#Like theres a constant barrier. and I hate it

[littlest-bugz]

SCREAMING THAT I WISH I TRUSTED SOMEONE ENOUGH TO VENT TO THEM RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[unohanabbygirl]

I actually think a fmbh au where circumstances (either Otto’s planning or Luke saying he’s not a Virgin in order to get out of it) see Aemond being the one people look to to carry the child. As you’ve said it would be an extremely traumatic event for him and I def think Luke would command Aemond to be silent on their wedding night while he messed up the sheets and cut his own hand to fake the blood. Pressured by Otto, you are tots right he would refuse to switch position even if Luke offered so I think Luke would def use his position as Aemond’s lord and husband to accept a faked bedding. This au would be so interesting because I feel like Alicent and Otto would pressure Aemond into continually trying to seduce Luke when a baby obviously didn’t arrive. In your story, Luke and Aemond kept coming back to each other for sexual release not only for their own sense of loyalties to not cheat, but also because they had slept together with assigned rolls on their wedding night that fit the comfort they had in their own bodies. Hate sex is a powerful way to draw characters to each other, but I think with this wedding night of Aemond being forced to bottom, they would never return to each other sexually so easily as we might see in fmbh. What would the story look like of their marriage was a stale one with no sex because Aemond was terrified of his own body which turned to even worse resentment, and Luke hated Aemond too from the start so he wasn’t about to spread his own legs. Thoughts??

You’re spot on. Having sex with someone you don’t even like is already bad enough but being forced to fit yourself into a role you’ve never been comfortable with whilst forced to acknowledge a part of yourself that you’ve been taught to view as shameful would def create a barrier between these two that wouldn’t allow for the dynamic we currently see to flourish. Since in this scenario the bedding was faked and they never actually had sex no emotional nor physical ties are created (which is good considering it would’ve been incredibly traumatic for both of them but especially Aemond). There’s no urge to seek each other out for more despite the hatred there, no dealing with a sudden desire to have that connection once more since hate is incredibly powerful and oftentimes goes hand in hand with lust. That lust soon having turned into genuine desire and an urge for affection.

Aemond would begin to view having sex with Luke as something to dread for the simple fact that his mother and Grandfather want him to carry on the Hightower line through Driftmark. I can clearly see a constant pressure on his shoulders throughout the years to finally go through with it just to get things over with and honor his families wishes, but always falling through last minute. Memories of Luke on top of him with pity in his eyes inspiring such anger because he’s put his body through years of training to never be seen as weak again. Shame that his nephew even saw him in such a state at all. He can’t follow through even when he feels like a complete failure every time his mother asks him if he’s yet with child only for the answer to be “no” time and time again. Theres too much negative emotion there to inspire anything other than hate and frustration.

It’s the same for Luke to a certain extent; while he surely doesn’t like Aemond he can’t help but feel horrible. He isn’t blind, he knows his husband is dealing with constant pressure to bear an heir no matter how much Luke insists it won’t be necessary as his point anout Driftmark passing through one of his sisters still stands. There’s pity alongside his dislike as well as sadness. Rhaenyra would never in a million years do something like that to him, so to see Alicent’s eyes on Aemond’s belly is hurtful. And he isn’t even the person her presence is digging into.

Luke is 100% the sort of man who’d want to have a discussion after x amount of years has passed because it’s that much of a sore spot. But Aemond refuses off jump; it’s bad enough he’s expected to act as Luke’s broodmare, why must he open himself up emotionally as well? Especially to the person who took his eye and still to this day has never apologized (at least in this Au)

However, I do see Laena being the one who slowly brings them together. Alicent would likely insist that Aemond take to her like a mother would in perpetration for when its his own time. At first he isn’t all that receptive because he’d always imagined if he were to have children he’d be a father rather than a mother, but soon enough he actually finds himself relaxed with parenting. If Laena cries he takes to her instead of servants, if she’s hungry he’ll stay and watch as she’s fed. Of course Luke’s there, so taking care of her would open them up to each other slowly yet surely.

[crypt1dcorv1dae]

Edit cus I forgot to put a read more so nobody has to scroll down my MILE of vent post, sorry

I've come to realize that the reason my mom completely failed to socialize me properly as a child or encourage me to make friends was because she genuinely never really wanted or needed friends and didn't understand that I, her child, might have. She genuinely didn't realize how lonely I was growing up, how lonely I still am, with how hard it is to make friends especially now as an adult, especially with my selective mutism (which is a term I fucking hate btw) and the fact that my natural, neutral, resting vocal tone makes me sound like a raging douche canoe because I sound condescending even though i literally never actually am!!!! I also have a bit of a RBF and all this makes it very difficult to meet new people!!!

Most people don't look any deeper than the surface and what they assume about me, and by most people I mean everyone literally all the time. I haven't made a friend irl since I was like 15 and I haven't kept a single one I made before that because nobody ever wants to stick around the guy that sounds like a raging douche canoe even when he's having a perfectly pleasant time.

Like yeah I CAN make myself sound more pleasant, more palatable, but it's a constant, conscious effort to do so and honestly makes my throat fucking hurt after a while, and honestly I'm just fucking sick of having to change a basic fundamental aspect of myself just to not be wrongfully perceived to be an asshole. I'm not being an asshole!!! This is just the way my voice sounds!!!!!!!!!!

Like... All I want is someone who understands that, yeah, the tone of my voice may sound a certain way, but that's not how I actually feel or think and it's in no way indicative of who I am as a person, it's just .. the way air vibrates in my throat to make noise. And look a little deeper and see me for who I am without me having to change myself.

And the only people I hang out with are my family, or my family's significant others, I don't have a single person IRL in my life who's actually.... Here for me. Like. Yeah sure I'm kinda friends with my brothers gf but I'm not the reason she's here. She's not here for me. And my family doesn't fucking count!!! I know I'm closer with them than most people, and I love that, but like... They aren't really mt *friends* at all. I can't really be open or honest or MYSELF with them because at the end of the day they're my family, not friends, and theres boundaries and barriers I don't want to cross there

I just want friends!!! I want people who hang out with me because they like *me*, not because they're dating my sibling, I want people who think I'm funny, who care about me as a whole person, who actively seek me out too, who don't mind that I sound dry and sarcastic and even sometimes harsh sometimes, because nobody can control the tone of their voice ALL THE TIME, that's literally not possible, and they know that its not reflective of how I actually feel and is just how my voice naturally sounds. I want people who care enough to tell me when I've done something wrong, instead of just silently resenting me for not reading their mind and fixing the problem I didn't know existed. I want people who care enough to talk to me even when it's hard, because they know I care too and never want to hurt them. I just want my people. Even just one person who I could call *my* friend would be enough tbh.

Sometimes I wonder if it would be better if I never started talking again at all, and just stayed totally nonverbal, if my life would be easier without my stupid voice getting in the way, but I know it wouldn't be.

Well, maybe I would have been given more accommodations growing up, cus most people didn't even realize I was nonverbal because I talked when I was with my mom and... I was always with my mom. So yeah I would have been treated like shit still, especially by people who assumed I couldn't hear them (I still got plenty of that) and people who thought not talking meant I was developmentally disabled, and talked down to me like I was some kind of idiot (which, yeah, developmentally disabled people don't fucking deserve that either) but maybe at least someone would have told my family about some of the accessibility tools and resources for deaf/HOH/NV/mute people instead of just assuming I would eventually grow out of it and be "normal"

Man being like... Half-verbal fucking sucks. Cus I still need all this help but I feel like a fucking leech for having to ask for it, because yeah physically I should absolutely be able to call my own doctors office but I CANT and I DONT KNOW WHY and I really wish I could cus I would take the 5 minutes of anxiety having a phone call over the lifetime of guilt and shame of not being able to any day!!!!! If I could do it I fucking would!!!! It would make my life so much easier!!!!! But my stupid fucking brain decided Nuh uh that's not allowed!!! Can't talk unless these people are present, can't talk over the phone at all, can't talk over video call, can't say certain words (I still say "doggy" instead of dog, among other things) and I don't even understand WHY. Sure I had some traumatic brain issues cause of some seizures but where the fuck did ALL THIS WEIRD SPECIFIC SHIT come into play???? Why????? What the fuck made it so I'm unable to say my own siblings' actual names and I had to give them all stupid nicknames instead????? What made me unable to say "mom" or "dad" instead of the more diminutive alternatives??????? Why can't I just DO IT????? WHAT IS STOPPING ME??????? CUS I CANT!!!! I CANT!!!!!!!!

And the most frustrating thing??????????

I'm fucking completely fine if I'm alone. But only if I'm alone. And even then doing things. That "breaks the rules" still gives me anxiety but the wall becomes climbable. It's not impossible. But around literally ANYONE??? Right back to square one.

But anyway. Back to my original point. The reason I grew up lonely and sad and friendless was because my parents never actually tried to encourage me to make friends, or at least not to KEEP friends. I MADE friends, briefly, occasionally, I would meet other kids at the playground and sometimes hit it off, I even went to one girl's birthday party!!! But... Nobody ever tried to keep in contact, make any more playdates or anything, I have no clue where that girl is today, I hope she's doing okay, and I wish with all my heart we could have stayed friends at least a little while longer, she seemed really cool!!! I wish I remembered her name atm but unfortunately my brain hurts cus I cried earlier cus I'm lonely and sad and nobody wants to be friends with me. Maybe someday I'll make a post to see if she's out there somewhere lol

Anyway.... I'm gonna maybe find a snack, some aspirin, and go to bed

[reki-of-the-valley]

Let's play a fun game called Is it the anxiety, the perfectionism, or has the quality of my work actually gone down?

[celestialholz]

‘A Non-Linear Perspective’, aka ya girl’s latest Qcard drabble

My new friend @tolstoyevskywrites requested a little thing last week, which I haven’t gotten round to quite yet (my baaaad), which runs a little like so:

Can I have a drabble where someone else in the crew finds out that Q and Picard are together? It can be Riker, Troi, Data, whoever you want xD

... Well, we all know I can’t answer a prompt like a normal human being at this point, right? Welcome to the madhouse, Tol - make yourself an Earl Grey, chuck, and strap in, won’t you? Because this is absolutely fucking ridiculous and I’m slightly in love with it. xD

It’s blissfully quiet, aboard this curious vessel she calls home.

It’s blissfully quiet, aboard this curious vessel she calls home. Radio silence broadcasts smoothly across the airwaves, delightfully absent of the orchestrated panic of its chief engineer; no one appears to be streaking through the outer corridors, their pointless existences in jeopardy; it’s perfectly still, not even the most microscopic of shudders trembling through the mainframe (that damned hum that her acquaintances seem so ignorant of persists, but she’s long since gotten used to that – it’s no barrier to a restful slumber). Even if her favoured person returns (time means nothing, ultimately – how long has he been gone? She doubts it’s quite long enough, in any case), he will be respectful of her weariness – after all, it’s incredibly difficult work doing so little, and there’s a reason why she so kindly tolerates him.

No, this is a rare experience indeed, and one she fully intends to appreciate. She stretches, lithe form extending itself completely for a moment, before she circles and settles, quite contentedly, atop the fleecy blanket of the bed. Its scent is mildly synthetic, accompanied by the faintest whiff of whatever was on that garish portrait across the bedroom. She closes her eyes rather deliberately against its offensiveness – honestly, all that effort for something so meaningless. Did it offer food? Entertainment? Strokes? Even the one depicted in it had seemed reluctant to praise its virtues.

She tucks into herself, drifting steadily off, the absolute tranquillity and joyful warmth permeating her completely. Perhaps she’ll dream of forests, or of crawling through Jeffries tubes, an exploratory mission of epic proportions; there’ll be mice in there somewhere, she just knows it –

Her eyes wrench open seconds before the oblivion she so craves, an obnoxious, echo-y sort of sound alerting her sensitive ears to something that appears to have been accompanied by an equally excessive flash –

She’s almost retroactively aware that she’s no longer cocooned by cosiness, and she levels her most malevolent glare and harshest snarl at the intruders as she recovers from being shoved so callously aside – how dare they, the human scum –

They’re desperately attached, mostly without clothing, scents permeating the perfectly pleasant air with biological pollution – supplement forty-six, how she hates them both! One of them wrenches back from the other, and she blinks curiously through a burning abhorrence – she knows that one. Her favourite respects him greatly – he’s important, somehow, though perfectly ordinary in appearance and aroma.

She’ll be damned to a hell of boisterous Dalmatians before she’ll defer to him, the utter bastard.

“Q!” He demands hotly. “Where the hell are we?!”

The other is significantly less tolerant of the distraction, apparently; she empathises entirely, although… she’s never seen him, but his scent – he’s not of this ship. She isn’t sure he’s of this galaxy; he smells not of confined conduits, or stress, or anything that she’s ever smelled upon another living soul. She understands these things, far better than the limited humanoids she occupies a space with, and it leads her to only one conclusion.

This is his fault. She fixes into a battle stance, glad of an official focus for her towering rage – she’s one against two, but one with one hell of a set of claws.

“Does it damned well matter, Jean-Luc? I’m slightly preoccupied – I’m sure you can empathise!” Her offender replies urgently, attempting to re-engage his companion – by the kingdom of rodents, this is more intolerable than her favourite and that other one! At least they feed her!

She flatly refuses to be ignored – grace befitting her position of superiority, she jumps back upon her rightful throne, claws itching to be extended into the neck of her usurper, glare toxic. The respected one turns to glance at her, and she releases a warning hiss for his troubles.

“Dear god,” he murmurs, eyes wide with horror. “We’re in Data and Geordi’s – what are we doing here, dammit?! Q!”

The evil one raises a brow, expression sheepish as he meets the venom of his newfound enemy; he’ll be fortunate if he has an expression left when she’s through with him.

“Ah,” he notes wryly, “I… may have been looking for a source of apathy, subconsciously. You’re rather overwhelming, mon capitan, and I imagine you’re quite partial to your galactic locality remaining intact.”

The important one’s eyes soften, much to her disgust.

“And there can be no greater apathy than a cat,” he finishes, amused. “A universal constant, apparently.”

“Oh, you’re about to discover exactly how apathetic I can be, humanoid wretch!”

She launches with planned spontaneity, at the most calculated moment, when the atrocity of a man will least expect it – he will pay, dearly, for his disturbance of her precious rest. She’s inches from his chest, claws extended fully, her very blood singing with the need for vengeance –

“Yes, no.”

The dismissive snap of his tone is followed swiftly by one from his fingers, and she never reaches her target. She’s left in situ, dangling precariously, the hateful gaze she’s directing at him returned almost as fiercely.

“I know you think you’re one, dear feline,” he spits, “but I actually am a god.”

“Q, let her go,” the other bites out coolly. He goes to protest, but thinks better of it; she’s released from the mystical prison of stillness, and she hisses bitterly for good measure.

“I will have my vengeance.” Her meow is pure rage as she realises she’s once again off the damned bed.

“Of course you will,” he drawls at her, unconcerned. “I trust you’ll keep your own counsel, furbag.”

Furbag?! The utter nerve! Her favourite had told her only earlier how pretty she was! Her grooming routine put felines the quadrant over to shame, the despicable –

“She’s hardly going to plough us through the ship’s gossip mill, Q,” the important one comments dryly, facing his companion with softness. “I assume you’ll be more cautious where you direct your apathy in future, however?”

She takes a moment from her current schedule of comprehensive incandescence to marvel at how the face of evil can look so warm.

“I shall endeavour to be a paragon of subtlety, my dear.”

They’re there one second, and she’s almost wrapped up her plan of sweet, sweet revenge; she’s sneaking cautiously, the very image of stealth, around the smooth fabric of the bedding, her movements gloriously quiet – he’ll rue every damned word –

She arrives back on the duvet just as they vanish with that same stupid noise and blinding flash, and she shrieks a hiss of pure fury.

“I’m telling everyone, you wait!” She screams. “Your empires shall crumble beneath my wrath!”

She flops, outraged, to the covering, starting at the sudden weight to her left; she flips up instantly, high on alert, and sniffs curiously.

… Oh. That’s supplement seventy-three, the one her favourite’s never quite managed to synthesise properly since that first wondrous occasion. Its aroma is divine, though the most intriguing snatch of eternity glimmers around it. Deciding to obey the will of her stomach rather than her natural caution, she tucks in with gusto, devouring it as though the soul of the victim that’s maddeningly disappeared.

She’ll get the bastard, one day – however delicious his pitiful offering was.

[the-mythical-norm]

Responding to Varun

@varun-krishnan

Great post Varun, thank you for making disagreeing so enjoyable. I mean that sincerely. Its the things that keep you up at night that are worth doing. And its 4:30 AM! 

Anyways, I see you’re point. When people are giving to chance to choose, they usually choose wrong. But I wouldn’t be so quick to say we’d all spindle into a grand canyon of ineptitude. If no one is “working” then who would supply us with our phones anyways? The entertainment industry would most likely dwindle because, like we both agreed, it is only able to thrive because we need it to distract us. But if we didn’t need to quench this thirst that was deprived from work and dread, we might go mad. Those friends you spoke with who were bored over spring break probably had copious amounts of entertainment, and it still wasn’t enough anyways. What if having nothing to do, because work and progress were thrown out the window, is enough to force us to be cool. The struggle is what births cool after all. We’d be so bored to death that we’d be forced to improvise. I think the reason people rely on Netflix and iPhones so much is because they don’t know what else to do. Without work they probably wouldn’t be able to have them anyways. People I’ve talked to have no idea what they’d be doing if not what they are now.  You’re right when you say that they want the easiest route, but thats a byproduct of a society obsessed with progress. We need fast food, fast cars, and lame jobs to progress our society. In order for maximum efficiency and growth. The question then becomes, how beneficial is this growth? How far do we want to get? 90% of the worlds waste comes from 10% of the worlds population..or something like that. So how much longer will this last? How much more do we want? What will we tell our great great grandchildren when they’re living in a glass bubble on mars only dreaming of being able to look at a lake…or a tree? Obviously sacrifices need to be made in order for a society to progress, but at the end of the day, whats the point of this progress? How many of us will actually reap its benefits? 10%? 20%? And the ones who do, hate their jobs most of the time anyways. And its all worth it so we can squeeze some art through the cracks and take bike rides when we aren’t busy? What a silly way to live. Our society will eventually collapse if we continue to advance. Progress progress progress. At some point its got to give. The term worker bee was born for a reason. The focus of their existence is to work, work, and more work. They also suffer from colony collapse disorder. Theres no scientific explanation for it, entire bee colonies just vanish into thin air, with no trace of struggle..maybe its because they work too much. Or the collapse of Easter Islands society, progress is great when you’re progressing, but how “sustainable” is it anyways. Theres only so much resource. You seem to suggest that what we are doing now works, does it? Will any form of society actually work? Everyone relies on being told what to do because, like we talked about in class, its hard to think for yourself, its hard to get control over your body/mind, its hard to DO things that you aren’t told to do. Like post to this Tumblr.

Im not sure if people would turn to cool if they no longer had to work or go to college, but most people I ask usually say “I don’t know,” or that they would travel.

Im also not sure that art only existed after humans had civilized and advanced utility. Archeologists have discovered Paleolithic cave art dating 40,000 years back, in Indonesia. It’s pretty amazing too. The time spent looking for your next meal in 10,000 BCE is directly replace with time spent looking for your next pay check, and because of the efficiency we’ve “mastered,” excess has been born. Pablo Picasso was cool, but he was doing the best with what he had. He wasn’t making art to progress society, he was just putting it out there. We are obsessed with extremes, manic or depressed. Wealth or poverty. Cool trys to show us a middle ground, a constant hum rather than shouts and whispers.

You say that “..societal progress is critical not because it helps alleviate human suffering, but because it allows more people to be Cool..” But I disagree. Societal progress doesn’t alleviate any suffering, thats just part of the human condition. To rid ourselves of suffering would be to rid ourselves of our humanity. Which is exactly what we are on track of doing, becoming robots whose only purpose is to progress. On the contrary, In order for our society to advance, AKA produce more shit for the rich to buy, there has to be suffering. Most of these consumer products which blossomed from “societal progression,” have been tainted in blood. The invention of the iPhone has provided millions of sweatshop workers with 40 hour shifts and zero time to be cool..the only progression there is suicide rates. That sounds a lot like slavery, which still exists by the way, in India, China, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Uzbekistan, the list goes on. As for the starvation, theres plenty of that too. And way more people to endure its wrath, possibly because of societies advancements, what happened to Darwins theory of evolution, survival of the fittest? Are we cheating a bit? Even people who have access to food, still starve themselves. Eating disorders may have even stemmed from technological advancements (social media) too.

You say cool won’t progress society, whys that such a bad thing? It is true that the sophisticated and advanced society that James Dean or The Beatles could enjoy being cool in would seize to exist, but ultimately cool is a battle stance. What if there was no battle? What if we were so cool we didn’t even need I️t. I️ also agree that In order for cool to exist, there needs to be uncool. But does the uncool world depend on the cool one to exist? Its possible that we could become so dictated by success that we become like the worker bees. You could argue both sides. When people don’t have food, they are starving, but when people do have food, they are still starving. Of course cool needs the uncool and there will always be duality, Yin and Yang. There has to be, or else meaningfulness would be lost. If you just love everything and everyone, loves power sort of looses its meaning and just dilutes in its ubiquity. So I️ agree that cool has a relationship with the uncool, but I wouldn’t go as far as to say that its intimate. Im not arguing for a utopian society, where we live in tribes and sing kumbuya by the campfire, hunt our own food and refuse to advance. Because that didn’t work either, someone eventually decided to make things easier, and advance. Maybe that was a mistake. It’s worth thinking about, and free too. Im not really sure what im arguing. We can learn from all of these different forms of society. Maybe not eradicating the workforce but promoting genuinely passionate career paths. I’d be lying if a little part of me didn’t scream fuck that, advancement is only creating more suffering to the unlucky ones. As you said, slaves cant be cool. But Slavery exists on both sides of the spectrum. On the far end, we could become so obsessed with advancement that we become slaves of money and material pursuit, and on the other end(living in tribes), slaves of famine and lack of clean water. Maybe theres a healthy middle ground. Perhaps nothing works, not even cool. As we learned in class, cool cracked up in 1968. Revolution swept the streets. Those streets have since been paved, where did the rebellion go? We live in a whole new world now, Lester Young and Andy Warhol didn’t have iPhones or Netflix, and Im sure it would have negatively effected their coolness if they did. But their art wouldn’t have existed if society didn’t advance in the first place, so is there a line? There must be. Any form of suffering, to a certain extent, would allow cool to exist. Its not necessarily the marketplace because that was the bane of cools existence in the first place, I think. You don’t necessarily have to be cool to enjoy the sunset either, so cheering for the hamsters on the wheel to run faster, just so the barrier to cool is a little easier to hop, isn’t the best idea. That perpetuating wheel has A LOT of side effects and cool is just one, if it even exists. I️m not sure it’s enough to outweigh the rest. I think cool should view the culture industry as an enemy, and there will never be a cool that isn’t thrust upon you through hardship, theres no escaping that. Even purchasing your cool requires some suffering, as we can all agree that making money isn’t all that fun. Unless you love what you do. I think the real question we should be asking is, how can we learn from all of this? How should we be?  to be continued in paper 3...

[doi917]

*EDGY*

As a person who regularly wears black unironically and doesn’t use Hot Topic as basis and or means of aquirement in terms and or pertaining to said shade of clothing I find that In wearing Black, this color, this shade, that im not only showing a certain social statement, that im showing i disconnect to the irredecent, self obsessed, flesh sacks that judge in terms of what is and is not socially aquaintable by means of the intellectually retarded’s interpretation of a “aesthetic” and or “facade by means of sight”, but that I am in term showing familiarity (in terms as to what I am comfortable with) and or a form of devotion to this shade that is aesthetically and quite possibly deeply rooted in terms of emotional, intellectual, and creative fulfillment.

However there are many “people” and I say “people” loosely here, who feel that the certain occurrence for my choice of garment is otherwise known and stated….. Of course im talking about the socially and emotionally retarded’s (or might as well more commonly known as apathetic through ignorance or even emotionally inexperienced’s) most redundant, inexplicably, flat out ignorant and dare i say mongaloid filled term that will never cease to anger me in its entirety….. “Edgy” “Edgy” ladies and gentlemen is a very overused term that has found itself at the forefront of slang in the language barrier that never ceases to show just how shelterd and well groomed these intellectually void, Apathetic “people” are, for reference and furthermore blatent reference “Edgy” is used in common day terms to try and say that in context it could mean “trendy” or “trying to be shocking” in some sort or fasion, for instance “I hate society” “Thats edgy” Its used and or meant in a derogatory term in means of belittling you based on certain beliefs and or actions, Do you wear black and listen to Marylin Manson? Edgy. Does it matter if theres an emotional connection to that NIN song you listen to? Nope. You are labeled “an edgy edgelord” Do you find the world (as a collective meaning blatent humanity) to be annoying, repulsive, undeniably redundant and mundane? Edgy. Talk about songs that mention you not wanting to be in a hole of constant persistent self doubt? Edgy. This term is used by the emotionally ignorant apathetic Mongoloids who wouldn’t know what trauma or emotional experience would be if it slammed their face deep into a spike, and dont get me wrong I have used and or utter the term but only to certain situations that i know or in blatent terms to also make fun of the labeler, example, A poser who thinks they know and or abuse the terms of a mental illness they clearly have no idea what the hell they are, and use them to blatently just get attention when they dont need it all because they dropped a fucking cookie or did the emotional equivalent of it? yeah to me thats “edgy” or calling myself an “edgy edgelord” im doing it facetiously to make fun of the emotional depth (which is as about as deep as a carpet as far as im concerned) but they way it is contextually used is quite frankly in all matter of terms “fucking stupid” Its like the stupid phrase “get over it” or how i like to describe it “wow you arent happy like the rest of us? Well let us to allow ourselves belitte you with an incorrect and blatently stupid use of a suppos-ed derogatory term in order to forcefully bully you back in to the frame of life and or veiw that you should be happy all the time and you are overreacting to everything that happens to you life is perfect, pussy.” It shows just how sheltered and sickly ignorant you are as a human being personally being in your own little pathetic bubble of apathy and self-indulgence to see soley with tunnel vision as to what you want and not what you need. You got parents that take care of you and cater to the emotional and physical needs of you? Good. Not everyone has it. Never had trauma? Good. Well guess what man? Other people can get it and youll never truely understand just How heavy that weight of a situation is

Oh man, I want to express myself in a way that will get this emotional pain out and wont get me sent to the loony-bin on a one way ticket in the twinkie mobile just because i frowned once and thus getting me fucked up and strung out on the hype trainwith the other 70% of Americans to the co-dependancy that is a bottle of pills that was forced upon me by people in white lab coats that are corporatly controlled and relentlessly as well as demonicly follow the shrill doctorine of cold hard cash? Youre just edgy. You got shot by your dad? Edgy. Your mom senselessly beat you as a child and used your hair as a ash tray? Edgy. You were constantly blamed by both parties of your parent divorce as the sole reason for it? Edgy.

Obviously you understand my point

I hate this word. The fact i even have to say it is pathetic and so depressing it makes me cry at night This isnt ok Its fuckin stupid Stop it You arent funny or cool Youre an idiot And intellectualy devoid apathist who wont progress anything with your damn banter

Then again what do i know? Im just Being Edgy

[sin-n-city]

Ignited: Transpire

Ignited Chapter 3- Transpire

Pairing: Dan Howell/ Phil Lester and PJ Liguori/ Chris Kendall

Rating: M

Warnings: Swearing and eventual fluff/smutt

Word Count: 3,062

Summary: AU superpowers. The lights has been there for as long as Dan can remember. It’s apart of him and he can’t help but love the light. But sometimes the burning and itching under his skin won’t leave until it shines bright and illuminates the sky.

Dan’s life changes forever when he is trust into a world of magic and mystery inside the walls of the Nova Institute for the Exceptionally Gifted and Talented. Dan Howell/Phil Lester, PJ Liguori/ Chris Kendall.

Notes: I hope your all enjoying this as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it! 

Link to Chapter 2 Link to Chapter 1

Any possible sentence formation instantly disappears. It takes all of Dan’s willpower to stop his jaw actually opening in shock. He glances from Phil, to the right hand side where Chris has already been let in. He looks back at Phil, nerves filling him because this can not be happening.

Phil smile turns from something enthusiastic to something a little more mellow, assumably because he’s guessing Dan is nervous. Which he definitely is. As well of a whole lot of other emotions swirling around in his head.

“Want to come in?”

Phil moves to the side and Dan takes a few more moments before he follow the que, walking slightly past his roommate.

He’s momentarily distracted. The room is how he expected it, yet not quite. It’s relatively large, more so then he would expect a dorm at a regular school to be. He’s walked into a lounge, an L shaped dark gray couch occupying the space on the right hand side. Directly across from it is a TV, and further down is a small kitchenette, which to Dan’s knowledge appears to have a sink, a microwave, and a mini bar fridge. There’s two doors, one on the opposite wall of the entrance hall and next to a bookshelf, and another on the right hand side a bit past the couch.

He prays to whatever god will hear him that it’s two separate bedrooms. He’ll take a communal bathroom.  

“Better than expected?”

Dan glances back at Phil and offers him a small nod. Dread washes over him, because what if this guy’s ability is mind reading? He’s totally fucked.

“Maybe you’d like a tour?” Phil questions again and Dan just shrugs in response. However, his roommate continues as though Dan is not blatantly attempting to ignore him.

Phil takes it in his stride, accepting that as a yes and continuing on. “So obviously this is the lounge room, equipped with netflix. It’s actually my account but I’m happy to share it. Theres the kitchen, we don’t really have cooking facilities because all meals are provided by the cafeteria, but we are encouraged to bring drinks and extra food up for whenever we feel like it. It’s open access except for curfew hours. A lot of nova’s need additional food to compensate for the energy output, so there's always something around.”

The word nova’s being used so casually sort of freaks Dan out. It’s like he’s finally labeled, like he’s actually apart of something. He isn’t the only one. It’s oddly comforting, but at the same, time impossibly scary.

Phil walks towards one of the doors, the one to the right. He looks over his shoulder as though he is inviting Dan to follow. He does, and as Phil opens the door he realises his previous worries were correct.

It’s a bathroom, fully equipped with a decent sized shower and toilet. There are dark blue towels hanging on the towel rack, and an array of scented shower gels inside the shower mantel piece. Phil gives Dan a moment to take it all in before he is walking towards the next door.

Dan doesn’t have to guess. He know’s that him and Phil will be sharing a room together. Dan takes a step inside. The room, although decently sized, is still shared, with one bed pressed  horizontally against the corners of the right and front walls. The other one is on the far left, vertically facing towards the door. There are two sets of desks in the room, a large window that they face out to. The have matching bedside tables, and two wardrobes.

Fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, he tries to soak it all in. It isn’t even the fact that for some ungodly reason he got placed with Phil, but for the fact he will also have to share a room, when he has very little control over his abilities.

“I sort of had my stuff everywhere but I've moved it all to one side. If you find some sort of adapter or something that isn't yours by your desk or what not just move it. I’m pretty sure I got everything but I was in a bit of a rush when they told me we would be sharing. So there's a chance I've probably left a few things, actually.”

Phil laughs at the end, smiling widely and friendly. It should be comforting. And maybe it sort of is. But for the most part, it does not extinguish the nerves fluttering in Dan's stomach.

For the upmost time in the past few days, he feels his ability prinkle under his skin, reacting to his emotions as he tries to desperately to keep himself in check. He takes a few calm breaths, willing himself not to lose it just yet.

Phil’s bright blue eyes soften and he looks sympathetic.

“So, I guess this is all kind of overwhelming, and I know you don’t know me or, like- basically, this school is going to help. So don’t worry. There is nothing you could do here that hasn’t been done before.”

It does put Dan’s mind to ease a little, but he still doesn’t look at Phil. Instead, he looks over to his bed. He assumes the one with the green duvet cover is Phil’s and his is the pale gray one in the corner bed.

“I’ll let you get settled.” Phil comments, “All your stuff has already been brought up, just in the closet.”

He gives one final smile before he turns away, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Dan take a few steps, collapsing onto the bed.

Instead of unpacking, he just falls asleep.

--

He naps for probably a bit too long. It’s several hours after his fallen asleep. His things are still unpacked, and he should probably clean them, or at least hang his clothes up. Dan doesn’t though. He rubs the remaining sleep from his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

He trudges out of the room, opening the door slowly.

Phil’s nowhere in sight.

It puts his mind to rest a bit. He tells himself that it shouldn’t, that this is a school designed to handle people like him. But at the same time, they don’t know what he’s capable of. Phil surely doesn't either. They might be the same age, but he’s willing to bet that Phil doesn’t randomly explode when his emotions are too high, or that there is a constant ache under his skin.

He pushes those thoughts to the side.

It’s half past seven, on the later side and he’s practically starving. He doesn’t know what time dinner is - he should probably get around to reading that manual - but Phil mentioned that the kitchens were always open before curfew, so he’s going to take his word for it and head over there to find something to eat.

It’s only a few more moments before he is out in the unfamiliar halls, trekking back through what he thinks is the correct way towards the dining wing.

It feels less weird as he enters the courtyard. There are others here now. Not too many, but enough, socialising. There's a girl blowing bubbles, literally flying out of her mouth and up into the air in different shapes. The two other girls around her laugh. The blonde one points her finger at them, a small bolt of electricity shooting out of it and hitting it dead in the center.

Dan almost stops in his tracks. He has to remind himself that this is normal.

That he can do that too.

Just like those girls, he’s a Nova.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

--

It’s long gone dark when Dan finally returns to his room. He unlocks the door, taking a few steps in before closing it behind him.

“Welcome back.”

Dan jumps a little at the voice, because even if he was expecting someone, it would have been Phil.

“Chris?” Dan asks. He walks a few more steps to find Chris lounging about on the couch, TV moved to his side, and a packet of half empty chips on his lap.

Chris just grins at him before shoving a few more chips into his mouth.

“How did you...get in?”

Glancing back at the TV, Chris replies. “It’s amazing what you can do when you can break the sound barrier.”

Dan raises his eyebrow, because that doesn’t make any sense. At all.

“I’m kidding,” Chris jokes. “Your roomie let me in.”

He can’t help it, he visibly frowns. Not so much at anything in particular, just the constant reminder that he needs to get himself under control, because his family’s not around to cover for him if he actually fucks up. “Where is he?”

“I think he went somewhere with Peej. They invited me but I said I’d wait for you here. Phil offered free Netflix. And junk food. No mortal soul could resist that.”

Dan laughs, shaking his head. “Who is Peej?”

“My overly attractive roommate. It’s like the universe loves me. Or hates me, I haven't really decided yet.”

Dan physically has to stop himself from letting out a groan. Because he kind of feels exactly the same. He’s not going to tell Chris that, however.

He shrugs, “Probably a bit of both.”

Chris just shoves a few more chips in his mouth, looking like he is contemplating something, no doubt to do with his roommate. It’s then Dan realises that he doesn’t exactly know why Chris has come round to see him. Or, what he is even doing in his room in the first place.

“Is there a reason you came round?” Dan asks, and to his surprise, Chris just shakes his head. He shrugs and pats a spot next to him on the couch.

“Fate Dan. We both started at the institution at the same time, and got put in parallel rooms. Romeo and Juliet. With less making out. That’s reserved for others, unfortunately,” Chris replies with something Dan would describe as a shit eating grin. He says it in a perfectly posh british accent as well, which he has no doubtedly picked up from someone he has heard before. His usual voice is much too northern for him to have picked it up naturally.

“Right,” Dan agrees, but there's a smile on his face, because Chris is definitely crazy, and despite everything, for the first time in his life, having someone to talk to is really refreshing. Even if it is sort of unwillingly, and even if it is making him a tad uncomfortable. He has no idea what to do with himself, and though part of him wants to bolt, he doesn’t. He just stands there, stock still and unsure of himself.

Chris looks at him questionably, and it occurs to Dan that he is waiting for him to quit awkwardly lingering in the doorway and actually take the seat that was offered to him. He does, somewhat hesitantly.

“Have you read the introduction book yet?” Chris asks, offering the chip packet to Dan. Dan shakes his head. He probably should have, but this is all a little overwhelming and he’s hoping that Chris is feeling the same way. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like it.

Chris laughs, his next words putting Dan to ease. “Me neither, actually. PJ gave me a tour of the school, which is fucking ginormous, by the way. You could actually hide dead bodies on the campus and it would probably take months to find.”

“Is this the part where you reveal that you lure people in with your impeccable accents and kill them while they sleep? Because I’m pretty sure someone on campus might notice if a student suddenly goes missing, just saying.”

Chris laughs, his next sentence the perfect imitation of Hannibal Lector. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

Dan’s tempted to chuck one of the decorative pillows at him.

“That’s fucking creepy.”

Smiling, the brunette beside him looks smug, and far too pleased with himself.

They settle together after that, Dan allowing Chris to hoard Phil’s Netflix account. He mostly plays hour long comedian shows, but Dan doesn’t mind. Despite everything, he’s enjoying Chris’ company. When was the last time he hung out with anybody that wasn’t his parents?

Dan doesn’t want to think about that, and he’s trying to convince himself that he’s safe, that this isn’t as terrible an idea as it seems.

But it still isn't a good idea. Not yet, not this soon. Not after everything that's happened. No, he isn’t going to be making any friends, no matter how funny Chris is and no matter how much it seems that they might get along. They can be acquaintances though, and if Chris wants to waste his time entertaining the silent Dan, then that will be fine, so long as Chris doesn’t push for anything Dan can’t give.

It’s safer if they reserve their time together to watching stupid Netflix shows anyway, maybe doing homework together in the library if Chris turns out to be that kind of guy. Yeah, that could be good, and it is a better friend-acquaintance-ship for Dan than if Phil tried to hang out with him anyway.

From Dan’s experiences, being around the people he finds attractive never turns out well for him.

“Hey, so, Peej was telling me about this cool party they throw on the last Saturday of every month. You maybe wanna go tomorrow?” Chris suddenly suggests. Dan glances over, and bites his lip.

“Nah. I’m cool.”

Chris eyes him for a minute, and then he shrugs. “Suit yourself, then.”

--

The only real bonus about having the ability to control light, is not having to worry about a lamp. Dan's hands skim the leather bound book, hands glowing against the page and illuminating the words he wants to read.

IV- students are prohibited from using their abilities upon other students, teachers or non-novas.*

He scoffs a bit. He would of thought this was basic knowledge. It makes him wonder though, what the students did who made this rule need to be written in the first place.

V- students are not allowed to speak or demonstrate their abilities to non-novas outside of their immediate family and/or guardians.

That point almost makes him laugh. Like he's had a choice. His life has been a constant battle to keep his abilities at bay, and unfortunately, some of the time he hasn't won, if the most recent events at his other school are anything to go buy, not to mention everything else that's happened.

It makes Dan wonder though, what would happen if the school didn't find out about him, if he hadn't accepted, if he’d chosen not to come here, and continued on like he had been for the past 17 years of his life. Part of him wants to know, another part of him doesn't.

VI- students are permitted to use their abilities within the designated school zones only.

At least that explains the girls using their abilities in the courtyard outside of class.

IX- students are expected to adhere to the school schedule. No student should be out of bed after 10pm between sunday-thursday (with the exception of public holidays). A curfew of no later than 12am on weekends is permitted. Students are not allowed out of there rooms post curfew.

It's not like Dan plans on being out and about past then, but to be honest, he doesn't have the best sleep schedule. He supposes that at least if he can stay up on tumblr to 3am even if he can't go get his usual 2am snack.

The asterisk at the bottom of the page states apart from within class training. But that's not what gets his attention. It's the final remark at the end of guide.

Students who disobey the rules will be punished accordingly.

Dan reads it a few times, because what does that even mean? How does someone with abilities punish someone? Let alone accordingly. It sends a small shiver down his spine. He has doubts that detention is the only method of use when it comes to breaking some of the major rules. He hopes that's not true, but then again, how do you deter a student from using their abilities on others without some sort of serious consequence?

He places the book on top of his bedside table. The words seeping in as the glow disappears. He wraps himself up in his duvet, curling against himself and tossing until he faces the wall.

Maybe, if he feels up to it, he will ask tomorrow. Maybe.

--

It’s dark when he wakes up. He’s a bit disorientated, and it takes Dan a few moments to register what’s going on. He can feel himself burning up, feel the heat under his skin sting in a way that he swears should seer. Pushing the covers up, he struggles to breathe, and wills himself to get a grip.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Phil sleeping, moonlight falling onto his face from the open window.

It’s the first night this has happened in a while, when his uncontrollable urge has woken him up in the middle of the night. Beads of sweat rolls down his face. His fists clench together, press against his chest. Words chant in his head. Not here, not now.

He can feel the tears prickle in his eyes. It’s his first night and his worst fear is already coming true. His abilities restlessly prickle under his skin, warmth flowing through his body relentlessly. He tries to take deep breaths, closing his eyes and concentrating. Pleading with himself. Forcing the heat away. His right palm lights up momentarily, and Dan practically chokes. He clenches his fist tighter, the light fading away almost as quickly as it shot through.

It’s several agonizing minutes before Dan can feel his control pushing through. He settles down, jagged breaths becoming more even as the heat dissipates. His head flops back against the bedframe, exhaustion rushing over his body. He can feel his energy slipping away, the internal struggle zapping all the fight from him.

He slinks down, sheets engulfing him once again. Darkness surrounds him, guiding him back to sleep. So quickly, that he doesn’t process the pair of blue eyes looking straight at him.

Link to chapter 4: Glow