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chaoticneurodivergent · 4 years ago

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Signs that you might have undiagnosed autism

For those who are questioning whether they may/may not be autistic, here is a list of possible signs/symptoms that you could be autistic. I broke them up into categories so they're easier to analyze.

Social:

You find eye contact uncomfortable or painful, or find that eye contact distracts you from conversation and is difficult to maintain

You find that social interaction takes a lot of planning, thought, and effort, and as a result it can be very draining

You've always felt different from other people - you may have thought when you were younger that you were a different species or there was something wrong with you or everyone else

You've often been the target of bullying, teasing, etcetera and you don't know why

You feel like you're not getting something that everyone else is or you're on a different wavelength

You struggle to pick up on social cues or things that are implied, instead relying on direct communication, and you wonder why people have to be so subtle and confusing

You get burned out or tired in social situations quickly

You find yourself memorizing scripts for how to engage in small talk rather than going with the flow and just conversing

People often say that you're rude or disrespectful and you don't understand why

You don't understand why people can't just say what they mean instead of hinting all the time

You struggle to read tone of voice and facial expressions

You often miss sarcasm or jokes that everyone else gets go over your head

You like to talk about facts in conversation rather than people or smalltalk (for example, sharing facts about a topic you're interested in VS. talking about your day)

You've often wondered why you can't fit in

Special Interests:

You often have one particular thing or a few particular things at any given time that you are very interested in, think about constantly, and want to talk about over everything else

People often tell you you're going on and on about the same thing

You are most passionate and happy when you're researching or engaging with an interest of yours (for example, learning about penguins or playing a video game you're interested in)

You want to connect with people over interests rather than traits, and you're drawn to smalltalk about facts rather than emotions or personal stories

When you're interested in something , you involve it in everything else and try to find ways to work it into all aspects of your life, or you get upset when you can't engage with it

Routine/Structure:

You rely on sameness to function - change is very stressful to you

You like to follow a strict routine, either of specific times or specific activities (e.g. I eat a specific brand of chocolate pudding in my specific chair once a day)

People tell you you need to be more flexible

You like to eat the same foods over and over, watch the same movies over and over, or listen to the same song on repeat

Familiarity is more satisfying to you than novelty

Sensory:

You cannot handle loud noises, bright lights, crowds, being touched, or any other high sensory input (it can be any one of these, not necessarily all of them)

You sometimes feel understimulated and seek out deep pressure (weight on you, tight hugs, etc.)

You sometimes feel overloaded with sensory input and need to go into a quiet place alone to calm down

If you can't go to a quiet place during these moments, you may either shut down (have trouble speaking, moving, etc.) or meltdown

You like to "stim" by doing any of the following:

Singing, repeating words over and over,. making noises, or otherwise creating noise (vocal/auditory)

Looking at bright lights or sparkly, bright, shiny, etc. things

Tapping, clapping, hand flapping, wiggling or making motions with your fingers, rubbing or touching something with a nice texture (tactile)

Spinning, jumping, balancing (vestibular)

Putting things in your mouth or chewing on things (oral)

You sometimes don't notice pain / notice you have scratches or bruises and don't know where you got them from (nociceptive hyposensitivity)

Other Common:

You can hear well, but have difficulty interpreting words / processing sound and understanding what people are saying (auditory processing difficulties)

You have synesthesia (sensory crossover - tasting sound, hearing sound, tasting colors, colors for letters and numbers, spatial locations for days of the week or months, there are many types)

You have little empathy and have trouble connecting with others' feelings

Alternatively, you have a lot of empathy, more than the average person, and you feel others' feelings very intensely

You have been diagnosed with ADHD (commonly comorbid + also often misdiagnosed instead of autism, especially in girls)

You have poor coordination, either in gross motor skills, tasks like sports, not bumping into things etc., and fine motor skills, handwriting etc., if this is a particularly significant difficulty for you this may even be dyspraxia or dysgraphia, which have high comorbidity

You have very uneven skills, aka great difficulty in one area with great skill in another

You have difficulty with executive functions - planning, working/short term memory, organization, difficulty starting a task or switching tasks, difficulty following multiple directions (do this then this)

Alternatively, when you get focused on a task you can stay focused on one thing for hours and hours and be so sucked into it you notice nothing else

If you relate to a lot of these, that is definitely not a diagnosis, but you definitely might want to do some research. This is not a diagnostic list in any way. Informed self diagnosis should involve doing a lot of research and spending time in the community to see if you relate and feel like this explains you or this is where you fit in.

Good luck!

#Long #Long post #Autism #Autistic #actuallyautistic #undiagnosed autism #ASD

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blossom-hwa · 3 years ago

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Light the Pyres |Strike| - SUNGYOON

Based off the Burn It mv? Yeah I know it was like five months ago but whatever. Writing this honestly hurt me so I’m sorry if you’re reading it <3

(But no, really. This is a heavier and bloodier story. If this isn’t for you, please don’t read!)

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, death, side character commits suicide (no mention of suicidal thoughts though), semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 3.8k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Strike >> Next: Light

Golden Child Masterlist

“It’s insane, isn’t it?” You pace around your dorm. “I can’t believe it went so wrong. Not to say that I ever agreed with the testing in the first place, but –”

“I know.” Your mother sighs into the phone. “Anyone would’ve thought such a project would be handled carefully, no? It’s a miracle anyone survived at all.”

You sit on the edge of your bed. “I’m just glad you’re safe,” you say. “When I heard the shaking could be felt even from home…”

She laughs, soft and gentle in a way that sends a pleasant warmth tickling down your spine. God, you love hearing your mother’s laugh. “I’m fine, Y/N.” You can almost hear the smile in her voice. “I appreciate you checking in on me, but I’m perfectly fine. We had a few tremors, that’s all. No one is hurt.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” You smile. “I have to go to class now, but stay safe, okay? I’ll see you this winter break, I promise.”

“I’m counting the days, darling. I love you and miss you.”

“Same here, Mom.”

You press your head against the car window as Daeyeol speeds down the empty highway. It’s been months since that call, months since the test bomb failed, mutating the few who survived into flesh-eating shades of their human selves.

Of course, no one knew it then. The survivors were rushed to a nearby hospital for treatment and when they first woke up, there were no signs of abnormality besides some slightly shrunken pupils.

Then veins blackened, skin paled, and they attacked.

One infected hospital turned into an entire city. The few who managed to escape tried to spread the news, but no one believed them. Only a couple of the smallest news outlets, looking for a good scoop, related the stories of the shaking survivors of what they called a zombie apocalypse. Unbelievable, right?

Not so much when one zombie made its way into an otherwise healthy city and began biting people in full daylight.

Only a few states away, your mother was living her life when the government imposed a strict lockdown. No one was to leave their home. Certain stores would be open on certain days, and blocks would be allowed to shop at certain times. Otherwise, stay at home and do not go outside.

She called you that day and every day after until communications shut off. On the other side of the country, you panicked when your calls stopped going through, when your texts only rebounded with an “unable to send – try again” message that made you want to smash your phone against the ground.

Until several days later, in the middle of a class no one was paying attention to, she picked up.

Your professor doesn’t even blink an eye as you run out of the room, already halfway to tears. “Oh my God, Mom –”

“Darling, we don’t have time.” You can hear the cracks in her voice. “So many cities nearby have been overrun already, and we can’t use internet or even power anymore because we need to conserve. I don’t know how your call managed to go through.”

“I thought you were dead.” You slide to the floor, back pressed against the wall as you try hard not to cry. “Mom, I –”

“No, I’m alive.” She laughs, but there’s a frightened edge to it that you’ve never heard before. It feels like being doused with cold water, horrible – your mother, the woman who raised you so fearlessly in the wake of her husband’s death, is scared.

You can barely comprehend it.

“I’m alive, Y/N.” A tiny sniffle on the other end. “I just want you to know that I love you very much. I always will.”

“I love you too, Mom.” A tear trickles down your face. “I love you. I’m going to come for you, okay? I’ll come. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll come for you.”

No reply. You look down at your phone, only to realize the call’s disconnected with no way for you to know how much your mother heard of your last words.

You haven’t been able to call her since, not with her power completely cut off and your university going on lockdown just a couple of weeks later. But it doesn’t matter. When rumors that a wave of flesh-eating non-humans was going to hit your city soon, you rented a car with Daeyeol and set off for home, driving in a direction from where no zombies had come.

You’re pretty sure the rental owner knew you had no intention of returning the car, judging from the thin press of his lips as you handed over your card. He softened, though, when you slid into the driver’s seat. “Good luck,” he’d said.

That bit of luck seems to have paid off. After weeks of alternately walking and driving, weeks of crippling paranoia and sudden attacks, neither you nor Daeyeol has been bitten. You might be dehydrated, half-starved, and ready to collapse at any given moment, but at least you have no shrunken pupils, no blackened veins, and no hunger for flesh.

Daeyeol’s voice cuts through the car tires jostling on the road. “All right?”

“Mm.” You nod slightly, head still pressed against the window. A tiny smirk widens your cracked lips. “Still alive.”

It’s morbid. So many people you know or knew have died, probably more than you realize, so it maybe isn’t the best move to joke about being alive. But it makes Daeyeol smile, even if it’s more of a smirk than a real smile, and after everything that’s happened, you both need a reason to laugh every so often.

“Same here,” he says, words cracking slightly with disuse. His voice used to be smooth, sweet with his singer’s tones, but it’s all faded over days and weeks of silence.

Don’t exactly want to attract a horde of zombies for the sake of a bit of song.

His voice breaks you out of depressing thoughts again. “Get some sleep,” he says, glancing over. “We’ll stop at sundown.”

“Cool.” You stretch slightly, yawning. “I guess I’ll drive through the night?”

“If we don’t break down by then.” As if on cue, the motor sputters, nearly launching you forward, but thankfully, the car doesn’t stop just yet. Daeyeol sighs. “Halfway there,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Halfway there,” you echo as another faded highway sign flashes past. After nearly two months of travel, you’re over halfway home.

You let that thought comfort you into an uneasy sleep.

. . . . .

“Shit.”

You wake up to Daeyeol’s curse and the sputtering sound of the engine. He’s gone off the highway since you fell asleep, now trying to start the choking car on a street in what looks like it used to be a city. As you blink the sleep out of your eyes, he presses down on the accelerator, hard. The car jerks forward for a second, then stops.

Daeyeol groans. “We didn’t even make it to sundown.”

Sure enough, the sun still hasn’t fallen. From the beat up watch on your wrist, you estimate an hour or so before dark. Probably enough time to try and take a crack at fixing the engine or whatever’s gone wrong with the car.

“I’ll take a look.” You rub your eyes. “See if it’s something I can fix. Stay close, I might need your help.”

After years of growing up beside your mechanic mother, mechanical engineering was a no-brainer when you entered university. Since then, your technical skills have grown a little rusty when it comes to repairing cars (hey, not a lot of people drove around your college town), but in the months after the explosion, you’ve had to relearn those skills fast.

You don’t dare roll up your sleeves, not even in the heat of the afternoon sun and the warmth radiating off the engine. If a zombie comes out of nowhere, your layers are the only chance of surviving a bite.

Wincing at the memory of your first close call, you start poking around the engine. It isn’t smoking, which is good, but something rattles when you tap at it with a wrench.

Great.

Sweat pours down your face as you fiddle around with the engine. A few bolts are loose – how you didn’t notice when you first took the car, you don’t know – but you tighten them carefully as the sun sinks lower in the sky. “Hopefully that’s it,” you mutter before pulling the hood down. Even in such an empty place, the small thunk makes you flinch, looking around for zombies to come pouring out of nowhere.

Nothing happens. You sigh in relief, plucking the keys from Daeyeol’s hand. “Let’s see if it works.”

It does. After an initial sputtering, the car moves forward. Reflexes keep your mouth shut before you can whoop, but you settle for a satisfied sigh as you beckon Daeyeol into the car, his eyes smiling in a way that’s become rare in the past month.

Then –

A shout.

A bang.

You freeze, one hand on the wheel.

Gunshots.

Daeyeol’s already opening his door, eyes wide with worry as someone screams and the familiar sound of dead groaning fills the air. “Come on,” he says, his tone booking no room for argument. “Let’s go.”

He’s too kind. Too selfless. As you run behind him, pulling out the gun holstered at your own waist, you try to push down the urge to drag him back to the car and just drive away from the growing screams and groans.

But Daeyeol is your best friend, one of your two last anchors to his barren earth. You may not have the same selfless streak that he does, but you’ll follow him into danger and watch his back if it’s the last thing you do.

Someone like Daeyeol deserves that much and more.

Following the noise, you sprint between two buildings, tall and dirty and abandoned. Broken glass crunches under your feet as you turn a corner –

And come face to face with black veins and white faces, pupils shrunken in death.

Whirling away from bloody, grasping hands, you club the first zombie over the head with the butt of your gun. It falls. Bang. Dead. You twist around the mass of stilted limbs and race after Daeyeol, yelling for him to slow down as you run into the fray.

Bang. Bang bang bang. Gunshots lead you into a space between four buildings where the ground opens up to reveal what probably was a subway. A horde of zombies claws at a tall bus stranded in the square, a lone man standing on top.

Him. Your eyes zero in on the tall figure, gun in hand that he aims at the zombies. There are too many, though, even if there don’t seem to be more coming.

Daeyeol scrambles on top of an abandoned car. You quickly follow. The man hasn’t caught sight of you just yet, still focused on avoiding zombies that get too close. There’s only a matter of time before they sense your presence and start chasing you instead.

Think. Think!

“You pick them off,” you gasp. “Pick them off from here.”

He nods. “Watch the back. Help me if I run out.”

You turn around. Back to back, you raise your guns, aim, and begin to fire.

Your gunshots and the allure of more meat turn deadened eyes and bloody mouths your way. Trampling over their shot companions, they lurch over to your car, stumbler closer even as you pick them away.

One. Two. Three. Each of your last thirteen bullets has to make a difference. Gritting your teeth against the smell of rotting flesh that still makes you gag even after so many weeks on the road, you shoot down another zombie that’s gotten too close and lock eyes with the man still standing on the bus roof.

The horde has thinned. The groaning has decreased. Zombies still claw at the roof, but if he jumps far enough and runs fast enough, he’ll make it.

“JUMP!” you scream, another bullet embedding itself into a head caked in dried blood. Three bullets left. “NOW!”

An uncertain glance. Daeyeol shoots away another clawing hand and glares at his still figure. “JUMP!”

He jumps.

Lands.

Pitches onto the ground.

Not far enough.

Zombies lurch forward, rotting arms reaching for the man who’s still scrambling to stand. You want to scream. He isn’t going to make it, all of this was for nothing, you’ve wasted ten bullets – eleven, now, as another tears into a zombie head – on a rescue mission that’s going to fail –

Daeyeol jumps down from the car and fires a last shot that goes haywire before grabbing the man and literally dragging him forward, narrowly missing a lurching zombie.

“DAEYEOL!” You jump from the car, kicking away a clawing hand. “YOU FUCKING IDIOT –”

He begins to turn, helping the man stumble forward. Something’s happened to his leg. Your eyebrows furrow – God, you’re going to have words with Daeyeol about putting himself in unnecessary danger when you all are out of this – as you grab at one of the stranger’s arms, dragging him across the bloody square.

All facing the same direction, none of you notice several leftover zombies creeping up from behind.

Daeyeol yells. His hand releases the stranger’s wrist and you watch in disbelief as skeletal, bloody hands drag him backward.

You scream. Fingers fumble for your gun that still has two rounds left, two rounds, more than enough –

But Daeyeol is already staring in disbelief at the blood seeping through a prominent bite mark on the top of his arm that’s beginning to turn black.

No.

No!

Letting go of the stranger with a shriek, you raise both hands and shoot away the zombie still hanging onto Daeyeol’s shoulder. But you have only one bullet left in your gun and there are several zombies lurching towards you and it doesn’t even matter because Daeyeol’s been bitten, you’ve made it halfway home already and he’s been bitten –

Disbelieving eyes meet yours. Something crumbles in his expression and in his gaze you see everything – pain, horror, care, love, determination, resolve.

“Go,” he chokes, stepping backward directly into the path of the remaining undead. “Go!”

Tears blur your vision. “Daeyeol –”

“TAKE HIM AND GO!”

Dimly, you register a hand closing around your trembling wrist, dragging you back, away from your best friend of over twenty years, away from one of your last anchors to life. Gunshots tear through the air and you blink in time to see two of the zombies fall, Daeyeol gritting his teeth as he pulls the trigger on his gun again. And again.

He locks eyes with you once more. His gaze shines with twenty years of friendship and memories as he steps backward over and over, luring the last zombies away.

His instructions pound through your head. Go. Go. Take him and go.

Take him and go!

Your mind screams to stay but your body turns traitor, latching onto the stranger’s arm and stumbling between buildings, back in the direction of the car. He doesn’t move fast but you drag him along, shoes crunching glass and bricks and dried blood.

Something turns your head back in time for the last shot. It doesn’t split a zombie’s skull.

Instead, you watch the muzzle of Daeyeol’s gun fall away from his temple as he collapses to the ground.

Dead.

Dead. Dead. Your best friend is dead. Dead. Dead. Daeyeol is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead dead dead dead your best friend is dead dead dead Daeyeol’s dead dead dead he’s dead dead dead dead dead he’s DEAD HE’S DEAD –

With a burst of strength you didn’t know you had, you haul the stranger forward to the car still parked on the street. Tossing open the passenger door, you shove him in, then throw yourself into the driver’s seat.

You jam the key into the ignition, turn it and hear the engine sputter to life. Instinct alone moves your limbs, foot pressing down on the gas, hands clenching the wheel so hard your knuckles burn.

Tears stream down your face as you drive into the setting sun.

. . . . .

The car dies ten miles down the road. Far enough to escape straggling zombies.

Not far enough to escape bloody memories.

You curse loudly, slamming a hand on the steering wheel as if it’ll do anything (it won’t. You don’t need two degrees in mechanical engineering to have that measure of common fucking sense). Next to you, the boy remains quiet, barely looking over as you hit the wheel again. And again.

It doesn’t bring Daeyeol back.

Still, you give the steering wheel one more whack before throwing open the car door to kick the vehicle in the side once. Twice.

“Don’t injure yourself.”

Ah. So he speaks. Mystery boy’s voice is a little higher than you expected. If you’d met him before the apocalypse, you might even say it was smooth. Nice. Like a singer’s.

Like Daeyeol’s.

You kick the car a third time, insides writhing.

And you hate it.

It’s irrational, of course, fully irrational. He hasn’t done anything to earn your anger. It’s probably not his fault he got cornered by a horde of zombies. It definitely isn’t his fault Daeyeol has – had – Jesus Christ, you can’t think of him in the past tense, your knees are already going wobbly and the tears are coming again – a stupid selfless streak that ultimately got him killed –

But how dare he speak. How dare he use his voice to warn you not to injure yourself when Daeyeol is the one who should be sitting there saying that. Daeyeol should be the one telling you to take care of yourself when the anger, the stress, the sheer enormity of the world and your own insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe start getting to your head.

If this boy hadn’t been in trouble, Daeyeol would still be here. He’d be here, alive, and though you’d still be stuck ten miles down the fucking road, at least he wouldn’t be dead. Dead because he sacrificed himself for a guy caught in the middle of a zombie horde on top of a fucking bus whom neither of you even knows.

With the last of your strength, you slam the car door shut before you say something you’ll regret. Sinking down on the dirty, empty highway, you close your eyes and take a shuddering breath.

You don’t cry. You just sit there, eyes staring into the darkness of your closed lids. There’s no telling how much time passes until a car door opens and shuts.

There’s a soft grunt. A gasp of pain. Then a presence settles itself on your side of the car, hovering over your still body.

Your fists clench. Unclench. It’s not his fault. Not his fault. Not his fault, not his fault, not his fault –

You open your eyes to stare flatly at the boy standing over you. “Yes?”

He flinches. It must have come out more accusatory than you wanted. You don’t do anything, though, only stare as he keeps standing, leg shifting awkwardly.

Not shifting. You lower your gaze, narrowing your eyes at his trembling limbs. Your mind flashes back to him jumping off the bus, the noise with which he landed, the way he was limping slightly as first Daeyeol, then you dragged him away.

He’s injured. No bones broken since he can still support his weight, but maybe a fracture. Something you don’t have the capacity to heal with anything but time.

Time that you don’t have.

“I…” He swallows. “I wanted to thank you. For helping – saving me.”

For some reason, that rubs you the wrong way.

“Don’t thank me.” Your voice slices the air, bitterly caustic. “Thank my friend. He’s the one who wanted to help.” You look away. “You know, the one who’s dead.”

He flinches again, hard enough to stumble backward. Only the car keeps him from falling over. A pang of guilt hits at your sharp words, but anger and grief for Daeyeol keep it at bay. “You can stay the night,” you say, still averting your gaze. “Take the backseat. Not like I’ll be driving any fucking further.” You stand and kick the car again, this time leaving a dent in the rusty metal. “Gonna have to go back to walking…”

Walking.

Your mouth goes dry.

This is the first time you’ll be walking alone. No Daeyeol to watch your back, no knowledge that someone who’s known you for over twenty years will be at your side. That’s gone, all of it. Gone with his death.

The thought ices your veins. You just want to curl into a ball and cry. But that’s not an option, not with this mystery boy enclosed in the same space as you, so you just throw open the door and slide back inside. He follows a little more cautiously, gingerly entering the car and closing his door softly before sitting in the back.

You sigh. “Close it fully.”

He blinks up at you in the grimy rearview mirror.

“Close the door fully,” you snap. “If a zombie manages to get in because you didn’t close it properly, we’re both fucked.”

It stings a little to be so rude, especially when he only opens the door again like you said and shuts it with more force. But nothing changes the fact that Daeyeol died for him, a person he didn’t even know, and that this boy is the reason why Daeyeol isn’t sitting next to you in the passenger seat, his silent, familiar presence comforting you into sleep.

A tear blinks out of your closed eyes. Why? you want to scream. Why did he do it? Why did he always want to help everybody, even if he knew it might come at the cost of his own life?

You know the answer. Humanity. Daeyeol told you every time you asked, every time you had another brush with death to save anyone you could. He had to keep faith, had to believe that there was something, anything he could do to alleviate some of the pain brought on by this tragedy.

It’s why you always admired him, were so loyal to him from the day you two first became friends in elementary school. Daeyeol always believed in strength that comes from kindness, believed in helping those who couldn’t always help themselves. It’s why you always followed him into the fight, regardless of how much you wanted to shove him back in the car and just drive away.

Bitterness lodges in a lump in your throat.

So much for humanity when all that kindness just got him killed.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for Daeyeol’s soul :/)

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thyrell · 4 years ago

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So I'm planning on becoming a welder, as I've just graduated high school. Any advice? Even the most basic stuff will help.

FINDING A SCHOOL:

- its way easier to get into trade school than you'd usually expect, if you just look for technical colleges in your area you'll probably have pretty solid luck. if money's tight check their tuitions but training for careers like welding is typically really cheap

- I've heard apprenticeships are also a good option but I don't really know much about those, so you'll want to do your own research on that.

- seriously though technical colleges can be cheap, as I've mentioned before I'm paying less than $70/mo for classes and I expect to be done in less than half a year

EQUIPMENT:

- BUY THE EXPENSIVE SHIT ON A WEBSITE LIKE CYBERWELD.COM. NOT FUCKING AMAZON. YOU WILL SAVE SO MUCH MONEY. MY HELMET WAS LOW $200s ON THAT WEBSITE. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN OVER $300 ON AMAZON.

- you're gonna want a good pair of welding gloves. they're pretty cheap, so it shouldn't be hard to get your hands on them.

- if you have $200 to drop on a quality helmet, do it. seriously, at a technical college course they'll probably have loaners. they probably won't be very comfortable. the lens quality on them will probably not be great, and being able to actually see what I'm doing helped me tremendously. goes without saying that you should try classes first, see if you like welding or see it as a viable long-term career, and then buy a helmet, but if/when you decide to commit to it as a career don't skimp on that.

- if money's tight, there are good helmets under $100, but read the reviews before buying. also please for the love of fucking god don't buy one of the shitty 30 dollar ones.

- first thing they teach you in safety training is to avoid wearing flammable/baggy clothing or light fabrics. get yourself a pair of jeans and a good jacket. i wear black skinny jeans and a black leather jacket because I love edgy fashion, but normal jeans and a denim jacket will work too. ill respect you more if you take the goth route though

ONCE YOU GET IN:

- youre probably not gonna start off Good At Welding, it's not as easy as it sounds, but it's also not as hard as some people will tell you. chances are your welds are gonna look like shit at first, and lots of instructors will probably tell you so. don't take that as a sign that you'll never be good at it, it really just takes practice!

- being a good welder doesn't take a steady hand. people told me that a lot, and it seems like the kind of career that would require really good fine motor skills but...I definitely don't have those, and I'm still doing well. don't get discouraged if you got shaky hands.

- you're gonna get metal gunk on the tip of your weld gun. if the shop you're training in doesn't have a pair of whelpers (welders pliers) for you to clean it with, get your own. if you don't clean the gunk off your weld gun when you're done with it you're fucking dead to me.

- you're probably gonna learn a lot more than just arc welding. the other shit is just as interesting so have fun with that.

important thing to know: welding is a really male-dominated and pretty right-leaning field. chances are your class is gonna be mostly dudes, and a lot of open republicans. don't let that shit discourage you, because this field needs more people who aren't like that.

#weldposting

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autistic-beshelar · 4 years ago

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Neurodivergent Link Headcanons (BOTW)

Here are... my headcanons for ND Link! I’ve tried to put them in fairly concise bullet points so hopefully they make sense. A lot of the autistic/adhd traits overlap, but I’ve put them in separate sections just to try and make this easier to read

Headcanons under the cut!

Autism:

- sensory seeking! Link needs constant stimulation and his preferred sensory input is touch, whether it’s rubbing his palms over tree bark or smushing his face in soft pillows. Auditory and visual stimulation are good too, but he’s very, very tactile. Of course taste is another big thing for him, he loves cooking and trying out new food and exploring different tastes, whether it’s sweet or spicy or sour, the stronger the better.

- he stims. SO MUCH. he has so many stims that I’m going to make a separate post to include all of them, but the main ones are rocking and flapping his hands.

- very good with gross motor skills, generally good with fine motor skills but there are a select few he struggles with - he has very poor handwriting, has to focus tying shoelaces, struggles washing his hair, overestimates how hard he’s brushing his teeth and makes his gums bleed

- poor interoception. Has a hard time telling when he’s hungry, or tired, or in pain. Sometimes he will walk around with an injury and not realise until he sees blood. Finds it hard to recognise negative sensations and his body tends to just interpret them as discomfort.

- very good at recognising and deciphering expressions and body language, but not particularly good at (or interested in) emulating it. He’s very astute and can pick up on microexpressions and hidden glances and the like, and can work out people’s true feelings or motivations, but in a social context he’s not necessarily good at responding to it.

- easily picks up on small details and notices things others don’t - this can be related to the former point, but also just in general. Also very good at pattern recognition which lends itself well to solving shrines.

- nonverbal. Mostly uses sign to communicate, or noises (usually with animals or people he’s comfortable with). Can occasionally manage to speak in short bursts when he has to, but it’s few words and usually stuttered, and if he gets at all stressed (which he often does if he’s forced to talk) he won’t be able to say much of anything. He can talk a little around Sidon and Zelda, they’re pretty much the only he feels comfortable enough to be verbal with, and they understand the way he talks and are patient when he’s slow or gets words mixed up.

- difficulty with eye contact. Either too little or too much, though usually it’s the former. He only tends to stare at people if he likes them, or if he’s angry with them or trying to make them uncomfortable

- echo echo lalia. Loves to repeat fun noises, especially animal noises, but sometimes words (sees a dog and just goes doggy doggy doggy doggy doggy for the next hour). He does this with sign as well, but tends to prefer making fun mouth sounds

- special interests in food and horses! Those twins at the stable were right. That’s all that’s on his mind. Food and horses. He really loves trying out new ingredient combinations and exploring different tastes. And he knows a great many horse facts.

- forms connections with animals more easily than with people. This is partly because when he first left the Shrine of Resurrection he was alone in the wilderness, and partly because he doesn’t really talk, but it’s also just an autism thing. People are friendly to him, but he doesn’t tend to form deep connections with them like he does with animals.

- can tell the time by the position of the sun in the sky but can’t read a clock. What are those numbers on the slate. It’s a mystery!

- has mild visual processing issues, mostly struggles to focus on things like screens or pages, things look blurry or strangely coloured, or have a weird overlay.

ADHD:

- inattentive AND hyperactive AND impulsive, a triple threat

- gets the Zoomies. Often ends up conking out afterwards. Will run around chasing frogs all day and then just fall asleep in the middle of a field

- Can’t Stay Still. Has To Bounce Leg.

- nonexistent sleep schedule. Granted, he doesn’t sleep well or regularly what with travelling all over Hyrule, but even without that his sleep would be terrible

- sometimes zones out in the middle of a conversation. Good luck guessing whether he’s having a seizure or if he’s just thinking really hard about jellyfish

- alternatively, he will hyperfocus. Very good at hyperfocusing on shrines, or anything that involves challenges. Also good at hyperfocusing on physical activities.

- executive functioning… what’s that. Link doesn’t know. Link can’t organise to save his life and honestly thank god for the sheikah slate because without it he’d be screwed. Cannot schedule, cannot plan, cannot organise.

- thrillseeking!!! He gets easily understimulated and needs adrenaline to survive. Will do anything remotely dangerous for fun and profit.

- often thinks very quickly, usually jumping quickly from one thing to the next, but only about certain subjects (usually related to animals, nature, food, chaotic activities) and usually when he’s full of adrenaline. Although other times, especially when he’s tired, it’s just. Dial up noises. Head empty

- focus juice… for mentally taxing activites? Nonexistent.

Expressive language disorder:

(It used to be separated into receptive language disorder, expressive language disorder, or mixed, but these days it’s lumped together into developmental language disorder. However I use expressive language disorder for link because he specifically only has problems with expressive language (forming his own words) and not receptive language (understanding other people’s words)).

- gets words in the wrong order

- sometimes replaces a word with something else, especially if the signs are similar

- has difficulty with tenses (more so in verbal speech)

- often misses out words completely

- has quite a large vocabulary, but struggles with word recall. Will sometimes remember the word he meant to use hours later

- often flaps his hands in an attempt to remember a word, if he can’t think of it he will try to find an alternative

- c a n n o t s p e l l. Sometimes when he doesn’t know the sign for something, he’ll try to fingerspell it, but if the word is hard to spell he’ll try and find an alternative

- finds sign much easier than spoken language, because its grammatical structure (particularly how it uses tenses and combines language with muscle memory) is simpler to use for him, and because it’s so expressive he finds it easier to get his point across

- his language disorder is a part of why he’s nonverbal (as well as that he has a bit of a stutter), so signing in general is just much easier, though not everyone knows sign, and he isn’t fluent himself.

Epilepsy:

- has temporal lobe epilepsy

- mostly gets absence seizures and focal seizures

- absence seizures (essentially his brain ‘switching off’) are his more common ones. They usually only last a couple of seconds, and tend to look like he’s just distracted or zoning out (which he also does because of ADHD), though sometimes his eyelids will flicker, or if he’s walking or doing something he’ll suddenly stop, and go back to it like nothing happened. He isn’t aware of them at all. If they happen during something like a conversation with someone, he’ll just dismiss it as being distracted, though he does start to notice when he has longer absences and misses whole sentences, or has clusters of absences.

- focal aware seizures (auras) usually present as deja-vu, intense fear, or out of body feelings. He doesn’t realise they’re seizures for a while, since he experiences these anyway, and attributes the deja-vu to the memory loss, but eventually learns to tell them apart because his auras tend to come on very suddenly, though they can last a while

- he also gets focal impaired awareness ones, which tend to happen more when he’s very tired, especially when waking up/going to sleep. When he gets auras he’s still completely aware of his surroundings (and usually doesn’t have trouble moving, unless it’s a particularly bad one), but with impaired awareness he gets drowsy and confused, and won’t understand what people are saying

- usually his focal seizures stay just that, but sometimes they will become tonic-clonic seizures. This is usually only when he’s exhausted/injured/extremely stressed/otherwise worn down. Most of the time his auras come on soon enough to warn him he might have a worse seizure, so he can go somewhere safe (at least, once he realises he’s epileptic

- they’re arguably the mildest, but his absence seizures at the most dangerous, even though they’re usually short, because he gets no warning for them. He usually gets them a couple of times a day (especially waking up/going to sleep), but he gets them more frequently if he’s very tired, and if he gets absence clusters it makes it really hard to do anything.

- his main triggers are sleep deprivation, missing meals, extreme stress, and extreme heat. Which is unfortunate considering he spends his time running around Hyrule on no sleep and forgets to eat all the time.

in conclusion link is neurodivergent and i love him. thank u for ur time pls feel free to comment ur opinions and headcanons etc

#link #breath of the wild #the legend of zelda #also for context i am autistic + adhd #if u have epilepsy or a language disorder and i got anything wrong/said anything problematic here pls lmk!#mmm this took a long time to write bc i dont have brain cellsss #is rebloggable!#simply do not clown if u are not ND thank u #kokiri chatter

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honeypirate · 4 years ago

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Superpowers I Like

An ongoing list of superpowers i like. most from superpower wiki, the stuff in () are my thoughts, the rest from the website’s linked. sometimes powerlisting changes the names so if the link doesnt work let me know ad i’ll update.

Let me know if you use any and tag me in the fics you write!

Geometric Physiology

Transform yourself or objects into any shape

Universal Irreversibility

Ability to render an action impossible to be stopped, blocked, manipulated, and reversed

Talpidae Physiology

can mimic/transform into talpids, including the moles, shrew moles, desmans, and other intermediate forms of small insectivorous mammals.

Earth Weaponry

can create or wield weaponry with power over earth, which grants the user a wide variety of earth-based abilities

Transcendent Demonic Mage Physiology

The power to use the abilities of demon of godly arcane powers.

Tooth Fairy Physiology

Can transform into and perform acts the tooth fairy does. (Rip out the teeth of your enemies. control every tooth in the room. could also be strengthened to control bone? maybe?)

Psychic Food Manipulation

The ability to manipulate psychic food/edible substances. (technically, animals are edible, people technically.. like this has so much room for creativity)

Contact Force Defiance

can ignore contact forces, forces that require contact with something, like a surface of the ground or an object. They can defy contact forces and not need to make contact with the surface, or interact with objects from a distance without touching them. Like magnets that don’t want to touch.

Life Connection

User is connected to any/all life and living things, so that as long as they exists life does as well. This allows them to have both an emotional and spiritual link to every form of life, so if the target feels pain or is injured all living things would feel the same pain and/or possibly gain the same wounds as the user. If the user ever dies or is killed then life itself may cease to exist as well. Reader needs a bodyguard??

Fine Interaction

The user can interact with anything that that is microscopic, no matter how small it may be, allowing the user to interact with them as if they were objects or surfaces, possibly even causing macroscopic effects if skilled. This can include viruses, diseases, microbes, atoms, molecules, particles, superstrings, etc. reader is a heart surgeon.

Snake Den

The user can project numerous snakes from their body to eject poison into the target, project snakes as projectiles to attack or otherwise send them to the target.

Chi Manipulation

The user can create, shape, and manipulate chi. By learning to harness this inner latent energy, they can gain superhuman capabilities and use them in cases of extreme combat. Some examples include physically manifesting all of their inner strength and unleashing it through sheer force of will

Dimensional Storage

The user can put items/beings into a separate dimension for safekeeping and can summon them back with relative ease.(I really like this one)

Liquid Transmutation

User can transform any/all liquids, whether organic or inorganic, into any other fluid/liquid and change a liquids inherent properties such as turning water into acid or even make something like soda poisonous. Any liquids transformed by this power would have all the properties of the liquid they become.

Replication

User can instantly and perfectly replicate themselves and/or targets which can be objects or living beings, numerous times, while usually being able to recombine the clones. Most users have both of these abilities (if subconsciously), copying their clothes/equipment along with their body. Original target will normally be able to maintain control over all copies.

Reactive Adaptation

Users can either instantly develop powers or abilities to deal with threats or their bodies dynamically learn from experience. Depending on the user's control of the power or genetic structure, the reactive effects can be permanent or temporary.

Self-Sustenance

Users physical needs are greatly reduced or completely removed. These needs include air/breathing, sleep/rest, food, drink, bodily evacuations, shelter from environmental effects and their lack (heat/cold, dryness/wetness), etc. The user is also able to stay immobile without the normal effects this would have.

Technology Manipulation

User can create, shape, and manipulate technology and technological constructs, computers, robots, hardware, and other devices that can be termed as "technology." Manifested as a special form of electrical/telekinetic manipulation, a special form of "morphing" which allows physical interaction with machines, or even a psychic ability that allows mental interface with computer data.

User can control the flow of intricate machinery, and assemble or disengage their programming at will and operate most technology at distance. A variation of Electricity Manipulation, they control specific electrons and instructs them which items to engage or disengage and may be able to use the electric impulses to gently control smaller metal parts

Matter Ingestion

The user can eat any substance without harmful effects, regardless of what they consume. They can consume matter in any form - solid, liquid or gas.

(maybe what they eat gives them energy, maybe like how Natsu can eat flames?)

Persuasion

can compel people by speaking, the victims are unable to disobey; the seemingly cogent commandment is far too compelling. At a high level, users can persuade people into hurting/killing themselves or even flip around sense of logic, but can never cause victims to achieve what they are not capable of.

(maybe user has to work up and strengthen it to be able to persuade peoples to do bigger things)

Anatomical Liberation

User can split their own body apart into pieces and control the said pieces however they wish, by levitating them away from the user's main body and using them as they were connected to the user.

User is immune to cutting and being slashed because they can just pull their bodies back together again. They can also remove their own organs without dying and will neither bleed to death nor die if their brain or heart is removed.

Omnilingualism.

User can speak, write, understand and communicate in any language, including computer codes, languages they have never been heard before, sign language (even lip-reading), illegible words, and backwards speech and writing with little or no training. The user may even communicate with non-human animals or read body language.

Item duplication

user is able to mimic and replicate the objects of others around oneself, and be able to use those objects as one's own.

Darkness Manipulation

User can create, shape and manipulate darkness and shadows. By itself, darkness is mostly used to cloud everything into total darkness, but by accessing a dimension of dark energy it can be channeled to a variety of effects, both as an absence of light and a solid substance: one can also control and manipulate the beings that exist there, create and dispel shields and areas of total darkness, create constructs and weapons, teleport one's self through massive distances via shadows, etc.

Density Manipulation

User can manipulate density, which is defined as mass per unit of volume. This allows them to alter solidity, change the size of substances, create or destroy matter/mass in a volume, change inertial resistance (mass), make things intangible, either strengthen or weaken gravity, concentrate or expand matter, or create pressure differences in a fluid (gas, liquid, plasma) to induce a current and possibly use it to move solids.

Some users might even be able to control electrical charge density, which is the amount of electric charge per unit volume. This would, in turn, enable them to manipulate electromagnetic fields. Control over population density might also be possible for some users as well.

Luck

The user is gifted with an automatic and continuous supply of good luck, most have no control over this power as things considered "lucky" randomly and unexpectedly happens to them despite any predestined fate or logical reason. Ergo, nothing bad will happen or if it does, their power will sort it out no matter how impossible the situation is or how high the odds are against them, allowing the user to always be in complete context in whatever situation they are, be free to do as they please without consequences, and be untouched and ineffective to the laws of causality.

All aspects of user's life improve drastically: work, social, romantic, personal, financial, school, and basically life as a whole would become easier, happier, and would excel altogether.

Paralysis Inducement

Users can immobilize the target completely or partially, causing them to be left without movement and sensation. Making motor functions and muscle movement unavailable, the victim may freeze on the spot or crumple to the ground.

Pain Infliction

Pain Infliction is the ability to inflict horrible pain on others with the mind. It is triggered by pointing one's hand at a target, who will be overwhelmed with pain. The pain is described as a thousand tiny blades stabbing the brain. The pain will instantly vanish once the user loses concentration.

Prehensile Muscles

User can make their muscles stretch/extend and hold/manipulate objects like an extra limb. (could be like tendrils)

Liquid Mimicry

user can morph their body into a liquid state, is made up of or can transform their body completely into liquid substances. A user's transformed form is anatomically identical to their normal form, aside of being made of liquid, in which case it contains all to organs and is somewhat vulnerable to attacks. Alternately the user can transform into homogeneous matter, without any part of their form being more important than the other.

Animal Morphing

User with this ability either is or can transform into animals, whether partially or completely, as well as use the abilities, traits and appearance/physiology of animals by rearranging their own DNA structure. They are able to transform into animals that exist, alien animals and/or animals that are extinct, such as Dinosaurs.

User may have this ability from an empty genetic code, allowing them to accept any form from which they have a DNA sample, others may be able to alter their form mentally and change just by seeing and mimicking animal features.

Life-Force Absorption

The user can absorb life-force/energy, vitality and health, while removing it from the source, into their body and use it in various ways, gaining some form of advantage, either by enhancing themselves, gaining the drained power, using it as power source etc., either temporarily or permanently.

Weapon Hands

User can transform parts of their body to form a weapon of their choice onto their hands and forearms, possibly their biceps, triceps, and shoulders.

Vision Manipulation

The user has complete control over the vision of oneself and others. They can enhance, reduce or remove them temporarily or permanently, protect them from being overwhelmed, cause the target to see things that aren't there or prevent them from seeing things that are, cause/remove sensory ailments, etc.

Tactile Teleportation

User can teleport objects and/or beings through physical contact, the user can transfer them to any location they desire as long their in physical contact with the object/being

Disease Manipulation

The user can create, manipulate, shape, transform, cause/heal, etc. all forms of diseases, including their severity, contagiousness, methods of spreading, etc. They can control the organisms that spread diseases, including germs, bacteria, virus, or other pathogens on a cellular level, including bacteriophages, microorganisms (microscopic organisms), retroviruses, cells that abnormally grow to make cancerous tumors and cysts, and pathogens that produce genetic mutations

Morality Manipulation

The user can manipulate morality, making people ethically good or immorally evil by psychically kindling the targets’ minds so that they succumb to the voice of truth or to the urge of sin. The victim may feel the calling of the Almighty or some other cosmic force of good or succumb to all inner sins. The effect may expire, but that may be years after the evocations.

Dream Manipulation

User can create, shape, enter and manipulate the dreams of oneself and others, including modifying, suppressing, fabricating, influencing, manifesting, sensing, and observing dreams as well as nightmares, daydreams, etc., possibly including past ones. They can produce and modify dreams, bestow nightmares or lucid dreaming, entrap people in REM, and promote spiritual/emotional healing within dreams.

In some cases, user's power extends to the real world, such as wounds inflicted on a sleeping victim, healed damage (mental or physical) affecting the physical form, and other wise blurring the line between waking and dream. They may be able to pull someone from the waking world into the dream world or brings people/things from the dream world into the waking world.

#superpower list #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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silverhandy · 4 years ago

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Verbatim

read on ao3!

Summary: Having climbed all the way up from Heywood’s slums to Miyabi, one of the most high end casinos in Night City, Santiago "Sanny" Garcia thought himself a lucky man, right until the point when his employer, an Arasaka board member with a gambling business on the side, caught him stealing and offered an impossible ultimatum. Forced to pay off his debt or die trying, Sanny has to renew some old friendships and form some new ones to keep himself afloat.

On top of everything, when his cyberware starts malfunctioning, there’s only one person on his long contact list that he can call.

“Where’s your Trauma platinum when you need it, pendejo?”

“Kicking a man when he’s down? Never expected that from you” Sanny groaned, burying his face in a pillow. He’d give anything for the world to stop spinning, just for a second. Faced with a heavy silence, he cracked one eye open to see Maria’s disgruntled expression on the holo. “It got revoked, okay? I’m literally begging here.”

“You're not,” she replied, the frown still not leaving her face. Sanny could swear at least some part of her was enjoying it. “At least not yet.”

“C’mon, hermana. I’m-” before he could finish that sentence, he was cut off by another wave of nausea strong arming its way through him. He barely had the chance to haul himself over the edge of the bed to vomit into the bucket he put there, anything to avoid ruining his ridiculously expensive, silk sheets.

Sanny could practically feel Maria’s judging stare on him as she got a front row seat on her brother puking his brains out. He understood her, in a way - their last conversation wasn’t exactly a pleasant one. Maybe he went a little overboard with his bragging. Still, she was his only sibling that still kept in touch with him, all the rest a step away from declaring him a total stranger.

As he wiped his mouth, desperate to get rid of the bitter taste of bile, he entertained the thought of apologizing to her. Was that his new low? At the mercy of his older sister? Certainly not a position he thought he’d find himself in, not after he decided to say goodbye to Heywood for good. She had every right to resent him just as the rest of the family did, but despite it all, they still kept in contact. A sporadic, passive aggressive contact, but a contact nevertheless.

She let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. You’re lucky my day freed up, otherwise you’d have to call some other sorry fucker. Text me the address, I’ll be there in an hour, maybe two.”

“Two hours? You for real?”

“Don’t push your luck, Santiago.”

***

“That ripperdoc of yours, how reliable is he?”

“He knows his stuff. Just bear in mind he doesn’t usually take on corpos.”

“Not a corpo.” Sanny mumbled, resting his forehead on the cold glass of the passenger's window.

“You sure as hell look like one” she replied, not taking her eyes off the road.

“When in Rome, do as Romans do…”

The car hit a bump, making Sanny smack his head against the glass. An explosion of pain followed as an array of angrily white stars danced in front of his vision, sprinkled with not less alarming system failure warnings. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Maria did that on purpose, but she wasn’t responsible for the state of the neighborhood's roads. Not directly, at least.

“We’re here.” Maria’s voice snapped him out of his stupor. Some time must’ve passed because when he opened his eyes they were parked on the edge of a wide, busy street, various shops, and nightclubs drawing customers in with their loud neons and whatever else they had to offer. Luckily for Sanny, they didn’t have to walk all the way through it, loud sounds and aggressively bright lights coming at him from all directions, mercilessly aggravating his headache before they turned the corner and walked through the gate leading to a small, crumpled backyard. Maria led him down another set of stairs to an unlabeled basement, one of those places you needed to know were there to find them.

“Hey Vik!'' she said as she passed the gate to the underground clinic, walking in as if she owned the place. Sanny followed behind, his usual confidence shrinking. If what Maria said was true, there was a real chance that the ripperdoc would turn him away and he doubted he had the resolve to drag himself to another one. Suddenly Fukuzawa’s offer of a bullet to the head seemed much more appealing.

When the ripperdoc turned his head towards them, a warm smile appeared on his face as his eyes landed on Maria. Tossing the screwdriver he’d been holding aside, he got up to greet her, though Sanny could tell he was eyeing him over her shoulder as well. He couldn’t blame him - he probably looked like a breathing trainwreck.

“Hey, good to see you.” the ripper said to Maria. “So you must be Sanny?” he asked, suddenly shifting his attention to the younger man, extending a muscular arm towards him. The ripper was built like a fucking truck and Mal could feel his mouth go dry, and only partially because he must be severely dehydrated at this point. Suddenly regretting that he didn’t at least take a shower before Maria came to pick him up, he took a step forward to shake the man’s hand.

“That’s me.” Sanny smiled nervously, his paled face twitching with the effort.

“Viktor Vector’s the name. Heard a lot about you.”

“Oh yeah?” Sanny could hear his voice cracking, mind racing at all the things Maria could possibly say about him while in her ripper’s chair. There were many and only a few made Sanny proud of himself.

“I’ll leave you boys to chat. Don’t want no part in this.” Maria said, a crooked smile on her face. “I’ll wait in the car. Vik, feel free to add this to my tab.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

And just like that, she left him there. Great.

“Alright, let’s get you seated, don’t want you to crack your head open if you fall.” Sanny heard Viktor say. Too busy trying to keep down the few sips of water he got before leaving the apartment, he didn’t even notice how his silhouette started to sway to the side, only stopped by the ripperdoc’s strong arm on his shoulder, steadying him and gently ushering him in the direction of the chair.

Looking back, the whole thing couldn’t have happened to him at a worse time, shortly after he got dropped from the Trauma Team health plan, his regular ripper bidding him farewell with an apologetic smile, even taking a step further to wish him luck. So much for the Hippocratic oath. Sanny watched silently as Viktor kicked himself a chair and sat down to fire up the monitors, typing away at the beat up keyboard until eventually, he reached out a hand.

“Your personal link, please.”

“‘f course” Sunny mumbled, handing him the cable and watching as the doc jacked it into the port, on the first try even. Must be the practice, Sanny thought and allowed his head to rest on the headboard, the blue leather cracking slightly as Viktor started running diagnostics on his cyberware.

“That’s an impressive set you got there”

If he wasn’t feeling so damn miserable, he'd smirk. Impressive was an understatement, with his array of the state of the art cyberware, from behavioral boosters to those refining his fine motor skills to a point he was practically a magician with a deck of cards. Or a lockpick, but he was yet to get desperate enough to give that career path a try.

“My job has its perks.”

“You a croupier at Miyabi?” it seemed that Viktor was rather keen on small talk, a quality that Sanny didn’t quite share, but hesitantly welcomed.

“Figured it out from my tech or did my sister tell you?”

“Bit of both, I suppose.”

Jacked and insightful. What more could Sanny possibly want? Then again, it wasn’t a time in his life for romantic pursuits, both this specific moment, lying sick on the ripperdoc’s chair and in a broader sense, when he had a figurative gun to his head, a literal one soon to follow if he doesn’t resolve the mess he got himself into.

“Other than dizziness, anything else bothering you?

“Uh,” Sanny turned his head to look at the other man. There were many things bothering him and most had little to do with his current physical condition. “I haven't been able to keep anything down for a few days now. Not even the damn pills for the headache. Running self diagnostics didn’t spit out anything useful either.”

Viktor’s brows furrowed as he shot the younger man a glance from behind his shades. Disapproval? Concern?

“It’s been this bad and you’re only now seeing a ripper?”

“Maria told you where I work but didn’t share why I’m visiting a back alley doctor? How considerate.”

“You guys don’t get along too well, huh?” Sanny frowned at the direction this conversation was going, but there was nothing he could do but enjoy the ride.

“It’s...an on and off thing between us.” he just mumbled, desperate to avoid Viktor’s gaze. Lucky for Sanny, the ripper’s attention seemed to be entirely on the monitors in front of him.

“Just remember, kid,” Viktor said, finally turning to look at Sanny’s face. “she cares about you a lot. Wouldn’t bring you here if she didn’t.”

Sanny just hummed in response. Deep down, he knew the ripper was right, but the whole exchange only made him even more curious about what exactly Maria had been saying about him. It couldn’t be half as bad as he thought he deserved because not only had Viktor not kicked him out of the chair, but was even nice to him. Go figure.

“Alright then,” Viktor said, unplugging the younger man’s personal link. “had to do some cleaning in your CPU, you should be up and running in a few hours. Take this before going to bed for the night,” a strip of pills was placed in his hand “and in the future, watch what you plug your personal link into. I know you guys working in high end casinos get a fancy firewall as part of the package, but it’s not foolproof.

“It sure ain’t, doc. Thanks for the advice,” Sanny smiled, motioning to get up from the chair. “and everything else.”

Whatever Viktor did, the effect was immediate; the clinic was no longer swaying and his stomach didn’t threaten to twist itself inside out every time he moved his head. He still felt like he was experiencing a crescendo of the worst hangover of his life, but it was nothing that couldn’t be managed with a shower and a fresh change of clothes. Who knows, he might even get bold and eat something, though he still wasn’t sure about that one.

“Don’t mention it, I don’t often get the chance to tinker with Miyabi tech. And if you’re open to some more pieces of advice, you should be thanking your sister, not me.”

“I’ll make sure to do just that.”

“Should you run into more trouble with software, my clinic’s always open. I’ll send you the number, so don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

Did he just…? No fucking way, Sanny thought as he walked up the stairs, leaving the clinic behind.

***

“So...how’re the Valentinos treatin’ you?”

“Actually, I…puta madre!” she shouted, blasting her hand against the car’s horn as she slammed the brakes to make her disdain loud and clear to the driver who tried to cut her off at the intersection. A litany of insults from the would-be culprit followed, another sound in a cacophony of Heywood’s streets. Maria shook her head, dark locks of her hair shaking with the movement like a swarm of angry bees. “I left.”

“And here I was thinking the position of the family’s black sheep was already taken.”

“Don’t ever think you’re the special one just because you shuffle cards for the big guys.”

“Oh, I could never. So what do you do now?”

“Independent. It took a while, but a friend got me hooked up with some reliable fixers.”

“A “friend”? Don’t tell me that on top of everything, you got yourself a man. Or a woman?”

Maria shot him a warning glare. “It’s nothing like that. Jackie just helped me get back on my feet, introduced me to some people. I’ve been fending for myself since then.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“Way better than for you. The hell did you do to piss off your corporate overlords?”

“All I can say for now is that you can leave Heywood, but Heywood never leaves you. Took one too many risks and all it did was land me before the one and only Akio Fukuzawa, who apparently doesn’t take kindly to humbled employees when his eddies are missing.”

“And yet here you are, still alive.”

“What can I say? I’m a charming guy.”

They spent the rest of the car ride in silence, Maria’s eyes fixed on the road, maroon painted nails tapping on the steering wheel in the rhythm of whatever was playing on the radio while Sanny pretended to be mesmerized by whatever they were passing on their way, in reality pulling up his comms interface to scroll through all the text messages he sent to fixers before the damn virus made it impossible to see straight. Almost all of them were left on read and unanswered. Sanny presumed they were bound to remain so. He didn’t have the reputation necessary to land any of the bigger contracts and no time to build it up before Fukuzawa’s minions showed up on his doorstep.

They parked in front of his building, mere centimeters away from bumping into a lampost. Sanny choked down a sigh. There was no escaping it now.

“Thanks, hermana. I owe you one,” he uttered, motioning to get out of the car. Just as he pushed the door open, his comms chimed with a text message from an unknown number. Getting out of the car, he waved to dismiss it, thinking it must be another of those spam chains that’d been flooding his inbox from time to time, but froze halfway through when his eyes landed on the text. The contract was vague on details, but the reward was crystal clear. Sanny could almost feel his jaw dropping as he looked at the impressive number of zeros that followed the first digit. It should be enough. More than enough to pay Fukuzawa off, even if, as per the fixer’s demand, he’ll have to cut the amount in half and share with a partner. He was so dumbfounded he didn’t hear Maria’s reply, or if she replied at all, but when he turned back one last time, she was eying him from head to toe suspiciously. Then she just shook her head slightly as if shushing away a thought.

“And Sanny?” she said, rolling down her window and shooting him a glare from behind her shades. “don’t you dare fuck my ripperdoc.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk #cp2077 #cp77 #cyberpunk oc #Viktor Vector #cyberpunk fic #my writing #moxwrites2077

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Arriving

Grant Baldwin pushed back the curtain and looked out over the cabin. The students were mostly sleeping, covered in blankets, eyes closed, snoring quietly. A few were awake and looked up at him expectantly, but he shook his head and smiled, giving a dismissive wave to indicate that all was well. It was his habit to check up on the people he was leading and it comforted him to see how relaxed they were.

He ducked back into the front quarters, a spacious area meant to serve as his mobile office. It was sparse and utilitarian. The large chair had a bright double monitor mounted right into the bulkhead. He sat down and leaned back, staring at the desktop screen and double clicked a file that read SSS.

He took a deep breath and double clicked.

EVAs voice greeted him.

The file contained a two JPEGs. One of a smiling young man and the other of a jeweled box, an artifact of Dragonkind.

“An archeology student by chance stumbled upon items related to dragons. Since we had access to the site through this student, the Chancellor decided to allow the collection of this item on the condition that it be handed over to the school. However, the collection was interrupted and the artifact was stolen. The archeologist was killed.”

Grant’s grey eyes narrowed in indignation. “He involved an outsider?”

“He was already involved, he just didn’t know it.” EVA corrected him. “This jeweled box contains an item pertaining to the King of Sky and Wind. Shortly after the disappearance of this item, the weather anomaly you are investigating appeared.”

Grant examined the jeweled box carefully memorizing its appearance. It was wooden but overlaid with fine gold. The latch was composed of two twining serpents. In the center of the lid was a bright red jewel.

“Your mission is to destroy any dragonkind you find, including the Dragon Lord if it awakens and to hunt down those responsible. Be cautious. We suspect the smugglers are Deadpool. They could be anyone. Therefore, we did not tell you of the theft of the object until now. As far as everyone is concerned, this is a dragonslaying mission only. They have no knowledge of the theft. This file will automatically delete itself in three seconds. Good luck. And Happy Birthday.”

Grant sighed in embarrassment but he couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

Grant’s rise to the executive department came without warning. Professor Schneider had led the department for decades and was like a lighthouse guiding the school through the rough waters following the death of Principal Anjou. He taught that when standing before a dragon, one cannot think of retreat. Even if all one had on hand was a rusty dagger, one had to charge forward and cut up the beast from the inside.

That fearlessness made the man seem immortal. His death was like a nightmare that was never supposed to come true. In an instant, he was gone.

Unbeknownst to everyone, he had been grooming Grant to take over for him and left in his final message his decision to appoint Grant Baldwin as executive department lead.

Those who had ambitions to head the department themselves vigorously protested, finally settling on his youth as the primary reason why he had no business helming a centuries old institution. Thanks to his physical deformity and serious demeanor no one knew who young Professor Scheider was. Grant took a cue from him.

Today was his 28th birthday, but no one except EVA knew that. His name was Mr. Baldwin. Only Von Frings could get away with calling him Grant.

Baldwin reached over and turned off the monitor.

Behind the curtain more of the students began to wake up. Brian opened his eyes and looked out over the plane wing at the dark sky and the black ocean beneath. The plane looked like it was flying in nothing but the Void. He turned to his seat mate who had his eyes covered with a face mask, completely relaxed. He managed to only get a short bit of sleep before his worry over Ru’Yi and this mission drove his eyes open.

“You only have an hour left to try… probably less.” he said.

The mask-wearer turned his head to him and grumbled. “Less. We’re flying with a tail wind. We’re probably going to feel the landing gear drop any minute.” He lifted his face mask.

His name was Aaron Carson and Brian and he had been classmates from the beginning. He was one of the few people who immediately felt comfortable around him despite his tough guy exterior, that’s why when Brian was upset with Ru’Yi he could gently tease him without much fear of any retribution.

“Ever been on an aircraft carrier before?”

“No,” Aaron sighed, “You?”

“Yeah, briefly. They’re floating military bases. I imagine this one is going to be armed to the teeth with dragonslaying weapons. It’ll be worth taking a look at the kit.”

“Yeah maybe. I was thinking more along the lines of getting to know the West Africa Branch. We don’t get a lot of opportunities to talk with them. I heard they’ve got unique alchemical knowledge.”

“It’s unique because they don’t share it.”

“We’re supposed to be working together though! Just the slightest observation is better than nothing.”

“I think you’re optimistic. The West Africa Branch never shared much and hasn’t so much as sent an email to headquarters since Anjou died.”

“Then how do you think they got in on this mission then?”

Brian shrugged and shook his head. He was never concerned much with the social aspects of missions. Even if he did find some sort of big Alchemical secret, could he even use it? It was better to let the departments handle their business internally and only share what was necessary.

“Feel free to ask questions,” he told him. “Then I’ll mourn you when you find out that they gave you the recipe for some sort of death potion.”

“We’re all on the same team!” Aaron whispered. “Why can’t you remember that?”

Brian took a deep breath and let it out, gazing out the window. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Aaron stared at him. He remembered the young man who walked onto campus like someone who had been on a desert island all his life. He had no friends, no real family line, no social skills, but he knew how to survive and that’s how he went about college life. Aaron meanwhile tagged along to give him reasons to socialize and meet people. As time went by, he noticed that Brian was always in survival mode even when the situation didn’t warrant it, but now he could tell that something real was eating at him. From the take-off until now, he’d stared out the window, frowning.

“Don’t apologize. Tell me what’s eating at you? Do you know something?”

“I have a really bad feeling. Really bad.”

Aaron nodded. “In that case, I’ve got your back. We can hang out together.”

Just then, the flaps beneath the plane opened, sending a loud thump through the passenger cabin. The motorized whir of the wheels lowering woke everyone. Turned out that they weren’t sleeping or were only sleeping lightly. Like dogs trained to a whistle, every student sat upright, eyes alert, looking around.

Brian turned his head to where Ru’Yi was seated. Her eyes were still closed.

#Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Class of 2032

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hyperthrust · 4 years ago

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Uhmm......what colour betta fish would kk have. what does he like 2 read. what does he do in his spare time ? what sort of music does he like best ( does he have a favourite vinyl/cassette/cd? if so what is it?) what's his greatest regret? who does he consider his best friend? in return i offer you him

Him!,, ummm kk would have v bright betta if he could, preferably ones reflecting those he is close to (if he can take care of their fish then good luck is in the person’s path).

he likes to read anything he can get his hands on rly and is fascinated by historical accounts and memoirs, the gang once found a box of old newspapers in the basement of a house (or what was left of it), they were dated between 1987 and 2004. it took a while to figure out the links but after combing the print, they all contained articles written by m. harvey, must’ve once been their home. this really sparked his interest in those eras of technology, the birth and boom of console gaming, satellite tv, reclining chairs, telephones becoming portable and commonplace, shoes with wheels!! really turned him into an avid technician of box computers and static screens.

his spare time consists of fine work, hard with shaking hands but he once found an article of how the first people to set up wiring in computers were knitters since they had the fine motor skills. he considers it a duty to learn the craft. he gets frustrated but reminds himself that he doesn’t have to be fast for this, that a better job is done slow and accurately, and it can be undone and tried again. the gang sometimes pick up knitting magazines when they can find them.

he really loves the old school jazz and blues from the 50s and 60s, but keeps it under wraps because of the 50s household ideal of BLI, and also because he’s a sap and doesn’t wanna show it. his favourite song of that genre is probably sinnerman or nights in white satin. he enjoys a pretty wide variety around the diner, the loud rock and punk and the real kickstarters for the subcultures. only thing he can’t stand is high street fashion style pop, he finds it almost robotic, following a formula to maximise sales. much prefers his soul. he loves casettes, his favourite is a mixtape of the first songs he and poison heard in the zones, kt took them months to track down all the names and artists.

his greatest regret is not getting out sooner than he did, but it would’ve cost him a lot of opportunities and relationships and thinking back, he may not have made it.

kobra does not like picking favourites, if anyone asked, he would say Dr D. those two share an interesting bond and seem to connect on an almost telepathic level.

#killjoy asks #kobra kid #killjoys #long post #flamingcreature

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transitverse · 4 years ago

Text

Eggshells: Chapter 9

WORDS: 2011 CHAPTERS: 9/9 CHARACTERS: Aubrey, Kaveh CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Soundtrack: Great No One - The Beths

Aubrey ends up staying with you for six weeks. You do swing by her apartment briefly, once, just to make sure everything's still in order (as best as she left it) and nobody's wrecked the place (they haven't). It feels weird, the day she packs all her stuff up for good, knowing as you drive her home that she won't be going back with you. You'll miss having her around.

Her absence has not made her room any less of a trash hole. While Aubrey seems happy to be back in her own space, dumping her bag by the bed and flopping onto the mattress, you find yourself eyeing the stacks of empty food packaging, the discarded clothing strewn across the floor, the fact that her bed is still just a mattress on the bare ground. Not a lot you can do about that last one, but you can certainly help with the first two.

"We should clean this place up a little." You're already picking up a bunch of plastic bottles, scanning the room for a bin only to grimace when you open it and find it already jammed full. You'd put money on her not having emptied it since she moved in. "Okay, so, from the top, then. You've got garbage bags, right?"

You look back at Aubrey, who's eyeing you from her spot on the bed.

"You don't have to help me clean."

"No, but I want to. Aubrey, this place is kind of a tip.” She looks no less convinced. “Trust me. This is how you get a rat problem. And you'll feel better being in a tidy room."

She stares at you a few seconds more, but then sighs, accepting--as she's come to so often--that you're talking sense. "Okay. Sure. They're in the drawer, there, on the end."

She's got a lot of trash, but thankfully, by virtue of her eating habits, it’s not gross to have to deal with. You swap the old bag out, and clearing away what's left around the room only takes a matter of minutes. Clothes come next, and it's almost as easy. She doesn't have a laundry basket, but she doesn’t really have a lot of clothes, either; it all fits into a single garbage bag, ready to haul downstairs. With that done, all that's left is the actual cleaning. The place is lived-in , and there's some grime that you're never going to be able to scrub away, but you can fix the dust and cobwebs and some of the surface-level dirt.

Or, you could, if Aubrey had any cleaning supplies.

She’s uncertain where to even begin, when you have her in the home supplies aisle at the nearest supermarket; admittedly, you expect the rows upon rows of neon bottles with their flashy labels would be daunting to face for someone who grew up in a dysfunctional household where these things weren't a priority. You walk her through the basic necessities, arm yourselves, and head back home to tackle your prime objective.

Cleaning one single, relatively small room with minimal furnishings is a manageable task, at least. A vacuum would be great, but you do an okay job with a good old-fashioned broom and dust catchers. The bathroom takes a little more work, and you almost freak out about Aubrey giving herself chemical burns until she points out the obvious. Still, it’s a big improvement all-round. Aubrey is flagging by the end of it, but you can’t blame her; she’s not done anything remotely strenuous for the entire time she’s been with you.

“I think it’s time to eat,” you announce, propping the broom up against the nearest wall. (Note to self: get her some hooks or something to hang this stuff on.) “God, you know what? I would kill for some ramen right now.”

“I thought you didn’t like that stuff.”

“Wh--Oh, no, no, like, real ramen. Good ramen,” you laugh. “I mean, you can jazz up the instant stuff in a pinch, but if you want good ramen, you make it from scratch.” You glance over your shoulder at her unused kitchen, then back at Aubrey. “Okay, we should go get that laundry out, but if I run out and get the ingredients, can I whip something up here?”

“Sure. Can I come with you?”

“What, like I’d leave you waiting around on your own? Yeah, of course. C’mon.”

***

A visit to the dingy basement laundry room and another quick sweep around the supermarket later, and you’re back in the apartment, dumping your shopping haul down on the counter and poking around in the cupboards for the necessary cooking equipment. Fortunately, Aubrey does have a few pots and pans, and a small set of knives and other utensils, so you put some water on to boil and get to work.

“Can I help?”

You glance up at Aubrey, hovering a few feet away.

“Sure. Here.” You scoot on over towards the stove and hand her the knife you were about to start chopping up spring onions with. “If you wanna start chopping these up--pretty small--and then you can do the chillies and the onion.”

“Like--” She makes the first cut at the base, then hovers the knife uncertainly a little further up the stalk. “Like this?”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

It’s like the affirmation flips a switch. While you’re busy slinging oil into a pan and mixing the broth, Aubrey chops away with a deftness you didn’t expect from someone with so little experience in a kitchen. An added benefit of her sharp reflexes, maybe. Or perhaps those cybernetics offer her more control over her fine motor skills. Either way, you soon forget about it, too busy focusing on seasoning the indistinct slab of vat-grown beef you drop into the pan to sear and adding the noodles to the broth.

It’s cramped, with the two of you operating in a kitchen space half the size of the one back at your apartment, but you manage, explaining along the way all the little tricks you know to jazz up instant noodles with cheaper ingredients, should the mood ever strike her. Aubrey nicks herself, once, but it’s worse for the knife than it is for her finger.

Eventually, you’re all done, plated up, and just overseeing Aubrey as she peels the shells away from the boiled eggs and carefully slices them in half.

“Wait, wait,” you stop her, as she moves to drop the first egg into the bowl. “One half of each in each bowl.”

“Why?”

You… laugh, because you realise nobody’s ever actually asked you about this habit before, and now you feel a little bit silly.

“It’s just a thing my mom used to do. She said it was good luck to share them, something like that.”

Aubrey scrunches her face up. “Why?”

“I don’t know! She just did. C’mon, just do it. I’m hungry.”

Aubrey still looks unconvinced, but she obliges and splits both eggs between the bowls. And with that, you’re all done; you carefully carry the fruits of your labour to the coffee table, seated on pillows in lieu of chairs.

“Well, this turned out to be a pretty good day, huh?” You’re already spearing a chunk of meat on your fork, jamming some greens on the end and trying (unsuccessfully) to catch some noodles to top it off as you lift it up out of the bowl.

“Yeah. It was.” Aubrey smiles, even though she’s pushing her meal around in the bowl like she doesn’t really know where to start with it. Eventually, she goes for the egg. She nearly drips the yolk down herself and you have to try really hard not to laugh, lest you choke on your own mouthful.

“Good?” you ask, once you’ve swallowed and are no longer at risk of aspirating. “Or, I mean--as good as it can be for you, I guess.”

“No, it’s… yeah. It’s good.” She nods and wipes some of the stray yolk off her lip. “It smells amazing.”

“I’ll take that.” You chuckle, without almost dying, this time. “This is almost, like, a housewarming. A couple months late, but close enough. Are you gonna, y’know, get some more furniture in here?”

“I don’t know. I guess I should, now.” Aubrey slowly, methodically twirls a bundle of noodles around her fork. “I just didn’t think it mattered yet, because I wouldn’t be, like--having guests, or anything.”

You pause, for a moment, and watch her while you process how sad that actually sounds.

“Well, if you ever need anyone to do any heavy lifting, you know who to call,” you reply, once you’ve recovered, flashing her a grin. “If you ever need… anything, actually, you should let me know. I’m not a miracle-worker, but I’ll always see what I can do.”

She glances back up at you again, covering her mouth with the back of her hand in an attempt not to lose the mouthful of noodles she’s working through.

"You don't have to do that for me."

"No. But I want to." You look at her, pointedly, from across the table. "You don't have to do everything in life alone. You're allowed to ask for help."

Aubrey just nods and pushes her food around in her bowl again. Your first instinct is to push the matter, but your second is to drop it. She heard you the first time. She knows what you said. She'll process it at her own pace.

"Are you still gonna come and see me?" she asks, after a minute, glancing up at you.

"What? Of course. " If you were within arm's reach you'd be tempted to ruffle her hair. "Just, y'know, drop me a line, or I'll see when I'm free after work, or if I have a day off. We can… I don't know. We can do whatever you want." You can see a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah. Okay."

You chat idly over the rest of dinner, and as you do the dishes together. It really drives home how domestic the pair of you have gotten, and so rapidly. You almost don’t want to leave, even as you’re standing in the doorway for her to see you out.

“Look after yourself, okay?” You move to hug her, and only barely resist the urge to pick her right up off the ground. “You know how to reach me, if you need anything.”

“Yeah.” The way she looks up at you as you separate--she’s a changed woman from the ragged, exhausted bundle of nerves you took home from the hospital just weeks ago. “And you’ll come and see me soon, right?

“I will, if I can. I’ll try my best. I promise. And if I can’t, I’ll see you when you have your physical.”

“Yeah. Okay.” She nods, looks down, looks up again. “Thank you. For… everything. Letting me stay with you, and taking me to all these appointments, and--the cleaning, and--”

“Hey, hey. C’mon.” She’s tearing up as you reach out to rub her shoulder. “It’s okay. I just… wanted to help. I’m glad I could.” Aubrey just wraps her arms around your waist and shoves herself up against your side. You have to hug her back. You can’t not.

You might be getting a little teary yourself.

You separate for good, this time, as she finally peels herself off of you and steps back over the threshold, into the apartment.

“Sorry. I just--”

“It’s okay. Go on, go enjoy being back in your own place. I’ll see you soon, alright?"

“Okay. Yeah. See you soon.”

“Bye, Aubrey. Have a good night.”

“Bye.”

You hear the door squeak on its hinges and then click shut as you turn away. You make your way back down through the building (via the stairs; you do not trust that elevator), and cross the parking lot back to your car.

It’s been a crazy month. You never expected that such an innocuous offer would have landed you here.

But, ultimately?

You’re glad it did.

She’s a good kid.

She’ll be alright.

#lost in transit #eggshells #side story #complete #aubrey #kaveh

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mohartproductions · 4 years ago

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Why Am I still Here?

Ever since I was in Middle School there were so many things I wanted to be; at first I wanted to be a zoologist or paleontologist, then I shifted my interests towards animation, comics, voice acting and music making and singing. I always had dreams of bringing back hand-drawn animation in theaters, or at least helping to create some new animated shows I could assist on as an additional animator, character designer, or a writer or producer. But my Middle-School and High School never truly taught me, and me specifically.

I thought maybe I'd have better luck in college, but college just expected me to do the work, and if I don't get passing grades I can't get the degree I need to find the job I'm looking for.

I spent the last ten years of my life in college, mainly focusing on trying to do assignments and making them as best as I possibly can while sacrificing time I could've invested in my own personal projects, and maintaining a healthy life because of my neurodeficiency. I've been diagnosed with Aspergers Syndome since I was 3, and I had a hard time performing well in school ever since. And I may or may not have ADD or ADHD, which could also explain why I have such a hard time focusing and performing tasks well; tasks like reading, writing, even riding a bike. I also can't seem to properly control some of my motor skills, including how I talk: a monotone, nasally voice with a limited range which hampers any attempts I have with singing or acting out loud.

All the while I was surrounded by kids, teens, and young adults who were almost always better than me in every way: They're all smart, talented, athletic, beautiful, and have plenty of friends and even some romantic partners, while I'm almost always behind. Turns out, as someone in real life proposed, some of my animation peers specifically turned out so well because they actually got involved in summer programs back in California, Florida, or Chicago, which gave them a head start. Meanwhile I'm at a disadvantage cause I have to learn one on one, but I hadn't gotten that until recently, and now I don't even have hands on tutors because of this global pandemic, so now I'm struggling at home trying to figure out how to do things right for classes I'm not even interested in because I need those points for my graduation plan just to find a job that does interest me.

But you know what... I honestly believe now that I'll never get the career I want. I always wanted to start a career in animation, comic book art, writing, singing or voice acting while I'm still young, at least in my early 20s; just like Alex Hirsch and Rebecca Sugar have, and all the time I look at people on youtube like Brian Hull and Markiplier who all have started successful careers online, and some of them have even started working in television themselves like Cristina Valenzuela has.

They're all smart, beautiful, healthy, and incredibly talented and people love them for their talents; and meanwhile I'm still an obscure artist on Deviantart who's own artwork is still subpar, has not finished any stories I wanted to write, not even a pilot for any of the shows I want to make, which I make not even make anyway because The Owl House exists now, which is already just like the Diary of Aviril, which was my idea I wanted to make.

I could've invested more into voice acting as an alternative, but my voice still sucks, I still lack the proper recording equipment or environment for it, and for the last 2 or three years my grandma moved into my house which made it hard for me to do any sessions, let alone move into the room where I could've turned into a studio.

It just seems like every year I'm thrown with more and more crap that makes it harder for me to achieve my dream; neurodeficiencies, time mismanagement, inadequate work environments and educational methods, family issues, traffic, politics, economics, urban environments, and now a pandemic.

I wasted ten years of my life, ten years of my youth trying to obtain something I possibly might not even have anyway. I feel like I've been working for nothing. I want to give up, but if I do then all that time, energy, and resources I spent would be for nothing anyway. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't.

I want to go back in time, tell my younger self as a little kid about my future; and all the things I want him/me to do and not do so I could make life much better for me and my family now. I should already be proving myself useful, I should already be happy making a career with the things I love doing, but now I'm even starting to dislike drawing altogether because of just how mediocre I am and will never improve on anything.

Damnit if I can't have the life I want to live, why the hell am I still here?! I'm past 27 now, still unemployed, still thin as a twig with bags underneath my eyes, still trying to earn something. I'm a mad dog chasing cars.

I don't know what else to do, and I don't know if I can do it alone. I can't keep relying on my family to pay for me, I honestly feel like a burden to them, still living with my parents, doing most of my work in a messy living room I use for a studio, still feeling bad they work so hard while I'm leeching off of them, while nearly everyone else is fairing better and have careers going for them. I can't stop hating myself, the world I live, and the life I was born into.

I tried being positive, I even tried helping people myself, but more and more the effort I put keeps coming all for not, and every time I try to convince myself that life is good and so are people, the world finds new ways of proving me wrong. I feel like my life is controlled by a bunch of monkeys in a typewriter room, or Destiny of the Endless from Neil Gaiman's Sandman. I can't support myself, I can't focus, I can't do things most other people seem to do fine on their own. I'm lost, and I can never go back. I think wheezer said it best: I may as well enjoy my life and watch the stars play...

#life #life sucks #why do i exist #existential anxiety #autism #aspergers #add #adhd #neurodivergencies #flash animation #voice acting #career #dream job #depression

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thewritingamateur · 4 years ago

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Ford vs. Lewis: King of the Unions

This was an assignment for my class making a situation between different historical figures discussing social issues. Mine was Henry Ford and John L.Lewis. I hope you all enjoy!!

~~~

There was nothing better than drinking a hot cup of coffee at the end of the day, at least that was what John L. Lewis thought after another CIO conference. Times were tough, and with the growing hostile environment between workers and employers, Lewis had to work twice as hard to preserve the workers' rights. As he ordered his coffee in a small secluded diner, Lewis pondered upon what he would have to anticipate at the table. It was merely a few nights before when he got a call about meeting with an important figure-head, more surprising hearing it had to deal with a line of work he recently began to help. He was accustomed to leading strikes for coalminers and skilled workers, helping with the union laws, not necessarily talking with businessmen casually. As he was receiving his long-awaited coffee, there was a grunt not too far from him. Seeing who it was, John got up to give a proper greeting. “Good evening Mr. Ford. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Though it was more burden than a pleasure, he was curious about what they would discuss together.

Henry Ford surprised himself a few days ago when having the idea to have a meeting with John L. Lewis. Ford saw him a few times on the cover of TIME magazine. He was a piece of work some consider innovative. Since the change of events in the country during the last decade, Ford was on his last leg. Ever since he started the Ford assembly line, Henry was successful in providing his workers with money and accessibly to afford what they help make keeping the rise of a union obsolete. Sadly, with the turn of the economy, President Roosevelt signed a new law into order. The National Labor Relations Act in 1935 helped workers to create unions. Ford would admit that his practices weren’t the best, but at the end of the day, the workers met the status quo. The environment in the factories lately has become much more hostile, many of the antics becoming violent. Recently, his company dove into hot water due to an altercation with UWA organizers. Ford knew he had to make a decision, so he came to the best at this, John L. Lewis. When Ford shook his hand, he was not surprised at how firm it was. Like himself, Lewis meant business. Maybe he was hoping Ford would change his mind about how he felt towards unions.

Nothing would ever change his view.

Both men sat down in the corner booth, making sure nobody would recognize either. Mr. Ford himself ordered coffee, and when it came, proceeded to add in some whiskey he carried around in a flask. He offered some to Lewis, but he declined.

“Mr. Ford, for what do I owe you the honor today?” Mr. Ford gave a small chuckle, “So straight to business, huh? I like a man like that. See, Mr. Lewis, with all that is happening with my company as of late, I realize I need to rethink some choices I made. The biggest one being about my workers. Seeing the economy and how I cannot afford to give my workers as much as I used to, I need to find another way to help my business reach back to the top spot. The only way to do that is by giving my workers what they want, a union, something I refuse to do.”

Mr. Lewis tried to listen without interruption since he was known for his no-nonsense attitude. He understood Ford was an important man, but it did not give him a right to stop his workers from receiving the best benefits.

“Mr.Ford, with all due respect, if there is anything you should know about me,” Lewis cleared his throat before continuing, “ I have pleaded (labor’s) case, not in the quavering tones of a feeble mendicant asking alms, but in the thundering voice of the captain of a mighty host, demanding the rights to which free men are entitled.” (A Giant Among Labor Leaders, 3).

“Quite frankly, sir, I do not intend on doing anything less than persuading you to try and support the union organization, if not for the sake of the workers, then your own company.”

Mr. Ford wished to say he was taken aback, but he heard about Lewis’ approach. “Don’t you remember where your father came from, working among those you offend?”

Now it was talking like this that made Ford’s blood boil.

“How dare you bring up my father! He has nothing to do with my company nor how I run it. This tactic of sympathizing may have worked on Governor Murphy, but not on me.”

He gave out a harsh breath before continuing, “Don’t you think I tried? I want people to afford my product, or else I would never have made everything affordable while increasing the pay of my workers. I will not be ashamed in saying that yes, the work conditions are not the best, but I did try to look out for people the best way I can without hurting my business.”

“At the price of what, people having riots and the federal government forcing you to take a step back? Do you not see how this is tearing down your company? You are currently third in the automobile industry, and there is a reason! General Motors agreed to work with us and look at how well their sales have been since!”

Lewis looked around before finding a newspaper, which conveniently has his picture on the cover. “I am not a man to trifle with Ford. Look at what these people say about me. ‘There was method in Lewis's florid style beyond the compulsions of his colossal ego. He judged the average union worker wanted a man who could stand toe to toe with the big business tycoons. He was ruthless, cunning, opportunistic’ (Harold Evans). Let me help you, Ford.”

There was a hostile silence between the two men, neither willing to surrender to the other. Finally, Ford decided to reveal his say. “Look here, Lewis. I have done my fair share of good for the middle class over the decades. I helped expand the non-existent middle class. With that said, this brings the reason as to why I wanted to see you today; I need you to help me.”

“And as I said before, the only way of doing that would be by forming a respectable union for your workers.”

Ford looked at the other man for a while before nodding. “Fine, tell me some things I would need to do, and how it would benefit me.”

Lewis nodded, knowing that he needed to do the right thing, even though many might criticize him for acting ‘casually’ with a man like Ford. “Alright, Ford, the first step is to publicly announce your willingness to work with the union. Compromise with the workers, give more benefits to their health and better work conditions.”

It was obvious in Ford’s eyes how discontented he was towards the process. “One thing you need to understand, Mr. Ford, is that a union benefits both the worker and employer.”

“Explain to me, Mr. Lewis, how does it benefit me? I have to spend more money on medical issues. I am not allowed to fire anyone without a specific reason, and if I do fire or layoff someone, I have to give them a grievance package. That, Mr. Lewis, is not what I consider a great deal. I will have to end up spending more money than before, and in this economy, that is not an exceptional choice to make.” Lewis sighed, hearing the businessman's words. It was this type of mentality which causes more ruckus than what is needed.

“Mr. Ford, despite you saying that you try to help out families the one way that would solidify your claim, you refuse to do. Think about these people who work for you. They need to provide for their families too.”

Though tired, Lewis was not going to stop until Ford heard him loud and clear.

“In the slump our economy is still going through, these families need it more than ever. Yes, it will cost more for you, but it will benefit everyone in the end. Would you rather keep on employing new workers when there are strikes or do this once and for all? Then, there would be no more strikes or any more ‘incidents’ like what happened with UWA.” It gave Lewis some triumph having to remind Ford of that incident, mostly to prove his point.

The only thing Ford could do was look Lewis in the eye, not daring to admit the slightest form of defeat. “I know what the workers have gone through. I was once like that myself, but here is the difference between us. I did whatever I could to reach the top, most of it being risks, hard work, and innovation. People like you, though, decided to stay put. You only want to hunt those who were able to get out, putting up with this mundane lifestyle. You seem to be a smart man, Lewis, but instead of using your mind to start something big, you waste it on some simpletons. I have done all I could, even if you say otherwise. This, is not a risk I want to take.”

After his monologue, Ford calls the waitress to get the bill.

“No, Ford, you are wrong. We are not different because of opportunity. We simply have a different set of morals. I may be more intelligent than other workers, but at least I use my smarts to help others like me rather than drive them down a hole for my gain.”

Lewis put whatever he owed for the coffee down on the table, not wanting Ford to think that he owed him something.

“Mark my words, Ford. If you do not try now, you and your company will regret it later on!” With those last words, Lewis walked out of the coffee shop with his head held high, at least he fought for what he believed in; if only Ford would listen.

Two years later, in 1940, John L. Lewis resigned from his role as CIO when President Roosevelt wins his third term. He then went to another union organization that helped out many coal miners. Ford, unfortunately, did not have the same luck as Lewis.

Ford’s decision to sign the union contract was not of his own doing. Though Henry Ford threatened to shut down his plants rather than sign with the UAW-CIO, he changed his position and signed a contract with the union on June 20. Ford’s change of heart was due to the urging of his wife, Clara, who feared that more riots and bloodshed would result from her husband’s refusal to work with the unions and threatened to leave him if he did not sign the contract (History.com). It would have all turned out better for Ford if he had tried harder to make amends with the union before it had gotten that bad.

In the end, Lewis was right. It was not about money. It was about helping others in a crisis.

If only Ford had listened that day.

Fin.

#historical #original writing #historical fiction #henry ford #ford #john l lewis #union workers #union rights #what ifs #debate #it was an assignment for undergrad #1930s #maybe one day I'll do this as a regular activity

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razorblade180 · 5 years ago

Text

Sunshower 6

The day after a party, everyone’s worse nightmare. Even with more to come indefinitely, faunus weren’t immune to the effects of partying too hard. Morning had finally kissed Menagerie and those with jobs were the first to witness or feel the shock of Blake’s Homecoming. Streets and houses were littered with festivities along with plenty of red solo cups. Officer’s were up first to deal with any passed out people that were anywhere but their home. All in all, the first night was a hit; people’s spirits seemed to be through the roof. The wave of pleasure was sure to carry over to tonight.

It didn’t take long for the outside world to start rousing people from sleep; including Ilia. Slowly her eyes open to the dim sunlight hitting them; doing no good for her massive hangover. Things are fuzzy. Not to mention.....aching? Common for downing five too many but this felt different. Since when does drinking hurt your legs? Her right hand rubbed the bridge of her nose as she tried to adjust to being being sober again.

Ilia:(Ugh, where am I? Did I......fall asleep? Am I still asleep? No, too much pain to be a dream. Even my own thoughts sound way too loud...) *rubs her temples*

Ilia:(Okay, if I can survive the white fang then I push through this hangover and open my eyes to the very, very bright lights. Easy as one.....two.....thre-

‘Zzzzzzzz’

Ilia:Was that.....snoring?

Her eyes opened one at a time to lessen the pain. It took a few seconds to see clearly but eventually she did; still, Ilia needed a minute to process what she saw. The interior design told her she was in Blake’s house. The room wasn’t really messy which told her no one had come in during the party. The only visible mess were clothes.....? Her clothes at that. Both hands shot up to her head to feel that her hair was down as well. Finally a gasp was let out as her mind was finally catching up.

Ilia:(I’m in Blake’s house still!!! Not just that, but naked two!? What the actual hell happened last night!!? Party, drank, drank some more, also cried I think? Then I got fresh air with-)

‘Zzzzzzzz’

Ilia:......

Everything in her entire body told her to not look to her left. Pieces of memories she kept recalling demanded to know if they were being remembered right however. Something Ilia knew she most likely was since it would be just her luck. Time felt like it stopped as she finally turned to see the source of the snoring. Sure enough, Sun laid peacefully next to her with his head facing away from her. His short was off and she could spot it near the foot of the bed; along with the rest of his clothes. Brown skin turned white from the shock as freckles went straight to pink from embarrassment. Sun Wukong was currently naked and sleeping next to her who is also naked but now completely awake. Even the hangover took a backseat to this dump of information.

Ilia:.........

Ilia:(Oh fuck.......)

The boy was motionless; almost unnerving motionless. A dark thought started to grow in her head so gently she pulled the cover about an inch down and listened to his heart. Ilia’s nerves weren’t calmed to discover that he sounded and looked find. Now she could focus on major crisis. Leaving. She slid herself out from the side of covers and nearly dropped to the wooden floor. Blaming only the hangover would be a lie for the state of her poor motor skills yet thinking of other reasons why moving was a chore lead to topics she didn’t want to address at the moment. One problem at a time. Right now she needed to be presentable. It took some time but she managed dress herself for the most part. The ponytail was neglected as well as the jacket she wore.

Full stealth mode was happening right now. Each foot gently went in front of the other as she watched him to make sure he was still asleep. There was something unusual about the way he slept that Ilia couldn’t figure out. Oh well. She’d think about it later. Right now she is just relieved to have reached the door knob. At least she was until it started twisting from the other side. Someone was coming in...

Ilia:(No no no no no no no!!!!!!!! Crap what do I-)

*door opens*

Kali:*whispering* Pssst Sun? It’s morn.....ing? Ilia?

Ilia:.......I can explain! Things got crazy and we weren’t thinking! I was dr-

Kali:*covers Ilia’s mouth* Relax, you look like you’re about to faint. I didn’t even know you were at the party. Guess I know why *looks at bed*

Ilia:Please don’t mention this to anyone.

Kali:I wouldn’t even dream of it sweetie. I can’t tell you how crazy parties got back in me and Ghira’s day. My lips are sealed. *steps aside*

Ilia wouldn’t call herself a religious person, but Kali had to be a gift from above. She couldn’t help but hug the older woman as she walked out the room.

Kali:Oh, one more thing.

Ilia:What?

Kali:Blake and Yang are passed out on the couch and Ghira is making coffee in the kitchen so......might wanna use the balcony.

Ilia:I’m getting real sick of that balcony. Thank you.

She made a hard right as soon as she entered the hallway towards the balcony. Ilia was starting to miss simply walking through a doorway. It was time to put her skills to the test. Carefully she hoisted herself up on the railing and looked at the closet tree, then the ground.

Ilia:Should be easy enough.

Her foot slips right as she jumps around she hits the ground below. The only pain she feels is the bruised ego and what can only be described as her brain bouncing around. The fatigue of it all made the ground feel oddly comfortable. She took a moment to stare up at the sky; the shade from the balcony blocking the cruel sun. Soon she’d have to move.

Kali:*looks down* Are you okay?

Ilia:Honestly, not my worst screw up in recent months.

Kali:Fair enough. You forgot your scroll up here by the way.

Ilia:Probably for the best considering what just happened. Kali can you do me favor? I need you to make a call.

xxx

Neptune:.......*sips coffee*

Neptune:Can you walk.

Ilia:Yeah

Neptune:Can you walk well?

Ilia:No......got a feeling I twisted my ankle a little. Among other stuff.

Neptune:And you don’t ask Kali for first aid because.....?

Ilia:I am not going back in that house right now. Just help me up please? My aura will fix it soon enough.*raises arm* Mind being my crutch?

Neptune:I could just carry you on my back?

Ilia:Neptune I need just a little dignity right now so if you could just get under my arm and then stand up please.

Neptune:But your so short. I’d have to be hunched over and-

Ilia:You dined and dash yesterday! Can you please just-

Neptune:Fine! *supports her* happy?

Ilia:A little. Can we go to your motel room? My home is way too far of a walk.

Neptune:Fine by mean. I’d get lost anyways. *starts walking*

Ilia:Thank you...

Neptune:Yep. So.....any reason why you look vanilla swirl with pink sprinkles?

Ilia:It’s been an overwhelming forty minutes since I woke up.

Neptune:Does it have something to do with sleeping with my best friend?

Ilia:*eyes widened* What are you talk- why would I....sigh

Neptune:Not even denying it. Don’t worry about responding to it right now. Just enjoy the fresh air and walk.

Ilia:(easier said then done.)

The duo hobbled in silence for awhile. It would look suspicious if there wasn’t plenty of other people still getting their barrings. Neptune kept his eyes forward to look out for anything. Ilia was busy zoning out. The initial shock of everything had finally warn off and her skin went back to its natural color; except for her freckles. The darker spots were still pink and only getting pinker as she hopelessly tried to think of anything but last night. Blood rushed to her face out of embarrassment.

Neptune:Heads up Ilia.

Ilia:Hmmm? *looks up* Oh......

A menagerie officer stands before them with their hands on their hips; a fox tail wraps around their slim frame as they stare down the two.

Neptune:Who’s your foxy friend Ilia?

Cop:That’s racist....

Neptune:Crap! I’m sorry!!! You know I kinda thought it was stupid to say out loud but-

Ilia:They’re joking around. Neptune this is Judy. Judy this is Neptune, he’s a bit dumb but I’ve been told he’s pretty valid as a person.

Judy:Haha, he must be if Ghira hasn’t thrown in the ocean yet.

Neptune:He....he does that?

Judy:Only to pests. For the record, I’d play it say and refrain from animal puns or jokes. Any other faunus might’ve gotten a bit rowdy.

Neptune:Noted. So....any reason someone as beautiful as yourself came strolling this way?

Judy:Just helping where I could when suddenly I see Miss. Bomb Defuser strolling by. You haven’t checked in with me in a couple of days. I don’t have to remind you that multiple cops and gaurds are still twitchy about your circumstances do I?

Neptune:Wait, is Judy-

Ilia:Yes Neptune, Judy is my parole officer.

Judy:Come now, you aren’t on parole. It just makes a lot of people feel better if you can be accounted for regularly by the authorities and sometimes help around the place to rebuild your self ima-

Ilia:Judy.......it’s parole.

Judy:........*nods* Yeah I guess it is, sorry.

Neptune:Well if that’s the case I can vouch for her and say for the pass few days she’s done nothing but help organize the party and decided to indulge in the festivities last night. You can even find a copy of all the decorations she’s done at the Belladonna estate signed off by Ghira himself.

Ilia:!!!!?

Judy:Woah, well that makes things easier. Thank you Neptune. I guess you really are valid.

Ilia:You’re telling me.

Judy:Anyways, I’m gonna head out but actually go check in next time so we don’t have to think about sending a search party. *walking away*

Ilia:I’ll think about it.

Judy:Ilia.....

Ilia:Goodbye Judy! Start walking Neptune before we here a long winded speech about the wall.

Neptune:*walks* Judy seems nice.

Ilia:Surprised you barely flirted through that conversation. I was waiting for you to make a mistake like most people do around Judy.

Neptune:Mistake? What mistake?

Ilia:If you haven’t figured it out yet then who am I to tell?

Neptune:*smiles*

Ilia:What?

Neptune:You’ve calmed down from the looks of it.

Ilia:Oh, I guess I have.

Neptune:Good, because we’re here.

Motels were something menagerie was getting used to since Haven. Plenty of faunus has stopped by to figure out if they also wanted to move in and even important figures across Remnant wanted to discuss human and faunus relations as a new organization formed. So a motel half the size of Blake’s home was built a little ways west of the main part of the island. Here people could easily access the beach or look inward to all the people and get a glimpse of what a regular day here looks like.

Neptune took pride and being the first human to have an indefinite stay at the beautiful place; even Ilia hasn’t been around it much. He lead her to his room there was a back porch that faced the sea with a hammock. The room itself was wood furnished with a decent sized bed in the middle and two night standing on each side. The golden brown look of it all gave off a vibe of warm flames and deep heritage. Neptune guided her to the hammock then went back inside to grab some pills and water bottles before coming back out. He didn’t have to say anything before she grabbed both of them and open the lid.

Neptune:I’m guessing your hangover headache was really bad.

Ilia:You guessed correctly. Thank you by the way, for all this. Especially with Judy.

Neptune:Someone had to keep track of supplies since you and Sun made a competition.

Ilia:Makes sense. By the way.....Judy is-

Neptune:I figured it out on the way here.

Ilia:Okay, I was gonna feel a bit bad if I didn’t say something.

Neptune:Trust me, I’ve developed a sense for these things after meeting you. Still, they are pretty cool. Probably knows how to party.

Ilia:Don’t tell your date from last night that, or is she already out of the picture? This room is surprisingly clean for a playboy after a party. House keeping works fast.

Neptune:House keeping only had to dust. Nothing happened in this room last night. I took that girl home after the fireworks because boy was she out of it. I tried calling Sun to let him know where I was but he never answered. That’s when a gut feeling told me to look for high points and I saw you two on the roof.

Ilia:Oh......

Neptune:Didn’t think much of it. Even after I saw him pick you up and lead you inside. There was a little chatter about a spunky drunk girl that told of some creep inside with the help of a monkey faunus so I assumed that you were thoroughly wasted; which makes sense after what you did at the restaurant. Sun was with you and both of you were pretty bummed out the whole night so I thought “they’ll probably go ditch the thing and I’ll see him later.” But then I didn’t......

Ilia:Uuuuuuummmmmmm.....

Neptune:Sun is a big boy and knows the place so I didn’t think much of it. I’d catch up with him tomorrow morning. Tomorrow becomes today and as I reach for my scroll expecting apology messages from him, it’s Kali telling me to come pick you up from the house as quickly and discreetly as possible. Now I hate to make assumptions, but I’ve done my fair share of unsuccessful balcony exits. What they all have in common is what I did the night before to prompt such a hasty exit.

Ilia:What are you? Some kind of jr detective?

Neptune:When it comes to crimes of the heart I find all the clues.

Ilia:It’s not a crime of the heart it’s just.....ugh. *lays down* Gods I feel stupid. What possessed me to think sleeping with Sun was a good idea to push away pain.

Neptune:I know your teenage years aren’t exactly normal but that’s about as normal as teenage thought processes go. He was depressed, you were depressed, tons of alcohol, and common ground found at a late night party. I’m not saying I expected this because I didn’t, but makes sense.

Ilia:You don’t understand Neptune! What happened shouldn’t have happened, but it did and now I just feel....weird. I can’t remember all of last night right now but I remember a decent amount. Things I wish I didn’t.

Neptune:Like?

Ilia:I said things. Personal things I don’t share freely. I was hurt but things felt, okay? Yet so wrong at the same time.

Neptune:*frowns* Do you feel used?

Ilia:No, heavens no. If anything I sort of feel like I used him a little. Which was not my intention.

Neptune:What was your intention?

Ilia:I DON’T KNOW!!!!!! I just remember feeling..... something. Whatever the hell it was....

.........

Neptune:Do you....regret it?

Ilia:What?

Neptune:Do you regret last night?

Ilia:I’m, not exactly sure.

Neptune:Well maybe start there and everything else might fall into place? I’m not saying this isn’t a big deal or anything but trust me when I say this does not have to be some staggering revelation. Beer has a way of blurring that line.

Ilia:Sigh, I’m not prepared to talk to Sun about this.

Neptune:Lucky for you, he normally blacks-out when he gets too drunk.

Ilia:Seriously?

Neptune:Yeah he doesn’t like drinking. I think he only did it because of how upset he was.

Ilia:Oh......*turns blue*

Neptune:Uh oh, what’s wrong?

Ilia:Even if he doesn’t remember, it’s wrong to keep that from him right?

Neptune:Tricky question. Personally, I’d tell him if you feel weird about it. Sort out your feelings on the situation and if it meant nothing to you and was just something that happened then by all means, I’ll keep the secret.

Ilia:But.....?

Neptune:Blake and Sun are only friends with compassionate people, so I know last night meant something to you in one shape or form. I’ll be here figure it out if you want and anything else you might need. That way you can tell him with a clear head.

The more Neptune spoke, the more Ilia had to keep rethinking her description of him. Sun wasn’t just hyping him up whenever he told her that Neptune has more heart than she realized. His words, his smile, everything he did today made that statement....valid.

Ilia:I’m sorry Neptune.

Neptune:For what?

Ilia:Downplaying you constantly. You’re actually really sweet. So I’m sorry.

Neptune:Oh *red* well don’t go spreading that around alright. Some of these girls are really buying the whole cool yet distant act I’m putting on.

Ilia:*snickers* Alright, I guess I can do that. Hey is it alright if I can just lay here for a bit and just relax?

Neptune:Sure, it’ll help get my lien’s worth out of this place. *going inside*

Ilia:How much is this room?

Neptune:Too much Ilia! It’s too much! At least the water is free, I hope.

Ilia:(Funny, forgot to call himself compassionate as well. Maybe that’s why Sun likes him?)

Neptune:*scrolling* Hmm?

*one new message*

Sun: “Hey man, sorry about last night.”

Neptune: “Don’t sweat it dude.”

Sun: “So uh....can I come over? I gotta talk to you.”

Neptune:........

Neptune: “About?”

Sun: “About something that happened last night.”

Neptune:*turns around*

Ilia:*sleeping peacefully*

Neptune: “How about we meet somewhere for breakfast instead? Just to get out and about?”

Sun: “Sounds like a plan. Thanks bro”

Neptune:(Well I guess this is happening now.)

xxx

Sun:*holding Ilia’s scrunchy*......... oh boy.

Part 5

#rwby sunshower #rwby #neptune vasilias #sun wukong #kali belladonna #sun x ilia #rwby sunspots #bmblb

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angryhausfrau-writes · 4 years ago

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I Travel Troubled Oceans - Chapter 2: The Heist

Charles was, in fact, difficult to persuade of the plan. Sure, he wants money just about as much as any of the rest of the crew. But he's also pretty fucking pissed at Eleanor Guthrie.

Although the prospect of getting one over on her – and ruining another one of the people responsible for sending him to jail and getting filthy rich in the process – is a strong incentive. And Jack's always been good with words. Persuasive, one might say. Charles is stubbly, slightly recalcitrant putty in his hands.

So they all troop down to the nearest YMCA so Charles can take a shower. And Anne shoplifts him some slightly more upscale slutty clothes, because God forbid the man ever actually wear a shirt. But he looks like a halfway respectable stripogram by the time he shows up to Eleanor's little birthday party – a fashionable two hours late so the party's in full swing and he doesn't look desperate. Though Eleanor will probably still read him that way. A pathetic sad sack crawling back to her on bended knee, ready to beg forgiveness and willing to do anything to get back in her good graces now that his former crew is a wreck and Flint's run off to America.

Eleanor thinks she's got Charles right where she wants him – under her two-thousand dollar heels. But that doesn't mean it's not a scene worthy of the fucking Baftas when she sees him come through the door.

Jack and Anne and the new guy are posted up in the kitchen, dealing to all the posh little fucks looking for a bit of white gold to get the party started right. Just killing time until Charles makes his move and he and Eleanor head to the bedroom.

And minimalist open plan living being in fashion, even in these old Victorian piles, they can hear every fucking word of the happy little reunion from a whole half a house away.

“Why Charles,” Eleanor practically purrs – and it's the purr of a Jaguar, lethal and expensive. “Whatever are you doing here.”

It's not a question.

Charles forces himself to look down at his feet. As if he's weak. As if he's ashamed.

“Eleanor.” He makes it sound anguished instead of angry. “I had a lot of time to think while I was away.”

Because Eleanor and her lot threw him away. And who knew Chaz was such a good actor? There's none of the violent, simmering fury Jack knows he feels over the betrayal. His tone is contrite and he must look suitably groveling, because Eleanor lets him continue.

“I started thinking about what was important – what was good in my life.” Namely her. And what he'd do to get her back. Though that goes unsaid, because there's such a thing as laying it on too thick, even for Eleanor fucking Guthrie.

And they – Jack, mostly Jack, who'd coached Charles through the whole interaction - must have struck just the right balance of pathetic groveling and virile masculinity with that little performance, because Eleanor says, “Why don't we discuss this somewhere more private, Charles?”

A few minutes later, Jack gets a surreptitious eggplant emoji from Charles's burner phone – the prearranged signal that he's successfully convinced Eleanor to sleep with him and that they're free to comb the house. Jack sends a winky face in response and then he, Anne, and the new guy split up to search for the cash.

Knowing Charles – and Eleanor – they'll probably be tied up for a while. Charles almost definitely literally. But that doesn't mean they can dawdle.

Anne takes to rifling through the bedrooms, disturbing several couples – and more – in the throws of passion. But she's always been good at intimidating idiots to stay out of her way – and so obviously on a mission that they don't do more than voice a few token protests. Plus, she's good enough at what she does – and they're so wrapped up in their drugged out fucking – that she's in and out before some of the participants even notice she's there. But, as Jack learns from her regular updates of terse “NO” and red “X” texts, she has no luck finding the cash.

Jack hadn't really expected Eleanor or Woodes Rogers to keep the cash in a random bedroom, where any horny houseguest could stumble upon it. So that just leaves the master suite – empty, what with Eleanor having taken Charles to the room that apparently serves as her bedroom cum sex dungeon, if Max's deeply - horrifyingly deeply - detailed description is to be believed. (Privately, Jack thinks Eleanor may have gotten just a little bit too invested in the whole Fifty Shades trend. But bored horny women are bored horny women, regardless of bank account balance, apparently.)

And Woodes Rogers is otherwise occupied downstairs, courtesy of the new guy, who's apparently caught his eye and is being rather badly flirted at, if the increasingly frantic texts Jack keeps getting are any indication. Jack feels bad, he really does – ok, not that bad, he'd do the same thing on purpose if Woodes Rogers was into queens. But he likes a little bit of rough - not that Jack can blame him – and the new guy seems to be doing it for him, even if he's got a pretty boy face. And this is probably the best chance they're going to get of having the house to themselves for the search. So he tells New Guy to stick it out and if Woodes Rogers starts getting too sleezy to make a break for it. They'll all meet at the rendezvous point at the kebab shop in the West End anyway, it doesn't matter if they don't all go together.

Plus, it'll help take the heat off if they just look like regular party goers instead of co-conspirators in a heist.

But Jack doesn't have a lot of extra time or attention to spare for New Guy's plight. Because Anne's struck out in the master bedroom, except for some rather tasteless but presumably expensive jewelry. And Jack's searched the study - a big, stupidly imposing room that practically screams “compensating” - and he's come up with zilch. A fucking goose egg, outside of a moving bookcase that hides a humidor. Probably Eleanor's.

So he moves on to the library, the last place the cash could reasonably be without them having to try and search the fucking basement.

It's probably the least used room in the house. Because sure, Woodes Rogers is a lawyer of some description and Eleanor an accountant. But the paraphernalia for that kind of stuff gets kept in blinding glass and steel corporate offices. This room is for impressing the impressionable. And it's absolutely stuffed to the fucking rafters with first editions of classics and entire sets of encyclopedias that Jack would bet real money have never even been opened by their current owners.

There are also several oil paintings in heavy gilt frames – perfect for hiding a wall safe. And if that doesn't reveal anything, there's always the horrifically overbearing desk situated in pride of place in front of the enormous bay windows. Jack can just see Eleanor there, sitting in the high backed antique chair like it was a throne, dispensing her version of mercy on groveling penitents.

Jack wonders if she ever made Max fuck her in that chair. That feels like something she'd be into.

And with that lovely thought, Jack turns to search the nearest painting – a drab toned portrait of a man who is presumably one of Woodes Rogers's antecedents. Blugh. But, heinous crimes committed during his life or no, he isn't the final resting place for stolen goods.

Jack turns to the next painting and the next with no more success. The final painting – one of hounds on the hunt – doesn't reveal the cash, but it does reveal some rather racy photographs of Eleanor and one of her previous lovers (neither Max nor Charles, so Jack doesn't remove them) in what is apparently Woodes Rogers's pathetic attempts at a black mail collection on his wife. It's quite sad really, so Jack just takes a snap of it for Anne – who'll undoubtedly show it to Max, who'll get a kick out of it - and moves on to the desk.

There, he strikes gold. Or cash, really. There's a hidden compartment in the bottom of the desk drawer with a lock on it – as if that could stop Jack. Or anyone with better fine motor skills than a toddler. It only takes him a few minutes and an unbent paper clip to open the catch.

And there lays the cash.

Jack signals Anne and the new guy to come help, since there's approximately a metric fuckton of it. Someone who's not Jack is going to have to practically crawl inside the desk to get it all. But they've found it, finally.

Thank Christ.

Jack starts laying bundles of cash into the bottom of his traveling case – one of those hard-sided suitcases that businessmen so love to use. And he's honestly not sure if that's going to be enough. But fortunately, the new guy had the foresight to bring a ratty backpack along and between the two bags and the three of their pockets, they get it all stowed away.

Jack texts Charles a Jolly Roger to let him know he can wrap things up with Eleanor and all that's left now is to get away clean.

Which is almost easier done than said. They walk out the door, times staggered enough that it doesn't look like they're all leaving together, and no one notices a thing. It's all very anti-climactic, honestly. The movies always make this part seem so exciting – car chases and shoot outs and etcetera. But they just walk right out the front door, completely invisible to the partiers still inside the house.

Jack leaves last, so he's only about a half block away when Charles finishes their little distraction off with a bang. They'd planned it all out – how to make it look like Eleanor had the upper hand in the breakup this time, so she wouldn't look too hard at the evening and link the theft back to Jack or Anne. How to make sure that Eleanor was left physically and emotionally satisfied enough that she never seeks Charles out for another night of fun. How to make her feel in charge and in control and like she's throwing Charles over, instead of them conning her.

And frankly, the bits Jack can hear are a masterstroke. Charles is pathetic and groveling in a way that is genuinely unappealing – but that apparently gets Eleanor's rocks off, because she's got the most self-satisfied fucking smirk on face, the one he imagines she wore the entire time Charles was in her bed. And Eleanor stands at the top of the stairs, framed by the open doorway, lauding her everything about herself over Charles as he begs her to take him back. Which she does not deign to do at all.

All the other party goers have gathered around to witness the carnage and Eleanor's not even pretending to feel sorry about making such a scene. This – this is what she's been looking for ever since Charles gave her the boot – coincidentally right before he went away on that two stretch. And she's milking her ability to get one over him in that same way for all it's fucking worth.

“We're done, Charles.”

She says it with the cold finality of a vault door swinging shut. And she sweeps back into the house, surrounded by the ranks of simpering sycophants. Leaving Charles curled into himself on the cold pavement.

#black sails #max/anne #jack/charles #fanfic #chapter 2 #i travel troubled oceans

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