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cameronspecial · 1 year ago

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Hello! If it’s not too much to request, could you please write an Anthony x Reader piece wherein the reader (she/her or she/they) is rather motherly and bubbly; who’s his childhood friend and has a (requited, but not yet admitted) crush on him? The reader often stays home because of a sickly disposition and so has taken to lightening up the place for the others (i.e. helping George with research by going on errands for him, cleaning when they’re gone, organizing their equipment, bookmarking books they leave open when they fall asleep, comforting Lucy on the days she gets overwhelmed, leaving encouraging notes where they might need it, etc.)

The Mother of 35 Portland Row (Anthony Lockwood x Reader)

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Pronouns: She/Her

Y/N Y/L/N has always been motherly, even from the ripe age of 5. But instead of tending to fake babies, she was taking care of baby Lockwood. Even though she was a year younger than him, she could still be seen running after him to get him to put on his jumper or scolding him when he tried a reckless stunt. As they grew, multiple things grew with them. Their family, their skills and their romantic feelings. Lockwood always thought that Y/N had a crush on him as he does for her because of how she takes care of him, but when she started to care for George in the same way, it caused him to question himself. However, he couldn’t be more wrong.

———

George had been at the kitchen table all day doing research for their latest case. Y/N knew he had not eaten all day because when she came back from her errands, the table was covered in books and not a single used plate could be seen on the surface. She also knew he must have stayed up late: he had fallen asleep with his head on a book. Y/N flicks in the kettle on and starts to assemble George’s favourite sandwich. Once the water finishes, she pours water into George’s mug with a tea bag. She places both dishes in front of the boy before taking the book gently out from under him and placing a bookmark on the open page. She gently shakes the boy awake and points towards the food. “Please eat. You need the nutrients,” she urges in a whisper. He gently stirs and obeys her order.

———

Lucy bursts through the front door, in a hurry to get to the art class she volunteers to teach. She had forgotten to get her stuff ready and knowing herself, it would take her forever to find everything. Her movement towards the stairs is paused by Y/N walking out of the family room with Lucy’s art bag in hand. “I also put some snacks in there in case you get hungry. And I already sent the cassette for Norrie through the post,” she informs the overwhelmed girl. Lucy’s shoulders drop in relief and goes to give the other girl a hug. “Thank you tons! You are a lifesaver, Y/N/N,” Lucy praises before giving Y/N a quick kiss on the cheek and leaving.

———

Y/N noticed Lockwood’s sour mood the past few days. She knew he had been stressed about the paperwork he needed to do for the business. Lockwood sits down to start his work when he notices most of it was done already and it was just waiting for his signature. He gets to the last page and notices a sticky note that says ‘Thought I would help you out a little. Now, go read one of the new magazines I got for you, Handsome.’ Lockwood cheeks redden at the nickname.

Y/N sits in her favourite armchair in the library, reading a book. She looks up at him and smiles. “Y/N/N, thank you. But why do you always help us out?” Lockwood questions as he sits down. “I like being helpful and I guess I just got used to it since we were little,” she responds. Lockwood smiles at the memory of that, “Yeah, I always thought that you liked me because of that.” “Are you kidding? Lockwood, I love you. Why do you think I’d chase after you with your jumper? My mom was always doing that for my dad and I thought that’s what you do for the people you love,” Y/N confesses, bookmarking her book. Lockwood couldn’t believe his ears. He is overjoyed by the news. He approaches the girl and sits beside the girl. He cups her cheek and looks into Y/N’s eyes. She nods her head, understanding what he is asking. He leans in and their lips meet in the middle. The kissing last for a few seconds until Lockwood pulls away. The two stare into each other’s eyes with grins on their faces.

“I love you.”

“I love you too."

#lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood oneshot #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood netflix #renew lockwood and co #lockwood

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somethingsteff · 9 months ago

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15 questions for 15 friends

Thanks @fangeek-girl for the tag!

1. Are you named after anyone?

No, but my parents had an interesting way of naming my sister and me. If we were boys my mom got to name is, girls and my dad got to name us.

2. When was the last time you cried?

A couple days ago, I think. I cry a lot. 😅

3. Do you have kids?

Only of the animal variety! I actually got surgically sterilized last year because I am very happy in my role as aunt and cat mom. 💖

4. What sports do you play/ have you played?

If knitting were a professional sport I'd be an Olympian.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Alllllll the timeeeee.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

How nice they are. Not in the way that they might be mean, but that they might be too nice. If someone's too nice I don't trust them.

7. What's your eye colour?

Green!

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Always a happy ending! I actually can't tolerate scary movies at all.

9. Any talents?

I'm a very good knitter! And I think I'm an alright crocheter, but that's a much newer endeavor for me.

10. Where were you born?

Oregon, USA, born and bred!

11. What are your hobbies?

Knitting, crocheting, and a little bit of writing!

12. Do you have any pets?

I have two kitty cats! A ginger tabby boy named Theo and a secret calico (she looks like a tortie, but she's got a white bikini on her tummy, a white chin, and white ankle socks) girl named Arya.

13. How tall are you?

5' 6" (and a half 😂)

14. Favourite subject in school?

Always the STEM (science, technology, engineering, math) classes! Though I'm also a MAJOR supporter of adding the arts in that abbreviation to make it STEAM, because nurturing the arts is incredibly important for societal and personal progression and development.

15. Dream job?

To retire and volunteer at OMSI (the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry). If you're ever in Portland, Oregon, you NEED to go to OMSI. It's the best.

No pressure tags (and sorry if you've already been tagged or done this, I can't keep track of things like this) @yourfavoritefridge, @kingdomvel, @willameena, @grapenehifics, @miserableandmagical94, @amadwinter, @quigonsjeans, @heretolurkandnothingmore, @aigoos, @mischievouschan4, @to-proudly-go, @wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart, @tideswept , @kato-neimoidia , @ladylucksrogue

And anyone else who sees this and wants to join (especially if you've never done one of these before!) 💖

#ask game #15 questions for 15 friends

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song-writer-melo-wrath · 7 months ago

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Silly Game Time: Would you rather spend the day at an art museum or a history museum or a science museum? Ever been to one that really impressed you?

You know, I was taken to a lot of museums as a kid. And I was usually bored with them-

-because I had undiagnosed ADHD and autism, and was, y'know, a KID. Also because a lot of the times I visited museums were during summer, so I was too distracted by “it is so so so hot out there” to really enjoy things. I hadn't yet taken the art classes that would make me appreciate art for what it is. Poetry and music were more my jam-

-that said, there were a few exceptions.

The Smithsonian American Art Museum

The Laika exhibit at the Portland Art Museum

The Smithsonian Museum of Natural History

OMSI

There were also some tours that I can't quite remember the names of, but knew I enjoyed. One was a salmon farm and dam area, another displayed minerals, another was focused on things like tsunamis and whirlpools. It may give some context that I live in the Pacific Northwest.

OMSI in particular is very memorable since a lot of my visits were just me n my Dad. They had a videogame-themed exhibit once that made my Dad go, “oh, Athy has to see this”. Another time was with my bestie @octopus-in-disguise , so yeah, good times all around.

As for what I'd want to visit now though, hmmm. I think as long as it's not one I've seen before, art museum would be my choice. Especially if it displays Van Gogh's work. His art has always spoken to me. Maybe it's the colours and atmosphere of it, maybe it's knowing his story and feeling inherently bittersweet about “your life ended before you could know how deeply your work would be loved” when it comes to him. Shout out to that one Doctor Who episode.

#athy rambles #Silly Game Time #museum #art history #culture #science #smithsonian #historical art

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balancingtheforce · 9 months ago

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I was tagged by @femmefighter ! And how sweet is that!! Let’s get to it.

QUESTIONS FOR 15 PALS!

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?: No, I’m not named after anyone which I’m glad for!

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?: I cried last week, I have big feelings I don’t always know what to do with. You know how it is.

DO YOU HAVE KIDS?: No, I don’t. But I would like to adopt or foster one day. That’s a big goal of mine.

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/ HAVE YOU PLAYED?: I love badminton a lot! Tennis too. I am not a coordinated person so I enjoy playing with all my limbs in any attempt to actually hit something.

DO YOU USE SARCASM?: I do, but I won’t say I use it well! I just like to give myself a good laugh.

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?: For me, I’m certainly a body language reader, so when we first meet, I’m trying to gauge you based on that and tone of voice to try and understand your mood and feelings. Also, I’m listening to your laugh because I love hearing other people laugh.

WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOR?: Hazel.

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?: I won’t say no to a happy ending but I do love a scary movie. Mainly a psychological thriller. I want to be tormented and have the movie end with me saying “ what the fuck did I just watch?”.

ANY TALENTS?: “Talents” is quite a strong word, I don’t know if I’m per se talented in anything, I just enjoy certain activities. To me, the word “talented” means you’ve achieved a certain high skill level, and that’s too much to me haha

WHERE WERE YOU BORN?: Portland, Oregon here in the States.

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?: I enjoy woodworking, painting and other half assed things I’ve picked up over the years that semi resemble some sort of craft. I have a billion and one ideas and about half as many projects to complete because I have to try everything and struggle to finish one of them. I love dabbling in anything that you can do with your hands and looks something like art. Also, I love collecting Star Wars toys because I’m a giant child. ‘99 was the best year ♥️

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?: I don’t have any pets of my own currently, no. But I’ve always lived and grown up with cats, and I love them a lot. I had a pug once and he was always so fun.

HOW TALL ARE YOU?: 5’5.

FAVORITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?: I had a lot, but for sure marine biology. Such a fantastic class and had some great opportunities thereafter. Very involved and hands on and living off the Puget Sound just made it that much better. I took four years of woodshop then as well, and that had a massive impact on me too that I won’t soon forget. I did break two fingers then and that was quite something!

DREAM JOB?: I’m one of those people that is constantly changing their “dream job”. Maybe that’s only natural as we get older, I don’t know! Once it was being a film editor, then it was a marine biologist, then I wanted to be a furniture designer and maker, then I thought I’d be a school counselor. So you know, just give me 15 minutes and I’m sure I’ll think of something else to do in the world!! Hahaha 😆

I’ll tag a few of you out there and give this a go, if you so wish! It’s alway nice to get to know more about one another and I enjoy seeing you bunch around on here!

@firerose @wrenandshinpy @vesperlily @rizz-god @paper-moon-beams @sundogriverwolf @roguegona @bitch-of-the-year-6661 @amerikated @gavfleetout @whiteravengreywolf

Thanks again @femmefighter ! This was very nice!

#tag game

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rebeccathenaturalist · 1 year ago

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Well, it's been a whirlwind few days! Thursday I went on the weekly phenology walk at Audubon Trails Nature Center in Rolla, MO. It's the last one of the year, and we were seeing if there were still any wildflowers in bloom in spite of the freeze a few nights before. We did find a scant few Asteraceae with open flowers, but for the most part everything was done for the year. It was a really good experience getting to wander the trails with someone who knows the local flora really well; I'm still playing catch-up on learning (and remembering) native prairie plants in this area, and since they happen every Thursday morning during the growing season, I'm going to make sure and attend whenever I'm in town.

Thursday afternoon I officially taught my first in-person class in Rolla with my basic mushroom foraging intro at the Rolla Public Library. I checked out SO MANY BOOKS from that library as a kid, and so it was basically coming full circle to be able to teach there. I had an awesome audience that packed the room, got some great questions, and really appreciated the support that library staff gave me throughout the entire process. I'm already brainstorming what I want to teach when I head back to this area next spring.

Friday I got to spend immersed in planty goodness at the Missouri Botanical Symposium. I had actually registered last year but ended up not feeling good at the last moment so I had to miss out. Totally worth the entire trip this year, though! There were some really great talks (I especially enjoyed the one on the interplay of geology and plant life in Missouri karst fens), and I even made some good connections and new friends! I am SUCH an introvert that it can be tough for me to go around introducing myself in a room where I don't know anyone, but luckily a friendly extrovert latched onto me and helped me meet some really cool people. (Also, pro tip: having art supplies out and in use makes for a great conversation starter, and if you bring enough for others to use you can have a little science illustration party at your table!)

Saturday I peeled myself out of bed early yet again for a very good reason--I got to lead a lichen hike at Audubon Trails! It sort of felt like cramming for a test because while the basic biology of lichens is the same everywhere, I'm not as familiar with local species here as I am back home in the PNW. So I visited the site a few times on this visit to look for cool lichens and try to get them down to at least a genus level, if not species. Again, really great turnout for the hike--people were having a great time, lots of excellent questions and discoveries along the way. And there were two kids from the Rolla Outdoor Collaborative School on site who were not only THE best guides to the trails there, but they found and showed off some cool stuff (including lichens, AND fuzzy oak galls!) The next generation of naturalists is already well on their way to helping others connect with the great outdoors, which does my heart good.

I gotta start driving back west tomorrow; I have classes in Portland next weekend. So today is being lazy, doing laundry, and helping my folks with a few more things around the house. It's been another great visit here, though, and I'm already making plans for next year. I'm going to try to schedule a couple of classes along the way for my spring trip; since I'll likely be taking I-70 since 80 is sketchy even in April, I'm probably looking at Salt Lake City and Denver for venues. I'm open to suggestions if anyone knows of a bookstore, library, nature center, or similar who might like to host a wandering naturalist infodumping about ecology for a couple of hours!

#Missouri #Ozarks #nature #naturalist #mushrooms #fungi #mushroom hunting #prairie #tallgrass prairie #oak gall #gall wasps #oak #oak trees #ecology #plants #botany

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wickedsrest-rp · 1 year ago

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Name: Oliver O'Rourke Species: Human (Pre-Lamia) Occupation: Art Teacher Age: 33 Years Old Played By: Gray Face Claim: Sam Claflin

"My family? Turned into luggage. Tragic, yes. No, not really…"

TW: Parental death

It’s just so easy for a small town to coil up around a person. Wicked’s Rest always had too tight a grip on Ollie. He grew up restless, from his bouncing knees to his daydreaming mind, and somewhat smothered by a mother and grandmother who only seemed to get more overprotective the older he got. But as a child, that house at the very, very edge of Worm Row seemed almost magical, like his grandmother’s fascination with the Flat and her host of historical paraphernalia, or his mother’s tender adoration of the Museum’s collection. The shine wore off, though. Soon, because kids are cruel, what’d once been earnest and exciting turned embarrassing; he was quickly, chronically short on friends, self-confidence, and space. As for his father, and everything beyond Wicked’s Rest - Ollie had hardly known his dad long enough to miss the idea of him, but… he could understand wanting to skip town, sometimes. Even just to see! He was always made to feel some sort of bad, though, for even thinking of everywhere he read about, far from home.

So he didn’t. Not out loud, anyway. Like he didn’t complain about schoolyard bullies, or that particularly, yes, small town kind of loneliness - the low ache of spending your adolescence in a claustrophobic world where you knew everyone, forever, and never really got the chance to slough off the stories life left you with. Like that kid whose dad dropped out of parenting to start a band, or something. Or Weird Willa’s grandson, yeah, the hoarder who ran the Serpent’s Flat tours. Or the boy whose mom freaked out over the craziest stuff. Like, cried on the field because he took a soccer ball to the head and needed a couple stitches. And pulled him out of every sport forever. And chased down the school bus because she hadn’t realized the marine biology field trip was leaving town; just for the afternoon, but no, she reamed that teacher out right on the highway. And so on, and so on.

By the time Ollie was this close to escaping high school, he was sure he needed to escape Wicked’s Rest, too. College seemed like an excuse, yes, but - a good one. Maybe the best he’d get. So Ollie simply lost his application to UMWR, and quietly started packing. When an acceptance letter came back, his family couldn’t believe it. In a bad way. How could he go? Didn’t he understand?

Understand what? That he was supposed to spend the rest of his life managing their unresolved crap, whatever it was? That he ought to give up on going anywhere, or doing anything, because they were afraid to? That he knew they didn’t think he’d make it doing whatever he did, anyway? That wasn’t fair, his mother insisted; it was only that he really should consider the risks, the cost. None of which anyone but Ollie seemed able to define. More than ready to prove something, he left that old house on a bad note that never quite stopped ringing in his ears.

It wasn’t his family’s fretting that brought him back to Maine. He was fine on his own. (Obviously. Not flinching away from risks and costs of any kind, ever.) But they weren’t. His grandmother was getting older. And that house needed more and more work just to stay standing, leaning heavier on the Flat by the year. So he’d visit, take care of things. And go back to his cats and classes, in Portland. There’d always be another round of students getting up to their elbows in acrylic paint or staging a new play or practicing the heck out of their next concert number. And… summer? And the next relationship he’d get cold feet about for no good reason. And talking his mother out of her vague, frantic spirals of worry. Even if he still didn’t understand what she was so afraid of, he could at least recognize the patterns; the regular reticulations of her anxiety, so much like his own. And not. Still goddamn mysterious. But predictable, at least. Life, in general, was predictable. At some point, that had stopped feeling stifling. Couldn’t notice how tightly his sense of life had constricted if he didn’t go wriggling too hard against the flow.

But Serpent’s Flat did some writhing of its own. Suddenly, his mother was… gone. An accident? Willa couldn’t seem to say, exactly; she just begged him to come home, stay home. He did, for her sake. She seemed to think it was for his. It’s been several months, now, of weathering both the raw shock of his mom’s death and the nearness of his grandma’s. Even her ever-odder questions and ever-deeper frowns were some kind of comfort. Then it came: what felt like a final talk. And what a talk it was. Apparently, his mom had been murdered, hunted, because she - because something had gone wrong, like it hadn’t for ages. Apparently the O’Rourkes had a problem. Apparently, that problem was… why wasn’t she laughing? Why wasn’t this insane explanation for everything from jaw pain (stress, clearly) to back aches (more stress, clearly) not one last, hilarious joke? Weird Willa, always a riot. Spinning another story. Their story. No; not really. No way. He said so then, and he reminded himself, again, as his skin crawled all the way through his grandma’s funeral, her desperate certainty haunting him like a headache. Which he still has, as he carries on clearing that hoard-cluttered house that nobody in their right mind would ever buy, and getting ready to head back to work because he’s out of bereavement and sick leave and then some, and… everything else he needs to do. It’s just a headache. Just stress. Clearly.

Character Facts:

Personality: Creative, empathetic, perceptive, hard-working, finicky, perfectionistic, restless, stubborn

Ollie’s a vegetarian, and a squeamish one - he always did love animals. Which is unfortunate, given… yeah.

In Portland, Ollie taught a mix of arts subjects across levels - studio art, music, some drama, mostly high school, a little primary, some community center stuff over the summers. Really, he’s been teaching in some kind of way for ages; he was one of those kids who showed the new art/drama nerds the ropes in high school, and spent a few teenaged summers as a swim instructor. Since moving back to Wicked’s Rest, he’s worked as a TA at UMWR for the summer semester to help make ends meet and managed to nab a contract at his old high school for fall. He’s hoping to get this whole alleged “man-eating snake monster” issue sorted out before classes start up again. Totally doable. Right?

Most of his artistic hobbies have turned into work, and stopped being something he does for himself and the joy of it; besides those, his pastimes run outdoorsy. We’re talking gardening - picked up from the grandmother he’s just lost, in the garden he’s supposedly going to sell off with the rest of the old family house - running, hiking, and, yes, swimming. Nothing serpenty about that, obviously.

His maternal grandmother, Willa O’Rourke, was something of a local character; she worked as a very enthusiastic tour guide at the Serpent’s Flat Viewing Station, and was a notorious hoarder and patron of antiques stores, estate sales, auctions, and other opportunities to pick up “eclectic” goods. Looking around that old house he’s trying to pack up, it’s difficult to tell what’s family junk, superstitious (and occasionally supernatural) odds and sods, and/or the disorganized notes and clippings of an amateur historian.

The O’Rourkes never allowed pets of any kind, despite Ollie’s childhood hopes; his mom feared having bite-size companions around might tempt her seemingly dormant curse out into the open, and Ollie’s, too. This, of course, was never explained to Ollie, who adopted a couple cats after he scored his first teaching contract. Vince and Theo have been weirdly aloof, lately; adjusting to the recent spate of extra-weirdness the town’s had going on, that’s all. Definitely.

#parental death tw #bio #taken #taken lamia #taken human #human #lamia #sam claflin #instar

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runawaymun · 2 years ago

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15 Questions 15 Mutuals

I was tagged by @fenharel-enaste, thank you!!! This looks fun :D

Rules: answer the questions and tag fifteen mutuals

1. Are you named after anyone?

Nope. I was named due to the meaning.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Uh two days ago when the Horrors were upon me.

3. Do you have kids?

Nope!

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Sarcasm is like 98% of my humor and it really gets me in trouble sometimes. D:

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Prev said vibes and I have to second that. It's hard to really explain, but I'm just always paying attention to how someone makes me feel when talking to them. I've got pretty bad social anxiety and a traumatic background so if I find someone who gives off comfy vibes who I feel safe around, that's a pretty big deal. I'm always weighing how safe I am around people.

6. What's your eye colour?

Light blue.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Both?

"Happy" endings is a loaded term for me. I don't always need stories to have "happy" endings, but I do want catharsis in some way shape or form. If I don't get catharsis, then why are we even here lol

8. Any special talents?

Mimicking character voice when writing. If we're going to go with a random specific talent. I like to think I have a knack for making characters sound like themselves when I'm writing fanfic.

9. Where were you born?

Portland, Oregon :)

10. What are your hobbies?

Writing (obviously), playing video games (especially survival and RPGs), discussing fiction with friends, DnD when my chronic illness is behaving, reading, making music playlists

11. Have you any pets?

Three cats :) Malka (curly tailed half feral beastie we got off the street), Patrick (orange clinically stupid sweet boy), and Rhaenyra (wee zoom zoom kitten. A menace).

12. What sports do you play/have played?

Literally zero D: we weren't really a family that did "sports" growing up. I did a bit of ballet and some swim lessons. I always wanted to do gymnastics, though!

13. How tall are you?

4'9" or so.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Absolutely any history classes (but mostly any kind of pre 20th century history!), and chemistry.

15. Dream job?

cottage-in-the-woods resident, baker of bread, ideally making enough money to support myself via any combo of my art skills.

TAGGING WITH NO PRESSURE: @robertaramayo @jaz-the-bard @raointean @eldritchteletubbie @softlypause @bananaphanta @creativity-of-death @elrond-kind-as-summer @modernmythic @blueberryrock @valasania-the-pale @themerriweathermage @the-commonplace-book @ichabodjane @ramyun-monster

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kovulwa · 2 months ago

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9/13/2024

I've been struggling a lot recently w/ imposter syndrome and also just a general feeling of spiralling.

I need to put my thoughts down, but I find it difficult to do so. I don't feel motivated in any way, I know the act and action will be healthy (ultimately) but the urge to dissociate any time I'm by myself is too strong.

So I'm out in the world, being a thousand different someone elses for a thousand different someones. And all of them feel inadequate, like I'm putting on a performance for a role I never asked for and couldn't play even if I did ask for it.

I'm 32, I have no skills to speak of. I dropped out of high school, moved away from my hometown, and bummed it in the service industry before moving into manufacturing where I still make a living. The things I used to love to do, I am hopelessly mediocre at, time has made me foolish and insecure.

I would like to change all that, and I don't really have a good idea of where to start.

I need to practice guitar if I want to improve.

I need to write more if I want to improve.

I need to draw more if I want to improve.

And then I think. Ok, so you spend the time getting good at the things you love. Then what? Shouldn't the act be fulfilling in and of itself? That's what I think, plainly. But my thoughts convince me out of this, that actually, as long as I am forced to work a menial job, what good is my art except a pacifier for myself?

and I started making art because I am terminally unable to connect with other people. I want to, but I don't know how to talk. Or act. And when it does work, I find myself immediately regretful. Exposed.

Maybe more than ever it's just this cascade of hopelessness and despair. I've seen it my whole life, or been aware of it, rather. But it's stronger now than ever before, that feeling like spiritual acid rain. We are all trapped in a meat grinder, we are standing arm and arm inside a giant compactor and the walls get tighter and tighter.

So I have to sort my thoughts and separate the strands and keep it from becoming this great big fucking knotted thing that weighs me down entirely and keeps me unable to move or act or think, a brain fit only for bare routine.

But I don't want to be that way, I don't want this to be who I am forever until I die. And I don't want to choose to die rather than stay in the routine, a grim thought I have hourly if not daily.

So here are all the things I'd like to do creatively, somehow, in no particular order, before I succumb to bad thoughts or get in a car wreck or whatever.

"I Am the Chasm" - Coven Brothers is my band, and I would really like to write and record the second album. The first was ok, I think I made a lot of mistakes and bad calls and I think you can hear every single one, but I need to try again. I have a better formed idea of what I want the record to sound like and how to tie things in thematically, so I can't give up on this.

"A Serious Kid" - This was my idea for a solo album, something more introspective and gentle than the previous entry. I have quite a few songs written for this, but I need to flesh out arrangements and actually finish writing out the ideas I had for this record.

Practice drawing. Self explanatory, but for context. I'm not an artist, visually anyway (or in any other regard, depending on what day you ask). But I've always loved visual art and was envious of people who could bring life to images. I should look into foundational drawing texts or classes or something to help me get started, but in the meantime I have two hands and a sketchbook, so I can work at it.

Write more prose. When I first moved to Portland, back in 2014, I had a pretty rough go of it. I was in a relationship that was bad for both of us, I missed the people that I left behind even though they very often hurt my feelings and made me feel excluded. Under this backdrop, I began writing a novel. I don't know why I thought I could do that, and upon sharing and editing and getting feedback for a period, it's been pretty much left to rot in a binder somewhere in my desk. But I've often wanted to revisit it, blow up whatever I had written down and try to string it back together into something good and worthwhile.

Write more poetry. I'm actually doing ok on this one, though like any creative pursuit in a vacuum, I have no idea if what I'm doing is any good or not. But I have been bringing my moleskin to new places, any time I'm out of the house, and writing a few short lines at the very least. Sometimes it feels effortless, and I find myself writing a few lines or stanzas and other times the moleskin goes unopened entirely.

I also need to get therapy.

I think that is a funny last line for this post.

0 notes

kimjanese · 1 year ago

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Ways to Make the Most of a Long Layover

Ways to Make the Most of a Long Layover https://kimjanese.com/ways-to-make-the-most-of-a-long-layover/ Air travel can be both exhilarating and exhausting. While the promise of reaching distant shores or returning home is always exciting, long layovers can often be a dampener. Hours spent in an unfamiliar airport can seem endless, making travelers anxious and weary. However, a lengthy layover doesn’t always have to be a dreaded part of your journey. With some creativity and planning, it can become an opportunity – a bonus trip within a trip. Whether exploring a new city, indulging in local cuisine, or simply relaxing and rejuvenating, there are numerous ways to make the most of that extended wait between flights. Layovers, an inevitable part of many international flights, are built-in breaks between connecting flights. They can result from airline routing, budgetary considerations, or the unavailability of direct flights. Historically, layovers were seen as inconvenient pauses, causing interruptions in the rhythm of travel. But with the modernization of airports, growth in amenities, and easier access to city centers, they are increasingly being viewed as opportunities. Many travelers even intentionally opt for long layovers to squeeze in a mini-vacation or break the monotony of extended flights. Explore the City One of the most fulfilling ways to use a long layover is exiting the airport and exploring the city. Many major airports are well-connected to the city center by fast public transportation, making it feasible for travelers to get a taste of the locale. Before beginning your mini-adventure, ensure you know the country’s visa requirements. Some cities even offer free transit tours for travelers with long layovers. For instance, if you’re at Incheon Airport in Seoul, you can sign up for a free transit tour, which ranges from a quick city tour to a visit to historical palaces. Pack a small day bag with essentials and leave your luggage in airport storage. Remember to factor in the time you’ll need to return, clear security, and board your next flight. Pamper Yourself Airports, especially the larger ones, have transformed into mini-cities offering many services. For those not keen on venturing out, consider indulging in some self-care. Many airports boast spa services where travelers can get a massage, facial, or refreshing shower. Lounge access is another luxurious option. While traditionally reserved for first or business-class travelers, many lounges now allow free entry. These spaces provide comfortable seating, complimentary food and drinks, Wi-Fi, and sometimes even sleeping pods. If shopping is therapeutic for you, explore the duty-free shops. From high-end brands to local souvenirs, various shopping options are available. Engage in Leisure and Learning Long layovers are the perfect opportunity to catch up on reading, watch that movie you’ve missed, or even learn about the place you’re in. Some airports, like Singapore’s Changi, have movie theaters showing films for free. Others, like Portland’s PDX, offer local art exhibits and mini-museums. Consider downloading a language app and picking up some basic phrases from the country you’re visiting. Alternatively, pen down your travel experiences in a journal or blog. For those traveling with kids, many airports have play areas designed to keep children entertained and active. While long layovers might seem like tedious pauses in a journey, they hold the potential to be experienced in their own right. Whether you’re an intrepid explorer, a leisure seeker, or someone looking to learn and engage, there are myriad ways to make these hours count. The key lies in shifting one’s perspective from viewing layovers as delays to seeing them as opportunities. With a dash of planning and an open mind, you can transform any layover, long or short, into a cherished part of your travel tapestry. The post Ways to Make the Most of a Long Layover first appeared on Kim Janese | Travel.

#Kim Janese | Travel

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kammartinez · 1 year ago

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https://www.washingtonpost.com/books/2023/07/27/rules-for-reading-dirda/

Paperback or hardcover? Used or new? Let’s talk about our book habits.

Michael Dirda

Over time, all readers acquire an array of personal, often bizarrely eccentric rules and routines that govern — or warp — how they interact with the printed word. For example, some people will buy only crisp, new trade paperbacks and wouldn’t touch a used book on a bet. Fear of cooties, perhaps. Do you remove the dust jacket when you sit down with a novel? I always do. Can you read (or write) while listening to music? I find this impossible, which is why you’ll never see me working at a coffee shop. What follows is a list, in no particular order, of some of my other reading habits and “crotchets,” to use an old-fashioned term. Perhaps you will recognize a few of your own.

Hard- vs. softcover

I almost always prefer a hardcover to a paperback and a first edition to a later printing — except in the case of scholarly works, when I want the latest revised or updated version of the text.

Typeface troubles

My heart sinks when I see a desirable book printed in eye-strainingly small type. Publishers must imagine that only eagles will read it.

Books as gifts

I will spend any amount on gift books for my three grandchildren, now ages 8, 6 and 4. Those same grandchildren exploit me mercilessly when we visit Powell’s Books in their hometown, Portland, Ore.

Follow the flag

As a collector, I follow the flag: that is, American editions for American authors, British editions for British authors.

Remainders

I’m deeply irritated by remainder marks — those little red dots, black lines or other insignia with which publishers deface the bottom of a remaindered book’s text block.

Deciding what to read

These days, I expend preposterous amounts of time dillydallying over what to read next. Like Tennessee Williams’s Blanche Dubois, I want magic. It might be found in the enchantments of a novel’s style, the elegance of a scholar’s mind or simply the excitement of learning something new. So I try a few pages of this book and that, restlessly hoping to start one that finally keeps me spellbound.

What I look for in used book shops

In secondhand bookshops, I always look for sharp copies of 1940s and ’50s paperback mysteries, especially Gold Medal titles featuring sexy women on the cover — the best illustrations are by Robert McGinness — or Dell “mapbacks,” which show the scene of the crime on the back.

Plastic covers: No

I find the heavy-duty dust-jacket protectors, commonly used by public libraries, utterly repellent and always remove them whenever I acquire (not often) an ex-library book.

One is never enough

I can’t stop myself from picking up extra copies of favorite books. I own multiple editions of Cyril Connolly’s “The Unquiet Grave,” Joseph Mitchell’s various collections of New Yorker journalism, and E. Nesbit’s novels about the Treasure Seekers and the Bastable family.

Books aren’t commodities

I despise — viscerally, perhaps irrationally — the people one sometimes sees at used book stores scanning every title with a handheld device to check its online price. They regard books strictly as products and usually don’t know anything about them, only caring about what they can buy low and sell high on Amazon or eBay.

Price stickers

Libraries and secondhand dealers sometimes affix ugly labels or price stickers to everything they sell. I soak these excrescences with lighter fluid, so that — with luck — they can be peeled off without abrasion.

The joy of variety

Over the years, I’ve tried to gather the best or most entertaining works in various fields that interest me. That means the literature of almost all genres and time periods, but also books about art, classical music and the history of ideas. As a working-class kid I daydreamed about owning Henry Higgins’s library, as seen in the film version of “My Fair Lady.” While I’ll never have that wonderful room, I now have the books.

Finding a needle in a haystack

I feel insanely chuffed at recognizing scarce and desirable works that have been overlooked or underpriced. I once paid $5 for an inscribed first edition of Zora Neale Hurston’s “Tell My Horse” in a very good dust jacket. Try to find a like copy today.

How many books to pack?

I never climb on a plane or take a trip without at least two books, the second as backup.

Getting kids to love books

Anything that teaches a young child to love reading is fine, including — to speak from experience — superhero comics and Mad Magazine. To my mind, though, high school English classes should avoid works by living authors and instead emphasize canonical “classics.” Young people will gravitate to their contemporaries as a matter of course, but they won’t read Shakespeare or George Eliot or Walt Whitman or Frederick Douglass on their own.

Covers are art

I keep an eye out for pulp magazines with iconic covers. Thus, I own the August 1927 “War of the Worlds” issue of Amazing Stories illustrated by Frank R. Paul, the June 1933 Weird Tales featuring Margaret Brundage’s daring art for Robert E. Howard’s “Black Colossus,” and some wonderful examples of the Shadow, All-Story, Blue Book and Dime Detective magazines. I’m still looking for an attractive, yet affordable, early issue of Black Mask.

Read grammar books

Every year or so, I dip into guides on how to write, and not just William Strunk and E.B. White’s “The Elements of Style.” I regularly fear — perhaps with good reason — that my prose isn’t just sturdy and plain, like Shaker furniture, but actually stale, flat and dull.

Make a mark

Except for beautifully printed or rarely found books, I read almost everything with a pencil in my hand. I mark favorite passages, scribble notes in margins, sometimes even make shopping lists on the end papers. To paraphrase Gibbon on the Roman Emperor Gordian’s 22 acknowledged concubines, my books are for use, not ostentation.

Check the title pages

Rule of thumb: Always check title pages of used books for author signatures or interesting inscriptions. I’ve found first editions autographed by H.G. Wells and Eric Ambler on the $3 carts of secondhand dealers.

Writers as recommenders

Whenever an author I admire mentions a favorite book in an interview or essay, I make a note to look for a copy.

Kondo-ing books

One of my favorite daydreams — I know how pathetic this sounds — is imagining a month in which I do nothing but cull my books, then properly arrange or even catalogue those that remain.

Keep a notebook handy

I regularly copy favorite sentences and passages from my reading into a small notebook I’ve kept since I was in my early 20s. Examples? “Out of the crooked timber of humanity no straight thing was ever made.” — Immanuel Kant. “The primary function of education is to make one maladjusted to ordinary society.” — Northrop Frye. “Love is holy because it is like grace — the worthiness of its object is never really what matters.” — Marilynne Robinson.

Greet old friends

When I’m in a bookstore and notice works by dead authors whom I once counted as friends, I silently say, “Hello, Tom,” “Looking good, John,” “Wish you were here, Alice.”

Buy only what you will read

Mine is a personal library, not a focused collection. I never buy any book I don’t hope to enjoy someday. True collectors, by contrast, aim to be exhaustive and inclusive, gathering all sorts of material they have no intention of ever reading.

One person’s discard …

During my afternoon walks, I always check out Little Free Library boxes and blue recycling bins. I like to see what people have been reading and drinking.

No screens

I’ve never used a Kindle or any type of e-reader. I value books as physical artifacts, each one distinct. Screens impose homogeneity.

Value a home library

I regret that the ideal of a home or family library has pretty much vanished along with door-to-door encyclopedia salesmen and sets of the “Great Books of the Western World.”

Leave old books as they are

Any bowdlerization, “sensitivity editing” or rewriting of older literature is absolutely wrongheaded. Books aren’t something one approves or disapproves of; they are to be understood, interpreted, learned from, shocked by, argued with and enjoyed. Moreover, the evolution of literature and the other arts, their constant renewal over the centuries, has always been fueled by what is now censoriously labeled “cultural appropriation” but which is more properly described as “influence,” “inspiration” or “homage.” Poets, painters, novelists and other artists all borrow, distort and transform. That’s their job; that’s what they do.

Well, I’m a critic

After years as a literary journalist, I no longer feel I’ve really read a book unless I write something about it.

#books #reading

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kamreadsandrecs · 1 year ago

Text

https://www.washingtonpost.com/books/2023/07/27/rules-for-reading-dirda/

Paperback or hardcover? Used or new? Let’s talk about our book habits.

Michael Dirda

Hard- vs. softcover

I almost always prefer a hardcover to a paperback and a first edition to a later printing — except in the case of scholarly works, when I want the latest revised or updated version of the text.

Typeface troubles

My heart sinks when I see a desirable book printed in eye-strainingly small type. Publishers must imagine that only eagles will read it.

Books as gifts

I will spend any amount on gift books for my three grandchildren, now ages 8, 6 and 4. Those same grandchildren exploit me mercilessly when we visit Powell’s Books in their hometown, Portland, Ore.

Follow the flag

As a collector, I follow the flag: that is, American editions for American authors, British editions for British authors.

Remainders

I’m deeply irritated by remainder marks — those little red dots, black lines or other insignia with which publishers deface the bottom of a remaindered book’s text block.

Deciding what to read

What I look for in used book shops

Plastic covers: No

I find the heavy-duty dust-jacket protectors, commonly used by public libraries, utterly repellent and always remove them whenever I acquire (not often) an ex-library book.

One is never enough

Books aren’t commodities

Price stickers

The joy of variety

Finding a needle in a haystack

How many books to pack?

I never climb on a plane or take a trip without at least two books, the second as backup.

Getting kids to love books

Covers are art

Read grammar books

Make a mark

Check the title pages

Writers as recommenders

Whenever an author I admire mentions a favorite book in an interview or essay, I make a note to look for a copy.

Kondo-ing books

One of my favorite daydreams — I know how pathetic this sounds — is imagining a month in which I do nothing but cull my books, then properly arrange or even catalogue those that remain.

Keep a notebook handy

Greet old friends

When I’m in a bookstore and notice works by dead authors whom I once counted as friends, I silently say, “Hello, Tom,” “Looking good, John,” “Wish you were here, Alice.”

Buy only what you will read

One person’s discard …

During my afternoon walks, I always check out Little Free Library boxes and blue recycling bins. I like to see what people have been reading and drinking.

No screens

I’ve never used a Kindle or any type of e-reader. I value books as physical artifacts, each one distinct. Screens impose homogeneity.

Value a home library

I regret that the ideal of a home or family library has pretty much vanished along with door-to-door encyclopedia salesmen and sets of the “Great Books of the Western World.”

Leave old books as they are

Well, I’m a critic

After years as a literary journalist, I no longer feel I’ve really read a book unless I write something about it.

#books #reading

0 notes

portlandselfdefense · 1 year ago

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Portland Academy of Self Defense

Empowering Lives Through Self-Defense: The Portland Academy Experience

In an ever-changing world, personal safety and self-defense skills have become more essential than ever before. In the heart of Portland, Oregon, the Portland Academy of Self Defense stands as a beacon of empowerment, providing individuals with the knowledge and tools to protect themselves and build confidence. With a commitment to fostering a safe and supportive community, this academy has earned a reputation as a premier destination for self-defense training. In this article, we'll delve deep into the essence of the Portland Academy of Self Defense, exploring its history, programs, and the impact it has on the lives of its students.

The Roots of Empowerment

The Portland Academy of Self Defense was founded on a simple yet profound belief: every individual has the right to feel safe and confident in any situation. Established over two decades ago, this academy has continually evolved to meet the changing needs of its students and the community it serves.

Founder and Chief Instructor, Sarah Williams, envisioned a place where people could learn the art of self-defense while building physical and mental strength. Her passion for martial arts and her desire to empower others led her to create an inclusive space where anyone, regardless of age, gender, or physical abilities, could thrive.

Programs That Transform Lives

The cornerstone of the Portland Academy of Self Defense is its comprehensive range of programs, each designed to cater to different needs and skill levels. Whether you're a complete novice or an experienced martial artist, there's something for everyone.

Krav Maga: Krav Maga, a self-defense system developed by the Israeli military, is one of the academy's flagship programs. It focuses on practical techniques that can be used in real-life situations. Students learn to defend themselves against various threats, including armed attackers and multiple assailants.

Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu: Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (BJJ) is another popular program at the academy. It emphasizes ground-based combat and submission holds, making it an excellent choice for those who want to learn practical self-defense skills and gain physical fitness.

Kids' Programs: The academy also offers specialized classes for children, teaching them not only self-defense but also discipline, respect, and confidence. These programs have been instrumental in building the character of young students and equipping them with essential life skills.

Women's Self-Defense: Recognizing the unique safety concerns faced by women, the academy offers specialized women's self-defense classes. These classes create a supportive environment where women can build their self-esteem and learn how to protect themselves effectively.

Fitness and Conditioning: Beyond self-defense, the Portland Academy of Self Defense provides fitness and conditioning classes that help students improve their overall health and stamina. These classes complement the self-defense programs, ensuring that students are physically prepared to defend themselves if the need arises.

The Impact on Students

The impact of the Portland Academy of Self Defense extends far beyond physical skills. Students who walk through its doors often experience profound personal transformations. Here are some ways in which the academy has positively influenced the lives of its students:

Increased Confidence: Learning self-defense empowers individuals to trust in their abilities. This newfound confidence often spills over into other aspects of their lives, leading to improved self-esteem and assertiveness.

Mental Resilience: Self-defense training is as much about mental fortitude as physical prowess. Students learn to stay calm under pressure, think critically, and make quick decisions – skills that are invaluable in both self-defense situations and everyday life.

Community and Camaraderie: The Portland Academy of Self Defense is not just a place to learn; it's a community. Students form strong bonds with their peers, creating a network of support that goes beyond the walls of the academy.

Physical Fitness: Regular training in self-defense and related disciplines contributes to improved physical fitness. Students often find themselves in the best shape of their lives, which has a positive impact on their overall health and well-being.

Lifelong Learning: The pursuit of self-defense is a lifelong journey. Students at the academy develop a thirst for knowledge and self-improvement that extends beyond their training sessions.

Creating a Safe and Inclusive Environment

One of the distinguishing features of the Portland Academy of Self Defense is its unwavering commitment to inclusivity and diversity. The academy welcomes individuals from all walks of life, regardless of their background, gender, age, or physical abilities. This commitment to inclusivity is reflected in the academy's teaching approach, ensuring that everyone feels respected and valued.

In addition to physical skills, students are also taught about de-escalation techniques and conflict resolution. These aspects of training are as important as the physical techniques, as they help students avoid confrontations whenever possible.

The Portland Academy of Self Defense has become a beacon of empowerment and personal growth in the heart of Portland, Oregon. Through its diverse range of programs, it equips individuals with the knowledge and skills to protect themselves, while also fostering a sense of community and personal growth.

As our world continues to evolve, the importance of self-defense and personal safety cannot be overstated. The Portland Academy of Self Defense stands as a testament to the power of education and training in transforming lives. With its commitment to inclusivity, diversity, and empowerment, it has become an invaluable resource for the people of Portland and beyond, empowering individuals to take control of their safety and their lives.

#Self-Defense School #Martial Arts School

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truthorconsequencesrp · 1 year ago

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WADE SOLOMON

CHARACTER NAME: wade solomon FACECLAIM: jake weary AGE: 31 GENDER/PRONOUNS: cis man ; he&him BIRTHDAY/ZODIAC: july 28th, 1991 ; leo OCCUPATION: part-time housekeeper at DUDE MOTEL & APARTMENTS ; part-time farm hand at MILKWEED FARM HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN IN T OR C: six months NEIGHBORHOOD: vista la verde SONG THAT SUITS THEM: daytona sand by orville peck

TRIGGER WARNINGS: drugs ; suicide attempt

ABOUT

wade was supposed to be perfect. an upper-middle-class family with two beautiful and talented daughters and the parents thought that three was the magic number — wade was going to be it. his mother should've known he was going to be trouble from the second she held him in her arms and he wouldn't stop screaming his head off, though. his life was mostly planned out from even before he was born with no room for error, no place for straying. his sisters followed the map and came out on top, wade was going to be next. school, college, career, marriage, kids, happy life — a foolproof plan that his folks stuck to and which wade was supposed to follow, too. none of it worked for him though.

he had trouble at school. nothing really interested him, he always half-assed things because none of them could keep his attention for too long. science and math were too complicated, books were often too hard to read so he never took a liking to english either. art was okay and he was kind of good at it but you also had to show up to school and that was too much to ask from wade. if he showed up, he was stoned, if he decided to skip, he drove somewhere secluded to get stoned. he didn't have any friends and most of the people at school thought he was a freak so it’s not like there was a lot keeping him there.

his senior year of high school, his father ran for governor. that, of course, brought a lot of attention to the picture-perfect family that wade didn’t fit. wade’s sisters were in their junior year at yale and harvard. wade was failing pretty much everything. they were almost engaged. wade couldn’t even remember the name of the guy that kissed him for the first time because he was so drunk. they were going to become doctors or lawyers. wade had no idea what he was going to do. his parents tried to fix him. they got him private tutors, talked the principal into giving him a chance, kept telling wade that if he doesn’t clean up his act there will be consequences. they never thought to take him to see a therapist and that only happened when wade tried to kill himself on christmas day when he was 18. he told his parents that it was an accident and that he didn’t mean to hurt himself and they believed him. they put him on medication and then told him to really get it together or else.

wade always wanted to leave anyway. his hometown always felt like it was suffocating him, more than his own faulty brain ever did. so before they could do anything, he decided to leave on his own. he graduated, barely (and probably only because his parents paid for it; a waste of money, wade always says), emptied his account, packed up his car and just drove. it was week after graduation and he didn’t even say goodbye to anyone. he sent his family a postcard from boston a month later, fuck you thick in red ink on the back of it, in handwriting that didn’t even look like his own anymore. the same day he left and drove to portland, figuring that another huge city will make him feel like he belongs somewhere.

it felt liberating, to finally be on his own. while he never really had any plans for his life, he knew he always wanted to leave — leave and go places, see things. he’s spent eighteen years in a house he hated so the idea of not having a house felt good to him, felt free to him. there’s no career called a little bit of everything but that’s exactly what he did. a small job here and there, anything and everything, from working a cash register to fixing radiators. it was a surprise to see how quick wade was able to pick up a new skill, but it made sense since he was going to be paid for it. he’d sleep in his car, at some random person’s couch, a motel room, even a homeless shelter when he had to. but he was fine. he could do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, spend his time and money whichever way he pleased. after having his parents do everything to control his every move, it felt good to have that.

he didn’t like staying in the same place for too long, it made him feel restless. he needed to go further, he needed to see more. portland, new york, toronto, nashville, houston, phoenix, las vegas, los angeles and every small town in between; wade would pull up a map, scribble some track on it (he still keeps it old school, none of that google maps shit) and follow. sometimes he’d stay a week, other times he’d stay for six months. vegas made him stick around for a year and a half and he almost ended up with a normal life (he had a steady job working the register at target, actually paid rent at the place he lived at and there was a guy who was getting really serious about him) but then the restlessness came back and soon enough he was on his way. it felt good to leave everything behind and it felt good to know that there were new things waiting for him again.

drugs that weren’t weed came surprisingly late for wade, considering his lifestyle. he was 25 and at some musician’s party in la when he tried cocaine first. he moved again soon after but then started running with a crowd that did drugs a lot. he graduated from weed few times a week to blow every weekend, or more. he tried other things, too, every party he went to crazier than the night before. it was the start of a dirty habit that wade can’t kick at this point.

big towns started tiring him out, especially when he realized that small towns were just as easy to navigate as the capitals. he traded chicago for rockford and then traded that for a town with a single street. he still made sure that all the places were close enough to the big ones, just so he didn’t have to drive for hours to get high, but the five-thousand-people towns suited him best. especially if he changed them like gloves.

another thing he changed often was names. wade isn’t the name his parents gave him (he’s always hated it, sounded so grown up, so stuck up, everything that wade wasn’t), solomon isn’t his family name, and by now he’s given himself at least thirty, both first and last. sometimes, he’d pick something new the second he crossed a state line, sometimes he’d go from name to name for each town he stopped by. sometimes, he’d pick something as simple as john or jack, other times he’d become anderson or xander. he can’t write for shit but he’s good at telling stories and each name has one. he picked wade on the spot when he came to T or C six months ago and someone asked for his name for the first time, the last name came later, from the bible in the motel room bedside table.

he was going to leave — this wasn’t meant to be a permanent location, just somewhere to stop by and so after a week in town, he packed up his car and went on his merry way. the very same day he crashed his car, cracked his skull and broke an arm just outside city limits. that itself kept him in town for few more weeks and once he actually settled in, he changed his mind and decided that yeah, maybe he can call this place home for a while now. it’s been six months since — he’s picked up a few jobs here and there, sleeps where he can, gets high when he has the money to spare, tries to actually have friends. in the back of his head, he’s planning another escape because the restlessness has never left and a part of him is dying for a change of scenery. surprisingly enough though, it’s become kinda hard to leave.

EXTRA: pinterest ; playlist 1 & 2

(adrian, 26, gmt+2, he&him)

#town rp #oc rp #takenm #vista la verde #wade solomon #suicide attempt tw #drugs tw

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clanofjones · 10 months ago

Text

1. Were you named after anyone?

Not my given name. My chosen name (one of them, at least) was inspired by a character I was hyperfixating on at the time.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Three weeks ago, when I was in for a rather rude awakening due to past trauma.

3. Do you have kids?

NOPE

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

N/A

5. Do you use sarcasm?

No why would you ever think such a thing (they said sarcastically)

I'm fluent in sarcasm, English is my second language. /hj

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

By looks alone, their hair. By conversation, their vocal inflections and volume.

7. What's your eye color?

I have central heterochromia, so both of my eyes have green/blue and hazel, and they appear greyish green.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings.

9. Any talents?

Basic tumbling skills, I'm taking theater and martial arts classes

10. Where were you born?

In a hospital in Portland, Oregon

11. What are your hobbies?

Drawing, reading (fanfiction), writing (fanfiction), acting, singing/listening to music.

12. Do you have any pets?

I have two cats. They are 2 and 1. The 1 year old is a gremlin and the 2-year-old is Too Old For This Shit.

13. How tall are you?

5'7"

14. Favorite subject in school?

My acting class! Theater people are my PEOPLE, yk?

15. Dream job?

Animator/storyboarder!

Tags: @fanatess, @karonkar, @nosleep83 @mostlyvoid-partiallyturtles @wingstobetorn @normal-sea-urchin @vivixian @paytato435 @friskyeee

Tagged by @skinnyscottishbloke - thank you!! I love these things

1. Were you named after anyone?

Not my first name, but I share my middle name with an aunt on each side of the family

2. When was the last time you cried?

I teared up last night having a conversation with my boyfriend (it wasn't anything bad, no worries! I'm one of those fuckers who tears up whenever I feel even the edge of an emotion if I'm with someone I trust)

3. Do you have kids?

2 step children, a boy and a girl

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

I have never been sporty.... but I danced for 14 years, all the way through until I graduated high school. I miss it a lot.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Naaaahhhhhhhh (she said sarcastically) ((prev, lol))

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Height, eyes, smile

7. What’s your eye color?

Green

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, however I don't mind if we take some dark twists and turns before we get there.

9. Any talents?

Singing, song recognition/lyric retention, dancing, my extremely large and sometimes pretentious vocabulary.

10. Where were you born?

In a small local hospital.

11. What are your hobbies?

Reading, singing (mostly just to myself/by myself these days), cross stitch, cooking, very novice levels of gardening and herbal concoctions.

12. Do you have any pets?

Yes, 2 baby kitty cats.. and our daughter has a hamster.

13. How tall are you?

5'6" - neither short nor tall.

14. Favorite subject in school?

English, 100%. By senior year of high school I was in 3 lit related classes in one semester (ap English, humanities, and intermediate creative writing).. and I majored in creative writing with a minor in English lit in college. I also took Classics and mythology classes for fun.

15. Dream job?

I have always struggled with this question. I have never had a 'dream job', per se. I always feared living my life in a cubical, a slave to capitalism. I lived most of my adult life like that, unfortunately, until recently. Now, accidentally unemployed, I'm trying to figure out what to do next that won't make me miserable.

No pressure tags @phoen1xr0se, @crowleys-hips, @hellogoodomens, @fellthemarvelous, @something-something-goodomens, @takeme-totheworld, @andiv3r

#tag games

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captainsophiestark · 2 years ago

Text

Art is Chaos

Grant Ward x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2022! Requested by anon

Fandom: Marvel

Prompt: "Adaptable, I like that"

Summary: Ward's going undercover in his nightmare scenario - as a hippie art teacher named River. He'll need all his training to pull this one off, but the combination of a pretty girl and a terrible coincidence of his co-art teacher being named Grant might be too much for even Agent Grant Ward's training to manage.

Word Count: 3,541

Category: Uhhhh probably like fluff with humor and a little bit of angst?

A/N: Guysssss this is my 500th post! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ Here’s to 500 more I guess lol!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Grant's POV

"I'm going undercover as an art teacher? Sir, you've got to be kidding me."

"What's the matter? Don't think you can pull it off?"

I scoffed and crossed my arms, looking at Coulson still sitting behind his desk. He just stared back at me, his face completely blank. I hated how easy it was for him to get under my skin.

"Of course I can do it," I replied, knowing full well I was giving him exactly what he wanted. "I just don't think 'art teacher' is really my type."

"What is your type, Agent Ward?"

I fell silent, unable to come up with an answer that didn't sound like a five-year-old would say it. I huffed and looked at the ceiling, then turned back to Coulson with a slight scowl.

"Fine. We'll stick with the planned cover. But if Skye or FitzSimmons says anything, I'm throwing the nearest can of paint in their faces."

The corner of Coulson's mouth quirked up. "Duly noted. Now get going, we don't have a lot of time. The sooner you get teaching, the sooner we catch our target trying to arrange an illegal technology buy in the middle of your class."

"Yes sir."

I nodded and headed out of the room, trying not to look too bothered as I passed Skye on my way to grab my bag. The last thing I needed was her or anyone else asking questions about my cover.

The world outside the bus was about to meet River West, the hippie art teacher from Portland, but I didn't need anyone on the bus besides Coulson to know about him.

****************

Y/N's POV

I smiled to myself as I pulled open the door to the painting studio just a few blocks from my apartment. It had been open for a while now, and had been offering art classes for months, but today was the first time I'd actually gotten around to taking one.

The studio was bright and airy, with tables and easels set up all around the room. Several of the easels were already taken, and two men stood chatting at the front. I wandered over to an easel in the middle, which stood right beside one a friendly-looking woman already stood at.

"This easel taken?" I asked as I approached. She turned to me with a friendly smile and shook her head.

"Not at all, be my guest."

I nodded my thanks, then dropped my bag and took a second to look over the various art supplies piled around my canvas. I hadn't painted in a long time, but I'd seriously loved doing it when I was in high school, so I couldn't have been happier to have the chance to do it again.

Once I was satisfied with my setup, I turned back to the woman next to me with a smile.

"I'm Y/N, by the way," I said, holding out my hand for a shake. She took it and smiled back at me.

"Sarah. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Sarah. So, have you taken one of these classes before?"

"Oh, yeah. I absolutely adore painting, so any chance I find to get behind an easel and spend the day like this, I take it."

"That's awesome," I said, completley meaning it. "I want to paint more often, so maybe I'll follow your lead."

"You should. The teachers are all great, too, although that guy on the left is new."

She nodded towards the tall, handsome man with dark hair, and I watched as he set up the last few supplies for the class. After a second, I realized I'd been staring, and turned to find Sarah grinning at me.

"I guess he's already got one fan," she teased. I felt my face heat up, and I waved my hand at her in a shushing motion, but she just laughed. Mercifully, I was spared from further teasing by the beginning of the class.

"Alright everybody, welcome to Art and Soul," said the guy I hadn't been staring at. He smiled out at all of us, his bright red hair fitting in with the bright colors around the rest of the room. "I'm Grant, and this handsome man to my right is River."

River, the one Sarah had caught me staring at, gave us all a smile and nodded with his hands behind his back.

"We're going to be your instructors for today," Grant continued. "Don't hesitate to ask us if you have any questions or need anything, and remember, there's no 'right way' to do art. The most important thing today is that everyone has a good time. So, without further ado, let's get to painting, yeah?"

We all let up a small cheer, and I smiled as I focused in on both instructors. They walked us through the basic steps of a painting we could create if we wanted to, and I decided I might as well follow the prompt, at least for today. After doing a quick pencil sketch to get an idea of the lines and shapes I wanted to build, I was finally painting again, and damn it felt good.

After the first few minutes, the teachers started walking around to look over our paintings and see if we needed any help. I tried not to freak out too much when I saw River, the handsome teacher, coming my way.

"Hey, this is looking good," he said, coming to a stop beside me. He gestured at the different brushstrokes on my canvas before looking at me with a smile. "You've got some real talent here."

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as I glanced down at the floor. River didn't budge, just stayed right over my shoulder until I finally looked up at him. He grinned right back.

"Thanks," I said. "I haven't done it in a while, so we'll see if it stays this good, but..."

"Hey, what's the matter, you didn't hear my co-teacher earlier?" he asked, hands on his hips and a small smile on his face as he fixed me with a look. "There's no such thing as bad art."

My lips slowly pulled up into a smile, and I nodded to River.

"Thanks."

"Anytime. I'll be back in a few, alright?"

I nodded my thanks, and River shot me a wink before striding off to the set of easels behind me. I stared straight ahead at my canvas while I tried to get my giddy expression under control. I finally widened my horizons from my tunnel vision when I felt more confident, only to find I hadn't done a very good job.

"So... River, huh?"

I threw my hands over my face as Sarah gave me a sly look. She just laughed, and I sighed as I picked up my paintbrush and tried to distract myself by adding some brushstrokes to the canvas. Sarah nudged me and I shook my head, but I couldn't keep a smile off my face.

"What do you want me to say?" I finally sighed. "He's handsome."

"That he is," she chuckled. "No judgement here. You go get him."

We carried on working with minimal River interruptions for a while, as my painting of the ocean beyond the trees of the forest started to take shape. I set down my larger paintbrush and looked over my remaining supplies for a wiry brush to make the leaves of the trees, but it was missing.

I looked around, but both River and his co-teacher Grant were busy. Sarah was across the room talking with another student, and I didn't want to interrupt any of them, so that meant I needed to improvise.

I furrowed my brow as I looked around for inspiration, finally finding it when my eyes landed on my bag. I dug around for a few seconds then pulled out a handful of bobbypins and a hairtie. Perfect.

I used my hairtie to bind the narrow ends of the bobbypins together, and then dipped the splayed-out unconnected ends into the green paint. I gave them a few experimental swipes over my trees in the furthest corner to make sure I liked the way it looked, and was pleased to find that I did.

Art hacking like a pro.

Now that I had all the tools I needed, I completely zoned in on perfecting my pine trees. The world around me faded away as I worked, and I lost myself in my painting so much that I didn't even notice River showing up beside me until he spoke.

"You're using bobbypins as a paintbrush?"

I jumped, jerking my makeshift paintbrush up and thankfully away from the canvas. I laughed as the adrenaline faded a little, looking to River with a smile.

"Geeze, you scared me," I breathed.

"Sorry. You were really into your painting, weren't you?"

"I mean, yeah. You must know how it gets when you're in the zone."

River looked down and nodded, but didn't say anything. His lips were pursed and he didn't meet my eyes until a few moments later, with a smile on his face again.

"So... the bobbypins?"

"Oh! Yeah, I didn't have a wire brush, and you and the other teacher were busy," I explained. "I was gonna borrow one from Sarah, but she was talking to somebody on the other side of the room, so I improvised."

River glanced from me to Sarah when I mentioned her, but his eyes quickly came back to me. His smile had dropped for a second before returning, and he leaned in a little closer to me.

"Improvising art supplies," he said, sounding impressed. "Adaptable, I like that."

I pressed my lips together tightly to try to suppress my smile and glanced down at my feet again. When I looked back up at River, his eyes were still on me, a kind smile on his face. We held each others' stares for a few beats, and it was like he had his own gravity, pulling me slowly towards him. The distance between us closed, bit by bit, and I thought we were actually going to kiss in the middle of an art class before something seemed to snap River out of it.

He pulled back quickly, his eyes darting to a place over my shoulder before looking back at me. He cleared his throat, for once looking as flustered as I felt.

"I'll, uh- hm, I'll be right back. Sorry."

With that, he hurried off to the other side of the room. I watched him go, unable to help the disappointment pooling in my chest. What had happened?

I tried to shake it off as I turned back to my painting. I'd finished with the trees, so I didn't have to go back to the bobbypins, and Sarah was mercifully on the other side of the room so she couldn't tease me about anything.

The class continued, and River mostly kept to the other side of the room. Sarah floated between the easel next to mine and one in the back left corner, but she never failed to bring up River when she came back to our neighboring canvasses. Despite the unexpected stressors, however, I still found myself enjoyinig the experience.

Finally, it was time for me to put the finishing touches on my painting. Once the last brushstrokes were in place, I took a step back to admire my handiwork. It certainly wasn't perfect, but that was just part of the art. I'd had fun making it, and I liked the way it looked, so as far as I was concerned, it was a success.

The only thing left to do now was to sign it. I glanced down at my station, but all my brushes were filthy with other colors, and the pencil marks would fade faster than I wanted them to. I debated digging into my bag and seeing if I could find some liquid eyeliner, but for my signature on my masterpiece, I didn't really want to find an improv solution.

I glanced up and scanned the room for River, but he was in the far back corner again, hovering around the easel that Sarah kept visiting. Sarah, this time, was next to me, one eye on River. I sighed heavily and decided I didn't want anything to do with that, especially since I was here for a nice, relaxing day of art. I turned and found the other teacher, Grant, instead.

"Grant!" I called across the room. The redhead turned, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw River whirl around too. I turned to look at him, and found Sarah staring at him from next to me too. Nobody moved for a few beats, and a strange silence fell over the room. Then, the man at the canvas Sarah kept visiting whirled around with lighting speed and levelled a punch at River.

"Oh my God!" I cried. I thought for sure he was about to be laid out, but he ducked the punch with lighting reflexes of his own. Before I could blink, he returned fire, knocking the guy out in a single punch as the rest of our class screamed and ran for the exits.

"I knew it," I heard Sarah mutter as she dug into her bag. To my shock and horror, she pulled out a gun and started heading across the room for River.

The room was basically empty now, aside from me and Sarah. River had disappeared in the chaos, although Sarah was clearly searching for him as she prowled across the room. I took a few terrified steps backwards, away from her, trying not to make any noise or sudden movements.

I kept moving backwards, and thankfully, Sarah didn't notice me. I felt like I was about to have a heartattack, but I forced myself to stay calm as I slowly edged backwards. It all crumbled in an instant, however, when a hand clamped over my mouth and a strong arm wrapped around my waist before pulling me backwards.

I started to scream, but it quickly died in my throat as I was yanked around a corner, out of sight of Sarah. My back hit the wall, but not very hard, and I came face to face with River staring at me intensely.

"I'm gonna take my hand off your mouth," he said, his voice soft and barely above a whisper. "Don't scream, alright?"

I nodded, and slowly, he pulled back his hand. I stared at him, trying to calm my racing heartbeat, but considering the events of the last few minutes I really couldn't do much.

"What. The hell. Was that?" I hissed, finally finding my breath. River grimaced and looked at the ground.

"A rookie mistake," he muttered. I raised my eyebrows and gave him an exaggerated look, so he sighed and continued. "My name's not River."

"What?"

"My name is Grant Ward-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, Grant? Like, the other art teacher Grant?"

River–Grant, apparently–huffed an irritated sigh. "Believe me, I was so much more pissed about that than you."

"Why did you need a fake name to be an art teacher?"

"I'm not an art teacher. I'm a SHIELD agent, here undercover to find your friend Sarah and her buddy in the back of the classroom. They've been using this space as a cover for meetups and scheduling illegal trades of highly dangerous alien technology."

My mouth dropped open, and I couldn't do more than gape at Grant in shock. He gave me a sympathetic look, then took a step back.

"You need to get out of here," he said. He nodded down the hallway, where there was a back exit out of the building. "Go meet up with everyone who's out on the street. You'll be safe out there."

"Wait! What about you?"

"I'll be fine. This is my job, I'm used to it."

With that, he ducked back around the corner and into the room where Sarah presumably still waited with a gun.

I stared after him, completely unsure what to do for a few beats. I glanced back at the door behind me that Grant had pointed out, and took a few steps in that direction when I heard Sarah's now-familiar voice.

"You really had it bad for her, didn't you, Grant?" she taunted. "That was an embarrassingly stupid mistake you made, giving away your identity just because a pretty girl called your real name."

I grimaced. I needed to get out of here. Grant was trained, and I was not. I had no idea what I was doing. I'd probably get in the way and be more harm than help.

"And now, that little mistake is going to cost you. Let's send a little message to SHIELD, shall we? About what happens when you try to meddle in places that were better left alone."

Against my better judgement, I turned back towards the classroom and quickly crossed to the doorway Grant had snuck me out of. I don't know if it was curiosity, stupidity, or something else, but I just had to go back. I peeked around the corner to find Sarah with her back to me, arms up, and a gun pointed at Grant. There was enough space between them that Grant had no shot at getting the gun from Sarah, and I could see in his face that he knew it.

"Any last words, Grant?" Sarah taunted. He took a deep, fortifying breath, and in that gap, I followed my gut instincts and threw caution to the wind. I sprinted into the room at full-speed and tackled Sarah from behind with all the force I could muster.

We hit the ground together, and she shrieked as we went down. It only took a few seconds for her to flip me off of her, and I saw my life flash before my eyes as she whirled on me. Then, at the last second, she collapsed unconscious to the ground instead.

I looked up to see Grant standing over her, a painter's palette that he'd used to knock her out in his hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked, quickly dropping to a crouch in front of me. I smiled at him and nodded, the terror turning into giddyness as the adrenaline dump hit.

"I'm great. Is that a painter's palette?"

"What? Yes, it is. Y/N, what were you thinking? That was incredibly dangerous-"

"Adaptable," I said, breaking in and giggling as I fixed him with what I hoped was a flirty look. "I like that."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but I caught a faint smile on his face despite how hard he tried to hide it. He straightened and held out a hand to help me up, which I took.

"You should've gotten the hell out of here," he said. We stood almost chest to chest, and he hadn't dropped my hand.

"And where exactly would you be if I had?"

"I would've been fine." I just raised an eyebrow at Grant, and after determinedly holding my stare for a few moments, he sighed. "Alright. You might've saved my life."

I grinned, although I wasn't completely sure why. This was not the kind of situation that should've had me smiling.

"So..." said Grant, dropping my hand and taking a half-step back as he surveyed the scene around us. Police sirens sounded outside, and we could hear the nervous chatter from the evacuated crowd, too. "I need to clean this up. But... I'd love to buy you a cup of coffee afterwards, if you'd be interested. Since you saved my life and all."

I beamed back at him as I answered. "Honestly? You definitley owe me a coffee and a little more explanation after all of this."

Grant let out a small laugh as he stepped a little further away from me and grabbed some drop sheets from the far side of the room to start tying up Sarah.

"You're on. I'll call you when I'm done here," he said. "In the meantime, you should probably head out. I've got a badge to get us out of any questions the cops might have, but it'd probably be better if your name didn't come up at all."

I nodded and took a few steps towards the back door, grabbing my painting and bag as I went. I paused just on the threshold and stared at Grant as he continued to round up the apparent criminals and made sure their weapons were accounted for.

"Grant... do you... need my number? Or something?"

He paused his work to look up at me with an arrogant grin.

"I'm an agent of SHIELD. I'll find you." I raised an eyebrow, and after a second, he dropped the act. "Your number's on the class roster. I'll call that."

I laughed and nodded, giving Grant a small wave as I headed down the back hallway. I probalby wouldn't be coming back to this painting class, if I were being completely honest with myself, but I didn't mind. I could pick back up painting on my own just fine, from the safety of my own home.

Besides, the class wasn't going to be a total wash. I'd found Grant, after all, and every time I thought about him my heart leapt. And since everyone had come out of it okay, I felt perfectly comfortable saying a little chaos was worth the result.

Chaos was my favorite kind of art, after all.

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