything that wants the High King's attention right this moment because he has an important matter to attend to and the important matter is cuddling his little sister and promising she can get out of bed soon or poor confused Caspian distracting Lucy by letting her teach him the rules of those hand-clapping games (a 30-second wikipedia dive also leads me to believe rock-paper-scissors would have made it to Britain by the 1940s))

Caspian: probably that one person who never gets sick. Even when a bug's going around and everyone else is hacking and snotty and miserable, he's fine and everyone hates him. The few times he does get sick, it's randomly in the middle of summer when no one else is sick and he hasn't gone out in the rain or done anything differently than usual and no one gets how he's sick now. Caspian is quietly melodramatic and just. resigns himself to death. Guilt trips people into taking care of him almost as much as Peter, except that he's not actually trying. Peter finds it very unfair people are sympathetic to Caspian and not to him

Eustace: whiny whiny baby and hypochondriac that convinces himself he's dying. Is lucky the internet has not been invented yet because he would end up on webMD, certain he has everything

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hey can I get some headcanons of your relationship with your F/O parents bc y’all are such a cute family dynamic and I wanna hear more about how you all interact🥰💗

and @arianatheangelworld 

asdfghjkl; omgggg~ you’re all gonna kill me asghj 🥺😭😭thank you darlings omggg ~ 🥰🥰🥰💗 I hope that you all enjoy this, it’s always so bittersweet but also so comforting and fun to explore my dynamic with my parental F/Os and, well... isn’t that the point of it all?💖 Thank you thank you thank you for supporting and enabling me omggg ~ 💙😊

Word count: 3, 184 (holy shit I am so sorry... not😂)

It’s a quiet life, but there’s lots of underlying tensions beneath it all.

By quiet, I mean because I spend my days in my bedroom studying (not so far from reality, these relationships😂) but there are underlying tensions because no one in the household knows who Edward Hyde really is - it’s a secret between my parents and I. 

What that means is that it’s tricky for Papa and myself to spend time with one another if other members of the household are awake - as far as they are concerned, Father is my parent and so is Mama, and Papa has no part in that. So as you can imagine, questions would be raised if Papa and I are caught spending too much time together (plus, this is set in the Victorian Era, so you can imagine the scandal of an unmarried twenty-three year old woman spending lots of time alone in a room, unchaperoned, with a man old enough to be her father...)

This is why Papa and I only have our time together late into the night, when said members of the household have gone to bed and it’s only my parents and I who are awake. It’s safer for all of us that way - it protects Father and his name, his reputation and his career, which in turn protects the household members from being turned out onto the streets due to a lack of employment and this in turn protects Father’s family, who always come first.

From the moment I wake up, my parents are there. As you’ve probably gathered from previous posts, I sleep with my parents a lot so it isn’t unusual for me to wake up with one of them. Rare and special occasions mean that I get to wake up with Mama and either Father or Papa. 

Mama’s always up by five in the morning or she’ll fall behind on her chores so if she’s the one I slept with in the night, then I’ll get up when she does. She always insists that I go back to bed and that I go to sleep, but I rarely do. I much prefer to have those early hours with her so that I can help her with her chores and maybe, if I’m very lucky... I’ll get to be the one who takes Father his breakfast tray so that I get to see him early in the morning and so that I can crawl into his bed and get me some extra cuddles before I start my day.

If I sleep in with Father, then the opposite happens and I’m woken up when he gets brought his breakfast tray (7 AM on the dot!), and of course I end up getting up when he does because even though he won’t kick me out of his bed, he also knows that if he leaves me to my own devices in a soft, warm bed, I’ll end up falling asleep until noon and then I’ll beat myself up about it, so he makes sure I am awake and up before he’s done with his breakfast (and if Mama knows I slept in with Father, she’ll bring me some breakfast too!) to save me any emotional distress. 

Father always wakes me up gently... up until a certain point. He will shake me gently while saying my name, which usually gets a sleepy groan from me. Then, it’s onto talking, with his voice going from a whisper and increasing in volume until he’s just above his normal speaking level. He never raises his voice at me and we all know why. If that doesn’t work, then Father will just “accidentally” pull the covers off of me. He isn’t subtle, but he also isn’t mean about it, and if I do genuinely need some more sleep, then he will let me have that. But for the most part, he makes sure that I’m up once he is on the nights I’m in his bed.

I never ever get to wake up with Papa. It just doesn’t happen for various reasons. Firstly, because Papa’s constantly moving around like a lion stuck in a cage and he loves me dearly but not enough to stay in one place for more than a few hours unless he’s already sleeping. Secondly, because he can’t be caught in my bed or vice versa by anyone other than Mama to protect Father’s name etc. Thirdly, I may wake up to Papa crawling into my bed or easing himself in his own if I fell asleep in his bed, but I don’t ever get to start my day with Papa. Our time is night time and that has to be non-negotiable. It does upset me if I wake up in an especially needy mood, but Father and Mama will get me through the day in the meantime.

Mama likes to sneak me items of Papa’s or Father’s clothing to wear when I go to bed. She’s not supposed to but Mama is sleight of hand and I can be quick when I need to be. She and I often have silent conversations in a crowded room and all it takes is for Mama to “accidentally” make a noise, like a quick scuffing of her boot on the floor or for her knuckles to make a noise against the wooden table and I just look at her.  Mama catches my eye and then gives me A Look before she turns back to her ironing. I walk past and at the point where our lower bodies are hidden by the ironing board, she stuffs an unironed shirt in my hand (usually Papa’s) and I walk off, the shirt stowed away under my arm and then placed for safe-keeps under my pillow for the night time. Sometimes it might be one of her night-dresses, but I am comfier in either Papa or Father’s clothes.

There are so many secrets between myself and my parents which are kept from the other members of the household. Between all three of us, we manage it as best as we can, though I have no doubt that the others think we're a little odd. 😊

There are periods which are weeks long where Father is so busy in his laboratory that no one sees him. It's communication .via. letters on the stairs and that's all anyone hears from him. Mama and I worry immensely but Father's always been this way and all we can do is be patient and wait for him. He's a workaholic and he often makes himself sick from all of the working and everyone in the household knows what to do when these times arise, which are getting more frequent as Father gets older.

In especially bad times, even Mama won't be able to get through to Father. I get upset if that's the case, because if he shuts away the one person he loves above all else, it's a serious warning sign. Mama and I have a pact that if she can't get through, then I will. Father is always so protective of me, and now it's my turn to protect him. I take this very seriously, understandably so, and I wait up until two or three in the morning, so late that even Mama's gone to bed and is sleeping. I wait in his study for that time, reading one of his old medical journals, and then I go downstairs, out the back door, and into the laboratory.

It's freezing in there because there's where Father used to carry out dissections and lectures back before his illness (never canonically diagnosed but it's believed to be depression or similar) got worse, so I always take him his old smoking jacket (which doubles as my blanket when I take naps in his study). By this time in the night, Father will be so tired and sleep-deprived that he's more likely to be honest with me, and it's for this reason that I also stayed up so late - Father will assume I'm unable to sleep because I'm so worried about him, and while that's true, it's also because I know him well enough to know what time of night is best for an intervention. Yes, it's slightly manipulative on my end of things, but I am my Papa's daughter and it's with good intentions so I don't linger on this thought for too long. It won't do me any good and my Father's most important. I'd do anything for him.

I find Father where I knew he would be - scribbling in a journal by candlelight, his fingers covered in ink, his hair a mess, yawning every few seconds. A cold plate of mutton is left forgotten by his elbow, only half eaten. I'm just like him when I study so I don't lecture my Father on his bad eating habits -he and I have the same work ethic so I would be a hypocrite to tell him off for something he usually tells me off for. I announce myself by putting his smoking jacket over his shoulders. Father pulls the jacket around himself with a shiver and I smile. You're welcome.

"You should be in bed, Erika." Father frowns in disapproval and I almost want to call him out on his hypocrisy.

"So should you," My tone is sharp with worry and frustration and Father takes a moment to look at me - I never speak to him like this. "Mama's really worried about you. So am I. We haven't seen Papa for weeks, and we - " Just like always, my anger turns to upset and I move away, trying not to cry.

"Erika." I turn back to my Father and I see that he has tears in his eyes, too. He's hurting and even though he's been trying to find a cure for years, he's never been able to find one which really helps him. "I am sorry, I - my work, it is. Well, let's not discuss the details." A pause. Neither of us know what to do, even when there is no one to see or hear us. "Come here." He pats his lap and I make a happy noise, which makes him smile. I love sitting on my Father's lap - it's been something I've done ever since I was a child and it always makes me feel so safe.

I go and I sit on my Father's lap (and have a quiet cry - he knows but he doesn't say anything about it because he doesn't want to embarrass me) and he continues to work, but as the hours drag on and we both get increasingly tired, Father knows that the time for working is over. On these nights when I manage to find my Father in his own mind and pull him back with just my presence (and my very existence is a reminder of what he holds most dear), I also spend the night in his bed.

"Thank you, Erika, for..." Father trails off, but I know what he's saying to me.

I snuggle into his bed, feel my Father kiss my forehead and whisper his love, and then I sleep.

The night is half the battle - getting Father to take a break tomorrow morning will be an even bigger battle, but by then Mama will be awake and we'll work together to save Father from himself.

It's not the first or the last time, but all of us in the family have our Own Moments which require special attentions and solutions, and we love each other even harder during those times.

The reunion with Papa after getting Father to take a break from his weeks of working always makes me cry, too.

Over the years, it's become almost a... tradition, of sorts, for Papa to greet me this way after a long separation.

I could be doing anything - reading in Father's study, writing in my bed, studying at my desk - and all of a sudden, out of nowhere -

"Erika."

Whispered so casually, so quietly, but my entire body freezes. I know that voice anywhere. I drop whatever I'm doing, I tear up, and I turn, slowly...

Papa's smirking at me, a cold and calculative look in his eyes, but I'm not afraid. I'm not even nervous. Anyone else would make me step back with this look, but not Papa. No.

"Oh, my - Papa!" I step forward into his embrace and I melt into the parent I've been missing most of all. I cry, of course I do, and Papa says nothing about it (he and Father aren't so different at all, once you get to know them, though I'd never tell them that. Or Mama. It's a thought I keep entirely to myself.) because he doesn't see why he should need to; he only holds me tighter.

I can almost hear his fond eye roll and it makes me smile.

"It's difficult to understand someone who is entirely incapable of asking for what he most wants, wouldn't you agree? You're the only one he listens to," our daughter.

There is pride in Papa's voice but just like always, I can hear what he doesn't say, just as he hears what I don't say. It's just how it is between us; Papa and I have a level of understanding between us which we don't have with anyone else.

That night, Papa sleeps in my bed with me. I'm never ready to say goodbye to him, or goodnight, either. The following conversation is a nightly ritual because of this:

"Just five more minutes, Papa?"

"I'll be here tomorrow night. you know that. Sleep, child."

"But - "

"Erika."

A warning. No one else receives warnings from the Edward Hyde and lives to tell the tale. So I listen.

"Fine." I know he will be with me tomorrow night. "Stay with me 'til I fall asleep?"

Papa sighs, rolls his eyes, and pointedly lays down, watching me the whole time. I couldn't hide my smile if I tried, so I don't even bother to - Papa taught me to show my emotions and to not hide them.

"Goodnight, Erika."

"'Night, Papa. Love you."

A kiss on the top of my head, and all else fades to black.

My parents and I are very physically affectionate with one another and it's... unusual, especially if you consider the fact that it's in the Victorian Era, but the members of the household find it touching. They get hugs and affection, too! Even if they don't necessarily know how to react to it, they still do get their hugs in the morning and late at night just before they all go to bed (which is between 10 and 11, whereas I go to bed anywhere from midnight to 3 AM).

If I have a nightmare or a bad dream, I am at total liberty to climb into any bed in the house, but of course I make a beeline typically for Mama's bed. She knows nightmares well and she'll simply hold me until I feel safe, and then she'll hold me some more because I get clingy and I don't like letting go. There's been times I've cried because she let me go before I was ready for the cuddle to be over (though those times were when I was much younger) so now she just lets me decide for myself when I've had enough.

With the way I sleep with my hair in two braids, I always get a mass of tangles at the back of my head. Always. I hate it and it always makes me hesitant to brush my hair, which is now midway down my back (so I can’t not brush my hair every day), because I know it’s gonna hurt me. I’ll brush the front parts of my hair and I’ll try to brush the knots out, but it hurts so I stop and I don’t want to brush my hair. 

A part of me is always tempted to just leave it, but at the same time I know from previous experience that hair knots can and will get worse, so during these times I’ll take my brush to Mama. She’s always so gentle, not just with me, but also just in her nature. 

She is such a tender-hearted person and I admire her so deeply for that. She’s incredibly busy so typically I’ll leave brushing my hair until the evening, when she has more time to help me. I don’t always ask her for help with my hair, so when I do, she knows immediately that it’s because I really can’t do it myself.

“Mama, there’s a - I have a knot. Can you help me?”

A small smile and she goes to get her wooden comb. It’s gentler on knots than my own hairbrush, which pulls more than it needs to, and we both know it. Mama is so gentle that it barely hurts me, and within minutes she’s done what I’ve delayed all day.

“How do you want it tonight, Erika? One braid or two?”

I fondly roll my eyes - like she needs to ask. My smile is in my voice as I ask for two, and Mama and I get to spend some time with one another quietly enjoying each other’s company.

Sometimes I return the favour by helping her brush out her hair, but she’s incredibly self-sufficient and she largely prefers to do it herself. Which is fine... I’ll find other ways to help her!😊

“Thank you, Mama.” My words are doubled up with a tight hug, and then I’m ushered off to bed because it’s late and she’s exhausted.

I technically have three parents and each one fulfills a different need for me, so all together, they meet all of my needs and I try, I try to be a daughter that they can be proud of, that they can respect and that they can love unconditionally. I try so hard every day to live in a way to honour their places in my life.

There's nothing I wouldn't do for my parents. I would die for my parents, to give them a happy ending, to give them the time to be together, but in many ways... I am that happy ending, even if things aren't perfect. It's a fight sometimes to keep secrets exactly that, but we make it work. We have to.

I tell them each and every day that I love them, I hug them and cuddle them and help them out where I can, because they deserve the world.

They are my parents and I am very grateful to and for them. They have made me who I am today and they'll be with me forever, no matter where I go or what I do or who I become. I just hope that they'll continue to walk with me for the rest of my life, because I wouldn't be alive without them... in more ways than one.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #461

“this city looks so pretty, do you wanna burn it with me?”

Have you ever wanted a Nikon camera? Or do you have one already? My camera before the one I have now was a Nikon D3200. I use a Canon now. Who was the last person (if anyone) you said Happy Birthday to? A friend. Do you have Photoshop? If so, how often a day do you use it? I have it, but I barely use it nowadays. I use it to edit photos for character profiles or profile pictures, add a watermark for my actual photography, and I used to make Mark-oriented gifs like crazy. They mostly did really well, so... I might wanna get back into that and get That Sweet Validation. Do you watch any shows that you know your parents wouldn’t approve of? No. Have any of your exes gotten married or had kids since your breakup? None, I think. Do either of your parents have a mental illness? My mom has depression. Can you tolerate children for a long period of time? NO. Have you ever lived with someone you felt thoroughly uncomfortable around? No. Are you into dubstep? Yeah, I tend to enjoy it. Zelda or The Sims games? Can I pick neither? lol I don't feel very much at all for The Sims, and Zelda games have always looked... boring to me? Like I've watched most of the Game Grumps' playthroughs of all the games, and they make it hilarious of course, but the games themselves? Nah. Are you terrible at assigning bands their proper genre? YES YES YES YES YES YES. Even in my preferred category, that being metal, FUCK if I know the sub-genre. Have you ever made out in a closet? No, that shit sounds claustrophobic as hell. Have you ever been to a laser tag place? Yeah, on a triple-date once! It was SO fun. How do you wanna celebrate your next birthday? Have a couple friends over, pig out at The Cheesecake Factory. o3o Do you tease your parents about them being old? No, especially not Mom. She's self-conscious about getting older. Are you in love with someone? "In love" is a bit too far, buddy. But I love someone. Have you ever ridden a unicycle? No. Have you ever wanted a pet bunny? I was VERY serious about getting a lop-eared bunny for quite a while, but we just couldn't afford to adopt one (even off Craigslist) and get a cage for it, toys, etc. Are the bottom of your feet clean? I HATE seeing the bottom of my feet. Not because they're dirty, but because it's Callus City. I ain't even fuckin jokin'. Do you like really salty food? Yeah. :x When’s the last time you bled a lot? Well, I just recently finished my cycle after not menstruating for three or four MONTHS, so you can figure that one out. Have you ever watched a needle go into your own skin? Yeah. I like to know exactly when it's coming. Have you ever seen someone get a piercing/tattoo? Yes to both. When you’re done eating finger foods, do you usually lick your fingers? Usually kasdjlf;kalsdjf shut up ok I like food. What’s the most racist thing you have ever said? As a little kid, when my really good friend (a neighborhood kid, even) asked if he thought we'd be a good couple, I told him no because "blacks and whites don't date" or something like that. It was an idea I'd never been exposed to before; the idea was so foreign to little kid me. I had no idea I was being racist. It ended in a small fight and we didn't talk for a few days 'til he came to my house telling Mom that he had to "be a man" and fix this and if that ain't the cUTEST SHIT RIGHT THERE. We were friends again after that. He's still on my Facebook, and he actually semi-recently got married! :') Do you know someone that is mute, deaf or blind? No. Have you ever spent more than two weeks in a wheelchair? No. Does weed smell good? Or no? Ugh, no. Where do you see your closest friend in ten years? Successful and happy she kept pushing. Mama to so many reptiles that are blessed with the best lives possible in human care. Got at least one amazing book out there. If she's reading this, you've fucking got this. <3 Would you like to have twins? Mother of fucking god, no. Even if I WANTED kids, do fucking not give me twins. Who was the last person you got into an argument with? My mom. Want to have kids before you’re 30? Once again, I don't want kids, but IF I did, that'd be preferable before the risk of birth defects and other issues climb with age. Does anybody have a tattoo with your name on it? My older sister has my initial. Do you think somebody’s in love with you? No. Do you think you and your best friend will be friends in ten years? Yes, I genuinely do. Who were the last people to hang out at your house? Miss Tobey, our friend and landlord. Does anyone like you? Welp... I hope he still does. Guess we'll figure that out soon. What person on your Facebook do you talk to the most? VIA Facebook? Probably my friend Lyndsey. She likes to comment on stuff I share. Do you want to fall in love? I do, but I'm also utterly horrified to and risk being hurt again. Are you interested in more than one person at the moment? No. Once I realized I was so deeply into Girt, all other romantic feelings kinda just... poofed. How was your last break up? Civil and done with both of our best interests in mind. What is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to say? Probably the first time I admitted I needed to go to the hospital for suicidal thoughts. I was so, so scared of what it was going to be like. What is the hardest thing you NEEDED to hear? That if Jason wasn't happy with me, he had every right to move on. She was right. Do you treat yourself well? No... but I'm trying to change that. What was the last song you sang out loud to? This "Set Fire to the Rain" cover. Do you take good pictures? I think I do? Have you ever done any internship? No. What’s a topic you’ve drastically changed your opinion on? Holy shit, so much, especially when it comes to morality and political stances. I am now a massive supporter and member of the LGBTQ+ community, I'm pro-trans rights, pro-choice... I've done like a dozen 180s in a lot of topics. Do you know anyone who has a PhD? I mean, some doctors, but no one in my truly personal life. Do you know anyone who works as a lawyer? Yes: my cousin. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? LAKSDJFKLA;JWD NEVER AND I PRAY TO THE HOLY LORD THAT I NEVER DO. Does the thought of having wrinkles when you’re older upset you? Not massively? Like literally everyone gets them and is natural and inevitable. Do you know anyone who’s struggling with addiction? I know one alcoholic, and one that's probably borderline. I also have two friends who are extremely addicted to weed. Look me in the eyes and say it's not an addictive substance and I wouldn't believe you one bit. Is there a video or computer game that you can get lost in for hours? Eh, sometimes World of Warcraft. Some days I'm really into it, and others I barely touch it. What’s your favorite Disney Channel movie? I have no clue. I don't even remember movies that were made *for* Disney exclusively. Do you ever have to do yard work? No. We have a friend from the dance studio mow the lawn. Do you have any live versions of songs in your music software? My iPod has a whole live album of Ozzy. Did you or do you listen to Britney Spears songs? Both did and do. Britney is a boss bitch. Does your favorite band have a male or female lead singer? Male. Have you seen the movie Moulin Rouge? No, but I've seen some of that P!nk music video of the song and it brings out the Gay in me. Do you have a key to anything besides your house? No. Could you ever complete a 500-piece puzzle? I've done that before. I miss doing puzzles... Have you ever been to any sort of convention? I went to a reptile expo with Sara!! I REALLY want to go to another when my legs are stronger and can handle standing and walking so much. Is your mom or dad the older parent? Mom. Have you ever tried to walk on a moving vehicle and fallen over? No????? What is your favourite kind of bread? Is there any of that in your house? Pumpernickel. No. Are/were you in the school band, and if so, what instrument did you play? I played the flute all through middle school and I wanna say half of HS. Have you ever ordered an unusual drink at a bar? Never even been to one. Have you ever been pulled aside by security at the airport? I think once for some reason I don't recall? What is your favourite seasonal candy? (only available at certain times) Gingerbread men, probs. Or chocolate bunnies!!! :') How do you feel right now? My stomach is KILLING me. I'm super excited though that Girt is coming over tomorrow. Have you ever had surgery that kept you in the hospital for over a day? No. What would you like your generation to change? How we treat nature. Is there anyone that you truly could not live without? No. I learned that is a very unhealthy mentality to have. Do you like carrots more if they’re raw, or cooked? I just hate carrots. What restaurant did you last go out to dinner at with friends? With friends? I couldn't even guess. Does your refrigerator have an ice maker or do you use ice cube trays? It has an ice maker. Do you have a favorite sibling, if any? No; I love them all. Do you have a favorite brand of clothing? I STAN CLOAK. How’s the love life? Something new might start tomorrow. I think it will. Do you watch the news? No; that shit is depressing. Who do you admire most? Mark. Do you have a favorite album? Black Rain by Ozzy Osbourne takes the cake and always will.

[leossmoonn]

hii congrats on 1.4k!! can i request 🔮 for male marauders and golden trio era? my pronouns are she/her, i’m gryffindor, i laugh in situations i shouldn’t be laughing at, i’m very friendly and i act the same around a person i know for 5 minutes and a person i know for years, i’m loud when talking, i’m too kind for my own sake, i get annoyed easily but everyone says i’m funny then, i get nervous easily especially around a person i like and i get especially loud then, i love nature and swimming and i love dancing but i’m really bad at it,, thank you!!

thank you so much! yes yes of course!

male marauders ship - james potter

when james first heard your laugh, he immediately fell in love. he was in detention and had heard your laugh from outside the classroom. you were walking through the halls w marlene and dorcas as you all had a free period. james turned his head and fell even more as he saw your face. he then realised it was you, gryffindor prefect and top of all your classes. sirius had always thought you were a know-it-all, but james thought you were funny and pretty and he was determined to get to know you better.

so after detention, he went to his house to find you. luckily, you were studying w remus and lily. he walked up to you all suave and gave you a little smirk, to which you reacted by just staring at him while sweating profusely. little did he know, you also liked him. but ofc he didnt know that, not yet, so his smile faltered and he gave you a warm, polite smile instead and said “hi, y/n. i’m james potter. we have potions and DADA together.” he held his hand out for you to shake and you stared at it for a good few seconds before laughing. youre like “y-you, you know my name? ohmygod, haha- WOW. s-sorry, i-i’m not usually this um, giggly. HAHA” and james just grins and says “no worries love. do you mind accompanying to hogsmeade this weekend” and youre like “… alright…” and james is sooo happy hehe. “it’s a date!” he exclaimed before running up to his dorm to find sirius to tell him the good news. the wait for the weekend was painful for both of you, but def worth it.

you met him at the gates, looking beautiful as usual. james complimented you like 100 timed in the first 5 minutes, you were grinning like a child who just got their christmas wish. you two strolled around the town, james ending up buying everything for you 💀. you open up to him pretty quickly and you two bounce from topic to topic seamlessly. at the end of the night, you two were at hog’s head and (ik this sounds like a muggle thing but shhh) they had karaoke night and lily and remus sung a duet, to which james pulled you up from your seat in surprise. at first you're confused and are like "wth???" and james is like "dance with me, darling!" and you're like "HAHA NO" and james frowns and asks why and you pull him close and say "i'm horrible at dancing, james. althought i will admit, i love it," you chuckle. and james is like "perfect! here, i'll teach you, m'kay?" and you're not so sure but yk james won't let up so you follow him to the dance floor.

he puts your arms around his neck and he puts his hands on the middle of your back, not too high, not too low, and you two start dancing. james at first is impressed and is like "you're not half bad, l/n." but he's spoken too soon bc you then begin to step on his feet as you two sway faster. and he's like "OW OW OW!" and you pull away from him and is like "ah im so sorry. i didn't mean to :((" and he just shrugs, "it's alright. no worries. here, lemme teach you". and he takes you in his arms again. "just follow my lead, okay. relax and just feel the music. if you panic, just stop, look at my feet, and regroup, m'kay?" and you nod tentatively and he smiles and you two start swaying. for the first 3 minutes, your eyes are at his feet, watching his and making sure you don't trip again and hurt his toes. and a few minutes later, you are dancing like a pro! (you step on his feet still... but only a few times so its not that bad hehe).

male golden trio ship - fred weasley

fred made smth blow up in hagrid's face (bless his soul) and the whole class went silent except for you. fred and george were laughing, but they were keeping it quiet while you were literally honking. your whole face gets hot with embarrassment as you realise you're the only one laughing and everyone is staring at you. you look down in shame at your desk as you feel everyone's judging eyes on you. well, not everyone is judging hehe. hargrid ends up taking 15 points from your house, 10 for the prank, 5 for you laughing (oops...). hagrid continues class and everyone goes back to paying attention to him except for fred. he's staring at you the whollleeee time.

you're two grades below him (u two are 5th and 7th year but ill age u up to 16 instead of 15 since he’s 17:)) so honestly he's never really noticed you outside of the common room before. you are friends w ron tho so ofc he knows of you and has seen you around the school, but he's never really paid attention to you before until now. and he glad he finally did because you are gorgeousss. after class, he ends up approaching you and ofc you're starstruck bc your best friend's cool, funny, hot older brother is talking to you.

he's like "i noticed you were laughing at my prank. you think that was funny?" and his tone kinda makes you scared bc he's really serious, but you end up nodding really slowly. his serious face breaks into a happy one as he says "great! at least someone was amused. say, you're friends with my baby brother, right?" he asks. and you're like "um... yeah..." and he says "great! well, why don't you take a break from hanging out w my loser brother and hang out w me tonight? george and i are planning a few more pranks." your jaw drops to the mf floor and youre like “uh. um yeah… s-sure” and fred’s like “😁😁😁 GREAT. see u then, l/n!” and your heart goes 🦋🦋🦋 and youre like “alright.. see you then”

so like you tell your friends, harry ron and hermione, abt your plans and harry is like “cool cool. tell us how it goes!” and hermione and you are giggling abt you hanging out w a boy two years up from you. and ron’s like “yeah whateva. have fun ig🙄” and hes just jealous bc his cool olders brothers are stealing his best friend but you reassure him you’re still his bff and youll hang out w him after/the next day. A

NYWAYS so it comes time and you step into the common room, confused as there was no one there. so you go and sit on the couch to wait but as you sit down, fred’s face immediately emerges from nowhere and you literally trip over and fall into him (which youre freaked out bc you cant see his body) but the invisibility cloak drops and he puts his arms around you quickly and holds you up just as your abt to fall. and your faces are literally like millimeters apart. and you think youre abt to kiss but fred pulls away and helps stabilize you before grabbing his cloak. youre like all shy again and he just smiles and says hello and sits down in the couch. you follow him in suit and he explains what the invisibility cloak is. then he gets out all his toys and prank stuff and you’re honestly really interested and you even give him ideas for new pranks and yk he likes you like 1000 times more hehe.

you two end up talking for a few hours and you emerge out of your shell and fred is very happy bc he now sees like the real you. a few hours later and your curled up on the couch, head on his shoulder and youre about to fall asleep (super romantic). fred then mentions george and youre like “oh wait. how come he isnt here?” and fred’s like “hes w angelina. his gf” and youre like “oooh” and then you boldly ask “do you have a gf” and you lift your head up from his shoulder and your face is so close to his, not as close as before, but you can feel his breath on your lips. and he looks you in the eyes and is like “no” and youre like “do you like anyone?” and as he speaks he looks down at your lips, “yeah. i think i do” and you think you know its you bc well like, how can you not in this moment. and youre like “who?” and hes like “you” AND THEN (im sorry this shit is so long but im living the dream) he leans in and your lips touch and you kiss and its all 😍🦋😏😁😋😩🥰🤩😽👻. lol anyways you pull away and are like 😳 and fred is like 😏 “ill see u tmrw right?” and youre like “y-yeah…” and you watch as he stood up and collects his stuff and leaves you. once you know hes gone, you stand up and start squealing and jumping around hehe and you run upstairs to tell hermione.

next morning, fred finds you at lunch and asks you point blank if you wanna be his gf and youre like “yes duh.” and you two then become official! so even tho fred is a prankster and is always carefree and stuff, he does have a compassionate side that comes out when he feels need be. hes so supportive too and he treats you like a mf queen. he’ll literally buy you anything and will do anything for you. he also plays jokes on u which you get him back and hes very impressed w your creativity and boldness.

so during breaks and summers, you visit the burrow and you two often hang out outside near the willow tree in their yard. you two also go swimming in the lake (let’s pretend its a big lake not a pond lol). its super nice and relaxing especially on like 90 degree days where you two are melting. you two always are splashing each other and laughing loudly. sometimes you two just cuddle and drink pumpkin juice and talk about what fred is gonna do now that he’s outta school. tbh youre afraid that once you go back to school and youre apart, youll grow apart, but fred always assure you two that you wont bc you two are soulmates <3

hope you enjoyed this!

join my celebration!

[swiftlymoniquesblog]

Crossing Parallel Lines- Sam Winchester x Reader: Chapter 11

******WARNING: The following may be a trigger to some readers! Please, read the author’s note and proceed with caution!********

A/N: Hello! Yes, I FINALLY updated this series since April! I know, it’s been a long time but I wanted this to be perfect. This was a hard chapter to write because I wrote about my own diagnosis and battle with anxiety. I wish I actually had Sam to be here for me when the battles get to be too much but I hope this brings comfort to anyone who is fighting mental illness. Please, get some help for yourself. I know it’s hard and it’s scary not knowing exactly what you’re feeling but it will be the best decision you ever make. I don’t like admitting I need help but I’m so glad I did it. This is how I cope, talking about it, but please don’t feel pressured.

Warnings: Angst, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of medications, scary thoughts, slight mention of sex but no details, protective!Sam, fluff

Word Count: 2,767

Sam’s POV

When I sent y/n back to her universe, I ultimately thought that was the best decision for both of us. I know her life was less than perfect back home, but I knew she had a life. She has a job and a cat and a best friend so I figured she needed to go back to that lifestyle. That we would be able to follow the rules of the spell easily. We would have to wait an entire month until we could use the spell and see one another again and the week would be just enough time to be able to feel satisfied until the next reunion, but I was wrong. God was I wrong. At first, it was easy. Our first spell was magical, literally! Having y/n back in the Bunker was what we both needed; it had been too long. We spent every waking moment together and even when we slept, we were next to each other. But the week went by too fast and we had the agonizing task of having to say goodbye again and wait another month until we could be around each other. After nearly five months of doing this, I concluded that enough is enough!

“Hey, Dean,” I say, walking into his ‘Dean cave’ and interrupting what he was watching.

“Not now Sammy, the good stuff is on,” he says not even bothering to look at me. I turn behind me and see he’s watching porn, again, and I groan in frustration.

“Ah, Dean! Come on man, it’s 10 a.m.!” I roll my eyes as Dean proceeds to fight his point.

“That may be, but this stuff is always on, dude,” Dean argues back but I won’t let this stop my plans. Reaching over to grab the remote from off the armrest of the couch, I press the power button, and the screen went black.”

“Hey! Why did you do that?” Dean whines like a child to me.

“Because I need your help with something,” I start my case but am quickly interrupted.

“Look, Sam, whatever it is, it can wait,” Dean explains and reaches for the remote again.

“It’s about y/n!” I yell, causing my older brother to freeze.

“What about her? Is she okay?” Panic begins to flood Dean’s mind, it’s written all over his face, so I quickly settle his nerves.

“No, yeah, she’s fine, it’s just…I need her here man.”

“But it’s only been two weeks since you saw her last,” adds Dean, but I counter back.

“I know but it’s too long, Dean. I need her here, with me, all the time. I love her way too much to only see her once a month. I worry that she’s hurt or she’s sad and there isn’t anything I can do for her. I cannot physically be there for her and it’s killing me. She needs me, Dean. Especially right now.” I finish my small speech before Dean continues the discussion.

“What do you mean, especially now? Sam, you said she was okay but that doesn’t sound good. What’s wrong with y/n?!”

“It’s her head, Dean.”

“Her head?”

“Yeah, she has anxiety. She was just diagnosed not that long ago and it’s affecting her head. The medicine she takes, it really messes with her head and it causes panic attacks. She hasn’t been able to do much for the last 24 hours because her body is trying to keep up with the meds. And she’s scared, Dean. The meds are going to help her soon but she’s still in the introductory period and it’s being really hard on her. I-I need to be there with her. She needs me, Dean, and I’m no good if I’m stuck here.” I say, telling the truth about what y/n is going through.

“Whoa, I uh, I had no idea she was going through all that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, just as sadden and surprised by the realization too.

“I didn’t either until I talked to her yesterday when she first got the medication. The doctor did a test on her, a survey really, and she rated how she was feeling on a scale of like 1 to 5, and out of twenty points, she scored 14. It’s pretty serious, man,” I say, holding back my tears that threatened to spill over. This was not the time for me to be emotional but to be strong for the woman I love. “She has no one else to help her through this, I need to be there.”

“But you can’t go there now, Sam. The lore specifically said it has to be every month and it’s only been two weeks,” Dean tells me the rules of the spell once more.

“Yeah, I know that Dean, but this is serious! My girlfriend is suffering through mental health issues and literally has no one else she can turn to. Callie went out of town with her family; I’m all y/n has!” I yell and that’s when my tears fled from my eyes. Without uttering a word, Dean walked over and hugged me. He could feel the sobs racking throughout my body and he knew this was important to me.

“Alright man, we’ll talk to Rowena. See if we can’t find another way around this spell. Hey, we found a way for you two to cross between two universes, I’m sure we can find a loophole so you can see her sooner,” Dean told me when I finally settled down.

“You think so?” I ask, sniffling back any more tears, wiping my jacket sleeve over my nose.

“Sure, I do. Come on Sammy, there’s nothing more powerful than love, right? I mean, I haven’t been in love with anyone in a really long time, but I do remember what it was like. And I know for damn sure, nothing would keep me from protecting that girl. So, now that you’re the one in love, and y/n has become like family to both of us, I don’t see why we can’t fight for her.”

“Thanks, Dean,” I say, a small string of hope suddenly washed over me, but it was enough to make me want to do this.

“I’ll call Rowena, you call y/n. Check-in on her and tell her I said hi too,” I nod to Dean as he walks into the next room.

I reach in my back pocket and pull out my phone. Pressing the power button, the screen lights up to show the first picture y/n and I took as a couple. She’s smiling so wide; her little cheekbones look like they might pop. I remember I had starting tickling her after she confessed how ticklish she was.

“No, no, Sam….don't you dare,” Y/N says, looking at my face as she slowly starts backing away from me.

“You know, babe, you really shouldn’t have told me you were ticklish. I am going to take advantage of this newfound information, I hope you know,” I tell her, growing increasingly closer to her.

“Sam, I’m telling you, stay away,” she says, still backing away from me, a devilish grin etched on my face. She was smiling at me too, knowing full well what she was getting into. She turned and began to run from me, but, being significantly taller than her, she didn’t get too far before I caught up to her, scooping her up in my arms and immediately tickling her. She squealed and laughed uncontrollably, as my fingers ran all over her stomach.

“SAM!” She screamed/laughed but I didn’t show any signs of slowing down, that is until she cried out that she couldn’t breathe.

“I told you, you shouldn’t have told me that,” I say as I bring into my side.

“I know but I want us to be fully open with each other. If this relationship is going to work, we have to tell each other everything, even if that means we have to suffer through something,” She threatening raised an eyebrow at me, showing off her attitude.

“What? That was worth it, seeing you laugh that hard was adorable. I mean, you were totally crying!”

She faked being angry with me until I turned her around and forced her to look up at me.

“That is a side of you I hope I always get to see,” I say and lean down to kiss her. When we broke apart, she brought out her phone and wanted to snap a selfie. She smiled her wide, beautiful smile, as I looked at her lovingly, and she took the picture.

I clicked on her name and put the phone to my ear. It began ringing and I held my breath. Come on baby, pick up. Please, pick up.

“Sam.” She spoke my name and I could tell she had just been crying.

“Hi baby, are you okay? You sound like you had been crying,” I spoke in the softest tone I could, knowing just how fragile she was, and she began crying again.

“I h-have been. I-I-I j-just miss you. I-I n-need y-you,” she cried into the phone, my heartbreaking as she did so.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry I’m not there right now, but I promise, I’m coming, okay? Please baby, be strong for me, okay? Just hold on a little longer. We’re working on a way for me to come see you sooner. My beautiful girl, please hang in there. I’m coming, I will be there with you soon.” I spoke, holding my composure together. I knew that if I didn’t it would only make things harder on her, and I couldn’t do that to her. I needed to help her, not make things worse.

“I-I l-love y-you, Sammy,” she mutters out, and then, I hear the phone drop.

“Y/N?! Baby?! DEAN!” I hear the silence on the other end and knew she wasn’t there. As fast I could, I jump up and run into the kitchen, where Dean was helping Rowena mix up a concoction of God knows what.

“What happened, Sam?” Dean asks, taking in my distraught look.

“It’s y/n, the line dropped. Oh my God, Dean, what if she’s trying to hurt herself or worse, kill herself?” I panic pace around the room.

“Sam, you need to calm down. You don’t know that. It’s y/n, she wouldn’t take her own life. She loves you too much,” Dean says, trying to rationalize with me.

“But that was it, Dean, she told me she loved me and then the line dropped,” I argue back and before Dean could put in a rebuttal, Rowena stepped in.

“Here Samuel, drink this quick. You don’t have a lot of time! You only have a thirty-second window to take this before we’d have to make this again,” I downed the drink before she even finished explaining.

We all sat and waited, time seemingly dragging on, before a blinding light enclosed around me, temporarily knocking me out. When I finally came too, I slowly stood up and saw y/n’s house before me. It worked. I said a thank you to Castiel, not even sure if he was listening, and ran up to the house. Jingling the doorknob, it was locked. Damnit, y/n, you just have to be safe right now. Quick on my feet, I grab my tool and begin picking the lock, soon opening the door. I run inside and back to the far right of the apartment, where y/n’s bedroom was.

“Y/N?! Where are you, baby?!” I yell, scanning the room for any sight of her but it was empty.

“Y/N?!” I yell again and heard an ‘ow!’ followed by some banging coming from the kitchen. I dart out of the room into the living room, where she ended up walking out into. She must’ve been baking; her face and hair were covered in flour.

“Sam!” She yells, and rushes over to me, jumping up and wrapping her smaller frame around me.

“Y/N, you’re okay!” I say, my heart rate beginning to slow when I noticed she wasn’t in immediate danger.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I mean, I’ve been sad a lot lately, but I’m okay,” she had pulled back to look at me.

She probably knew I was a wreck, pushing hair out of my face, and placing her hand on my cheek. I melt into her touch, not realizing just how much I craved it. I looked in her eyes, seeing just how red and swollen they were from crying, but she was smiling now. And without wasting any more time, I push my lips on hers, eagerly showing her just how much I missed her. She kissed me back with as much desperation as I had, surprising me that she had the energy to keep up with me. My lips find their way to her neck, kissing and gently biting the skin there, leaving my mark on her. A little moan escaped past her lips and I took advantage of that, by kissing her lips once more, my tongue pushing its way into her mouth. I could feel and taste every part of her mouth, but that wasn’t enough. Backing up to her room, I push the door open, careful not to break the kiss with her, and guided us to her bed. She falls back and temporarily breaks out kiss so she could lift her shirt over her head. My eyes quickly scan over her half-exposed body before she brings me back into a kiss. My hands roam over her chest as I felt dizzy with each touch. I knew this was something we both have wanted for a long time but I wasn’t sure this was the time for it.

“Wait, are you sure you want to do this tonight? I mean, you’ve been so upset the last two days,” I say as I take in the sight of a sad girl before me.

“Yes, I have, but I need to start feeling better and the only way I can think of, is being with you. You told me in the letter when you sent me back here, that you wanted to make love to me. I want you to make love to me tonight, Sam,” she said without an ounce of doubt in her voice. I attach my lips to hers once again, and I follow through with my promise.

When we settled back down for the night, I brought her as close to me as humanly possible and had her talk to me. She told me about everything she was feeling, why she felt like she needed to be put on medicine, and all the demons she was fighting in her head.

“My sweet girl, I am so sorry. I didn’t know you were fighting this,” I admit, trying to look at her in the darkness.

“How could you? You weren’t here when my symptoms really came to ahead. I mean, as I’ve done more research, I’ve noticed things in me that I used to feel like a kid, too, so I guess I’ve always had it. I just didn’t know what to do about it, or how to express how I was feeling. It wasn’t common when I was growing up but I’m getting help for it. And now, I have you and Dean, and Cas, to talk to, I hope.”

“Of course, you have us to talk to. We don’t want you to fight this alone. Please come and talk to us, whenever you feel yourself going into a panic attack, or even if you just feel sad, come get me. If it’s three in the morning, wake me up. I’ll drop anything and listen to you; you’re not alone,” I say, kissing her forehead, as she snuggled up against me.

“Thank you, Sam. I’m glad you’re with me for this. I don’t know how I’m going to be in the next few weeks, but I’m sorry in advance,” she says.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, y/n. You have an invisible war going on in your head; you just need help dealing with it. I will come right alongside you and will fight your battles with you. I love you so much, baby girl,” I say, taking her hand in mine and encouraging her to try and sleep. I can only imagine she hasn’t been able to get too much rest with all the new things going on with her. But no matter what may happen, I will be committed to helping her through every hard time. She was that important to me.

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[crystalninjaphoenix]

MerMay Day One An Ending and a Beginning

A cool breeze drifted over the ocean. The sun was setting, nearly fully gone, lighting up the water until it turned into liquid fire. The main beach was still dotted with families and couples, but this small section, rockier than the other, was closed to the public. That didn’t stop the pair of teenagers from strolling down the sand. The couple was holding hands, neither of them looking any older than sixteen or seventeen. The boy suddenly broke off, running forward to a private dock extending off the beach. He turned back to look at the girl, grinning. “C’mon!”

The girl laughed. “Slow down, Chase!”

Chase laughed as well, stopping just before the dock. He pulled his gray cap off his head, ruffling his hair. His expression suddenly shifted into something more serious as he turned around to look at the setting sun. “Hurry up, Stacy, this is time-sensitive!”

Stacy sped up to catch up with him. Once even with him, she sighed, brushing away flyaway strands of honey ginger hair that had escaped her ponytail. “It’d help if you explained what this was all about.”

“I told you, it’s a surprise,” Chase insisted. “Besides, I don’t know how I’d explain it. You need to see it.” He started walking down the dock. “C’mon.”

The two of them walked all the way to the end, where they sat down, dangling their feet over the water. Stacy sighed, a smile drifting across her face. “It’s beautiful.”

“The sunset?” Chase asked.

“Yeah. They’re always good on the ocean, but this is especially pretty.”

“Hmm.” Chase nodded in agreement. “Hey Stacy...do you remember when we met?”

Stacy laughed. “Yeah. Just over there.” She waved down the beach, towards the more public section. “You know...I thought you were acting a bit weird at first,” she confided. “But that was before we really knew each other. If I’d known about the illness, I would’ve been nicer.”

“You were plenty nice,” Chase assured her. “I was a bit of a weirdo, I’m surprised you didn’t just laugh and walk away.”

“Still.” Stacy scooted closer to Chase. “Y’know, you’re a good kind of weirdo.”

Chase laughed. “Thanks.” For a moment, the serious expression returned. “Did you know that was a year ago?”

“Really? Huh.” Stacy shrugged. “No, I didn’t. Then again, summer beach days all blur together to me.”

“It was actually a year and a day ago,” Chase said. “Would...you think I was...the bad kind of weird if I said I’d seen you before that?”

“Uh...I mean, I guess it depends in what way.” Stacy was still smiling, but it faded a bit. “Like, if you were following me around, or if you’d just ran into me, or…?”

“I mean, like, I saw you when you came to the beach,” Chase explained. He looked down, playing with his hands. “With all your friends. I could hear what you were saying sometimes, and...I-I wanted to get to know you better. But I couldn’t. I know how that might sound, but I-I didn’t mean anything of it. I just wanted to know you. I didn’t think we’d end up...you know.”

“Dating for five months?” Stacy asked.

“Exactly.” Chase looked at her, placing his hand on top of hers. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Stacy raised an eyebrow. “Is this going somewhere, Chase? We sneak onto a closed beach at sunset, a year after we met? Were you planning this for a while?”

Chase looked over at the sunset. The orb of the sun was almost completely under the waves. “I mean, yeah. Look, you’re gonna have to roll with me for a bit.” He took off his cap, placing it beside him, then slid off the dock and into the water, briefly disappearing under the surface. He stayed down under there for a second. When he popped back up, he threw his shirt, pants, and sandals up onto the dock.

“Whoa, Chase.” Stacy leaned back, pulling her legs back onto the dock. “I know we’ve—well, y’know, but I don’t think I’m up for anything right n—”

“No no no, I’m not asking you to get in the water too,” Chase hurried to say. “I just need to show you something.”

“Um.” Stacy raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound much better.”

“Trust me, it’s not what you’re thinking.” Chase looked back at the sunset, watching as the last hint of sun disappeared. He glanced back at Stacy. “Just don’t freak out.” And he ducked under the water with a splash.

Stacy was left staring at the spot where he disappeared. Left staring for a long time. A long enough time to get worried. She scooted closer to the dock edge, looking down into the water.

Something white and orange splashed out of the water. Stacy yelped, drawing back. Chase burst out of the water, shaking his head and causing drops of water to fly everywhere. He smiled up at her. “Okay, you were saying I’m weird? This is the weirdest part of me.”

“Chase! What—” Stacy cut herself off. Her eyes widened. Chase looked different. There were...there were little orange fins on the side of his head. She gasped. “What the fuck?!”

“Yeah, I...I know this is a shock.” Chase smiled softly. He grabbed the edge of the dock and lifted himself a little bit out of the water. There were more orange fins on his wrists, and white scales across his chest and upper arms. “So...yeah. I’m not exactly...normal.”

Stacy gaped. “You’re a—a—you’re a mermaid?!”

Chase frowned. “Well, no, ‘cause I’m a guy. I’m a merman. Or if you just want to use the gender-neutral term, I’m a merm. But, um. Yeah.”

Stacy stared at him. She wondered if this was some kind of prank, if Chase was wearing some kind of makeup. But no. The fins and scales were real. Her entire world shifted. “I—I didn’t know you were—were real.”

“Well, yeah, we are.” Chase laughed awkwardly. “I guess it makes sense now why my favorite movie is Finding Nemo.” A tail flashed out of the water, orange with white and black.

“But—I—how do you—you were walking,” Stacy stammered. “You went to school. Wait.” Her eyes widened. “Oh my god, there was never any illness, was there?”

“You mean the one that kept me home most of my life and was the reason I couldn’t walk right? No, I-I made that up,” Chase admitted. “There had to be a reason for why I didn’t know anything.”

“How did you—how did you have legs, though?!”

“Well, y’know, I think Hans Christian Andersen must’ve known more than what most people would think,” Chase said. “He got...he got things really right.”

“So you met a sea witch?” Stacy asked.

“I mean, he lives in a lake, but yeah, I guess you could call him a witch.” Chase shrugged. “He’s a friend of mine.” He lifted himself further out of the water. “Hey Stacy. I told you, I saw you at the beach. I wanted to get to know you, but, well, it was impossible to do that when I’m like this.” His tone lowered. “There aren’t a lot of merms left, Stace. We can’t risk humans finding us. For good reason, too. But you seemed so cool and funny and you’re so active and I love how you live life to the fullest, and still really care about people, and you’re a lot smarter than you think, you know—” He shook his head. “I’m getting distracted. Anyway, I wanted to know you. So I went upstream to visit my friend, and ask him if he knew a way I could.”

“He turned you human?” Stacy asked softly.

“Not permanently,” Chase said. “Just for a year and a day. There’s a spell to permanently make the transformation to human, but it’s difficult...and irreversible. He wanted me to be sure. But the designated time period has passed, and the spell’s worn off. I...I have to decide if I want to become human forever.”

Stacy laughed awkwardly. “Well, it seemed like you had a good time. But...do you want to?”

“Actually…” Chase smiled sadly. “I don’t think I would. It’s not as great for me as you think. I love some of the stuff up here, but...you know in the original Little Mermaid, she felt like she was walking on knives all the time? It...it’s a bit like that. It’s not normal for me to walk, Stace. I don’t think I can get used to it. And everything is loud and bright and close together. The only reason I really would want to stay is...is…” Chase reached up, and took Stacy’s hand. “Is if you would stay with me.”

Stacy blinked. “Stay with you? You mean, forever?”

“If you want to, of course,” Chase said. He looked up at her, eyes shining. “But I love you, Stacy. I love your charm, I love your zest for life, I love when your gentle side comes out. I think living on land would be worth it, if it was with you.”

Stacy stared at him, mouth gaping. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t lie, she was touched by Chase’s passion. And she loved him too. She loved his sense of humor, his kindness, his determination. But… “Chase, I…”

Chase’s face fell, picking up on her tone. “Do you not...feel…?”

“No, Chase, I love you.” She squeezed his hand. “But I’m seventeen. I-I know I like to do some things people would call ‘rebellious,’ but I know...I know I’m just seventeen. I still live with my mom. I still have to go to college. I can’t...I can’t commit to this. What if we found out we aren’t as good for each other? We’d have to separate, and you’d be left here, on land, where you don’t want to be, constantly hurting. I can’t do that to you, Chase. To either of us.”

Chase’s eyes dulled. The fins on the sides of his head seemed to droop.

Stacy smiled at him. “Hey...tell you what. Let’s meet up again in four or five years. We can meet here, on this beach, and see if anything’s changed.”

Chase bit his lip. He nodded, slowly at first, and then more enthusiastically. “Okay. Four or five years. We’ll meet up on the same day.” He smiled at her. “I’ll wait.”

“I’ll wait, too.” Stacy leaned down. “Chase, can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

She closed the distance, pressing her lips against his. They were wet, but otherwise, felt the same as ever. They lingered for a moment before both pulling away.

Chase smiled at her. “I’ll see you then,” he whispered.

Stacy picked up his cap, placing it on top of his head. “I’ll see you.” She smiled as well.

Chase pulled the cap down over his wet hair, backing away from her. He waved, and ducked underwater. His tail flipped up over the surface, and then he disappeared under the water with barely a splash.

[strawberryamanita]

alright, y'all, i'm gonna tell a story regarding racism and ignorance. it's gonna sound preachy and self-centered at first, but please hear me out until the end. CW: Mental Illness, Medication, Hate Crime, Death, Violence, Murder, Brief mention of Murder Victims.

so, a little over seven years ago now, i was in an AP US History class. ***anyone i went to highschool with knows where this is going, and i *beg* you to please not say the name of the victim or show his face in the comments. i know that sounds backwards and goes against the movement, but i am so damn triggered by that name and that image that it'll send me into an extreme fit of panic. if someone in the comments asks who it was, i give you permission to DM them about it; otherwise *please* show my nerves some mercy.*** anyway. i was in this History class, and i had already seen some horrid stuff, and it made me cry and i had to ask my Art teacher in the next class period for a moment or a cooldown hug. as you can see, my psyche is already fragile, and i don't respond as "maturely" as my classmates did to these things. and then came the day of reckoning. all i had to do was keep my head down and keep taking notes and drawing like i already was for ten more seconds -- but i guess fate told me to look at the screen, because i was transfixed by the image. paralyzed, almost. it needed to be seen, and it made me look and i did. no sort of frightening imagery had ever *hurt* me the way this one did. i react to my emotions very physically, and i remember being in pain while i was stuck in the image's tractor beam. my veins ached. my arms locked at the joints. this image NEEDED my attention. i am not exaggerating when i say that this image left me a different person than i was going into that classroom that morning. the image followed me everywhere i went. i became a mad prophet, tears streaming down my face as i relayed to every one of my friends the events of the story and how broken my mind felt. i remember breaking down in front of my brother, screaming about how heartless someone had to be to "drown a teenager"(yes, it's THAT event, PLEASE DON'T SAY HIS NAME OR POST HIS FACE IN THE COMMENTS, I *BEG* OF THEE); the victim was fourteen, and so was my brother. and, like, this physical reaction was so bad that my organs were starting to shut down: my body was growing cold, i couldn't digest food, i felt like i was dying. i remember my mom and her then-boyfriend sitting me down to calm me down with "Blazing Saddles", and while watching the movie quelled the horrors in the back of my mind, it was only for so long. i called my former therapist, who lived all the way in Wyoming at the time. i prayed to God, honestly and genuinely, not the way i do in church to humor my older relatives. my then-psychiatrist diagnosed me with OCD-induced PTSD -- a label i still don't feel like i deserve from something as benign as a photograph -- and prescribed me with Klonopin, which i still take for emergencies. i had to walk around my school high to the point where i couldn't control my legs just to get some relief from my now-scarred brain. i still sleep with a light on. i still see his face sometimes. i hate my History teacher for not giving me a proper warning beforehand and not giving me a proper apology afterwards. nobody should have to suffer the way i was, i wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. and then, thank goodness, it hit me. listen, i am white. i'm Irish, German, Polish and Slavic, and while back in the day none of those would've made me a proper white person, in 2020 i am white. i grew up very sheltered, my family did what they could to protect me from harm, and i don't even watch horror movies or go on rollercoasters because i know my heart can't take it. this sudden, extremely jarring exposure to something so viscerally human, so depressingly, saddeningly disturbing, so carnally horrific threw me into the deep end in a way that none of my other classmates had to worry about because they were probably exposed to it already -- especially my classmates of color. this was, without exaggeration, the first time i was hit with the reality of what it is to be black in America. i am completely serious -- feel free to laugh, i know it sounds absurd compared to the world we live in now. the harshest instance of violence towards a black person i had heard of then was MLK's murder. i was 17! it took that long for it to be spelled-out for me! the point of sharing my story is not to draw pity -- i did my grieving, i don't need a new shoulder to cry on, and i don't want to be seen as a hero because i had to spiral into complete hysteria just to understand that black Americans, as young as fourteen and even younger, live in a warzone. they have to think about being hurt at every fleeting moment of living in this country, and that the authorities will literally fight life and limb to justify their murder. that is *extremely* sobering. that History lesson ripped the rose-colored glasses right off my face, sat me down in a "Clockwork Orange" chair and made me understand. and honestly, it couldn't have happened at a more necessary time. this lesson was in 2013 -- right after Trayvon Martin, right before Michael Brown. i was thrown into reality right in the midst of all those police-issued atrocities, and while it didn't arm me or give me time to heal, at least it helped me understand what was now too loud to be ignored, at least for me. now, listen -- i still am enraged at my teacher for not warning me, and i still wish i was strong enough to hear about these tragedies to lend my black friends an ear. i had to be *mentally* hurt to understand how necessary it was to care about people who *physically* have it worse than i do. but compared to what they go through, i do still believe it's necessary that i was in class that day. i was going to say, "if it wasn't this event, it would've been some other murder that would've brought it to my attention"; but honestly, the imagery i was shown was worse than anything they'd probably show in a newspaper today -- and that's saying something. i want my experience to be a lesson to white people: educate yourselves, and use that knowledge for good. the world is not irredeemable, and it is not without hope; but it is in *bad* shape, and it has been for hundreds of years. unless you believe in reincarnation, as far as you know this is the only life you get (and if you DO believe in reincarnation, you already know that you have to be your best self to move into the next caste, so you don't have to listen to a white ex-gentile explain your faith to you); if you aren't doing everything you can to leave the world better than it was when you came into it, what has your life been for?

[carrietrekkie]

Exelor

Chapter II - Something is terribly wrong here.

Hey together!

Here is the next part! Now it gets much more intenser as the Enterprise landing party discovers something unbelievable..

Chapter I

Masterlist

Please leave me some fb if you didn´t mind. ;)

@bold-brave-courageous @allthetrek @reeselivesforeverinmyheart

The capital of Exelor was truly not a beautiful place. Ensign Freeman explained to me, it was exactly the standard construction of the Federation, although the planet was quite a pleasant place. I used the time until our arrival to make myself acquainted with the history of our mission aim. By that time, the colony had been formed because Exelor, a M class planet, had vast mineral deposits, a colorful cocktail of everything the Federation and especially Starfleet needed to function. This, however, was also the problem, the restrictions and rules that governed the trade and so they had won their independence to do and leave what they thought was right and of course most profitable. We arrived at a dead end, one-family houses stood around the insert, one as bleak as the other. "We should split up." Mayas nodded to me and I followed the doctor to one of the houses. One of our security guards followed us.

"Zimmer, may I ask you something?" "Of course, Mam." I swallowed slightly. "What do you think of this?" She drew a circle around her. "What do you mean?" "Isn´t it funny?" Mayas knocked softly on the door, gently pressed against it and it opened. "This is not the first medical crisis I'm experiencing, but here." She shook her head. "It's too quiet." "Well, people are sick or scared." Carefully, I followed her, my hand on my phaser, wondering for a moment about myself doing this. "I have no experience with the Andorian flu, but if it is only half as enjoyable as the Terran, I can understand that good." "Oh it is." She swiftly with her tongue. "Maybe I just need a shore leave." I gave her a smile, then she made me understand that I should go upstairs, she began to look around the lower floor. Slowly I went up the stairs and stopped. Again, it was terribly dismal, even my quarters on the Enterprise was personally furnished. A noise forced my attention to the left. "Hello?" I started moving and followed what I thought was crying. "Does anyone need help here?"

 My heart was beating to my throat, a strange feeling in my stomach and my hand closed so tightly around the handle of my phaser that it hurt. Carefully I circled around the corner and had to pull myself together, that I didn´t exhale too relieved. On a bed a young woman, maybe my age, crouched a baby in her arms. She cried and rocked her upper body slightly back and forth. "Oh God." I turned quickly. "Dr. Mayas!"

 In a few steps I was at the two, let my backpack from the shoulders and went to my knees next to the woman. "Can you hear me?" I put my gloved hand on her forehead. Even through the fabric I could feel that she was glowing. Her eyes were glassy, ​​her breathing was heavy.

"Do you tell me your name?" "Juliana Narrows." She was hotter. "Who?" "I'm Cathrin Zimmer from the USS Enterprise." I smiled at her, then turned to the baby. Also it was hot but fortunately still alive. "We are here to help you." "Go away." Powerless, she lifted her arm and tried to push me away. "The others have already said that and now!" She began to sob. "My baby dies because of the medicine they gave her!" "I really don´t want to hurt you!" I put my hands on her shoulders. "What did they give you?" "Those, the paramedics who were here yesterday. They gave her pills and then. "She swallowed hard again. "Then she got a fever, didn´t want to eat and nobody comes to help us!"

What the hell was going on here? I looked over my shoulder as I heard someone approach. Mayas came to us and her trained eyes surveyed the situation immediately. "Both?" She put down her bag and pulled the tricorder off her belt "At least I thought the kids had been vaccinated?" Narrows jerked back as Mayas began examining her. "Cathrin can you take the baby?" "Of course." I moved to the other side of the bed and stretched out my arms. "Juliana, give me the little one." "No, you take her away from me!" Desperately, she looked at me. "Please don´t take her away!" "I will not take her away from you." Carefully, I put my arms around the baby. "I'm just holding her until Dr. Mayas examined you.” I nodded encouragingly to her and after a few seconds of hesitation she gave me the baby. "Okay." I smiled at her and then looked at the baby. Something was wrong with this picture. "Okay, you have the flu." Mayas loaded a hypospray and pressed it to her patient's neck. "Then let's have a look at her baby." She lifted the tricoder, but I could see from her gaze that the same thoughts passed through her mind as mine. No doubt this baby was sick and we were just as certain that it didn´t have the same illness as his mother. Shortly thereafter, the scan confirmed our guess. "The baby doesn´t have the same." "How could that be?" I watched as the doctor checked the scans manually again. "Two epidemics at once? Moreover, two such similar? " "So you noticed." She didn´t look at me, instead she examined the kid's throat. "Explain."

"The infections are similar, but while she's clearly suffering from a respiratory infection, the baby seems to be suffering from something that attacks the immune system." "Go on." Now she looked at me briefly.

"And it's quick." I looked around for a moment, then at my supervisor. "She told me there was someone here yesterday giving medicine to the child so it wouldn´t get sick." "Oral vaccines are not uncommon." "I know, but if we assume it was not like that, it's something." "Infectious." She twitched her eyebrows. "That's a terrifying incubation period and an extremely fierce course." "What are we doing?" I looked at the heavily breathing baby in my arms. "We bring both to the Enterprise." "Doctor!" Chris's words came to my mind. "That doesn´t correspond to the orders we have." "I know." But before she could talk any further, our communicators beeped and since I had my hands full she answered. "Dr. Mayas here! " "Here Dr. Boyd, we'll go back to the Enterprise, inform your people and then get out of here." "Sir, we barely started and Zimmer and I came across inconsistencies here." "Yeah, so am I." Even through the bad connection, you could hear how Boyd hit this condition on the stomach. "We have slipped into something that we cannot judge. The order comes directly from the Captain."

"Understood." Mayas pressed a few buttons on her communicator. "Mayas to External Team 2 prepare for beaming, at your discretion." She looked at me and though I barely knew her, I knew what was going through her mind. "That means trouble Mam." I looked at the mother, then at the child in my arms, then at her again. "Fuck it."

"Dr. Mayas to Enterprise. "She grabbed her backpack and then helped the woman onto her shaky legs. "Signal to my position, four to beam."

******

"What am I going to do with both of you now?" Mayas and I exchanged a look, then we gazed at Dr. Boyd. Instead of looking at us, his eyes were fixed on the baby in his arms. "What are we going to do with the two, mmh?" He smiled at the child, then gave us his attention. "So, who had the idea?" He nodded toward the baby's mother, who slept in a biobed next to us.

"It was mine, Sir." Mayas straightened up a bit. "It is entirely my responsibility." "Zimmer?" Boyd glanced at me. "Sir, I supported this suggestion." Denial was useless anyway. Boyd arrived at the Enterprise two seconds after us and the gaze as he had seen us two with the two inhabitants of the colony had spoken volumes. I still wondered that he had not exploded right on the spot.

"Yes." He grinned at the baby again, the little girl just reached out her hand to him. "Yes, I would have bet on that." "Phil, what should we have done?" The doctor grabbed a PADD and stepped next to him. "Both were in a catastrophic state." "I know." Boyd beckoned me to him, then he hugged the baby in my arms and I started rocking it a bit. "All the patients I've seen in that short period have had either the mother's or baby's symptoms." He sighed, suddenly looking twenty years older. "No doubt she has the Andorian flu, but the kid." Boyd stroked the baby over its head. "The little girl has something completely different." "You know what it is?" I stared at him. "I have a guess, yes, and if that turns out to be true." Behind us, something beeped and Boyd went to the station. He paused for a few seconds, then turned.

"Phil?" Mayas also came up to him, read the results and turning also pale. "For the love of mother and child." "What's happening?" Dr. Boyd waved me over, called something up, and then looked at me.

"In the Federation, all kinds of biological weapons are banned, outlawed, and just a matter of researching is a serious crime." Suddenly, I felt suck, and it got worse when he called up the girl's blood count. "I suspected it from the first moment, but I was not given the opportunity to investigate." Boyd looked at me. "The little one is the proof. In addition to the flu, large parts of the population were poisoned with a bacterium. " I looked at the baby. "Must she die?" "No, we can handle that well, she's already fitter than when she arrived. It is a particularly perfidious epidemic. Intended to weaken, demoralize the population." "Do we have to worry about being infected?" Mayas was still absorbed in the notes. "It will not be transmitted through the air, that would also weaken the attacking troops." "But why do they do that?" The baby fell asleep slowly.

"Exelor is independent, we have no idea what they are doing or with whom they have gotten themselves." Boyd hurried to a com unit. "This could be anything from an attack to an accident or a trap." He pushed the button.

"Here Dr. Boyd connect me immediately with Captain Pike."

****

Pike closed his communicator, then took a deep breath, opened his mouth, then closed it again because he was literally missing the words. "Sir, surely that's a mistake?" Lt. Commander Dumar stared at him. "Dr. Boyd makes no mistakes. "Spock looked around. "Not in such things, anyway." "Bioweapons?" Dumar's eyes widened. "I have not heard of any case in which they were used. Not since the last World War. "

"We should not jump to conclusions." Pike looked at his officers. "This warfare agent was developed from a naturally occurring bacterium. Before imposing war crimes on the people here, we need to be sure that it's not just a chain of unfortunate coincidences. "

He hoped that they would buy it for him, because inside it seethed in him. If that proves true, then it wouldn´t matter if Exelor was a member of the Federation or not, those responsible would experience the full severity of the judiciary and it could also mean the end of the colony. Before Spock could object, or Dumar continued to speak quickly, he set off and headed for the governor's office. He ignored the panicked secretary, as well as the security guard, who for a moment thought he might face the Starfleet officers.

A look from Pike was enough and he changed his mind. Chris knocked, but didn´t wait for him to be called in, instead he pushed the door open and saw Sforza shoot up from his chair. "Captain Pike, what do you allow yourself?" "What I allow me, Governor?" Chris pulled himself up in front of him, a menacing glint in his eyes. If there was something he really didn´t like at all, it was when you approached him. "Think carefully what you want to audition for next, because you have no idea what kind of trouble you´re charging up here." Sforza's lips tightened, then he nodded to his completely disbanded assistant that she should leave him alone with the officers. As soon as she closed the door, he collapsed in his chair.

 "I already asked myself how long it would take you to notice." "Excuse me?" Dumar stepped out from behind the captain. "You knew about it?" "Commander." Chris glared at him, enough to put him in his place. "Sir." "Governor, you owe me an explanation and not just me, but Starfleet, the Federation." He propped himself up at the desk with one hand, the other pointed out toward the main street. "You´ve lured us here under false pretenses, you've taken advantage of a humanitarian crisis to pull Starfleet into something which is non of our business, and now you have to live with the consequences, Sforza!" Pike took a moment to breathe. "You have five minutes, then I will inform the High Command."

"You're clearly overstepping your competencies here Captain Pike!" Somewhere, Sforza found some rest of his authority, straightened up and tried to look Chris as angry as he did. "What would the Federation have done if we had officially asked them for help in a matter that we had ourselves incinerated?"

"They would have sent appropriate help." Spock fixed the politician. "Followed by an invasion fleet." "So you're thinking about us governor?" Dumar couldn´t stay quiet any longer.

"We're sitting here on one of the largest dilicium deposits in the entire quadrant, we've long since withdrawn from the influence of the Federation and Starfleet, and now we've got involved with the wrong people." Sforza sighed. "Yes, that's what some think about the Federation and there are a few who want to violently enforce their opinions and views. Most of the population, however, hopes that you are our salvation from a mess that we have not seen for some time. "

"With all due respect, Governor, we are not here to get you out of domestic chaos, that you have got themselves into trouble. We are here because you are fighting two diseases here, one of which represents a biological warfare agent that has been banned since the early days of the Federation. "Chris didn´t fail to notice that Sforza became even paler at these words than he already was.

"What do you mean?" "An infection with Siofra bacteria." Spock discarded a PADD on the desk. "These are the first analyzes of our chief physician. In fact, you have a threatening outbreak of Andorian influenza, but also an epidemic with those same bacteria that are not naturally occurring in this way. "

"Thanks, Mr. Spock." Pike nodded to him. "Well, I hear." "In everything that is sacred to me and to you, Captain Pike." Sforza looked at him and an unmistakable tingle in Chris neck told him that the next one was not good news. "I swear to you, I knew nothing about that." "Who is responsible for that?" He didn´t get the answer anymore. The next thing he heard was a gigantic explosion, then the city's big alarm, before the next few hours sank into blood, violence and chaos.

[vinodpriya]

Chapter 1: About Social Science

Photo by Kimberly Farmer on Unsplash

Ah! Social science! The subject I hated the most. I don’t know why, but I felt I was born to hate the subject. It was my destiny to hate it. Or something like that. But the teachers, oh Holmes, they were always so good that I always felt that, at least, I should study it for them. I believe that I always got the best of teachers available for Social Science. There are many interesting incidents related to the subject, especially during the 10th standard, when I was studying it for the last time.

To begin with, the most “ancient” incident which I can remember is during 7th standard. Well, we did not have only 1 S.Sc teachers that year. At first, the honour of teaching S.Sc to 7th D went to Dr. NSA (neither National Security Advisor nor National Security Agency). She had a PhD in Geography. I mean, how can a person be so tolerant, so as to complete a PhD in Geography. Come on, it’s not a joke, doing PhD and stuff like that.Well, after our Principal changed (Yes, our Principal also changed that same year. We’ll talk about her in later posts), she went through the qualifications of all the teachers. After going through the qualifications of Dr NSA, and she thought, “thodi padhi likhi hai, chalo isko 11th aur 12th class padhane ko de do.”   (She is a little bit educated, let her teach 11th and 12th standard).

Yes, thodi (a little). These were the exact words used by Dr. NSA when I asked her about this thing three years later, in 10th standard, when she had come to our class for an arrangement period.

Well, returning back to 7th class. After our summer vacations, our time-table was changed, as were many of our teachers.

Our new social science teacher was Ms R. Whatever she taught for the next two months is a mystery. Yes, it remained a mystery until I studied the chapters myself. Well, the thing was that she was pregnant, and was to deliver her baby in September, and hence she had to complete our syllabus in the next two months only. Now she didn’t teach us the chapters from the book, but made us write ‘Questions & Answers’ in our notebooks (after all, these Q-As were going to come in the exam), and explained the chapters in a comprehensive manner.

Here I would like to mention a small anecdote of class seventh Summative Assessment 1. Just before the social science exam, I fell ill. I literally cried a lot the night before the exam. It’s was not that I had not studied at all, but I had not been able to complete my syllabus, especially geography. Also, I couldn’t read my SSc book, which is a crucial thing to do before an SSc exam. The next day, in the examination hall, when we all were studying, I told some of my friends about my “grievances”. They comforted me about the exam and I told them, quite honestly, that I was not expecting to score above 80 out of 90 marks.

The exam paper came. Questions were quite ridiculous. Yes, they are always ridiculous for someone who does not know the answers. I specially remember one particular question. Perhaps the circumstances presented by the question will not be amiss here.

Q. What do you think about Delhi as the capital of India?

Thinking: Here is a gentle question of an irritating type. Clearly, a tough question then. It has just come from the tropics, for it is written in dark ink, and that is not the natural tint of its text, for majority of the paper is white. He has undergone hardship and sickness, as his haggard kind of questioning says clearly. His right hand has been injured. He holds it in a stiff and unnatural manner: bent like (?). Where in the tropics could a Social Science question written in English have seen much hardship and got its arm wounded? Clearly in India. The whole train of thought did not occupy a second. I then remarked I did not know the answer to the question.

(for those who haven’t read Sherlock Holmes, it is an excerpt from “A Study in Scarlet”).

I then proceeded to answer as follows:

Ans.

    The genuine part:

Delhi is the capital of India. It was named capital of India 1911 by King George of England.

It’s  area is about 4000 km2.

(I knew this because I had sometime checked it. Actually there was an article in the newspaper about good sci-fi movies and one movie involved a spaceship which had a diameter of 500 Km. I wanted to check whether this ship was bigger than Delhi or not)

Now the funny part:

It is a union territory.

But since it has a large population, it should now be made a state.

It has many tourist spots.

These are the points I could make out from my memory. Now, when I went to my bus, I took out ‘The Book of SSc’ and checked in the chapter ‘The State Government’ for the answer. It was there, a full-fledged, five marker answer; legitimate, elaborate, and complete. I repented about not reading the book, but alas, nothing could be done to stop the nature, or rather the answer sheet, from taking it course. I decided to let it go.

When the answer sheets were being distributed for reviewing by the students, I got really disheartened about how much I would have scored. Surprisingly I had scored 86 out of 90 marks. I couldn’t believe my eyes. When I set out to see how the hell that happened, for the first time in my life, I came across the true face of examination-checking in India. You can yourself calculate. I had a completely wrong answer to the above question, so I lost five marks, plus numerous small mistakes. Overall the totalling came out to be around 82 marks or so. I told our teacher about it. She took the paper and kept in the bundle, and said she would look to it. But I never got to know what happened to that. Oh! I forgot to introduce the new S.S. teacher that had come by then. She was Ms P. She was a 2008 pass-out from our school only, and had come to teach us now.

Ms R was a brilliant teacher. By brilliant, I mean literally a brilliant teacher. She had a unique way of teaching. Also, since she was not much older than us, she gave mouth thrashing answer to the misbehaviour of the mischievous children of our class. No, she did not use abusive language, but her subtle words were embarrassing enough.

Our eighth standard teacher was equally brilliant, Ms JS (not NodeJs or AngularJs). But she was quite serious, rather too serious, specially for a funny class like ours.

Ah! Finally the good tales begin. So here it goes. I was promoted to 9th-A, a Sanskrit section. Our S.Sc teacher was Mrs. LL. The funny thing was that she was actually known by this name, LL. At first some of my seniors told me that she is really a good teacher. But believe me, she wasn’t. She specialized in History, and consequently did not know how to teach other subjects. Trust me, she was really awful at Geography. She never completed her sentences, sought to teach only through presentations on smart board, made us write questions, but never clearly told us what the answers were. Here is a sample:

Well, you know, a piece from Indo-Australian plate came and stuck with our land, you know. (Making a collision kind of gesture through her hands). And then, you know….

Alas, we never knew. Now after completing three chapters in Geography and one in Economics, many children thought that they had had enough of her. They started a campaign. They wrote a letter addressing our in-charge to change our S.S. teacher because the current one was not good. Believe me, out of 48 students in the class, 33 signed. Of course, I didn’t, because I didn’t like to take part in such anti-teacher proceedings, because you never know what turn it might take on in future. The letter was sent twice. When Mrs LL came to know about this, she used to sarcastically remark on children yawning or talking in her class that

“Class mein sunna nahin hai, aur phir jab samajh nahin aata to pohunch jaate teacher change karvaane.”

(Don’t listen in the class, and when you don’t understand, you just go on trying to change the teacher.)

Photo by Andre Hunter on Unsplash

Well, our SSc teacher changed after summer vacations. It was Ms SL (not S.L. Loney, you dumb math enthusiasts).

She was a great teacher. Believe me. (Of course, you don’t have any other choice).

There is a particularly interesting incident related to Ms SL, which shows….. , well, nothing. As it happened, she was the mother of VM. I had known him for some time. But the major angle in this story is that he was a friend of some other students in our class.(No, he wasn’t my friend. I don’t make such friends). Going on, there was this chapter on ‘Peasants and Farmers’ in History. The marking for question and answers was going to start from the next day. But this VM told HT and PG that his mother was going to Goa the next day. As was expected from a friend, they believed him, and they did not bring their History books with them.

IN THE CLASS

Culprits: Ma’am, VM told us that you had gone to Goa. So we didn’t bring our books.

Executioner: Just think, if I had gone to Goa, wouldn’t I have taken VM with me?

I suppose silence will be good enough for the rest of the scene. Nothing happened. They were allowed to sit in the class, and as I had to go out of the class for some reason, I gave them my book.

Overall class 9th was the best class with reference to the horrid subject of Social Science.

And at last, here comes the best class of all.

Behold...

The Class 10th .

Now this year our teacher was the veteran teacher, the most senior one in the school at that time, Mrs SS1. She was quite good towards me in the starting of the year. But then I started taking some days off the school. I used to ask a lot of questions in her class. So did others. When the first Unit Test (UT) was held, she gave quite a scolding to our class, and told the class (and I felt she was staring towards me) not to disturb her while she was teaching  and ask the doubts later in the corridor. She felt her syllabus got behind the schedule because of this (which of course was not true). She said all this because we had performed  poorly in the UT.

Photo by Green Chameleon on Unsplash

Now there are numerous small insignificant incidents involving me and her, but let us just shift towards the best ones for the sake of your interest in keeping reading this chapter.

She had grown quite hostile towards me (I mean she used to be quite irritated by me). We used to have 2 UTs in each ‘Term’ (we used to have 2 ‘Terms’ in a year) out of which the better one would be considered for the final result. As a consequence, I had studied only for the first UT in the second term and had scored quite well in that exam. This exam used to be of 30 marks. During the second UT I did not study at all. Probably I just gave a small reading to the chapter. It was “Nationalist Movement in Indo-China”. It is one of the worst chapters in 10th class History textbook (THE WORST ONE was “Print Culture and the Modern World”).

I scored 23 out 30. I was actually quite shocked to see that I had score this much. But SS1 ma’am was not happy at all. I got quite a something we Indian students call as lecture. Then of course there was TM. He was just like me. He left no chance of pulling the leg of other students. At that time he was acting as what we call as “ghee in havan”.

He says, “Ma’am, he did not study because he had scored very well in the previous one and he knows only the better one will considered.” I looked at him like this.

And there you go. A little more lines of taunt, and finally I was released.

Now we also had a revision test. It went terribly bad. Again I had not studied for it as it was not going to be considered for the final result. The day I gave this test, RB1 (another student in my class) had some work with SS1 ma’am. It was probably mid-day. M1 sir (a fine-arts teacher) was present in the class. He asked me to take him to ma’am. I was walking casually. I tried not to look at RB1 as I disliked him very much. I went straight into the staff room. SS1 ma’am was sitting there checking papers! Well I did not quite observe it at first. But there was the bundle on her table on one side and there was a paper turned upside down in front of her with her signatures in the end. It meant that that paper had been checked quite recently. I raised my neck to see whose paper was it. Holy Holmes! It was my paper. How could I have such an ill-luck.

Well, SS1 ma’am started talking to RB1, and I said to myself, “bhag le beta yahan se” (run off from this place, you scum).

I crept out quite stealthily, but alas, as I was just going to open the door, I heard a sound saying “_____” in a stretched manner. I turned. No doubt I was being called for my execution. And then I was given quite a lecture again on me not studying Social Science. But there was Ms MM1 sitting there alongside SS1 ma’am. She asked me what was I planning to take in 11th, and when I told I was going to take science, she patted me and said to SS1 ma’am while laughing “chhod de na yaar ise” (leave him dear). Well I promised her that I will study for the finals sincerely.

(Note: Ms MM1 taught chemistry to 11th and 12th class, and  I didn’t know back then she would be my Chemistry teacher in 12th class. It’s not good to talk of her here, she deserves one whole chapter herself.)

Our school used to organise a “havan” for 10th leaving students before the finals. After the havan, our teachers used to shower us with flower petals as a form of blessing. When SS1 ma’am came, she threw the flowers forcefully at me while yelling “sabse ganda paper kiya hai tune _______” (you have performed the worst in the paper). Of course that wasn’t true. I was bad, but I was not that bad. Everyone started laughing, but, BG ma’am  (our class teacher back then) heard that. And the glare she gave me! I would never forget those eyes. Well I assured her that I would perform well in the finals.

There were some more incidents which took prior to the above mentioned one, though they were less humorous. Once SS1 ma’am was teaching the chapter “Print Culture And Media”. There was a section about scribes who used to copy the books in “beautiful handwriting”. Well, I asked ma’am from where the scribes got their copies from. And there you go. Again I was terribly mocked by her. Whenever I was absent (yes, never when I was present in the class), she used to say in the class “Chalo achcha hua aaj _____ nahin aaya. Itne faaltu saval poochhta hai ki ma’am suraj east se kyun nikalta hai, ya fir hum breakfast subah hi kyun karte hain”, (it’s good that _____ is not present today. He asks such stupid questions like why does the sun rise from the east, or why do we have breakfast in the morning only), though I certainly never asked such questions.

Once SS1 ma’am asked our class who would like to explain the chapter “Transportation” to the class. NB1 (one of my best and oldest friend) raised his hand. He came in front of the class and started explaining the chapter. I and my friends left no chance of pulling each other’s legs.  I repeatedly asked NB1 questions which were quite irritating. Well, he answered them. Then ma’am stopped him and asked someone else to continue where NB1 had left. I went there. I started explaining the chapter now. Now, it was NB1’s chance. He stared putting questions to me. After answering some questions, I felt quite irritated (add to that not knowing the answers), I yelled at him to sit down, and asked him to come to me after the class to take his doubts, and told him harshly that I had to complete my syllabus. (The funny thing here is that SS1 ma’am used to say the same lines whenever she got irritated by the questions, but the difference is that she used to know the answers). Everyone enjoyed this thing, including SS1 ma’am. She said to me “very good beta. Jaa baith jaa” (very good child, now go and sit down).

I did not have Social Sciences as my subject in higher classes (thank God!). Although I used to meet all the teachers now and then. SS1 ma’am retired from her job after that academic year, though she kept visiting the school because of her Rotoract-club duties. Once our class was in the basement for our Computer Science practical, and there she was! I don’t know why, but nostalgia overpowers me whenever I see someone I haven’t seen in a long time. So there we (I and RM1) to go and greet her. Our CS teacher NA1 also came out of her lab and they hugged (apparently they were friends!). SS1 ma’am says to NA1, “Sabse achchhe bachche the meri class ke. Bade pyaare bachche hain!” (they were the best students of my class. They are just lovely kids). And I thought “Oh really???? Oh reallyyyyy??? Why didn’t you never said this in class?”

And as promised, here’s Today’s Music Momento (yeah! I am not calling it memento! not in this life...)

[colorofmymindposts]

The Deviance of Two English Gentlemen Chapter Three

Chapter Title: The Unyielding Interim

Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Ritchie films)/Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mary Morstan/John Watson Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mary Morstan Rating: Teen and Up Status: Incomplete, chapters are posted weekly Word Count: 1514 for this chapter, 4291 for the entire work thus far Summary: Set post Game of Shadows. When Sherlock Holmes is given a case by none other than Mrs. Watson, he has no idea that he cannot fix the unsolvable for the couple. Intimate truths are exposed in the process, leaving all three irrevocably changed. Tags: Case Fic, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Secrets, Bickering Notes: The entire work can be read here on ao3. You can also read chapter one here and chapter two here. Note that this is not Brit-picked, but I tried my best.

Story:

The next two weeks passed in such an odd succession that Holmes began to wonder whether he was indulging too much in the comfort of his seven percent solution. After that first night, Watson had not come down for many hours, not until late afternoon, all dressed in clothes appropriated from Holmes’ wardrobe, though neither of them addressed the subject. He had given a curt thanks and goodbye before departing.

The next time Watson deigned it worthy of his time to visit, Holmes had just finished conducting his experiment on the potency of various chloroform formulas. When Watson burst into his rooms, unannounced, he scolded Holmes for not leaving the flat in a span of time which had lasted four days apparently. In a fit of frustration, Watson left in search of food, insisting Holmes was going to “lose half a stone at this rate” if he continued in his totally reasonable, reclusive behaviours. Later, they chatted over dinner about the day’s newspaper, Holmes’ findings in the last seventy-two hours of intense dedication to the differences between trichloromethane and ether while Watson contributed an anecdote here or there about an unruly patient in the clinic.

They did not talk about Mary. They also did not speak of Watson’s domestic, precipitating him to storm off and drown his sorrows in cheap ale. Holmes had suspicions, however, even if he didn’t voice them.

One possibility was infidelity. “Three continents Watson” would imply to a simpleton that he was dissatisfied in marriage, but Holmes knew his Watson better. A man as loyal as he, who followed Holmes into the thoroughfare of the European criminal underworld with revolver in hand and no questions asked, would not be a husband who would lie with another woman. Especially not when Watson was clearly enamored by his Mary’s charms and said wife was understandably in love with Watson, a phenomenon Holmes could not explain but inherently knew was truth.

The second situation was problems with money, hypothetically. For some unknown reason, Watson had adopted a rather Draconian ideal of finances and women’s place within that (being nonexistent) much to Holmes’ chagrin, particularly as he knew undoubtedly Mrs. Watson would manage transactions far better than that gambling boy. But for such a violent reaction to occur those six nights ago, when Holmes had repeatedly criticized Watson’s handling of his funds in the past, this hypothetical seemed, just as the previous one, highly unlikely.

The third scenario Holmes could not feasibly wrap his head around without feeling prone and ill inside. Simply put, the consummation of marriage...was known to have its difficulties. The desired product of a match between man and wife as desired by a Christian God would only solidify the reality of Watson’s world apart from Holmes’ own isolated one, never again to amalgamate together but at short, infrequent intervals. If this were really the case though, some kind of disagreement had brewed between the Watsons, interrupting idyllic sentiment leftover from honeymoon bliss. The baseness of sex could very well have that effect on a standard English gentleman and lady.  

Watson’s eyes had been upon him for some time, he could tell. He met his friend’s gaze head-on, finding concern and something else indescribable mingled in between. Upon reflection, he should make a study of Watson’s eyes, if nothing else than for his private records.

“You haven’t spoken in two hours,” Watson remarked casually.

Holmes blinked rapidly, readjusting to the settings. Seated in his chair, tea gone cold. Disposed of his waistcoat, Watson slouched in what was once his designated chair, brown suspenders rolling off his shoulders slowly but surely, his top button undone. Thoroughly distracting. Holmes sniffed the air.

“Have you been smoking?” He inquired, recognizing the scent as that of a Cuban cigar circa 1889, approximately.

“Yes, I thought it might make you more alert. I fear it may have made you fall deeper into that stupor of yours you just came out of,” Watson admitted as his fingers idly tapped against the cigar resting in the ashtray on the table. “What has addled your brain so?”

“Watson, you know my methods. My periods of introspection provide clarity to my work. My thoughts are in perfect working order.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed back. After straightening his braces, Watson began to loop his arms through his coat previously draped across the back of his chair. “Perhaps I should leave you to your thoughts, in that case.”

“Back home again?” Holmes mused.

Watson, as ever, corrected him. “To Mary.”

Perhaps the lovers’ quarrel was not as serious as he supposed at all. Nonetheless, he felt he had to offer: “My door is always open.”

An affirming smile answered him with a quality of sadness to it, the only thing preceding Watson’s familiar tread on Baker Street.

Another week was to be endured before Watson’s presence graced him once again. In this particular instance, Watson seemed more at ease. He suggested to Holmes that they go for a stroll in the city. Watson always liked it when Holmes would make and share observations of passersbys, one of their favourite activities to engage in from the earliest point in their friendship. If Holmes himself was in worse spirits he would have refused such a triviality, but knowing it might help his friend, he acquiesced cordially to the offer, fortunate enough to still spend time with the man as he was.

There was nothing out of the ordinary at first. An oversized clerk bumbled down Manchester Street obviously having taken too late a lunch break; an older American couple conversed loudly about the spectacles and filth of London to distract from the all too personal topic of the wife’s dying father; a paperboy shouted the newest headlines, limping as he did so due to a factory accident which likely cracked most of the bones in his left foot that never healed properly. Watson smiled along to most of these descriptions but frowned at the last, almost bent on offering his services to the boy, but by Holmes’ observations the accident had occurred years ago and no doctor’s attention would help him now.

At last, they reached Hyde Park, a perfect spot for observation of both animals and nature alike. As it was a Sunday, many families were out and about, relieved to send their children to attend to their own amusements. Their shrill cries and laughter was certainly no symphony to Holmes, but Watson appeared slightly perturbed, glancing at his fob-watch for the time and requesting that perhaps they roam somewhere else. Holmes himself was growing tired of this charade his friend was putting on and scoffed loudly.

“Really, you could just tell me that you prefer the company of your wife to my own, and we’d be done with it,” he ground out, kicking his one boot against the pavement as he did so.

“What?” Watson had the audacity to appear flummoxed. His attempts at treating Holmes with decency were driving the detective mad.

“I know you’re inventing excuses to be around me now that you’re married and yet still feel obligated to maintain our partner—pardon me, friendship,” explained Holmes, in a manner not unlike when he told Lestrade off for one of his idiotic theories. “But you’re bored because there are no cases for me to amuse you with, so you’re regretting the whole outing. I’d prefer that you just be honest with me instead of relying on me to deduce it for the both of us.”

He refused to look Watson in the eye after his statement and proceeded down the footpath without his friend in tow. It thus surprised him as he was about to turn out of the park when running footfalls made their distinct approach. Watson’s all too familiar ragged breaths were there behind Holmes, on his neck, and then he was being spun around by his shoulders, Watson having a firm grip on both his arms and a dazzling intensity in his gaze.

“For once Holmes you have no idea what you’re driving at, but my problems with Mary actually have nothing to do with you this time. I can’t explain. It wouldn’t be right to you or Mary—”

“Sirs!” The voice of a young lady, no older than in her twenties with a crying babe in her arms. “Please, if you’ve anything to spare good sirs, my child’s life be saved. You’re honorable gentlemen, fathers? Think of the poor children, gentlemen.”

Damn her timing, just as he was getting something out of Watson. Though much as Watson’s readers of The Strand might have insisted otherwise, he was not heartless.

“3 shillings, madam,” he said as he withdrew the change from his pocket into her grateful outstretched hand, pins and pricks visible on her fingertips. A factory seamstress then, paid a pittance for her work.

She issued great thanks, politely scurrying away in the opposite direction from whence they came. He likely would have mused more on her upbringing, physicality and motivations too, had Watson not suddenly fallen out of consciousness into his arms, helpless as a babe.

[rewrite-the-wrongs]

introductions / howdy, pardner

My first short story was about a fishboy and his human best friend. They battled a mutant piranha (whose name I think may have been Mutant Piranha, such was the monumental daring of my creative endeavor) and his army, who were out to destroy a mountain that held a whole planet together. The boys won singlehandedly, because scale was apparently a bit of a mystery to me.

This was the second grade. My teacher--who held me every day as I cried for weeks, confused and miserable and stranded in the throes of my parents’ divorce--understood before I did that I create to a ploddingly slow and steady drumbeat. A sentence is always so much more in my head than I’m able to let out, at first; I have to pore over it again and again, fleshing and flourishing (and often correcting) it, the same way I often have to reread paragraphs or pages or whole books to truly capture their meaning. In a word processor, this back-and-forth is as easily said as it is done; on double-wide ruled paper with dashed-line handwriting guides, the task is magnitudes more time-consuming, especially for somebody as messy as I am. So, while nearly everybody else played at recess on the sandlot and the jungle gym around us, a select few stragglers laid our reading folders on our laps and finished our stories.

My villain, that dastardly Mutant Piranha, found himself in prison at the story’s close. Awaiting trial, I guess; I never ventured that far ahead, seeing the big fishy bastard for a coward. “When no one was looking, he stabbed himself.” That’s the last line, stuck in my memory, not for its own sake, but for my poor teacher’s horrified face as she read my final draft there on the playground.

A mom volunteered to type up the class’ stories and get them printed and bound. For years afterward I reread that collection, always proud to have written the second-longest piece therein. I felt the weight of the pages, inhaled the tiny but acrid breeze that came from rapidly leafing through them. Knew it was a whole smattering of worlds inside, that one of those worlds was wholly mine, and I had the power to show it to people however I wished. Yes, I thought, I want this.

*

I’ve been introduced to writing many times over, by many people. Don’t get me wrong--I nightowled the first several chapters to many half-baked novel concepts all through my youth. But teachers have a way of showing a thing to you from new angles.

The first person to impact me as such was a high school teacher who was essentially given carte-blanche to construct a creative writing workshop in the English curriculum. The first semester was structured--you practiced poems, short fiction, humor and essay writing, drama, the gamut. Every semester after, the carte-blanche was passed on: A single assignment due a week, each a single draft of a poem or a minimum of two pages’ worth of prose. Forty-five minutes a day to work, and of course free time at home. By the time I graduated, I’d finagled my schedule such that I was spending two periods a day in the computer lab, and several hours after school every day working the literary arts magazine before I went home to get the rest of my homework out of the way and write some more..

My next big influence came in the form of  a pair of writers who taught fiction at my university, a married couple. One had me print stories and literally, physically cut them up section-by-section as a method of reworking chronologies. Told me stories happened like engines or clocks or programs--pieces that meshed differently depending on how they were put together, rules that held each other in place. The other showed boundless confidence in me, listened happily to some older students who recommended I be brought on board for a national arts mag. They both encouraged me toward grad school, but toward the end of my junior year I began to stumble, and by senior year I was, to be frank, a drunken asshole. Time I could be bothered to set aside for writing began to dwindle. I limped through the editorship with the help of my extremely talented, utterly more-than-worthy successor--and come to think of it, I’ve never truly thanked her. Maybe I’ll send her that message, now that I’m feeling more myself.

*

On feeling more myself:

That drunken rage was brought on by a myriad list of factors, the primary ones being 1) I am the child of recovering alcoholics, and our inherited family trauma runs deep, 2) An assault that will likely be mentioned no further from hereon in, as I have reached a solid level of catharsis about it, 3) Some toxic-ass relationship issues, and 4) I was a massive egg and had no idea (or, really, I had some idea, just not the language or understanding or even the proper empathy to eloquently and effectively explore it).

I had a recent relapse with drinking, technically--a mimosa at Christmas breakfast at my partner’s parents’ home--but I’m not honestly sure I can call it a legitimate relapse. I’m not in any official self-help group, I’ve never engaged in the twelve steps or a professional rehabilitation. I had a very wonderful therapist for a few years but reached a point at which I could not pay her any longer and we parted ways--I miss her dearly, as she truly became my friend and confidante; she was the first person I came out to, and very well-equipped to handle it, lucky for me--but I’m still on behavioral medication. That tiny smidgen of alcohol pushed my antidepressants right out of my brain, and I became terribly anxious and angry and sad all at once, and briefly lashed out during a conversation with my partner behind closed doors. Not nearly the lashing out I’ve released in the now-distant past--more on that maybe-never, but who knows, as I am obviously a chronic over-sharer.

Frankly, I don’t deserve my partner. She endured my past abuses, told me to my face I had to be better, and found it in herself to wait for me to grow. She’s endlessly and tirelessly supportive of me. She sat with me to help me maintain the nerve to start this blog tonight. I came out to her as a trans woman just under a year ago, now, and I’m happier than ever, and we communicate better than ever. Our relationship is, bar-none, the healthiest and stablest and happiest I’ve ever been in.

So, naturally, I apologized fairly quickly at Christmas, and continuing where I’d left off at two and a half years, decided I’m still solid without booze.

If we’re all being honest, though (and I’m doing my best to be one hundred percent honest, here, though I will absolutely be censoring names because no shit), I still smoke way too much fuckin’ weed. High as balls, right now. 420 blaze it, all day erryday, bruh. That self-medicated ADHD life. I should be on Adderall and not antidepressants, probably, but it’s been a while since an appointment and psychiatrists are expensive, so I’m at where I’m at for now. Sativas help a lot. It helps with the dysphoria, too.

I don’t have a legal diagnosis for gender dysphoria, but tell that to my extreme urge to both be in and have a vagina. I’m making little changes--my hair, an outfit at a time, no longer policing how I walk or run or how much emphasis I put on S sounds. If I manage to come out to my parents sometime soon--and it feels like that moment is closer every day--maybe I’ll tell y’all my real, full chosen name. For right now, call me Easy.

*

Anyhow. My goals here are pretty simple:

1) Share words, both those by people I like/admire/sometimes know! and occasionally words I’ve made that I like. See the above screenshot from my notes app. Steal some words if you want, but if you manage to make money off some of mine, holler at ya gurl’s Venmo, yeah?

2) Discuss words, how they work, and how we create them, use them, engage with them, and ultimately make art of them. I am not a professional linguist, but I went to undergrad for creative writing, so, hey, I’ll have opinions and do my best to back them up with ideas from people smarter than I am.

3) Books! Read them, revisit them, quote them, talk about them, sometimes maybe even review them, if I’m feeling particularly bold. No writer can exist in a vacuum, and any writer who insists they don’t like to read is either a) dyslexic and prefers audiobooks or b) in serious need of switching to a communications major (no shade, but also definitely a little shade @corporate journalism).

5) I added this last, but I feel it’s less important than 4 and does not deserve bookend status, and I am verbose but incredibly lazy, so here I am, fucking with the system. Anyway: Art! Music! Video games! I fucking love them. I’ll talk about them, sometimes, too. Maybe I’ll finally do some of the ekphrastic work I’ve felt rattling around in my brain for a while now. Jade Cocoon 2′s Water Wormhole Forest, looking right the fuck at you.

6) Ah, shit, I did it again. Oh well. Last-but-not-last: This is obviously, in some ways, a diary, or a massive personal essay. I will sometimes discuss people, places, or experiences that have informed my work just the same as other people’s art has.

4) Be an unabashed and open Trans woman. TERFs, transphobes, ill-informed biological essentialists not permitted. Come at me and my girldick and prepare to be dunked on and subsequently shown the door via a swift and painful steel-toed kick in the ass. Everybody who doesn’t suck, if I screw up on any matter of socio-ethics or respect for diversity, please feel free to correct me.

*

Punk’s dead, but we’re a generation of motherfucking necromancers. Be gay, do crime, fight the patriarchy, and fart when you gotta. May the Great Old Ones select you to ascend to a higher plane and learn the terrible truths of existence.

Much love--

Easy

[scripttorture]

Would treating a prisoner like an animal (limiting clothing, making them wear a collar, sleep in a cage, eat bland food out of bowls on the floor, and crawl everywhere) have any long term physical affects on the prisoner? Or could it be done purely as humiliation so long as the captors are being careful not to physically harm the person? If it would cause harm, would you qualify it as visible or clean torture?

Yesthis would cause someone harm.

However-there’s a huge amount of difference in what ‘like an animal’can imply.

Let’s…take dogs because Westerners seem to like them a lot. It’s notuncommon for me to hear about people treating their dogs like kidshere. An older couple I know has a Labrador and it’s hardly everleft alone, lavished with attention and toys. They never hit it orraise their voices and it’s remarkably friendly well trainedanimal.

Icontrast this to some of the dogs I saw growing up at home. It wasextremely common for animals to be hit and they were often mistreatedin other ways. There was huskey kept in a compound near us. A huge,furry, arctic creature that needed to be walked at 4-5am because theheat easily reached 30-45oCduring the day. There was a ‘puppy’ that a family friend found onthe streets. It wasn’t fully grown and was bigger than me, evenwhen starving. It’s ears had been clipped to erect points. It hadlikely been breed to attack humans.

WhatI’m getting at here is that there’s a good chance ‘like ananimal’ means lessharm to you then it does to me. And thank you for giving me someexamples of what you want it to mean, that’s very helpful.

There’sa bit of debate about what counts as ‘physical’ injury in thiscontext.

Thesymptoms torture causes are a result of measurable physical changesin the brain. I tend to talk about this as psychological damagebecause I think that’s the terms most writers and people wouldunderstand it most easily. Butit’s causedby physical injury.

Infact O’Mara describes it as a form of organ failure. And this is aguy who specialises in neuroscience. Which I feel gives a lot ofweight to that description.

WhatI’m driving at here is that you could argue, based on soundscientific study and the opinion of experts, that any tortureincluding ‘humiliation’ causes profound physical injury.

It’sjust not the kind of injury we (the general public) are used totreating as physical injury.

Buthow visible and obvious the damage would be probably depends on howlong this goes on for.

Continuallycrawling would cause joint injuries and repetitive strain injuries.If it went on for long enough it could effect the structure ofskeletal muscles and make it difficult for the character to walkupright. It could even effect the shape of the bone.

AndI think a lot of the injuries from this scenario would be a bit likethat: obvious due to expression and movement rather than obvious inthe sense of visible scarring.

Itwouldn’t necessarily be obvious what the causeof these differences was.

Soa character seeing a survivor that had been kept like this forseveral years would probably see something was ‘wrong’. They’dsee a character who struggles to stand, struggles to walk. They mightnotice behaviours to do with sensory issues- the survivor mightfidget a lot, pick at clothes, they might layer on a lot of clothes(to compensate for feelings of cold or physical discomfort). Theywould probably appear physically unhealthy, malnourished, pale andill. There might be small injuries, bruising, sores and patches ofirritated skin.

Dependingon the observer they might read those signs as symptoms of physicalillness or mental health problems, or poverty ratherthen systematic abuse. Or they might just not notice, especially if asurvivor is trying to conceal their impairments. For example if thesurvivor knows they can’t stand upright and walk unaided they mightchoose to remain seated through the entire interaction.

Youcould argue that that is a clean torture. The injuries are notvisibly obvious. They’re not injuries that the average person onthe street would see and think ‘that’s torture, no argument’.

Youcould also argue it’s a scarring torture. Because the injuries arethe sort of things that courts see as ‘provable’. They’re alsoinjuries that are unlikely to be caused in combination by anythingotherthen abuse.

I’llcontrast that with some things that are definitely clean tortures togive you an idea what I mean. The swelling and sores stress positionsoften cause can alsobe caused by disease, malnourishment and inactivity. Proving in courtthose injuries are from torture means ruling out every other possiblecause. And the obvious signs of starvation can be treated similarly:extreme weight loss can be due to disease and stress.

Atorture survivor can be seen to be chronically malnourished anddangerously underweight butthat still isn’t necessarily court-quality ‘proof’ they weredeliberately starved. Because it could be due to so many othercauses.

Ithink it would be a good idea to cycle back to the first question nowbecause I haven’t quite covered all the possible injuries this kindof abuse could cause.

Limitingclothing can easily become a temperature torture and lead tohypothermia. Especially in a cold climate or if the victim is wet forany reason.

Constantlywearing a collar can increase the risk of strangulation. If thecharacter isn’t usually restrained using the collar then I thinkthe likelihood of death is pretty low. But it’s there and it’sworth mentioning. If they’re restrained using the collar, ie aleash connected above their head, then there’s a pretty high riskof accident strangulation and death.

There’sa reason that people using collars and leashes in a BDSM contextusually don’t leave restrained partners alone.

Cages,like crawling, can have serious long term effects on a person’sability to move normally. Ifthey’re too small.

Picturewhat you had in mind. If the character can’t lie flat, stretch outtheir limbs and stand up straight then it’s probably too small. Ifthey’re lying down inside with their legs and arms bent at alltimes that’s going to combine with the crawling to effect theirmovement and muscles in the long term.

Ithinkthis damage isn’t permanent (I’m not a doctor, double check bylooking up repetitive strain injuries). I believe it can be treatedwith physiotherapy and gradual recovery of full mobility would bepossible.

Thecombination of limited clothing (with the possible temperaturetorture that means), the cage and crawling means that I think longterm joint problems and chronic pain in the joints would be prettylikely here.

Thelack of clothing combined with the cage could also lead to sleepdeprivation which can cause a lot of long term problems. Youcan read about it here.

Thefood couldresult in undernourishment but wouldn’t necessarily do so.

Whenpresented with bland and unappealing food- well people can startstarving themselves. Whichis also incredibly bad for people.

Thiscombination of tortures isn’t necessarily lethal. It can be,especially over a period of years, but if the captors are trying tokeep the victim alive then I think that would be possible with littleeffort.

Butthey would cause a lot of long term problems, physical as well aspsychological. Sleep deprivation (a possible effect here) can causeheart problems in the long term. Long term starvation, even at a lowlevel, can cause problems with the immune system making disease andinfection more likely.

Ithink joint pain would still be pretty likely if a character was keptlike this for a month. Over the same period consistently poor sleepincreases the likelihood of a huge range of health problems.

I’dalso suggest thinking about the hygiene facilities in your set up.Because the less provision for that there is the more likely deathfrom disease is going to be; it’s the combination of poor sleep andpoor eating both suppressing the immune system while the character isexposed to pathogens.

Soif you’re picturing this as something the character is trapped infor a prolonged period think of a way to deal with waste.

Ihope that helps. :)

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[theveryworstthing]

happy easter its time for a cheery ask about baby buns.

this ask is by itself because i went off on a lore tangent and wrote a lot. :(

Medical progress has made it so infant mortality is way down from what it used to be, but that doesn’t mean rabbits don’t lose babies. Naming and lullabies are actually holdovers from the days when infant mortality was higher.

There are some lullabies that function similarly to spirit calls called kindala, or kindle songs. Kindling is what rabbits call the act of giving birth, and kindala are basically sung to remind the bab’s spirit that they’ve already settled in the physical realm and there’s no backing out now. These songs were created by a musically inclined doctor long ago, who sang them when he had to watch over dying patients. They were adopted by the midwives he worked with and the children brought up in that warren eventually passed them down to their children. They’ve since spread across the island and though their origin is less fantastical than much of the island’s history, kindala are one of the more beloved traditions. Today they’re even used sarcastically as wake up calls for heavy sleeping rabbits.    

Rabbits name every kit. Yes, even the ones that obviously won’t make it. They don’t name miscarriages, abortions, or stillbirths (they don’t have concrete names before hand at all actually) because they aren’t considered fully formed soul housing yet, but if you make it out professor uterus’ wild ride alive then you’re Alive and you get a name. Not giving your kid a name because you don’t want to get attached is just seen as you being a coward. That bab is willing to at least try to live, and yeah, being alive might not be a sustainable goal for them but for real? is it for anybody??? They at least showed up, maybe meet them halfway yeah? Make the tiniest effort to congratulate them on making it to level: Person. Because that’s what a birth name is to rabbits, your first prize of perhaps the only win you will ever have. A sign that the world, despite all evidence, wants you here. You can change that name later or throw it away completely, but you’ll always have that first win.

Also if you don’t name your child, other things will.

And Finders Keepers.

Now about infant mortality.

Cold babies are dead babies for most things but rabbits especially, so making sure kits don’t go through big temperature shocks is important. So much so that in the first few days/weeks, parents take kits out of their nest only when necessary and only take them above ground if there’s life threatening danger. All cuddling, feeding, and diaper business happens in or close to the nest. The only time you’ll see rabbits actively carrying newborn kits around is if 1: the whole family needs to suddenly travel, 2: the kit is sick with something contagious or is too delicate to otherwise leave with it’s siblings, or 3: the litter was super small. 3 kits is the lowest number of babies rabbits find suitable for keeping each other warm in a nest. Only children or twins get bundled up together and carried around close to the chest of an available adult.

Feeding can be a problem. If the birth mother is malnourished or the litter is huge then there might not be enough milk to go around. First time moms might also be slow to make milk or barely make any at all. These problems aren’t usually that serious since rabbits rarely feed their kits right after birth anyway. That’s a day after thing. And if they live in a warren they can usually find someone to be a wet-nurse for them. Formula exists but again, if they live in a warren there’s usually someone around with spare milk so they don’t need it very often.

Most birth defects are non-lethal (with quick and proper medical care) but if a kit is born without horns its probably a goner. Missing horns means missing pieces of skull (similar in looks to encephalocele, which can also be a very rare thing) and while there is a possibility that their skull will safely fuse together later before horrible damage occurs, those odds are…garbage. Everything else is just regular baby sickness stuff. Sometimes a bab will get a spontaneous terrible fever, sometimes they go impossibly quiet, sometimes a nest is ill-kept and attracts flies and maggots.

Sometimes a kit will just…thrash and scream until they’re too exhausted to move. This is reasonably rare but when it happens they gotta be taken out of the nest. Otherwise they could cause injury or even fear death to their siblings. No one really knows why it happens but its difficult to manage as the only treatment is to isolate them and ride out these days long fits. If they live through it they’ll be fine but damage to the vocal chords can be permanent. Kits like this are called Owl Tongued and some say its the sign of a particularly powerful mage. Mostly this is a joke because mages have to really work out the ‘rules’ of the world to make magic work properly and these kits supposedly saw the rules and got. Real Pissed.

Additional baby facts: Crowded warrens can contribute to infant mortality since there’s a higher chance of food shortage and the spreading of disease.

Kits with midwife powers are hardier against the cold, which makes their earlier wandering outside the nest (mostly)survivable. Their siblings, however, are probably normal dang rabbits so this is Bad, as dumb babies don’t think about all the bedding they’re messing up/cold air they’re letting in.    

Rabbits and hares might seem weirdly standoffish to their newborns compared to mainlanders because of their nesting practices. Since parents disturb the nest as little as possible in those first few weeks and baby buns only need to eat once a day if breastfed, it can seem like they leave them alone way too much. There’s usually someone always listening out for them when the parents have to go be people for extended periods of time though. Often its an older family member or neighbor that doesn’t mind staying in all day but in some places (mainly single family burrows or mainland housing where its more difficult to peek into someone’s house) employ midwives that pass by the residence and use their powers to make sure the proper amount of babs are alive and well inside. These midwives are the equivalent of nannies, checking on several nests in their area throughout the day and going in to administer aid if they feel a disturbance. Besides these watches, parents will also sit in the nest during feeding time and talk to their kits constantly if they’re close by.

Rabbits don’t usually get adopted out until they’re able to leave the nest. So like, three weeks to a month. If they’re taken away from their siblings earlier, then their adoptive parents have to do the aforementioned constant bundling and snuggling.

[peepingtoad]

¬ romance headcanons. repost; do not reblog!

name:  Jiraiya nickname:  Ero-Sennin, Jira, Raiya, and probably a whole host of others he doesn’t know about.  gender:  Cis male romantic orientation:  Yes sexual orientation:  Yes

preferred pet names:  He likes anything, really. Anything is fine with him, even if it’s mildly insulting, because someone cared enough to give him it. He’ll try and get creative, funny and oddly specific when thinking of pet names for others. They usually end up being more like titles.

relationship status:  Almost always ‘painfully single’ or ‘it’s complicated’

favorite canon ship:  Uhhh. The unrequited love towards Tsunade and how he deals with that is something I love, to be honest, as much as I ship them being happy together. I guess that’s as close to a purely canon ship as we get with him!

favorite non-canon ship:  Sannin OT3 (though is that not basically canon pff), Jira/Oro and Jira/Tsu. Those are my big ones that I came into this loving, tbh, also give me a Sakumo or someone else similarly aged and male for young man Jiraiya to explore his bisexuality with. Like, gimme. Hit me up with that shit. Even though the Sannin get almost nothing in terms of other shinobi their age!

opinion on true love:  He believes it exists, and to be honest he kinda fears it. To him, it’s the sort of unconditional love that will see you do anything for that person, which is scary for someone who lives primarily for himself and has such lofty ideals that he doesn’t want anything to get in the way of. What if the person he loves to that degree is the wrong sort? He’d find it more challenging to stick to his ideals if it came at the detriment of someone he was in love with. But you’ve gotta give him props, because he’d try his best to meet in the middle :P

opinion on love at first sight:  Not love, only lust--though in his excitement at seeing someone particularly eye-catching he might think ‘oh wow, I love her!’ (and let’s face it, it’s usually a ‘her’ because he’s weak to an amazing rack). He does, however, believe it’s possible to feel a spark of interest or intrigue that compels one to find out more about a person. He believes that people can naturally gravitate towards each other through some force that can’t be seen or explained.

how ‘romantic’ are they?  He finds falling into affectionate, lovey-dovey behaviour very easy, because he lives for that ‘honeymoon period’ (which is pretty much the extent of any relationship he has). He likes to buy gifts for love interests and write little poems/love letters for them, so in that sense he’s quite cheesy in his romance. However, it can sometimes come across as pretty shallow because he goes into a relationship with such an ‘all in good fun’ attitude, not seeking anything serious out of it. When he’s truly fallen for someone his love is a lot more quiet and intense, manifesting in ways such as always keeping an eye out for them/potential threats to them at all times, and pretty much bending over backwards to make sure they’re happy. He's romantic to the degree that when separated from his loved one, the strength of his love can feel like Actual Death crushing down on him, and if it existed in their world he’d probably spend long candlelit hours listening to the entirety of Disintegration by The Cure on repeat and pining while writing poetry. And worst thing is, he’ll enjoy the sheer self-indulgence of being so hopelessly in love. So in short, he’s pathetically romantic :’)

ideal physical traits:  Regardless of gender he tends to go for a softer, ‘prettier’ face, but it hasn’t stopped him from making eyes at a handsome manly-man. One preference is long hair over short--on any gender. A huge turn-on for him, again in any gender, is a more shapely hip as opposed to narrow, particularly with a nice dip to the waist. A curving spine with good posture (unlike his own). Smooth skin with minimal hair is a plus. Also... kinda more appearance than bodily trait, but a certain flair in terms of style goes a long way with him.

ideal personality traits: Fun-loving, adventurous, healthily competitive, a sharp sense of humour, passionate about a cause or hobby. Someone who can keep up with him in all his wild impulsiveness and throw aside responsibility, but also rein him in when it’s needed (and possibly even be a little controlling). Somebody with that perfect balance of clinginess/independence. In fact, someone who has a tendency to be cold/aloof can be very appealing to him because it offers him the challenge of getting to their softer centre.

unattractive physical traits:  Honestly, just poor grooming/presentation/hygiene. Unloved hair, nails and skin is a turn-off. Other than that he can easily be attracted to a variety of different bodies/faces.

unattractive personality traits:  Judgemental, harshly critical (particularly of him), close-minded, resistant to trying new things/taking risks. He’s an optimist though, so he’ll often seek out the attractive traits in people and focus on those.

ideal date:  Wine and dine all the way, followed by a nice scenic walk, stargazing (and, date permitting, getting a little frisky somewhere ill-advised).

do they have a type? Not particularly--if he clicks with someone in conversation, chances are he can go from ‘meh’ to ‘would bang’ very quickly.

average relationship length:  Ahahaha. Up to six months, I’d say. When he was in his teens he may have had one or two girlfriends for a year or so, but as he gets older he’s on the road too much to hold down anything long term, and to be honest he doesn’t even want to risk trying.

preferred non-sexual intimacy:  Use him as a chair. Get in his lap, snuggle into his chest, wrap your arms around his neck. Pet him. Pet each other. Face touches. Share baths (though that may well become sexual). Drink together and get all passionate about interests.

commitment level:  Basically nonexistent, without heaps of development. Nothing personal~ (on the other hand, he’s ridiculously committed to his fellow Sannin, in both friendship and if a relationship was to start with either of them. Go fig.)

opinion of public affection:  Fun and sexy, with a partner willing to engage. He loves to show off who he has on his arm. Still, the point of anything more than your typical PDA is to keep it clandestine, to see how much they can work each other up in the most subtle of ways. In general, he tries to restrict it to an arm around the waist/shoulders but he often gets ahead of himself--he might need to be told off for being a little too gropey in public. He really couldn’t care less about seeing others’ PDA! Good on them!

past relationships? He’s not had many meaningful ones, just a looooong string of flings, shorter relationships that fizzled and one night stands. When he was a teen, I think he had a couple of girlfriends until he didn’t, probably was in a relationship with the person he lost his virginity to. In his late teens/early twenties, probably didn’t want to be tied down and experimented with men too (especially tempting when he was sent places far from home). During his longer stints away from Konoha (between his return from Ame and Minato’s death, and again between Minato’s death and coming back to Konoha/meeting Naruto), I suspect he may have held a couple of relationships for a few weeks or months here and there, possibly a few willing booty calls at any given time, but things were all so fucked that his heart wasn’t really in them. In short, Pretty Much Nonexistent!

[fear-god-shun-evil]

God Leads Me to Quit Playing Mobile Games

By Xiaoxue

My name is Xiaoxue and this year, I am 12. Ever since the day I began to play mobile games, my daily routine had been upset and every day, I led a busy life. Only after I received God’s gospel and read the words uttered by God and the brothers’ and sisters’ experience articles on quitting online gaming did I came to know that playing game is one of Satan’s methods of afflicting us, and in the end, I thoroughly got rid of mobile games by relying on God.

I began to play games before I accepted God’s work. One time, I saw that my elder sister was enjoying playing mobile games. Out of curiosity, I took my cue from her and downloaded some Mini games to my phone to play. But who would have thought that I was addicted to playing these games as soon as I started to play them. Since then, my phone was never far away from my fingers. As a result of playing games, I couldn’t keep regular hours in life or study. In the past, every day after returning home from school, I would first do my homework. However, since I started to play games, I was absorbed in playing them after school. Often, not until midnight did I remember that I had homework to do. Every time this happened, I would be very worried and think to myself: It’s so late, when will I be able to finish so much homework? But if I cannot finish it, I will certainly be scolded by my teachers. With this in mind, I immediately started to do my homework. However, before long, I became too sleepy and tired to continue with my homework. I thought to myself: I might as well rise early in the morning and get on with it. But because I got to bed so late, I got up late, and then I had to do my homework hastily. When I finally finished it, it was time for me to go to school. Having no time to eat breakfast, I took the snack that my grandmother had fixed and had it as I trotted off to school. I did these things in such a hurry almost every day.

In November 2016, I accepted God’s gospel and became a little Christian in the house of God. When I had free time, apart from reading God’s words with my grandmother, I would play mobile games uncontrollably. Seeing this, my grandmother was afraid that I might become decadent and thus asked me to uninstall these games. But I was really reluctant to do as she said because these games were really fun, especially “Happy Cancellation”, which was my favorite game. I had got to such a high level and was very unwilling to uninstall it, and I just wanted to carry on playing it. Should I uninstall it or not? I hesitated for a long time and finally, I decided to uninstall these games on my phone. But later when I felt tempted to play mobile games, I would again download some to my phone, and then I uninstalled it after playing for a period of time. Just like this, I downloaded games and uninstalled them over and over again. I felt that I really could not give up mobile games. As soon as I arrived home and saw my phone, I could not help picking up my phone and playing games. Gradually, I got to the point where I was often so deep in playing games that I forgot to eat.

At a gathering, I told the aunt responsible for watering me about the matter of my playing games. Then she let me read an article written by a brother believing in God. In this article, he wrote about how he was afflicted by Satan because of indulging in gaming before he believed in God, and about the facts that because of playing games, some people fell ill, some children became unbalanced, and some even wound up dead…. Reading these things, I began to feel afraid. I had never thought that playing games was such a dangerous thing that some people even played themselves to death. At the end of this article, this brother also wrote that after receiving God’s gospel, he completely quit online gaming by depending on God’s words. I thought to myself: “I’m also a believer in God. Since he could rely on God to get rid of gaming, I should also rely on God and ask Him to guide me to quit mobile games.” Then, I read the following passage of God’s word, “Playing games is like taking a kind of drug. Once someone starts to play games, once they enter into them, then it becomes hard to get back out and hard to quit. So regardless of whether it is young people or older people, once they catch this bad habit, it becomes difficult to give it up. Some parents try to keep a close eye on their children but they can’t always be watching them. They may not play games during the day, but when their parents go to bed at night, they furtively turn the computer on, and play games all night long” (“Young People Should See Through the Evil Trends of the World”). I am such a kid as God’s words have described: Though my grandmother kept her eye on me all day and often criticized me for my playing games, I still could not control myself and even frequently played them until midnight and forgot to do my homework. After reading these God’s words, I was aware that I should give up playing games, or else the consequences would be very serious, so I decided to uninstall all the games on my phone after I returned home from the gathering.

At this moment, the aunt asked me, “Xiaoxue, what go through your mind after you finished reading this article? Please share with us.” I hastened to answer, “Aunt, never, never again will I play mobile games, nor will I download games to play. In the past, I just felt playing games was fun, but now, I know playing games is so harmful that I decide to give it up.” Then, she asked me again, “If you are again tempted to play games, what should you do?” The question did stop me in my tracks because I merely had the determination to uninstall games and yet was still vague about what to do if I again felt like playing games. So, I could only look at her in confusion. Seeing my expression, the aunt smiled and said, “Xiaoxue, through reading God’s words, we understand that playing games is actually one of Satan’s methods of afflicting and swallowing us. It takes advantage of games to cause us to become obsessed, thus controlling us and leading us by the nose; in the end, it causes us to stray away from God and once again to return to its side. So, you should see through Satan’s scheme. In the future, when wanting to play games again, if you don’t want to be controlled by it, you should hasten to call out to God and ask Him to give you a heart of forsaking flesh. God is at our side. When you encounter difficulties, as long as you call out to Him, He will help you. Since we don’t have the strength to overcome sin on our own, we should pray to and rely on God, and only that way can we get rid of the temptation of games. …” After listening to her fellowship, I became confident and nodded violently and then said to her, “Aunt, I’m bound to rely on God to get rid of mobile games.”

After going back home, I uninstalled all the games on my phone. At the moment I did this, I didn’t feel as terrible as before; instead, I felt very glad and considered that I would never again be afflicted by Satan and God would like my doing so. However, because my understanding of the truth was too shallow, one day, when I saw the phone on the table, I was once again itching to play games, thinking: Will it matter if I play them just once? I have gotten to a high level last time. The higher level I get to, the more fun I will have in playing them. I’ll just play one more time. As I thought about it, I reached for the phone. At this point, I was reminded of what the aunt had fellowshiped with me, “When you want to play games, you should hasten to cry out to God, ask Him for His protection and presence.” With that, I quickly pulled back my hand and called out to God in my heart, “O God! May You protect me and be with me, so that I can get rid of the temptation of mobile games. Although I know playing games is wrong, I don’t have the strength to overcome sin. May You give me faith and perseverance, and lead me to break my addiction to mobile games. Amen!” After prayer, I consciously kept away from the phone. At this moment, my grandmother stepped out of the kitchen after having prepared the meal, and she asked me, “Do you think about playing mobile games again?” I nodded and responded, a little embarrassed, “Yes!” She said, “Xiaoxue, you can’t be fooled by Satan again. Satan uses these games to bind you, causing you to lose yourself in them all day long, to the point where you are not in the mood to read God’s word or to study. If you play games, you would be tricked by Satan. You have made a resolution before God to stop playing games. If you are unable to keep your word, God won’t like you. Since you have believed in God today, you ought to be a good child who heeds God’s word.”

After listening to my grandmother’s words, I thought of a passage of God’s words which I read during a gathering, “God works on man and man is cherished in both God’s attitude and His heart. On the contrary, does Satan cherish man? It does not cherish man. What does it want with man? It wants to harm man, all it thinks about is harming man. Isn’t that right? So when it is mulling over harming man, does it do so in a pressing state of mind? (Yes.) So when it comes to Satan’s work on man, here I have two words that can amply describe the malicious and evil nature of Satan, that can truly allow you to know the hatefulness of Satan: In Satan’s approach to man, it always wants to forcefully “occupy” and “attach” itself to each of them so that it can get to the point where it is completely in control of man, harming man, so that it can achieve this objective and wild ambition. What does “forcefully occupy” mean? Does it happen with your consent, or without your consent? Does it happen with your knowing, or without your knowing? It is completely without your knowing! In situations where you are unaware, possibly when it has not said anything or possibly when it has not done anything, when there is no premise, no context, there it is around you, surrounding you. It looks for an opportunity to exploit, then it forcefully occupies you, attaches itself to you, achieving its objective of being completely in control of you and harming you. This is a most typical intention and behavior in Satan’s fight against God for mankind” (“God Himself, the Unique IV”). At that time, I had some awareness of the reason why when I saw mobile phone, I would always be tempted to play games, even deceived myself that I would just play them one more time. As it turned out, Satan was around me looking for an opportunity to exploit, with the purpose of harming and controlling me, so that I would distance myself utterly from God and be swallowed by it. There are really many malicious means of Satan harming people, and it harms people in a pressing state of mind. At the thought of this, I became more confident of leaving mobile games far behind.

Afterward, I found that, since I stopped playing games, I had not been busy as before. In the past, it seemed as if I was running against time every day. I always felt that I was pressed for time as I was occupied with doing my homework and playing games. As a result, I could not eat regularly and had little time to read God’s word with my grandmother. Now, every day I finish my homework on time and sleep regularly. And I no longer need to get up early to do my homework and eat on my way to school. What’s more, I have more time to read God’s words with my grandmother, and have resumed normal life and regular study. After quitting mobile games, I indeed felt great relieved. I felt that coming before God was so good and only God could protect me from Satan’s affliction.

As I thought about this, I could not help offering up a prayer to God, “O God! I’m thankful that You guided me out of the vortex of mobile games and rescued me from their afflictions. Now I’m still too young. There are many things I don’t understand and sometimes I don’t know what I should do to be right. May You guide me and protect me at my side all the time, so that I could stand guard against the tricks of Satan. In the following days, I’ll be willing to come into Your presence more, read Your words, understand more of the truth, and believe in and follow You properly. All the glory goes to God!”