#honestly I just want to start just sharing stuff about their food and culture whenever I come across posts like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thr-333 · 3 years ago

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I got this request story idea where quirkless deku doesn't want to be a hero anymore because of bullying that he got from bakugou and wrong saying that he got from all might. So deku decides is a backpacker, travelling around the world experiencing cultures, food, quirks!!! He has even a YouTube account where talk about his travels, meet new people and talk about their quirks.

Here you go @sweetizukufan its set in nz like you wanted :D

Ochako flopped onto her bed and groaned into a pillow. She didn’t have the right to complain, she knew that. She had been one of thousands of applicants to pass the entrance exam and for the past three years her classmates had been training just as hard as she had. And truthfully she didn’t want to complain. It was her final year at UA. It was only a matter of months until she was officially a hero her dream since a child and she was excited for it!

That didn't change the fact Aizawa had upped their training the last few months. The days got longer the work harder and quite frankly it left her with virtually zero free time. Whenever she tried voicing her thoughts she’d be met by her well meaning, but overly enthusiastic classmates encouraging her to keep her head up.

She was! That didn’t mean she had to go through hellish training with a wide smile on her face.

“Ugh,” Ochako rolled over as it got hard to breath with the pillow smothering her. She really did need to get some sleep before waking up at five in the bloody morning tomorrow when she hit the gym. But honestly at this point if she didn’t do something to break up the monotony of training, eating and sleeping she was going to lose it.

She blindly grabbed for her phone. The school had funded getting her a newer model than her old flip phone since that had been a hindrance when she started internships. She was provided with the industry standard which her friends had tested by throwing it out a window, where it hit Bakugou’s head, and was promptly exploded then stomped on. The thing came out of it without a scratch.

She brought up youtube, it’s not like she had any games, let alone time to play them. It was probably a bad sign she had forgotten what channels she liked. With little other option she started scrolling trending with only a small amount of hesitance. She flicked past everything that was clearly clickbait, too childish or both.

Something caught her eye and Ochako back-pedalled to take a look. It looked like some sort of vlogging channel ‘ARRIVING IN NEW ZEALAND! Auckland sky tower!!!’ was written across the screen. Even with all the caps she didn’t really see how that could be clickbait. Maybe the guy was just excited, she would like to get a holiday like that after all. The image had him smiling at the camera sitting down and below him was nothing, nothing but a street far below. Ochako was embarrassed to say her first thought was that he had some sort of floating quirk before realising he was literally sitting on a window. In her defence she had a float quirk.

Partly embarrassed she clicked on the video why not live her traveling dreams vicariously through a stranger? She used to watch her fair share of travel videos, although those were mostly in tropical places so she could research where to take her parents.

The video started with a shot looking over the wing of a plane, a montage of it starting to land. Ochako was vaguely concerned when all she could see was water out the window but just before touch down the tarmac came into view so it wasn't a surprise crash landing. The camera cut off after a few more seconds panning across the airport as the plane pulled in. The music started to fade out as the shot cut to the same guy as before.

“Hey guys Midoriya here again, just got off an eleven hour flight,” He had no right to look so cheerful at that Ochako had never been on a plane but it didn’t look particularly fun, “And let me tell you I was not prepared for the ordeal that is security here,”

Midoriya’s smile faltered a bit, looking sheepish. He was walking with the camera just outside the airport, people milling around in the background paying him no mind.

“I had no idea it would be that tough, I had an apple I got on the plane in my bag and I thought that would be alright, I got it on the plane after all!” Midoriya didn’t look upset or angry but he was blushing madly. Ochako cracked a smile at that now that she looked closer he was probably about her age, “But no, I swear I thought they were going to arrest me! They started interrogating me, I had to stutter out that I got it on the plane, but that didn’t stop them they gave me a lecture about protecting the environment and declaring food, luckily I got off without a fine, I think it’s because I looked terrified, because I was,”

Midoriya chuckled rubbing his neck, there was a bang and he looked wideyed to the side the camera shook slightly then cut to another shot the setting slightly off from where it was showing a bit of greenery growing at the air port.

“Sorry dropped my bag,” Ochako giggled at that a bit, more that he had decided to keep that in the video than anything else, “So I thought that was the end of it, but apparently not, they started asking questions about my shoes, ‘have you visited any farms?’ ‘have you worn them hiking at any point?’ stuff like that, so that was a bit of a problem because these are my only pair of shoes in this country and I’m pretty sure they’re gonna incinerate that apple,”

A little graphic of a cartoon apple on fire popped up along with a pair of shoes. A speech bubble followed saying ‘save yourself!’ as the apple’s little chibi face screwed up.

“I promised them that no, I haven’t by the way I wouldn’t lie about this stuff the environment here is super cool and unique I couldn’t live with myself if my dirty shoes killed a forest,” The graphic was gone by now and Midoriya was walking through the airport, “But I handed over all the snacks I had in my bag, even if they were ok to bring in the country I was too anxious to risk it, that seemed to appease the border security and I got away with my shoes in tact, my snacks sacrifice will not be in vain,”

Ochako was tempted to laugh but if someone set fire to her snacks or sweets there would be hell to pay.

“Anyway now I’m hungry and have some time before my hotels check in,” Midoriya beamed at the camera, “So I’m gonna do something I’ve wanted to since planning this trip,”

On that mysterious note the video cut to another montage as Midoriya got into a taxi. Ochako let herself enjoy the sights that rolled out the window. She wished she had a computer to watch this on instead of squinting for details on her phone's screen. The montage went onto show the outside of a store then going inside to pan over all the baked goods inside. It was a smorgasbord that stoked Ochako’s envy.

“Here we are,” Midoriya sat at a table just outside the store a few bags laid out in front of him, “These sorts of bakeries are everywhere in New Zealand, I didn’t look for anywhere specific just one walking distance to my hotel room, and here we are!”

Midoriya took something from a bag showing it to the camera to make out the golden crust of a pie. Going torturously in detail as he ripped it open for the audience's benefit. Steam rose and mince flowed out, surprising Ochako as she thought it would be sweet. Breaking it open made a mess as Midoriya was forced to drop the piping hot pastry. The filling pooled across the bag it had come in making the whole thing look sloppy.

“I think my friend would kill me if she saw me do that, Gemma don’t watch this video,” Midoriya warned to late, “She’s the one who told me I had to try a pie, I have a few flavours here but lets start with the basic one, mince!”

Midoriya had some difficulty eating it now that it had fallen apart but managed and his eyes lit up.

“It’s really good, the pastry is flaky and buttery it works really well with the savoury mince the two together make a really satisfying bite, but I guess it would be better if I didn’t destroy it first,” Midoriya said sheepishly, “I won’t do that for the rest of them, promise,”

Midroiya took another bite from the pie before showing off the next one.

“This is Gemma’s favourite Butter Chicken, and trust me it smells so good!” Midoriya, the tease took a bite. Ochako had to wonder what she did to deserve this, “Wow I like this one way better, not that the other one was bad!” Midoriya hurriedly said.

He showed the inside to the camera, a rich looking butter chicken inside.

“It’s really flavourful so you don’t need any sauce that and the texture of the chicken and curry are really complimented by the pie crust,” Izuku took another bite as he talked, “I guess it’s kinda like if Butter Chicken was wrapped up in Nan so there's no way it wouldn’t be good,”

Midoriya talked more as he ate that pie and a steak and cheese one he had brought talking about both until Ochako’s mouth was salivating.

“That’s not nearly all the pie options, but I’ll be touring across New Zealand so this can be an ongoing adventure, now desert!” Midoriya brought out a long bun full of cream, it had a dollop of jam on the top and so much icing sugar Ochako feared for his health. Midoriya however ignored those fears and took a bite anyway, “The buns really soft and the area that the cream’s touched it is just the best texture ever,”

He smiled and there was cream and powder on his cheeks Ochako just knew was going to haunt her until he wiped it off.

“This entire thing is just, ‘ok how can we make this as soft as possible,” Midoriya commented getting closer to the middle of the bun where the bit of jam was, “The raspberry, I think? Jam is really good at breaking up the flavour half way through, now I can eat the rest of it,” Midoriya grinned as he finished it off. He started walking around again waiting for his check in to arrive. That didn't seem to bother him as he pointed out things on the street as he walked.

As he did, Ochako saw someone blatantly jump over the street instead of waiting for the lights. There was another person in the background who casually strolled across the side of a building, feet sticking to it somehow. While people would use their quirks on the street all the time they were usually less obvious about it as police would sometimes call them out and it did depend quirk to quirk. Midoriya zoomed in on a few of these people before it focused on him smiling as he walked.

“New Zealands got pretty cool laws around quirk usage,” He explained, clearly having done his research, enthusiastically by the looks of it, “You have to go through some basic training to prove you can control your quirk, at least so you wont hurt anyone after that you get a license and your free to use your quirk, like I island,” That Ochako thought was cool part of her training had pointed out that some situations heroes were called in for weren't always villain attacks but some public quirk usage gone south, “It’s pretty easy to get by the sounds of it but that does all depend on what your quirk may be,”

The shot cut a bit, Ochako assumed he had rambled on about that for a bit and decided to cut that part.

“In terms of heroes from what I’ve researched the police handle most of that, they’re trained in their quirks kinda like hero schools back in Japan but starting at university not highschool,” That made sense Ochako supposed, and they’d probably have more time to master their quirks too, “There’s a few heroes sure, they’re like a branch of the police department and I think there's a departmental separation between rescue and combat heroes,”

Was she privately pleased he had listed rescue heroes first? Yes, yes she was.

“But honestly there aren’t many, they seem more like the people you call in for really big stuff going on, or international relations, it makes sense the population of New Zealand isn’t all that big,” Midoriya rounded the corner someone made a peace sign at the camera before moving on, “Almost half the population is here in Auckland and the whole country hasn’t reached the five million mark yet, thats crazy to me considering Japan’s population is in the hundred million range and it’s only slightly bigger than New Zealand,”

That did seem insane to Ochako, not sure to be smug about that fact or not.

“So that's probably why heroes are less of a thing here but that doesn't mean it’s all not still really cool,” Midoriya was beaming at the camera, his positivity and enthusiasm practically punching her through the screen, “I’ve rambled enough, it’s about check in time I’ll show you guys where I’ll be staying,”

Midoriya gave a quick tour of his hotel room. It wasn't much, more of a backpackers than anything.

“It’s not big I know but I’ll only be staying here for a few days to explore Auckland then I’m off traveling so a large place wasn't really a worry,” Midoriya flopped down on the bed, bouncing slightly as he hit the mattress, “I’m gonna take a nap because I am exhausted,” His tone betrayed nothing, “But stick around because I’ve got a surprise this afternoon- well I probably put it in the title anyway so it’s not a surprise but it’s still going to be cool, See ya,” Midoriya saluted the camera and it faded to black for a few seconds.

When it came back to light it was an image looking up at a tall tower circling around it and entering the building next to it. There was a continuous shot that was sped up as he walked through the line entering an elevator which literally had a glass floor.

“Wo-” The camera was pointed down at Midoriya's shoes as he hesitated to stand on the glass patch. His foot made contact before he quickly stepped back, “Nope, no, nope,”

Ochako laughed and sank back into her bed. The elevators opened and there was a shot of large windows showing the expanse of the city. The footage sped up as Midoriya did a clean circle around the tower showing it was a loop to give a 360 degree view of Auckland. It was pretty with rolling hills and she could see forests at the edge of it. Honestly it was small compared to the cities she was used to but that made sense given what Midoriya had said earlier.

“Look at this,” The footage went back to normal speed as Midoriya focused on a chart comparing the heights of different towers, “It’s half as tall as the sky tree,”

And that was given the giant antenna on the top.

“Come check this out it’s pretty cool,” Midoriya walked down the steps until he was right next to the window, a few steps more and he came to a patch in the floor that was just glass like the elevator. Midoriya noticeably stood back from it, “It says here that the glass is just as thick and strong on the floor, so reasonably logically,” Ochako snorted, “It should be just the same as walking on the floor… they say that but…”

Midoriya switched the camera around to focus on him, looking a bit pale.

“This might shock you but I’m not really a fan of heights,” He shuddered and shook himself out, “Alright I can do this,”

What followed was a frankly painful process that Ochako couldn't help but laugh at. Midoriya would approach the glass before backing off. He set the camera up on the railing so it looked down enough that she could see the glass and street below. Midoriya tried a bunch of stuff like walking up without looking down. That didn't work and he backed out several meters before he had even reached the glass thinking he was standing on it. He tried to sit down and scoot onto it but couldn't manage more than sitting far from the edge and putting his feet on it. Ochako started howling with laughter when a kid came by running up and jumping on the glass while Midoriya looked on with fear like they were mad.

Midoriya at least had a humor about it. 2D sketches drawn over the video to help exaggerate his struggle and the entire thing filmed rather comically.

Ochako was beginning to believe he had photoshopped the image earlier before he grabbed the camera taking a deep shuddering breath.

“I can do this, I promise I can do this,” He sat down and shuffled back cringing all the way. Ochako found herself strangely proud as Midoriya actually made it onto the glass. He was white knuckled reaching up to hold the railing. He smiled shakily at the camera before turning into a more genuine look of triumph. That was until he quickly rolled off it jumping to his feet and scurrying away, “There! Done! I did it!”

He was smiling brightly now and Ochako couldn't deny she was proud of him. She had struggled herself with heights something she was forced to get over to use her quirk so she knew just how hard that can be.

“Gosh I hope that's easier than what I’m about to do,” Midoriya spun around to show a different window wires running outside and inside a countdown that was about to hit one. It did and there was a blur outside Ochako belatedly realised it was a person. Oh no.

“Now I’m not going to do that but I am going to do something pretty cool,” Ochako blew a sigh of relief but also wanted to hit him for scaring her like that. Under no circumstances should he be jumping off buildings.

They lapsed into another montage Midoriya going back downstairs. This time he had the courage to put a foot on the window in the elevator. Downstairs he went into another area donning a coat and sort of jumpsuit before layering harnesses over the top. He went up an elevator with a few other people this time. They stepped out into another room Midoriya carefully keeping the window out of frame to keep the grand reveal. Their harnesses got latched on and secured to a railing. Once everything was safe the doors pushed open revealing Auckland city, this time not hidden behind glass.

Midoriya skipped over the likely long process of gaining the courage to go outside cutting instead to him smiling with the city at his back and wind whipping through his hair.

“Welcome to the top!” Midoriya yelled over the wind, the audio quality was bad but that was understandable. She felt worse for Midoriya who was smiling through the fear, “It’s really cold and windy up here and I’m scared!”

“Just go back down you idiot,” Ochako huffed fondly as he kept shouting to be heard over the wind.

“I’m kinda afraid of dropping my camera honestly,” Midoriya laughed but she couldn't hear it, instead he pointed in to a few specific spots across the city, “See those hills? Most of those are actually remnants of volcanoes, you see Aucklands kinda built on top of a giant pit of Magma,”

Midoriya quickly grabbed back onto the railing, slowly shuffling along the sky walk, higher than he had been inside.

“Luckily the volcanoes in this area are dormant, cause if one in this area erupts there's a pretty good chance like 50 more are gonna follow,”

Midoriya stayed up there for a little longer pointing out interesting things in the distance. Ochako could safely say she was glad when he cut back to the bottom of the sky tower. His hair was windswept and cheeks red from windchill. Ochako didn't even need to check the comments to know most of them were gushing about how cute he was.

“That was… terrifying, but I’m glad I did it, who thinks I should try skydiving next?” Midoriya grinned, before his face dropped and paled again, “God please no that was a joke,”

Ochako giggled relaxing back in bed again after the tension of the skywalk Midoriya had been leaking through the screen dissipated.

“Anyway I’m just gonna go lie down for a while until some friends of mine get here, then we’ve got one more surprise,” Ochako hoped he hadn’t changed his mind and was going to jump off the building after all, she didn’t want to see him have a literal heart attack.

The video cut to Midoriya smiling at the camera again. He had a lot more color to him now and his hair was somewhat tamed. In his defence he had apparently got off and 11 hour flight then walked around 300 meters in the air it was allowed to be messy.

“So the person meeting me is Gemma, I mentioned her earlier, and a few other friends but their camera shy so you probably wont see them,” Midoriya was bouncing in place gaze constantly drifting away from the camera, “This is our first time meeting in person so I’m kinda excited kinda dreading if this has all just been some elaborate joke and I’m about to get stood up or worse,”

“Who hurt you and who do I need to kill?” Uraraka whispered, fully prepared to throw down the gauntlet for a youtuber she had only just discovered.

Luckily for them Gemma and his other not seen friends were spared her wrath. The camera shot was from far away so she couldn't hear or see anything in detail but it clearly showed the two running up to hug each other Midoriya pulling back to excitedly chat. Gemma matched his enthusiasm, sparkles trailing her arms as she made wide sweeping gestures.

“Here everyone say hi to Gemma,” The shot changed to frame the two of them, Gemma waving the motion sending more glittering sparkles falling from her hand and landing on Midoriya’s shoulder.

“Oh no-” Gemma stepped back to look at Midoriya the front of his shirt was covered in lingering sparkles along with his face and hair. Midoriya looked down at himself a little shocked as Gemma covered her face groaning into her hands, “I’m so sorry, I swear they fade out,”

She scrubbed her hands down her face, unaffected as her whole body shone lightly with subtle sparkles.

“I love it,” Midoriya grinned, twirling a bit to show there was a band of sparkles across his back from where her arms must have come around him. He was quite a bit shorter than her so his face also looked like someone had blown glitter in it, it just made his smile all the more dazzling.

“So you know where we’re going for dinner?” Gemma was looking at the camera but clearly asking Izuku.

“Up the tower again!” Midoriya beamed and really him plus sparkles was too unfair a combination.

This time in the elevator Gemma stood proudly on the window as Midoriya yelled at her.

“Are you crazy?!”

“Crazy you say?” At that Gemma jumped up and Midoriya let out an unholy screech as the elevator shuddered, she laughed but it was teasing not cruel. Ochako could make out the vague reflection of someone patting Midoriya on the shoulder and another person's arm came into frame to swat at Gemma.

When they reached the top Midoriya did not focus too much on the view, already having shown it. They stepped into a nicely decorated restaurant, but what was interesting was when Midoriya demonstrated that it was slowly spinning so the patrons could enjoy the view without leaving their table.

“Do you think they could speed it up?” Gemma asked, she was sitting next to Midoriya, both had their backs to the window so Ochako had a clear shot of it.

“Like a dangerous merry go round?” Midoriya questioned, the sparkles still clung to his cheeks and eyelashes.

“Exactly!” Gemma gave him finger guns, that matched her real guns. She may be sparkly but without the coat Ochako could now see she was ripped, “Also the dangerous is redundant,”

“What kind of merry go rounds-” Midoriya cut himself off as a waiter walked by, “... anyway I don’t think thats a good idea, given that the points to you know, eat,”

“Thats just what makes it more fun,” Gemma waved off.

“Uh-huh,” Midoriya raised an eyebrow skeptically before turning to the camera, “Hope you guys don’t mind but I wont be doing much food reviewing this dinner, I’ll show it off but-”

“This is a night for us to celebrate, later losers,” Gemma saluted, Midoriya squeaked telling her off before cutting the video off. Ochako laughed glad for Midoriya that his nerves had been wrong.

As promised he showed a few shots of some fancy looking food. Ochako wondered how much she would have to save up for her and her parents to eat there, not as much as the flights of course… hopefully.

The camera placed on the table showed the scenery slowly revolving outside, getting darker and lights turning on as the sun set. By the time they were getting up to leave it was fully dark outside and Midoriya spared a moment to linger on a shot of Auckland at night.

“Izuku don’t forget your bag,” Gemma called as she shrugged on her jacket, also glittery.

“Thank-” The camera whirled around to where the bag should be. There was a slight ridge dividing the circle of the restaurant that spun and a ledges lining the outside where all the supporting beams were, “Oh sh-”

The camera started shaking as Midoriya ran through the restaurant. The shot switching to another camera that caught Midoriya as he ran the other way almost bowling over a waiter and profusely apologising. All the while you could hear Gemma and several others laughing off screen.

“Oh? Look what we have here,” Gemma moved the camera to focus on a spot as the restaurant turned around, a bag coming into view that Gemma scooped up. It was probably Midoriya's seeing as it had a couple of All Might pins and Ochako wasn’t sure how popular he was internationally.

Gemma set up the camera to focus on the opposite direction Midoriya ran. It caught the moment he came around the other side, still staring worriedly at the window. Gemma whistled sharply gaining a few glares but a relieved look from Midoriya as she held up his bag.

They left the restaurant with a few apologies at the other patrons for being loud. When the camera switched it was back on Midoriya but Ochako caught a glimpse of Gemma shimmering in the background waiting around.

“Alright that's all for today,” Midoriya smiled, Ochako stomped down the slight disappointment resolving check out his other videos from his easiness and confidence on screen Midoriya must have been at this awhile, “I’m going to be touring all over the country so stay tuned for the series, I haven't showed you nearly how beautiful New Zealand is, I hope I can make it down to the south island too cause they have some really pretty scenery, for now I’m going back to the hotel and crashing hard, see ya!”

The video signed off to the end cards a recommended video and link to Gemma’s apparent channel that looked like some sort of fitness channel with how she was lifting weights in it. Ochako promised herself to check it out.

For now she subscribed to Midoriya’s channel checking the time to see if she could squeeze in another before going to bed. She was feeling like she could get away with it. The change in pace revitalising in a way. But really she attributed that to Midoriya’s natural cheer and charisma. Somewhere in there she had allowed herself to relax and get swept up in this dorky kids mundane adventure. It was exactly the kind of thing she wanted her parents to experience one day.

This was exactly what she had become a hero for, and now graduation was within her grasp. She just had to push a little more and then she would be out in the world able to do some good for her family and everyone else.

Ochako smiled at the screen, resolving to get some sleep and maybe she could squeeze in another video tomorrow morning. Before she turned off her phone Ochako glanced at the channel's name, snorting to herself. It was perfect.

Green Bean and Bags

#my hero academia #my hero academia au #mha #bnha #asks #ask request #asks welcome

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i-need-air · 4 years ago

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Your blog makes my heart explode, it turned in the place i go to whenever I want to feel butterflies and uwu!!! I was wondering, how would a relationship with Bakugo be with a foreigner, like would he embrace their culture or would he see a future with that someone? I saw this study that japanese men find foreign women attractive but just for fooling around and not marriage stuff and my mind went there idk maybe it sounds weird. Fell free to ignore this if it's weird heh

Appreciate your words! You're absolutely adorable and now I'm the one feeling butterflies! 💖💗💖💗💖💗🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

And wow, that's interesting to say at least and I googled it myself to see; I'm not gonna lie, it's not surprising and it points out that the cultural difference could be a problem in long term relationships that's why they're more reclutant about marriage. Japan is very traditional so that's why I said I'm not surprised and honestly it's an issue in multicultural couples everywhere. Been there, felt that...

That being said, let's talk about Bakugou:

× i 100% stand by this: Bakugou dates to marry.

× could definitely leave the ask like this and feel good about myself bc i trust those words.

× one thing about this man is that if he likes you, he likes you

× it's a matter of attitude, not origin, not heritage, not quirk related, not looks, but your personality

× even before dating he will research about your home country and traditions as the curious man he is [ thinks it's not a big deal, he just wants to know where your dumbass came from, like whateverrr who caressss ok but what did you say your birth city was called? how do you spell— 💀]

× and if you are still learning about japanese ones, he will teach you about it in his own way because of two points.

he genuinely wants you to like Japan; it's is homecountry, his origins, he grew up with those traditions and would like to enjoy them with you

it's an excuse to spend time with you; he might act a little indifferent about it [ as he avoids being aggressive with you ] but he likes your company and the small smiles he sends you give him away

× if you're still trying to learn japanese, don't worry, he's a nerd so he knows English but will point out mistakes in grammar or pronunciation; don't mind it, again, he won't mock you, he actually respects you for actively trying to learn another language and mastering it

× even if he did read about your country, he won't ask about it much before dating and it will take him some time to ask afterwards too; absolutely does not mind if you do start talking about your country on your own though since he's learning new things about it and about you, which he then adds to his mental PowerPoint about you

× why doesn't he ask, you say? at first he's interested in your personality and once he's sure he's into you, he'll then slowly think about having a future together, and this guy, this guy is a thinker so he goes through all scenarios; another thing is this dumb pomeranian wants to keep his indifferent act;;

× he does think about cultural differences but doesn't see them as a problem. if you managed to catch his attention and got him to think about a future with you? he's gonna embrace your culture altogether; you already won him, congrats

× food will connect you two and i feel he'll use cooking time to bond together

× he will teach you how to cook japanese food so maybe teach him recipes from your culture? if you don't know, pull some recipes from google and make a disaster together, he doesn't mind much; istg he's gonna cook better than a local grandma after a couple of tries 💀[ specially if you're homesick and enjoyed his other tries, Chef Bakugou will basically do it for u bby ]

× traditions are a big thing too, so whenever you celebrate something he will pay close attention and definitely butt in and ask; the difference from before is that he doesn't have to pry to find out, it comes naturally and that saves him some blushes and the conversation can be more natural while keeping that indifferent pomeranian act i told you about before [ as you bond closer he will get over this issue, don't worry ]

× "So what's it about?" says in a bored tone but his eyes give him away, curiosity getting to him

× just tell him but please, tell him about your past and memories related to those traditions

× language, you say? if your mother language is english he will perfect it bc of you and if it's not;;; ok look, he's a lil shit, ok? so guess who learns how to call you a dumbass in your own mf mother language? ye, that's right

× this is a whole fluff hc but he's extra at doing things, right? when he knows he loves you and tells you the first time, he will tell you in your language

× bc your face is priceless and that's his shit; legit cocky grin and snickers in your face

× tell him "I love you" back and watch him turn into a stuttering tomato

× it will become common between you to say it in your language, it's like a secret only you two share

× by secret i mean everyone knows he's a simp but now ✨international✨

× once Bakugou knows it's time to meet your family, he will actively learn it though, at first without your help; he still has this dumb idea that he has to be the best at everything without seeking help but once you find out and he sees how absolutely enamored you are by his actions, you'll become his tutor [ full time job and you get paid with food and sneaky forehead kisses ]

× he can't pronounce something? gets angry and tries until he does; he ain't a quitter 💅

× makes you repeat the words a lot though, he likes watching your lips move and the way you speak? y e s

× one thing that is make or break in the relationship is where you decide to live long term so pretty early in the relationship you'll know he's not moving away from Japan

× he has his goals and dreams and definitely wants you in them but moving away is something i feel he wouldn't do

× yet he's all up for vacations twice a year or so; remember he wants to be a hero so he won't have time to go more than, but he will want to explore your country with you by his side, also to meet your family and put to test those tutoring classes he got from you;

× once you're married and have kids [ yeah, he wants the whole package ] know for a fact those kids will take part in both cultures; loves your heritage and wants to pass it to the future generations; imagine multilingual mini-Bakugous, i—💖💗💖

× his parents! the Bakugou household is pretty modern and they wouldn't have a problem at all with you being a foreigner; they'd be very interested in learning about your culture too and honestly, they don't mind where you are from as long as you love their son [ they feel blessed someone can handle his dumb ass but ok ]

× fashion designers as they are, they gonna be interested in your traditional clothing; seriously, they'd love to know everything about the topic and even implement them in some of their designs if there's no issue from your side

× overall once Bakugou knows he wants to pursue you, he will go all in for you

× bc he a simp and genuinely appreciates everything about you 💕

#boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #noire writes #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons

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ladyalienist · 3 years ago

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Health, size, and honestly fuck everything.

I wouldn't want to write this post, but here we are. I mean, this is the most anonymous I can get.

In January 2020, before this whole Covid mess started, my head started spinning at random.

It was slightly uncomfortable, but I could do stuff while slightly uncomfortable. I'm used to doing stuff while in pain.

In March 2020 I received an endometriosis diagnosis - after thirteen years of pain and bathroom gore one week a month, five different oestrogen pills that worsened the situation (to this day, I haven't spent ONE DAY in my adult life without taking some hormonal pill) and TWO YEARS OF ME SAYING "I have endometriosis, I have every symptom, PLEASE HELP ME!".

Finally I had a therapy that made me feel better - no more The Shining blood-in-the-corridor scene! No more pain! Just follow religiously the regimen of progesterone and supplements for the side effects and you'll be fine! Still fatigued as fuck, still suffering from dyspareunia, but who cares.

My head kept on spinning at random. I didn't bother.

I don't go to the doctor unless it's extremely necessary. It's not a matter of money - my country has free healthcare, thank you very very much - it's about how I was treated. Not listened to, my problems overlooked, diagnosed at best with "fat" and at worse with "maybe it's all in your head, sweetie", the very few time I was in for somethig that couldn't possibly be reduced to "fat" the exams were invasive and painful and included screaming at me for flinching. And then a "lose weight, anyway".

I won't go on and on with rambling about my misfortunes with doctors, but anyway, in late June my head spins a lot and it's not just being slightly uncomfortable, it's "I'm risking to fall and hit my head every morning when I get up and I can't do shit". I go to my doctor this morning.

This woman who had me as a patient for about a decade makes her visit and assumption - not that important, it's not the point - prescribes me more in-depth exams and one medicine that should help, and then proceeds to tell me "you must really be sick to come, you're not the type who ever goes to the doctor". Yeah ma'am, maybe if you had listened to me when I came the first two times I'd trust you better. Then she sends me to a very kind nurse who needs some information to make a new file about me. Including height and weight.

Based on BMI I am obese. And I am fat. Like, I'm a really big and intimidating sturdy woman. But I have unbreakable bones and a strong build and even when I'm not doing any sports I can still lift most of my friends up and spend a whole day marching. I am undeniably fat and I'd need to lose weight, but I'm far from being the kind of obese most people imagine when saying the word. Like, many people including males in seeing me genuinely don't think I'm in any way medically problematic.

BMI is shit. It's shit on so many levels. Everyone knows that. Yet the nurse kinda frowns, she didn't expect those numbers.

I go out from the doctor. It's a nice, sunny day.

I am thinking about killing myself once again.

I think about all of the desperate work I put into learning how to take pleasure from food and still eating healthy - once a week I have pizza. Once a week I might have a sandwich with a bit of mayo or a sushi lunch. No soda of any kind. Some biscuits at breakfast because in my culture breakfast is carby and sweet - but my breakfast is overall not that big deal. I don't drink alcohol. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. I try to be intuitive and follow the needs of my body. I take long walks whenever I can - if I can't it's because university is a fucking full time job nobody ever recognizes and I get TIRED.

I'm fat and no amount of salad can change that. My weight stayed the same for seven years after school no matter what and how much I ate. Science is telling us that size is 90% genetics and epigenetics and diet culture is killing people.

I tried to learn how to enjoy eating and how to do it in front of other people and how to share. But now I'm having thoughts about how much I need to lose and how to do - no more weekly pizza? No more sushi? Never again? A sad sad life of counting calories and going back into massacring my body in sports the way I did when I was a teenager? Or maybe I could finally fit (haha) the criteria for bariatic surgery, so I can have exactly one slice of pizza per week and be satisfied with it for the rest of my life. Still a bit sad but fine, I guess. I wasn't meant for pleasure anyway.

I think about how people were grossed out by my body and mocked and ridiculed me and whoever looked like me. Thin was the price to pay for being free to exist, for being at least a girl/woman - not even a person, misoginy still counts, but a girl/woman. A fat girl, a fat woman, is less than that, she's scum.

I think about how the men (boys actually) I partnered with were delighted with the fact that they could hit me and be rough - I could take the pain and no serious damage was ever done. But fucking me and hitting me did not make me their girlfriend. Their reputation could be ruined, God forbid. The very first male friend who didn't actually bother about being seen in public spaces with me... well I met him at 20, exactly 20, it was my birthday.

I think about the repulsion I feel in the morning when I shower and I see and feel my naked body.

Yesterday a friend of mine, a friend of mine who says I'm beautiful, who calls me "hottie" on a regular basis, and I were drinking a cocktail. She took a picture of me for Instagram and I was OK with it. Now I think about how people might see me and feel the same repulsion. I get them.

I think about a woman my age who just died in my country because of bariatic surgery. She went under and never woke up. She was just like me, big and sturdy but healthy, happy. She had a boyfriend and friends - one friend in common with me indeed - but the job market wanted her to be skinny. So she died.

I raise my gaze and see a man, his lower abdomen so bloated it hurts to watch, slowly walking to somewhere. I don't want to blame a guy who has done nothing but exist, but... has he ever thought about his body in the same terms I think of mine? Look at his slow slow walk... entirely different from my fast and nervous pace, the one that has my acquaintances and friends screaming "where the fuck are you running please wait for us short-legged people you valkyrie", fast and nervous not only because I have places to go but mostly because I have calories to burn. Does he know that fast walking makes you healthier? He doesn't seem to know. Health for him is a non concern.

I'd deserve a healthcare system that does something for me. What I have is ineffective measures for serious problems and a useless culture that would rather have me die in an unnecessary surgery than just reconsider it's priorities. Tell that woman that it was for her health. Please, go on her grave and tell her.

I get to a bar.

"Good morning, may I have a coffee cream, please?"

My head has not stopped spinning yet.

#radblr #fat woman life #radfem safe #radfems please touch #gender critical #radfems please interact #terfs do touch #radfems do interact #fatness #fat healthcare #women healthcare #women health #useless ramble #fat acceptance #some people are fat #and that's okay

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nikibogwater · 4 years ago

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Bogwater’s Guide to Writing Platonic Relationships

Have a seat, dears, pour yourself a mug of cocoa, and let’s talk about writing for a bit. Specifically, writing emotionally intense, compelling relationships that are completely devoid of any romantic tension.

“Niki, those don’t exist! The only relationships that are truly intense and compelling are the romantic ones! Everybody knows that!”

*gently bonks you on the head with my magic scepter* NO. This is a common misconception that is perpetuated by media and especially fandom culture. And it stems from this bizarre idea that emotional intimacy must always equate with romantic intimacy. I have no idea where this idea got its start, but if you ask literally anybody who has experienced real, genuine friendship in their life, they will tell you it’s absolute nonsense. Just because you’re not doing the kissy-kiss with someone, that doesn’t mean you’re not emotionally intimate with them.

“But I don’t want any emotional intimacy without the kissy-kiss! It’s boring!”

Yeah, so, there’s a reason platonic relationships in modern media often feel less interesting than romantic ones, and it’s precisely because of what I said above. Media producers and many fic authors are skittish about showing platonic love with the same level of depth and emotional intensity as romantic, so it often ends up being somewhat watered down and simplified, to the point that it becomes a less interesting relationship. The only thing this does is perpetuate the idea that any and all emotional intimacy immediately implies romantic attraction (it does not) while also devaluing the very real importance of genuine friendship/familial bonds.

“Okay, but what if I just like romance better?”

That’s your personal preference, and that’s okay! Everybody has their favorite genres and tropes that resonate with them more than others. My personal favorite is Family, Found or otherwise (with a healthy dose of Hurt/Comfort on the side), but I can totally understand if romance speaks to you more. HOWEVER. This does not excuse writers and other content producers from low-key asserting that romantic relationships are objectively “better” than platonic ones. Hard fact of life: Nobody needs to experience romance, and even those who do experience it do so in different ways. But everybody does need to have emotional connections with other people through the bonds of friendship and family. Believe it or not, romantic love is not a universal experience. Platonic though? Everybody knows that one, and everybody needs it to be happy. To devalue it as a whole is to impose a toxic mindset that forces people to experience relationships in a very narrow and restrictive way.

Okay--*steps off my soap box and kicks it to the side*--now that we’ve established that friendship is important and should be given the same value that society gives to romance, let’s talk about a few ways to write intense and compelling platonic relationships!

Emotional Intimacy:

I’ve talked about this a lot already, but just in case some of you are confused, emotional intimacy is just when two people have a very deep familiarity and understanding of each other. They understand how the other’s mind works, and feel comfortable opening up to each other about their own stuff. Obviously, this is very important for any relationship, platonic or romantic, but writers will often limit such familiarity between characters to the romantic relationships. The first step to writing an interesting friendship is to not do that. Show that your platonic soulmates understand each other and are vulnerable with each other. Here are some easy ways to do that:

Character A knows all of Character B’s personal preferences--likes and dislikes, including small things like food, flowers, music, etc.

A can finish B’s sentences for them.

A is willing to talk about their feelings when B asks if they’re okay.

A and B trust each other and know the other always has their back

A and B will occasionally reference events in their shared history and even have inside jokes

A will seek B out for comfort when they are upset.

A and B almost never miscommunicate--they know what the other means when they say something, and will immediately notice if the other is acting strange.

A and B can communicate with each other silently, via subtle looks, eye movements, or gestures.

Selflessness:

To quote a grossly over-marketed Disney franchise, “Love is putting someone else’s needs before yours.” This is the simplest and also most accurate definition of love I’ve come across, and it is universal to all kinds of relationships. So in order to make your platonic relationship compelling, you need to show that the characters are willing to make sacrifices for each other--even big ones. Make sure this is a mutual exchange between both characters, because otherwise you risk making the relationship look a bit toxic. Here are a few of my favorite examples of selflessness between friends/family:

Character A willingly puts themselves in harm’s way in order to protect Character B.

A is always ready to drop what they’re doing and come to B’s assistance.

A and B regularly do small favors for each other without being asked.

A is always mindful of B’s needs and makes sure they’re taken care of.

A and B always do their best not to hurt each other, either physically or emotionally.

A is openly very worried whenever B is in danger and stops at nothing to help them.

Affection:

This is the part where most writers balk when writing platonic relationships. “They can’t touch each other!!! That’s sexy and weird!!!” No, it’s not. This idea that any and all signs of affection are exclusive to romantic relationships is toxic, and we need to wipe it from existence. Obviously there are different levels of physical intimacy, and some absolutely are exclusive to romantic relationships. Here’s a list of No-Gos if you want to keep a relationship completely platonic:

Kissing on the lips/mouth/neck.

Gazing deeply and silently into each other’s eyes for long periods of time for no other reason than to simply Gaze.

Doing the Do or otherwise touching each other in an explicitly sexual way (I feel like this one should be pretty obvious. Also wth guys, that stuff is grooooosssssssss 🤢)

Honestly those are the only ones that I can think of that are always exclusively romantic. Everything else requires pre-established context in order to be taken as such. So here’s a list of affectionate gestures that are totally safe for established platonic relationships!

Little forehead/cheek kisses.

Hugs--yes, even prolonged ones. Sometimes friends/family just want to hold each other for a while, and not in a sexy way.

Holding hands.

Leaning on each other.

Playing with each other’s hair or gently petting it in order to offer comfort.

Sleeping next to each other when circumstances require it (and neither of them makes any fuss over it)

Saying “I love you.” STOP MAKING THIS AN EXCLUSIVELY ROMANTIC THING, PLEASE, FOR THE SAKE OF ALL THAT IS PURE IN THIS WORLD!

Touching foreheads (my personal favorite of the lot!)

Maintaining prolonged eye-contact during moments of sincerity and communication, especially if Character A is trying to tell B something important.

Sweet little smiles, or other such soft looks of fondness

And many other gestures that I don’t have time to go over in this list.

Tip the First: When writing platonic affection, be sure to bear in mind your characters’ personalities and physical differences. For example, if Character A is significantly bigger and heavier than Character B, they probably wouldn’t be tackle-hugging B, because that would risk seriously injuring B. Different personalities also have different levels of comfort when it comes to physical affection. If you’re writing fanfic, it helps to revisit the source material and observe how the two characters interact with each other. And remember: just because two characters aren’t physically affectionate with each other, it does NOT mean they don’t have a deep and meaningful friendship. Also bear in mind that many people have different dynamics with different friends simply due to the way their personalities fit together. Not all of my friendships look the same, and it’s not because of insincerity on my part--I just have different interactions with different people.

Tip the Second: If you want the gestures of affection to really pack a punch, use them sparingly. Save your long, warm embraces for when the two characters finally reunite after a long separation. Have Character A take B’s hand only when they can sense that B is frightened and in need of reassurance. A “First Platonic Hug” scene can be just as sweet and feelsy as a “First Kiss” scene if you do it right! Also, don’t be afraid to talk at length about how a gesture of affection makes a character feel. Describe the warm fuzzies that bubble up in their chest when their friend/family member gives them a hug, wax poetic about how grateful they are to have said friend/family member in their life. Taking time to explore and dwell on a certain feeling should never be strictly reserved for the ones associated with romance.

And when in doubt:

Observe the professionals. Here are some fantastic platonic relationships from various pieces of media that I take tons of inspiration from:

Frodo and Sam from Lord of the Rings (especially in the books)

Jim and Toby from Dreamworks’ Tales of Arcadia series

Din and Cara from Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Lilo and Nani from Disney’s Lilo and Stitch

So in conclusion:

Listen, I get it. Romance is exciting and cute and sexy and very important in its own right, and society likes to beat us over the head with it these days. But I cannot impress on you enough just how vital platonic relationships are to living a good and fulfilling life. I am who I am today because of the family and friends who have helped me grow. Please don’t disregard it, whether in your writing or in your own life. Cherish friendship. Acknowledge the depth of your platonic feelings for someone. And writers, please don’t be afraid to express those feelings in your work. If we let friendship and family die, I can assure you, any potential for healthy romantic relationships will quickly follow suit.

#niki rambles #writing #fanfiction #long post

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maomaomeows · 5 years ago

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Hairless Cat! S/O: Mao Mao

Request: your ask box seems to be closed on your tumblr, or at least I can't find it, so I'll drop my request here bfyudksbvfjdsvx- What if s/o was was a hairless cat? i think it'd be kinda interesting to see how he'd handle the whole 'hairless cats are ugly and mean' stereotype and stuff like how they get cold easier or can't be in the sun for too long without getting sunburnt. (sorry i rlly like hairless cats aaa) thanks-

[A/N: I'm back!! Sorry for the giant hiatus everyone!! Hopefully I should be posting regularly again! This was very fun to write, (I love hairless cats!!!) and I can't wait to fill the next request! I love you all so much. Thank you for all of the love and support <3 Anyways, under a read-more since it’s long!]

He’s had a lot of experience with all sorts of animals, so you’re not the strangest person he’s seen: not by a long shot. Not to mention, he grew up in a cat-dominated city. Some of his more distant family members are Peterbalds, as well! He has a very deep respect for hairless cats, and he has plenty of experience with them.

That’s not to say he views y’all accurately, though. At least, not at first.

He actually bows to you the first time you two meet. Hairless cats are typically royalty where he’s from!

He’s very confused when he looks up and doesn’t see you wearing gold jewelry, or bearing the traditional tattoos. It’s an... awkward few moments of eye contact. You don’t understand why he’s bowing, and he doesn’t understand why you look so... normal? Civilian-like? Why are you dressed so casually?

He follows you around for a little while out of habit. He thinks he has to protect you. You must be royalty in disguise, right? There’s no way a hairless cat is just another citizen! You have to be some sort of royal family member in disguise. Maybe you’re on a secret mission? Yeah, that has to be it! He follows you from the shadows, ready to protect you from danger at a moment's notice.

You eventually convince him that you’re just a normal cat and god, he’s embarrassed.

He thinks you’re really cool, honestly. There aren’t many furless mammals around, so it’s really cool to see natural skin. He views it as a symbol of strength and individuality.

Adorabat loves to paint on you since it’s easier to get the paint off! The little paint swirls stand out so well on your skin, and you can't help but giggle at the starry-eyed look she gets. It's like painting on a breathing canvass to her!

She got so excited when you mentioned tattoos and their significance in your culture: she likes to pretend she’s giving you pretty tattoos now!

Mao Mao loves the bond you two share. It makes him fall so much deeper in love with you. She's practically his kid, after all.

Mao Mao will absolutely defend you from bigoted folks. You look a little different from everyone else: so what? What’s their issue with that? Are they really so close minded that they can’t even fathom a different genetic structure? He gets really heated about it. He hates it when people judge you right off the bat, condemning you without getting to know you. He will throw down with someone over it, if you let him.

He honestly doesn’t understand where the “ugly and mean,” stigma comes from. You’re so kind...how could anyone perceive you differently? Why make such broad, negative generalizations about people they don’t even know? And you’re so pretty!

He loves how naturally social you are! You’re always someone he can come to when he isn’t feeling his greatest, and he treasures that so much.

He buys you a little parasol to help you weather the sun. It makes even more people stare, but honestly, it’s better than getting a sunburn! It ends up becoming a key piece of your aesthetic. Some people think you're a witch at this point. You don't bother correcting them.

The most embarrassing moment of your guys relationship was when you got up from the couch, only to reveal a small oil stain. Despite the embarrassment, you both had a big laugh about it. You remember the way he doubled over, laughing until he wheezed. He tried to stop himself from laughing by putting his paws over his snout, but once you assured him that it was, in fact hilarious, he took his paws away and laughed for ages. You laughed along with him despite the raging blush of embarrassment. It’s a very fond memory that really solidified your relationship’s trust. You ended up changing your diet that day anyways. Oily skin isn't fun, anyways.

He always picks at your food while you eat. He claims he’s just trying it, but it happens every night! He actually just likes the high quality ingredients he uses in your food.

He ends up switching his diet over to yours as well to make things easier. It makes him feel fancy, anyways.

He tries his hardest to get you to blush. He thinks it's adorable!! He loves how easy he can gauge his advancements as well. You can't fake a blush! And you can't hide yours!

He gets really nervous in the winter. I mean, he gets cold in winter, and he grows a whole new coat for it! He can’t imagine how chilly you get. He totally goes overboard when buying clothes for you. Most of your closet consists of parkas, scarves, and thermals.

Wakes up early to start the fireplace in the morning once winter hits.

He loves to give you forehead kisses. He thinks it’s cute when you flex your “brows” at him in response. He can’t help but snort at the patterns it makes, and he ends up poking you whenever you respond that way. It’s a sweet little inside joke.

He honestly thinks clothes fit you super well? Skin-tight stuff is mesmerizing. The way it clings so effortlessly to your frame, without a single hair marring the cling of the fabric...it’s incredible to him. He's enchanted.

He loves to hold you. The feel of fur on skin is weird, but it’s become a comforting feeling to him. He loves to trace little patterns on you when you cuddle.

Which is very unfortunate if you’re ticklish. His fur always seems to drag across your skin in a way that makes you giggle!! And he knows what he��s doing!! He’s so stubborn about it as well. He won’t stop until you call a time-out.

He smiles every time you yawn. He thinks you’re cute.

He wants to draw on you, but he has no artistic talent. He’s too shy to learn!! He hates not being perfect at first attempt, and well...art is a honed skill. He loves the idea of painting night skies on your back, and making sharpie tattoos for you, but it’ll probably never happen.

You can convince him to write on you, though! He does great calligraphy.

Sometimes he’ll write little poems on your wrist, or your sides. He likes to do this when you’re sleeping, for two reasons. A.) So he doesn’t get embarrassed or flustered about it, and B.) So you have a nice surprise when you wake up!

They’re short, but sweet.

He’s actually a really good poet! Most of the things he writes on you are of his own creation.

Beauty isn't seen by eyes.

It's felt by hearts,

Recognized by souls,

In the presence of love

Overall, he thinks you’re gorgeous. He won’t hesitate to defend you from bigoted people, and he’s always here to help you with any accommodations you may need. You’re beautiful. He loves you so much, and he feels so lucky to have you by his side. He’ll do anything for you!

#mao mao x reader #mao x reader #mao mao imagines #mmhoph x reader #mmhoph imagine #mao mao heroes of pure heart x reader #mao mao heroes of pure heart imagine

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stellar-imagines · 5 years ago

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HEADCANONS REQUEST: ❝countryside girl.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto ]

「Headcanons of Midoriya and Todoroki having a S/O who lives in the country-side and is multi-talented, cooks delicious meals using ingredients from their large garden, embroiders their own clothes, builds their own furniture.」

MIDORIYA IZUKU

♤ Your first encounter with Midoriya was purely coincidental. You grew up with your grandparents in rural part of Tokyo, a village that's hours away from the centre of the city. It was when you were still so much younger. While kids were attending middle school and dreaming of being heroes, you were working to survive. The first time he met you, you were working at a family restaurant that he frequented. There, he learned your name and little about your life.

♤ As time passes, and when he started his life in UA, you were still working multiple jobs. Midoriya visits you at your workplace often, bringing various food ranging from raw ingredients to cooked food that his mother prepared. Despite working in the city, he learned that you actually lived in the countryside with your grandparents and make YouTube videos. He's really intrigued and checks you content often. Your videos inspired a lot and help people learn more about Japanese traditions and culture.

♤ Midoriya admires you for being so independent and multi-talented, he has a whole notebook on everything you do, from listening to your stories including your videos. During your break, the two of you would exchange information about your private lives but it always ends up with you rambling about your crops and what you're going to use them for. Because of this, he's very curious about this garden/farm that you're always talking about.

♤ During the weekends, he makes time for you. Usually you'd bring him over to your house. Your grandparents were lovely, kind and fond of him. They'd make comments on how you managed to snag a polite, cute and handsome looking city boy as your boyfriend. He'd be so flustered to hear that from the people who raised you. They'd be ecstatic to see you finally bringing someone home since they're worried that you don't have friends at all.

♤ This boy is amazed by every single little thing you do. From handling various harvesting equipment and carrying your harvested crops in handmade baskets. Midoriya can't believe that you do this every single day, handpicking every ingredients for your meals. You're truly an inspiration to a lot of people who watch your videos and he can't help but feel proud of it. And you bet your ass that he's gonna help you with your videos! This boy can't help but brag about you to his close friends, going on and on about how amazing and multi-talented you were.

♤ You'd harvest your own sweet glutinous rice, cooked in a steaming box before being transferred into a steaming. Midoriya is more than happy to help you knead and pound the mochi. He'd be the one pounding away while you occasionally knead it with water. Having such a strong boyfriend like him makes your work easier! But you don't want to overwork him because the weekends were supposed to be days where Midoriya can take a break from UA and his studies.

♤ When he's at your house, he feels at peace. It's away from the city where there were a thousand things going on at the same time. The countryside is very peaceful and there's so many things growing in your garden! The berries you grow would be used for making jams or for meals. You'd make him carry a lot of your homemade food back to his home so he could share with his mother. Sometimes you'd pack some of your fresh vegetables, eggs and fruits for him to use at home.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

☆ This guy doesn't know a single thing. He's very clueless about how stuff works in the countryside but he's very curious about how you live your life. Todoroki is very surprised that you're working at such an age, using whatever money to survive on your own in such a huge city. In a way, he was lucky, being born int a family that barely have problems when it comes with finance. How he met you was purely coincidental. You'd be working multiple jobs at places around his neighbourhood. And at some point, you started talking to him. Slowly, you would give him a small wave whenever you run into him, exchanging greetings and whatnot.

☆ He met you again when you were working as a part time journalist. Todoroki had been a part of a big mission, though his role was minor, he was still questioned by the police and being interviewed. When he saw you again, it felt like he was meeting an old friend but you both never talked that much to be called as friends. So from that point on, you both exchanged contact and kept in touch.

☆ Over the time, he started to have feelings and you both started to date. You'd take him to meet your grandparents, who seemed to be quite surprised that you came home with a handsome boy who looked like they came from a model magazine. Todoroki was the first person you brought to your home at the countryside and he was really amazed at the place you live in. It felt traditional but not modern traditional, it's genuinely traditional.

☆ He's amazed with every single little thing you do. Todoroki has never cooked in his entire life, save for instant noodles and making tea. He helps you at your garden, watering plants and harvesting them. He thinks that everything you're doing is magic. You grow your own vegetables and fruits to eat, raise chickens and cows. There were puppies running about too.

☆ Todoroki learns how to make soba from scratch. You know this boy loves soba and you pulled him over to make some for dinner. He's an interesting student to teach, making buckwheat soba is really difficult because it doesn't contain gluten. It's a nice change of pace from the hectic life at UA. Todoroki feels like he's more in touch with nature and life itself. He gets to walk around your large garden, see how you grow your crops and walk with your puppies.

☆ After coming back from your place, he'd have his hands full with your homemade items, things ranging from homemade jams, soba noodles to handkerchiefs that you made on your own. Let's say that Fuyumi is delighted with all these gifts that you always provide them. She often returns the gift by buying you new pans and equipment.

☆ He learns about your YouTube channel through the girls who watch your videos. And this leads to a lot of questioning because Todoroki accidentally blurted out the fact that you were his girlfriend. Ever since then, he watches your videos, amazed by the quality. He'd understand how it gives people the feeling of living in the countryside.

Total: 1128 words Published: 21.2.2020

Thank you for requesting! *｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و*｡ This piqued my interest a lot! Just from your ask, it got me searching for Li Ziqi in YouTube and honestly, I want to thank you for introducing her to me! She’s amazing!?! And she’s like my idol now!?! That aside, we hope you’re satisfied with what we typed out. ― author Hibiki/Lou

Thank you for requesting! Uoooo, a Li Ziqi fan! I admire her videos because of their quality, it’s so euphoric! She is very talented and makes everything look so effortless. Anyway, sorry to make you wait for so long! We got a bit carried away with this request. ― author Natsuki

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1058

What color shirt do you plan on wearing tomorrow? I dunno yet. Our Christmas festivities are finally done, so I’ll only be at home tomorrow and, as usual, picking out the first shirt I see in my closet to wear in the house.

Do you plan out your clothes a day in advance? Yeah, mentally. When I go to sleep and I have to go out the next morning, I mentally plan my outfit < Yeup, bullseye. I get stressed when I have to plan out an outfit on the spot, so I make sure I do it at least the evening before so that I have enough time to think of pieces that would match each other or would look the most flattering on me, etc.

Do you ever wish you had more money for food? I’ve already started earning on my own, so I definitely have more money for food now, versus the time I was on an allowance and the chance to treat myself to nicer restaurants only came by once in a while.

Do you ever get cravings for food that you don’t have in the house and don’t have the money to buy? Yeah. When that happens I just try to find a budget version at home and eat that haha; like if I happen to be craving noodles or pasta, I just reach for one of the cheap cup noodles we have and hope it offers the same fulfilling experience.

What magazine would you like to be on the cover of? I’d rather work my ass off behind the camera and be part of the prod team than be on the cover of a magazine that would be seen by thousands or millions of people.

Have you ever considered modeling? I did as a young teenager. I was influenced by this old friend of mine who was really into Victoria’s Secret models and VSFS in general; she and her friends all followed the trend so closely and all of them wanted to do modeling. Eventually I got roped in and the whole thing sounded appealing to me too.

Do you have any significant health problems? Nope, I’m relatively healthy as is the rest of my immediate family.

Which celebrities do you resemble? I don’t think I look like anyone but I’ve gotten Anna Akana and Lucy Hale in the past.

What is your favorite type of pants? Denim mom jeans.

Do you make the most of every opportunity? That’s what I do now. I believed in myself a lot less as a teenager and let so many nice opportunities pass by me, and then I sulked whenever I saw someone grab it and enjoy it afterwards. Very pathetic of me. Eventually I got sick of being sad about something that was clearly my fault and I started taking more chances.

When was the last time you did something daring? I guess this’ll depend on what one counts as daring, but on Christmas Eve I greeted Gab a merry Christmas, and reminded her that I love her. What set it apart from previous times that I’ve done it is that I wasn’t desperate anymore. I didn’t say my feelings while depressed and crying. I was happy that night, and I was happy to simply be honest without expecting to hear anything back. I told her not to think too much about it, and that I just wanted to be honest because people simply deserve to know they are loved and because it was Christmas and I just wanted to share love with everyone. I then put my phone away for the rest of the evening and made Christmas happy for me. :)

When was the last time you went to the doctor’s for a health problem? I can no longer tell if it was late May or early June, but definitely during that time.

Do you take any medications? Nopes.

When was the last time you had a severe allergic reaction to something? I don’t have allergies but I’m starting to think I may have a mild one for face masks? (not the Covid ones, but the cold and slimy face sheets) My face gets so irritated and itchy whenever I put on one, and I’ve tried almost all kinds and all variations of face masks.

Have you ever had a life-threatening allergic reaction? Never have.

Do you rest when you feel you need to? Eh sometimes. Other times I get FOMO and would not want to miss out on an event or a gathering, so I attend no matter how beat I am.

Do you ever worry about not having enough? Yeah. That worry has been magnified since the pandemic hit and I find myself worrying about finances and stuff.

Do you use stickers? I love stickers and I used to design my laptop case with them. I’ve had the case removed for a while now, though.

Do you still enjoy suckers? Are those lollipops? Hmm, not really anymore, honestly. Whenever I’m handed one as a small treat, I ask if anyone else wants it. I don’t like how sticky they are.

Do you wear slipper socks? I don’t think so but I looked this up just now and they look so cute. Now I want a pair.

How often do you eat foreign foods? At least once a day. A lot of the things we eat as a family is influenced from other cultures.

List five of your favorite foreign foods. Sashimi, curry, pad thai, shakshouka, and risotto.

What types of seafood are your favorite? I like all kinds of seafood. My least favorite, but I still eat it anyway, is cooked fish. I prefer mine raw.

Do you have a neighbor that plays loud music? I used to, but they finally stopped a few weeks ago. It was such a relief when they did because for the longest time it kept me distracted while I had to work.

How many plaid shirts do you own? Just one, I think. I used to have at least a handful but I’ve already thrown those out because they’ve been out of style for a while.

Do you read a lot? Not anymore. I only read memoirs, and only a handful of them every year.

Do you write a lot for pleasure? I write a lot, but they’re reflective and autobiographical, like these surveys. I get pleasure out of this, so I suppose it counts? I never particularly enjoyed writing poems or short stories.

Are there any vlogs you subscribe to and watch regularly? I will watch some vlogs of local celebrities if the content is intriguing enough and if said celebrity doesn’t exude fakeness. But these days, I don’t really tune in to vlogs even though I’m subscribed to a bunch of channels.

What are your plans for tomorrow? More surveys, more embroidery, more 2 Days 1 Night.

Are you looking forward to next week? No :( I get back to work starting Jan 4th so I’m really going to let loose this week and do everything I want to do that I won’t be able to once work starts again.

Who is your favorite person? I don’t know if I have one.

Do you have a favorite pair of scissors? Hmm not really, though when I do my embroidery I steal the scissors from my mom’s drawer because it’s still very sharp and can cut threads easily.

Do you have any allergies? Nope.

#survey #surveys

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modern-oedipus · 5 years ago

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Rant I think

I have to keep remind myself that even though the person I love the most in the world is suffering and is not likely to stop suffering for the rest of his life, it is not entirely my fault and me blaming and punishing myself or thinking about just destroying myself won’t bring them further happiness and I must not take my own happiness away by my own hands... or should I?

I always feel guilty enjoying my life when my dad’s so stressed, but I can’t ever change him to open up no matter what I do; and he always works hard & says I should just enjoy myself and live my life & provides me with all good for that, but then whenever I see him being so upset— for years— and whenever I just... I don’t know. I literally went suicidal because of guilt of existing and being a burden back then, even though he explictly states that it’s his own choice to have kids, that he loves me, that he’s proud of me, that I mean the world to him, etc, and he proved his words thousands of times, but-

But he doesn’t seem to understand I care about him as much as he cares about me.

And I feel so guilty living my life and being happy when he is not.

But I can’t make him happy ornsolve his problems— those are real adult stuff that’s beyond my power.

But when I live my life and enjoy it I feel like I’m being ignorant and I feel so guilty.

When I punish myself for that— emotionally and literally, I end up depressed and not good. And that’s dangerous. Depression is so dangerous especially in such a young age that I am in, so god forbid that-

I don’t know what to do, honestly. I feel so guilty enjoying myself and I feel downright shitty if I don’t enjoy myself. Nothing solves the problem.

The regret and fear is always eating me alive.

Even though there is nothing I can do.

It hs been like this from as long as I can remember my life.

I just want him to be happy, well-rested, and at peace. He wants same for me.

We never get both in once. Bwcause he’s always the one who gives. Always so self sacrificing. I used to think my dad is absolutely perfect but I think that’s very damgerous to give too muxh of yourself even if it’s... family. I’m... grateful of course... how can I not... but then I feel like a parazyte or something....... and I wouldn’t exchange his well being for anything else......... and yet.... I.... uh... my head’s gonna burst. I am just typing because I pushed this thought away so many times in these last days and if I pushed it away again it’d lead a really bad breakdown. I need to avoid that so I need to speak. Not to anyone particularly. Maybe I should seek a therapist. But still. Only place I can apply due outside conditions would he that in myncollege and I don’t think there’s place there. But still. I can’t afford another depression in the years that should be the most fun so I’ll have to keep my mental heath in check no matter what. So I guess it’s better to just write it out— maybe not scientifically most suggested or verified theory but I can’t expect things to be perfect to start working on them.

So yeah.

Basically.

I am so full of love and life and joy nowadays.

But I also feel so undeserving for all or them.

Sometimes I feel smart and beautiful and productive and loved. Mostly.

Then I feel guilty for itntoo, even though I worked so hard for all of them— I worked so hard to understand all scientific shit, not only textbook wise but actual effort to adapt to scientific thinking. I worked hard in gym to get the body I want and I paid attention to my appearance and manners and culture, yet I still feel undeservjngn of beauty aometimes. I overcame social anxiety years ago and every friendship & communication I make successfully are big amazing achievements that may come naturally to extroverts but to me they took hard work. Sometimes, mostly, I’m like, “Wow Nila, well done! Amazing!” Then other times I’m like “Do you even?? Deserve your food?? Or your life??????? Do you even?? Deserve a warm bed when there are homeless people?? Do you even??? Deserve all these friends????? When you’re just?? You??? Do you even deserve enjoying your life when your parents are being quite exhausted and upset to provide for your spoiled rich kid life????” and...... like... this got me in serious depression before which onlynupsetted them further and they couldnt understand what was wrong woth me because they “gave me all”, emotionally and financially. They just couldnt ser that I felt like a parayste that’s sucking life out of them, as if Imm killing them by my own hands, andnidk.

Maybe I’m being too dramatic. Maybe that’s not the case. My parents strictly say they’re proud, that zi’m loved, that itms theirnown decision and not mine, etc., etc. I have no dark past, a clean family with no sad stuff or abuse or anything, and honestly, I don’y know.

I just want to see them happy and at peace too. Thst’s only way I can feel content. But I can’t change them. I can’t control a big majority of the spendings I have. I don’t know shat to fo. Thjs has been a problem for so many years. Itms not sth that appeared yesterday. Sometimes I can ignore. But then the feeling comes back like a ghost. That I’m undeserving. That I must be ashamed for enjoying myself.

I want to tell that it’s a lie, that it’s just a depressed thought and as a scientist I can’t trust a brain in clinical depression cause that’s chemical imbalance. That’s literally what keeps me sane, knowing that depression is a medical condition and any depression triggering thoughts are NOT REAL snd they’re just some medical imbalance of hormones and transmitters so I am just fine.

I’m not depressed, not really, I still feel excited and hupe and happy today. But this thought lingers. I couldn’tbhave afforded to push this thought away for the fifth time in last two days otherwise it’d break me. So I’f rather write it.

I keep telling myself that I am truly deserving to live and enjoy live.

I seriously had to rmeind myself two days ago like “just because you got a bad grade does not validate you starving yourself, you are deserving to eat rven when you are not doing well” tben I did buy myself my healthy food and ate it but...

Can I even... prove that I’m worth it??

Scientificaly??

I know for a fact rhat me trying is a good reason. Me working hard is a good reason. But not an enough reason. I need to be productive. I need to make myself happy. I need to make people I love happy. I neef to bring smiles to faces people I love— I need to get accepted to that project so I can perform researches when I’m off school so I can design drugs and save people so that my life and existence can be allowed and appreciated. I need to write fanfics and news and produce creative content to let my heart out and share joy with friends so we feel happy and alive and connected so it has a meaning. I need to save street animals so I actually have a meaning living my life.

Am I really deserving????

I am, I say myself, but then a voice whispers, but... are you sure?

I again say yes, I’m sure.

So far, I’m surs.

A little hesitant, but tjat must be some invalid creeping thoughtrather than a feality. Sveryone is deservijg of a happy joyful life so why not me??? I’d never say someone is undeserving of happiness unless that someone had an inexcusable crime like murder or something; and since that doesnt really happen in real life i’d sAy yes we all are deserving but...

I dkn’t know.

Maybe I should talk to someoen instead of mindlessly typing.

A therapist sounds nice but not too affordable. I’ll still try on Monday— wait no I hVe a midterm. Tuesday. I’ll try. If it’s not abailable maybe I can try some online therapy which is more convenient. I don’t know. Imm still feeling alive an happy and not detachef which is good but I don’t want this feeling to lead anywhere bigger, if it makes sensez

I just keep reminding myself that I am worth safety and love and joy as much as everyone else is

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jeshikawa · 5 years ago

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For my big summer trip, I traveled down to the island of Shikoku to visit one of the least visited prefectures in Japan, Kochi.

At my JET interview 3 years ago, I was asked if I enjoyed history (yes) and if I had a famous Japanese historical figure. I blanked on the spot and blurted out a safe and easy answer-- Sakamoto Ryouma. The Japanese woman at my interview nodded her head approvingly and wrote something down. The former JET asked me to do a demo lesson for elementary school students about him. I fumbled, started over once, and manage to throw something together on the spot. When I left the interview, I joked that if I made it to Japan, I’d go to where ever Ryouma came from as a sort of tribute.

Well, I made it and since then, I’ve been to Kyoto and Nagasaki, two places affiliated with Ryouma’s life. This year, I went to his home prefecture, Kochi for four days. I had a vague itinerary made up. Vague because I had things I definitely wanted to do but some of them depended on the weather (and a typhoon was coming!).

Anyway, below the cut is the details of my trip!

But the tl;dr version is:

1. Had local food! The specialty ramen is nabe ramen, served in a hot pot with a chicken broth based and sliced chikuwa. The most popular type of ice cream, aisukurin, is a traditional kind based on a recipe from the 1800s.

2. Katsurahama Beach is easily accessible with a lot of stuff to visit nearby like the Sakamoto Ryouma museum, a cute shrine on a cliff, an aquarium, and places to eat. The Sakamoto Ryouma Museum was A+ super informative and very English friendly.

3. Kochi is the home for some very famous Japanese figures. Sakamoto Ryouma is one of the most famous historical figures in Japan (second only to Nobunaga in some rankings!). The creator for Anpanman is from Kochi and I had the theme song stuck in my head the whole time. The founder for Mitsubishi is from Kochi, too.

4. Kochi is home to the first yosakoi festival in Japan. Naruko, one of the required elements for yosakoi, is traditionally from Kochi and you can make your own at the yosakoi museum.

5. Kochi loves chickens, especially a certain breed.

6. Kochi Castle was a struggle to climb up to in the summer but the view was amazing. If you go on Sunday, you can visit a 300 year old open market nearby. I saw an 800 yen whole watermelon.

7. Kitagawamura is home to “Monet’s Garden,” a garden inspired by Monet’s paintings and the only place outside France to be allowed to officially use the title.

8. You can get delicious food and eat next to locals at Hirome Market.

9. Not many people spoke much English if at all but oh my god the locals in Kochi were some of the friendliest people I have ever met in Japan and I was so touched by their kindness and willingness to make my trip the best it could be.

Every prefecture has their own style of ramen. Kochi’s is nabe ramen; ramen served in hot pots that simmer when you remove the top. Traditionally, the ramen has a chicken broth base and comes with sliced chikuwa and green onion. I went to one place that specialized on it and they also served the ramen with chicken skin and shredded chicken.

It was hot so at Katsurahama Beach and Kochi Castle, I had aisukurin. It's ice cream made from eggs, sugar, and powdered skim milk. It’s a little crunchier and lighter tasting than regular ice cream because there’s less fat. I don’t like having dairy in the summer because it feels so heavy in my stomach but I really liked this.

While at Katsurahama, I climbed up a small cliff (which is honestly a lot easier than it sounds!) to visit a small shrine that looked over the beach. The Sakamoto Ryouma museum nearby was extremely informative and very English friendly. When it comes to museums in Japan, I think this one was one of the most English friendly ones with very detailed and comprehensive translations for about 85% of the things on display if you got their audio guide. The only thing that didn’t really have English translations was the new special and temporary exhibit about the women in Ryouma’s life (which was honestly really cool to see). We visited the aquarium that was there and it was okay... I don’t really like a lot of aquariums and zoos and this one didn’t really impress me. But it was close to the shrine and the museum and next to the bus stop so it was convenient.

Kochi loves their boy, Ryouma. He’s on all of the omiyage, his statue is every where, there are photo op cut outs all over the place, and it’s honestly really cute. Kochi isn’t a very popular prefecture but when your local boy is one of the most famous figures in Japanese history (I’ve seen him ranked as #2 on some lists, second only to Nobunaga!), you run with it. Do you know what else is from Kochi? The creator of Anpanman is from Kochi! The artist designed characters for all of the stations on the train lines and they greet you on all of the signs. Whenever a train leaves Kochi station, you can hear a jingle from the show. In Kochi City, there are statues of the characters every where. The founder for Mitsubishi is also from Kochi and the Mitsubishi logo is based on the crest for the Tosa Clan.

Kochi is home to the first yosakoi festival in Japan. It’s one of the biggest festivals in the prefecture and one of the biggest yosakoi festivals in Japan. At the yosakoi museum in Kochi City, you can make naruko which are a requirement for yosakoi. Naruko originated from Kochi as a tool farmers used to scare off crows.

Kochi Castle was a work out in the summer because it’s up a hill... but the view from the top of the castle was amazing. It was also very informative with a lot of information in English. I learned a lot about Japanese castles. If you go to the castle on Sunday, you can also visit the open air Sunday Market which has been going strong for 300 years. I saw a whole watermelon there for 800 yen. A local told me Kochi is very small and agricultural so things are just cheaper, even in the city.

Near the castle, you can visit the Castle Museum and the Yosakoi Inari Shrine. The Yosakoi Inari Shrine has chickens and roosters running around. Imagine seeing chickens and roosters running around in the middle of a city! People often go to the shrine to pray for a successful Yosakoi festival and season.

Something that was on my Japan Bucket List was visiting Monet’s Garden in Japan. I didn’t realize it was in Kochi until I started planning my trip! It’s the only place outside of France allowed to use the title “Monet’s Garden” and it was designed with cooperation and support from Monet’s Garden in France. If you go in the summer, you can see the lilies on the pond and it really looks like some of Monet’s paintings come to life. It was about a 1.5 hour train ride one way so it was 3 hours all together... and we spent about 2 hours at the garden looking around and eating lunch so this was basically one whole day.

At night, we hit up Hirome Market which is a market place with a ton of food and drink stalls that you can enjoy with locals. You can try tons of delicious food there! Street food like okonomiyaki, karaage, and takoyaki but also full meals like ramen, nabe, sushi, and pizza. I had bonito tataki-- lightly seared bonito. It’s one of the signature dishes in Kochi.

Through out the trip, I hit up a few shrines and temples for goshuin. I didn’t actually do the 88 Temple Tour because those temples are scattered all across Shikoku but I hit up a few temples on the route that were easy to get to.

It was really a full 4 days! But something that really stuck out to me on the trip were the people. Like I said, Kochi is one of the least visited prefectures in Japan, especially among foreign tourists. While I was traveling with my friend, locals were usually very curious to find out why we were there, especially before the big yosakoi festival. They were always so excited and willing to give us recommendations for places to visit and foods to try. Even if their English wasn’t very good and my Japanese wasn’t great, they were always proud to try and explain things to us. I was in a small mom and pop convenience shop looking for a drink to by and the owner tried very hard to explain the regional juices, sodas, and alcohol for sale. On the train, I saw an interesting building on a mountain and an old man did his best to explain to me it was a temple after I snapped a photo of it. At Katsurahama beach, we ran into a local high school field trip and the teacher invited us to go to the Ryouma museum along with them. One hot day, I went to a restaurant and fanned myself while waiting for food... the restaurant owner gave me a fan. When I tried to return it after dinner, he told me to keep it so I could stay cool on my trip. Even on the plane ride into Kochi, a local woman asked us what we were going to do in Kochi and gave us a few recommendations. it’s really ridiculous how incredibly nice everyone in Kochi was when they spoke to us. It was honestly one of the nicest experiences I’ve ever had dealing with local people.

My trip honestly ended up being A LOT better than I thought it would go. It’s legit one of my favorite places I’ve visited and a big part of that is just how proud and kind the people were every where I went. It’s very obvious that there are people here proud of their history and culture and they genuinely want to share it with others. This was a great way to celebrate 3 years in Japan!

#jet program #jet programme #visit japan #travel #japan

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sobbingoverthechallah · 6 years ago

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Pesach Problems! Or: Are My Housemates Assholes, Or Am I Too Sensitive?

Okay, I’ve got about an hour before candle lighting so I’m just going to dump this into your figurative laps and yeet myself off of Tumblr for the time being. It’s a long rant. I apologize in advance, and i’ll probably delete it later, but anyway please don’t reblog this! Because! It’s! Garbage!

So, this week has been my first PESACH! The two seders I went to at my university’s Hillel were absolutely incredible. I have never felt more included in my life, and my rabbi encouraged so much introspection and debating among us students and alums. I was allowed to bring my old family charoset recipe (I made it vegan, gluten-free AND kosher for Passover, which is almost impossible with a Sephardic-turned-Texas-hick charoset recipe for some reason). I have been eating matzah for a week straight, and I’m not going to lie, I really miss my morning toast. A lot. So much. But it’ll be over tomorrow, and then I can exhale a little bit and go back to not depriving myself of the joys of chametz.

But that’s been outside of my house, where I live with thirteen other individuals- some undergraduate students, some PhD candidates, some who aren’t even in university. If you read my little rants on here, then you know that my roommate is an atheist, and she has a huge problem with me. See, she’s the only person in this entire house who knows that I’m in the middle of converting. I don’t advertise it, obviously, and my eating matzah noisily with every meal has attracted the attention of my other housemates. If they’re curious about something, I have no problem answering questions. But no one knows that I didn’t grow up Jewish except for my roommate.

This past week has been filled with little passive-aggressive jabs about, well, Judaism. And my practices. It’s been one long week of side-eye and demeaning jokes about matzah. Of one housemate asking “why are you celebrating something so irrelevant, and without J*sus on Good Friday?” When I dressed according to tznius for the first seder- because, you know, it’s important to be respectful and I wanted to honor my ancestors by wearing some white with my long black skirt- my housemate made sure to give me a long, hard stare and then say “Well! Don’t you... look... modest”, in the most condescending and patronizing tone I think I’ve ever heard in my life. It’s been jokes about “Jews” being thrown around despite the house being FULL of goyim, with the exception of one housemate who’s Jewish and who has been sharing his kosher wine and matzah with me. I was honestly trying to brush all of it off, I swear I was, because I thought I was being too sensitive. But I think I have fully lost my patience. And it starts with my bacon pants. See, I used to LOVE bacon- I loved it so much, my aunt bought me pajama pants covered in bacon for Xmas six or seven years ago. I still wear them quite frequently. I have worn them on a very regular basis over the last five weeks that I’ve been living in this house.

So imagine my surprise when, after coming into the kitchen to get a glass of wine post-dinner dressed in my pants, a housemate stopped me and said “oh wow, you know, I knew that you had bacon pants, but I didn’t make the connection between JEW and bacon pants until right now!” That’s when I think that I decided to not let the next comment slide. Because Gd knows what kind of crap they would have been telling me over the past week if they’d known that I wasn’t born Jewish.

And I really don’t want to know. They were comfortable mocking “Jews”, referring to me as a “Jew” right in front of me (pro tip: if you’re not Jewish, don’t fucking call a Jewish person a Jew), making nasty jokes about matzah and blood libels (that came up exactly once this week, but they mercifully withdrew from the conversation after seeing how close I was to exploding sans apologizing), insulting the cultural and ancestral significance that Pesach has for me , because that charoset recipe is all I have left of my ancestors and I won’t stand for someone calling it “a mediocre garbage thing to eat” when they think I’m out of earshot. Lastly, someone put needles (???) on top of my quinoa faux-oatmeal, but that could have just been someone’s stupid negligence, although I don’t know why they thought it was okay to put things in my cubby full of Passover food. It got to the point where I was uncomfortable eating in the house, so I had to eat my breakfast very early in the morning and then eat a big lunch at Hillel, then run up to my room with some matzah before anyone saw me. But Pesach ends tomorrow night, and after saying havdalah, I am going to run to the grocery store and stuff my face full of bread and say a big fat “fuck you” to the guy who thought it was okay to eat a thick slice of freshly-baked bread right in front of my face while saying “oh man, it’s so terrible that you can’t have any of this”. It’s going to be glorious.

So, am I being too sensitive? Probably. I haven’t had to deal with this before, and it’s become very apparent to me how much privilege I had the last 21 years of my life not having to worry about what I say about spirituality and what I eat in front of other people. That being said, are some of my housemates assholes? Absolutely. I hesitate to put a label on their behavior, because it’s too mild to be something serious enough where I was afraid for my safety, but it’s enough to make me feel slightly on-edge whenever I’m around the same three to five people that think it’s appropriate to insult my life choices, my spirituality, my practices, and my identity.

I am going to go to Shabbos, hear the yom tov reading, have a lovely Shabbos dinner, and then count both the omer and the hours until I can eat my morning toast on Sunday. Thank you for reading. I just needed to tell someone, anyone, who might understand why I’m so uncomfortable in my own house.

#antijudaism tw #antisemitism tw #i'm putting the tws because i don't want to upset ppl with some of this stuff #please do NOT reblog #don't repost #you don't even have to reach out to me #bc i am actually totally fine? just frustrated and kind of unnerved #see this is a part of me recognizing my goy privilege that went out the fucking window when i brought that matzah home

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ghostbustermelanieking · 6 years ago

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praescitum chapter nine

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight

casefile, season 10, season 11. part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files.

Summary: As Mulder and Scully adjust to their reassignment to the X-Files and working together in the wake of their separation, they find themselves investigating a small town and a ghost that apparently warns people of bad things to come.

note: happy halloween! i actually started posting this story when i did to post this chapter on halloween, since it’s probably the most festive. but since i didn’t get as far in the story as i wanted to by this point, i’m going to kind of slow down my posting a little bit by waiting until i finish a later chapter to post the next one. i’m hoping to still be able to post at least one chapter a week, but idk if i’ll be able to keep up with that lol. those are the hopes!

warning for discussion of death in a (false!) historical context. i included fake historical people/historical battles in a real historical war.

---

nine.

october, 2016

If there's anything that Mulder and Scully are not used to, it's having a third presence on their stake outs. Back in the day, if they were staking out with someone else, said someone probably wasn't very happy about being stuck on a stakeout with them. (They've both heard plenty of “third wheel” gossip over the years, right along with the gossip about them being together long before they actually were.) Luckily, Scully notes, this time, they have what seems like a perfectly nice woman as their company. As much as she relishes the chance to have time alone with Mulder and inexplicably get paid for that time, it's better to share the time with someone who doesn't hate them. And Joy Seers seems like halfway decent company.

She gets takeout for everyone, fighting streets abuzz with Halloween traffic, cars and costumed pedestrians alike. She stops at a gas station and grabs a couple bags of M&M's as an added bonus for Mulder—in honor of the holiday, and because she's guessing they'll be here a while without much paranormal activity to entertain them. (She's still convinced that Ryan Caruthers, and maybe a few friends, are behind the whole thing. It makes much more sense than a diabolical ghost tormenting the entire town.)

Scully picks her way back to the school through streets crowded with pint-sized monsters, ghouls, and pop culture characters. Houses festooned in cobwebs and streamers and plastic skeletons. Kids in costumes holding onto their parent’s hands. At a stoplight near the school, she notices a kid on a bus bench. A familiar-looking kid with an Orioles cap pulled over his face.

She finds Mulder and Joy Seers in the classroom: Mulder setting desks and chairs upright, Joy propping a video camera up on the righted bookshelf. The room has been swept, most of the debris cleared; it looks like an empty skeleton of a room, bare walls and bare floors. “I brought food,” Scully says, sitting the plastic bags of containers on a desk.

“Thanks, Scully.” Mulder grins at her briefly overtop of a graffitied desk. She can tell he's enjoying this. He's probably been waiting for a case like this to fall on Halloween for a while. (“How do we always end up staking out haunted places on holidays, Scully?” he joked earlier, and she rolled her eyes, pointed out that this particular place is not haunted, absolutely not. Not the inn, not the school, not the town. She knows he's remembering their conversation last night, and she's hoping he won't bring it up. She feels silly just thinking about it.)

“Were the roads too bad?” Joy asks politely, squinting as she adjusts the angle of the camera. “I know they can be a little crazy on Halloween, especially in the fancier neighborhoods.”

“Not too bad,” says Scully, sitting at the desk. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

“Nothing yet,” Mulder says, sitting down at the desk beside Scully and smirking a little at her. She smirks right back.

“I was relying on our security system to prove whether or not there's any paranormal involvement, but it shorted out today,” says Joy with a touch of irony in her voice, climbing down from the chair and smoothing messy curls absently. “Convenient, huh? Principal thinks someone messed with it to cover up the crime, but we couldn't prove it; it just seems like a system malfunction. And he couldn't get anyone in here to fix it. So I'm setting up a camera in here since this has been the primary location of the activity. I'm hoping to catch some proof as to what this is, if anything happens.”

“That seems smart,” Scully offers. “Although it's strange that the security cameras would mess directly after a break-in.”

“It is,” Joy says, crossing her arms, “but the fact is that it was still working last night. Since my window lock was fixed, anyone who broke in would've had to use the halls. And the cameras showed nothing.”

“Someone could've been planning another break-in for tonight,” Scully comments.

“That's true.” Joy shrugs. “But everyone I talk to says it's just an issue with the computer system. We have the shittiest system, I swear. Anyways, we have this camera to catch anything strange that happens, paranormal or B&E's alike.”

Scully looks at Mulder, who shrugs. It does seem convenient to her—too convenient, especially considering Ryan's technical reputation—but she decides to let it go. She says, “Do we have any sort of plan past the camera?”

Mulder shrugs again. “Not really. I think we're just planning to… sit here.” He smirks at her a little, teasing her as he unwrapping the plastic silverware. “You are familiar with the method of a stakeout, aren't you, Scully?”

“Very much so,” she says dryly, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue.

Joy joins them in the clusters of desks, taking her food gratefully and thanking Scully. “I'm hoping that we'll be able to get something out of tonight,” she says, screwing the cap off of a water bottle. “I really am. Ryan's a good kid, and I hate that everyone's been putting the blame on him.”

“You really don't think there’s any possibility Ryan is behind this?” Scully asks, picking at her salad.

Joy shakes her head. “I never have. Aside from the fact that it seems improbable that a kid—albeit a pretty smart kid, but still—could pull this off, Ryan's always seemed like a good kid to me. I'm not close to Annie Caruthers, but she's always spoken highly of him whenever we see each other… And besides that, he's a model student. Aside from a bad attitude, I haven't seen any signs of delinquency from him. I almost can't believe he really set that fire.”

Scully bites her lower lip in consideration. “I think I saw Ryan outside on my way in,” she says carefully. “The intersection a block over.”

“Really?” Mulder asks, his eyebrows shooting up.

Scully nods. “I think,” she says, somewhat uncertainly. “He wears the Orioles cap, right?”

Joy taps her fingers on the desktop absently. “Probably just a coincidence,” she offers.

“It's a small town,” says Mulder helpfully. Scully pokes at a leaf of lettuce silently.

Mulder clears his throat awkwardly. “Have you ever considered that this… activity might be the result of possession of some sort? Some mixture of Ryan Caruthers and the ghost?”

Scully swallows back the urge to scoff.

“You think Ryan's possessed?” Joy asks, almost incredulously. “By the Specter?”

He shrugs. “Possession can sometimes give humans a power they wouldn't normally have. I've seen it before. That would explain how Ryan was able to get in and out of the school without being detected, how he would be able to move those heavy desks.”

Joy Seers looks uncertain, skeptical. “I suppose that could be the case, but I doubt it,” she says. “I've never heard of any possessions in the history of the legend. And I still just don't think Ryan's involved. Besides his prior history with the ghost, of course.”

Scully hmms in response quietly, sticking the fork in her mouth. She hasn't known what to make of this case since they got it a year ago, and she certainly doesn't know what to make of it now. Mulder shrugs, surprisingly nonplussed, as if he doesn't know what to make of this either.

“I guess we just wait now,” Joy says, and it's almost a question, a clarification. “Wait to see what happens next.”

They nod, nearly in unison.

Their forks scrape at the Styrofoam containers in the new quiet. The setting doesn't seem to align with the stunning silence all around them, the echoey hallways and dim classroom. As a child, Scully used to get scared in big empty buildings, especially in the huge church they used to attend in San Diego, all the looming, empty halls and the almost eerie paintings of Christ. She's gotten past that now, of course, but the oddness of being in an empty school has nearly brought it back. Right now, in all this empty and quiet space, with the small sounds in the hall as the sun sinks below the horizon, she can almost understand why people might think this school—even this town—is haunted.

---

It's getting dark now, the familiar October chill in the air. Ryan clenches his chattering teeth, beginning to regret not wearing the skeleton costume from last year. It's dorky as hell, but it's warm, he sweated buckets at last year's party. And it helps with appearances. He's just wearing a hoodie and jeans right now, no costume of any kind.

He got some candy earlier, even with the disapproving looks (either because he's too old to trick-or-treat, or because he set a fire), and so he unwraps a mini Snickers bar now and takes a bite. He's thinking about turning around and going to the party he told Annie he was going to. He should probably go to the damn party. He still has friends somehow, despite everything, and this is not the right way to spend Halloween. It might be spooky, but honestly, Ryan got tired of the horror movie bullshit at about six or seven. (He hates scary movies, scary stories, any of that stuff that makes him think about the empty eyes of the parents he'll never know and ghostly light on his bedroom walls.) He's nearly convinced, gets his bag up off of the bench and is about to walk away when his fingers brush over an envelope sticking out of the top. The letter from his Uncle Jared.

He swallows, sits down so hard his legs hurt. Shakes his head hard until he's good and resigned. He has to do this. He doesn't have a choice.

He rummages in his bag until he finds the stick-on tattoos and the bottle of water. Follows the directions as he applies them to the back of his hands.

---

Scully will admit, once again, that she's really, really not used to sharing stakeouts with other people; some of her favorite memories of working with Mulder are when they were alone on a stakeout. But they've been sitting in the school for several hours, and she has to say, it's a lot better than she expected. Aside from their opinions on ghosts, it turns out that she and Joy Seers have a lot in common. They discuss their college degrees—biology and pre-med are vastly different, but they took similar grueling science classes and can exchange stories about hellish professors—and Joy asks about the cross around Scully's neck, the one similar to her own. “Oh,” says Scully in surprise, reaching down to touch the cross, and the ring that hangs beside it. (Thank God she didn't ask about that; that'd be a fairly awkward conversation for all of them. Mulder doesn't wear his ring that she knows of, which she has no idea how to take, but at least it fields the Oh, are you two married? questions. A little.) “Oh, my mother gave my sister and myself these necklaces the Christmas I was fifteen. I've worn it ever since.”

She leaves out the occasions where she'd given it to her daughter and it was the only part of her They left behind, and when Mulder had worn it through both of their abductions. (She put the ring on the chain beside her cross when she stopped wearing it because it felt stunningly appropriate, that it lie beside something that had meant so much to both of them over the years. Sometimes she felt like she could feel Mulder in her cross as much as she could in the ring.)

Joy smiles a genuine smile. “Oh, that's wonderful,” she says. “Mine was a family heirloom. It was my grandmother's.”

Scully smiles back, a little easier than she might've a few months ago. It's getting easier to remember her mother, and concentrating on the happier memories does help. “It's beautiful,” she offers.

“Thank you—so is yours.”

Mulder stays politely quiet through most of these interactions, but he speaks up sometime in the fourth hour of their vigil. “Ms. Seers—” he starts.

“Call me Joy, please,” Joy says immediately.

“Joy,” Mulder says. “I remember when we met yesterday, you said something about there being more than one way to interpret the Willoughby Specter story.”

“Oh, right.” Joy throws out an absent grin. “That famous touchy spot. Especially around here.”

“I sense that people don't agree with you?” Scully asks, thinking of Robbie O'Connell's and the sheriff's claims that the ghost is angelic. Ryan Caruthers's claims that the ghost is anything but. The disdain she's seen in response to that skepticism. Personally, she can't really tell why the demeanor of the ghost matters, one way or another.

“I don't know if they do or don't. I haven't made any particular claims about the skepticism.” The other woman shrugs. “My husband is a historian, though,” she adds. “He's done some research into the subject, and we've discussed it before. The origins of this ghost aren't quite as black and white as everyone would like to believe.”

Mulder's interest is piqued—more than piqued, Scully can tell. “Would you mind sharing?” he asks.

Joy shakes her head. “The fame of the ghost just so happens to be intertwined with the origin of this town,” she says. “The name Willoughby comes from a Revolutionary War leader, General Samuel Willoughby. He's hailed as a hero, especially around here, considering he led his soldiers to victory in a battle right around this area. The legend got started when Willoughby published a book of his journals and letters during the war. In the journal entry dated the night before the battle, he speaks of seeing a 'specter’ who brought about feelings of foreboding and dread. This convinced him that he was doomed to die on the battlefield the next day, and his soldiers doomed to lose. So he changed his plans.”

“He survived the battle,” Scully says knowingly—she knows how these legends always go. “And he led his men to victory, and people attributed that victory to the Specter. Which is where the legend originates."

Joy nods. “But what most people don't acknowledge is how costly that victory was,” she says. “Over half of Willoughby's soldiers lost their lives, including his brother. As well as several civilians who unfortunately lived in the area and got caught up in the battle. And that's not to mention the British casualties. Personally, that's not my definition of angelic, especially considering the death of his brother.”

Mulder chuckles briefly, rubbing thoughtfully at his mouth. “It's not exactly mine, either.”

“People see what they want to see,” says Joy. “Someone comes to warn them of something bad coming, people want to think they have good intentions. That there's some way to be prepared.”

Scully hardens her face until it is stony, trying not to show her cards. Spreads her fingers out flat on the table and tries to think of anything but that night before her mother died. Mulder is nodding in agreement, and she's glad that he's distracted by this story, that he won't notice and start asking questions again. “So you don't think the ghost has… good intentions?” he asks Joy.

“Does a ghost have intentions?” Joy laughs. (Along the same line Scully has thought on in this case.) “But no, I don't. Personally, my husband and I have discussed it before, and we think that the ghost is demonic.”

“Demonic?” asks Mulder.

“Yeah. My husband has studied a lot of local history, and he found a court record corresponding to a diary entry from the judge in the early settlement that more or less became Willoughby. It speaks of a man who was convicted of the murder of his wife. He was scheduled to hang, but he disappeared from his prison cell the night before, despite two guards being posted outside. The man had been fairly wealthy and prosperous, and he had a fair amount of money stored away in his house, where they'd also found many signs of what they considered witchcraft and devil worship. All the more reason to execute him, they'd said. But after he disappeared, so did the money.” Joy takes a sip of her water bottle. “They found him two months later, dead in the mountains with no clear cause. All of his money on him. A lantern burning beside his body despite the snowstorm raging around him.”

Scully raises her eyebrows in a halfway interested response—it’s an interesting story, even if it sounds false. Mulder says, “And you think that's the Specter?”

“A ghost has to come from somewhere, right? It makes sense to me, especially that lantern detail. The details about his escape and discovery, as well as the trial records, lead me to believe this man had made a deal with the devil, for lack of a better term. And this is more or less his due he has to pay: bringing bad luck to the inhabitants of Willoughby.”

Mulder hmms under his breath. “That's a great theory,” he says. “And it makes a lot of sense, at least in my mind. It would be consistent with Ryan Caruthers's claims.”

“There’s discussion of 'the local devil worshipper’ in local folklore, but it's not as widespread. And since it took place a full century before, no one in the town ever connected the story with the Specter. But I've always thought it made a lot of sense,” says Joy. “And with everything that's happened here at this school, I've got to say, it makes even more sense to me now.”

“What do you think, Scully?” Mulder asks, and his hand is suddenly on her arm. He's noticed how silent she's been.

Scully grits her teeth and shakes off the thoughts of her mother and her cross and that fucking hallucination or dream or whatever she had before her mother passed away. Forces a smile. “I suppose it could be plausible…” she says, “... if ghosts were real.”

Mulder scoffs jokingly. “I can understand your skepticism, Agent Scully,” Joy says kindly. “Even i—”

They're cut off by the sound of distant crashes, somewhere in the building.

Scully's eyes dart to Mulder. “Did you…”

“Yeah,” he says, already standing. “Joy, do you have any idea…”

“I'm really not sure,” she says. “Maybe the cafeteria?”

More crashes, louder this time. “Split up, clear the halls?” Mulder asks, and Scully nods.

“Joy, you stay here, okay?” she says, standing and reaching for her gun, just in case. “Keep an eye out, call us if you need help.”

Thankfully, Joy doesn't argue; she just nods. “Do you really think you need that?” she asks, gesturing to the gun with her chin.

“Hopefully, no,” Scully says. “But it's a good precaution. In case whoever—or whatever—is destroying your classroom is dangerous.”

---

Mulder and Scully split up outside of Joy Seers's classroom; she goes through the west wing, and he goes through the east. The school is stunningly dark, the halls admittedly eerie, and Mulder is inadvertently reminded of the case years ago that he can barely remember the details of outside of the fact that a satanist PTA tried to kill him and Scully in a high school gym shower. He shudders involuntarily; that doesn't seem like a good line of thought after discussing a ghostly devil worshipper.

He's most of the way down the hall when he hears it: the creaking of a door hinge behind him. He whirls around to see the door of an English classroom hanging open in the circle of his flashlight.

Immediately, he sweeps his flashlight up and down the hallway, but it's completely empty.

Mulder swallows roughly, ignoring the chill spreading over him. He starts to turn back around when the door slams closed hard. He jumps, his hand flying to his holster automatically. Still nothing there; no signs of life, or things notably not alive.

“Hello?” he calls out, sweeping his flashlight up and down the hallway, feeling equal parts silly and determined. He's about to make some plea for the ghost to show itself when he hears another slamming sound, almost smaller than the last one. And then another, and another. The lockers lining the hallways are opening and closing, their slams cacophonous and engulfing. Mulder scans the hallway in frantic confusion, looking for any signs of the Specter, not sure if he really wants to see it or not, considering its legacy. But he still finds nothing, invisible hands moving the lockers as they slam, the cabinets shaking and rattling in place as if affected by an earthquake. Fascinated, Mulder stares, not wanting to look away, wanting to call Scully to get in here and see this. But before he can do anything, his flashlight flickers once, twice, and dies in his palm.

The lockers’ motion fades out as Mulder's breathing grows more erratic, maybe even fearful. The hallway seems darker without the flashlight, pitch black. He smacks the flashlight against his palm in an effort to get it working again, to no avail. “Shit,” he mutters, dropping the flashlight to his side and rubbing at his temples with his free hand.

And then from behind, he hears the scritching sound of a lit match. Golden firelight, small but unquestionably the brightest thing in the room, comes to life behind him, reflected on the metal lockers.

His heart in his stomach, Mulder whirls. He sees it almost immediately, it's unmistakable. He can't make out a face, but he doesn’t have to. It matches every description he's ever heard.

The Specter stands at the end of the hall, lantern held up like some kind of lamplighter.

Mulder's breathing is shallow, erratic; where the hell is Scully when stuff like this happens? He's dying to take a picture, but he knows that will likely only cause problems.

Instead, he draws closer, flashlight dead and useless in his hand, heart thudding against his ribs. The Specter doesn't move. He seems to be surveying Mulder, sizing him up, but somehow, Mulder can't allow himself to worry about that. He goes closer and closer, carefully, as if trying to calm a stray dog. “I know what you are,” he calls. “I know what it is you do.”

The Specter seems unaffected by this. He stands still, his face shadowed, his lantern flickering.

“Do you speak?” Mulder asks, thinking of the ghosts in that haunted house that one Christmas Eve. (If that was real; he and Scully have disagreed about it forever.) “What do you want?”

The ghost remains silent. Mulder's shoes creak on the tile floor as he steps closer, his palms sweaty around the flashlight. The Specter seems to be regarding him, considering.

When Mulder is about three feet away, the ghost's mouth contorts, dipping into a frown. Disapproval. A sudden fear plunges through Mulder's chest, nervousness—what does disapproval mean?—as he remembers Joy Seers's theory that the ghost is demonic. He is about to ask, again, what the Specter wants, when the lantern flickers out.

In a completely impulsive move, Mulder stumbles forward, absurdly swiping at the space where the Specter is. He feels nothing, and he doesn't know if it has disappeared or is still there. Breathing hard, he stands awkwardly in place, his hand curled around the useless flashlight.

And then he hears a pained yelp, down the hall the way he came from.

---

Scully is in the ninth grade wing when she hears it again: the crashing sounds down the hall to the right of her. She follows the sound, flashlight held out in front of her and gun held down by her side. There's a sound almost like banging, a clattery sound like something being dragged over the floor. Scully comes face to face with the double cafeteria doors, where the sound is louder, and pushes it open with a loud clang.

There's a startled shout, and then the smack of a body hitting the floor. Rounding the table blocking the body from view, Scully shouts, “Freeze, FBI!” completely on instinct.

“Shit!” The kid—Ryan Caruthers, Scully notes with an emotion somewhere between satisfaction and disappointed—scrambles to his feet, his ankle caught in a cafeteria chair. His face turns up towards Scully, full of regret and panic as he curses quietly under his breath: “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Scully puts away her gun with a sigh—somehow, she doubts she needs it. “Ryan?” she says, somewhat sternly. “Ryan Caruthers?”

“I had no idea you'd be here,” Ryan says miserably, untangling himself from the chair.

“So you wouldn't have come if you'd known?” Scully asks. He doesn't answer, just rubs at his face with the heel of his hand. “No one's ever been here when you've done this before, right?” she prods.

“I haven't done this before,” Ryan snaps, glaring at her. “I know what you think of me—believe me, I know what everyone thinks of me—but I swear to shit, this is the first time.”

“How did you get in?” Scully asks, still firm. “The window in Mrs. Seers's room is fixed.” She remembers in a split second, as Ryan answers, that the window was fixed before the destruction of the classroom the night before, and mentally curses.

“I jimmied open another window,” Ryan says, sounding disgusted. “The windows in here are shit, the locks are awful… And I'm telling you, I've never done this before.”

“Then why did you come here tonight, Ryan?” Scully fixes the kid with the sternest look she can muster up. “Knowing that people believed you had broken in before?”

Ryan's face turns red, and he ducks his head. His hand shoots through the air as he reaches down to untangle himself from the chair, and Scully sees the same cross tattoo on the back that she remembers from last year. “I… was worried about what was going to happen,” he nearly mumbles. “Because of the ghost. I thought something bad might happen to someone, and I wanted to come here and try to stop it.”

Scully's stern demeanor falls, just a little. She doesn't know why, but it does. She asks gently (not too gently, of course—only a bit more gently), “How did you think you could stop it, Ryan? What did you think was going to happen?”

“Does it matter?” Ryan snaps venomously. “Aren't you going to arrest me now? Agent Sully, or whatever your name is?”

“It's Scully,” she says automatically, and is ready to say more, when she hears a distinctly female shout from somewhere in the building. Joy, she thinks immediately, and mentally curses herself and Mulder for leaving a civilian alone in a potential crime scene. Even if she doesn't believe in the ghost.

Ryan jumps at the sound, startled. “What was that?”

Hoping briefly that Mulder will get there sooner, that Mulder is okay, Scully says, “You know what, Ryan? I should take you in, but this is all very juvenile, and Mrs. Seers has vouched for you multiple times. So I'm going to look the other way.”

The kid looks stunned. Beyond stunned. He says, “Are you serious? Why are you doing this?”

She doesn't know why, she really doesn't. Outside of the face that is stuck at the back of her brain, along with pain and death and visions of the end of the world. Her son out there, somewhere, and she shouldn't let it affect her work, but… She says, “Look, I need to go. If you're still back here when I come back, I'm taking you in. If I ever catch you doing something like this again, my first call will be to Sheriff O'Connell. Do you understand?”

His face white, Ryan nods. Unwilling to wait any longer—unwilling to linger or analyze why the hell she did that, she really can't believe it—Scully turns and heads the other way, back to Joy Seers's classroom.

Inside, she finds all the fluorescent lights flipped on, Joy sitting in a chair heaving air like she is going to run out and Mulder crouched on the floor. Scully runs straight to her side. “Are you okay?” she asks, kneeling to examine the prominent red line on Joy's neck. “I'm a doctor, I can help you.”

Joy waves her off absently. “I'm okay, I'm okay,” she says, her voice only a little rough. “My necklace… it was being tugged, by I don't know what. It was choking me, and then it just broke.”

Mulder stands, the broken silver chain in the palm of his hand. “I saw it,” he says, and his voice is filled with some panicked emotion that Scully can't quite place. “It was being pulled by an invisible force, Scully, she was choking and it was just held up in the air. By nothing. And then it just snapped.”

Joy takes the necklace, muttering, “Damn,” under her breath. She rubs at her forehead, her eyes, in a tired sort of way. “I'm okay,” she reassures Scully again. “Scared me more than anything. I guess I have my proof now that the Specter is hostile.”

She laughs briefly, but Mulder doesn't, and Scully doesn't know how to ask why. She stands up a little reluctantly—she’d have preferred to check Joy a little more, but she really does seem fine, she's waving her off insistently—and dusts her palms off on her pant legs. “Deep breaths,” she says gently. “Try to stay calm.”

Joy clears her throat a few times, rubbing her neck with her empty hand. “So did you find anything, Agent Scully?” she asks raspily. “I heard more sounds in the cafeteria.”

Mulder looks at her curiously, but Scully doesn't know how to tell them what she saw, much less explain what could've convinced her to let Ryan go. She lies, “I think some furniture may have fallen over. I didn't see anything.”

---

They leave the school after that. There doesn't seem to be much point in staying. They have the video in the classroom, and therefore proof. Joy seems spooked by the whole encounter, seems to have lost interest in all of it—she thanks them profusely in the parking lot, but says that she doesn't see any need for them to stay if they don't want to. “I guess I can call you if anything else happens,” she says, “but I don't know if there's anything else you can do. And I'm sure you have more important work to get back to.”

Mulder doesn't bother telling her that they probably don't—he’s almost sure that Scully shares Joy's opinion, that the lack of an actual crime here doesn't justify their position. They shake Joy's hand and get in their car to head back to the hotel.

They're both quiet on the drive. Mulder can't get past what happened in the hallway, his encounter with the Specter. At the time, he'd mostly been fascinated, caught up in the excitement of seeing an actual ghost, but now, all he can think of is the other part of the legend. The part that promises that something bad will happen if you see the Specter. He drives back to the hotel with a precise carefulness that Scully doesn't seem to notice—she seems as lost in her own thoughts as him, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. He keeps sneaking glances at her, as if something is going to steal her away, because by his count, the only two people besides him who could be affected by the Willoughby Specter and his bad omens are Scully and William. He doesn't relax until they get back to the hotel, and even then, it is a cautious relaxation. He's extraordinarily glad that they are sharing a room.

He waits until they get up to the room to say it. He nearly blurts it out—he says, “Scully, I saw it,” and it feels like an exhale.

Scully, in the act of peeling her coat off, freezes. He can see the muscles of her back, can tell how tense she has suddenly gotten. “What?” she says.

“The Specter,” he says. “I saw the Specter, Scully, in the halls. It disappeared just before something pulled at Joy's necklace.”

Scully isn't looking at him. She drapes her coat over the back of the chair, her knuckles nearly white as she clutches it. “It's not that I… don't trust what you saw, Mulder,” she says carefully, her nails scuffing the side of the jacket. “But… are you sure that's what you saw? That it couldn't have been some kind of… projection?”

Twenty-odd years ago, this skepticism would've driven him mad. Now, he pretty much expects it. But it feels like there's something different here, some unusual emotion. The familiar stubbornness, and then something else layered under it. Almost fear. He wonders if it is because of the legend, the implication that something bad will happen to him. He swallows, reaches out and brushes a slow hand over the small of her back as if trying to offer comfort. “I really think it was,” he says. “It couldn't have been a projection, it was too… It couldn't have been.” She's still not looking at him. He flattens his palm against her back, rubs a circle with his thumb. “I don't know what that means, Scully,” he says softly. “Whether or not it's…”

“It probably means nothing, Mulder,” Scully says immediately. She finally turns towards him, and her expression is guarded, but she reaches out and squeezes his arm. “It'll be fine,” she says softly, firmly. Leans forward and kisses his cheek. “I'm going to take a shower, okay?” When she draws back, she won't meet his eyes. He watches her go into the bathroom, until the door closes behind her.

He showers next, tries to shed the thought of more misfortune, but he can’t quite shake the thought of it. After everything they've been through, he can't imagine going through more, even if it is a bit inevitable at this point. He doesn't know if he could bear it. Especially if whatever misfortune the Specter brings involves losing his wife or son. (He is praying it's something trivial, like a flat tire, or someone breaking into his house.)

When he exits the bedroom, Scully is lying in bed on her side, facing the wall. He climbs in behind her, touches her shoulder gently and briefly before settling in. He's ready to fall asleep and try and forget the whole thing, give Scully her space, but she rolls over first, rolls towards him until they're facing each other. “Ryan was in the school,” she says. “In the cafeteria. All that crashing around was probably just from him breaking in.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Seriously? What happened, did he get away?”

“No.” She bites her lower lip, looking away from him. “Sort of. I… I decided to give him a warning.”

His expression shifts to confusion. “A warning?”

“Yes.” She is almost squirming, avoiding his eyes. “I… I don't know why. It just all seems so silly, the whole thing. And he insisted that this was the first time he had broken in. But I told him if I ever caught him doing that again, I'd call the police without hesitation.” She rubs at her forehead with embarrassment, her voice full of shame. “The security system was out, though. We hopefully don't have to worry about it ever getting back to Skinner.”

“Do you believe him?” Mulder asks, astonished and trying like hell not to show it. He's more surprised than angry, it doesn't really matter to him, but he can tell how foolish Scully feels and he hardly wants to make that worse. “That it was his first time?”

Scully rubs her forehead again, presses her palm over her eyes. “I honestly don't know, Mulder. I really do think that he's involved in this… it makes the most sense. I don't know how or why, but I hope he gets his act together. I… I hope that I've made this better instead of worse.”

“I definitely think Ryan has something to do with this,” says Mulder quietly, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, “but I don't think it's the same way that you think so. I think he's a… catalyst of sorts. I think he has a connection to this ghost, and I can't put my finger on it. But I think Joy Seers was right. I think there's more to the legend than people take at face value. And I don't think that Ryan was responsible for what was happening in that school.”

Scully yawns, burrowing down into the covers. “Whether there is or there isn't, it doesn't really matter, does it?” she mumbles, sounding like she wants to drop the subject. “We're going home in the morning. I just hope that no one finds out what happened.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, quietly, and reaches over to turn out the light. They settle in next to each other in the dark, their arms pressed together, hands side by side. Mulder swallows, bumping his finger against hers absently. The adrenaline of the night hasn't completely left him, the implications of his encounter in the hall, and he's grateful that she is close by. As if that can prevent everything bad from happening.

“Do you think I made the wrong decision?” Scully asks softly, and that shame is still in her voice. “To let Ryan go instead of taking him in?”

“No, I don't,” he tells her honestly, covering her hand gently with his. “I think that isn't nearly the worst thing we've gotten away with on the job.” She chuckles at that, and he grins. “I don't see why anyone ever has to know about it,” he adds. “The cameras are out, and I'm not planning to tell anyone. And I'm sure Ryan will keep it to himself. You may have given that kid another chance that he'll take.”

“Mmm,” Scully says, and he can tell by her voice that she is tired. “It feels so convenient, the cameras. Especially considering how much I asked about them earlier. Mulder, I bet Ryan either knew about the system being down or took it down himself, if this really was the first time he'd broken in.”

“Hmm,” he says softly. “Maybe.”

“I guess I just didn't think he was dangerous,” she whispers. “I feel so foolish. I feel like I haven't done my duty as an FBI agent. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“You don't have to know,” he says, and he intertwines his fingers with hers. “You don't.”

She makes a small sound that indicated she disagrees with him, but she doesn't argue. Their elbows bump together companionably. Her palm is cool under his. They fall into quiet again, hands clasped together under the sheets.

Mulder matches his breathing to hers, calm, and he is nearly asleep when he hears a low whistling sound, akin to a moan. The shutters of the windows rattle.

A sudden panic shoots through him at the noise. “Scully, did you hear that?” he whispers.

“It's the wind,” she says, her voice sleepy but hard. “Just the wind, Mulder.”

The wind howls against the glass again and Mulder shivers, crawling closer to Scully. “You sure?” he asks, and she nods, almost growly in her delivery. Scully does not fuck around when she is tired, and he senses she's already in a bad mood from the Ryan Caruthers thing.

But the sound is too human, too eerie, and Mulder can't ignore it. He never thought he'd be this much in regret because of a supernatural encounter, but this is the kind of thing that is too hard to let go. He's as embarrassed as Scully about tonight—embarrassed about how badly he wanted to see the ghost, and embarrassed (and fearful) of the repercussions it will bring.

He drops a light, impulsive kiss on Scully's hair before curling up closer to her than before. He doesn't particularly want to leave Scully anytime soon, not if he can help it. Not with the wind howling like that and with the eerie figure of the Specter hovering at the back of his mind. It's silly, but considering how their last run-in with ghosts went, he doesn't think he's overreacting. He holds her hand tight and lays close to her, and she doesn't protest, and he thinks that is what gives him the courage to say what he says.

He says, nose against her hair, hand on her waist: “Scully, do you want to come back to the house with me tomorrow?”

She says nothing; the only sign of surprise is the slight lilt in her breathing. He adds quickly, “Just… to look over that tip I got last week. The one about the river creature?”

“Oh?” Scully asks, and her voice is very nearly coy. “It doesn't have anything to do with what happened tonight?”

He rubs his nose into her hair; he is moving entirely on impulse now. “If it did,” he says softly, “would it change your answer?”

She's quiet. He can hear every breath. It goes on for so long that he begins to consider pulling away, but she hasn't let go of his hand yet.

Finally, she says, “I hope you're ready. I've been thinking of lots of rebuttals for your river creature theories.”

He laughs, a little nervously, a little relievedly. She squeezes his hand once before letting go. She shifts a little in bed, turning over on her side, but she doesn't move away. His chest is against her back, his arm against her hip, and she doesn't move away.

The wind wails and the shutters rattle, and he thinks that the heat must be broken because he's freezing, but they're together, and she's warm. She is so warm, and she's here, and he loves her. He presses his cheek briefly to the back of her head before settling in to go to sleep.

---

Joy leaves the broken necklace on her desk. It's so dark out, she'd probably just lose it, and she couldn't do anything with it tonight, anyway. She feels nearly naked without it around her neck, but she feels equally relieved at the absence. Her breaths are still ragged, her neck still stinging, her heart still pounding. She can't quiet leave the fright of the moment, sweat slicking her palms, a shivery feeling up her spine. She just wants to get home and fall asleep for a few hours before she'll have to wake up and go back into school. She realizes that tonight hasn't exactly made any progress in the way of getting this ghost out of her classroom, and her temples throb. Tonight seemed like an ending, but she doesn't see why it would be. The ghost is likely still there.

She rubs at her eyes with exhaustion, texts her husband to let him know she'll be home soon and starts her car.

The streets are dark, orange and black streamers hanging limply from street lamps and candy wrappers littering the streets. Joy yawns, making a left turn. Driving in the dark has always given her the creeps. She likes to think it's the product of moving to the country after growing up in the city: no lights, no noises, just endless black and silence. She turns on her brights, just because no one else is on the road, and hums absently to herself, drumming her fingers on the dashboard.

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, the radio springs to life. It's playing Monster Mash, and Joy never thought a goofy song like that would bring as much terror as this one does, because her hands were nowhere near the dial.

Spooked, frantic, Joy tries to reach out with her right hand and turn it off, but she can't move. Her hands are frozen, her wrists achey and her fingers spasming around the wheel in her attempts to move, but it's to no avail. She can't reach over and turn off the radio.

Her eyes yank from side to side frantically, the only part of her body she seems to be able to move. And then her foot moves without her meaning to. She presses down harder on the gas, increasing her speed far past the limit.

Joy tries to thrash, tries to break her hands free from the wheel or her foot from the gas, but she still finds herself frozen, helpless. She can't decrease the pressure. The bouncy sound of Monster Mash continues, too loud, echoing in her eardrums. She whimpers, just a little, as she shoots past 70 in a 35 zone. At least there are no other cars in front of her.

Her eyes jerk again, almost painfully, and land on the rearview mirror. There's no one on the road behind her, but there is a shape in the back seat. A hulking, humanoid shape that seems to be watching her.

Joy's breath catches in her throat, unable to take her eyes away, unable to look away. She is helpless. She can't make out the face of whoever, or whatever, is in the backseat, but she thinks it may be smiling. Smiling maliciously.

The next thing she knows, the shape seems to be lunging at her. Her hand suddenly moves, not of their own accord, swerving the wheel hard to the right.

The next thing she knows, everything is going black.

---

November 1, 2016

Willoughby Daily Press; Willoughby, Virginia

SEVERE CAR CRASH ON PINE TREE ROAD LAST NIGHT

Last night, a car swerved off Pine Tree Road and flipped in the adjacent field. The accident was estimated to take place a few minutes before midnight.

The car belongs to a Mrs. Joy Seers, who was reportedly driving the car when it crashed. Mrs. Seers reportedly obtained major injuries, and was transported to Willoughby General Hospital from the scene. No one else was harmed in the wreck.

Seers's husband was contacted, but declined to comment on his wife's condition. According to a source who requested to stay anonymous, Mrs. Seers is in a coma at Willoughby General, and it is unknown when she is expected to wake up.

The Willoughby Police Department declined to comment on the accident. It is assumed that no foul play was involved, although this is unconfirmed.

#xf rewatch #xf fanfic #i wrote this

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avengrsoneshots · 6 years ago

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can i have a suicidal peter parker and protective bucky barnes where Bucky starts to notice Peter's acting more closed off and faking a lot of his smiles and he gets a call from a panicking peter at like 2 am and Bucky goes and saves peter from himself (The ship name is WinterSpider)

TRIGGER WARNING UNDER THE CUT: SUICIDAL THOUGHT/SUICIDAL INTENTIONS If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts or actions you can get help here Written in 3rd Person POVWord count: 1,052

It was concerning. Bucky saw the way he pushed food around on his plate instead of eating. The way he slept in until noon. The way he didn’t talk about school or Ned or anything really. He was always in his room, lights off, music on, ignoring everyone. Whenever anyone would ask if he was ok he’d brush it off with a forced laugh and smile but you could see it in his eyes that he was hurting. Peter had recently lost one of his best friends to a car accident. Her name was MJ. He didn’t go to the funeral because he knew he couldn’t keep it together. May had been getting really sick recently but the doctors didn’t know what it was. May had decided she wanted to stay home to finish out the rest of her life instead of in hospital beds around strangers. Peter found it hard to go back there. He hated himself for leaving her all alone in a time like this but he wouldn’t have been able to hold himself together. He had gotten a call from May a week ago and everyone knew that it was a fight, but only Peter knew what was said. He refused to talk about May at all with anyone.

Peter used to go hang around the main area of his shared floor with Bucky and Steve. He’d watch TV with them, talk about his day, tell new jokes he’d learned, teach the old men about pop culture. He even got Steve to use the word yeet. It was honestly the highlight of Peter’s year.

“Hey Pete, do you want to come out and watch a movie with me and Steve? It’s Star Wars.” Bucky asked softly into the dark room. there was a slight shuffle in the pile of blankets and Peter made his way to the main room. Bucky and Steve were like older brothers to Peter, they protected him and gave him advice but they still goofed around with him and had fun.

They sat in a somewhat awkward silence and watch the movie until Peter spoke up.

“Am I selfish?” it caught both older men by surprise.

“In what context, because it’s ok to be selfish sometimes.” Steve stated

“I mean because I never go see May. I’ve practically moved all of my stuff out and it’s not like she’s well enough to come see me here. Not that she’d want to now anyways. I can’t go over there. I won’t be able to keep it together and I don’t want her to think I’m trying to make it all about me. She said I was just waiting for her to croak so I could move in with you guys. I don’t want her last memory of me to be hating me. Why does everything I love die?” Peter’s voice cracked towards the end of the sentence.

“Pete, that’s not selfish. That’s just looking out for yourself. If you think you won’t be ok when you go over there then it’s better for you to not. Plus, She’s your aunt she doesn’t hate you. She might’ve gotten mad but she’ll call and she’ll apologize. She’ll understand.” Steve said, Bucky put an arm around Peter’s shoulders and let him snuggle up against his side.

Towards the end of the movie Peter’s phone started to buzz.

“That’s her. I gotta take this.” He stood and left the room to answer the call. Bucky and Steve were hoping for a smiling Peter to come back saying everything was aright now, but he didn’t come back. When they checked his room they saw it was empty but the window was open. Maybe he had thrown on his mask and web shooters and went to go visit May after all.

At around midnight Bucky and Steve decided to go to bed, Peter hadn’t returned yet but he didn’t live there so it wasn’t in there place to worry about him, considering he was probably at his actual home with his blood related family.

2 am hit and Bucky still couldn’t sleep. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. Steve, on the other hand, was out like a light. Bucky’s phone started to buzz and he sat up without looking at the caller ID and answer

“Hello?” there was no answer from the other side

“Hello?” He tried again

“You’re up…” the voice sounded small and young. It was Peter.

“Hey Pete, what’s up?” There was a short pause then he heard sniffling

“Pete, what’s wrong? Did you fight with May again?”

“She’s dead, Bucky. I got a call saying she pass away when she took a nap. I went to go see her but I couldn’t. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep losing everyone I love. first my parents. Then Ben. Then MJ. Now May. She was all I had left. And she’s gone. I can’t keep doing this Bucky. I’m in a bad place. I can’t stop thinking. I’m scared.” Peter was sobbing at this point. Bucky had woken up Steve and put the call on speaker.

“Peter, where are you?” Bucky tried to keep his voice calm but he let a little quiver slip through.

“I-I don’t really know. I’m on a building. I think it’s the building that the coffee shop is in. I want to jump but I don’t know if I can…” Bucky’s heart sank. He knew Peter was in a bad place but he didn’t think it’d get this far.

‘I’m on my way Pete, I’m so proud of you for calling me.”

When Bucky arrived he saw Peter standing on the edge.

“Hey bud, why don’t we come over here and we can talk.” He noticed Peter’s clenched and shaking fists. Peter didn’t budge.

“Ok can I go over there with you?” Peter nodded slightly. A weight was lifted off of Bucky’s shoulders. They sat next to each other on the ledge. Bucky let Peter rant and cry and let it all out and only intervened when he started to lean forward. Bucky wrapped his arms around Peter and drug him backwards onto the roof. They laid for a couple minutes in each other’s arms

“It’s gonna be alright Peter. You’re gonna be ok. It’s gonna be ok. I promise.”

#WinterSpider #bucky barnes #peter parker #peter parker whump #tw: sucide mention #tw: suicidal thoughts #steve rogers #may parker #marvel #DaneWritesWhump #DaneWritesAngst #not my best

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jeanjauthor · 6 years ago

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Resting Writer’s Face

Just shared a post where black men have days & places where Resting Bitch Face is a thing...and it made me think of the fact that Resting Writer’s Face is also a thing, but I did not want to hijack that thread, because it is too important in tone and content, and this is like, veering away and doing a 270 loop to go off in a different direction.

With that said...

Resting Writer’s Face isn’t quite like Resting Bitch Face.

First off, what is Resting Bitch Face? Urban Dictionary and Wikipedia both list it as essentially the expression on a face (usually a female’s) that appears to a particular viewer to be mean, contemptuous, annoyed, irritated, cold-spirited, etc...when in actuality the person (again, the vast majority being female) is actually not feeling any of those emotions, or any other emotion, really.

It’s most commonly seen in females, because of Culturally Widespread Male Expectations™ that women are supposed to smile whenever a man is near, because females are supposed to be (pressured by culture & society) constantly pleasant and be upbeat and deferential and adoring and *gagging noises*...you get the point.

When a male does not receive this “beautification” of his world, he feels robbed of what he views as the “right way” that a woman should behave in his presence, or “the way that things are supposed to be.” And when he sees a culturally beautiful woman NOT smiling, he doubles-down on how “wrong” this feels...because doesn’t everything we consume in entertainment, media, culture, society, fantasy, etc, etc, all demand that Women Exist To Make The World More Beautiful For All (even the vast majority, and thust very mediocre, of) Men? *more gagging noises*

Resting Writer Face is...a little different.

It’s not really resting, for a start.

It can actually get pretty lively, even.

The “resting” part is still valid in the sense of unconsciously doing what it is doing. Because trust me, we writers aren’t always consciously thinking of what our faces are doing when we are, well, thinking.

Specifically, thinking about plots, characters, action sequences, dialogue, and the all important How Would The Character We’re Thinking About React In Such-&-Such Circumstances.

This. Happens. All. The. Time.

It happens at home oodles and lots (I’ll get to that in a moment), but mostly Resting Writer Face is a thing when it’s done in public. Because it happens when we’re out in public, walking around between one errand and the next, between car and work, work and lunch restaurant, work and car, car and dry cleaners, pet food store, whatever, wherever. And it happens simply because we’re thinking about, as I said, plotlines, character actions & reactions, dialogue, etc.

Talking to yourself in public used to be a shameful thing. Nowadays...not so much. So many people are conducting conversations on bluetooth headsets, into their phone at frikkin way too loud volumes that they’d never use to the person standing three feet away, but they use to the person on the other end of the phone three inches from their mouth, blah blah blah...but talking to yourself isn’t automagically a sign of mental health issues.

Besides, we’re usually talking to our characters, reciting bits of dialogue to test how it sounds out loud before committing it to a story, or we’re talking out our plotlines, or we’re poking at said plotlines or a particular scene to see where the holes are and whether or not we can patch them, or finding that perfect bit of clever dialogue that will goad one of the protagonists into slapping the speaker in outrage...

(My absolute favorite of that particular last one was from an old fanfic of mine, wherein one character goaded the other into slapping him by deliberately making their relationship derogatory by calling it nothing more than “a slap and tickle”...and ohhh boy, did she slap him! He honestly did not want to be horrid to her, but needed to get her to avoid him for a while out of pure plot reasons, so it worked very well. But I digress.)

However, even though it’s no longer publicly shamed, talking in public is still somewhat discouraged. So, a lot of us writers will go about our business thinking through the possible thoughts and dialogues and perfect one-liner quips for that dramatic moment in the story arc. We don’t say anything aloud, but we think it.

And that’s when Resting Writer Face comes into play. Because if we’re really invested in trying to find the perfect response, the perfect, “If ___ happens, then I (my character) would react in ___ way.”

And a lot of the time...our faces show those emotions, the grunts and grimaces, the scowls and grins, all in a mental rehearsal of our characters’ physical and emotional actions, reactions, and efforts...showing up unconsciously or subconsciously, or barely consciously, barely cognizantly, on our faces.

When we’re typing in front of a computer screen and another member of the household drops in on us and sees the Sometimes Very Scary Expressions our faces contort into during the mental gymnastics of feeling and thus recording the emotions we’re writing onto the .doc page (non-writers have no idea just how exhausting writing can be, for all it’s often “purely mental” in effort)...well, the first few times can actually be rather alarming for that other person.

I’ve had housemates and family members and friends all ask me if everything was okay, if I was mad at them, or upset at something they had done, and I”ve had to quickly break off what I was writing, give them a quick polite lighthearted expression, and reassure them, “No no, I’m (everything’s) fine! I’m just writing a really intense bit in my story! (No, really!)”

The first few times this has happened, I apparently looked pretty darn scary, and had to reassure them a few times that my Resting Bitch Face scowl or glare or whatever was actually Resting Writer Face, which is an actively emoting thing. That the emotions on my face weren’t my emotions.

By the fifth or sixth time I was getting interrupted...the other person usually just blinked, thought a moment, and asked “Writing hard?” and that was that, because yes, I was...and I’d usually stop and chat, or say, “Gimme a few moments” as I tried to get the thoughts in my head onto the page...which could sometimes stretch on to several minutes and I’d have to type some keywords to help me remember, or they’d say they’d come back later, and once I got it all out of me, I’d have to go look for them to find out what they wanted.

But that’s at home at the computer...so it’s obvious that I was writing. (clicketyclacking of the keyboard keys, etc, etc...)

When writers are out in public and our minds are busy with Writing Thoughts...we get Resting Writer Face. And by that, I mean Resting in the sense of relaxing our usual vigilance about Conforming To Cultural/Societal Expectations For Facial Expression Matching Publicly Acceptable Moods.

I’ve scared people by having Resting Writer’s Face about some fight scene, verbal or physical, while walking past those poor folks in public. Most of the times when I notice I’m scaring folks, I just quickly assume a more pleasant expression, or even say something along the lines of, “I’m not actually angry; I’m just thinking about something in a story I’m writing.” Which either gets me a “Ohhh, cool!” expression of relief or the Dubious Side-Eye of “Oookaaay, Weirdo” as they move quickly on their way.

...On the bright side, when I’m in dubious surroundings (catcalling males, or dimly lit sidewalks in less than safe areas, mostly), I will adopt a cross between Resting Bitch Face and Resting Writer Face. I will deliberately think about my protagonists being tough and badass and competently dangerous...and let those emotions and facial expressions take over. Not just my face, but the way I walk, the way I stand, the way I carry and present myself in a particular space. (I’ve actually even managed to get men to move out of my path by Doing This One Weird Trick.™ (lol))

I’ve also caught myself doing this to quell anxiety about things, like “What if a car crashes in front of me? How would I react to that?” or “what if someone tries to rob the bank while I’m in it?” or “What if someone at a nearby table in this restaurant starts choking? What is the Heimlich Maneuver again?” so on and so forth. These things are the stuff that isn’t even going to go into a book, but we’re still thinking it through.

Actually, a lot of people do this last one, not just writers...but I’ve found it’s most prevalent as part of what it’s like being a writer. And I’d definitely say the one group of people who are guaranteed todo it far more often than even writers do are actors. Because that’s their job, as actors.

So. Resting Writer Face. What it is, why it happens, how it differs from Resting Bitch Face, etc, etc.

Just remember that most of the time, we writers aren’t even aware that we’re doing it. We’re too caught up in the stories in our heads, both in trying to make them, and in testing how they play out, to see if any changes need to be made. And that’s not a bad thing!

I mean, if we’re working out a troublesome plot point (”How does my male protagonist get the female to ignore him for a month, so that the bad guys don’t try to kill her because of her interest in me? ...ooh, how about he makes her slap him, very publicly??”(or for whatever reason)), then it means we’re trying to make the story better.

And that’s a great thing for our readers...even if we make people a little wary of us at times during the story creation stages. At least, until they get used to the Writer Things™ we do.

...Also, this is why writing isn’t just what we do when we’re physically writing out the story. A lot of writing takes place in our heads before the words ever hit the page.

And because nobody pays us what everyone assumes writers get paid (not even 10% of what people assume, tbh), we usually are stuck doing all this hard mental word whenever we have a moment to spare...which includes when we’re out and about in public, doing our day job, running errands, buying groceries, you name it.

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