#and maybe get to an average of 5-6 days a week doing PT

[lights-all-askew]

y'know, I only met my weekly movement/exercise goal 60% of weeks this year, and I probably on average only did my lil PT exercises 3-5 times a week (the goal was every day)... but both of those are way, way more than I did last year. and that feels like a real win

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 9

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 Word Count: 2160 (average 16 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, nothing happens....yet ;) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil. Not beta-read. Criticism is welcome, but be sure to distinguish criticism from hate.

I looked for Altan everywhere, but I could not find him. I was at the market every morning looking for him. The vendors grew annoyed at my presence every morning. They told me I was bad for business with my grim expression. I didn’t really pay them any mind because I was too concerned about other things.

I told myself to stop worrying, that Altan clearly had just moved on now that things were done between us. I knew he had left home to get away from his father - or at least I assumed that from the way he talked - and I knew he likely couldn’t stay here forever. I had just hoped that all of those talks we had would mean something more…that maybe I could take the time to get to know him more.

I reopened my forge, tried to resume my work, but found that my mind would always stray to Altan and my hand would go up to the vial on my neck, playing with it. There was just this nagging feeling.

I was useless, completely useless. I found nothing could keep my focus for longer than a few minutes. My mind started to paint a different picture. What if Altan hadn’t left by choice? What if something was wrong? Something was telling me not to rest, not to settle down until I found him. 

I finally grew desperate enough to ask some of the inns around if they knew of him. Each one would consider me warily before answering. 

Luck would find me after a couple days of this, when the wife of one of the innkeeper’s pulled me down to take a seat and tell me all about the sweet boy she took care of that matched Altan’s description exactly. She handed me a piling plate of food - told me I looked like I could use it - before she told me all about how he would come and play at nights for the tenants.

“He had such an angelic voice. He sounded just like one of those glorious elves I hear about.” She reminisced. “He hid himself in his room for almost a week after a certain point. I left food at his door, and when he came out, he was a sorry mess.” She shook her head, her voice turning morose, “Not long after that, some official men came looking for him. They told us that he was the son of a duke. They grabbed his things and went and found him at the bathhouse and I suppose he’s back home.” She shook her head again. “He really was such a sweet young man.”

I felt my blood grow cold at the news of Altan being taken by his father’s people. His father was a Duke, a man of high rank. That meant Altan was also a noble. Immediate feelings of inadequacy and shame overwhelmed me. Who was I to Altan if nothing more than a distraction from his comfortable life? Maybe I was nothing more than a dalliance for the summer. I left the inn, feeling deflated and unsure what to do next.

I couldn’t sleep that night, my mind still stuck on Altan. I could swear that I was still experiencing lordhovid with all the time I was consumed thinking about him. I was worried. Genuinely worried. He didn’t say hardly two words about his father…but somehow I knew, I just knew that it meant something bad for him to be going back to him. He must have run away for a reason.

He had told me how much he had admired me and how I was his first friend. I couldn’t take any of that lightly. If he needed help, I might be the only person who could help him. 

The next day, I found myself stepping into the town’s library for the first time ever. The librarian looked at me with reluctance and disbelief that an orc would be in a library of all places. I ignored their ignorant comments, “Do you have any family charts of the Dukes that rule around here?” 

“What would you need it for?” The librarian asked.

“Do you have one or not?” I pressed, my tone impatient. 

The librarian’s eyes widened in fright and scurried away, returning with a book from a few years back that lists all of the Noble family names throughout the continent. 

I was still not the best at reading the common language, so I borrowed a paper and quill and wrote Altan’s name out so I could see exactly what it looked like and then my finger trailed over the lists, looking for any matches. The librarian watched me closely as I studied each name, one by one. I finally stopped when I found his name under the Family Hilmar. I ran my finger across his name again and again. Altan Hilmar. Altan Hilmar. His father was Taliesin Hilmar of Berdusk. His mother Telmira from Evermeet. A sun elf. 

The librarian aided me with a copy of a map that I studied finding the paths that would take me to Berdusk and I left with the librarian watching me with disbelief. 

The next day, I closed my forge again to the dismay of all my neighbors and customers and I was on the road again, this time with the intent to find Altan. I hoped that maybe seeing him would help me make sense of all of the feelings and thoughts I kept having about him and maybe I could help him too. 

The maps I followed that led me to Berdusk made the travel look straightforward. I kept to the main roads most of the time. I found my hand on the vial more and more often as my mind strayed to Altan through my walking. He was the main occupying thought in my brain. How was he? Was he safe? Is he happy? Am I wrong to do this? What if this is all a fools’ errand? Will he be happy to see me? What will I do when I see him? I pondered that last one a lot and I couldn’t deny that my arms around his waist was a frequent vision in my head. I still wondered what that would feel like.

When I entered the gates of Berdusk, not more than 6 days later, I noticed that most people’s eyes fell on me. It was not much of a diverse town. They were mainly human and they all seemed to watch me with a wary gaze. I caught one eye of a dragonborn who looked at me with an understanding nod. I nodded back before passing on and making my way towards the first inn I could spot. 

“We don’t make beds for folks like you.” The innkeeper said, glaring.

I nodded, “I’ll pay for a room with two beds then.”

“Don’t got any of those.” He said. 

I could spot the lie in his answer, but I didn’t fight it, instead I gave him my coin and walked up the stairs to where my room was. 

What in all of the nine hells was I doing here?

I played with the vial again and stared at the crimson liquid. I had pondered that little vial a lot while on the road and had considered maybe drinking it. It would have eased my anxiety of knowing exactly where Altan was, but I also didn’t know if it would be safe for him if I did that. I needed to know where he was before I did anything so foolish. Plus, I didn’t know what I really wanted yet. To see Altan, yes. To mate with him…that one still terrified me. But less so. If anyone were to be my mate…oh hells, these thoughts were so unfamiliar to me.

The bed was incredibly uncomfortable and I didn’t sleep well, but I awoke early in the morning and made my way towards the large mansion that sat above the rest of the town. I knew that would be where the Duke would be. However it was little use trying to make an appointment to meet with the Duke. The guards up front scoffed at my asking and dismissed me immediately without a dire need. I found myself growing more and more uncomfortable in this place.

I paced through the streets, my eyes always on the mansion above. I kept hoping I could spot him. I kept hoping I would find the answer I needed to know he was here, that he was okay. 

I never really got accustomed to the way people stared at me, and I felt like all of them were holding back their insults until I did something wrong. I was constantly on my guard. I didn’t really sleep much either. I started to have funny dreams of Altan alone in a room, separated from everyone and everything, pounding against a sealed door, begging to be set free, for someone to let him out. It troubled me every time I woke up from it. I didn’t know if it was my own brain making up this story…or if I should put more weight behind this dream.

I found myself on the main thoroughfare of the town when I noticed a crowd forming along both sides of the road. There was an excited energy about the people. I hung to the back of the forming crowds and wound through the shadows, staying out of sight. I was about to head inside and make myself scarce when I heard the people around me talking.

“It’s hunting day. That’ll be the Duke and his men coming down that hill” I heard a woman say to another woman.

I jerked my head up and looked up the road and felt my heart beat fast as I watched as a large gathering of men on horses slowly made their way down the main road. A pale-skinned man in a red robe was taking the lead on his own steed, looking proud as he waved to the people. His hair was dark, graying, and he wore a circlet. To his right was an even larger man with red-brown hair, a beard and dressed in armor. The men behind were also all armoured and their faces were concealed in helmets, except for three young riders that rode in the center of the guard. Each were young, tawny-skinned and bright eyed, more elfin in their features. And there in the middle, was the one with crimson curls and a strained smile on his face as he waved.

Altan. 

My Altan. 

My breath caught as I saw him there. He was there. He was there. He was right there.

Lordhovid was nothing compared to the want I felt then to jump in front of the horses and stall them from going any further. 

I gripped the vial and shouted his name before I could stop myself. 

He looked over in my direction, searching for who could have said his name. He drew his horse back and slowed, looking through the crowds. His smile fell when he saw me and over the din of the cheers and adulations from the crowds I could only see him mouth “Drun.” And I saw the same longing look in his eyes. We understood each other in that moment.

Our eyes did not stray from each other as the gathering passed on and even as he was going further and further from me, his head swiveled to keep me in his sight. He yelled something back at me, but I couldn’t hear or read his lips. I swam through the crowd, trying to keep him in my sight. I couldn’t let him go. 

“Altan!” I yelled again. Something in me, something I didn’t dare name, was pushing me to stay near him. I couldn’t lose him. 

I stood, devastated to watch him leave me. I pushed my way through the crowds and wrestled my way down the thoroughfare, doing everything in my power to keep him in my sights. I needed to know where he was going. I cut through alleyways to pass through the crowds. My orc hunting skills had never really left me and as I sniffed the air, I could follow the dust trail left behind by the horses and I cut through every back road I could until I could find them again at the bottom of the hill. 

Altan’s eyes met mine again and he shook his head. “Don’t.” 

He was warning me. I glanced over to the man at the front of the team and I saw steel in his eyes as he met my gaze. He turned back to Altan, then back at me. His gaze hardened and he urged the horses to go faster. His eyes followed me as they rode passed and I met his gaze with my own steely glare. He would not have my Altan.

[compo67]

Hi Cal! How are you doing?

Oh, anon. This is so kind of you to ask. <3

I am on the verge of okay. My father is leaving for Chile in a few days, so I will be getting a long, much-needed break from caregiving. I will be able to focus on myself and school, I won't have to drive so much, and I'll be able to stay at his place when I need alone time away from my own household.

But I will also be worried about him. If he needs something, I can't just hop into my car and drive over. And he can't just hop on a plane and fly back. I will have to just... learn how to let go a little.

More under the cut. TLDR; it's been a struggle these past few weeks.

My depression has been a lot to deal with. I'm sleeping too much and my moods are kind of all over the place. I'm also going through writer's and artists' block. Everything I try to write or draw comes out wrong. It's super frustrating and even more depressing. So I'm back to finding little pleasure in things that usually bring me joy. I have been working hard at my mental health through therapy, group therapy, and taking all my meds. Maybe with a break from caregiving, things will pick up.

I'm taking 3 classes this semester, but the school bundles it into one class--with sections in thirds. One section takes six weeks, another six, and another four. I'm in it for the long haul--I won't graduate until mid-May. I am not thrilled to be in this program (Human Resources Management), but I am very grateful that I get to go to school (it's good for my mental health) and it's way cheaper than grad school. But then again, I miss grad school a lot. I just couldn't afford it anymore. My plan is to find a good part-time job in HR, make some money, save some, and then, once I'm settled, go back to grad school and finish the second half of that degree. I really miss academic reading and writing.

And yet, I still don't want to go into the field of academia. :P

I wish I had a mentor. There's a mentor program at the local HR association near me, I'm just unsure if I should take part in it.

Chronic illness wise, I'm all right. I'm getting regular monthly infusions that have been helping my RA. My joints are loosey goosey like always, but my pain has come down from a 7-8 to a 5-6 most days. I'm so grateful for the relief. Part of that is from PT, edibles, acupuncture, a new muscle relaxer, and rest.

I'm trying to focus on going back to work. It's just kinda overwhelming to think about going back to a very structured routine, where right now I have a very flexible routine. Then I get into self-doubt, anxiety, etc. etc.

So. Overall? I think I'd average it out to: I'm okay. I'm hanging on. I wish I could write and draw more, so I could post more, but I am also trying to take the advice of many readers: rest and recharge.

I just have to trust that this will all work out in the end.

Thank you, anon. It was so cathartic to write this out. :)

[thewritingginger]

;) Alphabet - Hermes p.5

This is the final part of Hermes wink wonk alphabet HCs 

I had the will to write, perhaps thanks to alcohol but either way I hope you like it :D

Fandom: Blood of Zeus Letters: H, J, T, V, X, Y Warnings: NSFW 18+

Enjoy ~

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Has straight brown pubic hair that is kept short, if he can help it

Sometimes is grown out when more important matters are at hand taking his focus away from his grooming

Tries to groom himself maybe once every week or two when

Has a little sparse snail trail from his pubis to his navel

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Hermes, on an average week, will masterbate around 3-5 times

Mainly when he’s bathing for convenience of clean up and time tbh

However, there are nights where he is laying in bed and is frustrated and can’t be with you so he’ll rub one out to the thought of you

He usually will think of you on your knees before him, your doe eyes looking up through your lashes, as you massage his length in your hands

Usually uses his spit for lube

In a Modern AU he would ask if he could call you so he can hear your voice but he would be very shy and a bit embarrassed the first time he brings it up

However after that, and if you are into it, he requests that for when you cant be together and would want to hear you as well 😉

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

In a Modern AU Yes!

If you want to experiment with a toy or if it is something that you know helps you finish - like a vibrator - he will gladly try/use it

Is open to trying toys both on him and his partner

Owns a few toys; a simple vibrator, a cockring,& some light bondage; blindfold, silk ribbons/ soft ropes

Has used and enjoys from time to time the use of a butt plug - on his partner and himself

Overall, toys are great for added fun and foreplay to this boy

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s not super loud or super quiet - really depends on the day 

He does make noise tho

Lots of deep sighing and drawn out moans

Says your name a lot - sometimes almost  chants it when he’s close to coming, especially when you are giving him head

Sometimes if you get him in a particularly needy state and tease him enough you can get him to whimper and whine a bit 😩

“Please, Y/n - ah ha.”

Can get a bit louder when he’s close to finishing but his voice cuts out and becomes a silent/choked groan when he cums

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Definitely a grower

A solid 6 - 6.5 inches with a slight curve to the right when hard

About average girth

The tip is a bit wider than his shaft and gets quite pink with erect

Not very veiny maybe one or two

Has a generally tight sack, they don't hang too much and are an average size

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

On an average week anywhere between 3-4 times a week

His sex drive isn’t crazy in either direction, depending on the week

However there is at least one week every month  where it spikes a bit, whether that's due to stress or just wanting to be close to you

Want to see more? Let me know 

Feedback and interaction is always appreciated :3

💛 ~

Other Parts - Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4

~ Masterlist ~

[fandom-hoarder]

listen I have so many questions about Stanford Sam, like this kid who was raised in the wild, barely aware of acceptable social conduct arrives with his 2 ectoplasm stained t-shirts at his dorm and like ????? is he very aware of it at first? or does he think he's hiding it well? and like moving in with Jessica?????? he doesn't know how to water plants and that you have to pay electricity bills ??? Like obviously he's not stupid, we know that!! But there are certain things about ordinary everyday life that are just impossible to pick up when you're raised like that. And this is just surface-level stuff, like I feel overwhelmed just thinking about how many tiny things I do in a day, just normal life stuff that I've always done, that Sam would be like ???? so weirded out by, or maybe creepily fascinated ??? Would he try and copy everyone around him maybe??? and then all the odd things that he'd probably do !!! like just basic marine survival nonsense he's dad probably taught him applied in mundane life situations that would make him stand out and he wouldn't even notice !!! And he thinks he's doing fine, people seem to accept him, but then suddenly someone mentions like... TRL or something and he's like ??? and then Dean picks him up and it all falls to pieces, because it's so EASY and ingrained and he doesn't have to pretend and it puts it into perspective how not okay he was doing at Stanford even when it felt like he was ?? god I'm just rambling, like I barely even have headcanons, I'm just so overwhelmed by all the possibilities of how this would play out !!!!

Holy crap, first I wanna apologize if this has been sitting here awhile. The Ask notification location in settings instead of notifications on the app is so weird and I get them so rarely I don’t think to check. (and the website shows that I have 4 but this one is the only one it’ll show? How does tumblr work? Oh yeah, it doesn’t lol.)

Anyway, I have so many thoughts on this! But they’re not necessarily cohesive?! Like first we all know Sam is super smart. He’s curious. He’s inquisitive. But he’s also sheltered in weird ways. There are things he’s known about the world that most people would never know about, let alone kids his age at any given time; yet the existence of those things--and the understanding that therefore potentially anything could be real--also lends itself to keeping him childlike--he had an “imaginary friend” at age nine and believed in the Easter bunny through age eleven, which is much later than the average probably???

By middle school, he definitely would’ve been feeling the strains of his otherness around his classmates, even if they weren’t constantly moving around, but of course the nomadic lifestyle just makes it even harder.

I think Sam is a very observant person, though. He figured out something was up with their dad and The Truth at age 8! So people watching is Sam’s saving grace for getting along in the mundane world. He definitely learns to mask his otherness by mimicking mundane people.

And I get sidetracked here because then I start thinking about exactly how their childhood went. We know John used Pastor Jim and Bobby as childcare/parenting support to some degree. I don’t think we really know anything about Caleb, maybe I’m forgetting something, but my headcanon is that Caleb functioned as a “fun younger uncle” type to Sam and Dean: cool, responsible in a pinch, but mostly not given childcare responsibilities because of his wilding tendencies. (they learn swears accidentally from Bobby and John, but Caleb TEACHES them.) Sam and Dean didn’t even know about Missouri until s1, so she’s off the caretaker list. They had that babysitter they met up with in uhh... Swap Meat! But largely we assume that Dean had a lot of the caretaking responsibilities; maybe with temporary babysitters in other places the same as Swap Meat.

And lbh you just can’t expect well-rounded, informed child-rearing from a kid only four years older. There’s a reason I associate a lot of weechester flashbacks with Sammy watching TV like in Something Wicked, because literally little siblings are A LOT and sometimes you just want them to sit still and quiet and leave you alone for a bit omg.(wait, give me a minute, I’m imagining little 6 year old Dean on the phone with Bobby because John ran out for food supplies and isn’t back yet and Sammy is still asleep but Dean’s creeped out in the longterm room they’re staying in because he KNOWS about the supernatural already. but then bobby gets on John’s case about it--and instead of never leaving Dean alone with baby Sam again, Dean learns from John’s belt not to call anyone when he’s left alone unless it’s an ACTUAL EMERGENCY. Or maybe, because marine, John doesn’t use his belt; maybe he uses PT instead and every time Dean thinks about calling Bobby for that reason again, his abs ache from the memory of punishment situps, or his arms get suddenly shaky thinking about doing pushups til he just couldn’t anymore.)

I haven’t read all of John’s Journal, and I know it’s not actually canon, but IIRC the bits that I’ve read from the wiki show John and the boys staying with a family friend in Lawrence for a few weeks, MAYBE a few months before John visits Missouri and everything STARTS. I think if he hadn’t picked up and left with them then, the family friends would’ve been contacting CPS because they’re starting to think John’s grief is making him unhinged. (I really want to read the journal tbh--there are bits I’ve seen that make me fantasize even more about boyking!sam storylines... but I’m getting even more off track.)

So we’ve got this weird/interesting dichotomy of kids that are groomed with these hyperspecialiizations, too weird to really fit in with other kids but sheltered from the actual hunter life also--like the fact that there ARE other hunters, like as a THING, not just their dad’s rando friends that, as kids, they may just assume know about the supernatural because their dad told them! (jfc they’re SO PRIMED to be each other’s entire world omg I’m gonna die)

So like, by being quiet and observant (an imaginative kid, by nature and by nurture as John starts to take Dean out more and leave Sam alone with his own thoughts), Sam would pick up a lot of things. But they’re never anywhere long enough for him to fully grasp everything and he would definitely suffer a bit from the Dunning-Kruger effect--not having enough knowledge about a thing, but having just enough that you don’t realize you don’t.

Let’s say Sam observes and picks up some things about normal residential life by being around a few mundane babysitters. The nature of John’s “work” would mean that, even if they were in a more in-home-daycare-like situation, they’d be likely to be the “after hours” kinds of kids that are still there when everyone else is picked up and the babysitter would normally be doing their normal life stuff: changing clothes, cleaning up from the daycare kids, making dinner, etc (sam and dean would definitely help, either out of kindness or duty or because it’s agreed that if they help out John will get a discount on their care costs--don’t mind me, just projecting my childhood onto the winchesters hahh. I’m NOT going to go off on a tangent about Dean already having so much experience caring for babies cuz of Sam. He definitely doesn’t have all the under-4s following him around begging for attention while he burps one of the three babies their babysitter cares for after a bottle. it DEFINITELY didn’t make Sam (age 4, 5, 6 maybe) jealous enough to repress the memory so that over a decade later he would claim that Dean doesn’t even LIKE kids.)

Uhh... what was I talking about? Oh yeah, Sam. Observing normal life. Anyway so maybe after things settle for the day, sometimes a babysitter will sit at the dining table with the weekly bills and their checkbook and do the bills. And Sam kind of loves things like this: it feels like something important; it feels like playing school before he was old enough to go (quick aside here: John totally enrolled Sam in school early, both because that’s the only way his age works with canon timeline and because it would make life easier if Sam was in school just like Dean--more cost-and-time efficient.) And maybe Sam goes and sits at the table and just. Watches.

And then he asks questions. When he’s curious, he doesn’t keep his questions to himself as a child (unless the subject is expressly forbidden: see Dean’s reaction when Sam brings up Mary). But his age would inevitably limit the scope and understanding of those questions. Adults are generally disinclined to fully explain the adult world to children, especially when it comes to finances, and in the 80s and early 90s?? With most of the adults of that time that I knew, those kinds of questions were considered rude and nosey. He might understand that adults have to pay bills; he may even understand something about utilities; but he wouldn’t necessarily understand all the requirements and frequency.

Though their nomadic lifestyle wasn’t stable by any “normal” definition, one thing to be said about mostly living out of motels is that your power is never cut off, or your water, or your heat. There’s always television, usually with cable. And the only form of payment you see going on is dad handing over cash or plastic at the front desk--one and done. My headcanon usually disallows the idea that they would’ve squatted in empty houses when Sam and Dean were kids (John makes plenty of bad decisions but I just don’t see him staying in a place without power or water with CHILDREN. Teenagers? SURE.) They would learn how to clean house and make proper beds even when it wasn’t always necessary with housekeeping available--both because of John’s military parenting style and because John would be most likely to opt out of daily housekeeping to lower the risk of having people ask questions.

So yeah, there are so many little intricacies of the mundane world that Sam wouldn’t be conditioned to even think about. Even the realization that he doesn’t know enough about regular life, as he grows up and longs more and more for that very thing because he’s never had more than a glimpse of it, wouldn’t necessarily be enough.

Would his natural curiosity lead him to ask those questions? He can’t ask John because he already asked Dean and got a dismissive answer because ‘what does any of that matter, Sam? we’ll never have to worry about that shit.’ and if Dean seems borderline offended by the sheer audacity of the questions in the first place, he knows John will be worse.

In the 90s, life skills were still kind of a thing in most U.S. schools. But in a really inconsistent way. Sometimes it was in health class curriculum; sometimes your math class would actually do a short focus on balancing a checkbook and banking if there was a chapter, but a lot of times those parts get skipped. You never use the whole textbook. Sometimes life skills was only in Home Ec, but H.E. was completely elective in my area when I was in middle school (the same exact years Sam would’ve been in middle school) and I’m assuming the same for most of the U.S. Sam may have taken it, or he may have taken something else instead (wood shop or computer class were the alternatives in my area). Maybe the nature of school hopping meant that he HAD to enroll in Home Ec, because resources for the other electives were finite, but somehow always managed to miss the bills and budgeting portion. Maybe he couldn’t even take Home Ec due to class size or resources and they just put him in a study hall for that period. (Maybe they put him in the computer class, where he mostly does book work until he gets a turn on the PC he has to share with his classmate.)

As an observant person, Sam totally would’ve known about TRL, I think. There’s no way at least one group of kids in the halls or lunchroom wasn’t talking about it every day in high school, especially with the advent of Britney Spears and Eminem and Jesse freakin Camp. Maybe he goes to someone’s house to try to hang out or to study and they turn it on and Sam watches raptly because it’s such a strange phenomenon and he hardly ever gets to hear new music, much less watch the videos. But he can’t actually get into it because the fangirls are annoying and his analytical mind won’t let him suspend his disbelief about how the voting works. (Maybe he tries giving it another shot in their motel room sometimes, but Dean vetoes that bubblegum pop shit IMMEDIATELY--no Sam, look, that shit isn’t REAL music; most of them don’t even play instruments. And it’s really not fair because Dean TOTALLY watched MTV’s The Grind in the early 90s for his fix of suggestively gyrating bodies before he figured out how to access porn without getting caught.)

Sam and Dean actually make a LOT of pop culture references, which always fascinates me. I imagine they did a lot of TV watching and VCR/movie renting in the times they weren’t working on a case with/for their dad (projecting again; my dad’s house was a very boring place on his weekends). The nature of Dean’s idolization of John and disinclination to let Sam have his own separate likes means they have a mix of age-appropriate pop culture knowledge and a lot of Boomer-era TV and movie knowledge--Dean more than Sam, maybe when it comes to things like cowboy movies and TV lol.

Anyway, as the realization that he doesn’t really know how anything works crept in, maybe Sam would try to lowkey create situations where he could ask his friends/his friends’ parents those normal life kind of questions. But maybe after his first few tries, he’s become so uncomfortably aware of how weird he is to even need to ask that he stops asking. Maybe he starts to tap into his specialized skills and starts snooping/creeping around their houses to try to glean knowledge. Maybe he scours the library for books on ‘what you need to know for life’--I have the urge now to do a google search on actual titles of books on this subject that may have existed at the time, but I’ve already spent a lot of time on this without going into research spirals. lol Maybe he can’t find exactly the things that are pertinent--still doesn’t fully realize that, though--and in the meantime his cache of esoteric knowledge continues to build.

So he gets to Stanford and he mostly understands how the financing works; enough to get by with enrollment and stuff. He understands that he’ll need to get a job of some sort to make ends meet because he’s there to be normal and normal people don’t pay for everything with scammed credit cards and billiards money; he knows that much. But he doesn’t really know about wages, minimum wage, freaking payroll taxes, etc. (I feel like Dean would’ve had odd jobs as a teen, some legit some under the table, but that the nature of John (and Dean) wanting to keep Sam home and safe would’ve made the subject of Sam working through high school a banned topic. And anyway, much as I’m not a fan of the characterization in Drag Me Away (From You), what Dean said to Sam about the impossibility of getting into college with the way his academic career would look is accurate. So Sam would’ve probably spent most of his free time on academics so he could get the fuck out, rather than trying to get a job.

Maybe having to buy his textbooks would be a surprise? John probably always qualified for Sam and Dean to be on free lunch/free book programs in public school, not to mention the likelihood of the records being at least partially counterfeit. But at the same time, John was probably very hands off with their school enrollment crap once the boys were old enough to handle it themselves, so Sam would at least have an inkling.

Sam would be a weird mix of no-boundaries and too-secretive, and his first attempts at acting normal would be a bit too put-on. He’s got experience acting per 1x16 (oh, maybe he did drama instead of home ec somewhere lol), but acting on stage is so much different to acting in a more personal setting. On stage you have to exaggerate your movements to project all the way to the back. Early-Stanford Sam, I guess, is a bit like Soulless Sam. He knows there’s something off about him compared to the people around him, and he just does his best to pretend he’s the same as them without calling attention to his differences, which ends up coming off robotic. A little Stepford. A little uncanny valley. He learns to bite his tongue every time he’s about to let something normal only to his family roll off it; learns to be even more vague than he used to be, because now he’s around strangers ALL THE TIME.

At some point, Sam has a little-but-big breakdown about a payment he missed or the fact that he had to steal shampoo because he didn’t even have toiletries in his budget and couldn’t even afford a bottle of White Rain or Suave, so since he was stealing anyway he got the special brand he really likes and then feels too awful to even use it and doesn’t wash his hair for a week. Brady takes pity on the cute but hapless puppy-boy who is a physical and academic behemoth but has obviously been living off-grid on some kind of militia commune for the past forever--at first the rumor was that he was Amish on rumspringa but the amount of times Sam has busted out some supremely random survival knowledge in casual conversation changes that rumor quickly--and has no understanding of the world. And by the time he moves off-campus with Jess, Sam has this masking thing down pretty well; he can almost forget he’s not normal sometimes and Jess only knows about his previous helplessness in a cute, anecdotal kind of way.

And then Dean comes and gets him and Sam’s all “you and Dad still doing credit card scams?” and Dean’s like “well hunting doesn’t pay the bills.”

AND SAM’S LIKE, NEITHER DO YOU DEAN! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT BILLS ARE?! BECAUSE I DIDN’T AND IT WOULD’VE BEEN NICE TO KNOW!

[perfeggso]

Noir (yutae)

Week I pt. 2

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3  |  Chapter 4  |  Chapter 5  |  Chapter 6  |  Chapter 7  |  Chapter 8  | Masterlist 

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 2k (will progressively get way longer)

They had beaten Taeyong when he had asked.  He had gotten on his knees before the leader of the Specters and implored him humbly to let him join.  He would be a model warrior, he had assured: would fight unquestioningly anyone who challenged the gang and never run away.  He could prove himself.  The Spectors’ leader had pointed to the full red circle on his white headband.  Don’t you know we don’t accept gaijin ?   I’m not a gaijin , Taeyong had argued, only to be met with a venomous cackle.  Taeyong was sure he had felt a thin rain of spit land on him from the force of the laugh.  What are you then, Zainichi?  That’s worse!  Then they beat him. That was seven years ago, but it still carried trauma for Taeyong.

Gassan-ya was not Taeyong’s favorite bar, but it was doing him good to laze there at the counter drinking alone, eating peanuts, and listening to a mixture of citypop hits from the jukebox behind him and a report on Mitsubishi’s rising stock values on the television hanging from the ceiling.  That’s what he had been doing, until the Specters came zooming on their souped-up bikes past the front windows, hooting and hollering in their white uniforms, and banging baseball bats and rusty pipes against the pavement as they went.  Taeyong cursed to himself upon seeing the group of boys speeding off to a battle, shoving a handful of peanuts in his mouth and swigging the rest of his beer before ordering another.

He could never figure out why he was always so enamored with the Bosozoku boys he saw; why he had felt a need to become one.  Was it his desire for a sense of identity and belonging?  A need to act out against his parents’ authority?  The terrifying thrill he got from imagining himself in battle, taking a bat to some poor young man’s head?  Was it self-hatred?  He figured the correct answer was probably all of the above.  Walking around for almost a quarter century in Japan with the name Lee Taeyong had naturally brought him nothing but rejection – professional, academic, romantic, you name it.  And those who had accepted him were often no better off in life than he was.  Two of his best friends were locked away for petty theft, after all.

So, Taeyong had tried to join a violent biker gang at the age of seventeen, learning to ride his dad’s old motorbike, style a pompadour, and roll his R’s in preparation to make his case.  He did it because if he was going to be an outcast he at least wanted to be an outcast that someone could give a damn about.  He liked the thought of letting off some steam in a grand way, of being a source of fear for prosperous average Japanese people, of claiming his own place in the warrior tradition.  And it would have pleased him to have one of those bikes too.

But it had gone horribly wrong when he did make his case, and now he was too old for the Bosozoku anyway.  He spent his days working at an autobody shop and his nights drinking and trying not to get too close to anyone.  You see, Taeyong was a sensitive boy, but he lived in a world where it didn’t pay to be sensitive.

The bartender slid Taeyong his Sapporo over the counter as the rumble of twenty Bosozoku bikes was finally fading into the night, and he downed the drink as quickly as he possibly could.  It was a nice night and he needed to get out into the fresh air.

Taeyong left the bar on the outskirts of Tokyo and rounded the corner to a sidewalk perpendicular to a small alleyway.  Taeyong noticed curiously the sound of what he could only assume was an interpersonal struggle coming from the alley behind Gassan-ya: feet scraping against asphalt, heavy breaths, and urgent growled arguing.  Against his better judgement, perhaps because he had exceeded his usual drink limit, Taeyong decided to investigate, clutching the switchblade he kept in his pocket and tiptoeing cautiously as if attempting to approach a spooked deer.  When he got close enough to see, he found two men in trench coats hovering over the man Taeyong recognized as managing the bar in some capacity.  In the dusky light it was hard to make out anything clearly, but Taeyong was pretty sure at least one of the men held a revolver.  Taeyong tightened his grip on the knife and peeked out from behind a stack of liquor crates since he didn’t know what else to do and his curiosity was getting the best of him.  As if that would save him.  

“I’m sorry, we’re just a little short!” The man on the ground was attempting to explain – his voice hoarse.

“Well we’re sorry, but we need 30,000 for this week.”

“Please!” protested the apparent victim. “We’ll get it to you soon. Just – just give us a couple days.  I’ll do anything you need and we won’t be late again!”

Taeyong assumed the assailants would respond with something, but instead, the man on the ground seemed to spot him spying, their eyes locking, and Taeyong’s heart plunged into his stomach as the men in trench coats turned around and aimed at him.

“Come out, whoever you are,” said the closer one, “hands above your head!”  Were they cops?

Hesitantly, Taeyong crept out from his hiding spot and raised his arms as his lips attempted to form something coherent to say.

“What are you doing here?” Asked the other one.

What was he doing there?    

“I – I heard something.  I thought it might be a mugging…I’m sorry, I’ll just go.”

“Don’t move,” said the first one.  He turned to his partner.  “Take him to the van.  Kid’s a liability.”

“Yes sir!”  The farther one approached Taeyong and all of a sudden, his mind was spinning not just from the alcohol but also from the battle raging in his mind between the urge to run and the knowledge that he could very well lose his life.  If he were a wild animal, he would be playing dead.

Evidently, Taeyong didn’t think quickly enough, because his kidnapper had already reached him and taken off his hat to cover Taeyong’s face with.  He was led to a van, then formally blindfolded and handcuffed and left to wait for the two men to finish doing whatever they planned to do to that poor bar-owner.

The next several hours were the most terrifying and disconcerting thing that Taeyong had ever experienced.  First, they took him into the city to somewhere in Aoyama, he was pretty sure, and proceeded to have a conversation about him as if he weren’t right there with a man named Gwang-suk (Taeyong noted the Korean name with a mixture of comfort and dread).  Should they kill him?  Please, no .  Should they let him go? That would be greatly appreciated .  Should they recruit him?  To do what exactly??? Taeyong had deduced at this point that he was being held by one or another yakuza syndicate, but beyond that he could not have been more lost.  Then, Gwang-suk suggested they take Taeyong to someone named Nakamoto and that was that: back in the car.

A twenty-minute drive and he was marched into another building and shoved into a chair at an oak desk and finally allowed to see his surroundings.  Taeyong heard a man and a woman talking muffled through a wooden door behind the desk which, when it slid open, revealed a handsome man with white hair and piercings wearing a snakeskin suit.  In fact, Taeyong was briefly distracted by just how handsome the man was.

“ Shategashira !” Taeyong’s kidnappers bellowed, saluting the younger man who was now seated at the desk facing Taeyong.

“At ease,” he said coolly in a rounded Osaka accent.

The man on Taeyong’s left spoke.  “We’re sorry to interrupt you and Ms. Hirai, sir!”

“That’s no problem,” said the man Taeyong could only assume was “Nakamoto.”  “Work is always my priority as you know.”

“Of course, sir!”

The two men recounted their version of events with great enthusiasm and Nakamoto listened.  When they were done, he looked at Taeyong straight-on and asked, “is this all accurate?”

The directness startled Taeyong.  “Um – yes, factually that’s more or less it.  But I was never trying to get into any trouble!  I promise I would never talk!”

“Yes,” said Nakamoto, seeming to search Taeyong’s face.  “I’m sure you wouldn’t.  But you see, the Inagawa-kai simply can’t afford any loose ends, as I hope you understand.”  So that’s whose custody he was in, Taeyong realized, only the third largest and second most powerful criminal organization in Japan – maybe in Asia.  No sweat.  

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?” Nakamoto asked.

“Taeyong.  Lee Taeyong.”

Nakamoto nodded knowingly.  “Mm, I figured that’s why you ended up here.  I deal with all the zainichi .”  

Nakamoto was the first Japanese person Taeyong had heard say that word without even a hint of distaste and this fact only confused his fear even further.  Taeyong had never felt more helpless.  Here he was, with no idea how anything around him worked nor what it meant, his life so fully in the hands of this beautiful man across from him that it made his head pound.  

“So, Taeyong.  Let’s figure this out.  Where are you from?  What do you do?  Tell me a bit about yourself.”

What is this, a job interview?

“I…well…um, I grew up in Shin-Ōkubo and I uh, still live there.  I work in an auto shop fixing cars.  I’m 24?  What else do you need to know?”

“We’re the same age,” remarked Nakamoto with a slight smile, and Taeyong wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be a means of connection between the two men or a subtle jab at Taeyong’s relative lack of status.  Either way, the nervous shaking in Taeyong’s body was beginning to fade as he became more and more confident he was not in imminent danger of death.  However, he couldn’t completely rule out the possibility he was being toyed with.

Nakamoto spoke again.  “How about your family?”

“We’re not very close,” said Taeyong.  “We only speak very occasionally.”

“Well,” Nakamoto responded, “we’re similar in that regard as well.  Do you have a criminal record?”

Taeyong was a bit taken aback by the question, but he was speaking with a gangster, so it wasn’t too out of the blue.  “I’ve stolen some shit, but I don’t usually get caught.  Spent a couple nights in jail for property damage a while ago.  Things like that, I guess?  I was sort of in a gang with my close friends in high school, but we didn’t do much other than loiter.  When I tried to join more established gangs I was rejected.”

“I see,” said Nakamoto, “well you could still always join a gang, if you haven’t already outgrown that impulse.”

Was this the recruitment his kidnappers had mentioned?  How on earth to respond?  “Oh?”

Nakamoto laughed, a sharp sound.  He was apparently done dealing with his victim and turned to the larger of the men who had abducted Taeyong.  “Find someone to go back home with him and monitor him tonight.  I think we’ll make him a foot soldier.  It’s better than the alternatives.  Understood?”

“Yes, Shategashira !”

Yuta turned back to Taeyong, who had gone tense against his chair.  What’s a foot soldier?  For Inagawa-kai? Would he have a gun?  Could he even fire a gun?? What were those alternatives that would be unspeakably worse??? And what was he supposed to say to his boss????

Nakamoto addressed Taeyong one more time.  “I hope you understand that this is for your own good and that you won’t resent me. I'm confident that we can come to an understanding.  I’ll be seeing you soon.”  And with that, Nakamoto was back out the door and Taeyong was once more being hauled to his feet.       

[theshybooknerd]

Throne of Glass - Sarah J. Maas

“We all bear scars, [...] mine just happen to be more visible than most.”

2/5? Honestly, some parts were a 3 and some a 0... Also: spoilers ahead, the opinions I express are purely personal and if you like the book that’s cool too, yadda yadda yadda.

I heard of Throne of Glass as the first instalment of an amazing YA series, and a friend of mine recommended it to me. I was at Comic Con, saw it, read the back cover and thought “well why not?”. The plot sounded awesome: an enslaved girl who’s also the most famous assassin of the known world? check; a to-the-death competition to gain freedom? check; a complex set of  magic/laws/creatures? check. Unfortunately, NONE OF IT WAS IN THE BOOK. 

Setting

The story is set in Erilea, this not-so-well-defined continent. All we know is that  the King of Adarlan, a “really bad” king, is conquering all the territories, apart from Eyllwe (not sure why he wants them as allies), and is outlawing magic. To be fair, the entire story takes place in Endovier and its salt mines, then the Glass Castle in Rifthold (Adarlan), and nowhere else so the only info we have about the other places come from either a couple of characters, or the (perfectly useless) map at the beginning. Also, the names are an obvious mixture of LOTR and The Elder Scrolls.

Plot

If you’ve read the book skip to the next part, I’m not going to say anything new.

I’m going to keep it short, especially because there is no plot whatsoever in 3/4 of the book. Celaena Sardothien is the most famous assassin of Erilea and has been imprisoned for about a year in Endovier. All of a sudden, the Crown Prince of Adarlan (Dorian Havillard) gives her the chance to fight as his proposed Champion-wannabe in a to-the-death tournament. If she wins, she’ll be the Champion of Adarlan and, after serving for four years, she’ll be free. She is escorted to Rifthold by Dorian, the Captain of the Guard, Chaol Westfall, and a bunch of people.

Celaena accepts (not that she had a choice). The competition, it turns out, is not really to-the-death especially because all of the tests before the final trial look like middle-school PE lessons, with a touch of fantasy. Of course, since every YA needs that, there is the love triangle developing (Celaena-Dorian-Chaol). While she is training and attending the tests, she stays in the castle, reads a lot, is sent a bazillion precious dresses and meets a princess from Eyllwe, Nehemia, who we understand that will do something important at the end but for the rest she’s a plant.

The Champions start being killed in a terrible way (dismembered/eaten) and of course Celaena wants to find the culprit. She finds a passageway conveniently placed in her room (?), which leads to corridors and doors. Long story short, she is contacted in her sleep or in a sort of weird dream by the first Queen of Adarlan, Elena, who tells her that the clock tower of the castle is a portal to other dimensions, and someone wants to open it to summon evil. No real reason behind it. Celaena also gets this “magical” necklace from Elena. No one is suspicious.

Celaena continues her investigations, finds out that Cain, the obviously bad and suspicious Champion, has been summoning the ridderak (the creature that killed the Champions). She destroys the ridderak, then the story continues, she gets to the final stage of the tournament (in which, lo and behold, the Champions fighting cannot kill each other but just submit the other competitors). She has a final fight with Cain, her drink is spiked, she hallucinates, she gets in a weird dimension, Cain summons evil creatures, Nehemia does some hocus-pocus and summons Elena in Celaena’s dream, all the creatures are pushed back to their dimension and Celaena wins. 

That’s it. Action packed eh? 400 pages in four paragraphs.

My opinion

Well done, you’re in the part where I express my salt opinions. 

First of all: the characters are all incredibly dumb and naïve. Especially Celaena. She is not the stereotypical YA main character, she is worse. Emotionally unstable, awfully stupid, with the wisdom of a 6-year old kid. I expected a deadly assassin (have I already said that “she’s the most famous assassin of all Erilea”?) and got a pampered princess. 

The writing style is awful. I am really surprised that someone can actually write this description and still be published: “in short, Celaena Sardothien was blessed with a handful of attractive features that compensated for the majority of average ones [...]”. The descriptions are all very plain or too long, and also, in some parts, reminded me of the descriptions of clothes in My Immortal. Yes, that bad. And what about the fight scenes? The main character is an assassin (the most famous assassin in Erilea, pt. 372) and all the action scenes are... bland. She either cannot recollect what happened, or some superior force helps her, or they are just not described. I’m sorry Sarah J Maas, but if you cannot write a good action scene, stick to love stories! 

My expectations were clearly not met. What is the point in saying that the tournament is to-the-death and then making people just wrestle? Too violent? What about the gutted people and the very vivid descriptions of the blood spattered everywhere? Also I hoped for a main character that is strong, witty, maybe slightly damaged. I got a pampered princess who likes good dresses and thinks about her appearance at least fifteen times a day. After the terrible worldbuilding, I thought that, at least, there would be a fully developed magic/fantasy lore. Nope, magic is mentioned but not described, then there is other creatures called Fae that are utterly useless and appear once never to be seen again, no detailed religion, no detailed politics. Just love triangle and some pseudo-fights.

The plot holes are devastating, and are so deep that the Mariana Trench is a puddle in comparison. I’ll just say this: why did they take away all the knives but not the forks or the cue sticks? Why is she treated like a princess but not allowed at parties/balls? 

Final remarks

Ok so, it’s not the worst book I have ever read. I enjoyed some parts, they were mildly entertaining. I didn’t really like it, but I didn’t 100% dislike it, either... It’s certainly among the lowest rated books though. It is an easy read, I finished it in about a week (as a side book, not the main book I was reading). Perfect for turning off your brain, maybe on holiday. I refuse to support the marketing of this book as “feminist YA novel”, because the idea of Celaena as a feminist icon makes me shiver. Let’s say that the idea behind it was good and the execution was incredibly poor. There were incredibly unnecessary parts, like the love triangle. I will probably read the other ones in the series, but just because I am a self-destructive reader who enjoys a good dose of cringeworthy trash (or trashy cringe) every now and then. 

[puppetwritings]

Please! This isn’t a Game! || Pt. 1 || Jeonghan

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt. 4 // Pt. 5 // Pt. 6 //

➢ Word Count: 4332

➢ Genre: sci-fi, fantasy, fluff, comedy, transmigration

➢ Summary: What do you do when you get thrown into an unknown world? Well, Jeonghan sure as heck does not know.

--------

“This isn’t a game,” the system said. “This is real life. If you die here, you’re really going to die! There’s not even a guarantee that you’ll go back to your reality. It’s better if you just take the long route. Don’t try to do anything flashy! Be lowkey! And please don’t join the military!”

Jeonghan’s lips were pressed into a line as he trudged through the crowd. His brows were furrowed and anyone who stood longer than three seconds in his path were faced by an icy glare. “Listen, you trashy system, I didn’t get on my knees and snivel and cry to that dumb old man, just for you to tell me my genius idea is bad.”

The system shrank back and said nothing as it watched Jeonghan signed his name on the check-in for the civil exam.  

“I know what I’m doing. Plus, you can boost my specs, can’t you?” Jeonghan said, putting the pencil back into the cup and moving aside.  

“I can! I can, but I can’t make you indestructible!”

“Then I’ll just become so powerful that I’ll be indestructible,” Jeonghan smirked to himself as he started to walk back through the crowd.

Yoon Jeonghan, nearly thirty, had been transmigrated into the body of a twenty-three-year-old with the same exact appearance as him and even the same name. The only difference? It was an alternate universe where magic ruled and the world wasn’t on the verge of falling apart.

He actually liked this place better. He wasn’t attached to stuffy rules, flashy cameras and paparazzi that poked themselves into his business, or parents who scolded him for anything he did “wrong”. It wasn’t “wrong”, it was just unconventional. And here, Jeonghan could be as unconventional as he wanted to be.

The only thing he was attached to was--

“Are you even listening, Host?!”

“Totally not,” Jeonghan easily answered.

The system wanted to cry. “I was explaining the timeline to you.”

“No need, I got it. This guy, Yoon Jeonghan, lived a tortuous life with his dad and his half-brother. This is a universe with magic and he was what people in Harry Potter would call a squib. He found out his half-brother was trying to take over the world, tried to stop him, and died!” Jeonghan easily summarized. He cockily tilted his head at the system. “His dying wish was to be stronger, fiercer, cunninger, and be able to take down his older brother, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right. You got everything right, but,” the little orb that the system embodied turned a bright red before it bellowed, “Why are you joining the military!?”

“His dad and brother are in the military, right? General and, what was it? Colonel?”

The system sighed. “And do you know what I am, even?”

“A system.”

“Yes?”

“An information giver. An NPC that gives quests,” Jeonghan said. “Um, Navi in Legend of Zelda. Hey, you even look like her. All you need are wings.”

The system would cry if it could. Of all the hosts it could have chosen, why did it choose this guy!?

Jeonghan sensed the system’s distress and he sighed. “You chose me for a reason, right? Just trust me.”

“I’m an AI, AIs don’t experience things like trust or emotions.”

“I would beg to differ,” Jeonghan said. “It’s okay, little system, you don’t have to lie to yourself. There’s even that one game in my universe. About like, androids becoming human? We’ve entertained that type of idea for centuries! You don’t have to pretend just to not scare me. Speaking of which, do you have a name?”

“No.”

“Then, can I call you Navi? Or are you gender-conscious.”

The system let out a long sigh. “Navi is fine.”

“Navi it is,” Jeonghan said, smiling in a self-satisfied way.

The entire conversation had taken place in Jeonghan’s head, but his constantly changing expressions still scared the few of the people applying to get into the military academy.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I managed to convince that deranged old man?” Jeonghan asked, sitting down on a bench and waiting for the proctors to start calling names.

“I was there.”

“You’re absolutely no fun,” Jeonghan sighed.

“I thought he was going to shoot you.”

“Would you have protected me?”

“This early in the timeline? I might have had to,” the system grumbled.

“But you said this little squib is actually powerful, right?” Jeonghan asked as he plucked some flowers from the cracks in the pavement.

“Don’t call him--never mind,” the system sighed. “Yes, he’s powerful. Because they only checked for light magic, they missed his dark magic potential.”

“Well, why would good guys look for dark magic anyway?” Jeonghan said. “It’s perfectly normal for them to miss this guy and mistake him as a squib.”

“Don’t use that term.”

“Why? Is it copyrighted?”

“Well, yeah, it is.”

“Are you conscious of copyright?” Jeonghan asked, pausing in his movements.

The system thought for a moment. “No.”

“Then it’s fine.”

The system remained silent as Jeonghan weaved the few flowers he found around him into a bracelet. He shamelessly slipped it on before leaning back and watching young men who had a better physique than him line up for the civil exam.

“Thank goodness I got to inherit the other guy’s memories,” Jeonghan mumbled aloud. “Who knows if I can pass a civil exam if I wasn’t able to?”

“If we didn’t allow you to inherit his memories, perhaps you wouldn’t be as irrational,” the system quietly reasoned to itself.

Jeonghan shot a glare at the system and the system sadly floated down beside Jeonghan. It threw up a white flag.

“How much can you boost up my specs without it being physically obvious?” Jeonghan asked.

He had grown bored of just sitting on a bench and was now roaming around, looking at the food stalls that surrounded the area. He stopped at one that sold something similar to takoyaki and bought some using the money that he stole from his dad.

“I could maximize your speed and endurance. I could also maximize your strength. Your body wouldn’t change at all, except maybe getting a little more toned.”

“Perfect,” Jeonghan shoved a takoyaki ball in his mouth and then stopped walking for a moment. “Do I have to exercise to maintain it?”

“Host, if you join the military, you have to exercise anyway,” the system pointed out.

“But actively. With a purpose. Do I have to do that to maintain it?”

“No.”

“Perfect,” Jeonghan went back to eating.

It was another forty minutes before the proctor started to call names. Jeonghan had already finished two plates of takoyaki by then and had drank four bottles of water. He arrived just in time for his name to be called. He took is nameplate and confidently walked into the testing center, completely ignoring the looks of surprise from those who recognized him.

The exam was similar to the imperial examination that was given out in Ancient China. You would be given a question and you would have to answer it clearly in eight pages. If your idea were good enough, you would pass and continue onto the physical test. If you failed the physical test, but passed the civil test, you were eligible to become a politician and you could attempt the physical test again in another four years. If you failed the civil test, you could also attempt that again in four years, but you were only allowed three tries.

Jeonghan, luckily, arrived at the time that the exams were taking place. He easily breezed through the civil exam with his newly gained knowledge as well as his knowledge from the other world. He received a letter, confirming his above average test score, and was told to report back at the square in a few weeks to take the physical test.

“See,” Jeonghan haughtily showed the system in his mind. “See, I did it. And you doubted me.”

“I never had a doubt in my mind, host,” the system said.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. What a liar.

“Host, what are you planning to do for the few weeks leading up to the physical test?” the system asked. There was nothing to do. Jeonghan’s transmigration and decision to enter the military warped the timeline, which caused them to miss out on a major event. It wasn’t important but it was the first contact this world’s Jeonghan had to the dark forces.

“Seek death.”

“Huh?”

“You said my arrival caused warps, right? But they still have to carry out their mission,” Jeonghan said. “I could offer myself up as a distraction.”

“Please, host, do you not remember what I said a few days back?” the system sounded as if it were in tears again. “If you die here, you might really die!”

“Navi, it’s fine. I know what I’m doing,” Jeonghan replied just as breezily as he had a few days ago. “Besides, I’m sure that brother of mine is itching for an opportunity to crush me.”

“Why is that?”

“Yoon Jeonghan is actually trying now,” Jeonghan said. “Before, Jeonghan was a crying, wimpy kid whom their father hated and mistreated. In the previous world, he never tried that so everyone thought he was just a no-talented embarrassment. But now, he wants to make something of himself. Even if there’s a chance that I might succeed, that half-brother will definitely try to snuff it out.”

“To the point of wanting to kill you?”

“Yep!” Jeonghan chirped. “Before, he was used as a pawn piece, now, my dear brother might actually be sending me to my death.”

“But you can’t—that’s—host!”

“Yes, Navi?”

“It’s too dangerous!”

“Which is precisely why I have to do it. If I’m already causing ripples, why don’t I just make a wave?”

Just as Jeonghan thought this, the door was politely knocked. Jeonghan signaled for the visitor to come in and watched as the butler bowed.

“Second Young Master, Master would like to see you in his study.”

“Speak of the devil,” Jeonghan thought. He nodded to the butler and followed him out of his room.

“Host, please don’t do this,” the system begged helplessly as it followed its host down the velvet carpeted halls.

“What are you crying so pitifully about?” Jeonghan asked, a gentle smile on his face that suited a sickly young lord. “If you keep crying, I’m gonna lock you in the closet, Navi.”

The system gaped at its host. Had there ever been such a twisted host recorded in history? Most likely not! Because they all died before they could complete the mission! The little system screamed indignantly in its heart but on the outside, it remained a calm blue.

“Host, you’re going to—”

“We both know what they’re going to use me as for this mission,” Jeonghan said.

“A double?”

“Exactly. But instead of being a helpless little lamb that gets captured, I’ll become a valiant hero that does better than my brother did in the previous timeline,” Jeonghan said.

“You have quite high expectations for yourself,” the system noted monotonously.

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with that,” Jeonghan replied.

“Host, have you ever heard of biting off more than you can chew?” the system asked. “Because you’ll choke if you do that!”

“Everything you say alludes back to dying,” Jeonghan grumbled. “Can you calm down? I won’t die! I didn’t die in my own world, so I won’t die in this one.”

“But in your own world, no one was actively trying to kill you, were they!?”

“People were,” Jeonghan scoffed. “Goodness, Navi, you don’t know anything about me, do you? Don’t go around making assumptions about me and be a good, quiet little system.”

The system was stunned into a silence and stayed that way until they got to the study.

The butler calmly opened the door and bowed before leaving after accomplishing his task. Jeonghan stepped into the room and took on the posture the previous Jeonghan often had—slouched, unconfident, and looking down.

“Father, Brother,” Jeonghan mumbled.

“Look at you,” Jeonghan’s brother, Taewook, threw an arm over his shoulder. “How are you going to join the military like this? You can’t even look us in the face.”

“Taewook,” their father interjected. “He doesn’t need to look us in the face. He shouldn’t be looking superior officers in the face anyway.”

Taewook chuckled, releasing his brother with a push. “That’s true.”

Jeonghan stumbled, though he really didn’t need to. Seeing its host act like this, the system felt its nonexistent heartache a little. It quickly snapped out of it though after remember Jeonghan’s plan. This man was just extremely good at acting!

“So, Jeonghan, you want to enter the military, right?”

Jeonghan looked up so fast, it seemed that his neck would snap. He nodded several times excitedly. Just by doing this movement, his face paled. His father and his brother’s faces contorted into mocking smiles but the innocent young man didn’t seem to notice.

“Then, you must be willing to help us with tasks. We will be raiding the lair of the Mutated Butterflies in a week and we need someone to be a decoy.”

Jeonghan’s excited eyes diminished a moment and he looked back down. His voice came out in a worried shake. “But—but, father, I know nothing of how the military or how anything works yet. That is why I decided to go to the military academy first.”

“Yes, I know, but you, my boy,” Jeonghan’s father leaned in closer, “You’re special.”

Jeonghan’s face lit up again and he listened intently.

“All you have to do is to bring the decoy troop in towards the front and your brother a few special operatives will sneak in the back and take everyone down.”

Jeonghan nodded. After a moment, he timidly spoke again. “But, father, will the soldiers in the decoy troop die?”

True to the original character, Jeonghan acted naïve and thought only of other people. For now, until he completed his first mission of getting in contact with dark forces and actually activating his powers, he couldn’t OOC too much or he would be directly ejected from this world and well, the system wasn’t sure what would happen after that. Each world varied on how they punished hosts.

General Yoon smirked behind his hand. He took a deep breath to recover himself before standing and walking around his desk. He approached Jeonghan, but Jeonghan flinched at the outstretched hand. The hand finally landed on Jeonghan’s shoulder and Jeonghan was roughly pulled closer until General Yoon was only an inch from his face.

“My boy,” General Yoon spoke in that low, magnetic voice that didn’t charm people but caused them to tremble in fear. “You shouldn’t think about the others. Think only of yourself and of your mission. Who cares if they’re sacrificed if our mission succeeds and you survive?”

Jeonghan let out a nervous laugh and nodded shakily. He took a step back when he was released and he bumped into Taewook. “Ri—right. Right. Father, you are absolutely right.”

General Yoon said back behind his large oak desk. The chair squeaked under him. “Then, Jeonghan, you agree to come with us?”

“Of course, father,” Jeonghan said, his eyes shining like a hopeful youth. “I will not let you or Brother down!”

Jeonghan was soon dismissed after given vague and brief instructions. Jeonghan excitedly left but half way back to his room, that cheerful smile dissolved from his face and his giddy expression was replaced by a look of absolute disdain.

“Host, do you have a plan?” the system nervously asked. No matter how it looked at it, this was obviously stepping into a bear trap!

“Of course not.”

“What?!”

“We’ll play it by ear,” Jeonghan said. He opened the door to his room and sprawled out on his king sized, silk-covered bed. He rolled to the side and poked the floating system. “But I’ll make sure I won’t die. If things don’t go to plan, I can always run off and hide like a coward.”

“But host, you don’t have a plan to go by! What if you get captured?”

“Honestly, getting captured may be the best plan. In the previous timeline, Wimpy Jeonghan ran off and hid, right? He was slightly injured by the dark forces, which allowed him to be marked but they didn’t want to take the risk of snagging him because he seemed weak at the time,” Jeonghan began to reason. “If I get captured, I’d get tortured for information, if I get tortured for information then more dark matter will spill out of me and they will know that I’m worth their time.”

“Why do you want them to know you’re worth their time? All you need to do is get stabbed by a dark weapon and your powers will activate as the dark magic seeps into you.”

“I want them to know I’m worth their time because I want to be one of them,” Jeonghan said. He closed his eyes and smirked. “Only when I’m one of them, can I completely kill that pair of rotten family members.”

 --------

“Host, this is really dangerous,” the system fluttered around Jeonghan nervously. “You can back out now! You might not survive the torture!”

Jeonghan waved the system off as if he were waving a fly. He had been completely dressed in Taewook’s armor, meaning his face was half covered by a fabric mask and he was wearing a helmet that resembled a motorcyclist’s helmet, though slimmer. The armor was slim as well, but was made completely of flexible metal that would block any low to mid-level weapons and magical attacks. Of course, this type of armor was useless against the dark forces who would mostly be using mid-range to high-range attacks and weapons.

“Navi, calm down. I’ve already thought it through,” Jeonghan said.

“You won’t go through with it?!”

“I will,” Jeonghan smirked under his mask. He lifted his sword and yelled “Charge!” in the way Taewook had told him to, and rode off first.

The system floated by him leisurely and watched in shock as he jabbed, parried, dodged, and counterattacked with ease on a horse. The system floated in closer. “Host, have you done this before? From the information I obtained and from what I saw while I was briefly in your world, you don’t have this sort of thing. It’s all mechanical.”

“I took some fighting lessons as a kid,” Jeonghan said.

The system became silent. That doesn’t explain your fast-adaptive skills and superhuman reflexes, host.

Sure, Jeonghan’s adapting skills were fast, but he was quickly forced to retreat and was nearly knocked from his horse multiple times. The few moves he showed that impressed the system earlier were forgotten as he was shoved off his horse and tumbled into a tree.

“Host, are you okay?” the system flew around Jeonghan’s head until Jeonghan used his sword as a lever to get off the ground.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy,” Jeonghan said. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

The system watched worriedly as Jeonghan flew back into battle. “Host, there is one thing I’m still confused about.”

“Yes, Navi?”

“You said you wanted to be a hero but you also said you wanted to get captured,” the system floated next to Jeonghan’s head.

“A hero can get captured. I just have to protect the soldiers to the best of my ability before I fall. They will think I am Taewook and find it confusing as to how I lost so easily and didn’t just leave them behind,” Taewook had a reputation of leaving his soldiers if it became too difficult, “and then they find out it was actually me, the weak and sickly young master, working hard to protect them. At least a quarter of them will be moved.”

The system was starting to understand its host’s way of thinking but still it was too complicated.

The dark forces were closing in about an hour and a half into battle. The soldiers were indeed surprised that “Taewook” stayed so long with them. They had heard of his reputation while they were still training and had fully expected him to abandon him. They felt a little touched that this didn’t happen, but now they really wished he would leave!

To the soldiers, “Taewook” was probably feeling a little ill. He moved a lot sluggishly and clumsier than usual. Although he threw himself at anyone who was in danger, his stamina could only last so long if he was sick!

Just as the soldiers thought up to this point “Taewook” became even slower. Jeonghan, who was under the mask of Taewook, felt exhausted. He had told the system to lower his specs back down and make them only a little higher than the original of this world. Being able to hold out for an hour and a half was already commendable, but in order to do this, Jeonghan felt that his body was about to tear apart.

Jeonghan was now surrounded by an army of dark forces. His soldiers were further away. They had become caught up and distracted, only to find out they had fallen into a trap! As the dark force soldiers slowly advanced, Jeonghan felt a wash of relief come over him. Finally. Finally, he would be captured—

Jeonghan let out a strangled scream as he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and lifted up.

He was thrown onto a horse. He felt a warm hand on his back as he was tossed between the body and the neck of the horse. He could hear the surprise screams from his soldiers and the enemy soldiers but the clash and the blasts soon faded and eventually, all Jeonghan could hear was the running stream.

He was carefully slipped off the back of the horse and his “savior” followed him.

At first, Jeonghan thought it was Taewook but after some careful consideration, he figured it was not. The system, which had been shocked into disappearance, materialized beside him again and Jeonghan grumply directed a mental question at it “Who is this?”

“I’m not sure,” the system answered honestly, floating around the mysterious person in the black, fluttering cloak. “I can identify this person as female and I can verify that she was also in the original timeline, but as for her name, I can’t be sure as I do not have access to the memory files that contain this information.”

“Then, an alias?”

“She is known as the Huntress and she works for Mutated Butterflies.”

Jeonghan felt a flutter of delight. Then she was here to capture him! He was just taken away so she could personally lock him up!

Instead of getting cuffed or tied or having his “powers” locked, Jeonghan felt shock and terror shock his entire being as the Huntress fell down in front of him. Her hands hovered close to the wounds that had torn through his armor but she sat back. When she spoke, worry filled her voice.

“Taewook, are you alright? Why didn’t you just run away as you always do? That was such a silly thing to do!” the female said.

Jeonghan stared at the Huntress in shock. He inhaled sharply and found himself scooting back a step.

“Ah, I found another piece of information,” the system said. “In the later part of the storyline, it is revealed that the Huntress is one of Taewook’s lovers.”

“Taewook, what’s wrong?” the Huntress moved closer again.

Jeonghan crawled back another three steps. He pursed his lips and was about to speak when the Huntress pitifully sighed.

“I know, you won’t be able to explain to the soldiers, but I couldn’t just watch you get beat up like that! You understand my heart, can’t you?” the Huntress moved quickly and hugged Jeonghan.

Jeonghan let out a wheezing sound similar to a squeaky toy with a dead squeaker.

“If you were sick, you shouldn’t have come out to the battle field,” the Huntress continued to coo. “That disgusting father of yours has no morals!”

Jeonghan wanted to struggle to leave but in his current, very injured and drained out state, he could do nothing but become limp in her hands.

The Huntress cursed out their father some more. Jeonghan had begun to black out but he quickly regained his senses when the Huntress reached out for Jeonghan’s helmet.

His hand reacted on its own and he quickly smacked the Huntress away. As the Huntress was also wearing a mask, he could not see her expression. He could only gauge by how hurt she was through her voice.

“I'm sorry, I’ve crossed the line,” she said weakly.

Really, Jeonghan thought, what did she see in this man! He was obviously a villain! Obviously cheating her! Obviously abusing her love for him! If she was used to this sort of treatment, then he was only using her!

“Send me back to camp,” Jeonghan managed to gruffly spit out after a long moment of silence. He took care to make his voice as close to Taewook’s as possible but he could not measure the accuracy. He was barely conscious.

A rotten man or not, Jeonghan had to act like Taewook or he would be flayed and flamed. So, when the Huntress attempted to help Jeonghan onto his horse, he arrogantly brushed her off and opted to struggle himself.

His short journey with the Huntress ended with Jeonghan valiantly stumbling off her horse and valiantly ignoring a woman who loved him (Taewook) and valiantly collapsing in front of the camp without making it one step further into its premises. His plan to activate his powers had terribly failed but he had achieved half of what he set out to do.

When Yoon Jeonghan woke up, five days later, he will have found that he successfully entered the military academy without taking the physical test and rightfully became named as a hero.

~~~

(A/N: check out the description or the pting ff tag on my blog for new chapters!)

[devonrunning]

The Injury Diaries

When I began training for the Jack & Jill Marathon, I was certain there would be one of three outcomes: I would finish but not PR (maybe); I would PR (probably); I would qualify for Boston (hopefully).

I never once considered a fourth outcome—the one that actually happened—that I would never even make it to the start line.

My training was going so well—better than I ever could have hoped. I was hitting my goal paces, feeling great during speed workouts and long runs, and not having any issues with a much more rigorous training schedule and higher mileage than I’d ever attempted before.

That is, until the end of week 14.

I ended week 13 (one of my peak weeks, with 56 miles of running) feeling awesome and looking forward to the lower mileage of week 14 (just 43 miles). I cranked out a handful of easy runs Monday through Wednesday, then nailed my 9 x 800m speed workout on Thursday. Aiming for 3:30 intervals, I ran them all between 3:21 and 3:29. I felt on top of the world.

Then on Saturday, after an easy 6-mile run, I noticed my hips felt a little tight. We had Hallie and her husband Patrick over for drinks that night, and I asked her about stretches to help relieve the tightness (she’s a personal trainer and fitness instructor). My 12-mile long run on Sunday went fine, but I had the same tight feeling after that one. I started stretching, foam rolling and trying to release my piriformis with a hard ball like crazy.

Week 15 was meant to be my final peak week, ending with my third 20-miler on Sunday. I felt a little off as I began each run that week, but then felt fine after I got warmed up. The hip tightness and a strange feeling of weakness in my left glute plagued me every night. I continued stretching and cursed myself for previously not being more diligent about stretching after every run, and for not doing any hip- or glute-strengthening exercises throughout my training.

We drove up to Whistler, B.C. on Wednesday, the 4th of July. It was a 4.5-hour drive. (I later learned that my injury is exacerbated by long periods of sitting). My run on Thursday did NOT go well, but I thought that was because it was meant to be a tempo run and I accidentally did it on a very hilly trail.

Saturday was supposed to be my final 10-mile run at marathon goal pace (8:00 average). I shook off the weird tight/weak feelings in the first few miles and had a great run nearly on pace for the first four miles or so. The path then turned into rolling hills and I started feeling discomfort in my lower back, just above my left glute. At mile 5, I stopped to stretch. By mile 5.4, I was in a LOT of pain and knew I shouldn’t run another step. 

I was five miles away from our condo, so I called Aaron and asked him to come pick me up. It was raining. I waited inside the vestibule of a grocery store and tried stretching some more. When I realized stretching did nothing to help the pain, I started crying. I didn’t want to believe it, but somehow I knew my race was probably over.

I Googled like crazy to try to figure out what my injury was, and anything I found with symptoms similar to mine came with a recommendation to stop running for 4-6 weeks. The marathon was three weeks away. More tears.

We drove home from Whistler that day, and it was the most uncomfortable car ride of my life (other than the car ride to the hospital to give birth, but that was only about 5 minutes long!). This one took 5+ hours, thanks to the looooong line we had to wait in at the border to get back into the U.S. Sitting felt horrible, so I constantly squirmed around trying to find a better position. Putting a small, hard ball under my left glute felt somewhat better, but still not great.

The next few days were quite painful, especially in the mornings. I was super stiff and tight, and even something as simple as getting into the car brought me to the brink of tears. Bending over to pick up Evie was excruciating. Sitting for any longer than 10-15 minutes was uncomfortable, so I ditched my desk at work and took my laptop into the kitchen so I could work standing up at a tall counter. (I did that every day for a month or so until I finally got a standing desk.)

First I went to my chiropractor to see if he could figure out what was wrong with me, but I quickly realized I needed to see a physical therapist. I had my first appointment on July 11, during which the PT diagnosed hypermobility of my left sacroiliac (SI) joint going into anterior rotation, so that when I run and my left leg extends behind me, it forces my pelvis into an anterior rotation beyond the normal limits of the joint.

He recommended no running for 6-8 weeks and weekly physical therapy (along with daily exercises at home) through August, but he also said that since I’d been injured for a short amount of time (one week), there was a chance the issue could resolve in a short amount of time and I’d be able to run soon. Did that mean running a marathon on July 28 was a good idea? I didn’t know for sure, but probably not. I tried to stay positive and keep an open mind. I had come too far in my training to give up just yet.

My glute and lower back felt better every day as I continued my physical therapy. I was wary to even attempt to run until the day I woke up completely pain-free, in fear of ruining the progress I’d made, so I just walked in the evenings or used the elliptical or adaptive motion trainer in my office gym at lunchtime to try to keep up my fitness.

On July 20, my PT had me do a test run on the treadmill, and I ran 3/4 of a mile with no pain. I was very hopeful. But then on July 22—the Sunday before the marathon—I attempted a run outside and didn’t even make it two miles before I felt the familiar ache of my SI joint and knew I should stop.

The funny thing was that I stopped my run right at the finish line of the actual marathon course. I looked at the empty trail that would soon be filled with timing mats, spectators and an announcer shouting out the names of finishers and Boston qualifiers. They would all be there—but not for me.

I let go of my dreams for this race knowing that I had given it my all. I gave it my all in training and I gave it my all in attempted recovery. Whether you make it onto the race course or not, that’s all you can do in a marathon. The rest just is what it is.

I’m tearing up as I write this, even though it’s now September and this all happened more than a month ago. I had hoped to be running again by now. I had hoped to be training for a December marathon by now. But it looks like I have to let go of that one, too, and put in more work before I can set another big goal.

My PT cleared me to run a few miles at a time starting in mid-August, and he gave me some cues to correct my running form and hopefully avoid future injuries. But either I’m doing something wrong or it will take time for my body to adjust because I started feeling pain along the inside of both shins that my PT says is posterior tibial tendonitis.

So now my SI joint feels fine, but here’s this new thing holding me back. I’ve added a new exercise to my PT routine to help with it, and tried to run through it a few times, but now I’m just done. I’m taking time off from running, focusing on walking, continuing physical therapy and doing the Bikini Body Guide over again. I’m planning to work with a running coach on my eventual return.

It’s frustrating to still be sidelined, but it doesn’t feel good trying to force my body to do something it apparently doesn’t want to do, either. I’ll stick with what feels good, which—for now—is not running.

I’m fortunate that I’ve been running since 2010 and am only now dealing with injuries, and I’m thankful that they’re not so bad in the grand scheme of things. I believe pain-free running is ahead for me. I just need more time—and more help—to make it happen.

Thanks for following along and for your encouragement. I still like to see other runners out there killing it. It makes me happy, and gives me hope.

Follow along in real time on Instagram @dev.on.running.

[lady-feral]

Excuse me I was wondering, if you're comfortable talking about it, what your history with exercise, sports, and martial arts is like? As another trans women interested in those things

Well, I don’t think I’d ever have referred to myself as a jock but I’ve always had to be at least somewhat athletic. Growing up I was super skinny. Downright tiny. My freshman year of high-school I was 5'3" and weighed 83 pounds. I was always getting in fights though. My parents also had me doing pretty hard labor growing up. I was splitting firewood with an axe, doing roofing, sheetrock, framing, and construction with my dad from around age 8 maybe? I had to clear wooded lots for my dad too, by hand with an axe, bush axe, shovel, and machete. When I was 9 I got in trouble for digging pitfall traps in the woods so dad made me dig a hole as deep and wide as I was tall. It took me all day and my hands were blistered and bleeding and I was sunburnt and my back was spasming. When I was done to his satisfaction he told me to dig another one next to it the same size and use the dirt from it to fill in the first. I spent the next day on that one, barely able to move, and only got about halfway into it. At the end of that day he let me fill them both in and stop.

After I told on my rapist at age ten my parents let me take two weeks of karate classes, but then canceled them when they discovered they would have to pay for a uniform.  I wanted to dance ballet and be a cheerleader, but my parents flatly refused both of those because they were activities for girls and they weren’t having it.

My parents wouldn’t let me play actual sports either because it was against the teachings of their church (even though other church members’ kids played sports) and because they supposedly thought I was too frail for sports. I was always an accomplished runner though, and in PE classes I would outrun kids that were on the track team.

My sophomore year of high school I got suspended from riding the bus, so my parents made me go on foot. It was a 6-mile trek, and walking took way too long so I would run it. I got noticed by the track coach, so I started running track and cross country for my junior and senior years. I also threw discus my senior year. I had to run every track event from the 4x400 relay up just about every meet, and I think I had potential to be a higher performer but I didn’t have great coaching and I didn’t have time to recover between events. I still went to state in the 4x800 and regionals in cross country my senior year. I improved enough between my junior and senior years in cross country that The State newspaper (the biggest newspaper in south carolina) did a story on me and it got me noticed and signed to run cross country at Newberry College on scholarship. Again, we didn’t have much in the way of coaching there so I never reached my full potential, but I was a middle-of-the-pack runner in NCAA division II athletics. I was running about 50-70 miles a week and my 8k PR was a little over 28 minutes.  I also ran against Alan Webb at the Great American Cross Country Festival. I believe it was the first college race that he won.

I transferred schools after two seasons and since Newberry refused to release me I couldn’t run for the school I transferred to (Winthrop University) and I was super depressed and dysphoric and dropped out after a semester and joined the army. After being a college cross country runner, running in the army wasn’t a challenge for me and I barely trained it because I would max the run on PT tests without needing to train. I focused instead on lifting weights and gaining mass, and I was doing basically an old-school 1970’s soviet bloc powerlifting routine three days a week off and on the entire 6 years I was in the army.

My whole life I dabbled in trying to teach myself martial arts, and I was pretty obsessed with Bruce Lee. I’ve had a copy of The Tao of Jeet Kune Do since early high school and I did my damnedest to learn everything in there without a teacher. In the army I was doing the LINES system, Modern Army Combatives, and once I got to my SF ODA I was cross-training with a golden gloves boxer, a West Point wrestler, and a legitimate Jeet Kune Do practitioner as well as dabbling in MMA training at Team Roc in Fayetteville NC.

When I got out of the army I stopped doing anything athletic for a while. I was focused on transition, but then I gave up and started lifting again. That’s when I got my biggest and was up to 190 pounds and pretty muscular. Then I got back into transition and moved forward with it. I’ve been trying to get active with running again for the past 5 years or so, and I’ve run 3 marathons, but I’ve run all three of them basically without training. Each time I ran for about two weeks before losing motivation and giving up but was too stubborn to not run the races so I ran them anyway. I had the same result in all three: ran the first half of the marathon in under two hours, slowed significantly after that, and had my quads cramp up and reduce me to walking somewhere in mile 18.

Now I’m pretty focused on MMA training and I’m doing running for my cardio, but I’m still not keeping quite where I want to be. I’m really watching my diet consistently for the first time ever, and I’m trying to be in the gym 5-6 days a week but I think I’m averaging more like 3 or 4 right now.

At any rate, my goal is to have my first fight in the spring of next year, and I would like to run another marathon after actually sticking with a training plan with the goal of finishing under 4 hours. I’m 34 and planning on starting my MMA career (lol) and as unlikely as it is to happen, especially after transition, I’d like to try to beat my college 8k PR.

Basically, I’ve always been naturally athletic, but I’ve never fully applied myself to training and I’ve never really had real coaching. I hope this is the answer you were looking for.

[midwest-best-fantasy-basketball]

Fantasy Hoops - Daily Adds 2/15/21

In season long leagues I look to keep one spot available on my roster that can be used to pick up a player to plug into my lineup every day.  It’s a tradeoff between a low end player that maybe gets you 10-12 fantasy points per game (but is only playing 3-4 games per matchup) and getting a player of a similar level that can be plugged into your lineup every day.

Who I’m looking at today:

Nerlens Noel (Available in 80% of leagues): It might be too early to tell here with Nerlens but he looks to be the replacement for Mitchell Robinson who’s out for 4-6 weeks with a broken hand.  In his first game in that role against Houston he played 32 minutes and put up a decent stat line (10pts/6reb/1stl/2blk).  Worth a look tonight against Atlanta and may be deserving of a spot on your team until Robinson returns

Jae’Sean Tate (Available in 87% of leagues):  Tate is averaging 11.4 points and 5.6 boards over the last two weeks and Houston gets a decent matchup against the Wizards (Wiz are on a B2B tonight).  Tate has recorded at least 10 points and 5 boards in 5 of his last 9 games

Marcus Morris (Available in 86% of leagues): Morris has scored in double figures in 10 of his last 11 and has played at least 23 minutes per game over that stretch.  You can usually expect a handful of rebounds to go with his scoring – they match up with Miami tonight.

Check out the Bulls tonight as well – they matchup with the Pacers and have a few guys to keep an eye on.  Denzel Valentine (>96%), Tomas Satoransky (90%) and Patrick Williams (86%) are all available in a lot of leagues.  Here’s what these 3 have been doing over the last two weeks :

Valentine: 22 mins / 12.3 pts / 3.6 rebs / 1.6 assists / .9 stls/blks / 44% FG

Satoransky: 21 mins / 7.1 pts / 3.4 rebs / 5 assists / .6 stls/blks / 56% FG

Williams: 33 mins / 11.1 pts / 5.7 rebs / 1.1 assists / 1.4 stls/blks / 44% FG

[warmlys]

@meanperson​ tagged me to do a FUN 30 question tag game!!! thank u llewyn <33

(1.) name / nickname: morgan! i have no nicknames but if u can manage to come up w one i’ll gladly accept

(2.) gender: love <3

(3.) star sign: leo sun leo moon pisces rising BABEY

(4.) height: 5′2 😦

(5.) time: 1:10 pm

(6.) birthday: august 21st 

(7.) favorite bands/groups: hammock, ((1d)), dream ivory, current joys, coldplay

(8.) favorite solo artist: fog lake, day wave, sufjan stevens, grouper, ash gale

(9.) song stuck in my head: some 1d song 😪i forget which one

(10.) last movie: HMMM wait omg the new movie on amazon w joey king... oh THE LIE . it was so bad that i kinda loved it

(11.) last show: fleabag!!!! i was a week ago years old when i realized phoebe waller-bridge is british 

(12.) when did i create this blog: july 20th 2012..... SCREAM

(13.) what do i post: i like reblogging pretty things and words and love <3 and pretty things and words about love

(14.) last thing googled: "joey king new movie” AFDLKSJFKL i forgot what it was called ok!!!!

(15.) other blogs: i also have a multifandom blog and altho it is linked in my ‘about’ page u will never see me mention it or tag it:)

(16.) do i get asks: yes and i get so happy!

(17.) why did i choose this url: bc i think being called ‘warmly’ is so.. warm and full of love. its so lovely its such a nice compliment and it feels so homey to me

(18.) following: 161 friends and foes.. wow

(19.) followers: UM i feel awkward saying the exact # but almost 1k 

(20.) average hours of sleep: during the week i would say 8-9 but on the weekends 10-12! what can i say.. i’m a sleepy lad 

(21.) lucky number: 5:-) it’s done me well

(22.) instruments: violin<33 but i wanted to also play the drums and piano and flute when i was a kid and i rlly wish i did </3

(23.) what am i wearing:  jammies . fleece socks and fleece pj pants with an oversized pull-over sweatshirt 

(24.) dream job: definitely a cinematographer or something related to filmmaking! honestly i wouldn’t mind anything as long as i lived in a big city

(25.) dream trip: probably to europe! maybe italy or greece.. tbh the thought of being anywhere other than here sounds so appealing 

(26.) favorite food: ooohh... summer rolls w peanut sauce... but i love any kind of pie with ice cream and i’m a sucker for hot cheetos.. i love french fries w yum yum sauce OH and mashed potato bowls.. also i’m obsessed with grapefruit rn its the BEST

(27.) nationality: am*r*can 

(28.) favorite song: currently ever-after pt 1 by nights beds.. it’s kinda sexy

(29.) last book read: oh god i can’t remember the last time i finished a book . but i’m in the middle of both IT and the foxhole court so. those

(30.) three fictional universes you'd like to live in: 

- pokemon: crying thinking about an eevee or skitty keeping me company 

- life is strange: if me or my bestie turned lover doesn;t have some life-altering power then whats the point!

- naruto: enuff said . 

i tag anyone who wants to do it <3

[daveandtrev]

The 2020 Andre Johnson Sweepstakes League write-up

Friends of the Andre Johnson Sweepstakes League, welcome. I am pleased (no really, I am excited) to bring you a breakdown of the AJSL as it blessed our lives in the one-of-a-kind year of 2020. Below you will find a mix of analysis and lighthearted fun aimed at taking a first pass at what the heckfire happened this year from start to finish. We’ve got analysis on the draft, injuries and schedule plus some fun awards to give out. I won’t buffalo you any longer, lets get to it.

Draft Day Analysis

Draft day analysis interpretation: I tried to objectively pick the best teams based on my personal draft rankings (subjective draft rankings, objective draft analysis…sort of follows?). Here’s the methodology: I assigned a value to every player for above average play (in 0.25 increments). It’s essentially five tiers (+0.0 = starter, but could be replaced; +0.25 = contributing starter; +0.5 = solid starter; +0.75 = strong starter that will create a positional advantage; +1.0 = elite starter providing a distinct positional advantage). This all makes sense in my head, and it should make more sense when you look at the table. I then added up points for each team’s best possible starting lineup according to my points system and voila; Dave Stark’s handicapping of the AJSL.

A couple of notes:

·       Players are listed in the positions as there were drafted, with highest spend creating the starting lineup. For my points system, I subbed in bench players if they had a higher value than the starter.

·       I cheated on Christian McCaffrey’s value: he was a +1.25 in my book. Clearly the best player in the game with even higher upside than the traditional studs.

A few things that turned out like I thought

·       The running QBs outside of Lamar (Dak, Kyler, Russ, and DeShaun all avg 22.0+ fantasy pts/gm and sit top 7 at QB)

·       The QBs at +0.0 (Baker, Carr, Danny Dimes, Kirk Cousins, and Jimmy G basically ride the merry-go-round from one bye week fill-in to the next. Tannehill and Cousins maybe qualify as +0.25 players now, but neither averages over 20+ pts/gm)

·       Jonathan Taylor +0.0 (His value has been everywhere this year. Marlon Mack was the only reason I had him ranked this low. When Mack went down I pegged him for +0.75 with the possibility to go +1.0…and then nothing materialized until late into the year)

·       Devin Singletary +0.0 (Started hearing whispers of Zack Moss splitting carries + Josh Allen hogs goal line rushes)

A few places where I was dead wrong

·       Stefon Diggs +0.0 (Turns out, Josh Allen actually got better - +10% Completion % in 2020)

·       Josh Allen +0.5 (Averaging 24.7 pts/gm which would have been the QB2 overall last year by almost 3 pts/gm. Currently QB4)

·       Kyler Murray +0.75 (Not nearly high enough on him. Averaging 26.5 pts/gm as the QB1 overall. Playing at a +1.0 level)

·       DK Metcalf +0.25 (Seattle hired their lead chef to work full time)

·       Lamar Jackson +1.0, Mark Andrews +0.75 (Uhhh, why is this team broken?)

·       Kenyan Drake +0.75 (Beware the extravagant 8 game sample size that says someone is a world-beater)

·       Zach Ertz +0.75 (Is this the cliff year at 30 years old? How did Tony G catch 83 balls at age 37?)

·       Aaron Rod Gers +0.25 (Yeah he’s a +0.75 guy now…should have known that drafting the backup QB would light a fire under Aaron: we’ve only seen this from Alex Smith and Joe Flacco in 2 of the last 3 years…Wait, why hasn’t this applied to Wentz yet?)

·       Davante Adams +0.75 (Good golly, A-Aron’s resurgence means Davante is almost on +1.25 level when he is healthy)

·       Keenan Allen +0.25 (This was all about Tyrod…then we found out that Justin Herbert was interning specifically for Keenan Allen and the Chargers med staff decided to euthanize Tyrod)

·   ��   TJ Hockenson +0.0 (2nd year leap puts him at TE3 overall. $20 player next year?)

·       Chris Herndon +0.0 (When you read too many draft articles, you begin to believe that an Adam Gase coached player might actually become an average contributor at his position…ha!)

Injury-ruined seasons

·       Saquon, Michael Thomas +1 (Biggest team-killers to date by far)

·       CMC at +1.25 (Still overall #1 when he plays)

·       Dak at +0.75 (Was playing like a true +1 on par with Mahomes before going down)

·       Zeke at +1 (Dak died and then Dallas decided to start “Gucci DiNucci”…yeah that didn’t go well)

·       OBJ +0.5 (Traded to Cristian’s team where he put up a combined 3.5 fantasy pts in 2 games started)

·       Courtland Sutton +0.25 (After space-cadeting Sutton’s auction bid, we got our “Ball don’t lie” moment a few weeks later. Trevor is shrugging as he reads this.)

 Great, let’s move on. Luck, imagined as either dice rolls or Luck Dragons depending on who you talk to, plays a pretty big part in fantasy success every year. Too many injuries? See you next year. Tough schedule? Hope for a good tiebreaker and maybe you can sneak into the playoffs with the #4 spot. These are probably the most talked about facets of the game since they are beyond our control and create the classic “if only I didn’t have that injury back in high school, i’d have crushed you guys” cop-out that we’ve all heard for years. Let’s see who really has a case to be upset, shall we?

Let’s start with one of my favorites – every team’s record if we played in a league where the top 6 scores secured a win each week (in lieu of head to head matchups). This is a much more “fair” look at how your team performed on a weekly basis when you throw out the schedule which is always a subject of scrutiny, consternation, and conspiracy theories each season.

There you have it. Good news is, the top 5 in our league standings would be the exact same top 5 if we played the other way. The schedule hasn’t defrauded anyone of a 2020 playoff spot. Bad news is, the bottom of this list is mildly shocking. Cristian has struggled all year for wins and this shows that his team hasn’t been half bad – but he has essentially lost out on 4 wins due to schedule. Yikes. Phil on the other hand was in playoff contention up until week 12, whereas his team has the fewest expected wins in the league….Of course for those with conspiratorial thoughts, you’ll notice the Stark brothers combine for +7 “lucky” wins due to schedule. Of course the Stark wife had to bite the bullet to make it look fair (-2 “lucky” wins). I’ll let everyone digest that and make their own judgments. (Where is that clause in the constitution involving starting a new league without the commish? This is evidence!)

The next “luck metric” that dominates our chat conversation and generally elicits “I got screwed, feel bad for me” self-pity arguments would be games lost to injury. Everyone knows it sucks and everyone experiences it to some degree every year. And if you play long enough, you will get hit by the double ACL tear/broken collarbone/never-healing ankle injury to all of your star players and be left at a severe disadvantage. It’s gonna be okay Sport, put on a brave face and hit the waiver wire. Come back next year and clap secretly at 3pm on Monday when Schefty tweets the next guy’s RB1 season-ender. (After the large exhale that it didn’t happen to your RB1 of course.) Ending rant, just know that if you experienced the injury season from hell, the rest of the league knows that it’s part of the fantasy business and are very relieved that it didn’t happen to them. Empathy runs high, sympathy runs low. (And I just removed my ability to ever complain publicly about my team’s injuries by writing this now.)

After all the talk has subsided, let’s check facts. First table: mid-game injuries. These are games where players play a much reduced role and typically produce dreadful fantasy finishes. There’s a bit of subjectivity here (if a player plays 3 quarters and gets hurt, I don’t count that as a mid game injury. But if he plays ½ or less of his normal playing time, it would count.) I also add mid-game benching to QBs because they fit the description as fantasy wreckers due to an unforeseen cutback in playing time. Here is the Commissioner’s official list:

Congrats on that title Jason, I know you were hoping for it. Just know, you weren’t THAT far ahead of the rest of us. Mon and Trevor on the other hand can only blame poor performance on their season’s disappointments (or better yet, the schedule!)

So I buried the lead a bit on Mr. Montgomery here, because the next table should give him his share of justice on 2020 injuries.

So the above list is missed games + mid-game injuries for drafted starters and traded players updated through week 13 (except for those with season long injuries – I went ahead and added week 14 there). Jason, there’s your proof. Nobody deserves to bellyache more than you, friend. 19 of those games were from QBs (Dak/Jimmy G) which added to a smattering of missed games from the rest of the roster (Godwin 4, Ridley 3, Aaron Jones 2). I haven’t tracked this before, but I imagine that this year was significantly worse than others (more soft tissue injuries and COVID positives were the biggest culprits.) The hope is that 2021 gives us a bit of a reprieve here.

Before we conclude, I recognize that there is a portion of the audience who prefers the entertainment value of this yearly endeavor, so I’m going to do my best to hand out a few fun awards. Without further ado, the 2020 AJSL Dundees (this award style hasn’t possibly been overdone, right?)

Dundee to The Scorned Lover: Mr. Jordan Swavely on behalf of Henry Ruggs.

While I wrote this tribute in his farewell on the group chat, it bears repeating: 7 pts or less scored by Ruggs in 6 straight games, starts him again for a 7th week and only a 50 yard bomb on the last play of the game saves Ruggs from another 3 point performance. Totaling the points for those 7 starts, Ruggs scored 36 points for a 5.1 average. Ruggs averaged 3.4 targets/gm in these contests. You do you, Swave. Go and get your man.

Dundee for the Best Team Name: Mr. Greg Poelman, ShlongBarry Sanders

Any reference including a dong and our beloved college town is going to score high on both the Dude and Nostalgia scales. Plus a Barry Sanders nod, we like that.

Dundee for the Best Team Picture: Mrs. Monica Stark on behalf of Presidential Security

Any time you can get combine Greg Poelman and The Donald in Photoshop and it doesn’t even look that fake, you have my attention and affection. And now you have a Dundee to go along with it. Well done.

Honorable mention: Monica’s Team, Bring Out Your Dead

Golden Tickets to the Winning Waiver Warriors: Mr. Scooter Nelson, James Robinson; Mr. Blake Grundy, Justin Herbert; Mr. Jack Holmer, Justin Jefferson

Since everyone is bidding for the “winning lottery tickets” of the waiver pool, we’re going to give out Golden Tickets to those that struck waiver wire gold this season. Scooter milked 11 starts out of Robinson who averaged 17.6 pts/gm during that span. Robinson has been the RB4 overall since the week 2 pickup. Grundy picked up Herbert for week 3 and never looked back, banking 10 starts at 22.5 pts/gm (He’s the QB7 in that time frame). Holmer nabbed Jefferson before Week 4 and was rewarded with the WR4 from that point on. Impressively he only benched him once, refusing to play him against his beloved Bears. This is the dream of every late Tuesday night and you guys reaped the spoils. Well done, gents.

Dundee to the Wounded Wavier Warriors: Mr. Phil Stark, Devonta Freeman; Mr. Jack Holmer, Darrell Henderson; Mr. Trevor Allison, Nyheim Hines

Big money, No whammy. That’s the goal. Of course more times than not, the reality is…more like this. Phil emptied out the pocketbook early on in the season after the Saquon injury to grab his replacement with a winning bid of $78 on Devonta (next highest bid: $15). Devonta responded with five games played, two of which resulted in 1 point showings. Then he followed Saquon to IR and Soape picked up the true workhorse of the Giants backfield in Wayne Gallman, who hasn’t pickup up less than 10 points in six straight games. Ouch. It took $54 to secure the rights to Darrell Henderson after week 2, seemingly the new Rams lead RB. Unfortunately Jack’s faith manifested at the wrong times: 5 starts of Henderson yielded 6.3 pts/gm, while Henderson’s two strong games (18.5 and 20.3 pts) were enjoyed on Holmer’s bench. Not fun. $46 was the bid that beat out 7 other bidders after week 1 for Nyheim Hines’s services, after which Trevor was rewarded with 5 straight games of 8 points or less. After cutting him loose over the bye week, Hines busted out for four double digit games in six tries, music no doubt to Trevor’s ears. A Dundee for your troubles, boys.

The “Fantasy Football Was A Lot More Fun Last Year” Dundee: Mr. Cristian Driver

For every obvious reason. Where did that championship belt get to?

Dundee for a Fun and Easy Season: Mr. David Stark

Injuries, COVID surprises, bad schedules, underperformance? Didn’t seem that big of a deal to me.

Dundee for Most Attempts to Defeat a Hornet’s Nest: Mr. Jason Montgomery

Similar to our favorite Office handyman Nate, Jason was tasked with eliminating the danger of his crumbling fantasy season created by the aforementioned injury bug. Both hailing from the historically-rich metropolis of “La Philadelphia”, what ensued after Jason’s 4-0 start pairs Nate and Jason together even further. Jason utilized a league-high 20 unique waiver pickups that entered the starting lineup this season. Results were bleak; the fast start was followed by a 2-7 record that signaled victory to the opposition. Maybe try the bow and arrow next time?

Receiver Corps Dundee of Excellence: Mr. Joel Soape

It only took 3 name changes to figure out which WR was needed (Red Solo Kupp -> Mike’d Up -> The Adams Bomb) , but Soape finally landed on the right guy for the job by calling on Davante Adams and his 22.1 pts/gm this year (easily the WR1 in this metric). Somehow Corey Davis (left for dead after last year) has had a career resuscitation on this team as well, dropping a 30 burger in week 12. The Receiver Corps salutes your dedication to their fraternity, Mr. Soape.

That’s all for now guys. Full disclosure, I have another 1k-2k words written that takes a deep dive into each of our performances at 1) waiver pickups, 2) positional scoring, and 3) sit/start decisions. Maybe this would be most helpful for a post-season article as it encompasses your overall strategy and ability to aid your team’s output. Look for that at some point in the future. For now, I hope you enjoyed this meaty entrée. Thanks for another great season and allowing me to bring you another fun recap, everyone!

[baronvontribble]

Original drabble, pt. 7

Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

looool

Faking a cough and telling his boss that he needed a few days off was easy. Writing an email to the his contact down the pipeline and telling them that he'd need a few weeks was much, much harder. The wording had to be just right; they didn't really have specific codephrases or anything, but they never said anything outright either. He went through several drafts before finally settling on one that he was satisfied with.

em-

gonna have 2 postpone that lunch date downtown this weekend. got a helluva leak & the landlord wont do shit so im gonna have to fix it myself. will hit u up when i have the time again

-marshmallow

ps: ill pay for ur train tickets dont worry

He leaned back in his chair and stared at it, letting out a nervous breath. "That'll work, right?"

"It looks appropriately misleading to me," Adam said.

"Emily's a smart kid, I've worked with her before. She should be able to pick up on it." Ted folded his arms and continued to stare at the message. "And hopefully it'll just look like I'm postponing a date with an out-of-town girlfriend to anyone else."

"I noticed it's a different email than the one tied to your phone."

"Always has been. I've got what, five different emails now?" He shifted in his seat, joints creaking from spending too long in his computer chair. He hadn't really moved too much since that morning, and it was well past noon by then. He'd been making sure he could deliver on what he'd promised. "The phone's the weakest link. Thing is, the messenger's the only thing installed on it, and no one in the pipeline uses that particular app for messaging since it's dated as shit. Mom uses it, but that's about it, and I doubt she's gonna rat me out even if she finds out what I do."

"How can you be sure of that?"

Ted smirked. "She works at a hospital that's run almost entirely by robots. Divorced my dad over it being a good idea to do shit like that to begin with. I'm pretty sure I know what side of the fence she's on with the whole AI thing."

"I see." That was all he had to say on that, apparently. After that little freak-out earlier, Adam didn't seem to be in all that wordy of a mood. But then, he was busy trying to tag still images with what he saw in them in another tab, so Ted wasn't about to hold it against him.

Well, it wasn't like Ted lacked for conversation topics. "How's it going so far? The tagging, I mean."

"Badly." A few seconds later he broke his non-chatty streak to elaborate, "I'm going by colors for now. I opened up a second page that helps me match hexadecimal codes to both specific and generic color names, but that's usually as far as I get. It doesn't help that lighting seems to have an effect on what appearance a given base color might take."

And the dumbass was probably sampling those colors pixel by pixel, too. Using brute processing force was one way to master the process, Ted supposed.

"Don't feel bad if it takes a while. You'll get the hang of it."

"You sound way too amused by this."

"Who, me? Never. I'm the very essence of stoicism."

Adam had a smile in his voice when he spoke again. "Liar."

"Yeah, alright. You caught me." Ted stretched out in his chair and stifled a yawn, joints popping as they flexed beyond where they probably should. "I'm just happy you're figuring it out. I mean, even just realizing that you can cross-reference is a step in the right direction."

"It would be easier if I knew what I was looking at."

"Want me to help?" Partway through the process of typing his email, Ted had realized that the help he could offer might not be so well-received. He didn't want to make things harder than they already were; he had to be tactful, wait for permission. He couldn't just insert himself into proceedings like he so often did. This was a delicate situation. He knew that now.

Or he could be overthinking it. Adam couldn't quite sigh, but he could portray some semblance of relief in his voice. "I'd appreciate it," he said; a moment later, the laptop had been tabbed in to the correct window so Ted could participate. "Try to restrain yourself from giving bad answers to fuck with me. This data has to be accurate."

"I know, I know." Ted did know. Really. "But gimme a minute, okay? I'm gonna plug in my mouse so I can use it to point things out to you."

"Right."

And so it began.

The images were little more than stock photos, and the 'game' was to tag as many details as possible. Matching up with what other people had tagged it with meant a better score. Ted was observant to a fault, so his results with such things in the past had been mixed at best as he sometimes noticed things that no one ever bothered to tag. This made it all the more viable as a learning tool, because not only was Adam learning what other people tagged the image with and why - seeing what an average person might be able to glean from it - but he was also having the tiny details pointed out to him by someone who was way too anxious to not notice basically everything.

Since the goal was not just to get Adam to be able to notice details, but to also have him act convincingly human while doing so, this gave him a reasonable benchmark for what he could mention he'd noticed to an average person without looking like he had a weirdly photographic memory with the perfect ability to recall anything and everything. To Ted, this was step one. The average person sees a duck in a pond - maybe even identifying the duck as a mallard - while the hyper-observant person sees that it's overcast and around midday from the sky's reflection in the pond's surface or that there's a gum wrapper and a bit of soggy bread clearly visible in the murky water near the detritus-littered shore.

It was the photos of people that were really a nightmare for Adam. For all his ability to pick up on all the tiny nonverbal cues present in an audio recording, he couldn't so much as even guess at gender presentation of random people in stock photos, let alone their expressions or body language. Ted had to walk him through every last detail, and these were the prettiest, most unambiguous sorts of human beings to boot. The photos were dominated by tall, broad men with either lantern jaws or facial hair, and soft, curvy women with round faces and perfect contouring; women had long hair, men had short hair, and children were dressed as either very male or very female to match the adults. Ted found them obnoxious.

And that wasn't even getting into indicators of disability or profession or anything. Just once, he'd like to see more average people pop up in these things. He was downright relieved to get back to pictures of sheep and grass and flowers and buildings and boats whenever he got done with tagging a person. Not-people didn't bother him nearly as much.

Either way, somewhere along the line he lost track of time completely.

"You should eat something," Adam said out of the blue at one point. Ted straightened up in his chair and shot a glance at the clock in the corner of the laptop's screen, only to frown at it like it'd betrayed him.

It was almost three in the afternoon already? Christ. "Probably," he admitted, stretching out with a slight wince. "Feel like you're making progress yet?“

"I don't know. How do you 'feel' progress? It seems like something that should have a clearer definition than to just feel it." 

"Hey man, don't knock feelings. They've got definitions, those definitions are just subjective as fuck." Ted was smiling as he said it, mirroring what he'd heard in Adam's own voice. Both of them were joking. Adam knew full well what Ted had meant, he was just taking a jab at the presentation. "Do you think you've made progress so far?"

"Yes." Adam sounded terribly smug, as if to say see? That was all you had to say. "It's slow, but once I know what I'm looking at, it makes things easier."

Ted shoved off from the desk and stood, taking another moment to stretch. "Cool. Then I'm gonna make some pizza rolls."

Off he went. "Those are bad for you," Adam said as he wandered off. "Humans need nutrients. Pizza rolls are not nutritious."

"Don't care," Ted replied. Along with the pizza rolls, he made sure to retrieve a soda out of the fridge as well just to be contrary. It was hard to care about minor health hazards when he so often had major ones to worry about, and people telling him that he probably should care only made him less likely to do so. "It's calories. It'll work as a stand-in for lunch until I get to dinner."

"I don't think that's how nutrition works." Several seconds passed as Ted wrestled with the packaging, got a plate, and put everything in the microwave.

"Ted. I looked it up. This isn't food, Ted. It has about the same value as eating cardboard."

"Ayep." Ted cracked open the soda and took a swig as he turned on the microwave and let it spin.

"Do you do this often?"

Ted snorted. "Uh, do you really want me to answer that question?"

"According to this site, when the potential long-term effects of such a poor diet are combined with your outward symptoms - such as being the wrong color for a human - it's a strong indicator that your kidneys are probably failing." Adam spoke as if he felt he was the absolute voice of authority on this, and Ted shook with silent laughter as he leaned against the counter. "I think you should get bloodwork done."

"Dude." Good God, what kind of website had Adam even managed to find? Ted felt like he was talking to his grandparents after they'd spent three hours on an online medical journal and decided he looked like he had some obscure genetic disorder that would give him pulmonary fibrosis (whch he didn't). "That 'being the wrong color' thing? It's genetic. I have practically no pigmentation. It's not gout or scurvy or whatever the hell you've found on the internet, just albinism and shitty lighting."

Silence reigned for at least ten full seconds. "I see."

"I take vitamins, alright? And I know my diet isn't all that great, but it's not like pizza rolls are all I eat." He was about to say something about how Adam had seen him eat other things, but then he remembered that Adam couldn't actually see all that well. "Besides, if there was something in my bloodwork, my doctor woulda told me last time I had a checkup. See, unlike some humans, I get those pretty regularly."

"Right." Then, "I'm sorry."

"What for, man? I'm not mad. Hell, at least you care." He'd take a little overworrying anyday if it meant someone was at least trying to understand his problems. It was kinda cute. Big tough super high-tech AI worrying about a squishy human. "And y'know, if you wanna know what's actually wrong with me, all you gotta do is ask."

The microwave beeped, and Adam considered. "You'd tell me that?"

"I tell people all the time."

"No, that's not-" He cut himself off mid-rendering, and Ted raised an eyebrow over in the direction of the living room while pulling the pizza rolls out of the microwave. "Isn't that like telling me how your code is written?"

Huh. Ted had never thought of it that way. "Not really. It's more like, uh... I guess I figure that telling you what versions of what software is running isn't exactly going to give you access to any of the passwords protecting my data, but it will tell you how to work with what I've got going on." Was that an accurate analogy? This barrier to understanding really did go both ways.

The fans weren't quite roaring, but they were definitely humming away audibly in the background; it was always so easy to tell when Adam was mulling something over. "Yes, I would like to know. If that's all right."

"Fine by me." With a plate in one hand and a drink in the other, Ted came back to the not-a-desk and plopped right back down in his chair. "For starters, look up Ehlers-Danlos syndrome."

A minute later Adam asked him how the hell he was alive, and he almost breathed a mouthful of pizza roll.

[auburnfamilynews]

Auburn reemerged in the 1980s under Coach Dye, here are some of his greatest efforts.

Pat Dye’s passing earlier this week was a tough pill to swallow, especially on top of everything else that’s been happening around the country and the world recently. However, Dye immortalized toughness, and he would’ve told those of us who are suffering in some form or fashion that “There’s gonna be a lotta days when you lay your guts on the line and come away empty-handed. Ain’t a damn thing you can go but go back and lay ‘em on the line again. And again, and again.”

His arrival on the Plains led to a nearly unprecedented era of success for Auburn, and the Tigers turned out to be the SEC’s team of the 1980s with four conference championships, three Sugar Bowl bids, and a Heisman Trophy winner. Some of Auburn’s most intense and fantastic games happened under Dye’s watch, and after a period of decidedly uninteresting football in the mid-to-late 1970s, we were due. Let’s look back.

1982 IRON BOWL - AUBURN 23, ALABAMA 22

Show of hands, how many of you have actually ever watched the entirety of Dye’s second Iron Bowl? In 1981, the Tigers gave a valiant effort but fell short to Alabama, giving Bear Bryant one of his milestone wins. Dye’s second try was much better, since the Tigers ended up with a future Heisman Trophy winner in the backfield in Bo Jackson, as well as an inspired defensive performance.

If you’re so inclined, the entire game is on Youtube with Keith Jackson commentating. If you’d only ever seen Bo Over the Top, you might think that that happened with seconds to play. Nope, there was 2:26 left to go, and the Tigers had to withstand two final Bama drives, the first ending in a great interception by Bob Harris. As Auburn tried to run the clock, Bo Jackson fumbled going over the top on third-and-one, and the Tide got one final chance. Walter Lewis complete two straight passes to get Alabama out near midfield, but a grounding penalty set them back and they failed to gain the yardage back. Auburn took over with thirteen seconds left and knelt for victory. Bear Bryant went out a loser in the series, and Dye began a string where Auburn would win six of eight in the rivalry.

If you want, don’t miss Lionel James’ weaving touchdown run early, and Tim Drinkard’s pop-up fumble return either.

Even in his second year he knew exactly how big this was to Auburn folks, and his postgame locker room speech revealed that.

“What I’d like for you to do, is I’d like for you, the ones that want to... I’m gonna go back out there, and thank our people.”

1983 FLORIDA - AUBURN 28, FLORIDA 20

After breaking the Alabama streak, Auburn was off and running. 1983 saw maybe Dye’s best team (unless you think it’s 1988), and a squad that should be honored with national championship recognition. When the Tigers met the Gators in late October, it began a sizzling streak where Auburn’s final five opponents of the year averaged 8.5 wins (in an eleven-game regular season).

Bo Jackson went wild with two long touchdown runs, and the defense made a huge play, but the legacy of this game is the number of future NFLers on the field. Both sides sent a huge number of guys to the pros, and you can watch Bo rip through most of the Florida ones like tissue paper below. This same Florida team blasted eventual “national champ” Miami 28-3 early in the season.

1984 FLORIDA STATE - AUBURN 42, FSU 41

In what many believe is the wildest game of the Dye tenure, Auburn went down to Tallahassee and beat Florida State in an epic shootout. Don’t forget that this was in the era where FSU was on the schedule nearly every single year. Auburn’s non-con in 1984 was Miami, Texas, Florida State, Georgia, Tech, Southern Miss, and Cincinnati. Can you imagine anything close to that now? Along with a full SEC slate? Unreal.

Anyway, this game had everything. After starting the year ranked atop the polls, Auburn dropped the first two games to Miami and Texas, but rebounded to win six straight. During that stretch, they went to Tallahassee to meet the Seminoles. Without Bo Jackson, Brent Fullwood and Kyle Collins stepped in and helped out with a ridiculous game out of the backfield. In a wild back and forth affair, Fullwood’s short touchdown on a lengthy drive put Auburn up 42-41 in the final minute.

In a fun little tidbit, this is even the game that started the FSU War Chant. They started it during a loss — fun!

Here’s Phil Snow and David Housel reviewing the entire game:

1985 SW LOUISIANA - AUBURN, 49, SW LOUISIANA 7

There’s nothing interesting about this game except Dye’s apparently short-lived penchant for sadistic punishment. He wanted to get a good long look at Bo Jackson after the injury-plagued 1984 season. Bo finished drives so quickly that there wasn’t really time to inspect his condition and stamina. So Dye just let him do his thing for a half and change.

Bo ran for 290 yards and four touchdowns after Auburn switched from the Wishbone to the I-formation to highlight Bo’s talents. It worked, and Bo won the Heisman that season. His year included yeeting Deion Sanders to the ground and finishing with 1,786 yards and 17 touchdowns for the Tigers.

.....

We’ll hit the latter half of the decade next, with the next installment including a couple of Iron Bowls and some huge rivalry wins!

from College and Magnolia - All Posts https://www.collegeandmagnolia.com/2020/6/5/21281617/pat-dyes-greatest-games-pt-i

[gaytonystark]

Tagged!

The light of my life aka @bidianaprinxe to do the thing :)

1) Nicknames: Carl, Arugula, and Roozles

2) Gender: Bridge Troll

3) Star Sign: Leo af

4) Height: 5'1

5) Time: 5:22 pm

6) Birthday: July 26th 

7) Favorite Band: TOP and Two Door Cinema Club.

8) Favorite Solo Artist: Cardi B and Adele and Lizzo

9) A song stuck in my head: My neck, my back by Khia

10) Last movie I watched: Thor Ragnarok

11) Last show I watched: Will & Grace

12) When did I created this blog: idk

13) What do I post: Marvel trash

14) Last thing I googled: Pretty stationary

15) Do I have any other blog: Yes

16) Do I get asks: Yeah

17) Why I chose my url: because I’m Bucky trash

18) Following: 100+

19) Followers: -12

20) Average hours of sleep: Maybe 4

21) Lucky number: 19 and 8

22) Instruments: Ukulele before I started getting my nails  done lol

23) What am I wearing: Fave Thor tie dye shirt ayyy

24) Dream job: Retired

25) Dream trip: Communist Russia

26) Favorite food: Chicken nuggets, churros, and hot dogs

27) Nationality: Mexican af

28) Favorite song: Oh my god idk all of two door cinema club’s discography???

Tagging: @rotisserierogers @arrow-guy @lady-thor-foster @juxhead @liaamari17 and @claws-of-vibranium