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foilfreak · 3 years ago

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Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 2

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Chapter 2:

The journey to Mother Miranda’s personal laboratory was much shorter and more enjoyable than the original walk to the meeting site, in Salvatore’s humble opinion.

Mother Miranda was mostly quiet, distant, and preoccupied throughout the duration of the walk, even more so than normal. That being said however, while this sort of behavior would usually spell disaster for whichever one of the 4 lords was forced to be in her presence during these sorts of moods, in this situation, Mother Miranda did not appear tense or agitated or hostile like she usually would be. Just lost in thought. As though she were only quiet because she was too busy thinking about something else to speak. She didn’t even seem to mind his various attempts at starting conversation, which surprised, but endlessly delighted, the mutant man.

‘Mother must be in a very good mood today. She hasn’t hit me or told me to shut up the whole time we’ve been together. Maybe she’s made another breakthrough with the cadou? I’d certainly be very happy if I were in her shoes’ Salvatore excitedly thought to himself as the woman in question stepped forward to unlock and open the large steel door of her personal laboratory, allowing Salvatore to step into the facility before closing and locking it again behind her.

“Moreau, do you recall the set of mutation experiments I began at the beginning of last year?” The raven mother asked, turning around and beginning to quickly make her way down the long, dark corridor.

“Y-you mean… the o-ones with the new c-cadou strain th-that I… that I d-developed… f-for you?” Salvatore stutters, breath labored and body struggling to keep up with the taller woman’s vastly larger steps.

“Correct” Mother Miranda says, turning a corner. “As impressed as I was with the final results of this particular strain, I’m afraid it still isn’t good enough. None of the subjects I implanted with cadou last year turned out to be favorable candidates.”

Salvatore stops in his tracks, a look of horror and agony on his face as news that he’d failed mother once again practically tears him apart from the inside out. “O-oh Mother… I-im so s-s-sorry to h-hear that… b-but don’t w-worry… I’ll-I’ll try h-harder next t-time… I w-won’t fail y-you again Mother, so p-please… please j-just give me a-another chance to get it r-right… i b-beg of y-you…”

Mother Miranda stops and turns toward the mutated lord, staring at him in silence as he drops to his knees and grovels at her feet, begging desperately for his failures to be forgiven.

“Off your knees, Moreau, this behavior is unbecoming of a Lord such as yourself. Besides, I never said that you were the one to blame for the lack of successful results, nor am I necessarily displeased by the fact that these experiments yielded failed vessels.”

Salvatore allows his gaze to rise to his mother’s face, where, true to her words, the parts of Miranda’s face that Salvatore could make out from behind her mask did not appear marred with the familiar expressions of anger and disappointment that the 4 lords were usually met with after another round of failed vessels.

“Y-you’re… you’re not upset with m-me?” The deformed man asks, his voice laced with shock and disbelief.

“No, my child, I’m not upset with you. While these experiments may have ended in failure, they did provide me with useful information that may prove to be pertinent to our mission in the near future. In fact, as I said earlier, the reason why I’ve brought you here is because I want to give you a gift, as a reward for all your incredible work. Did you expect me to be upset with you simply because this round proved unsuccessful as well? Do you really think so poorly of your loving mother, who works tirelessly to ensure her children are happy and rewarded for all their faith and trust in me?” Mother Miranda sniveled pitifully, turning her gaze away in mock dejection as Salvatore, horrified that he’d insulted and hurt her somehow, scrambles to his feet, gently taking both of Miranda’s hands into his own and holding the supple skin to his bloated and deformed face, desperately hoping this would comfort her.

“No no no no, o-of course n-not, Mother… I-I’d never expect s-something like th-that from y-you… and-and I k-know better… b-better than a-anyone… just h-how h-hard you w-work… not j-just on y-your experiments… but f-for all o-of us… too… you l-l-love us… you… love ME… I-I’ll always love y-you, Mother… always” Salvatore blurts, stumbling over his words as he tries desperately to comfort Mother Miranda, an effort he’s seemingly rewarded for, when Miranda takes one of her hands away and brings it back to the top of Salvatore’s head, once again gently brushing her hand against it.

Salvatore’s knees nearly give out from under him as the heavenly sensation washes throughout his body like a raging typhoon, leaving him feeling tired and weak yet hungry and wanting for more, though whatever that “more” was, Salvatore was quick to beat it back down deep within himself, knowing this was neither the time nor the place for him to be entertaining such… primal desires about someone like Mother Miranda, no matter how little he intends to act on them.

“Thank you, Moreau. You always know exactly what to say to make Mother feel better. You’re such a good boy” Mother Miranda says, making sure to put extra emphasis onto the last two words as she reaches forward and pulls Salvatore closer to her.

“G-g-g-gggg… good… boy… me?” Salvatore chokes, tears beginning to fill his eyes as Mother Miranda’s arms come to wrap around him, pushing the deformed man’s face to lean against the soft, feathery material of her bosom.

“Yes, Moreau. You’ve always been very special to me. From the day I met you, you’ve been such a good, well-behaved boy that I never have to worry about” Miranda begins, her face blank and expressionless as she passionlessly strokes Salvatore’s face. “No matter how simple the task, those 3 are always making mistakes of some kind and forcing me to come and clean up their messes after them, especially that snake Heisenberg. But you? No, never you, Moreau, not my special, perfect little boy who always tries his best to make Mother happy. Do you enjoy making Mother happy, Moreau?”

“Y-y-yES! Of-of c-course I do” Salvatore moans, his voice slightly muffled by Miranda’s chest as he violently nods his head in affirmation, tears freely falling from his eyes as his head swims deliriously from the endless wave of kind words and gentle touches.

“Good! I always knew you did. And for that, I'm going to reward you with something very special. Something to… keep you busy... while I’m away for a little while” The raven mother coos again.

Salvatore stops for a moment when the meaning of Miranda’s words finally registers in his brain. “While… w-while you’re… away? You’re l-leaving us?” Salvatore asks, his voice growing increasingly distressed with each word.

“Only for a short time, hopefully,” Mother Miranda answers, “but yes, at the end of this month, I will be leaving the village in order to attend to some very important business I have. I’m not sure how my journey will fare, however I'm optimistic that it will be the key necessary to finally getting my Ev- uh… pardon me; the key to finally achieving our goal of creating a perfect vessel. Doesn’t that sound nice, Moreau?”

“It-it does” the deformed man says quietly, still put off by the mention of Mother leaving, but not wanting to put a damper on his mother’s incredibly rare good mood. “But… where is i-it… th-that you’ll be g-going… an-and for h-how long?”

“Just down the mountain to pay someone a visit, however I have no idea when I'll be back. That will depend on how successful my mission goes, I suppose.”

Silence falls over the two as Salvatore, still upset by the news that Mother Miranda would be leaving, continues to take in the comfort and warmth of his Mother’s arms for just a moment longer, selfishly wishing that Mother held him more often. Eventually however, Mother Miranda does pull back from the superficial embrace, gesturing for Salvatore to follow her once more, which the deformed man begins to do without question.

“Of the 4 of you, you’re the last one to come and pick your gift,” Miranda says, unaware of the visible slump that Salvatore’s shoulders take on upon hearing this. “However, despite there only being one option left, it would appear as though your siblings have decided to spare you their usual games of trickery this time around. If anything, I think you might be the one to have ended up with the best deal after everything is said and done.”

Salvatore looks up at Mother Miranda with an expression of mild confusion, wondering what on earth she could mean by that. His musings are quickly interrupted however, when the two enter a large room filled with various pods.

“Of the 22 test subjects we started with last year, only 13 were genetically compatible with the cadou parasite, and even then, only 4 ended up surviving the full mutation phase. Despite their impressively stable conditions, they still aren’t suitable vessels for my purposes, however I felt as though it would be such a waste to just do away with them. So, with that in mind, I’ve decided that my gift to you all, before I must leave you for a time, is to give one test subject to each of you.”

“G-give? You’re… y-you’re giving us t-test subjects?” Salvatore repeats dumbly, not certain he understood where this was going.

“Correct” Mother Miranda affirms. “This is easily the most successful batch of mutations we’ve seen to date, and given the amount of time and effort I poured into making sure these last 4 survived until now, I’d at least like to see some use gotten out of them before they die or suddenly lose control of their mutations and go rogue.”

“Like… l-like what?” The hooded man asks nervously.

Miranda merely shrugs her shoulders, uncaring. “Anything you like. Housekeeper. Playmate. Labrat. Partner in Crime. Whatever it is you desire of your gift, you may have without question. And in the event they refuse you… well, you’ll at least have a fun little toy to chase after for a little while.”

“I... see...” Salvatore says quietly, growing less and less excited about this whole “gift” thing, now that he knows that his gift is just another person.

Another person to scream and wail at how unbelievably hideous and disgusting of a monster he looks, no doubt.

Without another word, Miranda heads over to the large control table located in the middle of the room, pressing a few buttons before 4 of the many identical pods begin moving toward them. Steam pours out the tops and bottoms of the metal pods as the large capsules slowly finish lowering themselves from their hung pedestals, displaying them directly in front of Miranda and Salvatore. The man in question stands anxiously in front of the still sealed door, nervously fidgeting with his fingers as he waits for Mother to show him his gift, a myriad of thoughts and fears and worries flying throughout the mutant man’s mind.

“The first 3 have already been chosen by your siblings, but the one on the far right is all yours” Miranda says, pushing another button that causes the singular pod in question to click open, its door slowly beginning to rise upward toward the ceiling.

Salvatore nods in understanding as he tries to avoid watching the door of the pod open, instead hyper focusing on what Miranda is saying as the tension in the room becomes so thick it feels as if it could be cut with a dull knife.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of waiting, the pod door finally finished opening, and in that exact moment, as the disfigured man’s gaze finally fell upon the sight of his gift for the first time, his eyes went wide in shock, his mouth dropped open in disbelief, and his hands fell limply to his side in complete and utter bewilderment at the sight that stood before him.

“That… th-that’s… for me?” Salvatore manages to croak out, his throat suddenly dry as a desert and the air from his lungs having left him the second before.

Raising his hand up toward the creature wired into the pod, the hooded man finds himself unable to look away, feeling almost mesmerized as his mind struggles to figure out whether all this is really happening, or if he’d finally succumbed to the insanity of his condition and dreamt all this up as a sick and twisted way of coping with his soul crushing loneliness. Either one was just as likely at this point.

“I’m sure you’ll still be quite pitiful on the day I have to leave, but at least this way you’ll have something to keep yourself occupied with until I return, yes?” Mother Miranda says smugly, clearly pleased by his reaction. “So, what do you think, Moreau? Do you like the gift I’ve gotten for you?”

It wasn't until after several moments of silence that Salvatore finally responded. After stuttering and slurring unintelligibly over several sentences worth of responses, 2 words, and 2 words alone, finally managed to tumble from the mutant man’s lips, his eyes shining as he finally reached forward enough to slowly and carefully intertwine his fingers with the small and delicate hand of the beautiful young woman that slept peacefully inside the pod.

“She’s perfect!”

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lotusss-flowerbomb · 4 years ago

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What We Have (4)

Viktor Drago x reader

Warnings: Smut

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and coming along on this messy journey, I hope you enjoyed!

Word Count: 2,206

********

Amara sat on your lap and rubbed her chubby little hands over your belly. She giggled as the babies kicked against her hands. Whenever she babbled to them, they kicked in response.

Adonis came out of the bedroom and sat across from you. Bianca grabbed your niece and went into the other room, so the two of you could have some privacy. Although he seemed to be okay with the thought of you and Viktor after the match, he'd been actively avoiding you.

You gave him his space, but it was almost time for you to give birth and you needed your big brother.

"Hey," you said awkwardly.

"What's up?" He greeted.

"I'm due soon, so I was just wondering if you were going to be there."

"I don't know. It depends on if I have anything scheduled," he shrugged.

"Really, Adonis?"

"I don't know what you want me to do."

"I want you to be there for me the way I've always been there for you. I need you and Viktor to put your differences aside for the sake of these kids."

He was silent. Of course he was being stubborn, it was in his nature.

"You know what? I'm scheduled to deliver in two weeks. You'd better be there or the second they release me, I'm coming for you." You stood to leave.

You weren't gonna argue with him. It wasn't his place to run your life. These two families were now connected whether he liked it or not. You said your goodbyes to Bianca and the baby and left.

"I can't see anything, Viktor. What are they doing?" You asked.

You were on the table and numb from the meds they’d given you for your c-section.

"You want me to look? I can't look." He said.

"Relax momma, everything is fine." You heard your doctor say.

Viktor kissed your forehead and held on to your hand.

"Baby boy is here," you heard her announce.

You could hear his tiny cries. A nurse set him on your chest and you kissed your baby boy's tiny little cheek. She took him away to get cleaned up.

"Alright, momma, we've got number two on her way."

You couldn't keep the tears from falling when you saw your daughter. She didn't cry, but her eyes were wide open.

"She's tough. Like you," Viktor lightly ran his finger over her hand.

They took her away to get cleaned up while the others worked on getting you stitched up. You were already drifting in and out of consciousness.

"Rest, printsessa, we will be here when you wake up," he said to you as your eyes slid closed.

When you opened your eyes Viktor was right by your side. It took you awhile to come to, but when you finally did, he kissed you.

Your nurse wheeled you to your room and brought in the babies shortly after. He helped you hold your hungry fussy baby girl. After you fed her your son was ready for his turn.

Soon after both babies were settled and fed, your mother came walking in with balloons. She gave you a hug and said congratulations to both you and Viktor.

You were smiling, but every few seconds your eyes would cut over to the door to see if your brother would make an appearance.

"Look at you two," your mother cooed down at the twins. "Hi, Anya. Hi, Creed. I'm your grandma."

You decided to enjoy your time with your mother and not stress about it. You'd be in the hospital for at least a week and this was about celebrating the life of your kids. Who just happened to be born on your father's birthday.

Viktor kept his distance. He watched as your mom snapped pics of you while you weren’t looking and listened to the way she spoke to you. It made him wish that he had the opportunity to share this moment with his own mother, but Ivan was flying in tomorrow and he’d share it with him. Just as he had every other special moment in his life.

"Viktor, come over here, so I can get one of all of you," your mother waved him over.

He was hesitant at first, but he walked over and picked up Creed while you held Anya.

"I don't really think that I should be taking photos right now, but do I look okay?" You asked him.

"You look beautiful," he said and kissed you at your temple.

Mary Anne snapped a photo. A perfect unplanned moment of the four of you. She may not be very fond of the thought of you and Viktor, but he made you happy and that's what was most important.

After taking the pics, Viktor went down to the cafeteria for food.

"He's not coming is he?" You asked your mother once you were sure he was out of earshot.

"I don't know, sweetheart," she said honestly. "But don't worry about your brother. He'll come to his senses and then he'll feel ridiculous for missing such a wonderful moment."

"Damn, I'm a little late and y'all talking about me."

Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice. Adonis walked in with Bianca and Amara right behind him.

You smiled, but the tears that were in your eyes still fell. You quickly swept them away.

"Wow, you look a mess."

"D!" Bianca pinched him.

"I'm just playing," he grumbled as he rubbed the sore spot.

You were all talking and laughing when Viktor walked back into the room. Everyone looked over at him.

"Oh, um, I will come back later," he quickly turned on his heels.

He knew how much you wanted your brother there, so he was willing to stay out of the way until they left. He just wanted you to be happy.

You nudged Adonis. "I can't walk, so you have to go get him."

"Why me?" He scrunched up his face.

"Mommy..."

"Adonis," she gave him that look.

He didn't argue. He left the room and jogged a little to catch up with Viktor.

"Aye, man, hold up," he stopped beside him. "I know we have our problems, but today we're celebrating. Let's agree to leave our issues in the ring."

Adonis put his hand out for a handshake. Viktor looked down at it and then back at him.

"Look, I can't go back in there without you. I am literally afraid of what they will do to me," he laughed.

Viktor couldn't help but chuckle. He reached out and took his hand. The two men brought one another in for a hug.

"Your mother is pretty scary. I didn't want to take picture today, but I was too scared to say no."

They both laughed as they headed back to the room.

"How do I look?" You asked Adonis.

"Terrible." He told you without hesitation.

"Donnie," you whined.

"I'm just playing," he laughed. "You look beautiful and I really wish dad was here to see it."

"Me too," you inhaled and exhaled.

"You ready?" He held his arm up.

"Ready," you grabbed on.

The two of you left the room and walked to the double doors and waited for them to open. Two weeks after giving birth, Viktor proposed to you. Of course you said yes, you loved him and didn't want to spend your life with anyone else.

Now, 8 months later, you were getting ready to walk down the aisle with your brother at your side. You made sure the photo of your father along with the charms on your bouquet faced outward. He wasn't able to be there physically, but you found a way to have him with you.

The doors opened and everyone stood. You walked down the aisle and smiled. Once you finally reached the altar, Adonis took his place beside you instead of sitting after giving you away. Your brother was your first best friend, so he was your man of honor.

You were so excited. Being surrounded by your closest family and friends as you married the one man in the world that you probably should've stayed away from. Although your relationship had caused a little friction between you and your family, you'd do it all over again for the end result.

"Maybe we should just bring the kids with us?" You said to Viktor as he held the car door open.

You were heading to a hotel that you'd be staying at for your honeymoon. You looked behind you at your mother and best friend holding the twins.

"No, we haven't had alone time since the kids were born," he said firmly.

He had agreed to go on just a weekend getaway since the thought of being too far away from them for too long made you physically ill. You thought you'd be okay, but the separation anxiety was getting the best of you again.

"They're gonna miss me."

"Look at them, they are fine," he lifted you up and put you in the passenger seat of the truck. "Seat belt," he instructed before closing the door.

When he came around to the other side and got in, he could see the tears in your eyes. He sighed loudly.

"Hey, the kids will be fine. If they need us we will be close, but you need a break."

You nodded in agreement. You did need a break and you wanted to spend time with your husband. You took a few deep breaths and calmed down.

Once you got to the hotel, you were feeling a little better. You couldn't wait to get out of your dress and relax a little.

"Babe, can you unzip me, please?" You turned your back to him.

Viktor slowly undid the zipper and kissed your shoulder after pulling it down. He trailed the kisses up your neck.

"Stop," you forced yourself to say. "I bought something for you. Sit down and get comfortable. I'll be right back." You ran into the bathroom and started the shower.

After 15 minutes, he was knocking on the door.

"Do I need to come in there?" He yelled through the door.

He was disappointed when he twisted the knob and the door was locked.

"I'm almost ready," you yelled back.

A few minutes later, you peeked out of a crack in the door. You saw Viktor stand up when he heard it open. You walked out with your robe closed tight.

He looked at the black strappy heels you wore and then up at the robe. He tugged on the belt just a little and watched the soft fabric come undone.

His jaw dropped and he got an instant hard on when he saw the lace yellow baby doll set. He circled you as he took it all in. Like a hunter ready to pounce on his prey.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" He kissed your neck.

Your eyes shut. He hadn't kissed you like that in two whole months. You'd both agreed to no sex the last two months before the wedding. You'd read in a relationship column that it makes the wedding night even more special.

Viktor argued in the beginning, but you were adamant, so he agreed. And tonight he fully intended to make up for all the lost time.

He pushed your thong aside and dipped his thick fingers inside of your slick core. You could feel his hard cock pressing into your back.

He turned you to face him, “Fuck, printsessa, I don’t think I can wait,” he picked you up.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed, laid you down and stood over you.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, suddenly feeling self conscious under his stare.

“Nothing. You look beautiful. Perfect.”

He slowly pushed inside of you. You gasped loudly as your body adjusted to him.

Damn, I’ve missed this. You thought to yourself as he rocked in and out of you.

He lifted your leg and put one foot on the bed. You grabbed at the sheets as he drilled into you without mercy.

"Fuck, baby, yessss!!" You screamed as that familiar pull started in your belly.

He put his hand around your throat and watched as you bit into your bottom lip.

"Aahh, fuck!" He growled. He was close to his own climax.

Your eyes rolled as your walls contracted around him. He choked you harder as he coated them with his seed.

You dug your nails into his wrist as you started cumming again. Nobody else but Viktor has ever been able to make your body do that.

He gently put your leg down and leaned over you, so he could kiss you. You tried to wiggle from beneath him, but he held you in place.

"Come on, we need to get cleaned up," you giggled as you tried to push him away.

"For what? You will just get dirty again," he planted sweet kisses on your neck.

You felt him growing hard inside of you.

"So soon?" You questioned.

"We've waited 2 months for this night. I hope you're ready." He said, before he turned you over onto your stomach and entered you from behind.

END

********

@titty-teetee

@bluestarego

@marvelmaree

@literaturefeen

@fandomfavesss

@savageiz

@scoop93535

@rochyu

#Viktor Drago #viktor x reader #viktor drago x reader #creed 2 #Smut #Lotusss Writes

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musical-chick-13 · 4 years ago

Note

And Theon bc I love him

WHAT A COINCIDENCE I LOVE HIM TOO (this answer is gonna be a combination of books and show)

Send me a character and I’ll tell you the following:

• Did they live up to their potential? / In what ways was their potential unachieved?

-I would say yes. The only negative I have about his general arc is his death (which, see below). But Theon from the very beginning was, though not a particularly nice person, still relatable. Feeling othered, wanting to be accepted by an immediate environment that doesn’t accept you, isolated from and ostracized by your family, and the tension that comes between serving the different types of familial relationships in your life. Theon has no idea who he is, tossed aside by his blood family for not growing up with them and being “soft,” aka sort-of moral and having emotions that aren’t selfish rage or smugness (which, yep, that second part is a mood, see: my entire childhood and how no one wanted to be around an “emotional” “soft” child). And from there, he spirals out of control in a way that, while certainly not admirable by any stretch of the imagination, is still understandable in the context of the narrative and his characterization. And from there, after going through hell and quite literally losing himself (even to the point of straight-up denying rescue), he builds himself back up gradually, to the point where he expressed extreme regret for what he’s done, helps an innocent woman escape a truly horrifying situation, acknowledges that his family is generally garbage, and (in-show b/c again books aren’t finished), helping to restore his sister to power, rescuing her after his PTSD relapses while confronting Euron, and ultimately opting to protect the Starks come hell or high water in order to genuinely atone for what he’s done. He is no longer conflicted because he wants to do the right thing, and that right thing is defending the kingdom from the White Walkers and making sure Sansa and Bran are safe. And it’s no longer about fulfilling a duty or finding a family to fill the void. Because now he has found himself. I will contend that Theon has one of the best, most nuanced, most organic redemption arcs of all time. I will forever be grateful that I got to see that piece of storytelling unfold.

Although, I would love to know what he thought of Dany. A missed opportunity, that.

• How they negatively and positively affected the story.

-Positive: His arc of identity and finding where your loyalties lie ties into the overall theme of “How do you find yourself in a world where goodness, authenticity, and honesty are often punished and increasingly rare?” And it proves that governmental politics aren’t the only defining factors in decisions: familial politics can be just as difficult and dangerous, which adds yet another rich, complicated layer to the overall story. He has a genuine, honest-to-Drowned-God redemption arc, which is...not really present anywhere else in the story (no, Jaime is not on a Redemption Quest, I will die on this hill). But I think the biggest draw of Theon’s presence is that it deconstructs the whole “Character Revenge Fantasy” idea. He does bad things. We want him to be punished. But not like that. No one deserves that. How far is too far? What does retribution really look like? Given how easily that idea can be abused and go off the rails, is retribution even something to strive for? What is the point of using extreme violence/torture/mutilation/breaking someone’s psyche when it doesn’t really accomplish anything? Isn’t atonement and genuine justice a better option? It certainly was for Theon. He could only piece himself back together and do anything meaningful once he was out of his abusive environment. All of these are imporant questions that are posed by his existence in the narrative.

-Negative: Idk if I have much to say here. My biggest problem is his death (see below), but that’s not really a negative story effect so much as...being disappointing and narratively irrelevant. I gotta say, his introduction via his sister was...really weird. I genuinely have no idea why GRRM wrote that. It never came up again or had any kind of narrative ramifications and kind of cast a strange, uncomfortable light on his relationship with Asha/Yara for the remainder of the story. I can ignore and enjoy their later relationship it if I don’t think about it too hard, though, so I guess I’ll chalk it up to GRRM having a Bad Idea.

• What my favorite arc for them is.

-All of it?? Theon’s journey is kind of...one big arc, which is why I think it works so well. He has this overarching redemption plot which spans the entire series and informs every decision he makes (for good or for bad, depending on where in the aforementioned journey he is). The redemption arc isn’t bogged down with side plots or other pieces of narrative clutter, meaning it has time to grow and, thus, be gradual and realistic. If I had to choose a specific point, it’s probably when he tries to reintegrate back into society via supporting Yara. Gaining the Iron Islands’ support for her ruling, spiriting away with Euron’s fleet, and ultimately rescuing his sister after her capture. He can’t just go back into society. He’s scared. He has really bad PTSD. But he recognizes that putting his home in good hands is something bigger than just him because it’s Yara’s home, too. I just...I really love family relationships, y’all.

• What I think of their ending.

-I’m not really sure how I feel about this one. I get that the series is GrimDark™ and that people who make the right choice and fight for good die all the time, but Theon dying just felt...wrong. To me.

And, like...I get it. It makes sense to parallel his original descent into villainy (cemented by executing those two boys and pretending they were Bran and Rickon) with him dying to protect Bran himself. It ties into the whole very common trope of completing a full redemption arc by committing a completely selfless act at great personal cost. It’s kind of like the whole Missy thing in Doctor Who (which...hoo boy, that post is coming, make no mistake), where selfishness is directly opposed by making the ultimate sacrifice with no motivation for personal gain. And the fact that the last words he ever heard were “You’re a good man?” I cannot even begin to describe how much that makes me sob. But...honestly, I’m really tired of this idea that redemption has to end in death in order to be achieved or “complete.” I think it’s much more poignant to have a redeemed character live to help build a better world. Because what’s the point of telling people to be better if the “reward” is death? No one’s going to want to reform themselves if they think that’ll be the result.

I think the thing that Bugs Me™ the most is that Theon never really got to have a moment of peace when he was alive. Sansa gained the North’s love and at least had a secure childhood. Ned and Cat were happily married for years. Arya had parents who loved her and a good relationship with Jon. Jon fell in love with Ygritte and found his Night Watch Bros, and Robb (in show verse) had some very happy moments with Talisa. Davos put great stock in what he considered fulfilling friendships with Stannis and Shireen; Brienne was treated respectfully by Renly, Catelyn, and Sansa; Missandei and Grey Worm had each other and their friendship with Dany, who herself had many personal successes in her quest for the Iron Throne and saw the death of her abusive brother. Cersei even had moments with Jaime (who himself had several notable military victories and at least some time with Myrcella, as well as being gladly and deeply in love, however dysfunctional that love was), times when she successfully fought off enemies (including her dad), and some sweet moments with Tommen, as well as a huge victory via blown-up sept at the end of season 6. Theon was treated as a second-class family member by the Starks his whole life by being “traded” to them as a condition of war resolution AS A BABY, is immediately disparaged and mistreated by his immediate family when he tries to return to them, makes terrible decisions that almost cost him his conscience completely, is brutally tortured by Ramsay, is on the run with his sister from Euron almost immediately after, and has a PTSD attack that ultimatly results in him having to launch a rescue mission. And then he fights ice zombies. And then he dies. He never really...got to be happy at all? There was never any kind of “win” for him. Not even survival. The narrative couldn’t even give him that.

TLDR: Theon’s death seemed less shock-value-y than others (like, for example, Shireen or Missandei or, heck, Melisandre even), and it isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever seen. It’s narratively-informed and it makes sense as an emotional through-line, but, ultimately, Redemption Cemented By Selfless Death is a tired trope, and I honestly thought this story (which...you know...serves as a deconstruction of common fantasy tropes/book tropes in general) was better than that.

• When I wish they had died. / If I think they should’ve died.

-So here’s where we get personal™ kids.

So, it’s no secret that I am...severely mentally ill. I’ve talked about expression/presentation of mental illness in regard to Cersei a lot on this blog, and how that (as paradoxical as it may seem) helped bring a sense of comfort and emotional resonance to me. Theon, post-Ramsay, has, I think, a very clear case of PTSD. Theon is one of the few characters I’ve seen where his mental illness isn’t the cause of the bad, violent, dangerous choices he makes. It only takes root after he has made the decision and conscious effort to better himself, and it, rather than demonizing him, serve to humanize him. His trauma didn’t define him. And although a PTSD attack led to him unintentionally losing Yara to Euron’s capture, he makes every effort to rescue her, a goal he does end up achieving. It is so rare I get to see a character who goes through these things, successfully fight them and come out with positive qualities at the end. Like...switching topics a bit here, Jaime going back to King’s Landing to (try to) escape and ultimately die with Cersei made sense to me because, as Jaime says, he is a hateful man. He never made much of an honest effort to be anything else. And he never truly wanted to be good; he just wanted to be liked. He wanted to adopt some personality that would make him feel less disconnected from the rest of the world. But Theon...genuinely feels remorse for everything he’s done. He makes a concerted effort to do everything in his power to improve the lives of people he believes are good and deserve to be safe. So, just...killing him off in a Completely Selfless Sacrifice (like...you know how a lot of mentally ill people put themselves through suffering-like OCD rituals, bottling feelings, self-harm, even suicide-in a misplaced attempt to “help” or “protect other people”) seemed antithetical to everything we saw of his arc.

Ultimately, with such a humanizing, empathetic portrayal of trauma and mental health struggles, seeing Theon be killed off just...pissed me off. I am so tired of seeing mentally ill characters die. I really want to believe that I can live through and thrive in spite of the things that afflict me, and I get example after example of characters not being allowed to do that. It feels awful, quite frankly. And it makes hope that much harder.

I also just feel like...there was nothing the story gained from his death? I get the thematic parallels as mentioned earlier, but it didn’t really move the story forward in any significant way. It didn’t motivate other characters to do anything, it had no political ramifications, it didn’t serve to contribute to any kind of happy ending or commentary on society, it just...was sad. Again, I thought this story was better than that.

#theon greyjoy #got #my son #mental illness in media #meta #redemption arcs #tw: self harm mention #tw: suicide mention

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 5 years ago

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5sos Lyrical Analysis

A/N: Hi! I just wanted to start this off with a huge thanks to everyone that sent me in lyrics. This project has been two fold: Part one is just looking at certain lyrics, for my found poem series. This just means I want to use and even respond to certain lyrics in my poems. I compiled them into two separate lists:

Find Youngblood here.

Find CALM here.

The second part was to take a close look at the overlap in lyrical content between Youngblood and CALM. This is NOT a complete analysis of their lyrics. I wanted to make that clear. I am by no means intending on making a complete analysis of their lyrics. I am not even attempting to make a completely analysis of these two albums, though I’ll touch as many basis as possible.

Please note: I am using the phrase ‘narrator.’ One, this is an old habit carried on from all the close readings I did on poetry. There’s typically, out of respect, a division between the author of the work and the narrator of the piece presented. These two can, and sometimes do, overlap, especially in forms like poetry. But I feel it’s important to use ‘narrator’ even in this analysis. Old habits die really hard and sometimes never do. But also because it feels more respectful to assume a collective unit and unified front rather than trying to piece apart the personal experience to a specific member since I am looking at just the lyrics, I’m not scoping out Twitter, or IG, or Cocktail Chats. I know those connections are there. The only thing I wanted to focus on was the content of the lyrics as they are presented, solo, nothing else. I recognize and understand that each member is bringing a unique experience to the table and there is plenty more in these songs if those other pieces are added.

These are gonna be a little disjointed. I’ve been staring at lyrics and notes for two weeks at this point, almost. I’m sorry it’s not necessarily a more cohesive front. So please enjoy! And feel free to send your thoughts!

All that are below are my personal opinions.

I’m just going to hit the ground running. I’ll be including pictures of the chart and then a paragraph of my thoughts below them.

CW: Mentions of drugs (recreational and prescribed)! Just in case anyone is sensitive to that.

Enjoy below!

Youngblood deals with heartache, but there’s an internal struggle on how to heal and move on. So in songs like “Better Man” and “Monster Among Men” that internal struggle is seen via introspection. In CALM, the same sense of struggle is seen in “Red Desert” and “Old Me”. However, an interesting deviation occurs in the lyrics of “Teeth” where now there’s a very specific identification of a person that the narrator sees as causing them turmoil. I’d like to note in both albums there’s a clear you present in both albums, which is a source of heartbreak and pain and even that you is addressed in several songs. However, “Teeth” stands out because of the you just being transformed from just a human that receives and dishes out pain, into the personification of a devil. This you in a way seems to have lost their humanity. And perhaps to the narrator there is a small appeal to that, with the addition of “put your hands on me.” An important thing to note is that while Youngblood and CALM never fully resolve their issues, but there is growth and maturing that’s heavily seen in CALM.

In some ways, I am about to state the obvious: Fire is destructive and flames takes no prisoners. However, an interesting thing about something that is destroyed is that it leaves in its place the opportunity for something new, and potentially better to be planted. “Valentine” leaves behind a feeling of combination, intertwining with “so deep, your DNA’s being messed with my tough/ Can’t beat us/ So real, fueling the fire until we combust”. And even though it seems to lead to an explosive end, the point here seems to be much more focused on the journey, riding the high no matter what. This is a theme, that I think, heavily seeps through Youngblood. Youngblood seems less focused on the results and much more focused on the journey, the ups and downs, the pleasure and pain. There’s a search in Youngblood, a quest for answers that in some ways CALM answers. One such answer can be see in CALM’s “Old Me” with the line “Ashes on the floor, but I’m walkin’, walkin’, walkin’ out of here alive.” Even though the journey might of ended in flames and destructive, the narrator still remains, they are still able to come out on the other side of everything they have endured. Another answer resides in “Lover of Mine” where the narrator is asking in some ways that their loved one to use fire for rebirth of the relationship with the lines, “All of my regrets and things you can’t forget/ Light them all up, kiss them goodbye.”

On the opposite end of the search and possibly more aligned with yearning, in Youngblood with “Babylon.” The chorus centers around taking the adventure of love to it’s highest point but the aftermath of the crash as well “We both said we’d love higher than we knew we could go” and “Burn to bright, now the fire’s gone, Watch it all fall down.” I will come back with more on Babylon further on.

A lot of Youngblood is a struggle of man vs. himself, an internal struggle to let go, to move on, to figure out one’s identity. In CALM that struggle remains present, but a new conflict is presented, in the form of a relationship. We can see in Teeth the narrator has started to directly reference a “you” where conflict now resides, “Some nights you’re the only thing I know/ Only thing burning when the night grows cold”. I like to conclude that there is a hot and cold aspect to the relationship that the narrator is seeing. In a previous line, “Sometimes when I look at you, I see my wife,” the narrator expresses that there are some redeeming qualities, that there is some good. Whether not this is the exact same relationship as discussed in Teeth is not a question I want to undertake, however, in “Lonely Heart” there’s a reference back to the bad, “Our house on fire, we’re burning/ We dance inside, you’re hurting.” Not all that glitters is good proves itself right once again.

I combined the light and dark with the night and day imagery. I did so for space sake. This could easily be double the size it is currently, but also because there is sometimes the passage of time associated with the both light and dark and night and day. They are transitions. The transitions in Youngblood and CALM occur with lyrics like “I saw you looking brand new overnight” from “Lie To Me” “Call me in the morning to apologize/ Every little lie gives me butterflies” from “Teeth” and “I don’t wanna kill my time with anyone else/Dancing in the dark till the sun comes” from “Kill My Time”

I also choose to separate out the light and dark from other color imagery because of the way it echoed and resonated with daylight, moonlight, midnight and creating shadows in the lyrics. There’s a very specific sense of time in some songs. In Lie To Me we get the reference “3:00 AM and the moonlight is testing me” paired up right against “if I make it till dawn it won’t be hard to see/ I ain’t happy.” The passage of time, or rather the supposed passage in Lie To Me, illustrates how things can change, or be shaped and molded.

A pretty cool thing I noted is that there’s references to time with “midnight, daylight, 3:00 AM, tonight” and that brings along the brightness of and the absence of the sun and light where as in particular with No Shame the only reference to light if from a camera flashing. This made me wonder more about the appearance of light and perception. There is a face that the narrator knows is only seen captured by photographs and while at events with the bulbs of a camera and the true face of themself that only they would get to experience.

I included this section about drugs and alcohol to illustrate a certain aspect of growing up. I’m not attempting to romanticize any use of drugs, alcohol, or nicotine. These are statements, from the narrator, that yes they have used them. But this is about the narrator’s experience. And I, as little old me, ask is that you please be careful out there!

Back to the lyrics, it’s fascinating to see how the relationship with substances as evolved. If we start towards the end of Youngblood, we get a tale of the narrator and their best hosting a party while parents are out of town, having the cops called on the party, and then riding out in the car, continuing the party, but at a much smaller capacity in “Best Friend” to a very helpless feeling in “Why Don’t You Love Me” with it’s line, “Few drinks deep at a table for one. and then we expanse to “Get you high when I’m high” and “Sugar coated brain, the fluid ain’t to blame, for the sugar coated pain” in “Empty Wallets” to a memory, the reality that even parts of our life journey that weren’t great for us can still be missed with the lyrics in High “And I’ll always miss the memories of the morning we were high.’ The question can continue further to the point: Does the mentality create a challenge for recovering and moving on? And I personally think, sometimes yes it can. In other times, we can still remember those moments but ultimately realize that there is better progress made by moving forward.

We do get a reference to Xanax. Notably, it is a benzodiazepine which are notoriously hard and dangerous (if not done right and with professional help) to get off once a person starts using them. But they are effective for some. Done with my tangent now, let’s get back to the focus: The lyrics in “No Shame” in which the narrator sees the “you” or significant other dumping their pills and being “so sick” of them is really crucial. I think it touches on how hard trying to get better can be for the person experiencing it.

On a much lighter note though, we can move to colors! I personally see a lot of color (or feel like when I’m listening to certain songs I should be wearing a certain color, which I’m sure sounds crazy) when I listen to Youngblood. I was intrigued though to look for the use of color and even images that evoke a certain color. I didn’t find a whole lot of it, including CALM. Which seems pretty consistent. I don’t see a lot of visual components to their lyrics. The soundscape of the albums appears to be the backbone for a lot of the colors, I feel. And the emotional impact seems to the their larger focus when they write.

Particularly cool lines that have color or color imagery in them, in my finding were “Fragile, always ‘about to fall just like sand/Castles” from “Monster Among Men,” “We’re classic together like Egyptian gold” from “Valentine” “It was more than just a neon weekend” from “Woke Up In Japan” and “Red, red desert/ Heal our blues/ ...Twilight moments with you” from “Red Desert”. The twilight line in Red Desert gives a purple vibe, or at least I see the color purple there and I can only wonder if it’s because I was prepped beforehand with the colors red and blue. However it works, I think it was a brilliant choice to couple twlight after it, to paint a full picture. “Neon weekend” should just be tattooed across my forehead because it gives off such a vibrant and bright life that nestles in very well with the energy of Youngblood’s entire album.

A slightly related note, I pulled a couple instance of the phrase “heart” for this section. I wasn’t sure if others associated the color red with it. I did however think that the use of “blood on my shirt” “roses” and even “sirens” left me with the impression of colors, specifically blue and a small bit of blue for the sirens.

There were two really strong parallels when it came down to the use of “dancing” throughout the albums. In “Ghost of You” we get the lines, “Dancing through our house with the ghost of you/ ...And I’ll chase it down with a shot of truth/That my feet don’t dance like they did with you”. It’s almost direct parallel is in “Lover of Mine” with it’s lines “Dance around the living room/Lose me in the sight of you/I’ve seen the red, I’ve seen the blue/ Take all of me.” I personally wonder if one could spin this, as so that Lover of Mine could take place before Ghost of You. However, that’s the poet and author in me looking for the story and strings.

A crazy parallel I noticed was between “Empty Wallets” and “Lonely Hear” I promise here I won’t be pulling the red strings. In Empty Wallets there’s the sentiment of hurting and forgiveness, with of course that blood pumping rush of youth with, “Living our lives/ Dancing on empty wallets/ Spend it all on you” and “I always believed in second chances/ I always believed in you”. And it sorts bumps against and shares a space with “We dance inside, you’re hurtin’” and “Can I get a second chance? Can I have another dance? Can I have another life with you” from Lonely Heart, where we see this urge with the narrator to make up for their wrongdoing and recognize the pain caused to the other person in this relationship.

I can’t talk about Youngblood and CALM without mentioning the strong growth that’s come from the former to the latter. It would be an utter disservice to the different roles these albums play. Youngblood is so much about loss and growing up and fumbling through life in a way where the counterpart CALM is more about finally get a handle on all those questions and growing from them.

The strongest parallel I gathered was from the insistences in Better Man and Old Me. I recognize that Better Man overall has this echo of love, and finding someone else that helped them through the growing pains. But I think it’s worth noting that in the context of Old Me there’s an acceptance to the fuck ups, there’s an acceptance shit had to go bad to finally find what was wrong. I think the strongest lyric to this point is in Old Me “Another round, here we go, going in blow for blow/ Look into the mirror, take the punches that I throw” and “Had to fuck it up before I really got to know me/ All of the mistakes I made, I made, I made, I made/ Whatever the price I paid, I paid, I paid, I paid.”

I added a chart about the phrase “letting go” of which a lot of it is about how it’s hard to let go. Which I mean, is very accurate and relatable. The most explicit example is in “When You Walk Away” with the lines “I’m bad at letting go/ Won’t you let me down easy?/I can’t let you go” this sentiment is paralleled several times in CALM as well, one example in particular is in “Not in the Same Way” with the lines “You say, ‘Go’ I won’t leave” and “Turn right around, throwin’ rocks at your window.” If walking away was easier, I don’t think we’d have the albums that we got from the band. I wanted to include this section with change and growth but it would just be too long and too much. So I broke it up, chart wise.

Alas, I’ve returned to Babylon! First though, I want to touch on overall on the way this chart is set up. I tried to explicit lyrics of “fatal love” but I did expand my criteria. So it if it looks a little wonky and long, I do apologize.

Now, some really cool overlaps I noticed where between “When You Walk Away” and “Not in the Same Way.” It’s the particular phrasing on how gut wrenching love can be sometimes. In “When You Walk Away,” the narrator states with the opening! which is a really crazy but strong way to open “Cut me open, take my heart/ So we’ll never be apart.” When we look at “Not In The Same Way” we get a very similar wording “Rip my heart out and leave, on the floor, watch me bleed.” The first song, “When You Walk Away” is a bit more a plea to be saved from the heartache and “Not in the Same Way” is more of a statement, it’s more like the narrator saying this is what you’ve done to me.

Okay, we all know how much I love Babylon. If not, check out this post. But to summarize why Babylon fits into this narrative of fatal love, it’s because of the cyclical nature of this relationship that the narrator is in. A historical reference Babylon alludes to the fact that the narrator knows this relationship wasn’t truly built to last. Babylon was built, destroyed, rebuilt, and then destroyed again. And this relationship seems to keep burning at both ends, almost falling apart and then it’s saved, only for it fall.

To quote myself from the Babylon post, “ ‘Your short fuse, my half-truths are not amused.” like both y’all are our contributing to the problem, one is EXPLOSIVE, one is reserved and that’s a combination bound to cause friction in a relationship, romantic or other, and there’s no blame in the way it’s said. “I wish we had a clue to start new.” LIKE, clearly this shit isn’t working but neither one of us knows how to really fix it besides to watching the flame burn out and when it burns, she roars, she takes down everything with it, i.e. “We watch it all burn down.”’ Alas, we’ve gone back to that destructive nature fire. And we’re with the narrator where all that is left are the ashes. Love is fatal because it really can destroy everything that we’ve only known.

The next few charts are just for funsies, I did some more direct comparisons. If you want further thoughts, you can hit me up. But this post is already miles long! Thanks for reading!

____

Tagging: @compulsiveidiota @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @5-secondsofcolor @calumscalm

#calum hood #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #michael clifford #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos CALM #5sos youngblood #CALM #youngblood #lyrics

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reidsrecs · 4 years ago

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Remembering You - Chapter 1

By: Kally and Abby

While Spencer is away on a case, the reader figures out she is expecting his child, but only to get a call from Garcia that he has gotten into a horrible accident. Which will change their lives for the worse and causes him to lose some of his memory, which includes who the reader is. How far does the reader have to go? To remind Spencer of who she is, to Remember You.

Category: Fluff and angst.

Warnings: Mentions of Injury.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/n: This is our first time writing fanfic, so please bring constructive criticism and positive feedback!! We hope that you will enjoy this story as much we had writing !!! Have fun on this journey ;)

Memories

** Week 3**

(Y/n) woke up dreading the feeling knowing that Spencer is not by her side, pulling her back to his chest, holding her, and not wanting her ever to leave his side as if to stay in bed with him forever. (Y/n) sighs when reaching out to get her phone knowing that he hasn't replied to the fourteen missed calls and the several text messages that she has left over the past two weeks while he has been on the recent case. Thinking that it has been two weeks, she knows this one must be a tough case, and she understands that he has more important things to do than to be texting her. One text or call of saying hello would be nice, but she assures herself that he is okay. She is off right now instead of being in the field with the rest of the team because Hotch insisted she takes this case off since the previous one was hard on her. (Y/n) finally gets the courage to crawl out of bed, lifting the heavy blankets off and taking her phone off the charger as she makes her way to the kitchen to make breakfast. Suddenly as (y/n) makes it to the kitchen, she feels bile running up her throat, making her run to the bathroom quickly, and throws up her dinner from the night before into the toilet. As she leans her head away from the toilet, she remembers what she could of the night she was wasted at the bar as a celebration to a successful case.

Spencer observes (y/n) as she is taking shot after shot, totally getting out of hand with the drinking. He smiles to himself as (y/n) tells jokes to the rest of the team, making no sense at all. The young doctor sees that (y/n) catches him staring at her; they hold that eye contact until she breaks the silence with a slurred remark saying,

"You look pretty cute staring at me like that," while giving him a cheeky wink.

Spencer blushes taken back from her words, and replies,

"U-um, thank you, you look beautiful tonight (y/n)."

She giggles at his response while she takes another shot of her favourite drink, lime-flavoured tequila, the warm liquid burning down her throat. As the night progresses, more and more people from the bar leave without a hurry, including the agents, leaving Spencer and (y/n) sitting at the bar table alone. While Spencer sips on his third glass of water that he's been slowly drinking all night, he subtly watches (y/n) drink her final last shot. As she stumbles out of her chair, she states that she is going to call a taxi. In response, Spencer gives her a puzzled expression thinking that she would ask him to drive her home first since they are such close friends. Before (y/n) can dial the taxi, he speaks up, offering to take her home. She doesn't give much of a response, more of a slow, exhausted nod, Spencer seeing that she is about to pass out, picks her up, and she doesn't give any struggle. On the car ride back to her apartment, he looks over to her, softly snoring, thinking back to the comment she made earlier that evening, questioning himself if she meant it. Denying himself that she did mean it, and it was her drunk self-talking. Back at her apartment, he lays her down in bed, just as Spencer is about to leave he hears a quiet mumble from (y/n),

"Stay with me ??"

, while lazily patting the other side of the bed. Spencer cautiously obliges not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. (Y/n) feels the bed sinking while he awkwardly sits against the headboard, making a distinct distance between them. As he sits there, he spots a book filled with all of Edgar Allen Poe's stories. He's intrigued because he has the same copy, so he picks it up, flipping the pages to his favourite story.

"Did you know that Edgar Allen Poe often wrote with his Siamese cat on his shoulder?" He chirps in a soft whisper.

(y/n) being too tired to use words, she replies with a soft hum and moves closer to him, slowly curling into his side, wanting to be close to him. Spencer stiffens by her actions, but he puts himself at ease to not make the moment awkward. After a while of reading, his eyes start to droop, wanting too close, so he moves to put the book on the side table where he found it and turns off the lamp while doing this all very careful to make sure that he doesn't wake the sleeping girl next to him. He snuggles up close to her, not wanting to forget this moment. The night quietly goes by when Spencer is rudely awakened by (y/n) running to the bathroom to vomit all the alcohol that she consumed earlier that night. He runs into the bathroom to hold back her hair and rubs her back softly. (y/n) is startled from his actions, but slowly looks over to him and says,

"You know, I meant what I said last night, you are pretty cute." Spencer looks down at her and gives her a warm smile. That is where it all began.

(Y/n) smiles back at the memory of that night, wishing again that Spencer was there to hold her hair back just like he did when she was hungover. She winces when she feels the urge to puke again, so (y/n) leans her head over the toilet to let out the remaining contents she has left to give. After (y/n) feels like she isn't going to puke anymore, she decides not to have breakfast and just heads to the living room. As she sits onto the couch, her phone dings, she checks the notification and sees that it is her period tracker. She looks at her phone with wide eyes, shocked to see what it has to tell her.

You are two weeks past your period date!! Please go to the nearest pharmacy and check to see if you have a baby on the way !!;)

(Y/n) curses under her breath while she goes to take a quick shower knowing that she might know the answer to this crazy new information. As Spencer and her have just started trying for a baby, (y/n) didn’t expect that it would happen so quickly. She dresses in a rush and snatches her keys off the kitchen counter and runs out the door. Arriving at the pharmacy and going straight to the health and safety aisle to grab three different brands of pregnancy tests to make sure. She paces to the front counter. When she reaches the cashier guy, he blushes and awkwardly pauses, and then mumbles a small stuttery

"C-c- congratulations ma'am, if it's positive, would you be excited?,"

while giving a nervous chuckle. (Y/n) looks at him with an irritated expression wondering why he was so nosey, she replies with a sassy manner,

"Is it any of your damn business if I am or not?"

feeling a slight pang of guilt with the tone she has replied with, knowing that he didn't mean any harm. She quickly paid and used long strides to get to the bathroom at the back of the store. On the way back (y/n) can already picture the image of Spencer holding their child as if it’s the most valuable treasure. Seeing the way he is with godson, Henry, she knows he would make an amazing father.

She enters the bathroom and locks the door behind her. (Y/n) sits down on the toilet and takes all three of the tests. After she is finished, she sets a timer for three minutes, while she is waiting, her nerves get to her, making her pace around the small clean bathroom. Who knew that three minutes could take so long. As the timer that she had set went off, (y/n) looked down to see that all the results showed a positive symbol. In shock (y/n) sits back on the toilet, puts her hand over her mouth, and stares at the small plus sign in front of her. She looks back one more time to make sure the test is positive and then puts them back in her purse. She's so excited that she didn't even notice the happy tears that were sliding down her cheeks. (Y/n) wipes them off her cheeks, then thinks about the future she and Spencer will have together. This will be a long journey, but she knows it will be worth it in the end, and the thought of her and Spencer being a family made her stomach feel like hundreds of butterflies were in it. Since (y/n) is eating for two, she thought to herself; she might as well stop and get something to eat at an In and Out. As she pulls through the drive-thru, she stares at the menu for a while, until she decides on getting a veggie burger.

As (y/n) gets her food, she decides to go to her and Spencer's favourite park. The idea of going there makes her feel closer to Spencer, and at the thought of that, she gives a small but warm smile. Heading to her usual spot and getting her veggie burger out of the In and Out labelled bag, she sinks her teeth into the food as she smiles with delight from the delicious flavours she's tasting. As she is finishing eating and is only slurping what's left of her lemonade, she stares over to the playground watching the kids laugh and play. Thinking to herself that one day she will be able to bring her kid to the park where she and Spencer spent many days and nights together, whether it was them walking along the lake or gazing at the stars on a clear night, where they made the best memories. Although she knows Spencer won't respond cause he is probably busy working up a profile, she decides to send him a message and a picture to tag along, saying, Wish you could be here with me right now !!! But I know that you're out doing what you love most !!! I'll probably stop by the office to check on Penelope and see how she is doing. Haha, I can’t help there to be another motive to see Garcia and that is to see what is taking you and the team so long? but I'll see you when you get back!!! I also have a big surprise to share with you when you get back, and I know you will be thrilled. Sending the text, (y/n) lays her phone next to her and watches the family of ducks walk through the park and into the lake, thinking how adorable they are. As the sun sets, and everyone is leaving (y/n) finally decides that it is time to go home as she stands up and brushes any remaining crumbs from her dinner while she’s cleaning herself up (y/n) phone rings. As she looks down to see who was calling, she smiles to see it's Garcia.

"Hello?!,"

Garcia says as soon as (y/n) swipes on her phone to accept her call. Weird, she didn't say anything else, no happy or cheerful or even a sweet comment, just a single word.

"Hi, Garcia! Are you doing okay? You umm sound a bit off,"

little did (y/n) know that Garcia was trying to hold back her tears and stay strong for her.

"Umm (y/n), I have some concerning new that I need to tell you,"

there was a long pause before Garcia took a deep breath and continued,

"The team got into a severe car accident, and many of them are injured and in the hospital but-"

Garcia pauses while there is a moment of quiet sorrowful silence. (Y/n) heart is beating fast, she's in absolute shock, not knowing what to say or do. She just stands there helplessly in silence, breathing loud enough so that Garcia knows she's still there. (Y/n) doesn't want to think that after all that horrific news there's still more Garcia hasn't said yet. She's so worried about the next sentence that she sits back down on the freshly cut grass where it was still warm and had a slight indent from her sitting there just moments ago, full of joy and hope.

"But (y/n) S-Spencer is,"

Garcia can't hide the sob that slipped between her brightly coloured lips that had a bright shade of pink lipstick; she applied earlier in the day to surprise Morgan when he got back from his case. Garcia continued through her crying

"(y/n), Spencers in a post-traumatic coma and I'm afraid that the Doctors don't know when he will wake up again....,"

Garcia forced the words out of her even though they felt like ice cutting into her heart. She had to force them out like that, or else she wouldn't be able to tell (y/n). There was yet another long pause between them, but this one was different. Both women couldn't speak out of the shock and fear that was flowing through their bodies. They sat there in that silence until Garcia dared to ask

"(Y/n) are you okay? Please talk to me, you haven't said a single word, I'm not even sure if you're the-,” Garcia was abruptly interrupted by a sobbing and angry (y/n), she started to yell, "No, I'm not okay Garcia, in fact, I am the very opposite of okay. The father-," she couldn't stop sobbing making it hard to speak, but she was so angry, so she kept going,

"The father of my child may not ever be able to wake up again, so forgive me for not saying a word," (Y/n) doesn't know why she does it, but she hangs up. After the very second she hangs up, she hugs her arms around her knees, feeling the cold grass get wet beneath her from the mildew that had slowly snuck up as the night went on. (Y/n) then just bursts into more inconsolable sobbing, she cries so hard that she feels dangerously light-headed. The next thing she knows, her eyes are barely lifting open, but for a split second, she has them open. (Y/n) looks down to see that she is in a hospital bed before passing out.

To be Continued….

#spencerreid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid story #spencer reid series #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds #mattewgraygubler #matthew gray gubler

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theharellan · 4 years ago

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101 DRAGON AGE QUESTIONS | not accepting

for the sake of reducing the number of ooc posts i’m answering these all in one and just @ing the people who asked the questions! thank you for them all!

if you sent me one of these btw and rbed this meme yourself and i didn’t send you something, please let me know! i want to send you things back and must have missed you reblogging the meme. this includes non-mutuals.

1. How did you get into Dragon Age? | asked by @kaaras-adaar & @dreamerlavellan

Sort of by accident, actually. It was the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in university (2011) and summertime is generally a time of inactivity and depression because I cannot tolerate the weather here. My dad happened to own Origins and I picked it up because??? Fantasy? RPG?

Starting the game I saw you could play as a dwarf, who have been my favourites in fantasy since a child as The Hobbit is among my favourite books. Then after that I fell in love with the worldbuilding for dwarves and Gorim, my first actual Dragon Age love. I was more or less hooked after that. DA was actually not my first Bioware game, I was obsessed with Jade Empire as a kid so like Origins appealed to me immediately despite being far less fun to play than literally any other Bioware game I’ve ever played. The characters and world more than made up for it.

I beat it relatively quickly and my dad bought Dragon Age II which had come out earlier that day, actually against my suggestion because I’d heard it wasn’t good. And in this instance my dad forgetting something I said turned out for the best because I ended up enjoying DAII more in some respects. While it took me a while to join the fandom as a content producer I was a consumer and certified DA trash from then on.

2. Have you finished all three games? | asked by @kaaras-adaar

Kskjdfs yes. I’ve beaten each at least 4 times, but probably more like 8. The only thing I haven’t played are some of the Origins DLC because as much as I enjoy my replays I am so ready to be out by the end of the game (and I have the worst luck with Awakening bugs) and I also don’t have Sebastians DLC b/c his never goes on sale individually and I refuse to spend more than like $4 on him.

3. How long did it take you to finish the series? | asked by @kaaras-adaar

I honestly don’t know. I think it took me like a week to beat Inquisition without 100%ing it, I’d say my first playthroughs all probably took about that long. I tend not to do everything in my first playthrough. Like shard collecting didn’t happen until round two, etc.

7. Favorite DA:O backstory? | asked by @dreamerlavellan & @fatefaulted

I’ve played through all of them and I enjoy them all except Cousland, but my favourite is Aeducan. I enjoy the politics, the culture, the aesthetic of Orzammar. I love Gorim Saelac and the surprising amount of depth to this character who is designed to be thrown away after the prologue. I love how it ties you to the Darkspawn threat in a bigger way than any of the origins accomplish. I love how it ties you to the Orzammar plot later in the game, and playing Aeducan first is probably one reason why I adore that branch of the game. It’s a good origin that establishes its world really well and has great characters to boot.

11. Share a pic of your favorite OC from any DA game. | asked by @dreamerlavellan

I just want to share pics of my girl and Solas’ future husband.

Ian Lavellan, non-Inquisitor written by @theshirallen

Thora Cadash, dwarven Inquisitor and default Inquisitor for this blog written by... me lmao.

22. Favorite DA2 party combo? | asked by @fatefaulted

My main Hawke is a mage Hawke, so this party is horrendously imbalanced, but: Varric, Merrill, Isabela. They all just like each other and I think that’s neat. Although in act one my favourite is probably Carver, Merrill, Isabela / Varric. Unfortunately the game doesn’t want me to have a warrior in my party.

24. Favorite main-story quest from DA:I? | asked by @kaaras-adaar

It’s hard to pick between In Hushed Whispers and In Your Heart Shall Burn. I love seeing the red lyrium’d companions and the dark future of Thedas, and speculating on what happened in the intervening year. I love reflecting on what it must do for the Inquisitor to see that and have it be undone. I think it sets up the rest of the game really well, and in ways Champions of the Just doesn’t do quite as well.

In Your Heart Shall burn is a simpler quest but I think the power and emotions in the quest are so raw. Playing this the first time was riveting and I was on the edge of my seat. The triumph of closing the Breach, the strangeness of your first encounter with Cole (whose appearance at the gates is another reason I prefer IHW tbh, I think it’s more tension building than Dorian’s), Corypheus, crawling through the snow. Capping it off with The Dawn Will Come and the journey to Skyhold idk, it’s just such an emotional high point in the series that every time I replay I get goosebumps.

25. Favorite DA:I place? | asked by @fatefaulted

It’s a tie between the Frostback Basin and the Emerald Graves. I love the lore in both, as elf trash I prefer the lore in the graves especially if I can include the Din’an Hanin into that category. But the Avvar lore and Ameridan is also Very Good, and while I adore the giant trees of the graves the Frostback Basin clearly was able to have more resources poured into its design, and as a result the different sections of the map have so much more character.

A close runner-up is the Hinterlands, as I think the quests there are fun and it feels like home. I enjoy returning to it. Which is good, b/c I’ve played through it... a lot... I think loving it might be a coping mechanism, but also I love the vibe of the early game that’s best captured in the Hinterlands.

32. Favorite DLC mission overall? | asked by @fatefaulted

Trespasser is up there with Shivering Isles as my favourite DLC ever produced. Its hits every emotional beat I think it needed to hit, set up the next game with greater detail and intrigue than the initial epilogue, and I’m honestly dying to get to replay it again on Thora despite what it does to my nerves. The first time I played it I could feel my heart beating faster like wtf me.

37. Blood magic: yes or no? | asked by @hopewrought

Would I use it myself? No. Morally I think it can be reprehensible but also neutral, much like any other magic in the game. In certain characters I think even if used for good it may encourage unhealthy habits, but I think it can be learned to be engaged with in better ways.

59. Who was written really poorly? | asked by @theshirallen you can’t hide behind anon I know it was you

Oghren fucking Kondrat. When I think about the reasons Origins is my least favourite game he is among them. With Oghren there was a really good chance to portray an alcoholic abuse victim, suffering from severe mental health issues, and still mourning his wife, with the respect it deserves. Instead he just... is a gross sexist dwarf and his alcoholism is mostly played for jokes. And then he comes back in Awakening and... continues to be a gross sexist dwarf whose alcoholism is mostly played for jokes.

There could have been some really interesting stuff with Oghren, the Warrior caste of dwarves I think would suffer from issues similar to qunari warriors, where when they can no longer fill the purpose society has dictated they must serve, what then? They can’t do anything but fight. There could be comradery with Sten, or perhaps Zevran or Alistair, or any of the companions who have had the path their lives took dictated to them by societal forces they had no say in (even if they are happy with that direction). There are snippets of good stuff in here, the line “let us show them our hearts, Warden, and then show them theirs” is one of the best of the good-byes the game offers us imo. It’s a shame about what came before.

Like there are other characters, such as Sera, who I think were done dirty by their writers, but Sera at least got some growth in the DLC and there were attempts to address criticism of her character. Oghren in Awakening was just kind of a take two of an already poorly-done arc.

60. Who do you wish had been given more story? | asked by @hopewrought

I wish Briala had more, like that she had some impact on the story in universes where Gaspard isn’t crowned with her as his puppetmaster. She and the elves reappears in that but not if you reunite her with Celene or exile her, and I think it would’ve been neat. I also wish she’d had a chance to interact with Solas in some small way given how many parallels were drawn by one of his own agents during Masked Empire.

I also wish we had more about dwarves in general in 2 and Inquisition. We get some great lore in Inquisition that was set up in 2, but with our only dwarf companion being Varric, who honestly has a relationship with his race that at times is comparable to Sera’s, it pulls a few of its punches. I really think they have dwarves set up to be important players in the next game, with their architecture featuring heavily in the dev diary, buuut no dwarves to be seen. So who knows. Just give me dwarves in the next game who aren’t Varric Bioware pls. Let me kiss one maybe.

61. Favorite NPC? | asked by @kaaras-adaar

I’m not going to count advisors even though they kinda are NPCs and I’m going to answer one for each game so uhh...

Origins - Anora

DA2 - Feynriel

DA:I - Krem

Bonus - Lord Woolsley, the only unproblematic DA character

63. Best story moment? | asked by @ghilannainguideme

It’s a tie between the journey to Skyhold and the talk with Solas at the end of Trespasser and the resulting disbanding of the Inquisition (if you so choose). I really can’t separate them because I think the reason Trespasser works so well is how it calls back to the very beginning of Inquisition and that moment with Solas in the snow. It’s triumphant and sad, something’s ending, the fellowship is breaking, but you know all of you will continue to work towards a better world apart.

In DA:O I think it’d be saying good-bye before the final battle and in DA2 I think the moment where you can tell the Arishok he was right to take in the elves who killed that guardmen is good. Probably one of the reasons why I think Hawke-Arishok work so well as a protagonist-antagonist combination.

81. Favorite fanfic? | asked by @ghilannainguideme

I don’t read a lot of fanfic, actually. Save what I read on here, which I do count, but idk if other people do.

My favourite writers to read are @theshirallen, obviously. Joly wants to tweakIan’s personal quest but I think the version they have written now is still very good and you can find it here. I love reading Peace’s stuff and find their smut especially spicy in the best possible way, you can find a Merrill/f!Mahariel piece here! Gaia doesn’t write on Tumblr much these days, but she wrote a wonderful Tug/Sketch (the companions from Leliana’s Song) that you can find here.

I follow so many talented writers and I can’t list them all but here are a few I can fire off real fast: @theshirallen / @ghilannainguideme / @seahaloed / @sabraelin / @valorcorrupt / @mercysought / @hopewrought / @ofrevas / @skyheld have all moved me with their words at some point, be it in fic or rp.

82. Favorite fanart/fanartist? | asked by @ghilannainguideme

Again I just can’t choose jsdfks.

The easiest way is to just link my Solas fanart tag. Obviously this favours Solas artists, however, so also here’s a link to thedaswlw where there’s a boatload of amazing fanart all of wlw.

Of people I’m mutuals with I know @abracafockyou, @kaaras-adaar, @dalathin (currently inactive but I gotta link them), and @syntharts are all very talented artists. I’m also a big fan of destinyapostacy, nipuni, elbenherzart, starscollected (on twitter), and many more.

97. What’s your favorite DA mod? | asked by @ghilannainguideme & @hopewrought

I’ll chose one as many as I want to apparently from each game again, b/c why not?

DA:O - I have to admit I find this game hard to mod because nothing can really salvage the gameplay or look of the game. I need Better Dwarf Model so I don’t have to look at the odd dwarf proportions in the game (the women have arms for days). Mostly I have armour mods. I like Grey Wardens of Ferelden so I can match Alistair in the final batte and have everyone in uniforms in Awakening. I do like Kirkwall Exports because I can put Zevran in the robes of the notorious pirate tho. I haven’t used this mod yet but I also love this mod I retweeted this morning.

DA2 - Again, I don’t mod 2 very much. You could probably make some kind of chart for correlating my enjoyment of a game versus my urge to mod it, with the more I love a game means I want to mod it more. With 2 I enjoy the combat and overall design of the characters more so I mostly use a couple of tweaks, my favourite is Ishs Scarf for Merrill which just adds a cute blue scarf to Merrill and hides the fact that elves in this game have weirdly long necks. Oh and a mod to fix the weird hand dirt.

DA:I - Equal Opportunity Solas mod, I bought the game again on PC just to use it. Being able to play Solas/Ian for screencaps was everything tbh. Other mods I enjoy are More Banter, which while I have better luck with banter it is nice to be able to count on it. I installed it this latest pt and I have heard location comments that have never triggered before. Black Hair for Everyone has changed my life because finally Thora doesn’t have grey hair. No Dirt Buildup is also amazing, as the dirt can cause some really weird blotting on PCs that’s especially noticeable on dark-skinned Inquisitors.

99. Where would you live (Ferelden, Orlais, Free Marches etc?) | asked by @heysales

Probably Ferelden. It is fantasy England and hey if I make it past Inquisition maybe nothing will ever happen there again. Somewhere in the Free Marches might also be chill. Not Kirkwall. Maybe Starkhaven? Honestly tho I just want to live in the Frostback Basin. Have a spirit friend. Shake hands with nugs.

101. If you could meet your Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor, what would you say? | asked by @dreamerlavellan

If I met Thora I’d tell her I’m proud of her. She’d be confused, but that’s ok.

#( munday meme )#( ooc )#( about me )#( asks )

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createdbybhaveshwithlove · 4 years ago

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How all my failure turned into major Success ?

This is a short story of my life covering a “ journey from age 18 to 19 ”

What happened in 2nd year of Diploma ?

Perceiving second year of college in Diploma. It was already ruined because at our time it was a huge rally going on and we were shutting down the college for several times. What resulted was a backlog for 3 semesters in Maths. When you are in first year of diploma, you get excited and you top the semester. All the same enthusiasm decreases when you are introduced to more complex subjects. Complex is not appropriate but you can call it as “theorein” meaning “ to look at ” same as deep theoretical subjects. And there is a sudden change in graph of your success. A major depression takes place over here and you suddenly feel it. Even harder it is when you have backlog and you start losing hope to study to pass the subject (specially maths). Once you start exposing yourself to history, you can get that what I am learning is the things which were invented in 90s. You start feeling this dilemma when you think - why I am spending time in this ? while I can learn Python and create some AI bots transforming HCI. Now what’s HCI ? It’s Human-Computer Interface. It’s pretty interesting when you learn something latest in market and pretty vintage when you learn from late 90s. Only difference is you get surprised by seeing all the old machines. You get stagnated seeing how big they were and how dumb it feels to punch holes in a punch card and rotate it million times. So spending time in riots, enjoying holidays every day, feeling college life. I thought of going for a course of iOS App Development. It was from April to July 2018. I remember working on those Windows computers which were installed with MacOS. I used to sit on the chair with a low-key attitude and waited 5 mins so that the computer can open XCode and start running. Worst thing of all I learned Objective-C which was mostly obsolete and the course was not complete. They charged ₹ 20K for the course teaching all basic things. I was feeling a total disgrace going for it and the end result is I am unable to make a payment option working on my app. Whom should I blame ? I moved on. I came to know, that all the things running with this “ private ” institutes if fake. Seeing a big banner of full placement is a trauma happening to me. Real time experience was that I was not even closer to becoming iOS App Developer. After that I came to know that if you don’t clear your backlogs then you will be YD. YD ? it’s Year Down and means you can’t attend next year until you complete the backlogs first. I worked hard and cleared my semester.

Habituated minds must be thinking that I have a year break ? no off course not. I attempted the subject and got 32 marks still in need 8. In MSBTE board we have a rule of condolence that “ you can pass if you are near to passing and you have only one subject to fail ”. So, failure was my friend as giving mathematics-3 for all 1 and half year. It was fun and a crying moment. I was a total failure till that. I got scammed once. I didn’t pass in maths. I was a shy person. I didn’t speak much. I was caring about what others think. Then I passed and got around 71 (I don’t remember but it was First Class) for clearing backlog. Wait… 71 % ? Yes, I was intelligent. I was interested in upgrading myself but kept downgrading myself. Then I travelled and saw different people in the world. One who were hard workers and one who were working mentally. What’s the difference ? Can you tell if that person can work like hell ? Can you determine his ability to do the hard work ? Then I came to Mumbai once and went to a EB-5 business counselling. EB-5 ? yeah, it’s like a green ticket for you to live in America. Just invest 5 Crores. I felt like why I am here ? I earn ₹ 0 and went to see 5 Crores investment deal. I felt bad and came out. Walking down the road I saw Ferrari Showroom. Got happy seeing it. Then walked around 20 Kms to local station. Took a train to Karjat. Then again a train to home. All my struggle felt like I am wasting my time in this all non-related things to my background.

Do you understand the flow of failures ? Did you understand how my failures lead me to more exposure to real life truths ? Now I am in my third year and doing well in it. I pass out with 73% overall aggregate. Still 2 marks remaining for First Class Distinction. Now, when I see my certificates, I literally have 3 certificates of 3rd semester. You can laugh no one will see. What life teaches is totally different than what schools/colleges teach. I realised that whatever I do, I need to put all of my efforts to succeed. Here we are at the 3rd quarter of 2019. I am planning to get admission in international college. I went on myself filled all forms and had to decide if can pay that much fees or not. Then I had discussion with my family. Finally I landed with a admission letter to my degree in CSE department. I got exposed to people and got to know much more things I didn’t thought in my whole life. It was fun and I participated for getting into semester exchange. Got selected for it, left it due to not having enough funds. Started realising that world is not what I see in my dreams or what I see in movies. I started growing myself. I expelled all my talent which was hidden. Enjoyed a little. But didn’t partied because I know rich people don’t spend there money in parties and motivated people don’t spend their time wasting in unwanted things.

So, I am having a PHD

PHD which represents the “ real life truths ”. Didn’t understand ? See above starts of the paragraphs. Building up a great foundation for my future steps. No matter what, Keep Moving. Keep Hustling. Keep Smiling!

“Value” is the little brother of “discipline”, so start valuing things and you will automatically achieve discipline — Bhavesh Patil

#short story #failure #success #original work #work hard

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quarterfromcanon · 5 years ago

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1-4. For the asks

Thank you so much for sending these! <3

Once I started to answer them, I realized there were comparatively few recent television shows appearing on the list. I seemed to keep gravitating toward older ones I remembered from years ago. I took a handful of days to mull it over in case I was forgetting something, but nothing else comes to mind. Maybe my ongoing list of Shows to Watch During Quarantine will turn up some fresh results but, for now, it looks like I’ll be taking a little trip down memory lane. :)

This turned out to be a pretty long and rambly post, so I’ll stow it under the cut!

Top 5 TV Shows

1. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - I can’t imagine this surprises anyone who has been following this blog for the past two years or so. It brought fellow fans into my life, got me back into writing fic, and prompted countless tags of meta. It’s the show my mind drifts to on a weekly basis (if not daily) even a full year after the finale. Just when it seemed I’d reached an age where that level of intense fandom involvement and character attachment might be fading, it proved that quite the opposite was true. I’m very thankful to the series for that, and for the people whose paths have crossed mine as a result.

2. Schitt’s Creek - This is my #1 Feel Good show and, though I’ve been dodging spoilers for the final season until it gets uploaded to Netflix, I get the impression that it will remain in that top spot. The world feels softer and more hopeful there. It’s healing for my soul. I’m going to have a dreadfully difficult time saying goodbye, but I’m glad there are six season to revisit whenever I want.

3. Stranger Things - The theme song alone sends such a rush of excitement through me. I love the aesthetic and the atmosphere. I sometimes have mixed feelings about the romances but the FRIENDSHIPS sure do have a direct line to my heartstrings. I think the way they’ve combined media influences into their own story is really neat. You get something that’s new and engaging, but you can also go back and enjoy the sources of inspiration with fresh appreciation.

4. Joan of Arcadia - I can’t help it. The snark, the jackets, the early 2000s songs, the performances -- the nostalgia for this show is so strong. It’s not without its problems, but it did have some really good things to offer as well. I remember an episode that was one of my earliest introductions to the concept of a trigger, and the effect it could have on a person if exposed to one of theirs. The series dealt a lot with grief and the many forms it can take (I STILL can’t hear Fiona Apple’s cover of “Across the Universe” without getting misty-eyed). I’m also surprised, looking back, at the somewhat positive way I recall them discussing homosexuality on the several occasions that it came up in the show. Not to give too much credit since I don’t think there were recurring canonically LGBTQIA+ characters but, for a kid who spent most days around closed-minded people of a certain religious leaning, it was meaningful along my individual journey. I’d like to provide the several examples that are most vivid in my memory:

A. A girl with short hair, short nails, little to no makeup, and a bulky leather jacket is generally assumed to be a lesbian by the bullies at school. The show directly confronts the fact that “gay” should not be used an insult, that identity should not be assumed without the person telling you so, AND makes sure that the character in question never pushes back by saying harmful things about lesbians despite not actually being one herself.

B. A boy who is questioning is able to confide in his big brother and have a fairly calm conversation about it; the awkwardness mostly comes from neither of them being accustomed to openly discussing emotions, not from the possibility of a negative response regarding the subject matter.

C. Another character is accidentally discovered to be gay (he only appears in the one episode, if my memory serves), and some of the leads have the opportunity to share that for personal gain. However, even though he is a popular jock who is a bit of a jerk in the hallways, the show makes it clear that the right choice is still to leave the telling of that information up to him and him alone.

Like I mentioned, it can’t be said that representation was in abundance here - for instance, I don’t believe anything other than straight or gay was presented as a possibility - but any accepting acknowledgement in a faith-centric series was something for me to hold on to in my still-deeply-closeted days. As a final Very Important personal side note, this show brought Judith Montgomery into my life (pictured below on the left), and that feels like it merits a shoutout for being what I consider a rather significant marker in my awakening.

THE OVERWHELMING CRUSH I HAD - and still have - is one for the books.

5. Pushing Daisies - This is another show with an aesthetic I adore. The series has such a fun, whimsical energy. The crime-solving! The clothes! The cast! There's a lot to love. It’s the kind of world I wish I could visit... well, minus the evidently rampant murder rate.

Top 5 Overrated TV Shows

1. Once Upon A Time - *deep sigh* I tried to stick with it for so long. I think I’ve seen five out of the seven seasons in their entirety. It just felt like everything got mired down by excessive (and increasingly convoluted) subplots, often for the purpose of tossing in as many fairytale and/or Disney characters as possible. Plus, quite honestly, there was too much emphasis on romantic love. For a show whose first season involved a curse being broken by [potential spoiler, I suppose] a mother kissing her son’s forehead, I ultimately found myself up to my ears in romantic ships. It reached such a stifling extent that, if you were not particularly attached to those pairings, there wasn’t a whole lot else to entice further viewing.

2. Under the Dome - I don’t know for certain what the general public opinion of this series was, but it felt like the commercials always featured alleged rave reviews, so I figured I could include it here. I was vaguely interested in Season 1, mainly as a fan of Rachelle Lefevre’s work. Season 2 pulled me in with the introduction of a new townsperson and I threw WAY too much of my heart into that attachment, which backfired when that character was killed. I made quite the spectacle of my heartbreak, so much so that my family doesn’t let me mention this show around them anymore. :P Season 3 was, to phrase it delicately, not a great time. The series did introduce me to a few new-to-me actors, though, so that was cool.

3. Bates Motel - Even the incentive of learning that the two characters I liked most share a lot of screen time later in the series hasn’t been enough to call me back to this one. I don’t know if it was the pacing that put me off or what, but the prospect of finishing the remaining seasons feels so daunting. There are evidently five seasons in total and I believe I’ve only seen two of them thus far. I will probably muddle through it someday just to see how it goes, but the fact that I am so disinclined to prioritize it made this feel like a fair addition to the list.

4. Lost - My interest in this series unfortunately waned right before fervent fandom spiked. I don’t have any specific complaints that come to mind about what I saw; I just sort of drifted and then stayed away. Teachers I liked and peers I spent time with were starting to latch on to the show and I couldn’t find even the slightest inclination to give it a second try. However, did I still dutifully read all the latest installments in my friend’s Sawyer Ford and Kate Austen fanfiction when she passed me handwritten copies at lunch? Sure. I was glad it made her happy, even if I was no longer a viewer.

5. Hemlock Grove - I say this as someone who still mourns the fates of some characters in this show, so I wouldn’t go so far as to claim that the series stopped being able to make me feel anything. I’m just of the opinion that, in some ways, it might’ve been better off stopping at one season. That’s where the book it was based on ends, and things just didn’t feel as cohesive after that. Season 3 especially was - borrowing from my above review of Under the Dome - not a great time. That being said, there are also certain elements from the book that I could’ve done without in the Season 1 adaptation but... well... here we are.

Top 5 Underrated TV Shows

1. Picnic at Hanging Rock - Another one that won’t surprise followers of this blog. I have rhapsodized about it quite frequently since I found it a little over a month ago. It’s a period piece mystery miniseries with LGBTQIA+ representation, gorgeous costumes, and Samara Weaving. This felt specifically designed to wedge its way into my heart, and I’m quite content with the space it now occupies.

2. Dark - I’m so intrigued by the overlapping timelines with all of the morally gray characters. It’s possible to like one of these people in the timeline where they’re young but dislike them as adults, or vice versa. It also makes me think of Rant by Chuck Palahniuk a little tiny bit with the idea that time travel, specifically tampering with your own timeline, might make you physically and behaviorally unrecognizable to yourself. And the SONG CHOICES! I have gotten some solid new music selections from this series.

3. Sense8 - I still need to watch the finale. I really do. But I knew it would make me sad so I’ve avoided it for... two years now? Pretty close, I think. The concept is fascinating and the cast is so strong. Plus the cinematography! They came up with some of the coolest ways to depict the link these characters share and what it’s like when they connect over distance. The planning and careful editing it all must’ve taken... I remain in awe.

4. Penny Dreadful - There were definitely some story/writing choices I didn’t particularly like along the way, but I did get engrossed in the creepy goodness and the performances -- Eva Green’s Vanessa Ives most of all. It left me wishing for more period piece “monster mash” stories, because having all those classic characters in one place was a blast. It also helped me understand why Helen McCrory was once slated to play Bellatrix Lestrange because she can be terrifying. Oh and Sarah Greene in her Wild West outfits? Perdita Weeks with short red hair in fencing garb, and later in all leather with boots and a long jacket? I WAS NOT PREPARED AND I HAVE STILL NOT RECOVERED. I NEVER WILL.

5. Wonderfalls - There’s some cringe-inducing handling of certain representation in the series, but I have such a weak spot for quippy outcasts who become reluctant chosen ones (Joan Girardi in Joan of Arcadia, Wynonna Earp, Jaye Tyler in this series, et cetera). I also really love the sibling dynamics here. They bicker, tease one another, help each other out of trouble, and have rare but genuine heart-to-hearts. Caroline, Lee, and Katie all did such a great job blending their characters’ adult personalities with certain childhood attributes that rise to the surface in the presence of family.

Top 5 Movies

1. Addams Family Values - I’ve rewatched this movie at least once annually since I found it in Media Play at age 13. Usually, I’ll play it around Halloween or, at the latest, Thanksgiving. It’s mouth-along-with-every-line level ingrained in my memory. I find myself leaning forward in my seat before favorite parts because I’m still that excited to relive them. Why this movie, and why this devotion to such a degree? It’s hard to explain, even to myself. I can tell you, however, that I hold up every other portrayal of the Addams characters to the versions found in this. Everybody in the cast just feels that perfect for their part.

2. Clue - I was already pretty fond of this movie to begin with, but then my sister got older and claimed it as a favorite of her own, so now she just supplies me with further excuses to watch it repeatedly. It’s also been a bonding piece of media with a couple of close friends and such through the years. It’s incredible to think not everyone in it was the first choice for their roles; what everybody brings to the table is so top-notch that I wouldn’t have it any other way. I also LOVE knowing that it originally went to theaters with different endings depending on which showing you attended. I gather people weren’t terribly thrilled with the stunt back then, but I kinda think some moviegoers would be into that approach these days? Then again, one hit that tried something different tends to start a fad, so maybe I’d end up regretting the suggestion after a while. :P

3. The Craft - This. Movie. Yes, Act III is a major bummer even though I know it’s coming, and I’ll always wish it ended differently. Even so. This. Movie. I tend to headcanon mostly for shows and sometimes books, but The Craft is a beloved exception. I love so much about it: the magic, the music, the clothes, the settings, the dynamics within the friend group, the performances. I had no idea when I first got the DVD at 17 that it would become such a part of my life, but I’m so glad it found its way to me.

4. Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion - The soundtrack is a glorious ’80s and ’90s treat for my ears. The colorful costumes are perfectly suited to the main characters’ version of the world. There are so many great lines and it feels like everyone is having a lot of fun in their roles. I LOVE HEATHER MOONEY SO MUCH. She’s my awful, scathingly sarcastic, little grungy grump and she fills my heart with joy.

5. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King - I was pretty sure at least one of the three had to appear on here. I think, if I were to tally them all up, The Return of the King features most of my favorite moments, so it wins the spot. “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!”, ‘Edge of Night,’ Éowyn in battle, The Army of the Dead, ‘Into the West’... I end up crying during the end credits every time. So, yeah, ultimately, I would choose the third part of the trilogy if I could only watch one.

Phew, that’s it! All the questions answered, all the shows and movies listed! Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read it all, and thanks again to @monaiargancoconutsoy for sending in the prompts! <3

#About Me #Answered Asks

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alternative-thinkers · 5 years ago

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Have you ever sat down and just wondered what the purpose to your life is, and why you were put on this earth?

Every now and then I would sit down and think to my self what was my purpose on this earth? What was the reason I have been made this was? Why do I think the way I think? Why is life always about making money, and trying to have things that are better than someone else?why thg do people just work there life away to just die and be full of regret and wonder what there life would of been like if they would of slowed down, and just tried to enjoy life more. And why do people always try to work and work and than retire and think there life would just be better when they retire some how?

These thoughts always pop into my head and I sit there and think about it to myself and when I do I get a little sad because there is so many great, talented, smart, creative, wonderful, and joyous souls out there just working there life away for a paycheck to just be able to GET BY and STRUGLE for another day hoping that things will somehow get better without putting any effort in it.

The sad thing about it is that we may never know why these people do these types of things. Do they do it because they want to impress somebody else, or they want other people to acknowledge them, and see how great they are? Or do they just feel like they must fit in and do what everybody else is doing, but just don't know it.

I have been like this for the last 22+ years of my life. I have always tried to get good grades in school to impress my parents, but no matter how hard I have tried it at times didn't seem like it was enough. I tried to do my homework every day but it was never something I wanted to do, I always tried to do extra credit things, but i was never enough. I was never a straight A student (not even close) I was more of your B's C's and D's student (except when it came to math becausei loved math). I was the one that you see that is in the back of the class room, the one that kind of gets nervous and anxiety around alot of people, and when told that I needed to get in front of the class. I always seemed to get overlooked and never really seen or called on much. I was a smart kid but not the best. I was kind but never really known. I was a little talkative, but only when you got to know me. I have been overlooked a lot in my life and made fun of a lot in my life, but I never let it push me into doing things that were reckless, and I never let it push me to do things that others were doing because it never really felt right for me.

When I was younger I had always wanted to work a job like an adult has. So when I was around 14 I decided to lie and say I was 16 so I can get a job at the local carnival, surprisingly enough they had fallen for it. So I got my first job at the ring toss game (you know the one where you toss a small plastic ring at a bunch of bottles in hope to get one to go around the neck of the bottle). I would work there for a few years until I was actually 16 years old, and I got caught up in some stuff that caused me to get kicked out of there the carnival as a worker. Well that is where my life journey as being an employee under someone else has started.

My second job was when I was 18 years old, when I had gotten blessed with a job at a hot dog cart concession company In Miami, Florida. I worked there for about 7 to 8 months until me and my family decided to move to Houston Texas, but as faith had it we ended up moving to North Carolina where I say now. At the hot dog cart concession company I worked there for 7 to 8 months straight as i said before but it was 7 days a week, about 18 hours more or less a day. Luckily i had the endurance for it. I made really good money there and the boss/owner was a great and awesome man, who really cared for and acknowledged is workers and there capabilities. He was in a way my best friend and also my boss which is kind of a great combo at times. But I did work my self ragged up until the point to where we ended up moving to north Carolina.

When we move here I ended up luckily finding a good job with a local retail giant that had been opening a new store a few towns away. I ended up helping finish putting the shelves in the store and fully stocking it. I stayed at that store for about 4 years straight. Up until I got a promotion to department manager in a bigger store (that the same company owns) a few towns away.

Mean while, while I was working at the store I had help build I ended up wanting some extra money so I got a second job at a local home improvement retail giant that is here in the U.S. I had worked at that company for a few months because it was just a seasonal position for the summer. While working there I had worked my self ragged once again because I had fallen into the same trap I had fallen into before. So after the season was over I was let go of and I got to relax for a little while more, with a little more money in my pocket until I got the urge to go and get a second job once again.

The next job I had was the current one I am working at right now and that I have been working at for the last 2 years, but with a little twist. It was at a local pizzeria company that did buffets, catering, dine in, and carry outs. It was fun working there at first, but eventually the fun had faded away, and I feel into the same trap that I had fallen into before. It resulted in me working my self ragged, and not going anywhere in life, except a one way ticket to burnout town (also known as being burnt out).

Around this time I was really depressed, sad, anxious, unhappy, and very suicidal. I had thought about hanging my self in my bathroom, but luckly something or someone had saved me from doing that. I think that was GOD who had sent one of his Angel's down from heaven to help wake me up from this cold, and messed up dream I had put my self in to ever since I was a kid. I had always thought that the purpose to life was to go to school, get a job, and work and make money and hopefully I would be happy, and successful. But I was wrong. All it had done was make me work hard (too hard) and all that lead me to was depression, anxiety, sadness, loneliness, hopelessness, and to have suicidal thoughts. But lucky that was the end of it because GOD had given me the strength to pull out of my old ways and to be able to reflect back on and see why I had gone through those things.

I had gone through those things so I can become a stronger, empathic, kind, beautiful, wonderful, exciting, and loving person who is a survivor. I had gone through those things to make me who I am today, and to help learn why people do those types of things, and to help others to not fall into those same types of traps. I had also gone through those things to be able to become stronger and more intelligent so I can be able to make a good impact on this planet that we call earth, which is our home even though some of us (like me) feel like aliens on this planet.

One of the best things that had helped me learn about my purpose on this planet, and learn about my self was meditation and getting closer to GOD spiritually. I had also done some research that had helped me, and being guided throughout my life eventhough I didn't even know it.

I also learned that life is too short to just sit around and worry about money and materialistic things, and to just work your life away and not enjoy it while you have it because one day you won't have it. So get out there and just live your life to its very best every day that you are living, and just stop worrying (at least as much as possible at the moment).

This is part of my life story but it is not the end of it, because I have a lot more to live and share with the world. My name is Marc Alt and this is a journey into my mind, and into my life and I hope it has helped open your eyes like it had done to me when I had realized it. I am an awakened INFJ (but still awakening everyday) and a Christian that is also spiritual and is willing to help you through your journey in life by telling you more about my lifes journey, and answering your questions.

Feel free to like, comment, follow, and share this blog post and many more that are soon to come with your friends, family, or just someone in need of some help. And feel free to ask questions if you want to. Thank you very much.

~Marc Alt 3/10/2020

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itsravina-blog · 6 years ago

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pontmercyingtil · 6 years ago

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Beds, Grief, and Carriage Rides (Queen’s Thief Fic)

In the past few months, the room where the Attolian royals eat their breakfast has heard a great deal of disagreements. Not the sort one might expect from royalty; shouting about power and wealth and privilege. Rather, these arguments, to an outsider, would seem both petty and ridiculous.

Which was exactly how at least half of the arguing couple wanted them to appear.

“Carriage.” The boy-king says, flipping a coin from hand to hand. He was draped over his chair, sideways, and offered his wife a lazy smile.

“No.” his queen replies. As always, her posture was perfect, and her expression was… the opposite of lazy. Her makeup had been applied with a painter’s precise hand, her expression, of unsmiling lips and narrowed eyes, only amplified the result.

“Two carriages.”

She shakes her head, glittering earrings bouncing slightly with the movement. Not rubies. Not today.

“Three!”

Her hand goes to her face, delicately pinching the bridge of her nose. She’d prefer to rub her eyes, but that would smudge the kohl and set her back a good number of hours.

“You’re injured,” he starts.

It is the exact wrong thing to say. “I’m fine.” The words comes out like a sword sliding from a scabbard.

The king’s eyes grow very wide, and his face turns young. Not too young to have a wife, but perhaps too young to have one who is so old. She knows she’s too old, too bitter, too much a harpy for him. It’s her fault. Her age and her coldness. That’s what’s to blame, for her tears last night and the night before, she reminds herself. Not his fault. But the words have already been said, and the pain already set into this expression.

“No, no. I mean. Ire-” he stops himself, just in time from using her name. “I meant, it was, a…”

“A mistake? An accident? Yes, I’ve heard both from the doctors.” She wishes it could be blamed on a doctor, on medicine, on anything except for the cruel capricious nature of life and death.

Now it is the king’s turn to close his eyes, and he, having none of the concerns she did for his appearance, rubs his face. She looks away, too afraid to see if there would be tears.

“I wasn’t referring to that. I was just joking. Remember? You stubbed your toe, yesterday, and I…”

She leans in, to whisper for his ears alone.“Some jokes land like shots fired, Eugenides. You of all people should know that.”

If it was possible for him to slump even lower in his chair, he does so.

The queen returns to her breakfast. The experts thought perhaps she needed to eat more fruits, to make the fruits of her womb blossom. She’d pointed out the goal was not for her to give birth to a garden, but today, she eats her bowl of fruit anyway. Dutifully, like she’s tried every other suggestion they’ve made.

The only part of this whole process she’s enjoyed has been the part she shares with her husband, an area that she certainly will not be inviting the expert to study. Her nights are hers and his alone. Even if that which they do at night is as important to the future of their kingdom as it is for the future of their own happiness.

Attolia needs an heir. In fact, Attolia the nation needs an heir more than Attolia herself needs to be happy. That’s what she tells herself, when the tears threaten, as she eats her fruit like a good patient.

Twice now, it had happened. The second, only two days ago, and the pain is still so raw. Had her husband truly forgotten with that slip of the tongue? Was the carriage really an offer of pity from him, rather than some silly topic to argue over, like the color of his robes?

Perhaps it was because he was a man. He didn’t know what it felt like to carry, and then to lose.

But she stopped that line of thinking with a single glance at his right arm. No. Her king knew a great deal about loss.

It was, she decided, that he was an optimist, and used to figuring out a way to win, no matter what. But there were somethings, like time that has passed and starlight and the growth of new life, that even the Thief could not steal for her. She speaks softly, “we will ride.”

He set his expression. “In a carriage.” His eyes flicked toward her, offering so many things, apologies and tenderness and yes, stubbornness, because he had, for whatever reason, decided they needed to take a damn carriage on this trip to a far-off lord’s estate.

“You have recently stubbed your toe, my queen, leaving you injured.”

What he was really saying flutters beneath his words, like a tune played counterpoint. This is the joke I wanted to tell you. And, to prove his sincerity, to show he too suffered, he raised his right arm, and lay the hook on her thigh for a moment. “As am I.”

She ran one delicate finger over the metal curve, avoiding the honed side. “As are we,” she breathed out, “both.” It was his loss too, what had happened two days ago. She must force herself to remember that. But she’s suffered for so long alone, that it is a hard skill to learn, this sharing of pain.

So, she says, flippantly, “Shockingly enough, one does not need both hands to ride a horse.”

“Oh really?”

And the queen, with that feeling that had become familarsince the moment she’d put those ruby earrings the first time, cursed whatever had possessed her to give him an idea.

The next day, the Annux got his carriage as well as a very cross queen. From the other side of the closed carriage, she folds her arms and says “Telus informed me that you had quite the odd way of attempting to climb into the saddle this morning.” “Yes, you see, my queen tells me that I need no hands to ride, so I simply hopped from the mounting block. Oddly enough, without a hand to grasp the saddle, I fell.”

“Into the mud.”

“Quite.”

“Ruining the perfectly good outfit your attendants had made ready.”

“The grey outfit, my queen.”

“Silver.”

“More of a pewter, really, but the sort of color of that metal that one might find in a bedpan;”

She closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of her husband, dressed in shades that any songbird might envy, across from her. How strange it is to both miss him and wish to be away from him, all while he sits across from her.

An hour later, or perhaps an eternity, she speaks.“I enjoy riding.”

“Oh, I know you do.” he replies, and there was enough lavishness in his voice for her to blush, as red as her earrings.

She’s put the rubies in today. Little good they do her mood now.

Anything she said, any light swat she might have given him, no matter how deserving, would only encourage him on that topic. In fact, just her blush is enough for him to add, “I find that my queen looks most beautiful when she is astride a truly handsome mount.”

Her cheeks burn darker than a ruby now, and she wonders if there have ever been carriage seats that might swallow one whole. If so, she deeply hopes these ones will do so, and soon. It's not the content of the joke, though she's glad no one else is there to hear it, but more... the matter at hand.

She's not sure she wants to try again. But she has to. They have to. They must keep trying, and trying, and perhaps someday... Someday. It is a far-off word, for a future that had seemed so close at hand only a week ago.

There is knitting to be done in the basket a well-meaning attendant has left at her feet. But there's no point in crafting a little blanket, when there is no one for it to keep warm.

A long silence, of only the lack of words, not the lack of sounds, passes. Wheels creek, straining as the great draft horses surge forward. Around them, the carriage walls shake and jostle with each bump in the road.

There are a lot of bumps.

“Were you really looking forward to the ride?” he asks, as if considering it for the very first time.

Her gaze is not on him, nor straight ahead. No, for once, it is out the narrow window of the carriage, watching the riders around them, each comfortably seated, reins in hand, in control of their own journey.

She sits, and she stares out the window, half thinking of freedom, and half of spilled perfume.

“Yes,” she says softly.

Their midpoint stop is a lord’s home. The lord is both old and heirless, which means his land will be swallowed up when he passes. It also means that her choice to rest there cannot be seen as a threat or a favor, as he has little but hospitality to offer his queen.

It was an easy choice to select him, but it is all too uncomfortable a reminder of how important heirs are. And how rare.

At dinner, Eugenides tries very hard to be charming, which only results in her face tightening, as if the meal is only made of lemons and the wine, vinegar. Because she doesn’t need charm.

She needs a king.

But that is not an argument to be had in front of others, though the tension between them over the matter lingers. It is there in all the pauses where she would usually smile at his jokes, in all her silence as the dinner progresses.

It is there too, when the music starts, and he does not ask her to dance. She doesn’t look at him then, because she might break. They'd danced together so often, up until two days ago, in the privacy of her rooms, and in her bed. Learned all sorts of twists and turns to make with limbs and lips. They had been so in harmony, so happy, while the music had been sweet.

The carriage ride gave her too much time to think, and, more over, time to mourn a life that she had only begun to imagine.

The queen is both tired of mourning, and quite new to it.

Dinner ends, and so does the night.

“Your majesty, if you will follow me,” the lord’s head servant leads her, and Eugenides, and their guard, down a long hallway. “My lord has offered his own room.”

“I hope he washed the sheets first,” Eugenides mutters, just low enough only his queen hears.

The servant pushes open the door. It is a well appointed room, with only three high windows, and finely carved furniture. Her careful eyes see no threats, no assassin lurking in the shadows. Instead, they land on something more terrifying.

“Is there a second room, attached to this one?” she asks, trying hard to sound conversational.

“Ah, no, your majesty.” The servant bows his head. “But if you wish for your retaining staff to be nearby by, we can move them from the servant’s wing.”

Next to her, Eugenides shifts his posture like a cat, gone from lazing at an window to spying a particularly fat robin, just out of reach.

It is not a good sign. Few, however, watch him closely enough to see the way opportunity makes his eyes dance with fire.

The one attendant she has brought coughs. “Their majesties do, uh, prefer, the older Attolian tradition.”

But this servant is young, and does not understand. “Is there something the matter with the room?”

Oh, damn it all. Now to refuse will be to make this a diplomatic offense.

Delicately, she speaks. “I do not wish to sleep in the same room as my king. His mind is troubled with matters of state.”

No. Just filled with nightmares of her.

“Ah. I… see.”

“It is better for us both to be alone. In our own beds.”

Because this room has only one bed. It looms in front of her, offering both comfort and fear. The fear of this careful rude they have sliding away. The fear of showing just how much she needs her husband.

No one says anything. Suddenly, the silence, which has been her only comfort all day, is too much. “Do I make myself clear?” she speaks, now, like the queen who ordered death. Not the almost-mother who had to hold death in her hands. “I do NOT wish to sleep with my husband.”

Everyone backs up.

Even him. Shifting from stalking cat to kicked puppy, all too easily.

She strides forward, and shuts the door. Latches it tightly.

WIthout any attendant, she simply flings the pins out of her hair, not caring where they land, not caring even when the crown falls, and throws herself onto the bed.

It is plush and soft, and far too big for one lonely person.

Her sobs are as silent as the day has been.

The moonlight, streaming from the high windows, wakes her. She lifts her head to look. The moon, inconstant, changing, yes, but always there. Perhaps she should see if there is an old goddess of the moon. Someone who would understand how one can wax and wane, all in such a short time.

Does the moon miss its fullness, when it is a crescent? Or does it trust the time will come once more.

While she stares at the moon, he drops down, from a high corner of the ceiling. So soft that anyone but her would not have heard it. “You,” she says softly.

“Me,” he agrees, but he does not come to bed. He stands there, and he hides his hook behind his back, the way he has not done in months. And when she reaches out, he trembles.

But he does not pull back, and she strokes his cheek, the one scar she feels she did not give him, of all of those on his body. She’s told him that before, and he’s cheerfully explained that the shackle marks weren’t from her, nor were a multitude of other small nicks and scrapes, but that does nothing to take the feeling from her.

All he does is make her feel, which, in many ways ways, is more than anything else in the world.

“I thought you might have meant it this time.” He whispers.

For a moment, he’s a boy and she is so, so aware of it. Of the youth he should have had to spend elsewhere, of the kisses from gentler people that he deserved, of the warmth and love and affection he’s been denied, all by her and her choices.

He makes her feel, and so, she makes him suffer.

Waiting there, waiting for his wife to invite him to bed. Suffering. He stands there, shifting his weight from soft-soled shoe to soft-soled shoe. It’s no surprise he’s brought what she considers his Thief gear, no surprise he found a way to her. And it’s not even a surprise that he doubted her love.

She could scold him. She could point out how the earrings still glittered in her ears while she sent him away. She could tease him, call him boy until he blushes.

But this time, she doesn’t. Her hand pulling him a little closer to her. They haven’t kissed for two nights. She’d been so angry, not at him, but at herself, at the stars in the sky. And, if she admits it, a little mad at him too, because she had not seen, before, that he grieved too. But his grief he hides with jokes and smiles, because he refuses to give her any indication he’s in pain. Refuses to burden her with any more than the heavy load she carries.

“I’d understand, if you did mean it,” he mumbles. “We don’t have to… you know. I could just… I could hold--” his voice breaks, and all that pain she’d thought he hadn’t been there erupts. Cuts across his face and into his words. “Hold you.”

Because the word hold brings up the memory of what happened the day before the loss. She’d walked in on him practicing cradling pillows laden with fruit, figuring out how to hold the most precious thing in the world with a weapon for his right hand.

“I want to keep her safe,” he’d whispered when he noticed her watching, her hand to her belly.

But in the end, neither of them could do anything at all to ensure safety for the one they waited for. Easier to plan against assassins, than simple facts of life and death.

Now, kneeling in that bed, too big for just her, she kisses him, soft, gentle, and so full of tenderness her own heart aches. The heart he’d had to steal to remind her she had.

It takes him a moment to kiss back, but when he does, there is none of the boy in him. Just her husband, her king. Hers.

“You shouldn't be alone,” he whispered. “Not tonight.”

“I'm good at being alone,” she replies.

“Just because you're good at it, doesn't mean you should be.” His thumb brushes over the earring, and travels down her neck. Then, re-finding all his confidence, he kisses her like a drowning man fights to reach shore.

They fall backwards onto the bed, him always a little more careful than any other lover might be, with that bladed hook. Sometimes he doesn’t take it off, and she can see her reflection in the gleam of the metal, her eyes gone wide with passion, cheeks flushed with passion, mirrored by the object that came from her coldest moment.

Other times, she is the one to remove it, and kiss the skin beneath.

Tonight, the hook cuts through her gown, and it is he who kisses skin hidden, underneath all her layers of silken armor. Only his kisses can cut through the mental armor too, finding all that is tender underneath.

Her breathing melts into soft moans, little whispered prayers to gods that honestly are probably quite enjoying this spectacle, given how much work they put into making it.

She’s naked now, beneath him, spread out on the bed that’s meant for two. “Eugenides,” she whispers, both a prayer and his name, her fingers in his soft hair, tugging him up so she can kiss his lying lips.

“This is a much nicer bed than they gave me,” he muses, rolling over after the kiss, flopping back onto the mattress. “It feels… why it’s full of feathers! Mine is straw.”

“Fitting, for one as goat-like as you.”

He glares at her.

She raises an eyebrow.

“Well, feathers are suited for a harpy like yourself.” he says, putting one hand behind his head, looking up at the ceiling he’d dropped from. There’s a small crack between that wall and the next. They’d both seen it, when the servant had brought them to the room. “We ought to get you a nest. You could curl up and…”

“Hatch my young?” she asks. It’s a tone that her advisors, and Gen, only know. Bitter. Not at the world, but herself.

“Irene. I…” He curses, pushing himself back up. The pain exists between them, though now, she realizes, she has carried all of it. Cradled it the way he sometimes cradles his right arm. Cradled, the way she still dreams of…

Like he dreams of opening and closing the hand she took from him. Is this the goddess’s doing then? To punish her, for taking so much?

But she’d taken what she’d found. It was the gods who led her to him, who… Her hand goes to her temple, because her thoughts have circled back around, swirling like poisoned wine down a drain.

His voice cuts through the twisting thoughts around her, as only his can. “Why do you keep me around, if I’m so good at breaking things?”

“You are not the only one who has broken things,” she reminds him. “Inkpot.”

His eyes flash in the darkness. “Goblet.”

“Dented.”

“Irreparably so.”

“Still useable.” In fact, she was rather fond of the dent, since the reason he'd flung it had been so adorable. He’d not know a woman’s mouth could do more than kiss his lips, the fool.

He replies, “mirror”

“Wait.” She paused. “I broke that.”

“Yes, we’re switching to things the other has broken.” He replies. Typical him. To change the battlefield to one better suited to his maneuvers.

“Fine then.” She waits a moment and then says, accentuating every syllable. “Glass. Windows.”

“My heart.”

“Oh come now, that's not even tangible!”

“Mm…” he nips her shoulder. “Come now? Is that an invitation?”

Her fingers twist in his hair and tug. “You broke my favorite chair.”

“You sit too much already. I did you a favor.” He nuzzles her neck. “What about that book of mine you spilled wine on?”

“You read too much. I did your eyes a favor. You, however, tore just tore a dress I quite liked.”

“Fine. What about the ceramic statue of my cousin’s great uncle? Hmm?”

“Oh? And My own great aunt’s pearl necklace?”

“It was glass! A fake. How was I to know?”

“Isn’t that your occupation? To be aware of the quality of the things you steal?”

But they’re both smiling now, and his fingers brush down her neck, her shoulder, slide lower. Searching, so skillfully, for all that will give her pleasure. Then, they press, in that little dance he’s perfected, each fingertip like lightening to her skin. “Oh I am … very, very aware of such things’ quality.” “Mm. Perhaps you should inspect such things more closely.”

He smiles, and shifts his body down, kissing her hips, her navel, and then lower, until her fists are clenched in the pillows. Yes, he is impulsive and stubborn and so good at breaking things… but he is even better at putting them back to right. She gazes down at him, resting one hand in the tangle of his dark hair, and for the first time in two days, smiles.

He lifts his head to smile back at her. They don’t need to speak. Not now. He’ll steal this pain from her heart, replace it with all the pleasures he can give, and in the morning, they will both be better. They will be together.

Together, as they had been in the carriage. Only now does she see what he did. Beyond his equestrian dislike, of course, there was a second reason. With him, there is always a second reason, if not also a third, fourth, fifth, and so on.

Tonight, as with most nights, he counts her pleasure the same way. Not once, not twice, but more than she truly deserves, until he rests, his head on her thigh, his hand moving to relieve himself of the burden he earns from such generosity. He doesn’t ask for her assistance, and he’s done before she even can think to move. While he pulls himself back from his blissful half-nap enough to undo his hook, she reconsiders what the carriage ride might have been.

How he could have held her and whispered to her, and kissed away each tear. Undone the knitting together, rewound the yarn and tucked away safe, for another time, another try.

Because he had been right that morning. She was injured. Not fragile in body, as she’d thought he meant, but fragile in spirit. The sort of wound only he, and not the doctors, knew how to heal for her.

She turns then, and pulls him to her, as soon as he sets down the hook. Kisses him deeply. The sort of kiss that tells him exactly what she’d like from him.

“So soon?” he whispers.

“If you can,” she teases, and her voice is light for the first time in days. “I believe it is certainly possible though.” Her hand snakes between them, touching him lightly, coaxing him. “The benefits of a younger husband.”

“Not that young,” he mutters. The tips of his ears are red.

No. Not that young at all. Old enough to be a father, to a child that still may yet be.

Only after, when they’re tangled in the silk sheets, both skin and hearts bared once more, does he whisper. “Perfume amphora.”

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me, Gen.”

#queen's thief fanfic #attolia/eugenides #eugenides fanfic #attolia #megan whalen turner #my fic

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timeoutotour · 6 years ago

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Broken Clouds, 23°C

16 D15, 84220 Gordes, France

Sunday 14th October 2018

This morning was to be the day of the great Menerbes attic sale. As expected, our overnighter car park was busier than yesterday morning , due to the two main car parks in Menerbes being closed to host the attic sale. Before getting on to the events of the day, I must mention the uncomfortable night I had , itching insect bites. I suppose it is Yin and Yang that if you have great weather , great locations, great company and a great time in general then there must be a downside to balance things out. So it is with insect bites. It was so bad that today I am , for the first time since leaving home, wearing long jeans . I've had enough of the little pests. I had a quick walk with Annie early doors and secured our daily bread whilst Rhian was getting ready and we set off for the village centre quite early with a plan that Rhian would do the attic sale and I would take Annie for a walk. Menerbes although very pretty was not a great dog walking location and I ended up walking along the roads , which were quiet but still not the same as walking off road. It was quite warm and there was a distinct lack of water available for Annie. On a couple of occasions whilst walking past vineyards I saw water taps , but found them to be dry and probably in need of pumps being activated in order to use them. I made my way slowly back into Menerbes via the back roads and stumbled across the local cemetery. Now as every wild camper knows , cemeteries are almost always a source of a free fresh water supply. How else does one water the flowers? So Annie was treated to a bucket of fresh clean water that had been slowly dripping from the tap, probably over several hours , if not days and was very much refreshed and rejuvenated as a result. Round about this time , Rhian telephoned to say that her attic sale browsing was over and that we should meet somewhere in the village. We met up shortly after, at about 1100 and decided we should move on before having lunch. I had identified an aire outside a town called Cavaillion which I thought might suit us well i.e. electric hook up water and waste disposal etc all for about 9 euros per night. It was only about 30 minutes drive but we stopped enroute at a small supermarket and Rhian bought some essential supplies . We arrived at the aire about 1230 after driving through the centre of Cavaillion . It's fair to say that I was not impressed by the town, it looked to me how I would imagine a suburb of Beirut may look. Pavement cafes were full of young males who I imagined were probably illegal migrants and it was not somewhere I would feel happy to visit and certainly would not want to spend the night. We pressed on to the aire , to find it a very good facility but for almost 10 euros per night , in a very poor location. Fortunately the services were outside the pay to enter area , so we managed to empty all our waste and fill up with water for free before deciding to move on to the beaux village of Gordes. Our first sight of the village was one of those WOW moments. An amazing looking hilltop village seen in the Provencal sun and I immediately thought, the best yet. The geography of hilltop villages generally means nowhere to park for motorhomes but here there was an option. A large car park behind the Gendarmerie where for 8 euros per night we could stay for 24 hours until .............1332 hours, the next day (according to the ticket) 1332 was my Police collar number prior to retirement ! After a quick snack we decided to venture into Gordes and found it to be very pretty but also quite underwhelming. It was definitely a place that was more impressive to look at from afar , than be in, up close and personal. We likened the main square to Caernarfon, although it must be said that their chateaux was much less impressive than our castle ! After a couple of hours we retired to our van and enjoyed our evening meal in the (by now) almost empty car park. Almost forgot to mention that today I lost my sunglasses. Would be a disaster in normal circumstances but for the fact that Rhian found them in the grass on a previous French holiday in about 2015 so I guess it is Yin and Yang all over again. I hope the finder enjoys their new acquisition as much as I did back then. Good night

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mehtranslations · 7 years ago

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The Favoured Genius 105

Translator: Foreverhungry

Editor: Ome

Proofreader: librismuse

Alright *pulls back sleeves* prepare yourselves for an extra long note today. I have a few things to mention, and bless our site manager for keeping me so organized.

1) Results of the vote! WP : tumblr is 10 : 5 sobs so we’ll be moving to wordpress sometime in the near future, we’re still kinda setting up (be prepared for shitty systems tho bc free wp is shitty wp)

2) @our supporters (mainly kirindas and hoyaoppa since I see you guys a lot >.> I swear I see you everywhere kirindas) Thank you so much for supporting us up till now and I hope that you guys would continue the journey with us in the future too! Everyone appreciates your thanks, but we have nothing we can give you in return so I guess you’ll just have to stick to reading future chapters;;; @some people (be ready for the preach) Life is full of things that you want and need, sometimes you'll get it, sometimes you won't. We've already made an announcement on our management on the things you want but we are not obliged to give you. This is our form of thanks for the support, but if it still doesn't satisfy your want? Honestly, I don't really care. I'm not obliged to you, we are not like some websites where we give chapters according to how much you pay. We are a fan translation site. You have the rights to make your wants to be known, but we also have the rights as to our speed of fulfillment, or even whether we want to fulfill that want. Please don't be arrogant assholes. Thank you. Yours Sincerely : ) What brought this on? People asking ‘when can I read 1-100′ when I’ve already made an announcement about it. 3) So um. This is. Kinda not related to the post. But I still wanna get it out so you guys know we actually read your asks. We got a request to translate ‘God of Thunder’. Thank you for having so much confidence in my abilities;;; But I’m afraid I’ll have to let you down. Reasons why I’m not going to translate said novel: - No time - I have other projects that are going snail-paced - My procrastination powers are stronk - Frankly the novel isn’t my type, soz :( I hope there won’t be any bad feelings @anonrequester?

4) Updates on the first hundred chapters Things are going along, we’re taking the chance checking for any spelling or grammatical errors before we post things up so it’ll be sliiiiiiiiightly different but it won’t change anyone’s background/past knowledge of the novel. Re-uploading date: First 10 chapters still tentatively early April First five chapters are up on WP, and we’re still working on the rest of the chapters

And that’s the end of it! @thosewhoreadeverything I'm sorry for the long note, please enjoy the next chapter now!

Space and Rebirth: The Favored Genius Doctor and Businesswoman - Chapter 105 - Carrying the Blame (背黑锅)

Jing Yunzhao squinted her eyes, not the least surprised by Qiao Hongye’s response.

Qiao Hongye may still be young and less experienced, but she had been bright ever since she was little. In addition to Qiao Weimin and Ye Qin serving as her role models, she became even sneakier.

If Qiao Hongye had admitted her faults just now, Jing Yunzhao would actually feel that there was something wrong with her.

However, after Qiao Hongye had finished speaking, Cao Xing’s eyes looked as if it wanted to spit fire, “Don’t listen to her nonsense! She was supposed to be my lookout! She had even paid me to help her bring down this Jing Yunzhao before!”

Qiao Hongye’s tears seized the opportunity to fall,” You… How could you say that? I obviously only saw you once before this. Also, it wasn’t I who called the police! You cannot wrongly accuse me... Mr. Policeman, you must investigate clearly. Jing Yunzhao is my older sister, and these two are also my schoolmates. Why would I go against them?”

Su Chu’s cheeks bulged out to their limits. She was so angry that she was literally jumping on the spot in anger, her face stifled red.

A few police officers who saw Qiao Hongye crying so miserably felt that not only was she dainty and delicate, but also pitiful and obedient. How would they think of the possibility that she could be lying?

They became even more displeased by Cao Xing this hooligan. He really likes holding onto a grudge too much. This little girl was just coincidentally mixed into this when she came, but he had to insist on having her become his lookout. This was practically destroying the country’s flower buds! [1]

“Little girl, you can relax. We would definitely not wrong anyone. Next time, however, you need to be careful. When you meet these kind of bad people, it’s still better to first call the police. This way, you can also avoid being misunderstood.” Once the officer had finished speaking, he forced Cao Xing into the police cruiser.

Cao Xing’s heart was filled to the brim with resentment. For those in this **** business, there were only a handful who never entered the ‘palace’, but right now he was walking right into it. How shameful!

Qiao Hongye this slut actually dared to deceive him. To save time, he had first confirmed the location of Jing Yunzhao’s room. During these few minutes, he had overturned everything in Jing Yunzhao’s room, but he didn’t even see a speck of the so-called Ginseng. He didn’t even see a single cent; she must be a penniless ghost!

This woman (QHY) purposely used the ginseng to manipulate and swindle him!

The moment Cao Xing was taken away, Qiao Hongye relaxed. Seeing her like this, Jing Yunzhao suddenly found the situation funny.

She thought that everything would be fine as long as she made Cao Xing bear the blame alone? She may be smart, but she’s just indulging in her own fantasy!

When she had stayed in prison for a few years in her past life, she had actually learned some common knowledge about the law. Cao Xing had attempted an unsuccessful robbery and did not cause any major loss at all. In addition, there was no one in the house, and he did not threaten someone’s life. Under such conditions, it would be impossible for him to be sentenced.

At most, he would be detained for a period of time. Even with the previous case of intercepting and blocking her… It was still totally impossible.

Previously, she did not understand why Cao Xing had to hide away. Because, if the other hooligans dared to sell out Cao Xing’s location, they wouldn’t wait until now.

As long as Cao Xing denied everything persistently and the other people related to the case or witnesses did not identify him, there would not have been any evidence against him, thus her statement would have no conclusive effect. In other words, at most, Cao Xing would have been an extra suspect in the police’s extra cases. He would be let out very soon.

By that time, could Qiao Hongye still be as happy?

Jing Yunzhao was not so generous to remind Qiao Hongye about it. She only walked up to her and took out the Ginseng root they were looking for from her bag.

“Qiao Hongye, I am an honest person who doesn’t speak in circles. Weren’t you looking for this? Such a pity that I… don’t want to give it to you.”

Jing Yunzhao finished provoking her and continued, “Such a large Ginseng. I’ll slowly stew the whole thing when I return tonight. Its juices are the finest ingredients needed for beautifying. Even if I have to just rub it on my face and treat it as a skincare product, I won’t let you touch a single strand of root hair. Satisfied?”

Previous chapter ( 104 ) | Directory | Next chapter ( 106 )

We have a discord! https://discord.gg /z9DHypf

#space rebirth #the favored genius #chinese to english #translation #novel

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exxar1 · 4 years ago

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Episode 7: New Year, New Project (Sort Of)

1/11/2021

Happy new year!

Things aren’t looking so good for the nation right now, but I’m pleased to say my new year is off to a good start. Sticking to my resolutions has been pretty easy thus far, especially the first one. Thanks to the Bible app on my phone and iPad, I’m able to keep up with my daily devotions on my lunch break. I also bought myself a Bible and a cover for it on Amazon as a Christmas present to myself. While I normally enjoy reading books on my Kindle or iPad, I decided that I prefer to read my Bible the old fashioned way. So I use that one for my devotions right before bed.

This week I also began work on one of my other resolutions. Last month, as I was browsing Amazon, I stumbled across a book titled “Single, Gay, Christian: A Personal Journey of Faith and Sexual Identity”. It’s by a young man named Gregory Coles. Both the title and synopsis intrigued me, so I bought it for reading later. This week, I decided to use my lunch break to read instead of just playing games or surfing social media on my phone. I started Greg’s book on Monday and finished it by Friday.

And…wow.

This is the synopsis from Greg’s website:

Let’s make a deal, you and me. Let’s make promises to each other.

I promise to tell you my story. The whole story. I’ll tell you about a boy in love with Jesus who, at the fateful onset of puberty, realized his sexual attractions were persistently and exclusively for other guys. I’ll tell you how I lay on my bed in the middle of the night and whispered to myself the words I’ve whispered a thousand times since: “I’m gay.”

Is it possible to be gay and still follow Jesus? And if so, what happens next? If you believe the Bible calls you to celibacy, is it possible to embrace that calling without feeling like a divine typo?

Single, Gay, Christian is the story of one person’s journey through these questions. It’s about acting like your own alter ego, about getting epiphanies from mosquitoes, about singing happy birthday to yourself while literally hiding in a closet. It’s about being gay, loving Jesus, and choosing singleness in a world that fears all three.

Greg is only in his late twenties, and he published his story just four years ago. I was immediately captivated by his writing as he put into words so many thoughts, feelings, doubts, questions, and fears that I wrestled with in my teen years and, again, have started grappling with after reaffirming my salvation and faith in God four months ago. Like him, I was terrified of anyone discovering my secret. Like him, I questioned why God had made me this way. But unlike Greg, the only way that I could reconcile my conflict was to reject God, the church and the Bible altogether. I chose to walk into adulthood on my own, living my truth as I saw fit.

Greg, however, stuck it out with God. The end result is that he came to believe it was God’s will for him to remain celibate. He’s currently serving as worship leader in his local church while teaching English part time at the university as well as writing a second book. As for me, I’m about to start the very same journey that Greg just completed.

Four months ago, when I finally surrendered to God in a heartfelt, pleading, somewhat awkward prayer on a quiet car ride home from work late one night, I knew in the back of my mind that I was going to have to return to the very same issue that I had wrestled with in high school. That was one reason I created this blog, and I’ve spent the last four months mentally preparing myself by slowly opening various doors to my past and peeking hesitantly behind them. The first door was episode two of this blog.

This week, as I read Greg’s story, I slowly realized two things. One, it was time to tell my story, and two, it needed to be more than just a blog. One of my new year’s resolutions was to tackle the issue of homosexuality and Christian faith, to reconcile this once and for all so that I could move on with the rest of my life. Greg’s story gave me the realization that the best way to tell my story was to also write a book. So that’s what I’m going to do.

But then something else occurred to me. I don’t want to tell just my story. I want to broaden the scope of the book to discuss this issue in more detail. I want to interview pastors and church leaders of different denominations to hear their interpretations of God’s view on this issue. I also want to talk to others like me who have been struggling with reconciling their faith in God with being gay. I want to deep dive on Google and Amazon to find books and other resources that will help me learn the history of the church and its relationship to the issue of homosexuality. My story is going to provide the frame. All of my interviews and research will be the painted portrait. I’ve even come up with a title: Living Beneath the Rainbow: Reconciling my Homosexuality with my Christian Faith.

Early in my senior year of high school, as part of a joint assignment for my Bible and English classes, my teachers assigned my class a religious topic that we had to research and write up in a term paper. In addition to the usual library research, we were required to interview the pastor and other leaders in our church. As with everything else in high school I did the absolute bare minimum required to complete this assignment. I loved English but despised Bible class, and I can’t even remember the topic my partner and I were assigned. I think it was predestination. Whatever the case, I did the library research, we both sat down for all of 10 minutes with the pastor, and then I wrote the paper. I have no doubt that our teachers gave us a “B” at best, or, more likely, a “C”.

Mrs. Tutty, I know you’re a regular reader of my blog postings, so I want you to know that I’m here for my makeup assignment. This time it’s just me, and this time I promise to do more than just the bare minimum. This project will require my heart and soul. In addition to the various research methods, Bible reading and prayer, I will be returning to my own past. There’s a scared, angry, frustrated, lonely – so desperately lonely – kid that’s been waiting 25 years for me to talk to him. I am going to have to peel away the faded scars of old wounds that I assumed were healed long ago. I need to reconcile with myself before I can start reconciling and building my new relationship with God. I know already that this is going to be painful, and part of me really doesn’t want to do this. I would rather just focus on the main issue and go from here.

But, in the last couple months, as I’ve been my Bible and learning all over again how to pray, I have felt God strongly reminding me of that burden that I thought I had thrown away years ago. In many ways, I’m right back where I started as a freshman in high school. How do I reconcile my faith with being gay?

But that’s not the only reason I need to write this book. Last year I decided that I wanted to get a boyfriend. I was tired of living the single life, and I had felt a need for quite some time to find that “special guy”. That was back in June when I created the Tinder profile and I met “Alfred”. And those of you who read my blog already know how that turned out. But that didn’t stop me from continuing my search for true love.

But, right about that same time is when God started to actively work within me, flipping all kinds of switches that woke me from my 23-year-long selfish complacency. I gave myself back to Him started this new journey.

Sometimes irony can be a real bitch.

After finishing Greg’s book, I have been having all kinds of new inner conflict. The main question now is, what if God’s will for the rest of my life is that I remain celibate? Just when I have begun experiencing a new kind of loneliness and the accompanying desire to satisfy that romantic hunger, I am now faced with the prospect that that hope will be forever denied me. My secret hope for this new project that I’m embarking on is that I will find the answers I’m looking for. That I will find a new peace with God and I can finally put to rest this issue once and for all.

But, deep down in my soul, my super-secret hope is that not only will I resolve and reconcile this issue, but that I will also be rewarded with finding love in a lifelong relationship with another Christian man. I desperately want to experience that love that my parents and all my brothers and so many other people in this world – especially other gay Christians – have already had the joy of living and experiencing.

But…

But what if I reach the end of this particular journey and I get the answer I don’t want to hear?

I promised God four months ago that I was His completely – heart, mind, body and soul. I will do whatever He asks of me. And in my head I know that He will give me the strength and resolve to follow through on that promise when He finally gives me answer to His will. But in my heart, I just don’t know if I can accept the answer if it’s one I don’t want to hear.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. In my typical, type-A personality fashion I’m listing all the things that can wrong with the car before I even begin the road trip. It’s time to just get in, turn the key, and start driving.

There’s also one more good reason to embark on a project like this one. I came back from Christmas vacation transformed. Not only did I feel well rested and refreshed, I also felt a very distinct sense of inner calm and centeredness as I jumped right back into a full time work schedule at both jobs. I hadn’t realized until now, looking back over the last seven months, just how angry, frustrated, and downright hostile I’d become, thanks to all the shenanigans of this country’s citizenry. I spent most of my free time surfing social media, arguing with strangers, ranting and raving like Chicken Little on speed and steroids, and most of it was for very little real result, except maybe fueling my own warped sense of righteous indignation and moral superiority. (But, for the record, I was right about almost all of it.) It also didn’t help that I was charging through most of my days on just 4 ½ hours sleep per night, thanks to the two full time jobs.

My ten day vacation was a Godsend, in more ways than one. Not only did I catch up on sleep, but I also took the time to do some serious reflection and prayer. When I returned to Las Vegas last week, I felt an eerie mixture of calm and peace, as if my whole self was enveloped in a nice, warm invisible blanket. Even that whole, crazy shitstorm on Wednesday at the capitol didn’t ruffle me. I completely ignored the TV in the break room at Walmart as I devoured Greg Coles’ story on my Kindle app. Even my interactions with the customers at both jobs were different. The old me would have been silently judging and cursing all the annoying people – the ones who take forever to do a simple task like printing off a bank statement for a loan application, or they ask dumb questions about common sense stuff, or they want to give me their whole life’s story while the ten people in line behind them silently glare at both of us.

But not the new me. I came into the new year with a new attitude. I knew I needed an adjustment. That’s why one of my resolutions was to be more kind, sympathetic and understanding to the people I interact with daily. But I think my calm, peaceful state of mind is also due to my renewed faith in Christ. I know that no matter how shitty the world around me is going to get, I have faith in the One who’s really in control of it all. And now, thanks to my new writing project, I have something into which I can pour all of my free time, my energy, my passion and my creativity.

I don’t know how long this will take. I’m hoping no more than a year, at most. I’ve already made contact with someone I found on Twitter who runs a ministry in Nashville, TN, that helps churches to create their own ministries specifically to help LGTBQ Christian teens who are struggling with their sexual identity and their service to God. I also contacted Greg Coles via his website to thank him for his book and I asked him if he would be willing to correspond with me to discuss his story – and my own project – further. No response as of yet.

But now I have a special request for all you out there reading this. If you know of someone like me who’s going through this same struggle and is willing to talk about it, or if you belong to a church that is either gay friendly or not, or if you know of any resources that you can point me to that will help in my study and research on this topic, I would greatly appreciate the assistance. I especially would like to speak to pastors or church leaders of the Lutheran, Presbyterian, Episcopalian or Methodist denominations. (I already have a Baptist pastor in mind for my first interview, hopefully later this week.)

Happy New Year, folks! It’s going to be a good one! I can feel it!

As my brothers would say, “Hoo-Rah!”

#single #gay #Christian #life #writing

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