#NOTHING MAKES ME HAPPIER THAN IDENTIFYING ANIMALS....... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anxiouslyfred · 4 years ago

Text

Secret Surprise Hell

Summary: Virgil would have thought his soulmate taking the time to plan a surprise party in so much secret he knew a lot of the details before anyone his soulmate knew in person sweet, except now he hates knowing the details and having to keep the person it’s for from finding out early.

/\/\

Knowing the secrets of someone you've never even met was a very very bizarre thing. Nobody quite knew what to make of the soulmate connection and everyone had very strong views about secrets, whether it was that they should keep everything hidden or reveal all constantly, but either way, they were deliberate over how they treated secrets.

Virgil wasn't sure if he liked keeping so many secrets, but when the world left him certain people would vilify him for everything, from the clothes he wore to the things he enjoyed not matching the popular ones, it just felt safer to keep them secret.

Occasionally he'd make a friend and try trusting them with some of who he is, and now even that felt like stealing the knowledge of his accidental secrets away from his soulmate. After all a secret shared by 2 people isn't really a secret at all when they know each other in person.

His soulmate however didn't seem to keep any particularly identifying secrets. The secrets that would appear in Virgil's mind were random, about places they went occasionally, or praises for someone called Roman. Why those things needed to be kept secret, he couldn't know without meeting his soulmate, but he kept note of them in a journal. At least nothing seemed likely to make him get his soulmate arrested over a secret.

There's been news reports over the years about soulmates getting each other arrested, or testifying against each other without actually meeting. It damaged both parties in that soulmate connection as people saw betraying the secrets of your soulmate with utmost scorn, no matter how reprehensible the acts they'd carried out were. Virgil dreaded the chance he could be in that situation, but whomever his soulmate was didn't seem likely to do that.

Currently they were planning a surprise birthday party actually. Virgil had been surprised that came to him as a secret since usually parties like that needed multiple people to plan and it had remained secret for long enough that he knew when the decorations would be brought and that his soulmate was getting them from a department store in the same chain he worked at. It could even be the same one given there had never been a clue over where his soulmate lived.

Virgil hadn't learnt much beyond that they'd come with their brother since that meant sharing the plans with someone else, but he was going to keep an eye out, especially in case anyone in blue or called Patton mentioned wanting birthday decorations. He knew that sometimes people planning surprise parties forgot to let their friends know they were remembered while planning it all. Blue had been mentioned way too much while Remus was planning the party entirely in secret so Virgil could only believe Patton liked the colour a lot.

By the time the day to get party decorations came around he'd grown more and more curious over if there was a way to plan a meet up, make secret arrangements just with himself to go somewhere specific enough his soulmate could meet him there. It was a futile dream and one Virgil couldn't imagine doing. He hated being around public spaces alone, and then the added anxiety of hoping his soulmate might actually try to turn up? It would never happen, but then again he was kind of doing the return with his reaction to this party.

“Come Onnnnnn! If we're going to get this party set up we need to get decorations and get home!” An obnoxiously loud whine brought Virgil out of his thoughts as a pair of twins came into the store. Really it was a guy in what seemed to be a see through green and black ice skating costume and combat boots was dragging someone identical to him but far more reasonably dressed into the store, already looking around to decide the direction they'd head in.

“Welcome to the store, how can I help you today?” Virgil recited, long since trained into greeting people, even if they clearly didn't need to.

The ice skater outfit twin glanced at him for a second. “If you have pinatas I need to know where and if I can beat them up before buying them!” He decided, completely seriously after a second.

“Or perhaps you could direct us to party decorations. My brother has decided to throw a surprise party for one of my friends.” The other interjected, straightening his jacket now the pull on his wrist was released.

“Someone Had Too and you, for all your bluster of being a courteous knight wouldn't even bring up his birthday at all, despite the hints he kept dropping about wanting to do something!”

Virgil interrupted with a quick cough, not wanting an argument to break out. “You want the back shelves, that corner and pinatas are like an aisle away from the decorations. That classes as a party game instead.” He directed, arm pointing through the small clothing section near the front of the store.

“We've got decorations to get and things to beat up then. See ya!” The ice skater uniform was once again dragging his twin away, already talking about the various other things the world said it was good to beat up against things it was bad to.

Once they were out of sight Virgil returned to thinking and just watching the doors, half wondering if the pair could have been connected or possibly even his soulmate and whomever they'd chosen to go shopping with. He could imagine ice skater in combat boots keeping some of the weird secrets he'd received over the years.

“Um, Hey, are there any party decorations in here?” A rather down trodden man had come in while Virgil was thinking. He was in a blue collared top, and had his arms wrapped around him trying to hug himself.

Slowly Virgil nodded, “Sure, but are you okay? You don't look much like you want a party currently.” He wouldn't normally ask a customer this, but even without the thoughts in his head that this could be Patton, he just thought the guy needed a friendly face.

“Friends all forgot my birthday, I guess I'll do something myself. Perhaps if I get a party set up and invite them over this evening I can have a small celebration or something?” The puppy dog eyes though the guys glasses were fatal, and Virgil definitely hoped this was Patton, or at least this guys friends were doing the same thing as his soulmate.

None of that could be said though, so Virgil dragged a hand though his hair. “That's rough, Buddy. Come on, I've finished my time as greeter and should check the shelves anyway. I'll show you where the cakes are and help carry any decorations you pick out once we get there.”

“You don't have to do that, Kiddo. Thank you, though. I'm Patton.” The thanks had Virgil shaking his head, but the name had him freezing. This was his soulmate's friend, or given the weird twins from earlier, his soulmate's brother's friend and definitely had a surprise party planned for him already. How the hell was Virgil going to not only keep him from spending too much on decorations, as well as away from the brothers, while still managing to meet his soulmate?

Either way he definitely was sticking with Patton now. “No, I insist. Come on, I know the nicer cakes we have in stock. What type of cakes do you like? Chocolate, plain with jam, decorated to look like character or animals? We've got something for everyone here.”

“Animals. I love puppies and kittens so if they're on anything I'll probably pick that. Some of my friends have allergies so I can't get a cake with nuts on it.” Patton was already seeming happier with his help, but paused for a moment. “If you're gonna be helping me so much Kiddo, can you tell me your name? These glasses aren't good for reading name tags quickly.”

“I'm Virgil, and now I can't decide if I should show you the latest tray of cupcakes we've started getting or one chocolate sponge I've been tempted to get a few times.” This was far more customer service filtering than Virgil usually did, but he could play sweetness and light for a while.

They were looking at the cupcakes when the twin in a red coat called over. “Hey, Patton, fancy seeing you here.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes to the end of the aisle he'd come from before turning around. With how loud the call was it screamed of distraction technique and if the ice skater dude was around Virgil was going to either give him a piece of his mind or make sure it was passed on to Patton's friends. “If this is one of your friends I should probably get back to stocking shelves before someone challenges what I've been doing.” He offered, seeing Patton glancing towards him.

“Gosh Kiddo, I hope I won't have gotten you in trouble.” Patton had those puppy dog eyes again.

“Nah, I'm pretty sure I've got a good excuse if they try anyway. We pride ourselves on customer service.” Virgil dismissed it, already heading out the aisle. “Hope you have a good birthday.”

Sure enough when he got to the aisle with birthday cakes on there was the dude in his ice skating costume. Virgil immediately marched over, more irritated he'd been caught in this entire thing than happy at the chance to meet his soulmate now.

“Next time you decide to keep a birthday party a secret go to some other bloody store. I did not need to have to distract Patton all because you and that idiot with you left him feeling abandoned on his birthday!” He got immediate attention on him, even with the completely bewildered gaze. “Also is your brother Roman, and that why you constantly have secrets thinking something he's made is good? Cause right now if Patton is his friend primarily I've got half a mind to go and yell at him. Your party for him better be good!”

The ice skater guy burst out laughing then, “Honey, I've imagined meeting my soulmate a million ways but never thought it would be telling me off in a supermarket! You're coming to this party now and I'll make sure you can corner Roman to yell at him too! Especially if I can watch with popcorn. Can you tell Jay and Lolo off at the same time? They've all said I'm making a big deal out of nothing trying to set up a surprise party for Patton, but he's done so many parties for all of us.”

“I'll add them to the list. Have they at least got birthday presents for him?” Virgil shrugged, not quite sure what to do with the sudden invitation, but it wasn't like he was doing anything that evening.

“If they didn't earlier they definitely will by now. I got my morning-star out to threaten them with when Logan tried claiming the fuss made of birthday's was excessive.” Remus agreed, already nodding before pouting. “Hang on, you've known me all of two seconds and have somehow decided to care about both Patton and me in that time? Why the hell is your biggest secret that you're lonely?”

Virgil was not here to get called out for his own issues. “Anger for being dragged into surprise party planning does not count as caring.”

“Yeah and Roman's artwork is as worthless as he claims when the shading goes slightly wrong. Pull the other one. You've latched on quickly.” Remus cut through any blustering arguments Virgil might have tried to say.

“Loud places or crowded places are way too stressful to talk to people in. Hell even here I stick to the tills whenever there's holidays coming up to avoid the crowds. Doesn't exactly help me make friends and any I had have long since vanished cause they liked them.” He shrugged, reaching for the cake Patton had almost gone for before deciding it would be too big for the amount of friends he thought might come over at short notice.

“Cake got, now for chocolate gateau so I can shove it in someone's face!” Remus bounced off, tugging Virgil along with him. “Also, since we're soulmate's I better be getting your number and address so I can turn up out of the blue randomly.”

Virgil snorted. “So you're going to stalk me under the pretence of getting to know me?”

“You know it, MarketKing, you know it!” Remus really was looking through the refrigerated aisles for gateaus, but still turned to leer momentarily at him.

“Just call me Virge, or Virgil. What's your name anyway? I kinda forgot about that since I already knew what you're doing.” He wasn't going to point out the chilled desserts were on the end of an aisle nearer the frozen foods. On the chance an employee figured out who their soulmate was while working they were allowed a margin of unproductive work time.

“Remus, although Duke or Dukey works too. It's fun to have Roman scream those nicknames after I've pranked him. Half the time he gets so embarrassed it's like a second part of the prank.” Remus cheerfully offered.

Whatever this surprise party was going to be, Virgil was definitely interested in where getting to know his soulmate would end up.

#dukexiety #soulmate au #remus sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #creativitwins #platonic intruality #platonic moxiety

27 notes · View notes

clonesandmoans · 4 years ago

Note

Wrecker test Jedi like Mr Incredible yeet Elastigirl

i wanna thank both of y’all for sending these in bc they gave me the first piece of clone inspo i’ve had in weeks and i really needed that. hopefully y’all won’t mind that this is more soft than comedic, maybe the 1k word count on this bad boy will make up for it. if it’s well-received, i might extend it on my personal? idk tho. but anywho, enjoy this fluff pile -jj

neither of you really intended for your relationship to go beyond what it was, what it always had been since you were folded into the ranks of the bad batch. the first instinct was to keep the clones at arm’s length, maintaining just enough friendliness to warrant trust on the battlefield but nothing more. growing attached wasn’t going to do anyone any good if you went and died on each other, but the longer you were both alive and around the other the harder it became to stomach it.

crosshair was far easier to be around than most would usually think. his low standards for others leave plenty of room for him to be pleasantly surprised when things go alright, so the occasional happier lilt in his voice is genuine and you know it is.

wrecker, though? despite the fact he let himself be read like a holonovel, it was like attempting to read a language you didn’t know. you had no idea how to talk to someone that was so open and honest, utterly devoid of any motives other than what he tells you. it was always “this means that” and “up means down” because not many people would trust a jedi so openly with their true feelings so brazenly.

but wrecker did. the more time spent with the enthusiastic animal loving pyro had him pouring his soul out to you right on the floor of the marauder. it was getting hard to not give him something back because you feared that he gave too much that he’d soon have nothing left.

so you tried to push away everything you’d been taught since the crèche about emotions and vulnerability and started to give pieces of yourself to wrecker and the guys. it worked wonders on missions, made you even more efficient because there was never a doubt whether someone would do what they said they would, be where they said they would be.

this newfound trust — along with what had turned out to be a trap — prompted the first throwing. the five of you were surrounded and almost everyone wounded in some form or another & escaping to higher ground meant life or death. you figured the plan would be for you to use the force and move them before bringing yourself to safety, but wrecker had other ideas.

once hunter’s mapped out an escape route, wrecker snatches tech by his back plates and throws as hard as he can. you’d never seen this display of strength and are absolutely gobsmacked, but you have the sense to use the force to push him a little farther and soften the landing. he does the same for hunter and crosshair and soon it’s just you and him left.

soon he’s right beside you and starting to grab you by the modified armor you wore painted in the same slate grey as the boys, but you moved from his reach the moment you felt him come towards you.

“let me throw you! you need to get with the others!”

“no! you won’t have a way to get to us!”

“i’ve got you for that, don’t i?”

there was something in his force signature, the trust and adoration, and something you didn’t have the experience to identify rolling into you like the waves of kamino against tipoca city. it told you that he knew with every fiber of himself that you were gonna get him out of there once you were safely on the ridge.

when he goes to grab you again you shake your head, pointing to a small area of respite from the droid’s blaster fire. you’re there in seconds and you can tell he’s wondering what you’re about to do but isn’t questioning whatever you’re thinking of. your lightsaber is quickly put away as your hands reach for his, giving them a soft squeeze before moving them together. he gets the hint to lock his fingers and he realizes how exactly he’s going to launch you.

the blaster fire was now centered on your little respite and it would only be minutes before they had you on the ground before them if you didn’t get out now. “on the count of three!” he nods quickly. “one, two, THREE!”

he put most of his strength behind that launch and you felt like you were flying. you turned your body towards him, back to your destination, and wrapped the force around wrecker, bringing him into the air with you.

he didn’t struggle against the hold you had on him, seeming to take comfort in the presence instead of being worried like you imagined he’d be with his discomfort for high places. oddly enough, he seemed to enjoy it, especially after you brought him even to you with a wide grin.

later, when asked about this moment, soaring through the air with his jedi while escaping from a seppie ambush, he’ll say that the only reason he wasn’t afraid of falling was because he knew you would catch him. he could feel your presence around him the entire time and nothing in him doubted that he was safe with you.

your recounting of the events that took place on that backwater planet have you reminiscent of the way he threw you, how you felt so free when soaring towards the rendezvous. it was nothing you’d felt before, nothing you thought you’d feel again until the next inevitable launching.

but then you’re back to the marauder and he collects you into his arms, holding you there as if you would be snatched away if he didn’t barricade you between them. he sinks to his knees with you and lets everything he’s feeling right then be known — the fear of losing you to the swarm in those final moments, the elation of feeling your force presence cocooning him like a soft blanket because that meant he had succeeded in protecting you, what he now told you was love with no words to be found.

and for the first time, you open yourself up the same as he did for you. showing yourself to someone else didn’t hurt the way your master had insisted it would. to you, it felt as if you were making a home in the arms of this clone, this man, this hero. if given the choice, you swear that you’d choose those arms over any temple.

#jj #vodka aunt #soft sunday #this is the most i’ve been inspired in weeks #thank you for this #wrecker #the bad batch #clone force 99 #my heart just puked all over the post #but in the good way

90 notes · View notes

kimkymury · 4 years ago

Text

Blue Rose Tears - Chapter 14

Hello again,

I’m back with another chapter of the Pascal x Carl fanfiction. The story is coming to an end, there will only be two more chapters before the Carl Messier saga comes to an end, so stay tuned in the next updates.

This chapter is softer and cuter, so prepare your hearts for the next ~

The Portuguese version of this story is available on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1048844817-as-l%C3%A1grimas-da-rosa-azul-cap%C3%ADtulo-14

I'm also posting the English version there, so if you want to follow it over there or reread a chapter, here it is: https://www.wattpad.com/story/262308791-blue-rose-tears

Under the cut!

Chapter 14

P.O.V Narrator

Carl's restlessness had persisted for three weeks, a period of time considered even short, but that was enough to depress him. He rubbed his pale hands together, trying to keep them from the cold. Winter had come, Lacombrade was surrounded by a vast white desert, which made the whole atmosphere of the place even darker. The school corridors managed to keep the temperature cool even on the hottest summer days, and now it looked like the walls were meant to freeze them.

The last month of the year always seemed to be the most physically demanding, getting out of bed in the morning became a more arduous task than usual. All he could think about was the comfort he would receive after the end of the school year, he could return to his family's house and spend Christmas with Sebastian. The sky was greyish in color, as if life was not present in that place, making everything even darker. But young students had no time to notice details like this, most of their time was spent preparing for final exams.

This time of year was both a delight and a torture, veterans were immensely concerned with the possible approval of a renowned university, while the other students focused on impressing their parents with good grades. There was a small portion that didn’t care about the tests, it was those repeating students, delinquents or even those who had no goal in mind for the coming year. Carl found himself in the large percentage who devoted themselves entirely to studying, putting other needs aside for a short period of time.

His thoughts could not keep his focus only on the books he studied, several flaws took his concentration, making him frustrated by wasting time. A red-haired figure was still rooted in his mind, for three weeks he had avoided contemplating the image of the scientist, but the memories of past moments were alive inside him. That was still something that depressed him daily, he felt empty and dejected, what most led him to exhaustion was to act normally for his friends, avoiding any suspicious behavior. But life was not in Carl's favor, as if that wasn't enough to make him gloomy, he had still received sudden news.

Serge had recently said that he needed to talk to Carl in private, and that the matter was of the utmost importance. The religious boy did not know what to expect, a part of himself just asked what it could be, but another small part, in which his subtle fixation by the pianist still existed, made him nervous. He said it directly, without outspokenness or worries, explained the whole situation to his friend. Serge and Gilbert were leaving for Paris next week, and they had no intention of returning. The concept of the idea itself did not startle Carl, he had already heard stories of students who left Lacombrade without authorization or notice, deciding to live on their own or with a partner elsewhere. But when it came to his friends, his reaction was different, he feared what might happen.

He knew that life in Paris would be complicated, especially for two young men who had not even reached the age of majority, and were marginalized by all of society. His first concern was whether his friends would have somewhere to sleep and what to eat, and how they would survive until Serge officially received his title of Viscount, along with his father's possessions and inheritance.

Knowing Gilbert, he imagined that it would not be easy for him to live in an environment where he would be completely unprotected, not to mention the absence of his social skills. There were no questions or doubts, he knew all of Serge's motivations and how difficult the last few days have been for both of them, as he and his roommate were forcibly separated. It was not the time to expose his own insecurities, he should support his friends, even if he did not agree with his choice. He felt lonely, even though he was not literally alone, but everything would change over time.

Everyone grows up someday, the days of youth would eventually end, but that does not mean that this process would not be painful. Perhaps that was his farewell, there was a chance he would never see them again, especially after graduation. Carl just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before, when his life was under control, when he was happier. His reaction was neutral when he received the news from Serge, he made his concerns evident, but he never failed to support him.

He even offered to help them pack their belongings and organize their luggage. It would be a difficult time for everyone, especially for them, any sign of positivity and help was welcome.

The pianist was delighted with the response of the religious boy, just as he expected, he spared no thanks before going.

"I knew I could count on you." - A simple sentence that meant a lot to Carl

Being alone again, the dark-haired boy was left to reflect on what he was doing. After only a few minutes, he was able to firmly understand the gravity of the situation, and his despair began to surface. Breaking one of the school rules was not what frustrated him the most, but to be witnessing a sin without intervening, the motivations of his friends' flight were diverse, but the relationship they had was what most influenced the decision.

Even if he wanted to, he could not deny the request coming from Serge, he would not endure the guilt he would feel at the thought that it did not help in any way. Looking more closely, when he looked at Serge and Gilbert together, he didn't see anything negative. He felt a certain relief when he saw them close, as if this situation were natural and common, thoughts of judgment rarely appeared.

He recognized that the independence of the pianist would be extremely useful to live alone in Paris, but what intrigued him the most was how the blond boy's adaptation would take place. He hadn't handled changes, rules or responsibilities in general well, but Carl didn't criticize him for that, he just wished he didn't suffer. The empathy he felt for Gilbert gradually increased, and it was not long since he had an experience that made him look at it differently.

~ FlashBack from two weeks ago ~

Carl's warm breath left a mark in the air as he exhaled the cold winter air, with his clothes made especially for this harsh season, he felt protected from the cold that surrounded him. He was beginning to regret having gone for a walk around the school, he did not imagine that the thick layer of snow that covered the earth could slow his steps. The only sounds he could hear were the noises of the few animals that had not heard, along with the sound of the wind passing through the dry branches of the trees.

Nothing would be different from what he was used to, except for one detail that caught his attention, they were low noises that seemed to come from close by. He could not immediately identify what it was about, he imagined that it could be some wounded or abandoned animal, but as he followed the sound, he was surprised by what he saw.

A boy whose skin could camouflage himself in the snow thanks to his coloring, lying face down, totally immobile. Only a thin piece, which resembled sleeping clothes, covered his torso, leaving the rest of his body exposed. His blond hair covered his face, making it impossible to decide whether he was conscious or not. Around him there were red spots, together on his body and on the fabric that covered him, which made him resemble a deceased.

For a few seconds, Carl felt completely frozen, there was no reaction. His heart started to race, he quickly knelt beside the body, checking immediately if there was any sign of life left in him. He was not as surprised as he expected, after all, it was Gilbert, he had already seen him in situations similar to this one, although it was not as serious as this time. He turned him over and placed him in his arms, relieved to see that his cheeks were flushed and that he was breathing.

There was a cut on his lips, the red liquid spread over a part of his face, making Carl even more tense when he saw him in that state. He should call for help, leaving Gilbert in such a sick state in such precarious conditions could be considered a homicide. The school was a few meters from where they were, the blond boy visibly could not walk, he could barely stay fully awake. The religious boy would have to carry him until he found someone who could help him, which immediately made him think of Pascal.

It was not the time for such thoughts to take hold of him, his greatest concern was to keep Gilbert alive, he could not bear to see him leave precisely in his arms, when he could save him.

"Gilbert, answer me, please! Can you hear me?" - He asked distressed, fearing that the worst had happened.

The younger boy's icy hands moved in vain, trying to reach something that didn't exist, while his lips trembled due to the low temperature. He was staring at a specific point, although he blinked a few times, before looking at whoever held it.

"Serge ..." - A faint murmur came out in an almost inaudible tone, a single word was able to sadden Carl.

Gilbert did not care for himself, at no time did he cry out for help or any kind of comfort, he just longed for the presence of his beloved pianist. He didn't think he could be confused with Serge, so he supposed it was a request for him to be taken to him. The communication methods of the green-eyed boy were confusing, subjective and not always coherent, but those who knew him the longest could understand. Carl quickly removed his coat and put it around Gilbert, trying to keep him warm; and with a handkerchief that he kept in his pocket, he wiped away most of the blood that spread on his face.

"I will have to carry you, please, hold on a little longer!" - Wrapping his arms around his thin, weak body, he used all the strength he had to get him out of the snow and take him to school.

It was easier than he imagined, the blond boy's lightness made him easy to hold, it made him increase his speed in the direction he had come from. Along the way, he constantly checked vital signs by pressing his hand on Gilbert's chest, where he could feel the slight contractions of breathing and heartbeat. Upon entering Lacombrade, he quickly ran to the infirmary, asking for immediate help and handing the boy over to one of the teachers to put him on a bed. It didn't take long before more people came to know what happened, but the only thing that interested him was Serge.

Carl managed to catch sight of him from a distance, and waved as he came running towards her. He was taken by surprise, a desolate embrace enveloped him, he had to hold on to whoever was in front of him so as not to lose his balance.

"We were told what happened, we came as quickly as we could, Pascal and Kurt will be here soon"- The pianist wraps around him in torment, his voice could express the pain he felt.

Still in silence, he hugged him back, saying words of comfort to calm him down. He doubted his own words, prayed internally that Gilbert would resist, he couldn't leave now. His condition was serious, perhaps worse than the other occasions that found him injured. They were anxiously waiting for Professor Watts to bring good news, he still remembered the blond boy's expression when he stared at him. Time passed quickly, Pascal's medical care would certainly make a difference in Gilbert's improvement. He was still asleep, only one of the boys could enter at a time, which made everyone even more anxious.

The countless thanks from Serge soothed him, as he knew he had been useful, and if he hadn't made the decision to go for a walk, the blond boy would probably not be among them.

Carl was the last to enter the room where Gilbert rested, accepting only by requests from his friends and teachers, since he was the one who had saved him from death. The sight of the young blond man sleeping soundly was a relief to the religious boy, he could observe the movements of his breathing, and his appearance seemed healthier. He approached lightly and cautiously, already imagining a possible outbreak from the blond boy, similar in other situations that occurred in the past when they tried to help him.

The eyes of the one who slept before opened slowly, trying to understand what was happening and where he was. To the surprise of the dark-haired boy, there was no aggressive or immediate reaction, it was as if he was conscious all this time. Gilbert looked at Carl with his usual empty expression, which left him a little scared and at the same time paralyzed, he feared the younger boy, even if he did not admit it, perhaps because he did not fully understand him.

"Where did you bring me?" - A low and soft voice asked, without showing much emotion.

"We are in the infirmary, how are you feeling?" -He replied hesitantly, since he had not had the chance to have a dialogue considered "appropriate" with Gilbert.

The blond boy sat on the bed, despite the protests of the dark-haired boy, saying that he shouldn't be bothered and needed to rest. He wrapped himself in the blankets and covered his face with his hands, as if he were avoiding being seen in such a vulnerable state.

"You didn't have to do that ... I would be better out there." - Gilbert said as he rested his head on his knees, raising just a little to look at him.

He could feel his pain with just one sentence, knew his "bad habits", knew that he tried several times to take his own life. A feeling of sadness invaded Carl, even though he didn't know him well enough to give his opinion on something, he didn't want to see him suffering like that.

"I had to do it, you would die if you were still there!" -Carl said anguished, not understanding the reason behind Gilbert's behavior, and blamed himself for having sounded more emotional than he expected.

There was a silence, none of them said anything else after that, and the religious boy felt that he should go back to his own room. Gilbert was safe and he had been useful, just as he should have been. He said goodbye and started walking towards the door, stopping in front of it after hearing something.

"Thank you ..." - The green-eyed boy said as he watched him leave the infirmary, in an almost inaudible and emotionless voice on his face.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" - Thinking he was wrong, Carl asks what was said, he never heard Gilbert say something like that.

"I said thank you, now leave me alone ..." - He replied, using an arrogant tone this time, making it evident that he was not comfortable saying this kind of thing.

The religious boy did as he was asked, but from this day on, he started to have more compassion for Gilbert, seeing him in a more humanized way. The blond boy felt that he could trust Carl, if only a little. Both established a bond that determined the beginning of a friendship, perhaps in a peculiar and dark way, but it was still important.

~ End of Flashback ~

Thoughts like this made the future farewell a difficult task, but his restlessness was filled daily with studies and chores, which took up most of his time as the end of the year approached. His winter afternoons, which in the past used to be quiet, were now spent within the Church, taking up full-time Bible studies. He had decided to dedicate himself to Theology after graduation, leaving Lacombrade in about a year or two, along with the memories he created there.

The innumerable verses were not enough to erase the images that haunted him, the moments he spent in the greenhouse or in the laboratory were still fresh in his mind. He constantly martyred himself, because even after he left the scientist, his presence continued as much in his life as in his thoughts. None of his friends had known of the disagreement that had occurred between them, which made it all the more difficult, since they saw each other frequently and could not make evident the coldness with which they treated each other.

The days that followed had not been easy for Pascal either, he could hardly keep his concentration on his experiments, and his failures frustrated him more than usual. From the laboratory window, he could occasionally watch Carl walking around or heading towards the Church, and this was a way to fill his loneliness. He was preparing to leave Lacombrade in a few weeks, but his main concern at the moment was with the escape of his friends. He had carefully planned how he could help, and all the advice he could give before he left.

His letter to the German University had been answered recently, along with an invitation to the admission test that would guarantee his entry, even with his poor academic performance. For days he had been rehearsing inside his head how he would say this to others, he did not worry about their reaction, he already imagined it would be at least positive. What distressed him was the dark-haired boy, according to the circumstances, it was not appropriate to just say it as he would have done in the past, but he could not leave in secret. At the same time that he yearned for new opportunities and a decrease in his pain, he knew that he would suffer for not having him around, and that made him reflect more than he would like.

Pascal was to leave with the veterans, travel to the neighboring country to accomplish his parents' ambition, and which in the future would become his own. His departure date would be close to when Serge and Gilbert left for Paris, the second week of December would be one of the most turbulent. Part of the luggage was ready, the farewell and thank you cards were already written, it was enough to wait anxiously for that day. He still had one more concern, he didn't tell anyone he was leaving Lacombrade, and he had no idea how to do it. He reluctantly made the decision to tell his closest friends about his departure, and kindly asked them not to say anything to Carl, as he wanted to say it on another occasion. The boys were suspicious, which was in fact natural, as they assumed he would be the first to know, but they listened to the scientist and did what was asked.

His sisters and parents were informed afterwards, they would probably receive his letter after departure, but he explained in detail the reasons for his choice and what he would do next. In the letter, he said goodbye to each of his sisters, asking them how they were doing and making them promise to keep in touch.

Dorothy, Mei, Nina, Lila, Sonya and, her favorite among all, Patricia; he expressed the immense longing to have them close by, and that he would endeavor to make them proud. He reserved a part of his letter dedicated to his parents and his half brother, Michel, who had recently fallen ill again. He couldn't help it and was a little thrilled by rereading the words dedicated to his younger brother, he was very concerned about his fragile health and recommended frequent rest and healthy eating.

Part of his duties had been done, now he must prepare himself to be as convenient as possible to assist Serge and Gilbert's escape. He then decided to write a series of instructions, recipes and advice for when they are in Paris, and knowing the blond boy well, he focused on teaching the pianist to take care of injuries and advising him on how to deal with possible outbreaks of his companion. The written pages were carefully folded and placed inside a small wooden box, where there were some medicines, produced by Pascal himself. This served both as a substitute doctor and as a reminder of him. A considerable amount of money was placed in the middle of the medications, just before being closed and tied tightly with a ribbon, in order to withstand the long journey.

The redhead sighs looking at the calendar again, the end of the year was approaching faster than he would have liked, and to make matters worse, it was not ending the way he would have liked. The classes that day had ended, the scientist insisted on attending all of them, as he wished to have Lacombrade's memories recorded in his mind. There was nothing more to be done, he could do whatever he wanted until nightfall, boredom chased him as he walked slowly through the laboratory. Harvesting specimens of plants that survived the winter did not sound bad, it would be a good distraction to prevent bad thoughts from depressing him.

With reasonably slow steps and a calm expression, Pascal heads for the greenhouse, passing the corridors full of students. That everyday scene managed to awaken a feeling of nostalgia in him, which made him happy and saddened at the same time. In the midst of that crowd, the faces of the boys who walked there were mixed and confused, he was unable to recognize them, except for one in particular. A boy with white skin and a little pink from exposure to low temperature, with perfectly combed dark hair, came towards him while carrying a small pile of books.

They walked in opposite directions, there was not even an exchange of glances, both went on their way without imagining what was going on in the other's mind. The dark-haired young man hid the tension he had felt when he saw the scientist in a discreet way, rushing his steps to the library, while trying to appear overly frightened not to arouse suspicion. His efforts were not in vain, Pascal firmly believed that his presence was not noticed and there was no relevance to Carl, which hurt him deeply. The attention of those who wanted it so much and who had always been by his side, was now a very rare event to happen, and it was always covered by a thick layer of coldness and formality.

He rubbed his hands, warmed by wool gloves, in order to relieve the pain he felt at his fingertips. There were few species of plants that were able to withstand the dense layers of snow, most of which consisted of dry branches or leaves that could fall apart with a single touch. Walking in a straight line, he crossed a part of the forest and ended up finding a large building in front of him. It was the well-known chapel of Lacombrade, he did not agree with the choice of name, the structure was too majestic, a masterpiece of architecture to be considered just a chapel.

It had been some time since he had visited such a place, he would go only in times of extreme need, he was not interested in religion at all. Even with his lack of belief in the divine, he could not deny that he was able to admire every part of that wonderful building, he was enchanted by the details and the grandeur of the torrers. He watched the small snowflakes falling delicately in different regions, especially under a cross that was at the top of the Church. It was this same cross that facilitated the identification of the building over long distances, and it was the one that cast a long shadow on summer afternoons, where the sun was in the perfect position.

The scientist remained motionless for a few seconds, lost in thought, and feeling foolish for what he was about to say to himself:

"I doubt your existence, I don't think you are around here or anywhere else." - He said in an almost inaudible tone of voice, still keeping his eyes towards the sky - "But if it is, do not allow that depressive countenance to remain on Carl's face ..."

He did not believe that his words could change anything, he quickly moved away from the Church and walked in a random direction, berating himself for speaking to a being, who for Pascal, was nonexistent. His words might seem vague, but his intentions did not, he could see the changes in the religious boy's behavior from a distance. He no longer smiled as often, he isolated himself from his other companions, with whom he had always accompanied him before.

He could use whatever excuses he wanted, he didn't want to appear arrogant, but he felt that such changes had occurred thanks to what they felt for each other. Pascal still remembered perfectly the moment when Carl confessed everything he felt, remembered how strong his heart was beating and the feeling of the last time they embraced.

The same boy who missed him so much, was now surrounded by books, forcing himself to keep his eyes open and continue to read them. The most varied subjects were not enough to keep him focused, his mind was often lost in thoughts that he wanted to avoid. The causes of his distraction were the most diverse, he was concerned about the escape plan that would take place on Friday night, he feared that his lack of concentration would hamper his performance in the final tests.

It wasn't just that that troubled him, Pascal's image came to mind when he least expected it. He missed his presence, his conversations, having him around and all the good times they shared, delving into this type of memory was what made him worse. But there were other sensations that young Carl remembered more than he would like, he lowered his head when he remembered the arms around him, and the texture of his lips next to his. He felt like a failure for not being able to forget, but deep down, he wished he could experience it all again.

The dark-haired boy reflected on how difficult the past weeks had been, it frustrated and tired him. He felt prickled in his head, which made it more difficult for him to concentrate and caused continuous discomfort. Such pain was caused by the excess of alcohol he had consumed the night before, he used to drink when he felt frustrated, but what was something occasional, started to be a recurring habit.

Most of the time, the amount was not enough to make him drunk, but the dark-haired boy had crossed his limits yesterday. He needed to get his feelings out, his frustrations were too heavy for him to carry on in silence. The bottles hidden in his closet were his confidants, the only ones that saw him in his most deplorable state.

He felt weak, he knew it would happen if he drank more than he was used to, so why did he insist on continuing? He was becoming what he promised not to become, he feared that those bad habits were his only reason for living.

Fiery waters erode inside him, inflict so much pain on him that he is able to forget what it really hurts.

"The only moments I stop thinking about this is when I can't even think ..."

His greatest comfort was the calendar, the days passed quickly and the moment when he returned home was getting closer and closer. That year's vacation would be a good one, he could stay with his family during the holidays, and maybe even travel together. He planned every detail of the next two months in his head, which served as a distraction and gave him hope. He would participate in dances, he could cycle around the house with Sebastian, just like when they were younger; he would wake up without the worries and fear of judgment.

He would walk the long corridors of his house, listening only to the sound of his own steps, read all the books he wished and enjoy the visits of family and friends. It all seemed too perfect, and it really was, all he wanted most were moments of joy like these. But everything was still not quite right, the harsh reality would come back to haunt him at the beginning of the following year.

He would feel even more alone, thinking about how Serge and Gilbert would be living on their own in Paris, facing the dangers that surrounded Lacombrade outside.

He focused on what was about to happen, he would need to be there that needed his help, he could take care of his own problems alone, after everything was over. Everyone had been informed in detail about the big day, counting down the minutes to Friday night, where they allowed friends to achieve freedom and hope for a happier life. Carl felt anxious, feared that they would be discovered, that something unexpected would happen, or worse, that they would not be able to survive outside.

This was his biggest fear at the moment, he realized recently that his feelings towards the pianist had diminished considerably. He no longer saw him as an idol or someone unreachable for some time, his presence turned into something normal, and his anguish about this matter seemed to be finally disappearing.

There was only one thing about Serge that Carl longed for: his happiness. He was delighted at how devoted, loyal and enamored the pianist was for his blond companion, when he saw them together, it was as if they could complement each other in some way. He saw them as opposites, which was really true, but they worked perfectly well together.

They were kindred spirits, that was a fact, however immoral and sinful Carl might find, he somehow wanted to experience it. He dreamed of being able to have someone by his side, someone who knew him better than anyone else and that he felt completely comfortable being himself. The young Carl Messier longed for someone to love, and when he was finally able to find ...

The sentence was not completely formulated in his mind, because soon after he started to cry among the books, silently and with caution so that he would not be noticed by the other students. He begged for forgiveness and to give him strength, it was the moment when he needed it most.

A few days have passed since what happened in the library, which Carl would rather not remember and imagine that nothing happened. He was now in room 17, surrounded by suitcases and crates, along with his friends. They had agreed to assist Serge and Gilbert in packing their belongings before the trip, since all help was welcome and it was another opportunity to spend a moment together before leaving. That half of the second week of December had been hectic for everyone, those who were staying were busy preparing for the final exams, and those who were leaving longed for their longed-for freedom, and took every possible care not to be discovered.

The room seemed even smaller with the number of people present; Kurt and Neka, boasting of their physical strength and athletic build, chose to carry whatever was heavier. Serge and Gilbert carefully removed their clothes from the closet and folded them on the bed, the blond boy preferred to do this silently and alone, while the pianist talked to little Sebastian, who helped him with the task. And lastly, Pascal and Carl arranged the books in small piles and tied them up so they wouldn't be wrinkled during the trip. Although they did the same task, the two boys remained physically distant, each preferring to occupy an opposite side of the room.

The presence of everyone made the atmosphere more pleasant, although they had to pretend that nothing had happened between the two, that they remained close as always. This made the situation even more embarrassing for both of them, who struggled to maintain physical and emotional distance.

There were many moments when they exchanged glances across the room, they looked at each other frequently and tried to hide it afterwards, they could feel the tension rising in the air. The little space did not contribute to the distance, since they had to get out of the way so that Kurt and Neka could carry the heaviest luggage around the room. They were sitting on the bed of Serge, the red-haired scientist with Carl, beside a pile of books and other objects. Gilbert sat on his own bed, close to Serge and Sebastian, who watched the other two boys position their bags in the center of the room.

The religious boy greatly appreciated the fact that his brother was sociable enough to be able to hold a conversation for a long time, preventing the awkward silence from taking over the room.

The body language of Pascal and the boy who was now sitting next to him could not deceive anyone. They avoid eye contact and act as if the presence of the other does not exist, hoping that this will not be seen strangely. In a moment of carelessness, where everyone engaged in casual conversation, Carl was distracted from the subject and lost himself in his thoughts. He admired Pascal carefully, watching the details of his appearance and trying to see if anything had changed during the time they stayed away.

His red, tousled hair remained the same, perhaps a little longer than he had noticed the last time, sometimes falling in front of his eyes. Carl realized what he was doing, and punished himself mentally for it, the withdrawal would be of no use if his mentality remained the same. He didn't know how long he had fixed his eyes on the red-haired boy, but he just hoped it wasn't long enough to be noticed. Unfortunately, the person the religious boy had so praised earlier for keeping the conversation flowing was responsible for exposing what he so longed to hide.

"What's the matter, Carl? Do you see something that caught your attention?" - The younger boy said, mocking his brother.

He hesitated to answer for a second, everyone was looking at him curiously now, he felt frozen and avoided this as much as possible. He made a point of mentally recalling having a conversation with Sebastian later, being irritated by looking like a fool. His brother looked at him with a mischievous smile, as if he knew something

"What are you talking about? Don't change the subject so suddenly." - Carl luckily was able to formulate a convincing sentence, he returned to the topic that was being discussed before Sebastian's provocation

Fortunately, there was not much more to be done, in a few minutes they all went back to their respective rooms. The corridor of room 17 was empty now, except for the presence of two brothers, who enjoyed the silence to talk. Carl made Sebastian wait for everyone to leave to talk to him, he seemed authoritarian, but that didn't bother his younger brother. The younger boy already hoped that his antics would have a consequence, but that only served to amuse him even more. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a smile on his face, Sebastian asks his brother:

"What would you like to talk about, Carl?"

Cynical as always, it irritated the older brother from time to time, because he did not have this malice when he was his age. Discussions between them were rare, Carl usually scolded him and he smiled as if he didn't care.

"Keep your inopportune comments to yourself ..." - He replied with a serious expression, trying to command respect, which didn't work much.

Sebastian never saw him as an authority figure, even though he tried very hard to make it happen, in the end he was still his good older brother, victim of his mischief. His comment did not bother the youngest boy at all, on the contrary, he only made him smile before positioning himself in front of him. With a childish and innocent laugh, the younger brother subtly mocked the sermon he was receiving.

"Be smart, hiding that you love someone makes everything more noticeable, I've told you that before!" - Sebastian said before running out towards his own room, which was in the opposite direction from room 17.

The religious boy, perplexed by what he had just heard, did not answer anything and stayed there for a few moments. He did not believe that someone as young as his brother, managed to understand the real reason for his behavior. He wondered what else he could know and be omitting, he feared rumors would spread through Lacombrade, since his brother was Rosemariné's assistant. He would be more cautious from now on, especially with Sebastian, as his childish appearance was only a cover for his great intelligence. Indeed, one of the most pure and naive young men, he had the precocious brother he could ever have.

Continued in the next chapter

Written by KimKymury, Thank you for reading it <3

7 notes · View notes

trulisthetic · 4 years ago

Note

I had a bad day today. I did something stupid and got in an online argument with someone who told me that Jim and Pam were an unhealthy couple. I told her why I don't think that's the case without insulting her and got shot down anyway. What would you make of it?

This turned into a monster-post. Oops.

First and foremost, I’m really sorry that you had a bad day. My understanding is that that “someone” wasn’t very kind and respectful to you even though you were towards them. You know, the internet is such a wild place. Under the cover of online profiles we create for ourselves we sometimes act in ways we wouldn’t in real life. We forget that there is an actual person on the other end and not a heartless machine. And being on the receiving end of that... well, it sucks. I’m sorry you had to deal with that today.

I get that you feel like you did something stupid - because yes, online arguments don’t often get us anywhere, they only end up frustrating us, even hurting us sometimes. But trust me when I tell you this: If you were respectful and didn’t insult her, then you did absolutely nothing wrong. This wasn’t your fault. They’re the only ones accountable for their behavior. I get that you feel off right now, but really, all you can do from this point forward is; just keep swimming :P

All that aside, not everyone is going to agree on everything at that is granted. And it is okay. That’s what makes the people that think like us and share our interests so special and beautiful in our eyes, you know? It’s okay if somebody on the internet doesn’t think Jim and Pam are a healthy couple. Maybe they trigger something for them - a reminder of a past relationship that didn’t end well. Or maybe there is no reason for it - this is just the way they view it. All of those are fine, everyone is entitled to an opinion. I would even be interested in hearing them out, because, honestly, I can’t think of how Jim and Pam’s relationship could possibly be considered unhealthy. But from what I understand - and correct me if I’m wrong! It’s just what I got from the way you phrased your question - the person you argued with didn’t really have many points themselves, they were just arguing for the sake of arguing, finding problems when there really weren’t any. And that’s what’s really problematic. When people go out and shout accusations of unhealthy and problematic and abusive relationships, all they do is make a fool out of the REAL problematic and abusive ones. And that’s the true tragedy in all this.

Now onto Jim and Pam themselves. It never even occurred to me that this would be an issue; their relationship being considered ‘unhealthy’.

Since day one, Jim and Pam have always ALWAYS brought out the best in one another. And I believe that anyone who argues on this point in particular has been watching a different show. I mean seriously, they were written this way. Their love was, to its core, written to be of the purest kind. They have a strong base as friends, which is the best foundation you can have in a relationship. And they’ve always been each other’s “person”, since the first season. The one they turn to every time they have a problem, like when Pam is frustrated with Roy, or when Jim dies of boredom. They’re partners in crime, their time together is full of the most awe-worthy combination of mischief and touching moments, and just... joy. Have you seen two people happier to just be with each other’s presence? Have you seen anyone’s eyes light up the way Jim’s does every time Pam “chooses him” when she’s “bored” or when she tells him he has “very nice teeth”? Have you seen on anybody else's face that wide smile (with the tongue peeking between the teeth) that Pam gets every time Jim takes a second too long to choose a jellybean flavor, or buys her a coke for a round of jinx? Those two bring the greatest amount of joy to each other, while doing the smaller, most insignificant things. The only thing that could possibly make them wrong would be if their relationship was toxic.

And Jim and Pam’s relationship is not toxic.

Let's look at some signs of a toxic relationship okay?

It feels bad. All the time. Well. I kinda just went through that. The only times it’s felt bad for them was when they were apart, in season 3 mostly, and then in season 9. And yes, they had marital problems. So, SO many couples do, if not every single one. They handled one situation poorly, and it backfired on them, and they drifted apart. And then they found their way back to each other. At this point, I want to quote one of my favorite pieces of writing, ever. I use it a lot, but it applies here so perfectly, so... @acutelesbian said: “A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life. Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.” A while later, she reblogged her own post and added: “I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class. After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort. She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice. Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation. The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with. The divorced ones said they chose to walk away. Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days. I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.” There it is. So. Jim and Pam had some issues during season 9. They didn’t communicate well, they made some poor choices, they didn’t handle the situation they were thrown in very gracefully. And yet they made a choice, the choice to stay and push and fight for their relationship. They went to therapy, together. They opened up, discussed their feelings, communicated, worked out a solution. They chose each other, even though at the time they weren’t each other’s favorite person. They went through a rough patch and came out of it together, stronger than ever. And HAPPY. If that’s not the epitome of a healthy relationship, then I don’t know what the fuck is. Having said all that, I think I also covered these signs of a toxic relationship:

You avoid saying what you need because there’s just no point.

There’s no effort.

Nothing gets resolved. So let's move on to the next ones.

You’re constantly braced for the ‘gotcha’. This is for when there’s a trap in every statement or question, and even though everyone makes mistakes, yours are used as proof that you’re too uninvested, too wrong, too stupid, too something. And this is seriously as far from Jim and Pam as humanly possible. They’re seriously the exact opposite of that, always lifting each other up and supporting one another through their mistakes.

When ‘no’ is a dirty word. “I think I want a wedding-wedding.” “Cranford? No.” “I don’t know if I want this.” “I don’t think you should go to Philly tonight.”

The score card. Let me show you how wrong you are. Before they were together, they both had some “weak” moments, during which they didn’t exactly act fairly. Not once in all these years have we EVER seen one call the other out on their past mistakes. They’re not keeping score, they’re discussing them, dealing with them and moving on. There isn’t a more mature way to go about this.

There’s a battle – and you’re on your own. Again. In every chance they get, in any problem they face with third persons, they always stand by the other’s side and lift them up and support them. Just like when Pam was there for Jim when Ryan made his life hard in s4, or when Dwight terrorized him with the snow in s7. And just like when Jim made the list for Pam when Robert California set her aside, or when he demanded answers by her side from the dude who did call “a dork like that” back. Those two are a team, and not just when they’re planning ways to prank Dwight, or they’re sharing looks across the room over how ridiculous Michael is being.

Privacy? What privacy? Oh, I LOVE this one about them. How they get to be individuals and they are not defined by one another. They get their private time, private hobbies, and that’s such a healthy part of a relationship that so many just overlook. The only time that wasn’t the case was when they were using the world’s smallest Bluetooth - but it was so obvious that they were both craving it so much because they were missing each other, and they were both more than comfortable with it. Until that conversation with her classmate happened, which I’m sure signaled the end of that way of communication for them. But remember all those months they were apart? Remember how Jim TURNED BACK halfway to New York because “I’m not that guy. And we’re not that couple”? Remember how respectful they’ve always been of each other’s need for privacy?

The lies. Oh the lies! The only lie between the two (If you don’t count the “I can’t” of Casino Night and the “It was three years ago. I’m totally over it.” of The Secret) was when Jim didn’t tell Pam that he started a business in Philly. Which he told her an episode late, by himself. And it served as the perfect opportunity to show just how steady the foundations of their relationship are, and how much they trust and faith they have in one another and in their love. I’ll never forget how Pam reacted to realizing that Jim is keeping something from her. She didn’t call him out or corner him for answers, she simply waited for him to tell her when he’s ready. Then when the idea of an affair was thrown on the table, Pam shrugged it off, saying “Jim? No. He loves me too much”. And it’s not easy to say that theoretically, much along actually act on it. But when in season 8 Kathy hit on Jim while they were in that hotel, there’s a deleted scene of Jim and Pam on the phone, and Pam is actually joking about the whole thing. It’s impressive and miraculous just how deeply these two trust each other, and believe that they would never hurt the other like that.

Physical or verbal abuse. Or both. We’ve seen Pam being handled roughly by Roy, and then we’ve seen the way Jim treats her, like she’s the most precious butterfly. And HEAVEN HELP ME, the guy was too scared to look at her for too long in the beginning. He’s the most gentle and caring man I’ve seen, in words and actions alike. And the very same goes for Pam. The only time she’s spoken badly to him was when she said “Shut it” as she was storming off Michael’s office when she found out he was dating her mom and Jim knew. And she was clearly very upset and not acting like herself. But we can all agree that this is not a pattern of behavior, and that Jim and Pam have NEVER, EVER been abusive towards one another.

Not including the other in big decisions. This is the only one that’s kinda true. Jim decided to buy his parents’ house, then decided to start a business, then Pam decided to sell the house, all without including the other. Despite those, that was an issue that they were not blind towards, and Pam even brought it up in season 9, and it was one of the problems they worked through at couples therapy. And that’s exactly what a healthy and mature relationship looks like.

So there you have it. Those are the main signs of an unhealthy relationship. Wanna hear the definition of a healthy one?

A healthy relationship is when two people develop a connection based on: Mutual respect. Trust. Honesty. Support. Fairness/equality. Separate identities. Good communication. A sense of playfulness/fondness.

In a healthy relationship you:

Take care of yourself and have good self-esteem independent of your relationship

Maintain and respect each other’s individuality

Maintain relationships with friends and family

Have activities apart from one another

Are able to express yourselves to one another without fear of consequences

Are able to feel secure and comfortable

Allow and encourage other relationships

Take interest in one another’s activities

Do not worry about violence in the relationship

Resolve conflict fairly: Fighting is part of even healthy relationships, the difference is how the conflict is handled. Fighting fairly is an important skill you help you have healthier relationships

Have respect for sexual boundaries

Are honest about sexual activity if it is a sexual relationship

Accept influence. Relationships are give and take; allowing your partner to influence you is important; this can be especially difficult for some men.

Trust each other and be honest with each other

Have the option of privacy

Now, let us all think each and every one of those through. And let’s think about it twice before we accuse perfectly healthy relationships of being toxic.

That’s all I have to say. Sorry, this was so long, and thank you for staying to this point!

All I know is that, for me, Jim and Pam’s relationship - along with that of my parents’ - is the healthiest one my eyes have ever seen. And I feel so lucky to have discovered those two gems. 💜

#jam #jim and pam #pam and jim #jim halpert #Pam Beesly #healthy relationship #the office #the office us #rambles #masterpost #monsterpost #qs & as #Anon #answered

45 notes · View notes

xojo · 4 years ago

Text

Submitted by @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover the world renowned poem interpreter who has kindly agreed to interpret the verse I wrote in honour of the great @landsword 💕

A Dissertation of Poetry.

“Poetry is what happens when nothing else can.” Charles Bukowski’s words have never rung truer than when we address Tumblr User @xojo’s masterpiece. But sometimes, poetry brings with it just about everything else too. The poem I’ll be discussing today is a paragon of this paradox, for @xojo has managed to capture the soul of literary prose, in the endearing brevity of a rhyme - keeping things easily graspable, and yet, profoundly multifaceted. In this essay, I will

(haha! gotcha!)

At first glance, the poetess tells us of the young owner of a soft-toy - or plushie, if you will - describing him in chaste detail. She is clearly well-acquainted with the child, as she says she greets him in the fourth line, and proceeds to apprise us of his sleep routine at the end. On reading it the first time, I was enchanted by its subtle complexity. The next time only showed me more layers. It was at least the third time - the charmed time, even - when it began to fall into place. I cannot claim to be completely accurate in my deciphering, but I shall try to present my views in an understandable sequence and dialect, and summarize my take at the end.

Whose plushie pillow is that? I think I know.

Its owner is quite happy though.

Full of joy like a vivid rainbow,

I watch him laugh. I cry hello.

As most enigmas begin, the poetess starts with a rhetoric. She knows the answer to the question she’s asked - and we’re the ones who don't. This reversal of order is representative of the way the Universe works. However, as we progress, we’ll learn that it’s more about a particular relationship, than that which beings of the earth have with the beyond. More on that later. The poetess goes on to say that this ‘plushie’ makes its owner as happy as a rainbow - which has been known to be a symbol of love, pride, and joy for centuries. In the next verse, the happy child laughs. Why? We’ve not been told yet. We’re back to the rhetorics, except this one was unspoken. We’re traversing from the obvious to the unknown. The insane. The poetess ‘cries’ hello. It’s only appropriate. Subtly, she’s welcoming us into this journey we’ve decided to embark upon. We return her greeting, and march on.

He gives his plushie pillow a shake,

And laughs until his belly aches.

The only other sound's the break,

Of distant waves and birds awake.

In this stanza, the poetess finally divulges why the boy laughed. He’s laughing again as well. What’s causing this excessive laughter? It’s the shaking of the ‘plushie pillow’. This clearly implies something strange about the pillow. Again, the matter is dropped abruptly - and we’re left thinking. Are we to fill the blank with our imagination? Or will the answer be revealed further by her? Worry not, for we commence to the next stanza immediately - as the lines at the end are a rather generic way of introducing a setting. It’s early, and there’s a beach - we get it. Tell us about the plushie.

The plushie pillow is big, soft and deep,

But he has promises to keep,

After cake and lots of sleep.

Sweet dreams come to him cheap.

Big, soft and deep - she claims. Obviously, she’s touched it before. If the boy’s let her touch his toy, she must have been somebody he trusts. A babysitter? Neighbor? Nothing is told. Further, she tells us that he has places to be - as in, he cannot afford to simply shake his pillow and laugh the entire day, though surely he would’ve liked to. This is a pointed metaphor, I believe - for life, and living it. But then we approach the truly conflicting bit. A sated child sleeps soundly - of course it does. But the author used a period after ‘sleep’ in the third line. Does it imply that these sweet dreams are dreamt awake? If it’s prompted by cake, are they about cake as well? If it’s prompted by sleep - is the boy dreaming of sleep, whilst awake? Sounds reaching, but somehow, the poetess has managed to make us feel diminished for questioning such apparent simplicity. This stanza is certainly my favorite, and elixir to a curious mind. And now, we proceed to the last paragraph.

He rises from his gentle bed,

With thoughts of kittens in his head,

He eats his jam with lots of bread.

Ready for the day ahead.

The boy gets up. His bed is soft. There’s kittens in his head. (Could there be a more obvious metaphor?) And he’s ready, after having jam and bread - but the poet’s dramatizing it. Is it supposed to tell us something? Is the boy bad at measurement? Will he ever learn? These are more questions the poetess leaves us to contemplate. It’s not just engaging poetry, because the poet has hooked us in for as long as it takes to answer the many questions which come up.

And at the same time, in a stroke of brilliance, she imparted a message, which is impossible to miss once a reader dissects the poem. It seems as though she’s writing about a child and his ‘plushie’. But all along, it’s only been about a dog and a cat.

Remember the rhetoric, at the very beginning? Which is an animal often subjected to rhetorical interrogation? The dog. ‘Who’s a good boy?’ - a most needless question, for all dogs are, in fact, good boys. The cat, like here the author, can tell. It’s always been able to tell, and is the happier for it. The dog’s bark’s a laugh, the cat’s purr’s a cry. Upon being nudged, the cat jiggles, and excited, the dog laughs. The dog’s big, soft and deep, with promises to keep - and the cat’s the one who’s left to his sweet dreams and sleep, with cake too - because well, the dog cares. And at the end, the dog rises to go about his day in the workaday world, while the cat sleeps and eats - a stay-at-home pet, in all his glory.

Everything makes sense once we reread with the actual characters in mind. The pronouns need not perturb us, for the dog and the cat conveniently both identify as male. @xojo has created an absolutely delectable, unheteronormative wonder. And along with poetry, she’s created a story - a romance, dare I say - and done it magnificently.

With a slight adaptation of her verse itself, I end this essay hence.

“I watch him laugh. I cry goodbye.”

My reactions, portrayed subsequently as I transversed this excellent piece of prose -

I am SOB ROLLING on the floor, you've finally managed to murderalize me plushie (ಥ‿ಥ) I am not worthy of this ........

#you have done it again #my genius brother of mine #you've graced me with yet another masterpiece #ive been transported to my english class #i can almost smell the chalk dust #hear the pages turning #i am died .....#submission

33 notes · View notes

stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 3 months ago

Text

love being a frequent inaturalist user because it means my mom and a handful of her friends will occasionally just send me random pictures of bugs

#literally my favorite thing ever. guys if u ever want me to identify sometjing for you. please send me weird animals .#nothing makes me happier than getting a pcicture or video of an animal being weird with the caption “what” or “why”#blahblahblah #im always like. mom. lori. beth. you guys can get this app. its literally so easy you put in the pic and the location and it gives #you a bunch of suggestions (WITH PICTURES!! AND OTHER INFO!!) but theyre all like. thats too much work. you do it.#and my metaphorical dog ears perk up and i wag my tail like “okay ^_^''

2 notes · View notes

truecrimeweekly · 4 years ago

Text

Richard “The Iceman” Kuklinski

This week’s post is about my favorite hitman/serial killer to read about. This man scares me more than any other monster I have researched because I find something comforting and familiar about the way he looks and the sound of his voice. His story actually scares me so much that it’s taken me a couple days to write this post even though I’ve already done the research because it triggers my anxiety, specifically writing about his family life. Hope you guys enjoy, feel free to send me any feedback or requests.

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of child abuse, death of a child, animal abuse and death, murder and domestic abuse

Richard Leonard Kuklinski, also known as “The Iceman” was born on April 11, 1935 in Jersey City, New Jersey. It seems as though he never had a chance to be a child. His father, Stanley Kuklinski, was a very abusive alcoholic and beat him and his siblings daily. When Kuklinski was six years old, his father beat his older brother, Florian, to death while intoxicated. After this, Stanley abandoned his family. Unfortunately, Kuklinski’s life did not get any better with his fathers absence. His mother, Anna Kuklinski, believed her children should grow up in a strict household so she hit him routinely. Kuklinski even claimed his mother broke a broomstick over his back. On top of the abuse he suffered at home, he was a target for bullies thanks to his small size. This all made Kuklinski a very angry person. In order to cope with that anger and give himself a sense of power, he would mutilate cats and dogs.

When Kuklinski was thirteen, he set out to get revenge on the leader of a small neighborhood gang that had been bullying him. He beat the boy to death with a wooden dowel then, to prevent authorities from identifying the body, he cut off his fingers with a hatchet and pulled out his teeth with pliers. Kuklinski claimed he hadn’t planned on killing the boy but proceeded to seek out the rest of the members and beat them almost to death with an iron rod.

As time went on, Kuklinski became a well-known pool shark who was heavily feared because of his short fuse. He claimed to have killed anyone who he felt rubbed him the wrong way, but had one rule. He would not kill women or children. Unlike most serial killers, Kuklinski did not abuse drugs or alcohol and he did not kill out of lust. He only killed out of anger and later on, for money.

It seems as though Kuklinski was as transparent as can be right? Except he wasn’t. His crimes were kept a secret from his family. His own wife had no idea what he did for a living, though by the time he met her, he was already an experienced killer. When Kuklinski was twenty-five, even though he was already married and had a little boy, he met and fell in love with the eighteen-year-old secretary, Barbara Pedrici, at the trucking company he was working for at the time. Barbara said Kuklinski was charming and always told her he loved her. As their relationship got more serious, Barbara grew worried that she was becoming isolated from her family and friends. She decided to try and end their relationship. When she brought this up to Kuklinski, he took a hunting knife and stabbed her in the back. He told her, “This is an object lesson: never leave me.” After this incident, Barabra found out she was pregnant with his baby. She decided to marry him in order to protect her image. Her family even paid for his divorce. They ended up having three children, two daughters and a son. While Kuklinski adored his family and even said that the time with his family was some of the happiest moments of his life, Barbara said there were two sides to her husband, describing them as “bad Richie” and “good Richie.” She said she never knew which one was going to walk through the door. Good Richie was loving and caring. He spoiled his children, took his family on expensive vacations and regularly visited Disney World with them. Barbara enjoyed these times, living with no worries about finances. If she wanted anything, good Richie made sure she got it. She didn’t know how he was able to afford their lifestyle but she knew better than to question him. Bad Richie was angry and violent. He never hit his children but he beat Barbara so bad, it caused two miscarriages.

Kuklinski gained a connection to Roy DeMeo(let me know if you guys want to hear about him too) and began pirating pornographic films for the Gambino Crime Family. He was quickly noticed by the higher-ups thanks to his now very intimidating look. The small, weak boy who was bullied for his height now stood six feet, five inches and weighed over 300 pounds. He became an enforcer for the family, making sure debts were paid. He became DeMeo’s favorite enforcer so he decided to put him up to a test. DeMeo randomly selected a target on the streets for Kuklinski to kill. He walked up to the man walking his dog and shot him in the back of the head with no remorse. From this point on, he began doing hits for the Family. He continued this life for thirty years, going out of his way to keep his “work life” away from his family. He claimed to kill anyone who threatened his family, sometimes even entire rooms of people. Since he didn’t have a preferred weapon or style of killing, it was very hard to catch Kuklinski. He also used different methods of hiding the bodies. He earned his nickname “The Iceman” from hiding bodies in a freezer after killing them then dumping them years later. This made it almost impossible to determine the time of death. In 1986, an undercover agent finally caught up with Kuklinski. On December 17, 1986 investigators set up a staged cyanide purchase deal and arrested Kuklinski.

In March of 1988, a jury found him guilty of five counts of murder, though he claimed to have killed over 200 people. He was sentenced to two consecutive life sentences. He would turn 110 before he would be eligible for parole. On March 5, 2006, Kuklinski died from Kawasaki disease, a disease most common in Japanese children. His death was deemed suspicious because it was right before he was supposed to testify against Sammy “The Bull” Gravano(again, if you’d like to hear about him, let me know), a former mobster being tried for murder. One of the things Kuklinski was known for was poisoning some of his victims. Kawasaki disease has almost the exact same symptoms as mercury poisoning. Though his autopsy determined he died from natural causes, many people believed he was poisoned to keep him quiet. What do you think?

As for Barbara and their children, Barbara has changed her name and lives anonymously in New Jersey with her youngest daughter, Christin, and Christin’s boyfriend. Barbara has told an interviewer, “Look at me! I used to shop at Bloomingdale’s. We had a pool. I had the best of everything. I had a cleaner and a housekeeper. I wanted for nothing. If I wanted it, Richard saw that I got it. Now, I worry about the price of paper towels. But I have never been happier in my life. My husband’s dead and gone. Thank God!” Kuklinski’s oldest and favorite daughter, Merrick, keeps his ashes and has done a few interviews about her father. She is the only person to love him until the day he died.

6 notes · View notes

transthaumaturge · 5 years ago

Text

Ace Attorney and the Finally Kind-Of Okay Queer Representation

Note: This post contains massive spoilers for Turnabout Academy, the third case in the 3DS game Ace Attorney: Dual Destinies. There are also spoilers for a few cases in the earlier games. Please only read on if you’re okay with that.

I love Ace Attorney, but as a series it is fraught with bad queer representation. It really says something that the first queer character that I felt pretty good about was five games in. Most of this bad rep is in the form of effeminate, gay-coded men that are written as evil and/or comic relief. A brief rundown:

1) Redd White, the power-hungry CEO of Bluecorp;

2) Jean Armstrong, the cowardly café owner who lied on the stand (and who is repeatedly misgendered by the judge for comic relief);

3) Florent L’Belle, the greedy Mayor’s Aid.

All three characters are presented as a mix of negative stereotypes and bad-faith comic relief. They’re dark spots in an otherwise really fun series, and it’s made me very uncomfortable interacting with each one as I’ve played through the cases. I’ve never felt worse about Ace Attorney than when it’s punching down on gay-coded characters, all of whom were written with no redeemable qualities. I mean, two of them were the actual murderers in their respective cases! Honestly, it just sucked.

That’s why I got so excited (and also super-nervous they would botch it again) today while playing through Turnabout Academy, at the moment when one of the characters is revealed to be explicitly trans. I’ll go over the general facts and then discuss why this was a step in the right direction, but still very flawed.

In the case, Robin Newman is a high school law student and a close friend of the defendant. In the early stages of the case, Robin presents as a very masculine individual and even wears a chest brace that is supposedly proof of her manliness. This whole time, she’s represented as a very aggressive and unhappy person. But on the first day of the case, it’s revealed that she put on a feminine costume belonging to the defendant because she really wanted to wear something girly. When further pressed, she comes out in the courtroom and reveals that she’s actually a girl—the chest brace was hiding the fact that she had breasts, and her parents raised her as a boy as some terrible step in forcing her to become a prosecutor when she grew up. Afterward, she’s a very cheerful, peppy person and says that she’s grateful she finally gets to live life as a girl and pursue her dream of becoming an artist.

As a trans woman myself, I started getting really excited as soon as it became clear that Robin put on the outfit—and even more excited when it was finally revealed that she was a girl who had been raised as a boy. The first thing that tipped me off to my gender identity was wanting to wear women’s clothing, so this gender euphoria through clothing scenario was something that I could relate to on a deep emotional level. And while I got nervous at first because the blame for the murder was briefly pinned on her, that ultimately goes nowhere. This is the first queer character in an Ace Attorney game that is represented as kind, positive, and trustworthy. Robin is wonderful. I love her so much.

But now I want to dive into where parts of her portrayal are still negative, and how Capcom made several missteps that ultimately resulted in Robin not being as fleshed-out and three-dimensional as she deserved to be.

First, Robin’s reveal is still treated like comic relief at times. I was really uncomfortable when several characters said “he was a she???” or something to that effect. Given that “he-she” was once a widely used transphobic slur for trans women, it wasn’t in good taste. Also uncomfortable was the fact that as soon as the big reveal happened, she took on a bunch of hyperfeminine behavioral and vocal tics. The worst was when she started swooning every time that anything shocking happened for the rest of the time she was on the stand. It felt like this was just a way to play up the comedy side of “hey, she’s a girl now.” She was forcibly outed in the courtroom, and then magically showed no trauma or self-doubt afterward. It almost felt like she wasn’t there to be a serious character anymore. Later, she thanks Athena for outing her. I think that sends the wrong message.

What did the game do right when portraying her? I loved how visibly relieved and happy she was after coming out, though it sucks that she didn’t get to do it on her own terms. It’s later revealed that she had confided in a professor about her gender identity and had a plan to come out to the school, so that was a nice touch. I also really liked it being mentioned that she had been raised as a boy, removing most of the ambiguity about what we were seeing—that this wasn’t a self-imposed repression of her authentic self, but something that had been forced on her. They used the right pronouns for her throughout the entire rest of the case without slipping up even once, thankfully not misgendering her for laughs like they did relentlessly with Jean Armstrong two games earlier. She was also just a really pleasant character to be around afterward, so that was nice.

What would be on my wish list if I were asked to help in rewriting Robin to be a more positive example of trans representation? First, I would fix her character’s comedic behavioral tics. Most witnesses have some silly animations, but the fact that all of her tics after being outed were hyperfeminine to the point of parody made me uncomfortable. Are there other ways to make her a bit quirky and visibly feminine without punching down on her burgeoning relationship with her gender? I’m sure that there are. It would also be nice for her reaction to being out in public for the first time to be more on par with what you might actually expect if a trans woman found herself in that situation. She probably feels relieved, but also a bit scared, embarrassed, and hesitant about how she’s supposed to act now. I would love to see some of that reflected in how she talks and in how she acts. Maybe she’s daydreaming of what she can wear now that she’s out, and that’s interspersed with nervous hair-twirling and curtsying at awkward times.

I’d also like her to say something to Athena about how she wished that she wasn’t forced to come out in front of a bunch of people like that, but she’s happy that she gets to be herself. Anything other than thanking Athena for outing her with no qualifiers. The fact that she was forcibly outed needs to be portrayed as a traumatic moment. Sure, something good came out of it and Athena didn’t immediately realize that that’s where the cross-examination was going, but it shouldn’t have happened. An apology from Athena would also be nice. She should feel at least a little bit guilty about outing someone in the middle of a courtroom, even if that someone was much happier afterwards.

Finally, I’d love for there to be less ambiguity about the events that led her to this point—and ideally, something that more explicitly shows that she’s a trans woman. The way her dialogue was written, I think the writers were trying to portray her as having been assigned female at birth, but later forced by her parents to take on a male identity for…some reason. It’s never explained why they would want to inflict that on her. She’s trans regardless of her sex at birth if she was forced to live life as a boy for her entire childhood, but I think that it could be handled better. A few possibilities that I like more:

1) She was already in the middle of gender transition, and started wearing the chest brace when her breasts began to develop since she wasn’t ready to be out in public—especially to her parents, who might have cut her financial support off if they had known. After all, she was at a prestigious private legal school. That must have been a concern.

2) She was intersex, and her parents raised her as a boy when she was growing up because that’s unfortunately what happens so often with intersex children—they’re forced into one side of the binary or the other, and sometimes they find out later on that their parents didn’t make the right choice or that they don’t identify with a binary gender identity at all. Robin had breasts because she was born with both male and female sex characteristics, and try as her parents might to force her into manhood, she still had a uterus. Not every intersex person is trans, but plenty are.

3) Or just…remove the bit where she’s revealed to have breasts altogether, and keep in the fact that she’s a girl who was raised as a boy! Why does she have to be “a biological female in disguise”? While either of the above two options would have been good ways to explain the fact that she had breasts, I’m not giving the writers enough credit to have thought of one or the other. If they had, it would have been hinted at. On some level, it felt like they were saying “it’s okay everyone, she’s not really trans. Look, she had breasts all along!” If that’s what they were trying to do, then screw it; just change the reveal but nothing else about the character, and make her an unabashedly AMAB trans woman.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on the topic. I recognize that this was super long-winded, but I needed to get my thoughts out—anyone who’s interested in this and got something from the long read, I’m glad that I was able to provide some insight. And I’m not even done with the series yet! Maybe they did do better! I don’t have my hopes up, but maybe! Anyway, please feel free to reblog this post with your thoughts or message me if this inspired any opinions of your own. As long as those thoughts aren’t “Robin isn’t really trans or queer at all.” I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.

Have a great day, everyone! And thanks for reading!

#thaumaturgethoughts #ace attorney #dual destinies #Robin Newman #trans positivity #queer representation #trans character

91 notes · View notes

vincent-frankenstein · 5 years ago

Text

ADHD sides hcs :3c

self projection time? self projection time

feel free to add ur own hcs onto this im jus usin my own experiences here

startin w PATTON

emotional regulation? who’s she? patton only knows feeling emotions with Every Single Atom in his body so powerfully he might one day Explode

if he’s happy hes HAPPY!!!!! it’s like his body fills with light and he’s walking 2 feet off the ground and nothing could go wrong — and then whoops, something goes wrong, and wh o o ps, hes crying, whoops —

has a million stuffed animals sitting aLL around the house so he always has something to Squeeze

Squeezing is a good stim dont @ me

he throws his whole body into stimming

flapping, bouncing, jumping, spinning — his body must be moving at all times or he will die

starting things is. Very very hard for him. executive dysfunction hits DEEP and he’s just,,, paralyzed. he wants to do the thing!!! he really does!!! his brain just Wont Let Him

logan used to get very frustrated with him but then patton like, explained how it felt and a little lightbulb went off in logan’s head

“patton, I think you have adhd.”

“... i’m guessin that doesn’t mean im a-delightful-hip-dad?”

then they did some Research together and put together a plan to help patton work around executive dysfunction and, it works, sometimes

when it doesnt, logan makes hot cocoa and sits with him

AUDITORY. PROCESSING. PROBLEMS.

“Hey, Pat, what’s for dinner?” “huh?” “I said, what’s for —” “meATloaf”

hearing is an uphill struggle so sometimes he just Signs instead but a lot of the time he gets so excited about what he’s trying to say he just dissolves into flapping halfway through the sentence

lots of hyperfixations !!!! so many !!! he cycles through em one after another suuuuper quickly

he never forgets a hyperfixation, and the mention of ANY old hyperfixations will have him cry-flapping

roman: hey did u know they’re making another phineas and ferb movie -

patton, vibrating intensely and sobbing, .5 seconds away from launching into orbit: theYR E MAKING A WHAT

ROMAN

singing is his absolute FAVORITE STIM

that moment where u reach a point in a song where ur chest just, Swells and u can feel ur voice Vibrating ? yeah

sometimes Does Not warm up beforehand bc ??? he has No Choice but to sing along to certain songs and he cant always control when they come on so his voice sometimes gets Very Raspy from belting without warmups

aside from that twirling and doing Ballet Poses are also very good stims. he stick his leggy out Real Far mmhm

roman: *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt finish it *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt finish it* *starts a new project and doesnt fin

his room is a MESS and NO he will NOT clean it LOGAN he has a SYSTEM

he doesnt have a system and the mess stresses him out to no end but he has one (1) braincell and it’s dedicated to Starting Projects And Not Finishing Them so

needs validation to survive

like legit if he doesnt get validation he will DIE

on the flip side, if he gets any sort of rejection, he will also Die

logan: so I read through your latest script, and the idea is solid. We can definitely work with this. I did notice one oddly structured sentence so I fixed that for you —

roman: so you basically hate it and i should die

rejection sensitive dysphoria is the one villain he has yet to figure out how to slay

contrary to what u might think, he keeps his hyperfixations Very close to his heart. he doesnt think he would survive it if one of the others were to criticize them

the one exception to this rule: disney.

you cant look at this boy and tell me hes not hyperfixated on disney i mean did you s E E him in that one ep cmon

he will ramble about disney to anyone who will listen for hours. days, even, if you give him the opportunity. infodumping about disney is like injecting pure sunlight right into his bloodstream; by the end of it he’s glowing

once, after accepting anxiety, virgil and roman ended up in another debate about the Meanings of disney movies, but this time it was friendly, and by the end of it roman had gotten to ramble about each and every one of his favorite movies and he had never been happier

it was the first time virgil ever saw him Flap

they still get together to talk disney sometimes

VIRGIIIIL

virgil: *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while listening to mcr* *stims while liste

like roman, Music is virgil’s main stim, but he prefers to just. Move. bouncin his leg and drumming his hands in the air and shaking his head etc etc

it takes. literally foreVER for him to trust the others enough to stim around them. music is his main comfort but, for a Long Time, he wouldnt let himself listen to it when the others were around, just bc he knew he’d want to stim and he couLDNT bc what if he got juDGED

but then one day roman starts singing and patton jumps up and starts spinning and virgils like “???” and logans like “that’s how they stim” and virgils like “!!!!”

he Tappy Leg Real Fast

he also has a string of beads he carries everywhere to twist around his fingers bc bead,,, Good Texture

he struggles with rsd just as badly as roman, but he shows it in a Different Way

roman hurts, but hes an actor. he’s not about to invite more rejection by letting them know how much their words hurt! no no no, he keeps up the bravado until hes back in his room and then he breaks

but virgil. the rsd hits and its like, a physical blow to his chest and he crumples, wilting in on himself, and the world around him just sorta, ebbs away. for virgil, rsd is static

after AA the others start to learn his Signs for when hes feeling Bad™ so whenever he shrinks away they’ll stop the conversation and talk him through his insecurities until he feels better

SPOOKY HYPERFIXATIONS ALL THE WAY

went to Halloween Horror Nights one (1) time and now listens to the music on repeat and just. stims for hours

also hes in love with austin gumbam from academy of villains me? self projecting? never

knows Every Obscure Fact from Every Horror Movie Ever and the urge to infodump is Consntantly at the forefront of his mind but he Never Does

unless someone gives him permission

virgil: oh? chucky? thats a. cool movie. did you know that — uh. nvm

logan: no no, go on

virgil, vibrating at a speed that could shatter glass: iF YOU INSIST-

LOGAN,,,,

this bitch is just as bad at Emotional Regulation as patton

hes just better at hiding it

that little stunt w the paper in lntao? he is Constantly .5 seconds away from going apeshitt. that was just A Glimpse into the chaos

he’s just,,,, very very bad at Identifying what he’s feeling. patton hid his feelings from the others, but he still knew what he was feeling, and he knows how to identify emotions

logan, on the other hand?

logan: passion and anger are both Hot. they must be The Same Thing

patton: i. i mean. not really

logan: goddamnit

patton: logan? are you crying?

logan, touching his cheek and finding Tears: hm. tragic. and here i thought i was “happy”

he’d much rather just,,, Not feel but thats not an option bc he still feels things intensely, he just doesnt know What he’s feeling most of the time

quiet stims. he runs his hands along the fabric of his tie, feeling the grooves of the stitches, and readjusts his glasses constantly. if he’s feelin extra wild, he’ll even pull out his rubix cube and solve and re-solve it without even looking

LOTS of obscure hyperfixations

he has so many books on so many different subjects,,,, his room is more of a library than a bedroom and thats just the way he likes it

throwback to that one time he hyperfixated on reptiles and thomas’ little “slimy boy” outburst had him chasing deceit around the mindscape trying to feel his scales “FOR SCIENCE”

memory. problems.

he HATES hates hates hates the fact that things slip his mind so easily. hence, the notebook, and the daily planner, and the deluge of postits hanging around his bedroom

it frustrates him to no end especiaLLY when he forgets important information in front of thomas

patton watches out for the signs of Frustration and brings logan a cup of tea later than day and helps him sort through the Mess of notes on his desk to catalogue the Important Info

just let logan and patton be adhd buds @god bls i beggeth

but when he does remember The Information and thomas praises him? effervescent

logan, after thomas called him cool, kicking down pattons door: I FINALLY KNOW WHAT HAPPINESS TRULY FEELS LIKE

patton: hey! cool your jets there, kiddo!

logan:

patton: :3c

logan, turning around: neveRMIND

patton: nO WAI T-

the day thomas called him cool was the first time he ever Flapped

#patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #adhd #sanders sides hcs #celeste's portfolio #woop w o o p #very Basic™ but im jus like. throwing some of My Experiences at the sides and seein what sticks so #out of this im like. mostly patton n roman #espe c I A LLY roman's singing stim my voice is SHOT rn bc ive been singing nonstop without warming up #adhd sides #legit pls add onto this !!!! i wanna see what experiences Others have

190 notes · View notes

bssaz97 · 4 years ago

Text

RWBY Post AU: Blaze

Part 1

- Kuo Kuana, Menagerie -

The beaches of Kuo Kuana are said to be the most beautiful and calmest places in all of Remnant. Since the end of the Dark War sixteen years ago, many would come from all across to see the shoreline and view the horizon to experience the tranquil peace of the Faunus Kingdom.

On this particular day, a young man came to this place to seek inner peace. This was Blaze Belladonna-Wukong, the son of the current Chieftain of Menagerie, Blake Belladonna-Wukong and the Captain of the Menagerie Guard, Sun Belladonna-Wukong. Under their lead Menagerie thrived and officially became the first Faunus-ruled Kingdom by the end of the Dark War. He of course was born a year after the war ended and was one of the first children born into a truly peaceful world.

At least, that’s what they originally thought...

Blaze is sitting down on a beach towel in a Burmese meditation position, he comes here every other day in a attempt to clear up his mind. He focuses on achieving a clear mind, on peaceful, stress free thoughts. He thinks of happier times, and allows his mind to take him back to his childhood. Almost instantly he is visiting a time of his life where his closest friends at the time were Joanna, Liena, Rowan and Summer. They would come visit his family with their parents, and it was here on this beach where they would play all day long under the supervision of his grandparents.

Collecting seashells with grandma, playing volleyball in teams, building sandcastles with Summer who chose to stay with him on the shore, and finally ending the day by eating cooked fish by the campfire his grandpa made...

The BIG campfire...the flames would roar and the smell of smoke and ash would overwhelm his nose...the sounds of his screaming parents calling out for him...he can’t breathe...he was coughing rapidly...he looks up and sees a dark figure looming over him with his dark eyes...all he could make out was that white fucking mask! Grandpa where are you?...GRANDPA!!

No...No! Wake up!...wake the fuck up!

“Guh!”, Blaze returns to his senses, his amber eyes wide and clenching his shirt in a sweat. When his heartbeat finally settles his face contorted into a scowl and hits the ground in frustration.

“Damn it”, Blaze muttered. He stands up from the sandy ground immediately after, then goes to grab his backpack that contains his books, papers, and other school supplies but most importantly, his weapons Bàoyìng and Yîng Zhâo.* He rolls up his beach towel then leaves the beach and start the rest of his day. He predicts that this day was going to be a long one.

- Flashback (9 Years Ago) -

A eight year old Blaze creeps around his family’s house, looking for his prey. He stealthily enters his grandfather’s study where he spotted the man at work, reading some ‘adult paperwork’ (or something like that). Good...

*taptaptaptaptap!*

Ghira looked up from the documents inquisitively, hearing the sound of tiny footsteps near his vicinity. He eyes scan the vicinity of his study and was about to dismiss the noise all together, that is, until he spotted the slightest bit of a black tail poking out behind one of the couch in front of him. A smile came to his face and he made a silent chuckle as he identified his culprit. He determined that he could do one of two things, he could A.) let the young boy play his game and return to working on his documents, or B.) have a little fun today before today’s summit.... Ghira decided to indulge in his grandson’s game.

“What’s that? I could’ve sworn I heard a sound just a moment ago. I suppose I should better investigate the room, who knows what sort of dangerous creature could have snuck in”, Ghira stated out loud as a not so subtle warning to his intruder. The sound of muffled goggles met his ears and thus began the game.

The elder Faunus stood up from his chair and quickly removed his boots, letting his panther feet touch the wooden floor. Ever so quietly Ghira moved towards the couch, preparing to snatch up the little cub so that he may give him a lesson in trying to sneak up on the elderly. As he nears the corner that he’s certain the cub was hiding, he does his best maniacal laugh, “Looks like your time is....UP!” Ghira pounces around the face of the couch expecting to find a naughty cub but all he’s met with is a stuffed animal.

“What...?”, Ghira questioned aloud. He could have sworn that the culprit was behind here, but where could the boy have-?

“RRRAAAAHHH!!!,” a small shadow pounced at Ghira from above behind him and laced their short arms his neck. “Hehehehe, I caught you!”, the young Blaze proclaimed.

“Oh no! I have been caught! Oh woes me, how could I not have foreseen this,” Ghira cried out dramatically and got onto his knees and began sinking into the floor. “Life...fading...I see...a light...at the end of the tunnel...hrk-blegh!”, Ghira did his ‘best’ death impression as he laid face down on the floor.

The young Faunus looked at his grandfather’s fallen form and with a tilt of his head Blaze poked the elder’s cheek, “Grandpa, you’re not really dead.”

Ghira’s eyes snapped open and smiles, “No...but I do have second wind.” With a playful growl Ghira took hold of his grandchild, the surprise attack resulting in a playful game of tickle war with Blaze being greatly outmatched. All the young cub could do was squirm and lightly kick at his cheating grandfather.

“GRANDPA!-Hehehehe-THAT’S-hehe-CHEATING!-hehehehe,” The young Blaze giggles out.

“Ah but I suppose attacking an old man from behind is much better?”, Ghira asked the young cub, ceasing his tickling at Blaze’s ribs and neck.

“Yeah, huff....But there isn’t a rule that says that I can’t do that,” Blaze boldly claims.

Ghira chuckles then pats the boy’s head, “Fair enough.”

*Knock! Knock! Knock!*

Both Ghira and Blaze looked towards the opened doorway to see the amused face of Blaze’s mother, Blake Belladonna-Wukong, who by the looks of it had witnessed a good bit of their tickle war. “Well it looks like you two are enjoying yourselves,” Blake smiling at her father and son after catching them in their fun.

“Hi Mom! I caught Grandpa real good this time!”, Blaze exclaims to his mother while sitting in his grandpa’s lap.

“Really? That’s cool. Certainly a first, my little tama,” Blake walked over to them and bent down to pet her son’s cheek. This action caused her son to lean towards his mother’s hand, a soft purring being heard from him.

Ghira smiles at the interaction between his daughter and grandchild, no doubt reminding him of when she was no younger or bigger than her own son.

“Sorry to interrupt your game you two, but it’s almost time for us to head out,” Blake told both her father and little cub.

“Aw... but I want to stay with Grandpa some more. Can’t we stay a little longer,” Blaze pleaded to his mother, his amber eyes widening and becoming wet.

“I’m sorry but we have go back home sweetie, we’re going to be waking up early tomorrow morning and I want to to get a full nights sleep,” Blake told her small son.

Blaze pouts sadly until feeling a larger hand nestle into his dark locks and hears his grandfather’s deep chuckle, “No worries Blaze, we will have plenty of opportunities to play again soon.”

“But what if you’re not here when we come back,” the young faunus asked.

“Blaze, precious child, wherever you are and wherever you are going, as long as we have each other in our thoughts and in our hearts, we will never be apart from each other. I will have you in my thoughts and if you carry me in yours, then I will be with you as well, can you do that for me Blaze,” The older faunus asks his grandchild.

Blaze whimpers gently but still nods, “Yes grandpa.”

Ghira smiles and ruffles Blaze’s nape, causing the young child to giggle loudly, which results in both grandfather and mother to laugh along with him.

After nearly a week of vacation, his grandfather’s words had proven to be true, as they would meet again after he and his parents came home from their trip, visiting family friends in Solitas. As always, his grandfather did not failed him and never lead him astray once in his short life....

What they did not know was that these happier times would only last a few more years, and then nothing would ever be the same again.

#rwby #rwby post au #rwby blaze belladonna-wukong #rwby blacksun child #rwbabies #ghira belladonna

10 notes · View notes

andmaybegayer · 4 years ago

Text

[Warning: this post is mostly me talking to myself in text form for journaling purposes, and as a result is boring and sucks. I told you so.]

I've been listening to The Anthropocene Reviewed for the past couple months, slowly working through the episodes. A couple weeks ago I listened to the one on "Tetris, and, The Seed Potatoes of Leningrad."

You've probably heard about the seed potatoes of Leningrad, there was a post from the @tilthat bot going around. TL;DR, during the siege of Leningrad, scientists at the seed bank in Leningrad protected the enormous cache of food crop samples in storage there (many unique) and didn't eat any of it, while the scientists and people around them starved to death, cut off from supplies by the siege.

There are of course, two ways to look at this. Those scientists were brainwashed idiots, who protects mere crops while human lives are ending, how cold and heartless can you be. Those scientists are stoic heroes, they understood that the value of a seedbank far exceeded the value of the individuals around them, a fact they knew truly and objectively as professionals in their field.

Lots of problems people face look like this. Do you do something that helps you and the people immediate to you in the short term, likely leading to long term benefit for your group, or do you do something that is suboptimal for you and yours but helps many more people who may not help you in turn or even know you exist.

This post takes a turn now, and we’ll talk about Brain Drain.

Brain Drain (more formally "Human Capital Flight") is when people trained by one nation emigrate to another, usually because of actual or perceived improvement to quality of life in the second place, carrying their skills with them. The classic example is Jewish scientists fleeing the Nazis, or for a more controversial example, Soviet professionals defecting to the USA.

Now those are highly politically charged situations, so let’s look at the one I’m dealing with: South Africa is kind of a lame place to live compared to some other places.

South Africa is a rich and functional country by African standards but it’s still not a First World Country. Our currency is weak. Our Gini index is a joke. Education is poor the moment you step outside of urban centers, and even then, there are problems. The electrical supply is mostly reliable but regularly suffers from rolling blackouts. Violent crime rates have fallen dramatically over the years but are still higher than in many other parts of the world. Cities are unnavigable sprawls with little public transport. Internet is expensive. We get lower quality produce because the best stuff gets exported to richer countries who can pay more for it. The political system is deeply corrupt in ways that make even normal corrupt politicans go “well that’s a bit much.”

But I also grew up here. I got my immunizations from government clinics and government nurses. I attended a government school, and my university education was heavily subsidized because I am a citizen. I drive on public roads, My house is lit with electricity from a nationalized electrical grid. I was part of a team that had government funding to compete in a high-profile supercomputing competition, which included a completely free 10 day long training course for 80 undergraduate students. At some level, the investments of the government (and by extension, taxpayers) function and provide a return, if by return you mean training individuals within the population who can produce value in the standing economic system, workers with high school certificates and medical doctorates and welding qualifications.

Lots of South African professionals seek to leave the country. It is all at once a sufficiently modern and unequal country that if you grow up and become University Educated, you will likely identify more with other countries than with South Africa at large. I have lost count of how many people I know who have moved to Australia or the Netherlands or the UK or the USA. Many of them went through the same school and university system I did, and benefited from the same subsidies.

People frequently encourage me to leave the country, both for the primary reason (you can make more money as an engineer in the West) or for other reasons (you should see the world/you should experience other people) and I always feel torn between those. I have long been on the side of those Soviet scientists protecting their seed bank. I like to believe that I would choose the mass benefit over short term personal gain, that is the Socialist™ way after all. I feel (at some level) an obligation to live here, work here, to work to (at least) give value to people around me and (at best) to directly improve the systems around me.

But there is a thin line between obligation and nationalism. This is a nationalist tendency, at some level. Not quite “this country is good because it is mine,” but “this country has a claim to me, and I to it, and so I should stand by it,” which is, worrying, at times. How do you tell the difference. Should you even contribute to a system that you think creates a great deal of pain, suffering, and violence, and which sustains many harmful cycles. Can the good cop improve a bad system. Or should you just take what you can get and run as far as you can, because nothing you can do will help.

(Incidentally, I believe that a lot of things tied to the fascist aesthetic are not implicitly bad, but rather things that combine poorly with other traits. Nationalism is theoretically a powerful attribute to cultivate, if, of course, you are a truly virtuous nation which can vouch for the aims of its people en masse. Not that those nations exist anywhere.)

A deep part of me also /wants/ to flee. The work to improve a country (even when you are in a good position to do so) is slow, frequently hopeless, and does not often bear fruit in your lifetime. I have ADHD, so that’s a rough proposition. I can barely wait for things that I know will bear fruit in the next three days. I have been to New York City twice, and since the first time my heart has ached for dense public transport, the alien experience of white people walking in the street by choice, and the strange sense of certainty New York has of its place in the world. I love central Johannesburg, I like walking and being there when I get the chance, it is a place that is full of people and occurrences, but I am always reminded of a line by Neal Stephenson.

The only ones left in the city are street people, feeding off debris; immigrants, thrown out like shrapnel from the destruction of the Asian powers (and) young smart people... who take the risk of living in the city because they like stimulation and they know they can handle it.

Many people despise central Johannesburg, because it is a dangerous kind of stimulating which does not allow much room to relax if you, like me, are an outsider to the place. This isn’t the USA where every seventh person has an iPhone, it is easy to be a mark. Hell, several of my friends have been robbed in the suburbs, the city is a whole other animal.

That was fairly off topic. This is also my post, so I don’t care.

I have mostly been on the side of staying. The potential benefits of moving away are often just ideas of greener grass on the other side. There is no reasonable proof that I would be happier with public transport in the long term, merely more mobile. There is no reason to believe that living in the country that produced the media I am inundated with will somehow make that more meaningful to me, just physically closer. There is no reason why people from elsewhere could make better friends in person than the ones I already have here. These are mostly thoughts that are appealing to think because they cannot be proven, and so benefit from being hypothetical.

#long post #politics #economics #kali's life #an actual blog post #what year is it

13 notes · View notes

aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years ago

Text

What Might Have Been - 11

(From my ongoing fic using @goodomenscelebration‘s theme prompts. This one is a bit lighter, but the next few will bring the angst again.)

Masterlist of previous parts here.

Old-Fashioned

Aziraphale stared at the sleeping angel. He’d never even asked her name. It hadn’t mattered, really.

He hated how callous that sounded. That was what Heaven had always wanted him to be, for six thousand years. Callous, disinterested, distanced from the beings who surrounded him, tending to them without caring, like a farmer preparing animals for slaughter. Until one day, he couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t ignore the pain. Couldn’t pretend it – they – everything – didn’t matter.

With a sigh, he walked over to the window, looking out across the remains of the shattered city.

Crowley’s the one who taught me, he thought, tugging at the curtain. What matters. What doesn’t. If the Aziraphale of this world had never learned…what did that mean? Did Crowley not exist? He didn’t know how these other worlds worked, but surely there couldn’t be an Aziraphale and no Crowley. The thought was too wretched to consider.

She’d said there were still humans out there, somewhere. New Eden. Under the thumb of the Archangels. Were they any kinder in this world than his own? It didn’t seem likely.

Six millennia of hard-won empathy. If he just walked away, could he say he’d changed at all?

“Don’t be a fool,” Aziraphale told himself. “This isn’t your world. It’s not your responsibility. Crowley must have come by now. You need to find him and get back home. Where you belong.”

He paused to adjust the blanket over the sleeping angel. She’d stay unconscious for at least a day, and he’d shielded her enough to ensure she wasn’t interrupted. After that, she’d be on her own.

Nothing more to do here, Aziraphale began searching for a way outside.

Halfway back to the villages of the South Downs, Aziraphale saw shapes moving in the sky.

Angels. Probably.

He fluttered down to land next to an abandoned car, rusted through so that he could tell nothing about it except that it was smaller than the Bentley.

Hundreds of angels, it appeared, weaving in a grid over the South Downs. Searching.

But not, he thought, searching for him.

A few shot by nearly overhead. He couldn’t get a good look at them, but it was enough to jog his memory. Cream jacket, gold buttons shining. Two rows. Winged pins at the collar. Tartan kilt. And a white pith helmet to complete the look.

One piece of glass still survived in the car’s wing mirror, which he used to inspect the result. The tartan had come out a little off – he’d tried to imitate a basic foot soldier’s pattern, but instead it was just his own with a bit more gold woven in. That might stand out.

Well, it he was going that route already, may as well give himself a promotion. He added some gold braid to his epaulettes, a smattering of ribbon bars on his chest, nothing too ostentatious. A bottom-choir angel, but one with an exemplary record. Perfect.

He almost wished he’d taken the other angel’s sword, but he was happier without it. Besides, she would almost certainly return to the fight before she’d even fully recovered. She needed it more than he did.

“Alright. A message. Just delivering a message. Top Secret. Priority. Yes.” Don’t overthink it, as Crowley habitually reminded him when Aziraphale’s cover stories became more complex than the plots of his favorite thrillers.

He kicked off from the ground and flew directly towards the other angels, hands out so they could see he was unarmed.

“Halt!” one shouted, almost immediately.

Aziraphale spread his wings to hover in the air and immediately wished he hadn’t. Six thousand years on Earth, certain muscles were far out of practice, and really, these wings weren’t designed for hovering even in the best of circumstances.

“Identify yourself!” another angel snapped.

“Kasbeel, Third Warden of the Fourth Heaven, Second Battalion, Fourth Platoon, recently transferred from Fourth Battalion, Third Platoon. Messenger of –” he hesitated for half a second, because messengers weren’t numbered. “—of, er, Venus.” He threw up his hand into what he hoped was the correct salute for his alleged station.

The other two angels glanced at each other. “Third Battalion you say?”

“No, Second Battalion, though, previously, I was in the Fourth Battalion, though, interestingly, when I was first created –”

“Alright,” the angel on the right said, saluting him back, “we don’t need your life story. But you can’t come through here. This area is under containment.”

“Really?” Aziraphale asked, trying to look as though he knew nothing relevant. “Why would it be under containment?”

“That’s classified.”

“Ah. Well. I need to come through here. I have a message. Information on the most recent troop movements, for…” another hesitation. Gabriel’s name would get him anywhere, assuming Gabriel wasn’t currently in Heaven and willfully ignoring such petty details as death tolls and battle formations, which sounded very probable. Michael would work as well, but there was a chance she – or Uriel, or Sandalphon – was leading the charge back over the sea. If he gave the wrong name, they would know. “…for headquarters.” There was always a headquarters.

“That sounds very important,” said the angel on the left. “You still can’t come through here.”

“Classified,” the angel on the right added.

“But you don’t understand! I need to deliver this message as quickly as possible. Do you know how many battles have turned based solely on the arrival of timely information?”

“How many?”

“Lots! Think of the Battle of Marathon! The Charge of the Light Brigade, though that’s really more of a counterexample. Er.” Aziraphale was already near the end of his scanty military knowledge, but the two angels looked baffled already. “The Battle of the Iron Gate! The War of the Outlaws! The Boston Molasses Flood! The Great Wrath!”

“Did you say Molasses?”

Perhaps he’d overplayed it a bit. “Many died at the hands of Distilled Purity.”

The two angels exchanged another glance. He wished their faces weren’t so carefully blank. “I suppose you’re correct,” the one on the left started, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“We can take the message and deliver it for you. To save time.”

“You can’t,” Aziraphale jumped in, a little too quickly.

Now he could read their expressions: obvious suspicion. “Why not?”

“It’s…classified.”

“I can carry a sealed container without opening it,” pointed out the angel on the left.

“There is no physical message. I have it…memorized.”

“You have all the troop movements memorized?” The angel on the right had graduated from suspicion to downright distrust.

“Yes. Which is why I need to deliver it soon, before the memories start to decay.”

The angel on the right leaned closer. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Kasbeel, Third Warden of –”

“And what does your name mean?”

“Er.” Aziraphale glanced at the swarms of angels fluttering around the South Downs. “You know, I’m starting to think it would be much simpler to go around. Yes. Far less hassle. No tedious bureaucracy or other nonsense. I’ll just be on my way. Toodle-pip!”

He spun and folded his wings, gliding and diving above the twisted motorway. As near as he could tell, no one was following him.

With one last flutter of aching wings, Aziraphale settled down beside another rusted-out car. He stretched and flexed his wings, which had not been used this much since before the atmosphere was formed. The one on the right had developed something like a cramp. “Perhaps I’ll walk for a bit. Old-fashioned footwork and all that.” With one last arch of his back, he tucked his wings away and started walking, eyes still scanning the sky for any sign of pursuit.

Which was why he almost missed the sounds from the road up ahead. Voices, not loud, but numerous. Traveling in the same direction as he.

Crouching behind another car, Aziraphale watched them. Twenty, thirty – likely more – humans, traveling in a pack. A few had children, including the young woman at the back with short, dark hair. All of them were smudged with dirt, exhausted, and moving as fast as they could.

He shot another glance back towards the South Downs. There wasn’t much he could do to try and meet up with Crowley, not until the angels found whatever they were searching for. Assuming they weren’t searching for beings from another world, as that would make things immensely awkward.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Crowley was here. Crowley would find him. And in the meantime, a bit of detective work was in order.

A wave of his hands turned the battle outfit back to his usual suit. He did his best to shield himself, just in case, but it wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny. Hopefully the humans would be too distracted to notice his aura. Hopefully there would be no angels or demons.

“Right,” he muttered, adjusting his waistcoat and straightening his tie. “Time to get a few answers.”

(Kasbeel, according to my dictionaries of angels, means “He Who Lies to God.” Seemed accurate.)

#good omens #good omens celebration #good omens prime #goc2020 #aziraphale #light angst #bit of humor #good omens angels #My writing #What Might Have Been

23 notes · View notes

northsouth12 · 4 years ago

Text

How to actually do goals according to science

Every year I kind of sort of commit to some ~New Year’s Resolutions~ and every year I kind of sort of make progress on them. This year I was diagnosed with depression and that led to me doing a bunch of research on how brains work and working with a therapist (bless them) to learn how to be kinder to myself.

In 2021 I’m setting goals again, but also approaching my goal setting with a different, more compassionate, and more informed mindset. I think I’ve done a pretty good job of setting myself up for success and I wanted to put it out there a) because I learned public sharing helps with goal achievement and b) in case this information/plan could help anyone else. So if you are also tired of making aspirational lists of all the stuff you’re going to do with nothing to show for it, come on over!

PEOPLE WHO KNOW MORE THAN ME

For quick and easy learning, I recommend the following podcasts/websites, from where I have drawn most of this information:

(1). VOLITIONAL PSYCHOLOGY with Dr Joseph R Ferrari, Ologies podcast ( 1:05:56, transcript and notes on website). A podcast interview explaining what procrastination is and what we can do about it. Also be nice to yourself.

(2). FEAROLOGY with Mary Poffenroth, Ologies podcast (1:13:49, transcript and notes on website). A podcast interview explaining how stress is equivalent to fear and how to interrupt our body’s stress response to regain our health and sanity.

(3). “Golden Rules of Goal Setting” on MindTools.com. A website covering most of the actually scientifically backed goal setting advice without a lot of life coach BS.

(4). My therapist. Credit where credit is due, they are a godsend. I highly recommend these conductors of light.

BASICS OF GOAL ACHIEVEMENT

For people who hate reading, here are the spark notes. There’s more information and tips in the long version, but I understand that some people put together IKEA furniture without looking at the directions.

Use the SMART method to write goals:

Specific - well defined and clear how to accomplish

Measurable - precise definition of success

Attainable - doable but still challenging

Relevant - aligned with personal values

Time-bound - must have a deadline

Put goals in writing. Use “I will” rather than “I want to” and frame statements positively.

Write down why specifically you want to achieve each goal.

Make an action plan breaking goals into individual steps. Break tasks into smaller and smaller chunks until you get to a place you can make progress. No judgement, just move the bar until you can move forward.

Schedule regular check-ins to evaluate your progress.

Post goals and progress publicly.

Incentivize achievement.

Surround yourself with doers rather than (fellow) procrastinators.

ABOUT SUCCESS AND FAILURE

If you can achieve 80% of your goal, that is success. In fact, happiness peaks at 85% success and 15% failure. People feel happier failing a bit because then their goal feels challenging and worthwhile.

YOU WILL FAIL. It will happen. It is okay. Focus instead on how you will react and grow from your failure.

“Stress” and “fear” are effectively the same thing. Recognize and own your fear; don’t be ashamed of it. It is a natural response. Also, recognizing your stress as a fear response helps you determine the root cause, and then address it, or even use it as a growth opportunity. Successful people freely use the word “fear”.

For many procrastinators, their fear of failure also includes a fear of success. You are afraid to do the work because you are afraid of not being good enough. These people (me) are practicing “social esteem protection” - thinking that if I don’t finish a task, I can attribute it to a lack of effort rather than a lack of ability because it’s a “time management” issue. It’s not. Time management is a myth, and the end result is that you are letting down the same people you want so badly to like you.

Procrastination is a learned behavior, which means that you can unlearn it. The best way is through CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy) to reprogram your thinking for people who have a persistent issue with procrastination.

Forgive yourself for your failures the way you would forgive other people.

HOW TO SET GOALS STEP-BY-STEP

Sorry this section is long, but it turns out a lot of the keys to success in achieving goals starts with actually writing them properly. Who knew?

Set a deadline. The traditional New Year’s Resolution is supposed to last through the end of the year, but I’ve found that is too long a span. I end up procrastinating because “there’s so much time left” until there’s not and then “it’s too late to start now”..... So now I’m setting my goals seasonally: four sets of three months. My deadline for winter goals is March 21st, the Spring Equinox. As part of my public accounting, I have told everyone this, including a bunch of internet strangers.

Also key for us procrastinators is setting a start date. I gave myself a week to write my goals and make my action plan. I have to keep track of my progress starting Monday.

Determine your priorities and set limits. You cannot do everything, no matter how much you want to (procrastinator, remember?). Looking for layout inspiration on Pinterest I came across so many bujo people with 8 million goals on their page layout. That’s not happening. Remember that your goals are meant to create positive change and a sense of accomplishment, NOT cause more anxiety. So make limits. How do we do this?

Make a big list of aspirations first. You can do this by identifying your personal values and generating ways to emphasize those more in your life. You can make a list of everything that you’re afraid of (aka causes you stress) and then think about ways to address or confront those fears. For example if getting a bunch of work emails into your personal inbox every weekend ruins your Saturday, aspire to set some work/personal life boundaries! Or maybe you have something you’ve always wanted to do, like learn a language or set time aside for a hobby. Put it on the list.

Now you have to edit the list. You can keep it to refer back to for the next round of goals, but choose out the top priorities for the next three months. To help you do this, refer back to your personal values, or just ask yourself “why do I want to do this?” If the answer is because someone else thinks you should, nix it. This is for you and only you. I originally chose 8 priorities, and then cut it again to 6 aspirations total - keep the plan simple and manageable to set yourself up for success. Remember, 85% success is what we’re aiming for. I also tried to choose a mix of difficulty levels of the individual aspirations (exercising = freaking hard; keeping a gratitude log = pretty easy) so that I might get some early wins and momentum.

I also recommend that at least one priority is just something you know will make you happy. We all need to set aside time and energy for ourselves, and to stop feeling ashamed about doing stuff that makes us happy. What the actual f**k. Choose one thing you love -- reading, baking, petting animals, being outside -- and make it an official goal to do it more often. NO JUDGMENT.

Okay, now to format your priorities into achievable goals. You are going to take each one of those aspirations and put it into an “I will” statement with a quantifiable definition of success. For example, my aspiration to “sleep more” became “I will follow a bedtime routine for 21 days straight.” You want to make sure your statement is framed positively (rather than “I will not eat junk food”, try “I will eat healthier snacks”). Also think again about making your goal challenging but achievable. I did not write “I will sleep 6 hours a night” because I can’t control that. I chose 21 days straight as my success measure because I anticipate I’ll fall off the horse a few times before I get a successful streak, and three weeks would be good progress for me. Another thing you can do is use ranges like “I will pick up 1 - 5 items in my room each day.” This is a bit of a mind game where the low end of the range is easily achievable so you have no excuse not to do it. Often once you get started, you might find that you have energy for 5 items after all.

Now that you have your goalposts set up, write down those “whys” you thought about when you were choosing them. Recording why you want to do this specifically is helpful for your motivation as time passes and further clarifies your goal.

As we’ve learned, accountability helps! For each of your goals, write down how you will share your progress. I’ve asked different people to check in with me about my sleep and exercise routines. I’m reporting about my ongoing issues with procrastinating on my schoolwork to my therapist each week. For my goal to read more books, I’m posting a picture of each book I finish on my Instagram. And for my goals to keep a gratitude log and consume news in a healthier way, I’ve decided I can hold myself accountable. In addition, I’m using my journal to keep track of my progress towards all six goals.

Set a reward for each goal. This could be anything from a pack of your favorite chocolates for completing an easy goal to giving yourself permission to buy that sweater you’ve really wanted for achieving a super challenging goal. I am also trying out having bonus rewards such as a small reward for an 11-day streak on my sleep goal to give me a push of momentum. For my hardest/most important goal I also decided to do a “stretch goal” like with Kickstarter where I get a reward for overachieving. So maybe I went a little reward crazy, but we’ll see how it goes!

Finally, for each goal write down the actions you’ll need to take to achieve it. For me this is stuff like “draft a bedtime routine and share it” and under that, I plan to research by “listen to somnology podcasts” and “read sleep solution book”.

HOW TO MAKE PROGRESS

Whew, you made it through writing the goals and now you are set up for success! Here’s a few more tips to keep things moving.

Now that you’ve got your goals all set up, share them with the world! (Or at least the people you’ve decided to help keep you accountable). Sharing goals and progress publicly is proven to increase our likelihood to achieve them.

If you’re a journaler, make a nice goals layout and a tracker for your progress. I did not find good examples for achieving goals in a scientific way when I looked for inspiration on Pinterest. If there is a journaler out there who read all the way to the end of this post and made a nice layout, please share your artistry. My “layout” is just a list. :/

Surround yourself with doers. If you have trouble motivating yourself (me), ask a friend to pair up with you. I am doing a remote master’s degree. It is not going well. However, setting up a regular Zoom “work date” with a friend who is currently working from home has forced me to sit down and look at my schoolwork on a regular basis.

Schedule regular check ins to evaluate your progress and write them down! I have a combination of check-ins with my “accountants” as well as a plan to review my goal progress every Sunday when I plan my week. This is written on my to-do list on each Sunday to make sure I do it.

Go forth and conquer! And remember, failure is a fact of life and does not make you a bad person. It just means you are learning more about how to set your goals for next time!

#goals #2021 goals #new years resolutions #goal setting #goal achievement #science

3 notes · View notes