#i think it's mostly because i have to have discipline to study/do homework | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carletes · 2 years ago

Note

Hi hibs, Ive been wanting to get into writing alot recently, and just wanted to know how you Got started. Your work is literally iconic

Hello!!! I'm so glad you want to get into writing! I'm not sure if you want to know how I got into writing period, or how I got into writing fanfic. I'm going to assume the former :) (also thank you for the compliment!!!)

TLDR, I started writing because my mother invested in my ability to express myself. I kept writing because I couldn't live without it. If you want to start writing, you need to maintain discipline (actually write), write because you want to not because you feel like you have to (from the heart!!), and engage with other written works (reflect as you read).

I've been writing for as long as I can remember. Honestly! I was a voracious reader as a child. My mother was a massive proponent of my reading habit, and she basically gave me book after book to devour. I also watched a lot of cartoons, so I had a massive imagination from a young age. I also, uh, was a maladaptive daydreamer. There were a lot of stressors in my life and in retrospect I have realized that I was a really, really anxious child, so fiction and fantasy offered me a world to escape into. As a result, I think I really did start with writing fanfiction. I used characters from stories and cartoons I loved and created stories in my head involving them and myself!! I was a little self-insert baby LMAO but I don't think there's anything wrong with that! Especially when you're a child, you're your own point of reference, right, necessarily? So I used to put myself in my own stories, whether acting them out on my own with my imaginary friends or drawing art and comics or writing things. (I also really enjoyed converting fictional characters to Islam as a child AKLJGKLAJGLKA fun fact!)

When I got older (like 6 or 7), I asked my mom for writing prompts. I took any opportunity I could to write. This is around the time I think I got into writing non-fiction as well! I LOVED writing persuasive essays (also on prompts my mother would give me, or as part of homework I got for my English or social studies classes). She also really emphasized the importance of reading widely, and I think that's a huge reason my vocabulary expanded as much as it did. She never really stopped me from reading books, no matter the genre, which...in retrospect, maybe not great, LOL, but it did mean I was getting exposed to complex writing and advanced vocabulary very young. She would give me long words and tell me to make shorter words from the letters, buy me tons of logic puzzle books, crosswords, etc, and she actively fended off other adults who were concerned that I was spending too much time on my hobbies and not enough time, idk, doing sports. I really appreciate how much she protected me from other people. She always had complete and utter faith that I would turn out just fine, and that my hobbies (writing, reading, painting, arguing lol) were going to be a huge reason why. Also, she pretty much read everything I read too, so we were able to actually talk about the books I was reading! I think this was huge tbh.

I fell off the writing train for several years, largely because I was suddenly surrounded by people who didn't think my ideas were interesting or complex or worth exploring. I was told my writing was too flowery (I now think that person was just jealous TBH.....), that I wasn't imaginative or novel enough, that I should just stick to writing poetry. So I convinced myself I was a persuasive writer and poet, but nothing beyond that. And there's nothing wrong with that!

Throughout, though, fanfic kept reeling me back in. I was 10? when I wrote and published my first fanfic (GENDERBENDED BEYBLADE), and I wrote on and off ever since - sometimes to publish, but mostly just for myself. Whenever I was dissatisfied or emotional over a book/piece of fiction, I'd let myself write fanfic to process it. I also had original characters that I created with some friends that we would roleplay through and I really do think that helped me understand how to create distinct characters who react to different stimuli in different ways. This is so important!!! And I think the early 2010/2011 tumblr landscape that offered OC tag games REALLY helped with this too. And again, none of this writing was really going anywhere...which was also really key. I was writing to my own satisfaction, no one else's, and I found that I was really critical. Throughout, I was still reading books. So my understanding of what good writing was changed and developed. It never stayed stagnant - and yet there were books I kept coming back to, no matter my age! What was compelling about them? That also really helped me figure out what timelessness in writing might look like.

But I still didn't see myself as a creative writer. I was a poet and an academic writer. Maybe an essayist. But I certainly didn't have the imagination to write original plot. I had been told that enough times my certain people. I believed it. When I wrote fanfiction, it was porn without plot. I could write smut. Really well, too! But that's not the same thing as being a creative writer (this is what I thought - it's not true at all).

It wasn't until March 2021 that I started regularly writing fanfiction to be published again. But it wasn't until late last year, when I started working on Carlando fanfiction, that I actually realized that I might really be a creative writer with the capacity to come up with plot. And now I'm really pissed off because who the fuck was anyone else to say that I wasn't, or that anyone else isn't, a creative writer? Writing is a muscle! No one is born a runner. No one is born an athlete. Some people are predisposed to certain activities and maybe are more naturally talented, but talent atrophies! Talent is useless without discipline! And you don't have to be a childhood savant to be good at something! You can start writing at 4, 11, 18, 25, 32, 40, it doesn't matter, so long as you are disciplined and curious and open-minded and dedicated to the craft, so long as you do it for YOURSELF first and foremost because it's something you enjoy and something that makes your heart happy even when it's difficult, because if you don't write it, you'll always feel like something is missing, because if you don't write it, it doesn't matter who else does: because you didn't write something when you wanted to write it.

Writing is a muscle you exercise. Writing is also an internal compulsion. And it is also an interactive process. If you want to start writing, you need to be able to do all three things:

Be disciplined in writing (not that you need to write a certain way or be organized in a certain way, just that you need to be able to write! period! no matter what! set goals and try your best to meet them! this will help SO much later on)

When you write something, write it because you NEED to, not because other people have told you you should write it or because you want to get views (that's important and it'll come later, but not early on!). Good writing really does come for the heart. It's very obvious when you read writing that isn't heart-felt. And it feels worse when you write something you don't want to write.

Engage with other works. I'm not saying you need to take a pencil to everything you read (though you can and it doesn't hurt lol) but really, reflect as you read! Why did this work? Why didn't it work? What might have made it better? How did it make you feel? And then incorporate all those lessons in your own writing!

Sorry. Wow. This got very autobiographical. And super long. I do not have a degree in English or creative writing. I'm a political scientist and proto-lawyer by training lol.....but I hope this helps anyway!

#hibi answers #hibi writing tips #i love stuff like this i loveeeee stuff like this pls feel free to ask similar questions

2 notes · View notes

hahanoiwont · 3 years ago

Note

Okay, hear me out: Sans gets a job as a physics professor on the surface.

I hear uni professors are super lazy.

okay tbh I think Sans would be like. a great and terrible professor. let us explore this idea let's play in this space

like his first year teaching. horrible. He's used to being a cryptic little gremlin and now he has to give away information? all of the time?? that's supposed to be a good thing??? no. He doesn't take it seriously and the students complain about how he's always late, his lectures are so obscure as to be meaningless, and he seems more interested in making fun of them than teaching.

Then I feel like maybe he gets a baby post-grad student who tracks him down from half a country away. They've read his extremely niche paper. It sneaks in clever but not mean-hearted academic mudslinging at the old stagnants in the field. It makes groundbreaking points from a unique perspective. It's positively made of jargon but the jargon is explained concisely and understandably. Baby postgrad has stars in their eyes--they had the exact same idea (it is not the exact same idea. but to their credit it is close and they would have gotten there if they knew more about magic) and he explained it so well. He's a genius, they say. Can they please sit in on one of his courses. any of his courses. They'll be a TA if he promises to read over this paper they've been writing, it's not done yet but they think it could really be something and he's the only person in the field to legitimize their theory...

Sans is not into this at all. He's a little weirded out, honestly. Or, he's trying to be. But also, he does remember being a baby physicist who wanted his physics idol to notice him...so sure, he'll throw them a bone. They can put in all of the work for organizing his classes and grading things and all, and he'll get coffee with them and talk theory once a week.

More fool him. Sans is microdosing on being a professor.

Baby grad student talks in their office hours about their "lecture hour" with prof sans and how he was actually just explaining something to do with... and to Sans's chagrin, people start actually attending his coffee hour. And then they start bringing their homework questions to coffee hour. And then x student has work but can y student record... and then Sans's lessons have just moved to a coffee shop. He is still teaching his class he's just not doing it when he's supposed to. There is an email chain going around with recordings for each lesson, and since Sans has never bothered with taking attendance, his coffee lessons quickly become his main curriculum, while his alleged lesson times are just times when his TA previews the material with the students and Sans makes jokes.

Reviews become mixed. About 6 students swear by his classes and will rearrange their schedules any which way to be in his class next semester. At least a dozen have dropped his class and refuse to take another from him. Baby grad student is actually getting somewhere with their research, which Sans absolutely did not expect. He starts actually using the lab time he was given to work with them on that, and since everyone knows prof sans doesn't care if you walk in or out of his classes, a couple of undergrads filter in to poke at diagrams and try to understand what's being said...boom. lab section of the course. It's not remotely covering the same information as, say, physics 101, but the students are getting experience and gaining confidence in a lab environment. And you're only allowed to skip lab safety if you have a provable ability to evade or survive multiple kinds of explosion and acid burns, so they learn lab safety, too.

I feel like at this point Sans's classes are less actual courses and more really informative interest clubs that students join for credit. You sign up, disregard the course information listed, and if you ask leading questions he might explain a particular theory or branch of pretty much any scientific discipline (since monsters have like 3 scientists, they try to cover everything). This works great until Sans gets annoyed with having to explain calc 2 a million times because someone has obviously failed in educating his undergrads. It's just in the name of efficiency and therefore laziness that Sans proposes a remedial study group.

So. Twice a week, prof Sans will teach physics 101, and once a week a rotating schedule of math, chemistry, or a handful of other subjects on request. If nothing is requested, he will do stand-up or magic tricks for 2 straight hours and then go home. (sometimes students organize and agree to not prompt him for anything so that they can see the show. it's pretty good stand-up and very good magic tricks). Twice a week, his undergrad duckling will cover mostly remedial calc and help with homework for whatever science/math class they can. Baby undergrad is finally hired by the school and no longer paid in food and research tips (some of which are cash but most of which are advice) from Sans. Sans is still allegedly teaching several courses, which he usually covers the material of; but only when cornered, bribed with coffee, or at the expense of one (1) joke. Most of his classes are just study groups under his or their own loose direction.

Strangely, this does seem to help students discover their own interest in the material, since it feels much more based in what they want to learn (because they have to put so much effort into getting their professor to actually teach them). Students take his courses for a laid-back semester, but actually end up learning a lot of diverse skills and shortcuts in a variety of fields. Sans is absolutely not preparing them for any kind of curriculum, but he is creating baby scientists in much the same way as he was taught--here is All of Science, what do you want to learn? We'll fill in the backlog of what you need to know as it comes up.

Magic allows for fascinating demonstrations, not only of how things work, but how it would look if it didn't work, or worked differently. Gravity is a universal favorite because Sans will sometimes let students jump from irresponsible heights and experience zero gravity for a while. Conservation of mass and energy has him summoning things out of thin air. When astronomy comes up, he'll take them out and let them use his own telescope to see exactly how this theory was first observed, or what it looks like when that theory comes into play in such and such a way. So Sans does not get fired for being a horrible professor. It's generally understood that any freshman who took Physics 101 with Professor sans M.S. may not have any idea what they were supposed to learn, but he turns out competent scientists who are willing to testify that he's the best thing that's ever happened to their science education.

Anyway I think Sans would end up as a wonderful professor--despite his best efforts.

#undertale #headcanon #i got carried away lol #i think sans has good stage presence and could be good at teaching #but i absolutely do not think he would stick to a curriculum unless it directly inconvenienced him that his students don't know things

28 notes · View notes

kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 4 years ago

Text

kiridai, haizaki + akashi seijuro II

part one here

For a moment, Akashi wonders whether he’s hallucinating.

Of course, he’s in perfect condition - both physical and mental - and this mirage can’t be one inspired by desire either. If that were the case, if it were some bizarre manifestation of his missing Teikō, he’d be imagining Kuroko or Midorima instead. Maybe even Aomine, though that’s a stretch.

He certainly wouldn’t have conjured up the Haizaki Shougo by choice.

“Oi, Akashi, long time no see!”

His fellow first year is leaning against the lockers, just a few strides ahead of Akashi, adorning a black hoodie over the issued white Kirisaki Daiichi shirt, first few holes unbuttoned and tie undone.

“Haizaki.”

Why Haizaki’s attending a school for the very rich, for those with power and success foretold in their futures, when he’s neither of those categories, Akashi doesn’t know. It’s hard to come up with a good guess either. All Akashi can think of right now is that, of all people he’s ever met in his life, Haizaki’s the last he would have ever liked to meet again (let alone go to the same school with, for the second time in a row), and that he’ll be late to his next class, if he dignifies Haizaki with a response longer than one word.

Unfortunately, it seems Haizaki has other plans.

“A little bird told me,” grins Haizaki, stepping in front of Akashi, and side-stepping when Akashi does. His face is inches away from the redhead’s face, as his tongue darts out over his thumb, “that you’ve not been able to join the basketball team here. Guess they were looking for a skilled team player, and you couldn’t fill the requirements, huh?”

“Enough, Shougo. I don’t have the time to entertain you.”

Akashi pushes against Haizaki’s shoulder, trying to get past. Haizaki pushes back.

“To think you kicked me out of the team - and now look at you.”

“Good. Bye. Shougo.”

“Three years here, and you’re not going to play basketball for any of them. Better start coming up with excuses to not play with your miracle buddies. They’re all going to have way surpassed you as players by the time we graduate.”

Akashi’s faintly aware of his shoulders shivering, as he glowers at Haizaki.

“Watch your tone,” he snarls.

For a second, Haizaki looks a little unnerved, as if he’s instinctually reverted back to the days Akashi was his captain. But the emotion soon passes. All that follows is a smug grin that haunts Akashi for the rest of the day.

It’s the disrespect; that’s what Akashi can’t handle.

The mere concept that some arrogant fool like Haizaki, who’s never worked for anything in his life, could have been handed a place on the first string on a plate, just because someone somewhere (Hanamiya) has such fun meddling with people’s lives.

*****

If Akashi had ever liked Haizaki at all, had ever held a single non-negative emotion towards the guy, he soon loses it. The boy's like a kanji whose definition you search up once, and now you’re seeing it everywhere you go. For weeks, Akashi hadn’t known Haizaki was a member of the same school. Yet now they've been bumping into each other every day. And, every time, Haizaki’s got trainers on, or a basketball in his hands - if he had had half as much an enthusiasm for the sport during middle school, then maybe he would have been able to continue as a member on the team - and he meets Akashi’s gaze to smirk, as the ball spins on his finger.

The time he once spent playing basketball, Akashi now spends riding, working on additional homework, studying Shogi tactics, and searching up Hanamiya’s name. The second year’s eyes tease him from within his computer screen, as he carefully reads through all the information on the Uncrowned Kings - searching for anything that he could possibly use against Hanamiya, since he’s already understood that this is an opponent he can’t face without preparation. But all he learns is that Hanamiya played ball with Imayoshi in middle school, that their team was expectedly successful, and that he won some university level prize for chemistry last year.

That, and (from a blog on the third page of Google results, by some kid who faced the Kirisaki Daichi basketball team last year): “I used to like superhero movies. I liked how predictable they were - that you could always bet on the hero being stronger than the villain. But now I’ve faced that fucker Hanamiya, I don’t know about that anymore. He’s the shittiest piece of shit I’ve ever met, and, not only does he get away with it, but also he completely defeated against my senpais, who’d spent years training for that moment. It’s like he’s sent from hell.”

It’s with this blog in mind, that Akashi, with his newly acquired position as student council head, decides to forgo fighting with Hanamiya face-to-face, to make the matter political instead. That’s one angle he knows he can succeed at; it's what his father trained him for.

He's superior to Hanamiya - by far. He's a born talent, and he'll know nothing but success in his life, once he's sorted out the second year. Hanamiya's nothing but a cheap bully in comparison.

*****

“Finally,” Akashi announces, towards the end of the student council meeting, sat with his back straight, “I’m concerned about the basketball team.”

There’s a collective sigh to varying degrees, by the other members of the committee. One girl slips the boy beside her a 10,000 yen banknote, as he rolls his eyes.

“Look, Akashi, you’ve not been here long,” begins the 3rd year Vice President, adjusting his glasses, “but I’ll save you the trouble of wasting your time with this. If you’ve got a problem with them; well, no, you don’t.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” replies Akashi, who knows damn well what’s going on, but who wants to hear it admitted by these buffoons who have let Hanamiya run free across the school.

The student council has spent so many hours of their week sat in this room of mahogany chairs with plush purple seats, with the large, arch-shaped windows which overlook the campus grounds: mostly the golf course, but with the indoor gyms in the corner, where the Kirisaki Daichi basketball team is no doubt messing around as Akashi speaks (why would they bother practicing if all they do is injure opponents?) And thus student council enjoys many privileges too, which one would only deserve if they were keeping the school in order - but that's something which they lost all hope in managing, the minute Hanamiya stepped onto this campus unchained.

“We don’t get involved with Hanamiya, or anything he does, or any troubles he might have allegedly cause. Ergo, we don’t get involved with any of the rest of them either.”

“The headmaster-“

“The headmaster’s an old friend of the Yamazaki family’s. Even if he wasn’t, he loves Seto and Hanamiya - they’re the type that's guaranteed to get into Tōdai and become very powerful in the future - he's always indulging in them. You know, in the past, we only had a sports scholarship for golf, but this year, Hanamiya claimed he had to have one for basketball, something about a talented player who couldn't afford the school fees. So it was up to us to factor that into the school's budget, because God forbid someone goes against Hanamiya. You can do whatever you want as student council president - we all know you're more than qualified for the position - but just leave Hanamiya be.”

Fighting his inner rage at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, Akashi exhales slowly. How can favouritism be so blatant? How can a couple kids with better opportunities than others have so much power?

And, worse, everyone’s starting to get up already, undermining his own power as the president. Like they think this meeting’s over.

“Haizaki Shougo has injured teammates in the past.” Akashi adds quickly, “it’s not in the school’s interests to allow him to represent us.”

The girl that had been sat opposite Akashi - the editor-in-chief of the school’s magazine - slips her backpack onto her back, as she asks, “has he injured anyone here?”

“He very well might have.”

“Then take it up with the discipline council.”

Akashi allows a thin smile to form across his lips. Hope. Potential for at least one ally against the Kiridai team.

“Who’s the head of the discipline council?”

“Hanamiya.” When the Vice President looks at Akashi, there’s genuine pity in his eyes. “With all due respect, I think you should give this up.”

******

As Akashi makes his way through the school grounds, to where a chauffeur should be waiting to drive him home, he stops briefly by the flower beds by the entrance to the main building. They’re being tended by a tall man, with dark hair, and darker eyes, but his movements are gentle as he sprinkles root powder onto the soil under the rose bush.

If only, thinks Akashi (watching the stranger, hoping the splendid colours of the flowers might lower his blood pressure enough to not explode at his father this evening), his school life could be so simple. How nice would it be for his only responsibilities to constitute of some gardening here and there, in a world where useless bureaucrats, Hanamiya, and (by default) the basketball team, didn’t exist.

But even this dream is quickly shattered.

“Furuhashi!” yells a pink-head obnoxiously, with a basketball jersey loose around his torso. He's accompanied by the second year who had led Akashi to the gym on that fateful first day, “you seriously ditched us just for your roses? We’ve had to scour the whole campus looking for you - Hanamiya didn’t want us to leave without you, but, man, between you and post-practice udon-”

“You've known me this many years, Hara,” replies Furuhashi, standing up slowly, “and you really didn’t to check whether I was by the flowerbeds first?”

Only now does Furuhashi see Akashi. They stare at each other for a long moment - Akashi with nothing but disappointment in his eyes, and Furuhashi clearly wondering why a stranger looks so disgruntled with his existence - until Hara interrupts.

“Oh hey, Akashi,” he grins, “you wouldn’t be standing there, hoping we’d invite you to join us, would you? Alas, only the first string’s allowed on these outings. But, if you wipe down the court, then I might just put in a good word for you.”

The man beside him chuckles. Furuhashi rolls his eyes, and wipes the remnants of soil of his trousers.

Akashi walks off without looking back once. He walks so fast he’s practically jogging. The more he hears of the pink-head’s voice, the more he thinks of Kise, or of all the Teikō team and of the times they spent together, post-practice, whilst now they’re spread across the country, whilst he’s stuck at a school with Haizaki and Hanamiya, because his father is so convinced his son will become a politician.

“I see you’re not on the basketball team anymore,” says the man that evening. His are the only words said over dinner; Akashi doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth. “Good. You should join the golf club instead; the prime minister’s son’s an alumni of theirs.”

In the night, Akashi dreams that he’s in an exam hall, but he can’t understand any of the questions in the test before him, and he’s not got a pen with him either. Feeling nauseous, he raises a hand, and the teacher lets him leave to the toilet - but with a distrustful glimpse in her eye, like she thinks he’s just a cheat. When he stands up, his belt snaps. Forced to hold his trousers in place himself, he runs all the way to the school bathrooms, but, when he finally finds a stall available, the lock on the front is broken, and Hanamiya’s filming him with a grin.

He wakes at 2am, yet can’t fall back asleep. Instead, he decides to search up the meaning of the dream, before shortly closing his computer again after all that comes up is insinuations of stress, fear, and cowardice. What’s worse is that it’s possible. He might be stressed. He might even be nervous.

At 3am, he finds himself watching a recording of Kirisaki Daichi’s match with Seirin last year. And, maybe it’s just the delirium of only having slept a couple hours, but, when the pixelated Hanamiya snaps his fingers and Seirin’s centre is moved out of the court on a stretcher shortly after, Akashi shivers.

He feels feverish, sick and cold at the same time, and yet he plays the match on repeat till 7am comes around, and it’s time to prepare for school.

*****

Hanamiya grins when he sees Akashi - and his rumpled shirt, and the dark circles under his eyes - during lunch.

“I hear you’re student president now,” he says, as he wraps his arm around the first year’s shoulders, close enough that Akashi can see the redness of the captain's knuckles, remnants from the previous student he dealt with.

Around them, students cast quick looks at the duo as they walk past. They gaze at Hanamiya with curiosity and thinly veiled worry, and at Akashi with nothing more than sympathy. He’s never felt more humiliated.

At last, glaring and making sure his voice retains a cutting edge, Akashi replies, “I am.”

“Well I don’t know if you know, but I actually run the discipline committee,” Hanamiya’s voice is practically singing, as he gives Akashi's arm a squeeze, “so if you ever have a problem with anyone, if anyone’s ever bothering you, just let me know. I’ll soon sort them out for you.”

Akashi clenches his fist, stares down at the ground. Bitter, bitter rage rises within him, but stronger is the sense of defeat. His heart tells him to apologise - for anything at all, just to get this man off his back - though he refuses to allow himself to sink so low. Better, he knows, would be to leave before he says something he’ll regret.

And, as he walks away, he hears Hanamiya’s voice behind him - “I look forward to working with you, Sei!” - and the words ring in his head for the rest of the day, like a threat.

He understands now, if nothing else, what the captain means, when he talks about ‘trash’.

****

authors notes:

if the above fic is unreadable, it’s because i was up researching akashi at 4am, and then spent 5am onwards writing and editing this. lowkey, i really enjoyed writing this! in particular, putting the work in to write the point of view of a character i’ve written so little for in the past, was a lot of fun, and, more so, trying to fit in little canon details about akashi into this fic too. (he comes off a bit of a patronising twat in the manga/anime, but, man, there’s a whole to be uncovered between the lines). so, hopefully, if any of y’all are akashi fans, you won’t notice too many ooc aspects in this :D

also, i'd like to dedicate these odd 2.2k words to @dust-of-fandoms and @thecrimsonacademic ! your enthusiasm towards this au really motivated me, so i hope you like this addition to the first part :)

37 notes · View notes

palmett-hoes · 4 years ago

Note

7 for Andrew??

( ask game )

7. Exists as a pretext for the intellectual exercise of seeing how much textual support I can find for something patently absurd

okay well this isn't patently absurd it's actually a very sad and sadly very common story for a lot of kids, but i did spend a lot of time combing the books for evidence of andrew’s relationship with books and reading. him being a big reader is a super common headcanon in the fandom, and im sorry to tell yall that we pulled that one out of our asses. from what’s available in canon andrew hates reading and refuses to do it in front of other people. so, i concluded that andrew is in fact, dyslexic, and that reading is difficult and frustrating for him. he avoids it whenever possible, instead relying on audible information that seems to work best for his memory. it also tracks that he wouldn’t read around other people because it would be displaying weakness in his eyes for people to see him struggling

so, the evidence. i’ve searched the books by appearances of words like “book” “read” “paper” etc. most things i can think are related to reading yknow? and there’s not one instance in the entire trilogy of andrew reading anything, ever. in fact, he canonically hates libraries and refuses to go in them. one time he’s handed a packet of an opposing team’s stats and he crumples it up and throws it in his locker immediately.

to put it in perspective, most if not every other characters is shown reading at some point or another, it’s just in very short, missable scenic descriptors. aaron buying a book in the airport. kevin reading a magazine in the dorm. the upperclassmen hanging out and doing homework together. neil reading foreign news sites. it doesn’t seem like much but the fact that andrew is never actually seen reading anything at any point ever,, is actually somewhat conspicuous if you pay attention to the fact that well,, everyone else does.

there’s a handful of other details, mostly andrew’s phone. he has an older model that both essentially forces him to use it slower to type, as well as disincentivizes other ppl from texting him and expecting a quick response. he doesn’t text neil at any point except for the essentials of setting up the phone, and it doesn’t seem like he texts with anyone else either. he specifically tells neil to call him, not text.

so let’s backtrack. let’s talk about what it means for andrew to be dyslexic.

(um,, a lot of this is gonna be based on articles and studies i’ve read but i don’t really wanna make this an Essay i want to cut through the explanations and background info so i’m gonna be making some Statements. if you’re curious or confused pls send me a message and i’ll tell u what i had in mind/what i was drawing from)

thematically, when thinking about andrew’s background, the most important thing i keep in mind about andrew is that he has never been lucky, ever. he is consistently, over and over, handed the worst cards. he is born and raised in the foster care system, and even within this (basically inherently traumatic system) he is ONLY placed in bad homes. he says so. maybe they vary in their methodology, but they’re all bad. so then i have to extend this reasoning to the other parts of his life. he has bad teachers, bad foster siblings, bad case workers. no one CARES about this boy, no one looks at him, no one asks why he behaves the way he does. he gets written off, over and over and over again, in every part of his life. that is FUNDAMENTAL to who he is and what has shaped his views and personality as a person

growing up, no one helped him with his homework, no one read to him at night. probably he had very limited experience with books before he entered school. if andrew is dyslexic he would have struggled in school from very early on, and he would not be receiving any help or support at home. he never learned any skills or coping mechanisms for dealing with the fact that he mixes up his letters or that his head hurts when he looks at them too long, because no one is paying attention to him to notice these things. if he’d received help, if people had been patient with him, he probably could have learned to read just fine and could have done well in school with some accommodations. instead, he just learned to resent reading, to hate books, because people were always trying to force him into it the wrong way, when he was a square peg in a round hole and he needed to approach reading differently from the other kids. but no one saw that there was a problem that could be helped, they only saw HIM as a problem, so no one helped him. not his foster parents, not his foster siblings, not his teachers. so he has no positive associations with reading, it’s just a continuous negative in his life

his teachers especially saw his outbursts and his resistance in class. they didn’t see that he was an abused, traumatized (autistic) child with a learning disability who couldn’t convey to anyone that reading was frustrating and physically painful for him, that he only needed a little more time and a little more support. they only saw his “attitude” and the fact that he took longer than his classmates. so they labelled him a “bad” kid, a “stupid” kid, and they didn’t question that judgement further

no one saw that, if he was given that extra time to read and think at his own pace, that he was brilliant. that he remembered everything that was ever said to him, word for word. they didn’t notice his self-discipline. his skill at puzzles and mind-games. the way he could see right through people and predict with uncanny accuracy how they would act and react. how good he was at putting clues together. his incredible spatial reasoning. they didn’t start conversations with him long enough to realize that he was incisive and observant and clever. they didn’t notice that he was bright and inquisitive, if reserved. that because no one ever answered his questions he learned how to answer them himself. that he started trouble because he was bored and under-stimulated. all they knew was that he never finished his tests and that he couldn’t read aloud in class because everything in schools is levels and data and test scores and working under ridiculous time requirements.

so i don’t really like that common characterization of andrew as a bookworm who does well in school. we know that andrew is intelligent, it’s so obvious that he’s brilliant to us from reading the books, but that’s because we’re seeing him through neil’s eyes. neil who looks at and understands andrew more than anyone else ever has, who sees in him the things that other people miss. and that’s important, because people have missed the fact that andrew is smart. but reading books, getting good grades, eloquent essays, that’s all one of the most typical, the most universally recognized ways to be smart. and i think that’s an injustice for andrew as a character and what his story represents, because he represents all the kids that got missed and passed over and thrown aside for not operating “correctly,” for reacting to things the “wrong” way

there are so many ways to be smart, so many different kinds of intelligence that get dismissed and written off for not being successful in the very narrow set of skills the school system teaches. giving andrew the most classic and conformative and universally recognized signs of “being smart” (actively AGAINST his passive characterization in canon) is honestly a disservice to him. and that’s what i like about him being dyslexic, of him struggling in school, because he can still be smart, be BRILLIANT (because he IS brilliant) but in non-conventional ways

#txt #andrew minyard #my posts #im talkin #anon #anonymous #ask #ask game #cw ableism #dyslexic andrew minyard

62 notes · View notes

rosaliepostsstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 13 - Of varying challenges, unexpected outbursts and nightly excursions

series masterlist

warnings: mentions of food and eating, sexual references, alcohol and underage drinking

word count: 3706

tags: @gloryekaterina ; @thatguppienamedbae ; @sagittarius-flowerchild ; @scoobiessnacks ; @pandaxnienke ; @harrysweasleys ; @ickle-ronniekins ; @hufflepuff5972 ; @calmspencer ; @izzyyy-1 ; @amourtentiaa ; @thisismynerdyself ; @hufflepuffalice ; @barneswidow ; @lumos-barnes ; @slytherclawbitch ; @weasleygrapes ; @famdomhideout ; @mollenniumfalcon ; @accioweaslcy ; @freddie1978 ; @weasleysprofessionalhoe ; @lunarlovegoodx ; @lalasunny ;

Morning took you by surprise. You couldn’t remember laying in bed much before falling asleep, or the very moment itself. It was almost as if you blinked, though when you opened your eyes it was 8 hours later.

All of last evening felt surreal. How could it be? After weeks, or months even, of emotional swings, you’d finally confessed to George? And he confessed back? Your best friend of over 6 years..?

You couldn’t fully cross out the possibility of the last couple of months being a wild fever dream.

“Morning,” Alicia muttered sleepily, following with a yawn. “You awake..?” “Mhmm… good morning,” you replied.

Angelina was already up and dressed. She was sitting by her desk, and once you saw her mischievous smile when she turned to you, you knew last night really had happened. Because this girl was just as excited about you getting the boyfriend of your dreams, as yourself.

When you walked down the stairs, the boys were already there – Fred and Lee sitting on the back of the couch and George standing in front of them. They were laughing about something, you were graced with the sound and the sight of George’s laughter the moment you stepped into the room, for a lovely start of the day.

Once Fred noticed you, you waved at them as a greeting. George’s facial expression mirrored yours - a dreamy smile, widening with every second and every step you took in his direction. Fred and Lee left, having said hi to you, muttering teasingly about letting the lovebirds have a moment to themselves.

“Morning,” you said, beaming at him with your arms outstretched. You didn’t particularly lean in to kiss him when you approached him, but George clearly went in for a hug. “Morning, love,” he replied, squeezing you tight against himself. You felt a tiny pang of disappointment in that millisecond; wondering, whether you should’ve kissed him yourself right away if you wanted to, or if maybe, he’d kiss you in a moment. Being in a relationship was a new thing to you on its own, let alone being in a relationship with George.

Yet he leaned back with a shy smile, his hands were slowly sliding back along your sides, probably ready to let go, perhaps to take your hand. He looked as if he was about to say something, but he didn’t, noticing you glance at him expectantly without even knowing. “Hmm..?” he mumbled and you felt yourself blush a bit. You couldn’t really give this one a surprise kiss, either, with his height. So you looked at him cheekily, puckering out your lips.

You saw the realisation flash through his gaze, then a glimmer of his confidence exhibited in a small smirk. He leaned in and kissed you sweetly on the lips.

“I keep forgetting I can just do that, now,” he chuckled, before giving you another kiss on the cheek. “Not only you can, but I’d also say it’s encouraged,” you said shyly, lowering your gaze for a moment and biting on your bottom lip. He gave you an appraising sort of look with a defiant smile, standing back straight.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, giving your waist a light squeeze before letting go, to take one of your hands as the two of you went on your way to the Great Hall. “Did you sleep well?” “I did, actually. Very well, even. And you?” you questioned back with care. “Mhm,” he nodded, “wanna hear what I dreamed of?” You giggled. “I don’t know, do I?” you quipped, giving him a suggestive look.

He choked a laugh, looking at you surprised. He cleared his throat, before explaining himself – “it was all decent.”

“I’m worried he’s just saying that,” you admitted to Fred and George, sitting by the breakfast table. Lee sat separately, with his girlfriend, so you were left alone with those two.

In the beginning, you found yourself speaking to George quietly, sometimes even in a whisper. You were conscious about how you referred to him, as did he, avoiding pet names that would otherwise slip your tongues. For a while you ate mostly in silence, Fred’s eyes kept glancing between you and George as if looking for some physical changes in you; like huge, flashing letters saying ‘I’m in a relationship’. Yet no matter how hard he looked, the two of you looked just the same as 24 hours before – excluding your facial expressions and general demeanour.

This prompted you to try and shift the atmosphere a bit, thinking of a new conversation topic. That’s how you started talking about how the three of you disappointed Lee as a group of friends when he wanted to introduce his girlfriend to you officially. Since then, you had all apologised, and Lee being himself – did not hold a grudge for long, but you still felt bad.

“Why would he,” Fred shrugged, “if he says he forgives us, then he forgives us.” “Granted, he did call us a couple of interesting names in the privacy of our dorm room-“ added George, to which Fred quickly interjected “-and interestingly, he seems to have left you out in that,” turning to you. “… To his own luck,” muttered George. “Anyway, he had his rant, he’s not hiding his feelings.”

“Nonetheless, we should probably make up for it. And we still haven’t even met the girl,” you pointed out. “True…” George agreed. Fred craned his neck, looking around the great hall. “You think they’re eating in a broom cupboard? I can’t see him anywhere… and I wanted to see what she looks like…”

“Let’s just meet up in the Three Broomsticks, then,” George proposed. “… treat them both to loads of butterbeer..?” you added. “Yeah,” he mumbled, clearly finding this the best solution. “Freddie?” He shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

With that bit settled, you were still left with a whole day on your hands, torn between your sense of responsibility – with a few homework assignments left to do, and there was always some studying to be done – and spending time with your boyfriend.

“D’you have any plans for today..?” you asked George. “Nothing in particular, why?” “I should do some schoolwork…” “We’ll probably just hang about, mess around…” George pondered. “… do some work, make some business…” added Fred. “Yeah.” “I think I’ll go to the library after lunch, then,” you decided, practising some self-discipline.

Almost a couple of hours of sitting in the library passed before you started to seriously doubt your self-discipline. The assignments you still had to do seemed less and less grave, you were more and more sure, that the time you had left was more than plenty. Just a bit more, and then we’ll take the rest of the afternoon off – you told yourself, planning out your presentation for ancient runes.

Sucked into your work, used to people walking around the library to access the books they needed, you hadn’t noticed a familiar pair of footsteps approach you.

“Everything going well?” George asked, sliding into the seat next to you and effectively startling you. “Good Merlin!” you exclaimed, yet cautious enough not to attract Madam Pince’s attention. George rubbed your shoulder apologetically with a sheepish smile. “It’s… alright,” you answered, not mentioning the fact that you were about to give up. “Want any help?” “Help..? You want to help me with my homework? And how’s yours going?” you snickered. You had usually been the one to nag George about completing and handing his assignments in, as both he and Fred thought that their presence in class alone exceeded expectations. “I’ll have you know that I’ve been on top of my homework lately, handing everything in, on time, like a good boy,” he defended himself, holding a hand over his heart, as you hummed in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Georgie, I’ll be fine on my own with this.” “’kay then, I’ll just keep my girl company,” he concluded.

You felt your heart flutter at being called his girl, thinking this would really take some time getting used to. And you knew one thing for certain – you’d have to do some more work now.

The next day, more like usual, you woke up before the boys. Not all that hungry, you decided to hang out on your own in the common room a bit, in case they did come downstairs before the time for breakfast would be over.

Fred was the one to wake up first, while George slept in on a Sunday morning. He walked downstairs and the two of you went to have breakfast on your own.

Once you were sitting by the table, you felt one thing hanging over you – no matter how awkward it may have seemed.

“You know he thought we were going out?” you blurted out without providing further context at first. “Like, you and I, actually seeing each other,” you muttered as if the concept was possible only in some totally alternate universe.

Fred snickered quietly. “Thanks, love.” “Oh, you know what I mean.” Fred smiled to himself at how much he did know, that George thought him and you were a thing; the image of drunk George trying to fight him still quite fresh in his mind. No point in telling you that. “Yeah. Being a teenager in love seems like a real pain in the ass, makes me glad to be single.” “Really..?” you asked with a hint of disbelief in your voice, and Fred shrugged.

And you realised, that suddenly, all that pain in the ass was irrelevant to you. Being a teenager in love meant the constant possibility of stupid misunderstandings and pointless jealousy, causing so much emotional pain – you’d gone through so much of it in the last months, yet the morning you woke up as George’s girlfriend, all of that seemed tiny in comparison to the happiness and excitement that love brought. It seemed irrelevant.

Excitement made your heartbeat slightly faster, as you made your way to the Three Broomsticks with George and Fred – about to meet Lee and Tara, his girlfriend.

You had been informed, or rather threatened, by Fred, that should you and George act too couple-y during that meeting, successfully making him an absolute third wheel, he’d convince Tara that you’re actually a throuple. Neither you nor George would put it past him and you’d rather spare yourself the awkwardness of explaining to the girl that your boyfriend’s twin brother is just a nutter.

When you arrived, Tara and Lee had already been inside, saving a booth. You immediately recognised the girl, and as the conversation slowly unravelled, you understood more and more, why the relationship had been secret for so long.

Tara was a 7th year Hufflepuff who you shared a few classes with, yet you’ve never exchanged a word with her. Mostly because of the fact that the girl kept to herself. She was clearly very shy, especially if one’s used to being friends with George, Fred and Lee. She warmed up, though, and you quickly saw just how sweet of a personality she had. You had to keep yourself from ‘aww’-ing, seeing her and Lee together. Though you couldn’t help wondering - how the relationship came about.

“Soo… how did the two of you meet?” you decided to ask and you could see the girl blush a bit. “I… I lost a bracelet in the quidditch stands once, and as I kept looking and looking for it, Lee came to help me,” she explained. “I thought she was cute, I couldn’t not try my luck. So I kept going after her in class until she agreed to go out with me.” “I thought you were nice, I was just… shy,” Tara giggled melodically and you couldn’t fight the grin off your face. At some point during that story, George’s hand snaked behind your back to rest on your waist and you felt content.

Going back to the castle you concluded, you wouldn’t mind if Tara made a permanent addition to your regular group of friends.

On Tuesdays, you had charms before lunch. George had moved to sit next to you permanently and behind you, past Alicia, Angelina and Fred, sat Tara next to Lee.

Charms lessons were never particularly organised, Professor Flitwick, even though a brilliant teacher, did not have the talent of keeping a class quiet, like Professor McGonagall or Snape, for example. Most times, the lecture part of the class was somewhat civilised – most people were listening to whatever Flitwick was teaching (at least with one ear).

But that day, no one seemed to pay attention to the man pouring his heart out at the front of the class. Students were chatting, reading magazines, playing exploding snap or practising spells – completely unrelated to the lesson’s topic.

You were guilty as well, charmed by George’s handsome face you sat pretty much with your back turned to the Professor. You were giggling at your boyfriends jokes as he held your hand upon the desktop, playing with it. He even brought up the topic of Valentine’s Day coming up in less than two weeks, when an unlikely event happened.

Professor Flitwick had had enough. You were quite sure you had never heard him produce a sound as loud as when he yelled at you all. His usually immaculate hairstyle became dishevelled as he let go of all his pent up emotions.

Once he was done shouting, the class was silent like never before.

“It is high time you all learn some self-discipline and organisation and do something productive in your 7th year, NEWT-level class. You will make groups or you may work alone if you like, and for next week’s class, I want each group to invent a charm. I expect to have each group’s composition on my desk, by tomorrow afternoon,” he instructed sternly. “Class dismissed.”

With your jaw still slightly opened, you glanced to your side at George. His eyebrow was raised and he seemed almost impressed. Turning to your friends at the back, you involuntarily spoke in almost a whisper, even as most people were already shuffling out of the classroom. “Do we work together? The five of us..?”

Inventing a spell was quite simple, but still not easy. It’s not something that’s taught usually, either. Tara, Lee, Fred, George and you were currently sitting around a table in the library, trying to come up with what kind of charm you could even invent, for a start.

“That’s rubbish… there’s already a charm for everything..!” Fred complained, tapping his fingernails on the table. He was right, everything you came up with already had a charm for it. “Let’s invent a charm that you can use instead of having to shower,” Lee proposed with enthusiasm. “Good luck with that. If it were so easy, you think no one would’ve invented it already? There’s a scouring charm, but no charm for washing your own stinky body?” you said pessimistically. “How about a charm you could dry your soaked robes with? There’s the hot air charm, but what if we made something that would make the water just vanish, or evaporate instantly?” George elaborated. “But what if you miss? Especially while we’re inventing it, we’d need to test it, and what if you hit yourself instead of your clothes..?” Tara interrupted, her face showing slight terror as she was probably imagining the possible outcomes.

“We need something simple…” you muttered, deep in thought, and deep sighs from everyone around followed.

Instead of sitting in a circle, sighing without any outcome, you decided to start with some theory. You all shuffled around the library, looking for books with information on inventing spells you could learn something from. It was quite a sight, seeing Fred and George buried in books. With all that new knowledge, you decided to call it a day, planning to meet up again over the weekend, hoping to come up with some ideas over time.

Friday evening marked a whole week since you and George had started dating. Angie and Katie thought it’s been far too long since you had some proper girl time, so you decided to have a little slumber party.

You were just finishing up setting up the pillows and blankets so that the four of you could sit comfortably on the floor in the middle of the room, when Alicia stepped inside, clutching a few fire-whisky bottles in her hands.

You stared at her with your mouth slightly open as Angelina emerged, clicking her fingers in approval. “Don’t you have some quidditch practise in the morning or something?” “Nope,” she replied defiantly, looking at you with mischief written all over her face. You could’ve expected it to be that type of girls’ night.

The alcohol burned the back of your throat in the beginning, but as the conversation went on, you started enjoying the warming sensation and the fire-whisky began to go down like a soft drink.

“But hey, hey hey… elephant in the room,” Alicia pointed her finger upwards, looking at you. “… hooow is it, dating your perfect boy?” Angelina asked, draping an arm over your shoulder and accentuating the last couple of words. You giggled dorkily at the thought. “It’s… awesome.” “Just awesome?” “Shh- shh… how’s his kissing?” Angelina questioned further, lowering the tone of her voice. Your face went even hotter if that was possible. “Ugh- it’s out-of-this-world. Seriously, I didn’t think snogging could feel this good,” you replied, a bit abashed, thinking dreamily of your boyfriend's lips in your drunk state.

“And have you…” Angelina trailed off. “…tried the hokey-pokey..?” Katie butted in, wiggling her eyebrows. “…the dance of the beast with two backs..?” giggled Alicia. “Gosh, no! You perverts..!” you laughed at them. You felt slightly nervous at the mere thought of doing such things with George. “I’m still getting used to holding hands and kissing after being in the friend zone for so long, I think I’d end up with a heart attack..!”

After that, the fire-whisky drained quickly. You got bored with party games, and when someone, not quite clear who, suggested getting some snacks from the kitchens, suddenly everyone was on board. It was past curfew, you slipped out of the almost deserted common room and the sight of empty castle corridors apparently woke up the sense of adventure in your drunk group of friends. Naturally, even though you tried to keep quiet, you weren’t really aware of how loud you were still being. And you weren’t even going in the right direction, not that any of you had noticed.

But when Katie thought she’d heard a noise, all of you panicked. You ran for your life for a while, just to realise you had lost your friends after a few minutes. Terrified, you walked up to a corridor intersection to scope your way out, when you heard someone running from behind you. It was dark and you forgot to bring your wand from your room, you pressed your back against the wall, feeling your heart about to stop.

Then a hand grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you towards one of the corridors. “Come on..!” whisper-yelled a familiar voice, bringing a bit of comfort, even though you still had no clue what was happening. George dragged you into a broom cupboard some distance away, quickly locking the door behind you.

He loosened the panicked grip on your wrist and stood fully facing you know in this tight space, holding his hands up on the wall above your shoulders. “Georgie..?” you whispered, still not fully certain. “That’s me, baby, but shh…” he shushed you, and a second later you could hear quick, uneven footsteps behind the door, then slowly fading away. Whoever that was, only passed by the door.

“Georgie?” “Hmm?” “I’m very drunk,” you blurted out, suddenly feeling the need to be completely open and honest with him. He held in a laugh. “I… I‘ve noticed.”

Since he was standing so close anyway, you wrapped your arms around his middle. Your head fell to rest against his chest on its own, feeling sudden tiredness wash over you. His hands slipped down the wall to wrap around you too.

“Why were you wandering around the corridors in the dark?” he asked. “We tried to get some snacks from the kitchens.” “You realise you’re on the complete opposite side of the castle..?” he said, to be met with silence. “…Nevermind.” “How did you find me?” “Fred, Lee and I were setting something up when we heard you all in the distance. Then I saw you run off in the other direction for no reason, so I ran after you.”

You felt stupid now, trying your best not to think just how stupid the sober you would be feeling the following morning.

“I think we should be clear now. Follow me and try to be as quiet as possible,” he instructed, before opening the door, checking the perimeter and leading you out – holding your hand tight the whole way.

When you stepped into the common room, you saw the rest of the girls already there, waiting with Fred and Lee. “Right, I think you’ve all had enough adventures for one night, don’t you think?” said Lee with a raise of his eyebrows, turning to them. They all just murmured in reply, clearly as embarrassed as you were, then made their way to the dorms.

“I think he’s right, love,” George said to you softly, squeezing your hand lightly, and you nodded, looking down at the floor. “Will you go to bed now?” “Yes, I will.” “And Y/N/N?” You hummed sleepily. “Next time you drink, try to stay in one place, I don’t want anything happening to you, alright?” You felt further embarrassed, but his concern warmed your heart. “I’ll do my best.”

“I love you,” he whispered, cupping your face and giving you a lingering kiss on the forehead. “Good night.” “Good night Georgie, I love you too…” you replied, not really wanting to go to sleep just yet. But he let go of you after that, so with a slight pout, you shuffled back to your dorm for the night.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley series #george weasley fanfiction

22 notes · View notes

luminous-studiess · 4 years ago

Note

Hi. :) You said that you're trying to consciously make studying enjoyable and productive. Do you think you can tell us what you're doing exactly? Thank you. ❤️ Hope your day is fantastic and productive.

OHHH thank you for asking this, i’ve been wanting to share this for a while. i think @studyimpression asked this too a while back, and i wasn’t able to answer. long post ahead! HOW I MAKE STUDYING ENJOYABLE AND PRODUCTIVE: SECOND HALF OF 2020/QUARANTINE EDITION i’ve mentioned this briefly here, and i still stand by a lot of these tips, mostly because this is my general baseline for what i consider ‘enjoyable’ and ‘comfortable’. but i do think i can expand on these especially in terms of productivity. what i’ve discovered, and what has helped me get things done is knowing that studying is not an inherently comfortable or easy thing to do. and knowing this already makes you manage your expectations about what you need to do, and how much hard work needs to be put in. however, there are things you can do to make the workload manageable and the process less difficult. 1. TRY TO MAKE YOUR STUDY HOURS/SPACE AS COMFORTABLE AS POSSIBLE: A “HAPPY/PRODUCTIVE” ROUTINE this does not mean that you need your own, personal workspace (although that would be a bonus) or anything particularly fancy. things are not productivity, and as long as you have the proper learning resources, you have it in you to succeed. however, i do think it really helped me to start to associate studying with some level of peace and focus by setting a routine which made me start to associate getting productive with a little peace and pleasure. as i’ve mentioned in my other posts, my favorite thing to do lately is to get up early, do a quick freshening up, and to pretend my dining room is a small cafe by making myself an iced coffee and turning on some jazz music. it’s nothing expensive or overly fancy (in fact that whole kilogram of coffee is like... less than 10 dollars), but it allows me to pretend that i’m in a starbucks, and it feels unbelievably peaceful while i start studying. that helps me get going at a very early hour, and this routine makes me excited to get up and start working. personally i think it’s a very good way of treating yourself while being incredibly disciplined. after doing this lately, i feel as if i’ve been more responsible and accountable, but i also feel peaceful and not overworked! however, this also means: 2. KNOWING WHAT HOURS YOU ARE MOST PRODUCTIVE AT + SETTING A DEFINITE AMOUNT OF WORK HOURS PER DAY i don’t have classes yet, so i have a little freedom to decide when i’ll start working. however, i do have an urgent deadline to finish before classes, so i’m forced to do a lot of work during very unstructured days. that’s why it helped to (a) EVALUATE WHAT TIMES OF THE DAY I FEEL MOST FOCUSED and (b) to track the number of hours i work. so on point (a): studying is not comfortable. it’s actually very tiring. and it helps to see when your body feels the most energy to be able to focus for several hours at a time, doing intensive tasks. i recommend that you try different times in the day to finish something you need to do with complete focus (more on that later), and see at what time your body naturally responds/feels focused. well... this doesn’t apply if you have online classes, and are forced to sit at set times, but this helps for the times when you have to do independent work/homework/revision.

from personal experience, i work best from 7 am to about 10 am. then my body tends to go into a slump until late afternoon and before 12 am. it’s different for everyone, and you really have to listen to your body. (b): it’s inevitable that you have to dedicate many hours to get good results. i really recommend setting a minimum number of hours per day as a quota/the bare minimum. you don’t have to do them all in one go! maybe you might do the pomodoro method and spread these hours out, but it helps to have a baseline for what you consider productive. (mine is four minimum). use a timer or a productivity app like forest. count your hours. set goals within those hours (like assignments that need to get finished), then take a break after. you’ll feel so proud of yourself, i promise. 3. FOCUS AND DISCIPLINE: FOCUS IS A MUSCLE YOU HAVE TO EXERCISE AND STRENGTHEN this is not naturally enjoyable, but it makes you productive, and is a skill that needs practice. i also have a poor attention span, so this is something i had to work on! i thought i was naturally lazy, but this all changed when a friend told me “hey. focus is a muscle. it needs to be worked out regularly”. so slowly, i realized that i had to put a lot of work and effort into focusing on one task at a time, and ignoring all distractions. again, this wasn’t easy; i had to use apps like forest to lock myself out of my ipad so i wouldnt goof around on social media/games. but once i started to get used to being disciplined about getting work done every day, and finishing certain tasks, it became even easier to focus on what needed to be done. it really isn’t perfect yet, but i do find that concentrating on one task keeps me in a “focus” mode, and helps me to get things done much more easily and even calmly. however, if there are days you can’t focus. acknowledge that. rest first, then go back to work. 4. MAKING CHECKLISTS OF EVERYTHING/PLANNING i would consider myself a very carefree person and used to hate planning. but once i started writing everything down, scheduling on calendars, and making lists, i became less afraid of what i needed to do, because i could visualize what was due, and how much time it takes to break down huge tasks into smaller, more manageable deadlines. i would recommend using a notebook or a program (like Notion! it has a free premium plan for students.) to map out all the things you need to do. it also helps to break down tasks into subtasks, so that even if you do a little, you can still check it off and feel less overwhelmed. put your deadlines on google calendar immediately, and set aside a little time at the start of your workday to see and write down what needs to get done, and what you WANT to get done. this also helps in lessening the time i became anxious about making decisions re: what i needed to do! forming processes which made my studying easier made me much less scared of starting 5. EVALUATE YOUR DAY: BEING MINDFUL, BE PROUD OF WHAT YOU’VE ACCOMPLISHED as i get ready for bed, i like to run by my lists and check what i’ve finished, what i haven’t gotten done, what needs to get done. i also ask myself what i did well that day, and what didn’t go so well. this isn’t harsh self-critique! it just helps to know how i can make my next study day more efficient AND enjoyable (sometimes i just end up looking for nice playlists for studying....) 6. DON’T SWEAT THE SMALL THINGS!!!! it’s easy to worry about doing things wrong, especially now, when so much of our learning is self-guided. But as long as you’re doing the work, being disciplined and accountable, but also gentle with yourself, then you don’t need to worry about the tiniest details. DO YOUR BEST, AND MOVE ON. <3 7. FINALLY: NEVER ASSUME THE WORK IS EASY, AND NEVER ASSUME THAT IT IS IMPOSSIBLE. we tend to underestimate or overestimate what needs to get done, and that gets in the way of being productive. we become scared or lazy or overwhelmed, and it makes it hard to move! know that learning is very very difficult, but putting in the work and accomplishing something is beautiful, and that it is a PROCESS. and always know that you are capable of great things if you have the discipline and the grit. i hope that helps. don’t forget to take many breaks and do the things you love. intense work is meaningless without equally intense rest. please take care, and stay safe!!! -- sam <3

56 notes · View notes

alienswithbeans · 5 years ago

Text

Guide to Finding Motivation

So currently we are living through a pandemic, many countries are in lock down, schools and workplaces forced to move online (mostly, apart from essential workers obviously). Finding motivation to complete tasks such as school work or just work in general is pretty difficult under the stressful circumstances. Throughout this post i hope to inform you about motivation and tips on how to stay motivated!

What is motivation?

Motivation can be defined as what causes or directs a person to behaviour or to repeat a behaviour. It can be driven by other people or events (extrinsic motivation) or come from within the individual (intrinsic motivation).

Common misconceptions

“Some people have intrinsic motivation while others do not”

Intrinsic motivation is NOT static, it fluctuates within individuals at different times, and we have the ability to generate intrinsic motivation!

“Rewarding behaviour boosts motivation, therefore enhances performance”

Rewards boost motivation when used alongside algorithmic tasks (set of instructions that lead you down one path i.e.; checking out customers at a supermarket).

Rewards hinder performance when used in conjunction to conceptual tasks.

Study showed that when money was used as a reward for conceptual tasks that the individual lost intrinsic interest. The idea of: “If you do this you get this”. It makes people feel like they have to give up some of their autonomy (feeling of control/ self-directed freedom and moral independence), and it is in our very nature to rebel against such notions.

Working under motivation of external rewards narrows focus, making you more focused on obtaining the reward rather than completing your task to your full potential, and thorough exploration of ideas.

If used as the base of your motivation, rewards can have consequences.

Cheating, shortcuts and unethical behaviour can be encouraged as it allows you to reach your goal faster and obtaining your reward. A common example of this would be copy pasting a large section of a lengthy paper due. In the end, this cheating behaviour only disadvantages you!

Short-term thinking is fostered in an environment of reward based motivation for completion of goals. As the drive for completing your goal is the reward, you can forget the long-term impacts. For example copy & pasting notes on a subject that you didn’t even read through to show you’ve completed your homework, then impacts your ability to perform well on a test later that week.

As explained above, poor performance for conceptual based tasks and diminished creativity.

“You have to begin tasks when motivated”

Often more than not, we have to complete tasks whether we like them or not. They are either mandatory for a passing grade or required for you to get your pay check at the end of the week. If you had to begin these tasks when motivation struck, you’d be failing all of your classes right now and broke af.

Motivation is often the result of action, not the cause of it. Momentum is gained once there is action. How can you build up speed if you don’t start running first?

“We are great at determining what motivates us and what doesn’t”

After living with yourself for your whole life, you’d think you know what you find interesting and motivating, but no. Humans are terrible at determining what motivates us and what doesn’t. A study showed that when a group that was given a “boring task” to do, and was asked to rate their level of engagement before doing the task, they highly underestimated their level of engagement. Showing that people tend to underestimate their power to generate intrinsic reward when faced with boring tasks.

This could explain why we find it so difficult to start tasks, so try not to allow yourself to engage with negative thoughts about the nature of the task to be completed. We need to learn to not overthink/ predetermine the level of interest for a task because our prediction is often inaccurate.

Ways to spark intrinsic motivation

“Long-term”

Long-term “solutions” take time and are pretty broad/vague answers, but they are very important in seeing the bigger picture surrounding motivation.

Ambition is the desire for something more, dreaming big! People tend to set their ambitions too low, making them uninterested in pursuing the task. That’s why it is important to dream big, and set challenging goals (although not unattainable, because then that’s just discouraging). Make sure to create your own goals, as it allows you to keep a sense of autonomy, whilst also setting the goal at an optimal range of difficulty (which will be further explained further down).

Mastery is the desire to better ourselves. It refers to our want to learn and keep learning until we reach a point where we are proud of our knowledge on a topic.

Purpose is the desire to better something bigger than ourselves, to better the world! Having a sense of purpose in what you are doing is very important, as it gives value and reasoning as to why you are doing it.

Expectancy is the belief that you are capable of achieving the goals you set out for yourself. You expect that you have the expertise/ confidence/ resources for what you need to do to achieve this goal.

Observation leads to motivation contagion. This idea is best explained through an example; imagine a friend that engages in an activity or subject that you’re initially not a fan of. But you see this friend repeatedly gain enjoyment through participating in this activity, therefore it influences you to also try gain enjoyment from this activity too because your friend gains so much joy from it. This effect can also be seen after listening to positive podcasts or reading motivational books, quotes etc.

“Short-term”

Short-term “solutions” are some practical ways in which you can see results in your motivation levels and productivity almost immediately. These tips can be incorporated into your everyday routine, keeping in mind the long-term ideas.

Discipline yourself. Work with the limitations you have, using your knowledge on how motivations works. Knowing that not everything is going to be fun and exciting, make an effort to committing to a task and sitting through it.

Which brings us to commitment. Starting the task isn’t the hardest part for no reason. It is difficult because at the start is when you feel most uncomfortable, you are nervous and unfamiliar with the task. What you can do is set a short timer for as little as 2 min, this forces you to commit to feeling uncomfortable for a short amount of time until either the timer is up and motivation kicks in, you keep going or you’ve at least started your task. 2 minutes of work is better than nothing.

Planning also ties into commitment. When you plan a certain time for you to begin a task, you make your task a necessity, leaving out the time for your brain to dwell over when you’re going to start something. Again, you can’t rely on motivation to kick in when you need it, so instead you make it kick in yourself.

Eliminating distractions is very important, because to point out the obvious, its extremely hard to focus with distractions. So do your best to minimise distractions to the best of your abilities for example, close the door to your study, turn your phone on do not disturb, etc.

Maintain adequate goal difficulty with your tasks. If the task you are doing is too easy, you’ll get bored; if a task is too difficult, you may feel overwhelmed and discouraged to do the task. Therefore you should aim to set tasks that challenging, but not too challenging. Find an optimal goal difficulty for yourself. Ie: don’t set your initial goal to run a marathon if you don’t even regularly exercise/run. Set attainable goals which gradually get more difficult, make your way up. For the marathon example, set your first goal to maybe running a couple km/miles per week, then per day; eventually reaching your final goal to running a marathon when you have the “expertise” or skill in order to accomplish your goal.

Lastly, make sure to have maintain a fair comparison on your achievements. Compare yourself to your past self, not others. It is unfair to compare yourself to others because you have different skill sets/ factors which influence your ability to complete tasks, and all it does is negatively affect your self-esteem. Aim for constructive self-criticism, and try not to be too harsh on yourself! It’s important to maintain a belief in our own abilities so that we can get something done. Emotions direct our behaviour (bad mood=less likely to be motivated/productive) so try to keep a positive outlook on situations/tasks.

Finally

Now, as this post is already long as it is, I’ll try to wrap it up here with a template to help you (if you choose to use it of course) begin your task with a positive and informed outlook surrounding motivation. I really hope this post helps you guys, let me know if does!

Template Link <----

Also i would like to say that most, if not all, the information i used to make this post I got from an awesome Skillshare class by Catrinel Girbovan “Learn How To Motivate Yourself: Master Self-Discipline and Get Things Done”.

So if you have skillshare i highly recommend you check it out for more tips that I didn’t go into depth with because of the length of the post already.

Hope everyone has a good day :)

#motivation #get motivated #advice

75 notes · View notes

doyelikehaggis · 5 years ago

Text

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Barry Allen x Iris West x Leonard Snart (The Flash)

Requested by @wonderdoves

He's not allowed to go anymore. It's all Barry hears in the lecture he gets from Joe when he brings him back from the prison again. Third time this week, he catches, refusing to look at him. Have to stop.

"No," Barry says flatly. And then he's running up the stairs and slamming the door to his bedroom shut. It's not his bedroom. It's just some guest room, currently holding the poor foster kid he had to take in.

True to his word, Barry doesn't stop. He wants to see his dad. He knows he didn't do it, no matter what anyone says. But apparently Joe swayed the prison into not letting Barry visit. Makes a point of telling him as much at breakfast, as if he can sense his plans.

Barry doesn't say a word about it, just eats his cereal in deliberating silence. And as soon as he's done and on the path to school with Iris, he takes a left turn in the wrong direction.

"Barry," Iris says, making him pause to look back at her. Her expression's confused, but her eyes are full of worry. "Where are you going?"

"Anywhere," he says, shrugging. Then he takes off.

He's never exactly been the fastest runner. Still, Iris doesn't try to follow. It's good, he wouldn't want to get her in any trouble. He doesn't care the same for himself.

No one questions the little kid wandering the aisles of a store, no one paying enough attention to see him slipping candy bars and strange little juice things barely the size of his hand into his pocket as he goes. Not when he actually has money to pay for the two things he sets on the counter when he's done.

Then it's back to wandering through the streets of the city, but at least he has chocolate now. It's not what he would like to be doing, but it's better than being at school and abiding by all of the dumb rules they're trying to enforce on him because he's "out of control" according to his teachers, and Joe, even the headmaster.

But around comes lunch and he's bored, so he finds himself slipping through a gap in the fence into the playground. He spots Iris. Alone. She's just sitting on the ground, back against the wall, flipping through homework.

It brings a small smile to his face. Approaching her, he sits down beside her unnoticed until he taps her knee with one finger.

She startles and her head whips up, eyes wide. But then she sees it's him and her features relax. Not too much, he notices; she still seems tense.

"I didn't think you were coming," she says, but her voice gives away that she's glad he did.

He starts to respond, mouth opening, but he's cut off by quick and heavy footfalls rounding the corner they're tucked behind.

A couple of boys. One's who have never liked Barry, and Iris through association. He can already tell that this isn't going to end well by the looks on their faces when they come up short and realize they're there.

In all honesty, Barry doesn't catch much of what happens. He's gotten used to tuning insults out that his brain just sort of automatically does it on its own. But he hears the words "mommy", "dead", and "orphan", and none of them are used with all that much sympathy.

Next thing he knows, he's on his feet and swinging for the closest one. His fist makes contact, hard, and he just keeps going. There's blood, he thinks, but he can't figure out where it's coming from as they end up on the ground.

There are rough hands pulling at his shoulders and he thinks Iris' voice is there somewhere. But all he can focus on is the bubbling anger that's been boiling inside of him for weeks now, at the man who really killed his mom, the police, Joe, even his dad for not fighting to see him.

The other boy isn't fighting back, he registers faintly, his hands pushing at him instead to try and topple him. Then a fist makes contact with the side of his face and he falters, thrown off balance.

It's long enough for them to shove him off. His elbow scrapes off the ground and his head hits it with a thud that makes a dull pain shoot through it. But it doesn't feel so bad. It actually feels good. Even the stinging in his hand.

There are shouts now, deeper, older voices. More footsteps hurrying in their direction.

He tilts his head, catching a glimpse of the boy, being carefully hauled up by his friends. There's dark splotches on the ground, and when Barry manages to look at the boy's face, he finds it covered in red. Blood streaming from his nose, his forehead, his mouth, even the back of his head. And he's crying. Kind of screaming, actually.

Barry feels a hand taking his and he looks to his left. He finds Iris next to him. Holding his hand. His hand that's scraped at the knuckles and covered in someone else's blood.

Her eyes are wide and terrified and shining more than he wants them to ever. But she swallows and just holds his hand a little tighter with a smile. One that says I'm with you. No matter what. Even after that. It makes him feel a little less lost and alone.

Security cameras. How did he forget to avoid the cameras this time? Because he's eleven, and it just didn't really cross his mind.

But they did. Joe has to talk to other police officers because of it. And because of that kid. A broken nose, concussion, and some damage to his mouth. They said he was lucky there was no permanent damage to his eyes as well.

Barry feels a little stir of regret. He just snapped. But the kid started it, and he didn't even want to be at school in the first place. He wanted to see his dad.

Joe's talking to the principal, too. The parents aren't happy. The store owner isn't happy. Barry hears him try to come to his defence; he's eleven, he's a kid, he's traumatised and grieving, he's in pain, he just needs help and support.

Maybe he's right. But Barry doesn't want his help. He doesn't want his support, because he won't give it to him where it matters most. He still doesn't believe him.

This isn't the first time he's been in trouble.

"He's been caught stealing before," the store owner says.

"He's violent and aggressive and is in fights far too frequently," the principal says.

"He's broken school property." "He's damaged store property." "--public property." "Truancy." "Vandalism." "Theft." "Fights." "Hospital."

"Acting out." "Scared." "I can help him."

"Pressing charges." "Needs discipline." "Out of your control." "Just a foster kid."

Barry chews on the inside of his cheek, biting it until he can taste blood. Iris is silent next to him, but he can feel her fear. Not his own. He's not afraid.

"A juvenile detention facility will just teach him a lesson that he needs to learn. It'll be better for him."

The hearing goes through. A couple hours of community service. It could be worse, Joe reasons. Barry doesn’t say anything.

Cleaning graffiti from windows is his punishment. Barry doesn’t entirely think that this is an eleven year old’s job, but apparently complaining about it will only make it worse. Not that he cares either way, but it at least gets him out of that house.

It’s working in silence mostly, the other kids scattered out in the vicinity, doing other jobs. The supervisor is around somewhere, but not close by, fortunately. It’s actually kinda boring. Right up until--

“Psst. Barry.”

He glances around for the source of the familiar voice, and he finds it. Iris’s head, peeking out of an alley on his left. He relaxes, starting to smile, then hesitates.

“What are you doing here, Iris?” he asks, trying his best to sound disinterested, and with real suspicion. A touch of bitterness. “Did your dad send you here to keep an eye on me?”

She looks hurt. “No. I told him I was going to Dinah’s house to study. I just wanted to see you. You’re always in your room.”

Barry softens, and he lets himself smile this time. Iris then glances at the graffiti-ed window and her face scrunches.

“That doesn’t look fun,” she notes. “At all.”

“Wanna give it a go?” he jokes.

Iris scoffs. “And do it all for you? I don’t think so.”

Barry rolls his eyes, but he laughs. A laugh bubble up out of her chest as well, and it makes his heart skip a beat. As if it’s a few months ago, when everything was good and fine. It feels so familiar.

Then his eyes dart off to the side and he catches sight of a group of boys making straight for him, and he knows he’s in for it. Especially since the leading boy has a black eye and bruised face, and his nose looks a little wrong in some way. And he looks pretty intent on revenge.

“Go,” Barry quickly tells Iris, who’s eyes are wide now that she’s spotted them, too. But she shakes her head. “Run, Iris,” he hisses. “Run. Please.”

She listens. He watches her take off out of the alley and down the street. The boys pay her no mind; she’s not the one they want. Unfortunately for him, he can’t even run away this time unless he wants more hours of service.

Barry swallows, but stays where he is, tilting his head up. A bad move, he decides, because suddenly the kid’s on him and he’s just given him access to land a blow on his jaw.

It hurts. A lot. It throws him enough that he doesn’t have time to react before the boy’s throwing another punch, straight to his stomach this time. It winds him and he doubles over. Then it’s punch after punch, the sharp kick of a shoe. He doesn’t try and fight back.

The numb pain is actually soothing. Like all of the turmoil, the anger that’s been boiling like a brewing storm thundering inside of him, it’s all draining out of him with each blow.

His head’s starting to feel like it’s detaching from the rest of him and sitting up high on a cloud when there’s a shout. For a moment, he thinks it’s just from one of the boys, probably mistaking a laugh.

“Get out of here unless you want me to show you how this pocket knife works,” an unfamiliar voice says, strangely calm, but low in a dangerous way. “Or I can just get my buddy to light you up. How do you like the sound of feeling your skin sizzling and peeling off your bones until you’re just a puddle of flesh?”

The blows stop coming. Barry faintly catches the sound of hurried footsteps, now running in the opposite direction. Someone actually scared them off, he thinks in disbelief. That’s a first.

He cracks his eyes open, and it feels like an effort for at least one of them. A boy comes into sight above him, standing over him. His expression matches his voice. Calm, but something dangerous in the cold, glinting eyes. Like ice.

But he reaches a hand out to him. Barry gingerly takes it, and finds himself faced with Iris appearing at the mystery boy’s side. She’s crying.

“Your girl ran into me, and she was a mess, so.” The boy waves a hand like it’s a good enough explanation for a question that wasn’t asked. He eyes him, then the window. “Ah. You’re the new kid, right?”

Barry’s eyebrows furrow, his attention divided between taking Iris’ hand to reassure her he’s okay. “Uh, new to...to...?”

“The legal system. Juvie.”

The boy raises an amused eyebrow at him. Barry’s finally able to register details about him and notices that he must be a couple of years older, maybe thirteen, fourteen. Probably why the boys ran off. That, and the good few inches he has on all of them, not to mention the threat of a pocket knife that Barry can’t help but glance at his pockets for any sign of now. Just in case.

Barry just stays quiet.

“Thank you for helping...” Iris steps up, raising her chin. She trails off pointedly.

The boy stares for a moment. His eyes that Barry are realizing aren’t just cold like ice, but are the colour of it as well, flick between them. Then a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Snart,” he answers her silent prompting. “First name’s Leonard, but call me that and I will shiv you. Don’t have to be in juvie to carry one on you.”

Iris’ hand tenses in Barry’s, and admittedly he’s a little intimidated. But then Iris laughs. He glances at her like she’s out of her mind, but the pain in his head must be getting to him, because a slight chuckle escapes him as well.

“Noted,” Barry says.

“Does that mean that people call you Leo?” Iris asks, and she’s teasing. She is teasing the older boy who just threatened a group of kids with a pocket knife and clearly knows his way around the legal system better than them. “Or is it just Snart?”

“No one calls me Leo,” he answers coolly, but there’s a quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Besides, I highly doubt I’ll be seeing either of you again. No need to be on an any name basis.”

He turns his stare back to Barry, and something about his expression tells him that his own face isn’t looking so good right now. He winces for him, actually looking almost sympathetic.

“Piece of advice for you, kid,” he says, “run away next time. Or find yourself someone to look out for you. That’s what I did, and I’m still alive.”

He then turns and walks away. Finally, he pulls his other hand out of his pocket, flipping a knife between his fingers like it’s a game.

Iris tugs on his hand, bringing his attention back to her concerned gaze, her hand gently reaching up to his face but not quite touching.

“Come on, we need to do something about this,” she says, and she makes him abandon his window in favour of finding the supervisor.

Barry’s community service is due to end, but apparently skipping out on doing it only lengthens the punishment. He’s sure that stealing a couple more things from a store probably didn’t help.

Breaking the rules of his community service, they say to Joe. Needs more extreme measures. Isn’t learning anything. Not enough discipline. Barry could already feel what was coming.

His community service doesn’t extend, but becomes a two-week sentence to a juvenile detention facility. Joe tried to fight that, too, but he seems wearier. More hopeless. Like he’s slowly realizing that nothing he’s doing is working on him.

And he hasn’t exactly been too happy about Iris hanging out with him when he’s skipping his hours. Or accepting half a stolen chocolate bar from him, waiting around the corner. Barry doesn’t see the problem. That doesn’t seem to help.

So, when the sentence is given, there isn’t as much of a fight. From Iris, there is, but Barry shrugs it off and says it’s fine. He’s only been at the facility a couple of hours, but it doesn’t feel so bad. There’s a room, and food.

And it’s boring.

Then, at last, he gets a sliver of hope that these two weeks aren’t going to be as dull and torturous as they seem. He spots Snart across the room, sat on a table, in conversation with a slightly taller, slightly older, even more intimidating boy.

It’s probably a huge risk to just approach someone in juvie, Barry thinks. So, he does exactly that. Walks right over to them, practically unnoticed by mostly everyone else as one of the smallest people in the facility.

“Hey,” Barry says when he reaches them.

Snart keeps talking, as if he hadn’t heard him. The older boy doesn’t show much acknowledgement either.

Barry considers tapping Snart to get his attention, then remembers the pocket knife, the threat, and just the overall general unspoken rule of not touching anyone in juvie if you want to keep your hands.

He tries again, addressing Snart this time. It works. Snart stops talking, his eyes sliding to him, sharp and like a cat’s narrowing. Recognition flickers in them.

“Beat it, pipsqueak,” the older boy next to him grunts out, menace flashing in his eyes. He doesn’t have the same cold glint, but it’s still harsh, but more blazing, like burning flames rather than ice.

“Well, well,” Snart says, ignoring his friend’s comment. That same slow smile is curving his mouth as he seizes Barry up with subtle disbelief. “Proved me wrong. Tell me you and that girl didn’t get yourself thrown in here for fun.”

Barry chuckles, but shakes his head. “No."

“You know this kid?” his friend asks in confusion.

Snart shrugs, a tilt of his head. “Stopped a couple of kids from killing him during community service a few weeks ago.” He turns his head, smirking at his friend. “Sound familiar, Mickey?”

His friend grunts again, clearly displeased. “It’s Mick. I’ve told you to cut that out or I’ll shiv you myself, Lenny,” he shoots back, and Snart glares.

Mick then looks back at Barry. He doesn’t seem any more eager to have him standing there, but he doesn’t protest as much anymore.

“What’d you do, kid?” he asks. “Set something on fire? Rob a bank?”

“I’m eleven,” Barry says in confusion. “How would I rob a bank?”

Mick shrugs. “Easy. Just--”

“Just, answer the question,” Snart cuts him off, tone somewhat gentle, but sending an exasperated look Mick’s way. He turns back to Barry. “What’d you do?”

“Just stole some stuff,” Barry says flippantly, brushing it off. He pauses. “And... I sort of vandalised a cop car.”

Both of them light up, interested. Mick laughs, and Snart looks fairly impressed.

“All right,” he says, nodding, then throws a glance around, “and, uh, your girl?”

“Iris isn’t here. Just me.”

Barry can’t help but notice the flicker in Snart’s expression when he mentions Iris’ absence, almost as if he’s disappointed.

“Does just me have a name or am I gonna have to keep calling you pipsqueak?” Mick asks.

“Oh, it’s Barry,” he answers.

Mick’s eyebrows draw together. “That short for something?”

He’s clearly asking for a reason. One that Barry is not going to give him to him considering the nicknames he’s sure he probably already uses on Snart.

“Nope,” he says, shaking his head. “Just Barry.”

The answer’s accepted without question.

“Alright then,” Mick says. “I’m Mick, and that’s Len. Though, personally, I recommend you call him Leonard. He loves it.”

“You do remember that you have to share a room with me, right?” Snart asks him, the implications clearly there. “You really want to be pushing that one knowing that?”

Mick glares, looking like he very much wants to. But he doesn’t. He presses his lips together and breathes a sigh out through his nose, but says nothing else on the matter. A wise decision by the sounds of it.

“Okay,” Barry says, grinning. “Got it. Guess we’re on an any-name basis, then.”

Snart--or Len, Barry decides--catches his eyes with a knowing look. He’s smiling, almost secretive about it. Then he’s rolling his eyes but motioning for Barry to join him on the otherwise empty table. He does, and Mick starts talking again about something or other. Juvie could be worse, Barry decides.

Visitation isn’t like it is in the proper prison. Instead of being separated by panels of glass and having to talk through a phone, there’s a room filled with soft chairs and two-seated couches in four rows with a table in between each seat.

Barry sits across from Joe and Iris. Joe keeps looking around like he’s unsure about something, questioning, searching. Barry just focuses on Iris the entire time. They talk, they laugh, it’s surprisingly nice. Then again, every moment with Iris is usually.

When Joe excuses himself for just a second to go and talk to one of the guards, or whatever reason he gives that Barry doesn’t listen to, he feels someone drop down beside him on the couch. Iris’ eyes widen.

“Was wondering when we’d finally meet again,” Len says.

Barry rolls his eyes, but turns to him, shoving his arm. “You’re not allowed to be here. Isn’t Lisa missing you over there?”

“She’s talking to Mick,” Len says, as if that’s practically the same thing.

“Wait, you’re in here, too?” Iris blurts out, over her inital shock already. She then aims a light kick at Barry’s foot beneath the table. “You didn’t mention him!”

Barry starts to open his mouth, but Len’s beating him to it, feigning a gasp.

“You didn’t mention me yet?” he asks. “I’m hurt, Barry, truly.”

“I haven’t had a chance!” Barry says in his defence, and quickly waves a hand between the two of them. “Iris, this is Len, Len, this is Iris. There. Happy?”

Iris quirks an eyebrow as Len suppresses an amused smirk.

“So dramatic,” Len jokes, addressing Iris with a shake of his head.

She nods back, her laughter kept in her mouth, even as she says, “He always has been. I don’t think he can help it, but I’ve gotten used to it, and it’s now one of the reasons I love him.”

Barry’s heart jumps. Love. It means a lot of different things, he reasons, but his heart still grows and beats a little stronger when he catches her eyes and she smiles that cute, happy little smile at him.

“Yeah, I can see why,” Len agrees softly. Then, when Barry looks at him in surprise, he rolls his eyes and gives his knee a nudge with his foot. “Though you’ve been a real pain since you got here. Honestly, can you go one day without getting in trouble?”

Barry grins. “But where would the fun in that be?”

“All right, I’ve been leaving you with Mick for too long, you’re gonna start setting fire to things soon.” Len turns to Iris. “Would you be willing to commit a minor offense to get thrown in here and take him off my hands? I’m going to go crazy.”

Iris laughs now and she shakes her head. “Sorry, boys, but I plan on staying out of here if possible. I’m not so easy to corrupt.”

Len’s eyes narrow, but the smile stays on his face. Sly, secretive, curious.

“Perhaps,” he says. “Or maybe you just need to see that there’s fun to be had in a little corruption. It’s not all bad.”

“You’re in juvie,” Iris says blankly, raising an eyebrow.

Spreading his arms around them, one on the back of the couch, Len replies, “And it’s not so bad. We’re having fun, aren’t we? I’m just saying.”

“Do not get yourself thrown in here,” Barry says to her, laughing. “This is enough. Seriously. I’ll be out before you know it.”

Joe starts to come back over, and Len makes his exit. He only lingers long enough to wave a goodbye to Iris with a wink and promise Barry he’ll see him later before he hops back over the couches, settling back down beside Mick across from a girl about the same age as Barry and Iris, and an old man.

So, Barry was a little bit off when he said he would be out in no time. He accidentally gets into a fight, and his sentence is lengthened by a couple more weeks. And it kind of just keeps happening. It’s not intentional, obviously. But he will admit that juvie isn’t all that bad. He has Len, and even Mick.

Time just passes. It doesn’t even really feel like it’s been a year and a half. But it has. And as the months have gone on, Joe’s grown more reluctant to let Iris visit. He says it’s affecting her. Making her distant and constantly worried about him, finding it hard to concentrate in school. Acting out.

Of course, he says none of it to Barry’s face, but he overhears him saying it to his probation officer. When asked why he thought it was better if she visited less when it clearly makes both of them happy. But Joe’s firm. He stops Iris from coming. So, Barry eventually refuses to see him, too.

He’s a little more miserable, to be honest. But Len’s there, cheering him up, at least. Mick’s... well, Mick.

But Barry’s probation officer talked to him a couple of weeks ago, bringing a little bit of news. Bad in their eyes, of course, but very good in his.

He’s not allowed to see Iris the day she’s brought in, letting her get settled into her room first. Just down the hall from him. Apparently juvie in Central City doesn’t care about separation.

But the next day, when they’re forced to go to class, he finally sees her and takes the seat right next to her. She lights up right away.

“Really, Iris?” he asks jokingly. “I know you missed me, but Len was kidding when he said you should join us.”

“No I wasn’t,” Len says from the seat behind him with a grin, shaking his head.

Iris smiles. Something that people wouldn’t expect from someone on their first day in a juvenile detention facility.

She shrugs. “What can I say? You made it sound fun.”

“What did you even do?” Barry asks, leaning across in his seat. He catches Len doing the same, shifting just a little, his curiosity obviously piqued as well.

“I was just skipping too many days of school...” she says, fiddling idly with a pen, “...stealing too much from the same store...but in my defence...I missed the chocolate you kept stealing for me, and it’s really not as much fun without you.”

Barry grins. “So, what you’re saying is, you missed me.”

“Maybe,” she says, rolling her eyes. She then points a thumb back at Len, adding, “But it’s his fault, too. If he hadn’t interrupted every one of our visits just to tell me what you guys have been up to, I wouldn’t have felt like I missing out. Or like I should be rescuing one of your from the other. Still haven’t decided which one needs it more.”

Barry scoffs, but Len’s smirking, a happy glint in his eyes. It’s a rare sight, one that Barry sees now and again. It’s how imagines he must look when he gets that heart-skipping feeling around Iris.

“Definitely me,” Len drawls. “I’m going out of my mind, Iris. Mick’ll agree with me, won’t you, Mickey?”

Mick groans from two seats in front of Iris, turning to look back at them over the empty one between them. “Stop dragging me into this. I’m tired. And I don’t care. Kill each other, please.”

Iris raises her eyebrows and looks at the two of them. But they both laugh and just wave it off as Mick slumps in his seat, his arms crossing.

“You’ll get used to him, if you stay long enough,” Len says. “He grows on you. Eventually. As do I.”

“Eh, he’s alright,” Barry says when Iris looks just at him.

“Rude.”

Barry leans back in his seat, grinning at him upside down.

“Kidding.”

Len’s eyes narrow. Barry had once thought they looked like cold, harsh ice. Dangerous and terrifying. They still kind of do, as does Len in general. But it’s like a softer ice now, in the middle of melting but not quite there. But slowly getting there.

“So, Iris,” Len turns back to her, a mischievous look replacing the feigned glare, “tell me, do you like heists? Because, you definitely need to for this to work. Barry, Mick, and I are already planning our future for once we get out of here, and there are many heists involved. Are you in?”

“So much for subtle,” Mick mutters. Len ignores.

Barry shrugs helplessly when Iris shoots him a questioning, almost disbelievingly amused look. They’ve talked about a couple of heists. Jokes. Maybe. The ideas aren’t so bad, and at this point, Barry isn’t sure what his future’s looking like. Maybe bank robber is his destiny. Hell, maybe they could break into Iron Heights and get his dad out.

A genuinely thoughtful look crosses Iris’ face as she hums in consideration.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” she admits. “How high are our chances of being caught? Because, my dad’s a cop, and I really don’t think it would be good if he caught us.”

“Not to worry about that,” Len says. “I always have a plan.”

Iris takes another moment, pausing. “All right. If it’s a good enough plan, and if Barry’s in, then sure.”

“I’m in,” Barry says, grinning. “Let’s rob a bank.”

“Why does stealing from the CCPD seem like our dumbest idea yet?” Barry whispers, but he keeps walking, careful not to make a noise in the deserted hallway.

He glances at his watch. Seven minutes left. He can make it in and out in seven minutes. As long as he’s fast. He can do fast.

“It’ll be fine,” Len assures him through the comms, his voice that soothing calm. “Just get to the lab. You remember where it is, right?”

“Yeah.” Barry turns the corner and spots the big sliding doors. “Right here. Okay, so, I go in and--”

“And you find the evidence,” Iris finishes for him, confirming. “They can’t afford to pull any of our fingerprints, or hair, or just any DNA off of it. Grab whatever they have on us, then get the hell out. My dad’s going to be there in six minutes, forty-three seconds.”

“Okay. Got it.”

Barry reaches up, flipping the little switch on the side of his goggles. Everything quickly turns shades of blue and orange and yellow. No red. No human heat signatures nearby, and none in the lab.

He slides the door open and walks in, flipping the switch back. Setting the gun in his hand down on the nearest surface, he quickly looks around the lab. It’s immaculate, not a thing out of place.

“Thank you, Mr. Albert,” he mutters under his breath. Makes his life a hell of a lot easier if he’s not having to rifle through a mess of papers and other pieces of evidence.

Instead, it only takes him thirteen seconds to locate exactly what he’s looking for, and another sixteen to carefully pull the evidence from the machine mid-test. Thirty-two to find the file, swipe it, and stuff it in his bag, which he keeps away from all surfaces. Eleven to grab the two other items of evidence they have against them, and then twenty-four to delete the digital file and the half-run tests. Not a single thing left to indicate there was even a case in the first place.

Stepping back, he closes up his bag, grabs his gun, then makes back for the door. “Okay, we’re all good here.”

“Wait, Barry, see if you can find the evidence from the Laurdon case as well,” Iris says.

“Good idea,” he says, quickly recalling their uncertainty over whether or not they had accidentally dropped something at the scene.

He backtracks, heading back over to the case files. There’s a flash of light from the corner of his eye and he glances over at the windows. Probably just lightning, he reasons, or some part of the launch tonight. The particle accelerator finally being turned on gave them the perfect opportunity to clear their tracks since nearly everyone is over at S.T.A.R. Labs to watch it.

Finding the file, he flips through it. One bit of evidence, still being processed.

Barry sets the file back and quickly moves over to the shelves. It said something about a chemical test that he remembers trying out a good few years ago. It’s just a matter of finding the right one.

Fortunately, it’s not so hard. He grins, triumphant as he spots the beaker up on the second highest shelf, filled with a red liquid and a tiny strip of fabric.

He reaches for it when there’s another flash outside, brighter this time. For a brief moment when he looks back at the windows, he thinks he was right in it being a storm. But then he takes in what he’s seeing. The lightning isn’t coming from the sky. It is, but it’s like it’s being controlled by some beam shooting up into the sky right from S.T.A.R. Labs.

Confused, he takes a step towards the window, then falters, glancing back at the shelf. The air feels like it’s filled with static. That’s not a good sign.

“Barry?” Iris’ voice asks.

He’s going to respond. But his eyes fix back on S.T.A.R. Labs just as something happens. He can’t even explain what; a surge of powers, but accompanied by a bright light, shooting out from the building and sweeping all over the city. Coming straight towards him.

His eyes widen, but when it hits, he just feels the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. The lights go out. Every light, not a single dot within the whole expanse of Central City.

“Barry? What the hell was that?” Iris asks, alarm in her voice now. They felt it, too.

“Barry,” Len says sharply. “Answer.”

“I--I don’t know,” Barry says. “Something must have gone wrong with the particle accelerator, I think. There was like this power surge, and lightning, and--”

Thunder rumbles overhead. Right above him, actually. Far too close to be safe, especially when he still feels like he’s just stuck a knife in a toaster.

“I’m leaving,” he says.

He moves to make good on that, but stops short at rain pouring into the room. His eyes flick up and find a hatch in the roof. Open, of course. CCPD really has some geniuses on its payroll.

Ignoring it, he moves to head for the doors. But as soon as he steps beneath the hatch, he can feel the shift in the air. The dread and panic already creeping up his spine, latching its claws into his shoulder. The taste of something metallic fills his mouth.

He barely has time to lift his eyes back to the sky to see the bolt of lightning come straight down. It strikes him, and he’s aware, somewhere, of his body being thrown across the room by it. Of his back hitting something hard and metal, of things crashing down around him, and a burning beneath his skin and on it, like acid seeping through into his veins while he’s set alight.

Speeding straight through the doors, Barry then skids to a halt and quickly slides it shut. When he turns around, he’s met with raised eyebrows and pointed looks that he’s all too familiar with.

“Damn it,” he groans, feeling the burn in his shoulder now.

He whips his shirt off, throwing it to the stone floor to stamp the flames out.

“He’ll learn eventually,” Len says wryly, voice coated in sarcasm.

Iris grins from her comfortable position in his lap, legs stretched out across the couch. “It’s been a year.”

Barry groans again, saying, “It’s hard, all right? You don’t know, it’s easy to forget that I can just--accidentally set myself on fire because I ran too fast!”

“I’ve accidentally set myself on fire,” Mick says, and Barry nearly startles, finding him sitting at a table in the corner of the room, drinking a beer. “Wasn’t pretty.”

The room falls silent at that. Barry just looks over at Len and Iris, and they all have a similar thought process of just let it be. It’s Mick. They’ve been used to it since juvie.

“Alright then,” Barry mutters. Then, clearing his throat and in a more audible voice, says, “But anyway. Thought you’d like to know that I got it.”

Iris’ eyes widen, and she perks up, head lifting. Len’s expression isn’t quite as expressive; it never is, but Barry can see the glimmer in his eyes, the spark that comes alive.

“You got it?” Iris asks. “As in, it?”

Barry grins and produces the little leather pouch from his pocket. He holds it up and now they’re definitely both brimming with excitement and amazement, all knowing what’s inside. Even Mick is eyeing it with interest.

“I got it,” Barry says again. He shrugs. “Perks of being a speedster, I guess. Some geniuses they are. S.T.A.R. Labs didn’t even have any alarms in place. I went straight in by them and straight back out with it.”

He crosses over to them and tosses the pouch for Iris to catch, which she does with both hands perfectly. In return, she briefly moves her legs to let him drop onto the couch before she throws them back over his lap.

“Does it work?” Len asks, glancing at him.

Iris is already pulling the strings to open it and tipping it upside down. A triangular device tumbles onto into her lap.

“Don’t know.” Barry shrugs, spreading his arm over the top of the couch. “I haven’t tried it out. I was obviously waiting to get back here to you guys for that.”

Len smiles a little. Then all eyes are back on the device, now between Iris’ fingers as she turns it over slowly, careful. It’s grey and blue and definitely looks like what he was expecting. If he was to build one, it would pretty much be the same.

“If this works, you realize we can go anywhere we want now, right?” Iris says, voice as full of excitement as she seems, looking at the two of them. “Any planet. A different universe, even.”

“So many banks to rob, so many heists,” Len says dreamily, almost mocking.

She shoots him a look and presses her lips together in a smile. “Seriously, though. If this extrapolator is the real deal...”

“Would be pretty cool,” Barry agrees. “So. Let’s test it out.”

Iris holds it out, aiming at the empty space in front of the couch. She hits the centre with her thumb, and it shoots out a small beam of light that quickly expands, becoming a huge glowing blue circle in the middle of the room.

They all stare in awe, even Mick, his mouth hanging open with his beer halfway to it. Barry breathes out in disbelief, then shakes his head and turns to Iris and Len.

“The universe awaits then, I suppose.”

#the flash #barry allen #iris west #leonard snart #coldwestallen #barry x iris x snart #theflashedit #moodboard #aesthetic #fanfiction #the flash au #rowing the rarepair rowboat #myedit*#OKAY SO UM #I GOT A BIT OUT OF HAND #SOMEONE SHOULD DEFINTIELY HAVE STOPPED ME #wonderdoves

40 notes · View notes

eatsockss · 5 years ago

Text

Irondad and SteveTony Fic Recs!!

I decided to do a fic rec list bc i always see them and am So Grateful for them, esp rn bc everybody’s quarantined so what else is there to do but read fanfic. these are some of my favorite fics/some of the fics I read recently and just have open in safari rn. they’re mostly angst or whump ngl bc that’s my favorite but,,,, enjoy!

Irondad

ever in your favor by @iron--spider

Summary: Peter startles awake when someone shakes him. “Sorry, honey,” May says. Peter blinks a couple times and she comes into focus, her hair pulled back from her face. She’s trying not to look a certain way, but he can see it in her eyes anyway. She clears her throat, keeps talking. “But it’s…” She glances away, wets her lips. “You gotta get ready.” He remembers what day it is, and his heart beats like a drum at someone’s execution. But he tries to put on a mask, make it all seem normal. It’s everything but, despite the fact that he’s been dealing with reaping day since he was born, between himself, Ben and May. That fear that one of them could be taken away. Sent to surefire slaughter. But now Ben is gone, taken despite never having his name drawn from a bowl, and May’s finally safe. Now Peter’s name is in there alone. The last Parker sitting on the chopping block. He doesn’t know how to be. He doesn’t know what normal is, when the Hunger Games are looming on the horizon.

Note: this is probably my favorite ever irondad fic so like ,,, ummm ,,, Please read this

lay your weary head to rest by @the-great-escapism

Summary: “Please.” He means to say it loudly, with confidence, but it comes out as nothing more than a raspy whisper. His ears are ringing painfully, and his head feels like it’s going to explode. It hurts and hurts and hurts. “M-May,” Peter cries out to no one, feeling like a child. “Tony. Please, ‘m so tired.” He inhales and chokes on his tears. He can’t tell if it’s his imagination or not, but he’s pretty sure he hears a laugh. In which Peter gets kidnapped, and that's not even the worst part. The worst part is he's not allowed to sleep.

Priorities by JLMonroe1234

Summary: Tony had been in the cave for a month. Waiting. Planning. Healing. Biding his time until his creation would be ready and durable enough to get him home. With Yinsen's help and Tony's expertise, he would save them both. But when an injured teenager is brought into the mix, Tony must reevaluate his priorities and decide what's more important; a speedy escape, or rescuing the boy with the spider tattoo?

Return to Normal by Singing_Sirens

Summary: On his first day back, he didn’t expect the stares. Well, he expected some stares, but he didn’t think the entire hallway would just… stop. But that’s what they did. They froze, jaws hanging open, eyes wide, as he lowered his head and curled in on himself. He pushed through the attention. He set his jaw and marched forward, because he had been through worse in the last year.

Patient by alifetime

Summary: Just because Tony has retired as an Avenger, does not mean he still doesn’t have a business to run with Pepper. Since both his oldest children cannot always babysit for Morgan, he hires a babysitter. Harley didn’t really know what to think of the babysitter, and always kept a protective eye on Morgan. But she had told him that Skip was nice. She always seems to be smiling and happy whenever Skip comes to stay. It didn’t filter his concern. So when he goes college, he demands that Peter keeps an eye on him. Peter liked Skip. Until he didn’t. However, he will do anything to keep his brother and sister safe.

Identity Theft by KitCat992

Summary: It's been months since the events of Civil War, and the Avengers are doing their best to remain a team, having promised to forgive and forget. Unfortunately for them, Tony Stark's latest invention has been stolen and recovering it causes tension to reappear. Meanwhile, in Queens, Peter Parker has two main priorities on his plate — complete his midterm finals, and track down a fishbowl wearing criminal that may or may not lead him right into the hands of the Avengers. Somehow between all of this, Spider-man's identity is revealed to the Avengers, Steve and Tony's friendship may permanently be damaged due to continued hidden secrets, and Happy struggles to buy a youth-sized casket for Peter's funeral. Things were a lot easier when they were fighting over Bucky Barnes. (Or: The Avengers welcome Peter into their crazy superhero family and will do anything to protect him.) Shameless Peter whump and Protective Tony Stark.

the second law of thermodynamics by fourleafchloe

Summary: It happens the same way it always does. (It's just discipline. It's not that bad. It's fine, Peter is fine, he'll be fine--) Except he really isn't fine, and Tony knows something's up, and Peter's house of cards is falling apart, and so the story goes. — separate from other fics in the series. a recovery story full of soft irondad, found families, and (eventually) tons of fluff.

Note: this is part of a series of separate irondad fics, each one of them is incredible, so go check out this entire series.

how can the body die? (you tell me, everything) by @madasthesea

Summary: Tony felt panic creep up his spine. Something was occurring to him, slowly percolating in the back of his mind. “You said the stinger got you. Is Scorpion’s stinger venomous?” “I don’t—” Peter cut off as he groaned, the muscles in his jaw tight. “I don’t know. He upgraded—he was faster. Bigger. I—I thought I could beat him.”

oh, darling. by luna_e_stelle

Summary: "Peter?" Tony’s voice wavered with an urgency that cut through the thick haze in Peter’s mind. There was so much emotion in that one word that Peter wondered how he had ever doubted that Tony loved him. They had never said it out loud, just showed it in a way that spoke louder than words ever could. — Peter is taken, and he tries to find his way back home.

whumptober series by @iron--spider

Summary: 10 fics that fulfill whumptober prompts (i could many choose one so just go read the whole series)

Pieces of Echoes by @geekymoviemom

Summary: this is like a rewrite of the MCU integrating most of the storylines So Seamlessly with SuperFamily. Amazing series.

uneasy lies the head by @tnyystark

Summary: Two thoughts come to Peter, both at a breakneck speed he can barely handle. One: the world now thinks he is responsible for the attack in London. And Prague. And Venice. And the murder - murder; as if the man is really dead; as if the universe is kind enough to let that happen - of Mysterio. And two: the world now knows who he is.

Long Shadows by Black_Briar

Summary: Peter comes into contact with a foreign substance on a mission, and things only get worse from there.

I’ll Be Your Home (Forever and Always) by ScarletPotter

Summary: Peter didn't plan on being kidnapped, it all just sorta, maybe, happened? Peter was on his way to meet Ned when suddenly everything goes dark. When he wakes up he's restrained to a table and a man introduces himself to be Quentin Beck, and that he's going to kill him.

god did not craft us as alters, but as dying gods by helloitisafellowgay

Summary: Peter Parker is not immune to trauma. Far from it, in fact. (With great power comes great responsibility, Peter.) So when the building collapses, when the dilapidated remains of metal and concrete, and later searing scraps of plane, fall around him? Well, this is practically nothing. Practically. He’s fine, really. It just gets a little hard to breathe sometimes. Like, when he follows Happy into Stark Tower through the parking garage. Or when he turns on the news while doing homework and sees reports of a plane crash. And sure, the small fire that broke out in the chemistry lab had sent his heart racing and caused sweat to bead on the back of his neck until even Ned asked if he was okay, but it’s nothing to worry about. Regardless, he knows where those come from. But this? In which Skip Westcott is a repressed memory, until he returns.

Note: favorite fic title!

Stony

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast by @kapteniron

Summary: Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual. He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either. What is unusual is that the stranger is silent. (One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Forever Linked by ashes0909 and athletiger

Summary: Before the door even clicked shut, he opened his mouth to let the pink petals flutter to the ground. In the center of all this mess was a single rose, not yet bloomed, but Tony knew, deep down, what this meant. But they were only teammates for sure; nothing else will go further. — “You have Hanahaki?” she asked, barely more than a whisper. He fisted out the petal from his pocket and held it out to her. “If that’s what would cause this to come out of my throat.”

Steve Rogers’ Guide to Wooing Tony Stark by Tonks22

Summary: Steve tries to woo Tony. Steve is not very good at it. Tony is oblivious.

Blue Lips, Blue Veins by @romanoff

Summary: Tony Stark is Iron Man. Before that, he was an man with bigger heart than brain. Before that, he was an asshole with a bigger mouth than sense. And before that, he was was a scared little boy. Not that it matters. Stark's always have had iron in their backbone.

Note: this is more of a character study of Tony Stark but it’s Incredible. Cannot recommend this enough.

The Butterfly Effect by @itsallavengers

Summary: While fighting with Loki, Steve Rogers from 2012 hears the two simple words: "Bucky's alive." And the whole universe ripples with the aftershocks.

Going Steady by @itsallavengers

Summary: Steve has a soft spot for the sound of Tony's heart

Hide A Heart Of War by RayShippouUchiha

Summary: “You’ve got war in your heart boy,” Howard sneers, “don’t ever try and pretend to be anything but what you are.” Tony feels the familiar burn of a flower mark being etched into his skin but he doesn’t look, doesn’t try and check to see what it is. Instead he keeps his eyes on Howard and his hands cupped around his bleeding mouth and nose.

Note: this is technically Stuckony but,,, it’s rly good so it’s going on the list.

Assorted

a primer for the small weird loves by babyloveparkner

Summary: “What are you—?” “Hold on,” Peter says, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as the pen moves across the page. He rips out another page, then seems to grow frustrated and just opens up his notebook to start writing in it rather than stealing pages out of it. Harley feels stuck, flabbergasted and frozen, and he doesn’t know how long he sits there and watches before Peter lets out a huff and finally leans back, satisfaction in his eyes as he hands it all to Harley, all the scribbled writing and torn pages. “Read these.” Harley blinks once, slow, as he takes the offered notebook with the ripped out papers on top. “What…?” And Peter just smiles and shrugs. “They’re poems,” he says. “I looked some up, wrote down the good parts. Maybe those’ll give you that hopeful feeling that you were looking for.” or: harley runs from a homophobic town and finds solace in poetry and peter parker

the spider-man conspiracy by @tempestaurora

Summary: WHO IS SPIDER-MAN? The screen showed Peter Parker, sixteen years old and determined to prove the identity of Spider-Man over the course of the three-part documentary he was making, unknowing that it would become viral within days of the first part being released. Behind the camera, way off screen, was Harley Keener, Tony Stark’s other prodigy child, grinning like crazy as Peter started the documentary. Only a few people knew what was to come, and those few people were about to have a great few weeks. “My name is Peter Parker, and with the help of my friends, Ned Leeds, Harley Keener, and my Aunt, May Parker, who provided me with a lot of red yarn for this project, we’re going to uncover the identity of Spider-Man.” OR "what if peter just decided to fuck with everyone who didn’t know he was spider man and make a documentary about him trying to uncover the Truth."

5 times Tony kissed Rhodey and the one time Rhodey kissed back by lomku

Summary: Exactly what it says in the title.

Note: I wish I had more Ironhusband fics to rec bc i love them but they aren’t as abundant as Stony fics and the ones i’ve read most recently are Stony.

#fic rec #fic rec list #irondad fics #spiderman fics #stevetony fic #spiderman #spiderman whump #peter parker #iron dad angst #tony stark #iron man #iron husbands #stuckony #stony #stony fic #marvel #mcu fic #mcu

28 notes · View notes

doctorjeremyxvandamme · 4 years ago

Text

“Yesterday, upon the stair, / I met a man who wasn't t h e r e! / He wasn't there again today. / Oh how I wish he'd go away!”

Below the cut, you can find Jeremy’s basic info, key story points, full bio, and a handful of possible connections, although I am open to most plots! Triggers include death mentions, blood mentions, and a handful of horror elements. Please do feel free to reach out if I can provide context without mention of those topics.

basics

Name: Dr. Jeremy van Damme

Gender/Pronouns: Cismale | He/Him

Date of Birth: January 22, 1981

Age: 39

Hometown: Jersey City, NJ

Length of time in Crescent Harbor: 5 Years

Neighborhood: Hemlock Docks

Occupation: Professor of Anthropology at Crescent College

Faceclaim: Matthias Schoenaerts

key points

An only child, the son of a Belgian-born painter of some renown, but primarily among art types with an interest in niche work

Has a doctorate in anthropology from New York University and now teaches the discipline at Crescent College. Completed his undergrad education in Washington

Devotes most of his research to modern folklore, urban legends, and what he calls ritualistic play: games like Bloody Mary or Charlie Charlie, the latest variation of Juego de la Lapicera, meant to summon something, communicate with something, or achieve specific ends through strict adherence to pre-determined rules or conditions

A history buff. Knows much about the origins of Crescent Harbor and is now actively involved in historical preservation efforts. His interests encompass the periods both prior to and following the actual founding of the town.

Something of a pack-rat. Collects oddities and antiques and allows visitors to poke around his overcrowded house.

full bio (tw: death, blood, horror elements)

If he angled his neck just right, face pressed against the glass, held there by tiny, marker-covered hands, he could just barely see the monster from his bedroom window. The gangling, wide-eyed thing, all teeth and blackened pupils, was caught in an eternal snarl by the glint of the corner street lamp (which had been broken for some time and blinked erratically every few minutes). The light has stay on because the light keeps it there, he would think. So long as the light stays on, it has to stay there and cannot come here. For as long as the boy could remember, though, this massive graffiti creature, the handiwork of some unknown artist or another, had been spray-painted there, overseeing its domain from the red brick facade of an already defunct paper packaging warehouse. And it certainly had not escaped yet. But this particular piece of street art had long frightened the young Jeremy van Damme, who would spend his nights watching it from the safety of his heightened perch.

At that time, he lived with his father (a native of Flanders and painter of some niche surrealist renown) and mother (a full-time college dean and part-time muse to her artiste husband) in a tall brown apartment building that swayed with the wind. The groaning of the foundation, the creaking of the pipes, and the unpleasant damp sweetness, an almost bloody smell, that occasionally wafted out an uncovered vent after a storm, instilled in the boy an early sense of fantastic terror. More often than not, Jeremy van Damme was afraid. At the age of six, he discovered in a forgotten photo album a picture of himself he could not recall taking. And there, he abruptly decided some other Jeremy, a doppelganger or double or mimic, not only existed, but was waiting for the opportunity to strike and swallow him whole. At the age of seven, he got it into his head that a family of venomous lizards had taken up residence in the basement washing machine; he could hear them hissing if he listened closely. And at the age of eight, the death of the elderly woman down the hall gave birth to a new series of existential horrors, of the terrible uncertainty of the afterlife, of restless ghosts, and of white-haired specters that stalked hallways by night in search of little boys to do whatever it is ghosts do.

Nevertheless, the apartment was not vacant for long, and in the weeks that followed, Jeremy struck up a new friendship with a girl his age who had moved into the building with her family. And with how cheery they had painted the place, one could almost forget what happened to poor old Mrs. Hansen there. It was through this new companion, however, that Jeremy himself, albeit wide-eyed and screaming, was introduced to the sort of ritualistic play that would eventually guide his career. With nothing but a pack of stolen matches and the misguided goal of “putting the spirit to rest,” the pair of them locked themselves in her bathroom to chant into the mirror, spin in circles, and search for faces in the glass. And while they never found them, these games did instill in the young Jeremy a new sense of bravery and morbid curiosity. After all, if a ghost could be banished away by something as simple as blowing out a match, maybe they were not so frightening after all.

Still, he had always been curious. His mother was, after all, a career academic, and to that end, Jeremy had little hope of genuinely shirking his homework. He did well in school and read often. Small and eager to be helpful, he was even, in some ways, a natural teacher’s pet, eager to spend more time among the adults than the playground bullies. Eventually, Jeremy attended a nearby “all boys” Catholic high school, and while the AV Club was already dying by that time, he and a few friends began borrowing their camera equipment to “record psychic phenomena,” which largely consisted of them trying to unsuccessfully move rubber balls with their minds.

At sixteen, however, one of the boys got his own car, and the unlikely group was able to finally take part in a bit of local legend that involved circling an abandoned house several times, honking one’s horn, and then flashing one’s headlights. The result was the ghost of “Clarice” appearing in an upper story window to chase the intruders away. Every time they did this ritual, someone in the vehicle would shout that they had seen her (although it was never more than one person at a time). Following one such excursion, one boy disappeared from school with the flu for a week, and there was, at least, a successful rumor he had been spirited away. That was sort of fun.

Upon graduating, near but not quite at the top of his class, Jeremy ultimately attended the University of Washington, eager to spread his wings to the West Coast although Stanford had rejected him. While he began his higher education as a History major, he eventually shifted his focus to cultural anthropology, in which he earned his Bachelor’s degree. Graduate School, a Master’s degree, and a Doctorate from New York University eventually followed, and Jeremy began focusing his field of study more specifically on the role of folklore and legend in the modern world. His first and only full-length book, a small academic piece, entitled Creating Clarice: An Anthropological Case Study on the Invention of a Ghost, sprung to life when he, upon digging through an academic database, discovered the phantom woman he had tried so vehemently to conjure as a teenager had never actually existed.

Combining local interviews, in-depth real estate research, historical records, and a dive into the roots of ritualistic children’s games themselves, he tried, with varying levels of success, to trace the story to its source and frame it in the context of the community that had created it. This research, while mostly published for classroom use, did eventually earn him a position at Crescent College, where he still teaches today.

In his five years in town, Jeremy has since become something of an undisputed expert in local history, collecting trivia in the same way others might collect stamps. That said, Jeremy remains, to this day, a collector in the most traditional sense. His small home, an old building near the docks, has its charms and is known to be full of oddities, antiques, and other things that have caught the owner’s fancy. Most are of local interest, and Jeremy has rather seriously involved himself in town preservation efforts.

possible connections

The Student - Jeremy is a professor at Crescent College and teaches a variety of anthropology courses for all skill levels. This person is either a former or current student. Perhaps Jeremy mentors them, or perhaps they were an eternal thorn in his side.

The Curious - Jeremy collects all sorts of odd objects he finds. From 19th century tea sets, to old letters and photographs, to “haunted” mirrors and dolls, he welcomes this person regularly to poke around the antiques and maybe even goes shopping with them.

The Adventurous - Jeremy’s primary areas of expertise are modern folklore and ritualistic play. He and this person team up to test out the latest spooky games and legends, from trying to summon up a mirror ghost or see if they can get someone from beyond the grave talk with them through a disconnected telephone.

The Historian - Jeremy is well-versed in the history of the town and its founding families. Perhaps this person wants or needs to learn more about some obscure local topic, and the professor is here to help.

#crescent:intro #intro #about #bio #tw: death #tw: blood

4 notes · View notes

memorylang · 4 years ago

Text

Fathers’ Day, Familiarity and Faith | #38 | June 2020

If my COVID-19 experiences were a Netflix Original Series, I feel someone could title it, "The Groundskeeper."

Synopsis: Returned Peace Corps Volunteer from Mongolia, now back in Nevada, learns a thing or two about hedge trimming and much more about life living.

The inspirational hit series stars award-winning memoirist Daniel Lindbergh Lang, director and editor. “Please support the official release.”

Quirky thoughts keep me sane. More on these later, of course.

The U.S. celebrated Father’s Day 2020 on June 21, so I commemorate it with reflections from being my father’s son.

The adventures follow both my Mothers’ Day reflections (#36) and Easter in America stories (#35). I focus now on continued COVID-19 adventures in yard work, sorting and reminiscing.

Chronologically, we pick up from my stateside Week 11 (May 15-21), when my sisters came home from their unis’ spring semesters. With them as collaborators, I continued sorting our family’s memorabilia. After a few weeks’ interlude 'round Memorial Day, big changes occurred Weeks 14 through 16 (June 5-25) through Fathers’ Day.

I also consider Pentecost and the Spirit. Easter 2020 ended Sunday, May 31, so we’re in a fruitful new time. In fact, I write here results from the smattering of routines I shared before.

Lastly, to clarify, many assume my dad’s Asian. But that’s untrue. He’s Austrian-American. That’s where I get my “Lang” surname. Ethnically, I’m about half Austrian. Culturally, too, Dad’s family influenced me far more than Mom’s when I grew up. My mom was ethnically full Chinese, hence that half.

Now back to Dad!

Father’s Perspective on My Boyhood

During my 2020 time home since Peace Corps’ evacuation, Dad often prods me to take on projects he sees around the yard. So, I do yard work. I don’t like desert heat, so I usually work the daily tasks an hour or two at dawn, sometimes dusk. Picture three months this way.

But Dad would tend to demand a certain perfection on many projects, expecting me out there working when there’s work to do. I’d rather let nature do as it pleases. Peace Corps experiences taught me decorated yards generally feel overrated. When I’m older, I feel I’d much rather have my family frequent parks to get our yard fix. Nonetheless, yard work lets me chat with God, who reminds me empathize.

It is difficult to say, "I serve the Father," if I do not serve my father.

With this in mind, I consider the patient progress of waiting while working often.

Dad grew up in rural America’s Midwest from the mid-20th century. Dad’s parents and community were largely Austrian-American Catholics. Dad’s grandfather immigrated with Dad’s great-grandfather because land in Austria was scarce, late-19th century, yet plentiful in Kansas. My dad grew up on a farm as a third-generation Austrian-American. He funded his higher ed. through U.S. military service and numerous side jobs, including those in teaching and sales.

Through Dad, I’m a fourth-generation Austrian-American—though, only second-generation Chinese-American, through Mom. I wasn’t quite on a farm, having grown up between Midwestern suburbs and an urban West. Still, Dad regularly tasked siblings and I with yard work.

An Energetic Kid, Ages 4-7

Now this gets interesting!

This mid-May 2020, my younger sister and I unearthed Christmas letters our parents (mostly Dad) had written to Dad’s siblings—my uncles and aunts—since before 2000. Turns out, our mom kept hard copies in the bins beside her desk. From these, Sister and I read pretty enjoyable pieces about our child selves.

Here I share Dad’s tales from grade school me in Indiana (used with permission):

2001: "Daniel is 4 years old now and is looking forward to kindergarten. He likes outdoor activities and he is quite strong for his age. He can do a lot of sit ups and push ups already. He likes to walk with [his mom] at the airport, which is nearby."

2002: "Daniel is five years old. He is in kindergarten. He is [...] very competitive. He is in the same school as [his older brother] and is rapidly learning to read now. He is good at math, and he studies very hard."

2003: "Daniel is six years old. He is very competitive and naughty. He always keeps track of the books he reads and comes home to tell us how many books he has finished. His goal is to reach 100 books this year. He is over 90 already. Well, he likes to pester [his brother a lot]. He thinks that is fun. [...]"

2004: "Daniel is seven. He is goal oriented and a 'do'er. He is good at making all kinds of crafts. He is our family's talented teacher. He taught [his younger sister] how to read before she went to kindergarten. He also gives homework assignments to the others, except [his older brother]. He always pesters [his brother] as usual."

God graced me with energy as a kid.

I noticed three themes. For one, I seemed to follow Dad’s lead in filling my time productively. He served in the U.S. Army National Guard and emphasized self-discipline. As a civilian family practitioner, too, he advocated for daily exercises, such as sit-ups, push-ups and walking. I seemed to follow suit.

On the other hand, I was a kiddo with an older brother, and I didn’t mind expending plenty spare energy to bother him. Thankfully I stopped pestering when I grew up with enough self-awareness to know good people don’t intentionally troll. Uni helped.

Curiously, I noticed the letters seemed to note many of my interests resembling Mom’s. Arts, reading and studying seemed more like Mom’s interests than Dad’s, yet I hadn’t realized my similarities to Mom back then. Of course, Dad values education, too.

Studious Beyond Belief, Ages 13-19

As I went through elementary school, Dad’s military service included deployments overseas to Afghanistan (2005) and Iraq (2007). In 2008, our family moved from southern Indiana to North Las Vegas, Nev., where I started middle school. Since my younger sister and I hadn’t found letters from Dad’s years deployed with the others letter, we figured Mom wrote them. By 2009’s end, Dad retired as a lieutenant colonel. But he continued work elsewhere, including in a dozen nations to indigenous peoples of the Americas.

Here were Christmas letters from my adolescence on. Coincidentally, I noticed the first couple we found both came from my last years at respective schools.

2010: “Danny, 13, is finishing at [...] a magnet [middle] school associated with math, science and technology. He [earned last year] a 4.0 [grade-point] average. He received a letter this past week from a magnet high school stating that he was the type of student they were looking for. [I, Dad, think Danny] is also in the National Junior Honor Society [service group]. [...] Danny continues to have to be at the school bus stop at 5:50 in the morning.”

2014: “Danny is the ultimate study robot, with his inhuman ability to study for hours on end in place of sleep, or other usual activities for high schoolers. He attended NV Boys State this past June, and he has risen to the rank of Division News Editor within [Kiwanis] Key Club--a HS service group. Danny and [his younger sister] also attended Key Club activities in CA in Nov. [...] As this is his senior year [...], he should be starting to apply for colleges now, but [...] he has not applied to Yale, which is causing his mother to feel that she is a ‘failure’ if none of her kids get accepted at this prestigious school--it’s used by Chinese mothers as a guilt trip for their kids! [...] He also received an AP with Honors award [from his magnet high school]. He presently is in the ‘top 10’ students in his class ranking. But if he doesn’t get his applications in, then there is always UNLV [Las Vegas]!”

2016: “Daniel is now a sophomore at UNR (Reno) in the Honors Program, and is an honors ambassador. He says he has 1 major in journalism with 3 minors at the present time, and he works at the library when time permits. He also completed an internship in publishing during the summer session, when he stayed in Reno and frugally survived during the summer by ‘couch surfing’ at several different locations. Several of us attended his confirmation at Easter in Reno. He also [...] presented at a few [conferences]. Additionally, he is involved in [the Kiwanis] Circle K service group on campus, as well as the Knights of Columbus, and he sings in the choir at the local Newman Center. Based on his Facebook postings, he seems to be enjoying college immensely. [...]”

I definitely loved service groups—and still do, if Peace Corps counts!

Seeing these letters in 2020, I feel amused how Dad wrote of my later academic interests with distance. Dad’s 2002 line about 5-year-old me, “[Daniel] studies very hard,” escalated exponentially, noticeable by his 2014 line about 17-year-old me, “Danny is the ultimate study robot, with his inhuman ability to study for hours on end in place of sleep.” I figure my peers were similar, though…

I feel amused, too, how Dad included Mom’s wanting me to pursue STEM careers. Chinese often expect this of their kids. In some sense, I’m glad Dad let me escape the Asian tendency and Mom’s ideal to have me pursue a Bachelor of Science. Back then, I contended a bachelor’s from the professional School of Journalism would still make me hireable.

Sure enough, Peace Corps hired!

Besides, I felt vindicated later when I learned my minors in English literature, Chinese studies and communication studies resembled my late mother’s fields of English literature and international relations... She clearly benefited from Liberal Arts. More on these in previous reflections, though. :)

Back From Mongolia

Snap back to March 2020, when I just returned to America after our COVID-19 evacuation from Mongolia.

I was really into “Frozen II,” the cathartic film easing me back into the States. My first week back felt very different from those after. Because “Some Things Never Change,” I discerned to do “The Next Right Thing.” Waking to various “Frozen II” numbers of looping in my brain, days began with such thoughts.

My first days, I often compared experiences to Mom’s when she raised my siblings and me. Despite being at home, I was alone. Dad worked away, plus siblings had school and work. (This preceded American schools canceling or moving online.) So, I felt confused what to do.

I discerned I could tidy the house, serve where others couldn’t. Whether dishes to wash or rooms to clean, I addressed what I saw. I imagined Mom felt this way when my siblings and I attended school and Dad worked.

I also considered my living father matters as much as my late mother. So, honoring Dad honors her, too.

Dad always had yard projects he wanted me doing. I had to weed so much when I first returned.

I felt insights, at least. I considered, weeds are eternal. Weeds will always grow on spiritual life. Weeds attempt to choke our crops’ life. We must uproot our weeds and prune dead areas to fortify new and better parts of being. The physical and spiritual are one. … Yet, weeds still annoy me.

Noticeably, my labors seemed to confuse many in my family. They seemed mostly to recall the 2015 me who’d choose studying over chores any day. But I guess most hadn’t factored I’ve experienced plenty in my years away from home, especially during my months living alone cooking for myself in Mongolia. House tasks are necessary parts of life.

Besides, I’d already been doing these tasks others seemed disinterested in, even back at Christmas 2019, when I sorted Mom’s books, and later during post-evacuation Week 9 (May 1-7), packing up Mom’s desk after three years gathering dust. I felt frustrated others seemed slow to accept I’ve changed since Peace Corps. I pray for grace.

The New Journey

June 6, 2020—just days after Pentecost and coincidentally one month to my 23rd birthday—marked one huge occasion.

Dad remarried!

I felt excited.

I also noticed a curious parallel in threes. For, on my family history adventures, I discovered something about Dad’s parents. In 1987, his mother's spouse passed away; on the third year, she married again, in 1990. 30 years later, my dad’s spouse passed away in 2017; on the third year, he married again, in 2020. Coincidences comfort me at times.

That day, I’d also finished revisions to submit my thesis to a different journal for publication. I’d tried before with one in June 2019 and February 2020, but unfortunately my work hadn’t fit within their scope. Still, the editor believed that I could publish it in the right place!

College Town Return

That Week 14 (June 5-11), Dad also purchased a house in Reno, Nev., where my kind stepmom may move, too. Dad requested aid moving things in Reno. My younger sister and youngest brother both opted out, so I went instead. I prefer Reno’s weather, anyway.

In Reno again, I felt parallels to past years.

Helping my youngest sister and her friend move from a condo and house to the new place, I recalled the many who helped me move between Reno homes during my undergrad. Honestly, I felt weird to think of my dad relocating to Reno, especially since I hadn’t known the area he chose existed during my years studying in town.

Mongolia returned to mind, too, while I lugged belongings in and out of the condo, up and down stairs. Hard to believe that that was three months ago when Peace Corps evacuated us. Exactly three months before, March 9, 2020, was my first Monday in Nevada again.

Writing of Mongolia, I also recalled every bellhop who's hauled my 23 kg (50 lbs.) luggage up stairs in Asia. God bless them.

On the bright side, with helping the sister and friend move, Dad said I got stronger. That felt good. When he asked how many push-ups I could do, I said 50—my new personal record met just days before. When I started working out the month and a half prior, I could only do half that.

Thanks to the lifting and yard work tasking me in Reno, I paused my fitness routines. I realized, I’ve enough strength and endurance for what I’d want to do. So now, having met the goals, I still work out, just less concerned about gains.

Tests of Faith

Back to that ‘groundskeeping.’

With Reno versus Vegas, I prefer hedges to palm trees. Hedges are more fun and less merciless. They leave my body less bloody than palm trees, too. Reno’s weather also keeps cooler.

As you’d expect, yard work leaves plenty time to reflect, chat with God. In earlier days these chats opened with lamentations about the heat and constant tasks. But God graces peace.

Ultimately, Dad’s tasks need someone to do them. He’s busy working full-time out-of-town, and siblings still have activities they must or would rather do. So I volunteer.

On the other side, Dad at times says he’ll compensate me once the bills are paid. There always seem bills to me, though. Since it’s been three months now, I try to think of this like the Kingdom. Whether or not I see rewards, I try to persevere. I must trust the Father to provide in time, no matter the wait. It’s a spiritual exercise.

Pa says he’s glad I’m financially stable, too—My scholarships, grants and work study graduated me debt-free. Those seem good, I guess.

So, spiritually exercising while laboring, I consider parables of workers in the field and masters. Christ spoke of such. Parables about fields and wages seem more nuanced after feeling comparable questions.

I think, too, to re-education labor camps sometimes. During China’s Cultural Revolution, my mom’s parents—both teachers—were sent to those. So, my ‘toiling’ in Dad’s backyards are surely nothing compared to what my grandparents involuntarily endured. I can bear my ‘shackles.’

These bring me to privilege.

At the day’s end, I have places to stay, food to eat and stable internet. Many Americans and people worldwide face greater turmoil than these, perhaps including you, my reader. So, I try acknowledging my ‘hardships’ hardly compare. I try to focus prayers for the needier. Faith helps me through.

On a happy note, I just reached the Diamond League on Duolingo! So, life could definitely be worse...

The Climb

One day during Week 15 (June 12-18), after Dad came home at dusk from work, he asked me to get out the ladder to climb the backyard tree. I thought that was wistful thinking!

Well, I had the time and realized he wanted me to climb after all. The tree had a fallen limb he wanted me to saw off, since I weigh less than him. I insisted I’d only climb with him around.

Well, he came around.

I ascended and sawed four limbs! Before the climb, we thought I only had to address a single one. But as I climbed for it, I found more. Thankfully, these were thin limbs. Dad gave some advice from below, handed me our hand saw then left me while he took care of other tasks around the yard. I climbed higher, wedged my feet in semi-stable positions and got to work.

Atop, the wind blew, so the tree rocked. I clung high in a swaying tree. Good Lord.

But I felt amazed, handling my saw even with my off-hand. I’d cling with one arm and saw with the other. When branches got stuck, I had to grab them, push and jerk them away from other sections to send them down. Dad had me call out, “Timber!” With the final branch out, I let the saw fall.

Success felt like redemption from that random tree I climbed the first culture-shocked day I returned to Vegas from Mongolia. This time I’d such control. My safety depended on it! Plus, I only grazed the back of my hand, as opposed to gashing my palm like the last time I left a tree. Less bleeding is better.

By the end, my arms and legs trembled, not from worry but from muscle fatigue. Still, I felt empowered. Throughout my childhood, I could never climb a tree. Now I passed the physical I hadn’t expected a month and a half prior.

All told, my climb took just half an hour.

Staying the Course

In a week and a half, I turn 23! So I’ll be one (1) 23-year-old, hehe. Look forward to new reflections on how I’ve grown and changed.

As an extension of my paternal family history projects, I started writing memorable quotes from Dad. My siblings and I wound up adapting these and more into our Fathers’ Day 2020 gift! Dad enjoyed our “Book of the Father” we printed.

Meanwhile, America begins to slightly reopen amid COVID-19 conditions, and the post-solstice summer’s begun. So, I encourage us to, whenever possible, still #StayHome more than usual, wear our face masks, maintain physical distance and of course wash our hands. We’ll get through this.

And I hear some are struggling with loneliness, too—If you need someone to talk to, you can always count on me. It’s among the most challenging feelings, given we humans are social beings staying physically apart. Writing, phoning and video calls help me, at least. Feel free to reach out. I keep you and loved ones in my prayers.

Best wishes, and till we chat again.

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

#Peace Corps #Mongolia #memoir #story #Catholic #God #memoryLang #USA #moving #Las Vegas #Pentecost #faith #Reno #Coronavirus #COVID-19 #hope #summer #StayHome #WithMe #Fathers Day

2 notes · View notes

christlansfm · 5 years ago

Text

𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 here and do i have the tea for you . xiaojun ‘ christian ’ is back on campus , which is surprising considering the threatening note i left them . yes , i know all about him working to get emancipated from his parents to finally get away from his father’s strict ruling because of their wrath . imagine the tabloids and how the lei family would feel for such information to come out , not to mention the reputation of sigma because of their actions . at this rate , he is better off staying put in singapore , singapore and living off that $430m family net worth . what’s the point in studying chemistry with plans to assist in international humanitarian aid around the world , is it worth it with what i know ? anyways , they may want to continue to be blasé & taciturn because the uncouth & volatile attributes make me want to spill . ( wong yukhei , remy , eastern ) .

hi , good morning ! today is a wonderful day ! i never thought i’d be quoting�� a tik tok song , but i’d be lying if i said i didn’t find them to be entertaining . anywhomst , my name’s remy , formerly known as ares , and i’m super excited to be back ! i decided to bring along a new baby for this wild ride , and this is where i introduce you guys to my son lei xiaojun , also known as christian lei ! don’t let this beaming gif of lucas fool you , christian is the brood and angst master™ ( especially since i’m a complete sucker for some angst ) . i won’t keep you here for too long , so i look forward to plotting and chatting with everyone ! if it’s easier or simply a preference , my discord is 𝕥𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚 𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐚#6936 if you’d like to plot there !

trigger warning(s) : abusive parental figures and non - explicit mentions of abuse .

legal name : lei xiao - jun . english name : christian lei ( preferred ) . nickname(s) : chris and ian . birthday / age : july 10th , 1998 / 21 . zodiac : cancer . pronouns : he / him or they / them . gender : agender . sexual orientation : bisexual . romantic orientation : biromantic . height : 6′0″ ( six foot , zero inches ) . hometown : singapore , singapore . current location : beverly hills , california . nationality : singaporean . ethnicity : chinese and thai . languages spoken : cantonese , english , thai , and elementary spanish ( college course - level ) .

mali chaiyasan had humble beginnings in her hometown of bangkok , thailand . her parents owned a small restaurant in their neighborhood , and while it was a pretty popular place amongst the other families and college students , the restaurant gave them enough money to live comfortably , but not lavishly . mali held no malice towards her parents because they made her life as comfortable as they could , and always encouraged their daughter to go to college . she studied hard while working at her family’s restaurant , often times doing homework while sitting behind the counter , and was eventually accepted to attend bangkok university . she became a law student , and worked her way through college as one of her class’s top students .

during her time at bangkok university , despite her focus on her education , mali meets her future husband , international business english student lei kong - sang . kong - sang had come from a family different from mali’s , as his family was quite wealthy . kong - sang always knew that at some point he and his older brother would inherit their family’s company , but during his younger years , kong - sang had interest in starting his own . kong - sang was a year older than mali , but that didn’t stop the couple from marrying after her graduation with her master’s degree . the couple settled in a beautiful neighborhood in bangkok as mali began working for a law firm in the city , and kong - sang continued working towards his own business .

as the years pass , mali and kong - sang begin to establish themselves in their respective fields . due to kong - sang’s business in real estate and construction taking off , the couple decided to remain in asia , but made singapore their new home . specifically , they moved to the luxurious neighborhood of bukit timah . focused on their respective careers , it wasn’t until they were in their mid - 30s when they finally decided to have a child of their own . knowing that they didn’t want a big family , the couple only had one child , their son xiao - jun .

xiao - jun , or more commonly known as christian , was an adorable baby who had an infectious personality while growing up , although it was his nanny and tutors who got to see his personality the most . his parents had companies to run and glass ceilings to break , thus having no time in their busy schedules to spend with their child . christian often spent nights wondering when his parents would be coming home as he continuously had dinner with his nannies or sat by the door waiting to hear their cars pull up in the driveway . eventually , as he grew older , christian waiting by the door and wondering where his parents were ceased to a halt . he grew accustomed to having closer relationships with those who worked for his family than his parents , and even if his parents were home in the morning before he went to school , they barely shared two words with one another .

absolutely no one outside of his parents calls him xiao - jun and it’s mostly because his father doesn’t accept his choices , even when it comes to something as simple as his name .

despite their lack of an attempt to know their son , mali and kong - sang felt as though they had a say in what he would do in the future . kong - sang was rather hard on his son , only sharing words with him when he wanted his son to be first in his class or when one of his grades slipped by a point or two . mali and kong - sang were never nurturing parents , and christian would always rebel against them whenever they attempted to discipline him . there were many arguments between the lei family especially as christian went through his teenage years . upon his fourteenth birthday came a true turning point for the lei family , as kong - sang became more brutal with his punishments . his mother always seemed to turn a blind eye whenever dinner arguments between father and son went from passive aggressive statements to the sound of broken porcelain .

sporting a black eye the next day or some scarring from the broken porcelain , christian became more withdrawn and kept to himself whenever out in public . he became close to one of his family’s housekeepers , and she was often the one to care for him the most whenever his father became irate and his mother closed herself off in her office . the closer it came to going off to college , one would assume that christian would have stayed in singapore ( or at least in asia ) because he’d be away from his parents , but he wanted to put as much distance between them as he could muster . he looked at elite schools in the uk , switzerland , germany , sweden , and even the states -- he wanted to be as far away from them as possible . after month after month of applying for colleges , christian was eventually accepted into hollingsworth university and he couldn’t have been more excited to finally get away from the people who managed to make his life hell .

although his parents wanted him to go to college for business or law ( as expected ) , christian has always been a bit more on the side of helping those who are less fortunate than him . his parents have multiple foundations that they support , but there were plenty of nights where they’d come home from galas complaining about the rigorous work that went into charities as well as ensuring that their money went where it was supposed to . thus , that explains why christian is majoring in chemistry with the intent of becoming a registered nurse . he knows that his parents wouldn’t be happy with him pursuing such a career choice , especially when he wants to travel around the world for humanitarian aid -- his parents are extremely selfish despite their outward appearances ( and his mom constantly telling the story of when she was younger and living in poverty in bangkok ) .

as for his personality , christian is mostly described as the brooding type , but not for shits and giggles . even though he’s far away from his parents , he knows that they still want to have control despite being thousands of miles away . his father is especially strict about the things that christian does , and he doesn’t even refer to his son as his preferred name . for his positive ( albeit more neutral traits ) , christian is described as blasé and taciturn . he’s ridiculously laidback and doesn’t really like to have drama surrounding him because it can seriously kill his mood . sometimes , because he is so nonchalant , it can lead to people thinking that he doesn’t care about them when in reality it’s the situation that he doesn’t really care for . he also doesn’t talk much so don’t expect him to start conversations or even engage in one for a period of time . he keeps to himself and can be pretty reclusive , so if he doesn’t really give a response , don’t take it to heart .

as for his more negative traits , christian is uncouth and volatile . he’s more so disrespectful towards his father more than anyone else , unless someone is really pushing his buttons . his housekeeper , barbara ( a sweet little lady ) , is the only person who really sees how disrespectful christian really is towards his father . his mother doesn’t get as much of his disrespect , but she can get the short end of the stick if she tries to butt in ( or if she dares to side with his father when she knows the man is wrong ) . his second trait really ties in with the first since he can sometimes really fly off the handle if someone repeatedly pushes his buttons . he doesn’t like to be asked if something is wrong with him when he’s not talking much or if he tells someone to fuck off and they don’t listen . it really grinds his gears like nothing else .

secret .

so christian’s secret is that he’s currently going through the process of getting emancipated from his parents . he is going the route of implied emancipation , where he has left home and been self - sufficient for a number of months ( i . e . going off to college ) . the reason why he’s been self - sufficient is because of a sizable inheritance he obtained at eighteen years old ( rounding to about $20m ) and he has another one that he’s supposed to get upon turning twenty - five ( at the amount of $80m ) .

short headcanons .

chris lives in an off - campus apartment , not too far from campus . it’s about ten minutes away in west hollywood .

he has two great loves in his life : his bentley bentayga and kawasaki zx - 6r . most of the time he drives his car , but he likes to pull out the motorcycle every now and then .

canon to yukhei , christian’s english is accented since it’s not his first language . the best video for an example is this one . there’s another one where he’s talking to ten , but i can’t find it :/ .

he is blind as hell ! don’t ever let him say he forgot his glasses -- don’t let him drive ! almost 95% of the time , he wears contacts but he does have days where he wears his glasses and looks like a tiny baby when he does .

as far as other clubs / organizations that christian is a part of outside of school , he’s currently in : an honor society for stem students , and he’s been on the soccer team since he was a sophomore .

he has an apricot colored australian labradoodle named vivi !

wanted plots .

i should mention here that it’d be almost impossible for christian to have like , high school sweetheart plots and things of the sort since he didn’t go to high school in america , but a lot of plots could come from summer vacations and even college in general so a few i’d like to have are :

former friends with benefits ! maybe christian pushed them away at some point or someone caught feelings , but either way i think it’d be a really fun and potentially angsty plot to have !

i’d love for him to have a best friend ? gender doesn’t matter , but i’d prefer for it to be strictly platonic and simply them able to be themselves with one another . their friendship doesn’t have to be a long one , but it could be so much fun !

give me a failed relationship or give me death ! i’ve been wanting a plot like this for so long omg like maybe they had a mutual attraction and were super into each other before the relationship but then as soon as they started dating , they realized how incompatible they truly were ? we don’t have to go that specific route , but there’s an idea !

#abuse cw #holling:intro

11 notes · View notes

letters-from-the-three-houses · 5 years ago

Note

ahh I love your blog!! could I have a dimitri sickfic please, if you're taking requests? he seems like the type to overwork himself (to me, at least :(

he really does!! the poor boy should take care of himself :(

ft. the rest of the blue lions (silver lining for the long wait?) bc they all care about their house leader

enjoy!

edit: every time i publish a request before i go to the school, the moment i arrive to class i always spot typos lol. and this one had a looot. fixed them up!

When the coughing first appeared, he thought nothing of it. They always came and went with a good night’s rest, and he had no reason to think this one would be different.

He was wrong.

Voice hoarse, he kept clearing his throat as he tried to help Annette with her homework. She always had difficulties explaining things properly, and their teacher docked marks because of her lack of coherent thought. So he took it upon himself to tutor her and help boost up her grades. “Imagine the gaits as beats,” he said. “A walk is four—going in the pattern of left hind leg, left front, right hind, right front, and so forth.”

“Left hind…front… Wait, could you repeat that? Which leg then what? This? This? This?”

They had drawn a nice, simple horse illustration on Annette’s papers, her pencil pointing at each stick leg to show which one she was referring to. Dimitri was having trouble differentiating them. He repeated his explanation. “Legs of the same side are back to back—left, left, right, right—while the halves interchange—back, front, back front.”

“So beat one is back left, beat two is front left…”

He nodded, then winced. Okay, that was a mistake. That just made his head hurt. “Yeah, just like that.”

She beamed. “Oh! I see! I think I get it now. Thanks!”

“No problem. What else do you need me to clarify?”

“Nah, I think that’s it. I’ll try to do the rest myself.” Motioning to her notes, she added, “Besides, you’ve helped me a lot! I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Sure thing.” He rose from the seat, careful not to make any sudden movements. “I’ll get going then, but let me know if you need more help.”

“Yep! Thanks again, Dimmie!”

He stumbled away from a waving Annette, making sure to stand upright and walk in a straight line.

Now I have to feed the horses, go to lance practice, catch up on the assigned readings… Ah, I also promised Ingrid I’d try her new tea. She’s been making good progress with—

Cough.

He sighed. Hopefully this would stop soon.

But as the days went on, the more it took for him to resist barfing.

Placing a hand on the wall, he took a deep breath. Gods, it felt like his skull was cracking open. Everything hurt. Everything was hot. He didn’t even know where he was anymore.

“Common room?” he said to himself. “I think I’m near the common room.”

He had just come from the armoury, hands heavy with all the papers and materials he needed for the task. Felix didn’t realize it, but he sometimes broke the training swords faster than the monastery could replace them. Dimitri had taken up the slack in order to keep it well-stocked, so his friend could continue practicing without hassle.

“…Milord? What are you doing on the wall?”

He turned around. It was Dedue. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just thinking to myself.”

Dedue didn’t seem to believe him, and he bent over to study him with a frown. Or, Dimitri figured it was a frown. He couldn’t see it properly, but he was still conscious enough to realize Dedue wouldn’t be smiling. “You look sick.”

“I’m only taking a breather,” he insisted. He had to get to the library to find source materials for the essay Sylvain has having trouble on. If he left the books on Sylvain’s desk later, the boy would be able to finish his essay on time. “No need to worry.”

But as he tried to pat Dedue’s shoulder in assurance, his vision blurred and he hit the ground, things scattering around him.

“Milord?!”

“No…I’m okay…” He struggled to keep his eyes open, but the sudden fall and the yelling made his head hurt. “Just…tired…”

He felt Dedue lift him up, his arm hanging loosely around the other’s neck. Feet dragging, breathing ragged, his mind was beginning to shut down.

“Really…it’s nothing…I still have to…”

“Milord,” he heard Dedue say. “With all due respect, be quiet.”

The last thing he saw was a group of people running towards him before he passed out.

He woke up on something soft. It took him a second to realize he was staring at the ceiling.

��Wait, where was he?

Jolting up, he surveyed the room. White walls, beds, sterile sheets. The infirmary, if he had to guess? His head hurt noticeably less, his throat was less clogged, and he could actually count how many fingers he held up before his face.

“Oh? You’re awake?” He turned to see Manuela in her chair, brows raised but otherwise nonplussed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he said after some deliberation.

“Any headaches?”

“Yeah, but it’s not as bad as before.”

“Stuffy nose?”

“Less stuffy.”

She stalked over to take his temperature, noting it down on a piece of paper. “Your fever is breaking. And it looks like you’re not coughing as often. Good signs. Take it easy though. You’re still sick.”

“How long was I out for?”

“Nineteen hours.”

“Nineteen?!”

She gave him a reprimanding stare. “With how terrible your condition was, I’m surprised it wasn’t longer. You gave us quite a scare, looking as pale as you did. Your housemates were panicking when they brought you here.”

Thinking back to what happened, guilt set in. The last people he saw must’ve been them. “Where are they now?” he asked.

“The mess hall, having their lunch.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

He began to swing his legs over the bed before Manuela tutted, walking over to push him back on the pillows. “Hm? Who said you could leave? You’re stuck on bed rest for the rest of the day. Doctor’s orders.”

“But—”

“No buts. I don’t want you fainting in the hallways again.”

“Professor—” he tried again.

“Another word from you and the prescription will change to two days.”

He pursed his lips.

She glanced at him, smiling. “Focus on recovering, won’t you? Your housemates will feel better if you’re back to normal sooner than later.”

He nodded, not knowing what else to say. Or do, for that matter. Knowing he slept for nineteen hours straight, he wasn’t sleepy anymore. But he had a feeling if he asked the professor for something to keep him busy, she’d make him stay here longer than he needed to.

He could count sheep, he supposed. Try to reach a thousand, or something.

As he was about to begin, there was a knock on the door. He couldn’t tell who it was, but Manuela seemed to be expecting it. As she answered the door, she said, “You all ate quickly.”

“Yes, we couldn’t sit still.” His ears perked up. The voice was familiar. Mercedes? “How is he doing now?”

She thought about it, then motioned towards him. “I think it’s easier if you take a look for yourself.”

Someone gasped. “What?” That was Ashe, who slipped under Manuela to peek inside. “Does that mean it’s gotten worse? Is he—? Oh! He’s awake!”

And with that, the rest of the Blue Lions clambered into the room.

“He is?”

“Thank the gods…”

“I told you he was going to be okay!”

“Yeah, but if he wasn’t being an idiot in the first place—”

“Quiet. His headache just got better.” That shut them up. “You’re more than welcome here,” Manuela said, “but don’t aggravate him. Else I’ll kick you all out.”

“Yes, Professor.”

She shook her head, letting out a short laugh. “As long as you understand. Well then, children, I’ll be in my office. Call me if anything happens. And remember: no noise.”

As soon as she left, Ashe turned to Dimitri and stage whispered, “You sure you’re okay, Chief?”

He nodded. This time, it didn’t make him feel like throwing up. “Positive.”

“You should’ve told us you were sick,” Mercedes chastised. “What would have happened if Dedue wasn’t there to find you?”

He shuffled in the bed. “Well,” he muttered, “for starters, I wasn’t planning on fainting.”

“That is besides the point.” She sighed. “Please, we all care about you. Take better care of yourself.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about all those chores you do?” Sylvain chimed in. “We didn’t realize you did them all by yourself. You’ve done a lot for us. We want to do something for you too.”

Everyone nodded. He opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when he saw the earnestness in their eyes. It reminded him of himself, how he felt when he worked for the sake of his housemates. So he stared for a moment before saying, “Okay.”

“…Okay?”

“I admit I overworked,” he said, “taking in all those responsibilities at once. I guess I’ve gotten used to doing everything by myself. But you’re right. And I do trust you. As the leader of the Blue Lions, I’ve seen how hardworking and disciplined you all are.”

They looked at each other.

“So does that mean…?” Ingrid asked.

“Yeah. No more pushing myself to the limit. I’ll ask for help.” He cracked a smile. “I’m proud to have you as my friends.”

The solemn atmosphere broke out into exuberance, as they all expressed their relief in different ways. Mostly, through excited chatter and tight hugs. The wind rushed out of his lungs as they gathered in for a group hug.

“H-hey, having said that, I’m still sick.” He tried to speak up, but his words were drowned out by everyone else as they began splitting responsibilities between themselves. It didn’t help that his voice was still weaker than usual. “Can you all settle down a bit? It’s getting noisy. Guys? Guys?”

Omake:

From inside her office, Manuela could hear them as clear as day. Footsteps thundered People cheered. Laughter echoed. Did they forget her warning already? She wouldn’t be surprised if they broke something in the chaos.

Still, listening to them and all their enthusiasm—"rock, paper, scissors for who gets to help tend the stables!“—she shook her head and chuckled. I guess I’ll let it slide this time.

[asks are open!]

#fire emblem three houses #fe16 #fe3h #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #blue lions #manuela casagranda #asks #scenarios #anon #prerelease

41 notes · View notes

imagines-forthe-soul · 6 years ago

Text

Red Ninja Babe Headcanons

Since Tumblr flagged the original post since I had lots of nsfw gifs in it, I’m just reposting this because I still love this red baby of mine.

Warning: Probably lots of spelling mistakes and errors cuz I’m a lazy dumbass that doesn’t like to proofread

__________________________________________________

Tsūrunaka Hattatsu:

General info:

Name: Hattatsu Tsūrunaka (Hattatsu meaning growth or enlargement and the Tsūru for his last name meaning tool)

Age: 17

Birthday: July 28

Zodiac: Leo

Height: 5’10

Weight: 201Lb

Hair Color: Red

Eye Color: Prussian Blue

School: Seijin Academy

Class: Second Year, class 5

Alignment: Hero

Physical description: Average height, muscular body, serious features, square/chiseled jaw, an ‘X’ scar on his left cheek, thick eyebrows, wide eyes, slender nose. He looks generally handsome but can come off as rather intimating and scary. He has that cool, dangerous, and mysterious look about him though that is not how he really is.

Quirk (as said on the wikia): “Gigantification Quirk: The main strength of this Quirk is that it allows the user to increase the speed, strength, and size of the things the user touches, This can be used on bolts and Nails, Also seems the user can increase the speed to bring forth powerful momentum to increase the power of the user’s attacks, while the sudden increase in size can increase physical strength and destructive range of the weapons.This Quirk is very versatile As the user can customize the ammo to specific situations like using Tungsten against fire Quirk users. It is unknown if this Quirk is restricted to inanimate objects.”

Likes: curry buns, fluffy things, dogs

Dislikes: Dry weather, pickled fish, failing

Current concern: “I want to make my mother breakfast in bed for her birthday but I have no idea what to make.”

General:

He as born on July 28 in a hospital in Osaka, Japan and was given the name of Hattatsu Tsūrunaka (first-last Name).

He was an awfully quiet baby, mostly observing his surroundings and people, wanting to soak up as much information as he could with his wide eyes. He was awfully observant as a babe and picked up on a of things even at such a young age. It made him look rather serious and angry to say the least but it honestly added onto his his cuteness.

Plus!! He had super chubby cheeks and the sweetest little frowny eyebrows. His mother has a lot of photos of him with his little angry expression on his face and she can’t help but gush at them from time to time.

However, despite his angry or serious expression, Hattatsu was an incredibly easy baby to deal with, never putting up too much of a fuss with anything and was usually okay with people holding him and wanting to be close to him. He was a rather chubby baby so everyone wanted to kiss and hug him, and usually most babies are fussy or whine for their parents, but he rather enjoyed getting to meet so many new people and would even smile when people showed him affection.

His mom also dressed him up in a lot of bear onesies when he was a babe. He has a least four different types of Bear onesies in different colors, but her favorite was the brown one. She would mainly have him wear them during Christmas and would let him walk and play around in them until he was tired of wearing them.

He was really attached to his mother as both a baby and a toddler because she was really all that he had since his father died a short time after he was born. He would often cling to her leg or hold her hand wherever they went, always keeping a lookout in case some scary man tried to talk to his mother. He would also (try, mind you) to cook for his mother in the mornings to surprise her, but would usually end up making a mess or burning something, resulting in lots of tears and apologies from Hattatsu, but his mother couldn’t stay mad at him for long.

The day Hattatsu got his quirk was a bit of a wild day. He was in the park with his mother and dog, happily throwing around a ball when playing fetch with their dog. When it was Hattatsu’s turn to throw the ball, he sneezed mid throw which somehow activated his quirk and made the tennis ball grow at least 50 times it size. Both his mother and dog and everyone around them were extremely shocked and surprised at what they had just seen, but their shock turned into awe soon and claps went around for Hattatsu to congratulate him on finally getting his quirk and for the force it seemed to have.

After that day, He started practicing on his quirk more, using smaller objects and making them bigger. It took a lot of energy from him but he was a real strong kid and would train himself for hours to be able to both make the object big, and keep it that way for a while, soon moving up to making multiple objects bigger and holding their form.

It wasn’t until he was in middle school when he realized just what else he could do with his quirk. Not only could he enlarge an object by a great amount but he could also increase the speed and the destructive force of that object.

And true to how he was as a baby, Hattatsu grew up to be rather serious and took lots of his classes and training seriously. He had a strict regimen that he followed everyday to keep himself and his quirk in peak condition. He wants to be the best he can be in order to make both his mother and late father proud.

With this in mind, he didn’t get to make many friends and only really greeted people if he walked by them and said his goodbyes after school before going home.

And contrary to how he may look, he isn’t interested in becoming a hero for the fame and glory, but he’s in it for the money.

Much like Ochaco, he wants to be a hero to earn enough money to support his mother. He believes that after everything she has done and sacrificed for him, the least he could do is give her the majority of his earnings to make her life easier. He and his mother sometimes get into arguments about it, but he is determined to help his mother in any way he can.

With all that in mind, Hattatsu immersed himself in his training and studying to hone his skills to use his quirk efficiently and get noticed by some top schools. He kept all his grades up and made sure to get perfect scores on all his physical exams and training.

When he got into Seijin Academy, he and his mother were extremely happy and excited that he had gotten into a rather good school. The school was known for its discipline and intense courses and was known to have birthed many great Pros so it was just perfect for Hattatsu.

With that being said, Hattatsu made sure to be even more rigid with his schooling. He easily became the top student in his class, always passing his homework, schoolwork, and exams with flying colors. There has never been a time where he has gotten less than an A- on anything.

However, he isn’t a jerk about it. He rarely boasts about his grades and actually helps his fellow students a lot with their school work when t comes to subjects they are weak in.

Like Momo, he holds lots of study/homework sessions at his house (since he is an off campus student) every Saturday. He lets students from any and all classes come to his house for a full day, spending an hour or so on different topics before giving them a little quiz to do to see if what he had been tutoring them on has really payed off.

In doing this, Hattatsu was able to make a lot more friends. People were pretty surprised that he was so open and talkative despite his serious outlook and they often describe him as being rather blunt but in a humorous way.

His closest friends are the Yellow Ninja Twin babes, Ezra (the one with his left eye covered) and Dezna (the one with his right eye covered), the Green Ninja Babe, Hanzo and their group name is called the Seijin 4.

He is dubbed the “Dad” of the Seijin 4 because he is always nurturing and protecting his friends with everything he has. He always gets them out of trouble or funks they may be in, always lending them a helping hand when he knows they need one.

And just like fathers, his jokes are usually dad jokes that he makes unironically. It’s just how his humor is. Sometimes he’ll say a dad joke and his friend will burst out in laughter and he’s just very confused as to why they’re laughing so hard.

When he is being funny though and wants to crack a joke, his jokes are usually lengthy but boy do they make you weak. They’re so skillfully told and thoughtout and they will bring you to your knees in a fit of laughter.

He is usually modest but can point out someone else’s faults/weakness. He doesn’t do it on purpose, but sometimes he can’t help but point out someone’s weakness/fault when in combat or when he is trying to correct them if they come to him for help.

He can also be a bit of a jerk because he is pretty blunt from time to time. He doesn’t see the point in withholding the truth and will always say what is on his mind, although he will apologize if he has realized he has hurt someone

Respects women 100%. There is nothing he wouldn’t do to help any woman in need. If they need something from the top shelf, he’ll get it for them. If he is approaching a door with a woman behind him, you bet he opens the door and steps aside to let her in first. If he’s at the lunch table and one of his friends that’s a girl comes to sit down, he will offer up his seat or help her push in her seat. And lord, if he ever sees a girl crying you can bet he will drop everything he is doing to help her out. He will be her shoulder to cry on or let her vent all her frustrations to him, giving her advice where need be and if she asks for it.

However, Hattatsu is actually shy around girls most of the time too. I think it’s pretty safe to say that Hattatsu — well, the Seijin 4 in general — is a heartthrob and he often gets love letters and confessions from different girls and even boys and he just gets so flustered. Each time he gets one his face outmatches the color of roses and tomatoes by a landslide. Even the tips of his ears and neck turn a deep scarlet color with each and every love confession he receives.

Around boys, he’s just very stiff and nods. He really doesn’t know what to do when guys confess to him. He knows girls are a lot more soft and fragile than men are and knows how to deal with them, but he is completely clueless on what to do when guys confess.

Hattatsu is also rather talented. He has a lot of hidden talents that not even his mother knows about. A few of his many hidden talents are that he can balance anything perfectly, he knows lots of random facts on any topic, and he can make himself cry on command.

He can speak four languages (Japanese, Korean, English, and French) and is learning German and Italian currently.

He can speak a little too fast at times too, and it really messes up his sentences and he gets slightly embarrassed about it. When he rolls over his words because he’s speaking too fast, he stops himself, takes in a deep breath before starting his sentence over.

He also slips into German sometimes when he’s excited or angry or experiencing any type of intense emotion. He gets a little embarrassed about that too, but he gets over it a lot faster since people are usually amazed by it.

He works out on a daily basis without fail. From the time school is out until 6pm he is in the gym, cranking iron until his shirt is sweat soaked. He wants to be able to mold and strengthen his body so he can create and later perfect his ultimate move which involves him carrying an object he has made bigger. His muscles are huge and his chest has been chiseled by Apollo himself and his abs could great even the hardest of diamonds. Dude looks good.

But… he is a little self conscious about his body, mainly his nipples because they’re a very pink and he feels like they stand out too much.

He actually wears a fundoshi unironically. He just thinks they suit him a lot better and they keep everything protected. However, he does wear boxers when he is at home.

He’ll never let anyone find out but his mom buys all of his underwear for him. You didn’t hear this from me.

His eyesight is slightly poor. He can’t really see things that are far away so he has to wear contacts when he’s at school or during training/combat. However, when he is at home, he wears prescription glasses. His mother thinks that his glasses suit him and he looks a lot like his father with them on.

The biggest dog lover out there! If there is a dog anywhere near him, he will rush right over to the dogs owner and ask if he can pet it. You know that one video where the guy is petting a cat and he says “it takes a pet like no problem”? That’s Hattatsu with dogs.

He likes fluffy pillows bye

When he was younger, he didn’t really know much about cooking and would often burn foods, but he’s gotten a lot better and has perfected many dishes. Everyone that tries his food loves it and he will often do requests that his friends have and bring it to school for them. He is also a really good baker and will bake for his friends (mostly his mother) quite often.

His taste in music goes from hard core punk rock to classical scores.

He rolls his “R”s a lot. Either when he’s speaking a different language or when he’s worried and scared.

He has the patience of a God which adds onto his Dad role. He has a few baby cousins and they love him so much. They often want him to play with them and ask him a whole bunch of questions and not once does he ever get annoyed or snap at them. He just lets them ask questions after question and he answers them without issue!

In general he is just very good with kids and loves playing with him. He wants to have a big family and be able to play with them often.

He has a stuffed bear named Hano-Chan since he was a kid and he is not afraid to let people see it. Hano-Chan has been his favorite thing forever and he will not be embarrassed if someone asks him about it. However, if anything ever happens to sweet Hano-chan, he would flip out. The Bear was a gift from his father and he’d be damned if anything happened to it.

He puts a lot of focus into his hair without realizing it. When he’s not in his uniform, he likes to style his hair in a spiky and unkempt look that really suits him. There are points of hair all around his head with some loose strands falling in front of his face. He buys a lot of gel and conditioning products and has several different types of combs that he uses to style his hair.

He actually does a lot of self care and hygienic things. He likes to keep himself fresh and smelling good because he doesn’t want to stain everything he touches with the smell of sweat. He showers twice a day and uses Bulgari soap to give him that manly smell. He also uses unscented shampoo because he doesn’t want to have clashing scents on him. He makes sure his nails and teeth are always clean and makes sure not to touch his face too much to avoid acne.

He also does a lot of the House chores and lets his mother rest whenever he gets the chance. Things like laundry, gardening, washing the dishes, feeding and washing the dog, and other general House cleaning duties are all the things he does in his free time to help take the burden off his mother’s shoulders.

He can play the piano really well. He started learning when he was younger and was pretty good at it then, but now he is even better. He plays a lot for his mother when she is reading or when she is feeling down.

Boyfriend:

He is such a sweet boyfriend. Like I said, he is a complete gentleman and really only ever wants what is best for you. He will go to the ends of the earth for you if it means your happiness.

He opens doors for you, pushes in your chair, gets you random flowers every other day, makes you lunch, anything that puts a smile on your face.

He is a little nervous when it comes to physical affection. He doesn’t exactly know where he should and shouldn’t touch and he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries you may have by touching you somewhere you don’t like. He always asks before he touches or holds you, wanting to make sure it’s okay with you first.

However, if you’re the one that wants to be close and physically affectionate, he’ll let you do so without issue. You can just come up to him randomly and wrap your arms and legs around him and he’ll just accept it, setting downs whatever he may have had in his hands and holding you to him until you’ve had your fill.

He loves holding your hand and kissing your forehead though. He thinks it’s one of the most innocent and intimate gestures of affection there are and he just lives for it. His favorite times to hold your hand are when you’re walking together or cuddling. It just makes him so warm inside because he just wants to be connected and close to you at all times.

He is the type of boyfriend to not really understand a lot of girl things, but tries his best. If you send him out for tampons/pads, chances are he might get the wrong brand/size but he tried his best and he’s really sorry about it so you can’t even be mad at him. And please don’t ask him about makeup because he knows absolutely nothing about it. One day you asked him to buy you a beauty blender and he bought a literal blender and said “I don’t know how this is going to help but here it is. Please mind the blades when you use it, babe”

During the winter you shall never be cold because he offers many if not all of his hoodies and sweatshirts to you to wear. Your closet is ¾ your clothes and ¼ Hattatsu’s hoodies/sweatshirts. He just doesn’t want you to get sick and his clothes are just big and trap a lot of heat in them and he wants you to have em… and it may also be because he really likes seeing you in his clothes. His hoodies reach to your knees and your arms can barely poke out of the arms and he just thinks it’s adorable.

He will always let you sleep on him if you need it. All you have to do is ask and he will bring you onto his lap, your chest against his with your arms and legs wrapped around him and your head in the crook of his neck. He’ll even take of the shirt he is wearing to drape it around you as a form of blanket because like I said, baby doesn’t want you to be cold or get sick.

Hattatsu will almost always go along with any date plan you have as long as it doesn’t involve anything too dangerous. If you want to go smirking at the beach, he’s game but sets up a lot of precautions. If you want to go to a movie, sure thing, but just let him pay for everything. If you want to go to a cafe, he’s totally down, but let him get the food and pay for your drinks at the very least.

Speaking of dates, the ones he plans are always so… amazing and whimsical. Like on your first date, he took you for an evening picnic with food that he and his mother made together. He would have secured a park bench for you both and dressed it in a nice table cloth and even brought some mason jar fairy lights to help illuminate the table for when it got darker. The food and the scenery and the time of Day was just so perfect. You swear you were in like some fairy forest eating food made of wild fresh herbs, spices, and fruits.

However, your favorite date with him (which is something you guys do quite often now) is when he took you in his truck to a large field of grass and flowers. There, he had let you frolic in the grass and flowers whilst he took pictures of you and soon set up a photo timer system so that he could join you and still capture more moments. Afterwards, he told you he had another part to your date and asked that you stay in the front of the truck whilst he bustled about behind it. Eventually he came to get you and showed you what he had been doing and it was breathtaking. He had laid the bed of the truck with a thick duvet and on it lay his computer, some popcorn, chocolate, flowers, and some more fairy light fixtures and pillows. On his computer was a downloaded version of your favorite movie. You both watched the movie and eat happily, laying together on the bed of the truck before stargazing once the movie was over.

You can’t tell me that he doesn’t have a WIP scrapbooks he’s been working on since your second date. It had pictures of both you and him together, doing different things with smiles on your faces and cute little filters on some of the pictures as well. As time goes on, I’m sure he would have at least three scrapbooks made, one for you and him both, one for you that he keeps himself, and for him that he’s given to you.

He calls you the cutest nicknames ever: “Sweetpea, love muffin, gumdrop, sweetie, love, pumpkin, joy, bright eyes, babe/baby, sweet cheeks, angle cakes.” And the best thing about these names is that he doesn’t do so to be sickeningly sweet, he just genuinely likes those names for you. He’ll even say them in different languages sometimes as well. Also, he really likes for you to call him sweet nicknames as well, but his all time favorite is “Bear”. When you call him that his knees go weak and his heart thrums against his chest like the wings of a hummingbird.

Speaking of languages, he likes to speak to you in the ones he knows fluently. He does so when he’s being really sweet and affectionate or when he wants you to learn the language along with him.

He gets rather jealous sometimes. He trusts you completely, but he doesn’t trust other people. You’re a huge catch, you’re perfect and beautiful and anyone with any type of sense would want to be with you, so when someone talks you up and tries to flirt with you, he just… boils where he stands and glares at the person flirting with you before going over and getting between the two of you.

And don’t get me started on how protective he is of you. If there is any kind of inconvenience or danger near you, you are behind him so that he can take the full force of any attack. He doesn’t know what he would do if you were the one to get hurt. He will carry you if your hurt or if there is a puddle on the floor and he will most definitely sacrifice his life for you too.

You guys have sleepover saturdays too. You you dress up in animal themed onesies (him in a Brown Bear onesie and you in a puppy onesie) and you both camp out on his couch and watch movies and shows and talk to one another well into the night before getting to bed, cuddled up against one another.

He is the most understanding boyfriend ever. It might be a little angering just how understanding he is but he just doesn’t want any conflict between you two. Fights are a rarity and if one ever does arise between you both, he will do everything he can to understand your side of your argument and bring it to a mutual close before it escalates to anything.

He hardly ever cries but every time you wear a dress the tears just flow down his cheeks before he even knows what’s happening. You just look so beautiful and pure and it takes the breath from his lungs.

He will also cry during moments in which you two are both peaceful and close. Like it’ll be the middle of the night and you two are in his kitchen, your feet on top of his as you both dance. He’ll break out in silent tears because he’s just so happy to be in a situation like this with you.

He texts you quite a lot. He just loves to keep in contact with you, checking up on you throughout the day, sending you wholesome love memes, and pictures of himself to you. Actually that’s something he does very often. It’ll be during random times of the day when you get a picture message of Hattatsu, smiling into the camera with a caption that says “Hey, starshine. How’re you doing today? I’m about to go to the gym but I’ll chat with you later. I hope you’ve had enough water and food today. Let me know if you want me to come over.” You have to save all of his pictures because they’re honestly just so cute and handsome and you swoon at each one.

Hattatsu is also the type of boyfriend that likes to video call when you guys are a distance away. Say you’re on vacation in whatever country and he’s stuck in Japan, he’ll set up times in which you both can video chat and talk to each other about how your vacations are going or anything you feel like talking about.

He brings you food a lot. He knows all your favorite restaurants and food vendors and is aware of all the snacks and foods you favor more. You’ll be chilling at home or in your dorm room and suddenly hear a knock on your door and it’s just Hattatsu with bags of chocolate, chicken nuggets, fries, milkshakes, and a few cookies. He just likes to know you’re eating and even if it’s not the healthiest foods, he’s just comforted that it makes you happy and that you appreciate what he does for you.

He actually also invites you to a lot of dinners at his house with his mom. All three of you would be in the kitchen cooking and talking and having a good old time together before sitting at the table to eat everything.

To be honest, even though he is a bit of a health nut, he won’t ever push you to eat healthy and work out like he does unless you want to and ask him yourself. If you do want to lose weight or get in shape and you come to him for advice and help, he will gladly do so, but he won’t ever put too much pressure on you or be annoying with his motivation.

Working out with him is actually a lot of fun because he listens to music that really gets your blood pumping and makes you want to move.

He becomes like a mother hen when you get sick, doting on your every need and doing whatever he can to make you feel better and get you back to your full health. At school, he’ll go to all of your classes and ask your friends and teachers for all the notes you’re missing and when he finally gets to you at home in bed, he’s making you soup, reading your notes for you, changing the towel on your head and making sure you’re the perfect temperature.

NSFW Headcanons Below:

Home boy has a big dick, okay? 6 inches of uncircumcised and pure power and boy is it thick. He has a lot of noticeable and very sensitive veins on his cock and it drives him completely crazy when you run your tongue on them. His head is blunt and wide but you’re thankful for it because if his head was any smaller, it would hurt a lot to get his shaft in you because that thin is thick!!!! His cock has a lot of darker pink tones, kind of making it look as though it should belong to an older man but it really suits him.

He doesn’t have much pubic hair and usually shaves it down. He thinks that it gets in the way and adds drag to his movements. However, when he goes through periods in which he doesn’t shave, his pubic hair gets really thick and coarse and he even has a little happy trail.

Okay, so Hattatsu has no experience at all. Sweetie doesn’t even know what a vagina looks like, I shit you not. He grew up his entire life never having seen a single vagina but when he does see one he is pleasantly surprised.

However, he has taken some Family Life classes so he knows how sex works, but he’s just… very embarrassed about it.

He doesn’t masturebate often either. Dude is practically a saint. He gets horny quite a lot but he just can’t bring himself to touch himself most of the time, especially when his mother is in the house.

When he does masturbate though, he likes to take his time, Giving his shaft slow, long strokes that has him gasping for air every time his fist reaches to the tip of his cock and squeezes.

Boy does he love playing with his balls. They’re extremely sensitive and are always so full. He has to bite down on his pillow or hand or anything he can reach to stifle his moans because it just feels so damn good.

Also… he cums a lot. Like a lot a lot. Like the first time he ever came, he was extremely panicked because he had made such a huge mess. There was a huge stain on his bed and a mess of his cum on his shirt and legs. He nearly had a heart attack and his mother was very confused when she saw him washing his sheets so early in the morning.

He prefers masturbating in the shower, leaning against the wall and jerking himself off as the hot water beats down on his body. But when he masturbates on his bed, he likes to do so on his hands and knees, using one hand to hold him up as the other jerks himself off. He makes sure to keep a towel or something to catch everything once he reaches orgasm though.

When it comes to actual sex, he’s very awkward and makes a lot of mistakes the first couple of times.

When he first sees you naked, he’s a bit stunned and just doesn’t know what to say, so for a while he’s just staring at you with his mouth gaping open and his hardon bobbing in satisfaction at the sight before him. It made you extremely nervous and self conscious so eventually you just called things off because you couldn’t take it. He made sure to apologize and explain himself though.

When it came to attempt number two of having sex, he let you take the majority of the lead, letting you instruct him as to where he could put his hands, where and how you liked to be touched, and basically just how to properly please you without being too awkward.

But man… man oh man, is this boy just in awe of your body. You’re just so beautiful to him and he can’t help but stop and stare at your body below or above him.

He eventually becomes a lot more used to your body and how everything works and turns into a very sensual and gentle lover. All his actions are full of love and are light but leave such an intense and intimate burn on your skin. Sex with him will always have you gasping and moaning and clutching him close because a moment without his touch would just be too unbearable.

He is a huge titty man. It doesn’t matter what size your boobs are, he just loves how cute and round they look and will always want to touch and hold them (with your permission). He won’t really say it out loud, but you’ll be sure to pick up on just how much he likes your breasts because he pays a lot of attention to them, always marveling at them, gliding his rough fingers along your nipples and in between them. And if the way he sucks on them isn’t a dead giveaway too, then I don’t know what else is.

When he sucks on your nipples, he does so calmly, slowly, letting his mouth encase the hard bud and giving it long sucks that draws the best moans from you. However, he gives off a few moans himself too because he’s just so pleased by the way they feel and taste in his mouth.

At first, he is pretty vanilla too. He didn’t think kinks were necessary for sex, but he would comply with whatever you want to do as long as it isn’t too extreme. But after you showed him some kinks and different things, he found that he started liking them.

Things like spanking, praise, nipple play, and orgasm denial really excite him. It’s never anything too heavy, but whenever he does it he feels himself growing closer and closer to his release.

He also really like having music playing in the background. Things that are slow or warpy or have really intense beats really get him into the mood of things. Some examples of songs he’d bang to are Never Be Like You by Flume, Champagne and Sunshine by Tarro, and Quick Music Doodles by Two Feet.

He has really sensitive nipples. They’re a bright pink and sensitive and there is hardly ever a time when they aren’t hard and perky. If you play with hem or even do so much as graze your fingers over when when having sex, he’ll melt.

Hickies are another thing he really enjoys, mainly receiving. He likes that you want to mark him as yours, to let everyone know that he is taken and that no one else can have him. He will wear his hickies or any other sex induced mark you give him with pride (just as long as his mama doesn’t see em)

He really likes the missionary position or any position that lets him see your face. He wants sex to be an intimate and close experience between the both of you and doing it in the missionary position is perfect for that. Other positions would be like spooning, you on top, or with his legs crossed and you on top.

Hattatsu is kind of bad at giving oral but he tries his best. He’s just awfully sloppy and doesn’t know how to multitask down there, but if you guide and help him a bit, he can get the job done nicely.

He won’t ever say it lest he sound like some pervert, but he really loves receiving head and cumming on your chest. He knows he cums a lot and that it will be kind of gross but he just… really wants to do it. If you ever allow him to and continue to allow him to, he will enjoy it so much.

His moans are so deep and low but he doesn’t do it very often. He’ll let out those sexy moans every so often and you’ll want to do everything in your power to have him make more of that sweet sexy noise.

#tsūrunaka hattatsu #Hattatsu tsurunaka #bnha #bnha oc #but not really though #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia OC #bnha hattatsu #bnha tsurunaka #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios

48 notes · View notes