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yanderesleepybutwriting · 4 years

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Pain Without Love || UshiTen x Reader

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Pairing: Ushijima x Reader | Tendou x Reader

Summary: Soulmates meant to find each other with a link, bound by pain. Tendou and Ushijima thought they had it easy when they found out they were each other's soulmates. Until they started finding injuries not caused by either of them. It turned out a piece was missing from their puzzle. You.

Notes: This started off so small and I just couldn’t stop. I have no explanation. Just poly yandere Ushijima and Tendou here for you.

[Part Two]

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When Wakatoshi and Tendou first met, they thought the search for their soulmate was over. It wasn’t hard to figure out. The pain they shared constantly lined up. The stinging on their arms and hands from constant blocking and receiving. Whenever Tendou got hurt, Ushijima felt it, and vice versa. It couldn’t have been easier. Until one day, Tendou skipped out on practice to take a test after school, while Ushijima stayed and worked with the rest of the team in the gym.

Ushijima was mid serve when suddenly he felt a random pain on both his hands and knees, causing him to swing too late and miss the ball completely. While his teammates poked fun and teased him, Ushijima’s thoughts went to his other half.

He must have fallen.

There was no more pain after that, so Ushijima assumed he was fine and returned his attention back to the court. It wasn’t until he met up with Tendou after practice, that he brought it up.

“Tendou, you should be more careful. I can’t focus on practicing if you keep getting hurt. It’s distracting.”

Tendou looked up at his partner confused. “What do you mean? I thought that was you.”

And then it clicked. The boy’s eyes shot up to one another, sharing the same shocked, yet knowing expression. They weren’t done. Not by a long shot. There was a piece missing from their otherwise perfect puzzle.

You.

“How could we not realize sooner!? We’re the worst soulmates ever. They’re out there right now, Waka!”

“I’m sure they’re fine. We’ll find them.” Ushijima tried to reason with his frantic partner. This news was definitely a shock to the both of them, and while Tendou grew more agitated, wanting to find you as soon as possible, Ushijima remained calm and collected, going for a more reasonable approach. “We just have to wait. They’re our soulmate after all. They’ll come into our lives sooner or later.”

What they hoped would be sooner, turned out to be later. Much later. Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months, and eventually months turned into years, with still no sign of you. The only reassurance they got were random pains brought on throughout the day. A small reminder that you were still out there. That you were still waiting. And it was driving them both crazy.

The older they grew, the more desperate they grew. While Ushijima remained calm, knowing one day they would find you, Tendou grew angrier, unsatisfied until he had you. It wasn’t until a few years after they knew you were out there that they found you when they were least expecting it.

There was a competition for a few of the schools in the area. Boys teams, girls teams, high schools to colleges. If you played volleyball, you were welcome to compete and improve your skills. And while their school wasn’t participating, they thought it was a good idea to watch and scope out the competition.

The boys watched intently at the matches before them, making small comments of improvement as the players went on. Neither was a school that either of them had ever heard of, but they still watched with interest.

“Next up, we have a boys vs girls match-” The announcer began, but Tendou didn’t wait to listen. Already starting to get bored he began leaning over to Ushijima.

“Wanna head out after this match? It’s getting kind of late.”

Ushijima said nothing. Only nodded before turning his attention back onto the court. Both teams showed promise. Giving it their all to throw back every ball hit their way.

“Hey, their wing spiker’s not half bad,” Tendou praised.

“He has power, yes. But no control. Only about 20% of his spikes actually make it within the boundaries.”

As if to prove Ushijima’s point, the spiker hit another ball, this time right into one of the opposing players’ faces. While most of the crowd cried out in shock and worry. Ushijima and Tendou cried out for a completely different reason. They cried out in pain. As soon as the ball made contact with your face, the two boys felt it, as if they had gotten hit as well.

“Ow, ow, ow… fuck! That hurts.” Tendou cried out, palm placed over the side of his face where you got hit. Ushijima was more silent, while still in just as much pain, he was less vocal and just groaned. Wincing and hoping the stinging would die down a bit as the seconds passed. As realization sunk in, both of their heads shot up to make sure you were okay.

They panicked slightly seeing you curled up on the floor, your teammates and coaches gathered around to make sure you were okay. When you finally stood up, they released a breath they didn’t even realize they were holding as relief flooded through their bodies. You were okay, they reassured themselves. After a short huddle with your team, and what looked like a lot of arguing on your end, you walked back onto the court as if nothing had happened, and continued on with your match.

“They’re not going to check in with the nurse before continuing?” Tendou shouted out, confused by your rash actions. “Why is their coach letting them continue? They need to be checked out. They could have serious injuries.”

“Maybe, they’re okay to continue.”

“You and I both know they’re not okay. Fuck, it still hurts. How can you even focus on a game when you’re in this much pain? It’s obvious they don’t know when to quit, Waka.”

Ushijima was never one to laugh as often as others, but he had to admit it was slightly amusing to him, watching Tendou worry about you so early on. They hadn’t even met you yet, but he was already scolding you for not taking better care of yourself. He’s not going to lie, Ushijima is also concerned, just not as vocal about it as Tendou is. He couldn’t help but worry at the thought of you being hurt, it wasn’t his fault. The three of your soul connections were strong. He was certain that you were the one. They both were, and they couldn’t wait to finally meet you.

As soon as your match ended. Both men made their way to the gym doors to greet you upon your exit. For a second they thought they were too late. Finding no sign of you, or your team. Luckily their height had its advantages as they were easily able to look over everyone until they spotted you stopped at a water fountain further down the hall.

You continued drinking, completely oblivious to the two giants that stood towering behind you. Patiently waiting for you to finish up. When you did finish, taking a deep inhale to catch your breath, and quickly wiping the spare liquid off of your lips, you were more than surprised when you turned around. Being caught completely off guard, by the two intimidating strangers.

Ushijima was the first of them to speak up. Probably picking up on your slight confusion and looking to calm your nerves.

“That was a great game you played. My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi.” He spoke up, extending his arm. You smiled, giving his hand a quick shake and responding with your own name. His hand was much larger in comparison to your own. After introducing himself, he motioned to the redheaded man next to him, “This is-”

“Satori Tendou,” the man cut in, “That was one nasty hit you took out there, shorty,” Tendou smirked, leaning down a bit so you were making direct eye contact. “How’s your head feeling?”

“Oh, it didn’t hurt as bad as it looked,” you laughed, embarrassingly rubbing at the back of your neck. Both men gave each other a quick glance, each one thinking the same thing. Liar.

“Thank you for your concern,” You bowed, “but if you’ll excuse me, I should get back to my team. Our next match will be starting soon.” As you went to dash off in the direction of your court, you were pulled to a halt when Ushijima’s hand wrapped around your arm, holding you firmly in place.

“You shouldn’t jump back into the game so soon. You need time to heal and make sure you don’t have a concussion. Let us walk you to the nurse’s office.”

You were caught off guard by this stranger’s interest in your well being but ignored it. Chopping it up to him just being a nice guy. “I really am okay. Thank you. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

Again with the lies. They knew it still hurt. Fuck, they still felt the pain from where the ball made contact with your face. It slightly diminished from the beginning, but it was definitely still there.

“Listen. If you get checked out, and the nurse gives you the green light, then we promise to let it go. Plus, you won’t do your team any good if you play with a head injury. You’ll only hold them back, so it would be better for everyone if you just play it safe. The faster you get checked out, the faster you’ll get to jump back onto the court. You can trust us. We’ve been in the game for a while, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t gotten a few balls to the head myself,” Tendou joked.

You stood quiet, glancing at the ground as the two men stood patiently awaiting your response. You sure were a stubborn one.

“Okay.” You nodded, allowing the two to lead you in the direction of the nurse’s office.

“Wasn’t really a choice, but we appreciate your cooperation nonetheless.”

The office wasn’t too filled, so you actually got helped faster than you thought you would. Which was great since you were eager to get back on the court.

“Any head pain?” The nurse asked sweetly. To which you shook your head.

You heard the sound of someone clearing their throat and looked over to see Ushijima and Tendou looking over at you sternly from the corner.

“Umm… maybe a little.” You corrected, sheepishly.

The old lady smiled. “Okay, hun. Can you do me a favor and hop up and try to walk in a straight line for me?”

You got up. Following her directions and trying your best to walk as straight as possible, but found yourself losing your balance ever so slightly.

“Alright, go ahead and take a seat for me again, and I’m going to check your pupils real quick.” The second the light met your eyes you felt yourself flinching away, finding the small flashlight to be almost blinding.

“Well, I think that settles it, my dear.” The woman frowned. “It seems you have a slight concussion, but don’t stress too much. Nothing some over the counter pain meds and rest can’t fix. Unfortunately, that does mean no volleyball for at least a few days. Your brain is going to need some time to recover and we can’t have you worsening your injuries.”

You didn’t even look over at the two boys, already knowing a look of ‘I told you so,’ would be clear across their faces. It really sucked that one good hit would take you out of the game. Especially since you were really hoping to get the practice in with competitions starting up again soon. You hung your head low, making your way out of the office, and heading back to the gym.

“Where are you going?” A deep voice questioned from close behind.

“Back to the gym. Even if I can’t participate. I still want to cheer them on.”

“Did you even listen to what the nurse said?” Tendou sighed, clearly frustrated by your lack of ability to follow directions.

“I did, but I’ll be fine! I don’t even feel the pain anymore,” You argued.

“Why do you keep on lying to us? We know it still hurts. We feel it.”

You froze. Looking back and forth between the two men as the weight of their words slowly began sinking in. “...you both...the two of you…”

“Yes, we know this must be a shock Y/N, and your concussion probably isn’t making this any easier for you,” Ushijima began, before Tendou came in. Abruptly cutting him off.

“But we are your soulmates. So there’s no point in trying to cover up your pain because we know how you feel.”

You definitely weren’t expecting this when you woke up. You knew you would find your soulmate eventually, but you weren’t expecting to have two. Sure it’s not unheard of. In fact, you’ve seen quite a few people with more than one soulmate, but that being said, you never thought that you would be one of them as well. Especially not now.

You didn’t have time for a relationship. Not when you're gaining such a steady momentum in your volleyball progress. Plus you were never a big believer in soulmates, to begin with. When you were younger, sure. Who didn’t dream of getting swept away by their future love? But as you grew older, reality started coming more into light, and you learned that however bright one's love can glow, it can also go completely dark just as quickly.

You’ve even seen it happen to one of your friend’s first hand. They were so happy when they found their soulmate, they looked like they were on top of the world. But as time progressed, their soulmate fell in love with someone else, and their once unbreakable love for one another slowly began getting chipped away at with every small fight. Until both of their hearts completely shattered. It hurt you to see them go through that, and you never wanted it to happen to you.

“Y/N?” Ushijima questioned

“I-I’m sorry. Did you say something? I spaced out there for a second.”

“Umm,” Your soulmates shared a look of concern as they glanced over at you, “I think it would be best if we took you home. You don’t look too well.”

Of course, you didn’t look well. Your head was pounding and you just found out that these two men you thought were strangers are actually your soulmates. You were surprised that you were still managing to stand considering how badly your head was spinning with this new information.

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t feel comfortable going home with two strange men, I’ve only just met.”

“Strange men?” Tendou repeated, sounding shocked and slightly offended, by the use of your words, “Were not just some strange men. We’re your soulmates!”

Tendou was starting to get frustrated. While he and Ushijima were in a panic trying to find you, you seemed completely unfazed by the arrival of your soulmates. Were you ever even looking for them?

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m not looking to find my soulmates. The main focus in my life right now is volleyball, and school, so I have no interest in, or the time for forming a relationship at the moment. I think it would be best if you just forget you ever met me. I’m sorry, but at least you have each other, right? Isn’t that enough?”

Your words felt like a punch to the gut. How could you brush them aside so casually? Did they really mean so little to you?

...No, this wasn’t you. You weren’t thinking straight after that hit to the head. You don’t know what you want. You don’t know what you need.

“You’re right. We understand.” Ushijima lied, gripping Tendou’s shoulder so he would play along. “However, with your concussion, it would be far safer if you let us take you home,” Ushijima tried to reason.

“I’m telling you, I’m okay!” You tried to explain, turning to head back to your team, but you barely made it a few steps before losing your balance. You didn’t connect with the floor. Ushijima and Tendou not even giving you the chance before they were each at your side. Holding you upright.

“I’m sorry,” Tendou teased, the smirk he wore, obvious in his tone, even without looking at him. “You were saying what exactly?”

“Y/N, we just want to make sure you get home safely. We won’t even go inside if that’s what you’re afraid of. We’ll just walk you to your porch.”

You felt hesitant, but at the same time maybe it was for the best. Your teammates we’re already in the middle of a game, and there was no way you would feel okay with stealing one of them away to take you home. You also wouldn’t feel comfortable taking the train or bus home this late. Especially with your concussion leaving you extra vulnerable. Maybe letting them take you home was the best option.

“Okay.” Your soulmates grinned, and after you shot your teammates a text, saying you’d be going home early, you headed in the direction of the parking lot. Ushijima started the car up, while Tendou opened the back door for you, making sure to close it after you were settled.

Maybe this was a dream. A weird long dream. Maybe that ball knocked you unconscious and you're really in the hospital right now. That would somehow make a lot more sense.

“Seatbelt.” Ushijima’s deep voice cut in, snapping your attention back to reality. “You need to put on your seatbelt.”

You obeyed, clicking the belt in place, then giving your address to Tendou so he could type it into his phone.

“Try to get some rest. We’ll wake you when we’re close.”

You didn’t know if it was the concussion or the fact that you played three volleyball matches in a row, but you felt exhausted. Already feeling yourself dozing off as you placed your head against the car door.

As you slept soundly in the back seat, Ushijima and Tendou stayed silent in the front seat so as not to wake you. Your words from earlier echoing through their brain like a broken record stuck on a constant loop.

‘I think it would be best if you just forget you ever met me. I’m sorry, but at least you have each other, right? Isn’t that enough?’

Did you even hear the words coming out of your mouth? Of course, it wasn’t enough. How could they go on with their lives as if they had never found you? They already felt such a strong connection to you, that it would be nearly impossible for the two of them to just forget about you completely. Yet, you say it so casually. As if it would be so simple to just walk away. But what you were asking for was just not in the cards. They needed you. And you needed them. You just didn’t know it yet. But that’s okay. They could help you realize just how much you needed them too.

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hekatepoetryxxwriting · 3 years

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Experiments in Writing: A Critique of Creative Work Within Queering, Feminism, and the Work of Sigmund Freud

For my creative work that I undertook in this module, I chose to focus on the idea of Queering. As well as this, I found myself influenced by the theories and works of Sigmund Freud[1], as well as using several feminist texts, both literary and theoretical, to try and establish a connection between the three ideas within my writing. Due to the essay Freud wrote on The Uncanny[2], he theories and ideas are already heavily tied to gothic literature as a whole, which made connecting him to my work a lot easier. I focused on short stories based upon fairy tales and attempted to alter the narrative of each of the original texts to suit the concept I had come up with. Based upon some of the work from lessons, I used a form of metalepsis[3]within my stories, trying to shift the perception of gender and sexuality within a gothic literate format. I was inspired to take this route by one of my favourite authors, a feminist writer called Angela Carter[4]. Her work in The Bloody Chambers and Other Stories[5] was a major source of inspiration for my work and helped me to develop my writing format and style throughout this module. I chose to focus my work on these theories as I felt that they were somewhat contradictory of one another, and I felt that the juxtaposition of these ideas would help to elevate my writing towards something outside of the usual style I worked in.

For my first creative piece, a short story titled The Wolves in the Woods, I wanted to focus mostly on several of Freud’s most infamous theories. The creative work itself was heavily inspired by a short story written by Angela Carter called The Company of Wolves[6]. I had read this story during college and found the way she addressed gender play and sexuality a fascinating plot device. Not only this, but the way that she would take fairytales that were commonly known amongst readers and adjusted the story to appeal to a wider feminist reading. I agree that a lot of fairytales have subtle sexist undertones that usually place women and men in specific boxes, and I enjoyed reading Carter’s reimagining of this.

Because of the theories I had been researching for the module, I found that writing influences like Carter were juxta-positioned with theories like Freud. One of the main theories I hoped to translate into creative work was the three agents of Freud’s idea of the psyche, often referred to as the ‘id, ego, and super-ego’[7]. As Freud explains, the id ‘contains everything that is inherited, that is present at birth, is laid down in the constitution — above all, therefore, the instincts, which originate from the somatic organization, and which find a first psychical expression here (in the id) in forms unknown to us’[8]. The ego and super-ego, on the other hand, represented the more intelligent side of humans, made of ideas like common sense and cultural norms and opinions taught to children by their parents and the society they live in. This concept of basic instinct versus the laws of society was something I could instantly connect to the gothic literature of Carter, as well as feminism and Queering due to their association with being historically against society’s idea of normal.

When I began to plot out my creative work, I realised that the entire concept of a werewolf was a literary device for man’s inner turmoil between instinct and reason, aka the id and the ego/super-ego. I attempted to flout the tropes of romance writing by presenting a werewolf who, unlike many other fictional interpretations, does not ignore the basic animalist instincts for his love interest. Rather, they compromise, accepting equal shares of idand ego, whilst completely casting aside the rules society sets, therefore ignoring the concept of the super-ego. By casting aside the rules that are hinted at through the story, the protagonist is freed, as shown by the ending of the story being ‘amongst the howls beseeching the night, was a woman’s cries of joy entering the chorus’[9].

Throughout the beginning of the story, the structure of the super-ego is important to the world-building of the setting. Another of Freud’s theories that I used for my first creative piece was the Madonna-Whore complex, which suggests that women either fit the role of the pure virginal wife, or the corrupted succubus. The implication of the theory is that women can only be one or the other, with the Madonna being the ‘preferred’ female archetype. In The Wolves in the Woods I allowed my protagonist to undergo a narrative transformation using the Queering literary device metalepsis. Judith Butler’s point on metalepsis helped to carve the character development in my work through her statement that ‘the performativity of gender revolves around this metalepsis… performativity is not a singular act, but a repetition, a ritual’[10]. Through my first creative piece, I tried to show a progression from a Madonna-like character to someone who embodies the whore, which is summed up by the end of my story in a paragraph ‘She is not the trodden women of the village, with their heads wrapped in silk, hidden from men and from the world. Now she sits upon the lap of the wolf, who stares at her with pupils blown wide, ears open and perked’ [11]and separates her from the other women, transforming her in just two sentences and completing the metalepsis.

However, this is not the only instance of metalepsis in this story. Whilst this is more of a metaphorical sense of metalepsis, the actual idea of a werewolf is a physical form of this literary device. This was another way of connecting the two characters. They both undergo some form of transformation and simultaneously must learn to adapt due to their place in the world. To make this clearer, I used repetition in the way they were described to further suggest the idea that their roles in society were different. These sentences, ‘Lycanthrope: the ability to shift, to transform, to adapt’ and ‘Woman: the ability to shift, to transform, to adapt’ were written this way because they also implied that both Lycanthrope and Woman were ‘things’ rather than people.

A major point to the majority of my stories was taking traditional gender roles within fairy tales and adjusting the narrative around them, which is one of the entire concepts behind the literary device of metalepsis. I did research on masculinity within fairy tales[12]- and gothic literature in general- and found a few feminist articles that discussed how these male characters were influenced by the masculine ideals of the time, and how it affects the narrative of the novels they appear in as a whole[13]. An essay by Alice Neikirk found evidence that ‘Rather than being a mere reflection of societal ideals, these fairytales perpetuate Christian, patriarchal concepts as a means of maintaining the gender hierarchy’[14]. I find that exploring fairytales through Freudian concepts was easy, as a lot of Freud’s theories focused on societal expectations and the way they can shape the human psyche. To an extent, fairytales, including my own, are a prose form of rules and morals set by the society who shares them, usually used as a form of control over children, mainly young girls.

Therefore, when applying psychoanalytical theories to my work, I attempted to subvert some of the typical rules set in fairytales by changing the roles of characters. An example of this is my final story, Eilidh’s Prince, which featured a lesbian romance whereupon one of the characters assumes the role of a man for a brief period. I felt that this was the best choice for the plot because of the symbolism of castration anxiety that is prevalent throughout the story. This is something I made clear when I chose to write the line ‘A fanged rose, a vertical grimace they cower from, lest it bite back’[15]. The idea of castration anxiety[16] is another of Freud’s theories, something he viewed as part of the uncanny. The idea is that men fear castration, perhaps as a punishment for their lust or simply the idea of becoming women, but I attempted to transform this idea by having a woman become a man temporarily, knowing the ‘fanged rose’ was not something she had to fear. I wanted to create a sense of dramatic irony that also came from Carter’s work. One story in particular that inspired me for this was ‘The Erl-King’ where the title character is described as ‘an excellent housewife’[17]. Through this, Carter has transgressed the usual boundaries of gender, and attributes feminine qualities to her male character. I took my version a little more literally and allowed my love interest to dress as a male.

For the other story in my collection, The Fae Prince and The Pomegranate[18], I also had used The Erl-King[19]as my main inspiration. However, unlike my two other pieces, this one was also partially inspired by historical mythology, which is another passion of mine. The mythology I chose to use for my work was the story of Hades, God of the Underworld, and Persephone[20]. Greek Mythology lends itself to fairytales as they could technically be considered a tale of their own time. Not only this, but I find that the nature of the Celtic myth of Fae is similar to the rules of the Underworld according to Greek accounts of Hades and Persephone. The main rule that comes to mind between both is that eating in their respective territories, according to legends, will force the victim to remain there forever. However in doing my research I found that certain myths suggest that Persephone had in face willingly gone to the Underworld, hence her name changing from Kore (meaning ‘the maiden’) to Persephone, which means ‘the bringer of death’[21]. The use of the pomegranate as a way of tying the Prince to the mortal girl and by extension her world was my way of applying both Fae rules and still using the mythology that I had used to construct the story’s foundations.

In conclusion, I enjoyed using these theories and influences to create my stories. I found that the use of experimental ideas and writing gave me more freedom than the usual styles I had been writing in. Comparing feminism and queering with the likes of Freud proved to be quite a challenge, but I feel that it paid off, as I have been able to create an unusual set of stories heavily inspired by authors’ works that I have long looked up to as gothic fantasy literature with heavy symbolism and use of metaphors and euphemisms that made the stories more interesting.

[1] Martin Evan Jay, "Sigmund Freud | Biography, Theories, Works, & Facts", Encyclopedia Britannica <https://www.britannica.com/biography/Sigmund-Freud> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [2] Sigmund Freud, The Uncanny (London: Penguin Books, 1919). [3] "Metalepsis - Definition And Examples Of Metalepsis", Literary Devices <https://literarydevices.net/metalepsis/> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [4] "Angela Carter", Angelacarter.Co.Uk, 2014 <https://www.angelacarter.co.uk/> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [5] Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber And Other Stories (London: Victor Gollancz Ltd, 1979). [6] Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber And Other Stories (London: Victor Gollancz Ltd, 1979). [7] Saul Mcleod, "Id, Ego, And Superego | Simply Psychology", Simplypsychology.Org, 2019 <https://www.simplypsychology.org/psyche.html#:~:text=According%20to%20Freud%20psychoanalytic%20theory,id%20and%20the%20super%2Dego.> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [8] Sigmund Freud, "An Outline Of Psycho-Analysis", 1940. [9]Shannon Hutton, Experiments CW1 [10] Judith Butler, Performative Acts And Gender Constitution: An Essay In Phenomenology And Feminist Theory (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1988) <https://www.jstor.org/stable/pdf/3207893.pdf> [Accessed 19 April 2021]. [11]Shannon Hutton, Experiments CW1 [12] Alice Neikirk, "...Happily Ever After (Or What Fairytales Teach Girls About Being Women)", Hilo.Hawaii.Edu <https://hilo.hawaii.edu/campuscenter/hohonu/volumes/documents/Vol07x07HappilyEverAfter.pdf> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [13] "Masculinity In Victorian Gothic Novels", Ukessays.Com, 2017 <https://www.ukessays.com/essays/english-literature/masculinity-in-victorian-gothic-novels-english-literature-essay.php> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [14] Alice Neikirk, "...Happily Ever After (Or What Fairytales Teach Girls About Being Women)", Hilo.Hawaii.Edu <https://hilo.hawaii.edu/campuscenter/hohonu/volumes/documents/Vol07x07HappilyEverAfter.pdf> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [15]Shannon Hutton, Experiments CW1 [16] Sigmund Freud, "Freud: On Narcissism", English.Hawaii.Edu <http://www.english.hawaii.edu/criticalink/narc/guide5.html> [Accessed 19 April 2021]. [17] Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber And Other Stories (London: Victor Gollancz Ltd, 1979). [18]Shannon Hutton, Experiments CW1 [19] Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber And Other Stories (London: Victor Gollancz Ltd, 1979). [20] "Myth Of Hades And Persephone", Greek Myths & Greek Mythology <https://www.greekmyths-greekmythology.com/myth-of-hades-and-persephone/> [Accessed 18 April 2021]. [21] "Persephone: Goddess Of Spring And The Underworld", THEOI GREEK MYTHOLOGY <https://www.theoi.com/Khthonios/Persephone.html> [Accessed 20 April 2021].

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miminiac · 4 years

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Korrasami had build up, just maybe not one you identified with and that’s okay...

I am tired of the LGBTQ+ community hating on Legend of Korra (LoK) for not being gay enough. The critique that there wasn’t enough build up is (1) not productive at all and (2) honestly, not true. There was build up. It may not be the build up every LGBTQ+ person will like, and it may not relate to the experience of every person’s coming out, but it was there. Korrasami was something the creators had tossed around as soon as Book 1 (not that they necessarily had permission to do anything about it). Take this quote from Bryan Konietzko’s tumblr post after the finale aired:

As we wrote Book 1, before the audience had ever laid eyes on Korra and Asami, it was an idea I would kick around the writers’ room. At first we didn’t give it much weight, not because we think same-sex relationships are a joke, but because we never assumed it was something we would ever get away with depicting on an animated show for a kids network in this day and age, or at least in 2010. (link)

The post also discusses how Makorra was never meant to be endgame after Book 1. Again, the time LoK was airing was at a point where states were passing laws to actively prevent gay marriage (LoK ended in 2014, legalization of same-sex marriage by supreme court ruling wasn’t until 2015––context is important). Did they actively write a romance in Books 1 and 2, no they did not. However, as many creators and writers, they let the characters lead them and they discovered that Korra and Asami were more than just friends. Again, taken from the same post:

The more Korra and Asami’s relationship progressed, the more the idea of a romance between them organically blossomed for us

So what we have with Korra and Asami is not a planned romantic relationship from the very beginning, however, the characters have been leading them there since the beginning, whether they realized it or not. Now, I am a big fan of Barthes’ “Death of the Author”, so I 100% percent think that viewers/readers have the ability to inject their own narratives and that multiple narratives can coexist. However, the point of this post is to explain why a critique of “wish they did more” is not productive when it comes to discussion of LoK of a piece of LGBTQ+ media representation. Therefore, I turn to the creators to show that there was intent and there was subtext and build up within Book 3 and 4 (as Bryan discusses in his post, please read in full when you have time).

A lot of Korrasami was hidden in subtext, and that happened because of homophobia within the industry, which still exists today. Content creators of LGBTQ+ media continue to have to walk a fine line. Take Noelle Stevenson talking about Catradora:

My big fear was that I would show my hand too early and get told very definitively that I was not allowed to do this

And like with Catradora (though a little easier since Noelle told viewers that every character is a part of the LGBTQ+ community by default unless explicitly stated otherwise), people saw Korrasami from as early as Book 2 (if not Book 1 on a rewatch).

At the time LoK started airing, I still thought I was straight; I still thought I was straight when I was watching the third season and telling my then boyfriend how Korra and Asami were going to be a couple by the end (literally, when they interacted in the first episode of season 3 while Asami taught Korra how to drive, I turned to him and said it; he said they would never do that and it was a pipe dream). I continued to see Korrasami’s friendship build into something romantic (even if the characters themselves were unaware of it).

Come Season 3 Episode 9, where Asami carries away a helpless Korra, mimicking Katara having carried away a helpless Aang. For those who had watched the original series and were big Korrasami shippers, this scene basically made it canon. It could be argued as the point that maybe the friendship switched to something more romantic. The rest of season 3 and all of season 4 only added moments between these two (side note: I came out as bisexual soon after season 4 started airing, though I had been questioning my sexuality probably since the end of season 3).

Now is the Korrasami relationship perfect, absolutely not. Bryke admits as much, but it was a significant step forward. Again, this happened in 2014, so a lot of narrative within media of states passing laws to discriminate against same-sex couples and deny marriage. The hand-holding scene everyone screams about not being enough. Well, they received plenty of homophobic backlash from that.

The critique that they didn’t do enough is not productive. It is a critique that could be said about most main-stream LGBTQ+ media. I get that we are tired of scraps; I get that we are tired of having to read between the lines because creators are still afraid to come out and say it (pun intended). However, to critique LoK as “not being gay enough” ignores the context in which it was created and what that representation meant to many of the viewers (like myself) who were discovering themselves and their sexuality at the time.

Avatar: the Last Airbender (ATLA) was made for 8-13 year olds (from season 1), and I would argue that LoK was made for that same group of people, who would have then been 14-19 years old when LoK first aired. Thus, LoK was being watched by those entering high school and college––a time of self-discovery.

Additionally, a critique that LoK doesn’t do enough leads to an idea that there is “a right way” to create a LGBTQ+ relationship, which I would argue is harmful to the community at large. If you did not identify with Korra’s coming out, that’s completely valid. If you did not identify with the way the Korrasami relationship progressed, that is also valid. But you cannot invalidate the relationship of Korrasami, as a relationship built off a friendship and mutual respect that blossomed by into something more. The relationship was not sexualized with wistful glances and blatant sexual tension, instead, it was built on a friendship and respect for boundaries.

Again, multiple narratives can be drawn given each viewer has a unique set of experiences. One such reading could show that Asami was more in tune with her feelings for Korra than Korra was about her feelings for Asami. And, instead of flirting non-stop with Korra, Asami respects Korra’s space (though we all saw her check out Korra’s back muscles) and recognizes that Korra has a lot on her plate being the avatar, a relationship is not something on the forefront of her mind. It is only after defeating Kuvira (and the healing/growth from a few episodes prior in "Beyond the Wilds”) that Korra is able to truly understand her feelings to Asami, suggesting they take a trip together––just the two of them.

Now, you may not identify with that type of coming out, but other people do. And to argue that “LoK didn’t make Korrasami explicit enough” undermines the experiences of those in the LGBTQ+ who heavily identified with Korra’s experiences and her coming out.

Holding LGBTQ+ media to this higher standard is inherently toxic. I would like to believe that these creators are coming from a good place with good intentions. There is nothing toxic or abusive in the way Korrasami is portrayed. There is nothing unrealistic about the way their relationship progressed throughout the series. It was not a fan service––it was the natural progression of the characters.

And let’s not forget that Korrasami is not only confirming a relationship between two women, but it is also two women of color. Now, it may not seem like a huge deal within the contexts of the Avatar World, but it is important to remember the context of where this show was airing.

There are things we can critique LoK on. It isn’t perfect. We can discuss the hiring of white voice actors (as a way to hold new media that is being created or will be created accountable, not as a way to just hate on LoK); we can discuss the voices within the writers room and the lack of diversity there. These are critiques that can be made of ATLA and LoK and countless of other media produced. This is a valid critique when used constructively. It is not meant to tear down an entire piece of media and everything that it has done for various communities, but rather to point to a flaw within the way media is being produced and the racist, sexist, and homophobic systems in place that determine what and how media is produced.

If we are to critique, we could look to reimagining how we create and consume media, not tearing down media that has already been produced and stands in a pivotal spot of the community. As Audre Lorde says:

For the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house.

If we are continually operating within the systems of oppression, we will never truly be able to dismantle them. Thus, to operate within the institutions of Nickelodeon, Netflix, Disney, etc. is to be beholden to the rules and constraints of a moderate, heteronormative, sexist, racist society. If creators stray too far from that line too quickly, there will be backlash. The perfect LGBTQ+ representation cannot exist while made within these institutions.

I would like to mention this statement is not to say that we cannot critique or boycott movies or shows that are performative in their diversity. There is no excuse for Hollywood after the successes of Black Panther (2018) and Crazy Rich Asians (2018) (and others) to not fill the crew and writers with the same representation being shown on the screen. We can, and should, hold production companies accountable––and given the internet, it is something we can do even early on in the production process.

I have gotten a little off track, but my point is, think about your critiques. Really ask yourself if it is a productive critique, or if it is critique that actually harms or is toxic to the community. Critiques are hard, I understand that. When we first start to think critically, it is easy to just jump on these “low hanging fruit” type critiques. It takes practice and comfortability learning and expanding your world view to construct a critique that looks at context from various point of views and experiences.

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kamccormickhnd1b · 4 years

Text

Recycle Evaluation

The second brief of 2021 was one called “Recycle”, the idea was for us to use old and discarded objects within our home, anything that was old or had obvious signs of being well-used, and we were to paint them with light, section by section, and then put it into photoshop to bring out certain areas we like to create an image that is, to put it simply, made up of each highlight from our painting with light images. We were using old items to make one final result out of everything we had photographed.

For the most part, I absolutely hated this brief. Painting with light has never been something I’ve done much research on nor was it something I’d done much of, while in NQ, we briefly did some painting with light, but nothing to this extent, and even then, I thought I knew how to do it when really I didn’t as I was always getting light trails involved in my images. Thanks to this brief, I have a strong understanding on how painting with light works and the variety of it out there, but for this brief, we were to paint an object and light it up with a flash light, LED panel or any alternative light source of our choice.

Problem 1:

The very first problem I encountered with this brief was understanding what is being asked of me. While my lecturers were explaining it in detail and even showing examples of other results of a composite, I failed to truly understand what was being asked of me, I understood that we were painting with light, but I wasn’t entirely understanding why we were to put it into photoshop to bring out the highlights of the images we have. I spoke to Mark about it after one of the Thursday classes and I left the zoom call thinking I knew what to do, and in all fairness, I did have the right idea, I just hadn’t set things up properly.

I thought we were to photograph each object separately, like we did for Illusion, so I had photographed my objects item by item and planned on putting them into my set up image. It wasn’t until the Tuesday feedback class that Mark went over the images with me and explained it better to me, I then understood what I was to do but I was having a very difficult time putting it together.

Problem 2:

After I had my understanding of the brief, the next problem I encountered was my set up and lighting up certain objects, in particular, I had a porcelain doll wearing white clothing and a dark brown set of clogs, I had difficulty lighting up both objects well as one item was far too dark and required a lot of light painting to light it up to a point you can see the detail in them, and the other was too so bright that with a lot of difficulty, no matter what I was doing, I was creating shadows on it or it was becoming far too exposed and the white in the doll had become so highlighted that it was completely out of place and took away from the doll itself.

I also had the problem of trying to align my images, but when I did this the first time, I realised I had stupidly used different photos from my shoot, photos where I had the same items but they weren’t exactly in the same place enough for the images to align correctly. Either I had nudged the tripod or the camera fell a little and moved out of position or simply me setting things up wrong, the images were different. This led to my first reshoot, I fixed things up and tried to align everything, but as the shoot went on, I began to alter the camera, zooming in or moving my set up a little, so again, I had the same problem, just not quite as bad.

Problem 3:

A problem many of my classmates experienced was the scratch disc issue. From what I remember, no one had informed us that this project will use up a lot of space on our computers and on our hard drives or whatever storage device we were using to save our work. I found out the hard way about this: after a Monday class, I had spent the entire day last week working on my project only to discover I couldn’t save it because the scratch disc was full. I’m on a college laptop too so I couldn’t just clear out the build in storage because I’m not an admin, so I had to arrange with my lecturers to get an extension as this problem occurred days before the deadline.

I reshot my images again that night as I realised that again, my images weren’t in line or the same, so I reshot my images and I tried again, but with the scratch disc issue, I couldn’t save my work but I was still trying to understand what exactly I was to do. I was working on very low opacity and flow, so I had to go over things numerous times to get a result, which was infuriating me as it was taking so long to get one tiny result. I admit, I got frustrated and angry, and with the deadline only days away, I was stressing out and panicking.

My solution:

I took a step back and I thought calmly about things. I had emailed my lecturer about getting an extension, and after showing I really was having technical issues, I was granted that extension. I decided, without letting my lecturers know, that I was completely scrapping the idea I had and doing a brand new shoot. An issue I had was that I had too many items, for me personally, to work with, so I was getting confused and lost 7 seven layers in, so I remembered Mark’s words on pretty much every project I’ve ever done since NQ: “Keep it simple”. Mark is an inspiration to me when it comes to my photography, so I always value his opinions on my work and any advice he has to give, but that advice has been one that has stuck with me since the beginning of NQ photography in 2019. Thanks to that, I was able to take a step back, think about what I wanted to do, and do my reshoot with a strong understanding on what I want out of this shoot.

What I wanted was to capture items that had strong significance to me, items that belonged to my gran, grandad and items relevant to me in my childhood. The items I chose involved a German music box belonging to my gran, a broken dolphin that once belonged to a wind chime and my gran, a broken and old necklace belonging to me, a silver heart that belonged to me also, a small Sonic the hedgehog toy, and a silver locket that was given to me when my grandad passed away a long time ago.

My set up has never changed: I placed my items inside an old suitcase, the suitcase had a faded pink lining that, when light shone on it, gave off a very nice design of light patterns. With the suitcase, I added a blanket that is older than myself, the blanket acted the “floor” of my sett, while the suitcase’s lining was the background itself.

Once I had placed my items, I began my shoot and I focused on keeping my image count low, it helped me to stop myself from going overboard as I have the tendency to leave a shoot, college related or personal, with over one hundred photos as I get carried away and then have to go through them all, one by one. So I restricted myself with my images, to avoid this but also so I wasn’t having more photos for photoshop to struggle with when saving my work. This restriction helped me to have a boundary for myself and once my shoot was done, I waited until Monday’s class, this week, to speak with Iain about how to avoid blurring in my photos when I put them together. He was a big help and made me realise, after so long of stressing about it.......that I can change the opacity and flow to what I want it to be. With one simple relapse, I made myself stress out so much, I had forgotten that I could change the opacity and flow to what suits me, and that night, I put together my image and it was a thousand times easier and I could see results happening and I was able to really think and make choices on where I felt was a good highlight or shadow to add into my final image.

I spent all of Monday night working on it, I planned on doing it until I began to get tired or fed up with a computer screen, but I was so determined to get this project over with that I powered through. I know it’s not good to overwork yourself, but my project was, despite my extension, three days later by that point and I hated not meeting my deadline. The week long extension gave me the time I needed to think and redo my entire shoot and keep it simple for myself, it gave me the time I needed to really plan out better what I want from the shoot and how to get it. So in that regard, I’m thankful for the extension as I really needed it so I could get a hard drive to save my work and so I could re-plan my shoot and be happy with it.

I was sure that I would need to redo or change my shoot when I was showing it to Mark today, I was being so harsh on myself thanks to stressing on the project since the day we were given the brief that I was convinced it looked terrible and wasn’t right. Hearing Mark confirm that I did a great job and made some good decisions made me realise “Hey, I actually did a good job here, I can see that, I can be proud of this”, I have diagnosed crippling anxiety and Aspergers syndrome, so my anxious thinking tends to really blow things out of proportion and I end up panicking and stressing far too easily, so hearing advice from lecturers about my work really helps me and I value every criticism I get as it’s always constructive and not intended to upset me. I let that zoom call feeling ecstatic because I finally finished my Recycle project and I made something I’m absolutely proud of. It took a lot of pain and suffering, but I pulled through, submitted my project and was finally able to forget about it and move onto Lost and Found.

But, while I had many drawbacks with this project, the Recycle brief really helped me to get a good understanding and relationship with photoshop and how it works. In NQ, we used photoshop for the basic use of editing our photos and learning about layer masks, which completely baffled and upset me because I didn’t understand them despite how much Heather explained it to me. HND has helped me a lot with photoshop and understanding, and with me really diving into research and watching tutorials on how it all works as I go, I picked up what tool does what. I still have no idea what most of the tools do, but I’m familiar with most of them enough now to the point I was able to use the tools on my own without a guide or anyone explaining to me on what to do, I was comfortable enough to change brush sizes, colours, to zoom in and out or to use the tools when I needed them. I had become more comfortable with photoshop when we did the Illusion brief, but Recycle has helped me to really understand and become more comfortable with the software to the point I made my own creations, non-college related, and was able to really see what I was able to create and that, with more learning, I can really make some creative masterpieces in the future.

This project also helped me to really think and plan out what one action will do to my shoot or the objects involved, for example, it helped me to think about the effects my flashlight would have on an object when I’m painting with light long before I do the action. I’m thankful for this brief in the way of helping me learn, but I will not miss it!

Things I would do differently

If given the opportunity, I would do many things differently, in particular, I would speak to my lecturers more for help and ask my questions about being confused, what exactly is being asked of me and how I’m to do it. Instead, I spent weeks stressing, worrying and losing sleep because I couldn’t understand how to do the project or what was asked of me, had I asked more questions when the opportunity was there, I could have saved myself the stress, but now I know it for future reference.

Another thing I would do differently is my planning, I did plenty of research on this brief for inspiration and tips, but I feel my planning wasn’t great, I had an idea and I tried to shoot it, but then I was thinking of other ways to shoot it and put it into action instead of sketching it up and really giving it some thought. So I would do that differently.

Another thing I’d like to do differently is to have attended more Tuesday advice classes, I was terrified to attend because of my anxiety and I was scared to speak one-on-one with Mark, through zoom, about my ideas and images. When I eventually did attend, I saw that there was nothing to worry about and it really does help me, so much so that now, unless I plan to shoot my location shots, I attend the Tuesday classes for feedback on my work and so I can find out where I went wrong or how to improve my image.

This brief showed me many things, but regarding myself, it showed me how much I stop myself from achieving my full potential, by letting fear and anxieties grip me, I stop myself from doing things I know will look or turn out great, I stop myself from interacting in class sessions or getting some helpful feedback from lecturers and I stop myself from getting the help I need to calm my worrying mind and be gentler on myself.

I learned a lot from this brief and while I am thrilled to have made something I’m so proud of...........I really hope we don’t get another project like it any time soon!

#recycle #recycle brief #recyclebrief #evaluation #evaluations #recycle evaluation

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singulari-taee · 4 years

Text

The Danger in Duality | 08

BTS X Reader

CW: Graphic depictions of violence and sexually explicit content

“You and your seven squad members must take on the struggles of being world-class assassins while also living as full-time college students.”

__________________________________________________

“Well, that was depressing,” Hoseok said after the call dropped.

Defeat washed over the room.

“What are the chances?” Namjoon asked. His fingers clasped in front of his face, expression etched in deep thought, “20 miles? That’s nothing.”

“Didn’t Squad 8 have something similar happen to them a few years ago, but with a different group?” Taehyung asked.

“Yeah but it was just a small rivalry, and Squad 8 handled it in a couple weeks. Anti or whoever keeps targeting The Academy’s squads...and they’re so close,” he said, “The Academy is the biggest organization of it’s kind in the world, so my guess is that Anti set up camp so close to make some sort of territory war.”

“But why do we have to be the ones caught in the middle?” Jimin said.

“Right, we literally could have been stationed anywhere,” you huffed.

“Well, since we’re the best squad, and Grandpa kind of prioritises us, he wanted us closer to home...like regional guards I guess,” Taehyung said.

“So essentially...nepotism came back to bite us in the ass,” you said.

“It wasn’t nepotism!” Namjoon began to fight, but he shared a look with Taehyung and didn’t continue.

“Well then why not start by targeting us if we’re the closest?” Hoseok asked.

“Maybe they were using the other squads as practice before they got to us,” Namjoon shrugged, “or maybe it was just a warning.”

Silence.

“I can’t do this right now,” Seokjin sighed, carding a hand through his hair as he walked to his room, “The mission is tomorrow and I gotta prepare.”

“Hey! Are you still watching the game with us tonight?” Hoseok called after him.

“Maybe,” he shut the door behind him.

“I’m gonna head out too,” you said.

“Woah, I thought you wanted to watch it!” Hoseok whined.

“Sorry, Seokjin’s right though. I need to prepare for tomorrow and I still have a shit ton of homework.”

“I’ll pass too,” Jungkook said as he and Taehyung followed you to the door.

“Oh not you too!” Hoseok threw his arms up.

“You know I don’t even like basketball,” Jungkook said, “Damn, Seokjin still has my calculator.”

Jungkook jogged to the oldest’s room and flung open the door.

Seokjin stood in nothing but boxers in the middle of the room. He was quick to cover himself as he let the profanity fly.

“Fuck are you doing?! Ever heard of knocking, you little shit?! Get out!”

He pushed Jungkook to the door, but the youngest pushed back effortlessly as he made his way to the calculator on the desk.

“Oops. Forgot this.” he said, “And you know how it works. If you really didn’t want anyone to come in, you would have locked it.”

“That’s not how this works! It’s my room!”

“What are you doing anyway?”

“Changing- you know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you. Move!” he shoved the youngest out of the room and locked the door.

“Yeah, so...I’m gonna go,” you said. You spared a glance back at Yoongi, who’s eyes followed you as you walked out of the apartment.

Jungkook and Taehyung were close behind. The sun had almost fully set, and it stretched over the horizon in a spray of oranges and reds. You neared the fork in the road, an indication to go your separate ways.

“Hey,” Jungkook said, “When the hell can I get that SIG-Sauer P228 off your hands?”

You scoffed, “I still can’t believe it's not too basic for you. That’s, like, a 3rd week of training level pistol.”

“No, what? Shut up! What do you even know?”

“I know that it’s basic.”

“Basic?! You’ve got the special limited holiday edition! It’s got the gold two-tone finish and the indented grip. Oh fuck and the light-weight. Ugh-,” he shook his head as he looked up at the sky, smiling. “And you promised!”

“You know he’s not gonna let it go now,” Taehyung warned.

“Okay, whatever fine, just come by and get it.”

Jungkook turned and you stuck your hand out, “What?”

“Woah, not right now.”

“Not now?! Then when?!” his arms flapped at his side, making him look like a tantrum-throwing child.

You shrugged and walked on, “Not now.”

He called after you, each word followed by a curse. It was true, you had promised that you would give him the gun soon. You rarely used it and when you told him you had it collecting dust in the back of your closet he all but ripped your head off, going on about how you didn’t respect the craft and how he’d save it from the likes of you (whatever the hell that meant). There was just no way you could deal with the company now, and the sooner you were back to your room the better.

As you neared your apartment, you saw a familiar car in the parking lot. The warning was all you needed to mentally prepare yourself for your roommate.

Turning your key in the lock, you pushed inside. Luna sat on the sofa, focused on her laptop.

“Hey!” she chirped, “How was your day?”

“Hey,” you nodded, “Okay, just stressful as usual.”

“Aww I’m sorry to hear that. Wanna come study with me?” she asked, patting the spot next to her.

You looked down the hall. The sanctuary of your room was just so close.

“Ah, damn. I’m just really tired, I don’t think I can focus right now.”

“Oh...I see,” she said in a low voice. The disappointment was clear, “It’s just that we never really see each other or hang out. We live together but I don’t really feel like I know you.”

And you never really will, you thought.

“I know,” you played with your fingers, “Tonight's just not good for me. But we can hang out soon. I promise. I’ll...try and make time for it.”

“Really? Okay! Sounds good,” she smiled, “Oh, and I already made dinner, there’s some left on the stove if you get hungry.”

With a thanks you went to your room, shut the door, and threw yourself on the bed. The blank ceiling didn’t help to clear your mind, just made it easier for your thoughts to race out of control.

It was all just so much.

Being hunted.

Being on top of the food chain, you never knew what it was like to be the prey. There was nothing good about feeling so exposed, especially when their den was supposedly 20 or so miles away. Why did it have to be so close? You couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched even within the confines of your mind and home. The news was messing with you.

Tomorrow’s mission.

It would be easy, but you hadn’t been on a unit mission in a while, and there was always more pressure when the whole squad wasn’t present. It would only be three of you, and only two would even enter the scene at all. Shouldn’t they have mixed up the skill-set and gotten someone else other than him? Hoseok would have been great on a stealth mission like this. And why did it have to be Yoongi of all people?

Yoongi.

The confusion you felt throughout the day came rushing back again. You couldn’t understand the reason behind his thought process. He was always so hard to read and today was no different. He never seemed like the casual ‘come over and let’s just chill’ type. He always needed his space, and given your past relationship you were always more than willing to give that to him. But with your new arrangements, having him want to see you beyond lust muddied the waters. Yes, you were friends. As strange as you liked to show it, you had been so for years. But never had you made an effort to spend time alone unless it was for work. Something about it felt wrong- even more so than the hookups. It felt like a new boundary was being crossed, one that was even scarier than the first.

But god how you wanted him.

He looked oddly beautiful watching the film earlier. Seeing him in gruesome violence for years, the delicate nature of the scene was enough to take you aback. There was just something about his gentleness....

You caught yourself. The corners of your lips shifted up without approval and you wiped it clean.

No. He only wanted this because you’re the only option. It was a safe investment- not because he felt anything else. And neither did you. Nope. You couldn’t. It was against the rules.

You slapped your hand against the bed, and pushed yourself towards the bathroom for a shower. As the water ran, you stripped down in front of the mirror. Your naked body was littered with nearly invisible scratches and bruises- the norm considering your routine. You couldn’t recall the last time you saw your skin clear of any marks.

Your phone buzzed against the counter top, a sign of a text message.

Picking it up, you noticed the speed of your heart change.

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Yoongi: You get home okay?

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You rolled your eyes. As if you couldn’t handle making your way home “okay”.

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You: No

Yoongi: ???

You: Some guys told me they’d give me candy if I got in their van so 💁

idk where we’re goin tho.

just cruisin rn.

Yoongi: Stop

You: Lmaooo take a joke

Yoongi: Today was fun

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The butterflies fluttered in your stomach a bit.

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You: Yeah great movie choice btw

Yoongi:🙄 wyd rn?

You: About to get in the shower

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You waited for his response, but after a minute you sat the phone back down and walked towards the tub. You heard another buzz and doubled back to check.

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Yoongi: Send me a picture

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You stared at your screen, rereading the words to make sure you weren’t mistaken.

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You: Of…?

Yoongi: You dumbass

Before your shower

You: so nudes

Yoongi: Yeah

I wanna see you…

But you don’t have to

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You mulled over an answer. There was something about the idea of teasing him from afar that made your stomach knot with desire. You crossed your legs tighter. He had all day during the movie to “see you”. Why choose when you’re back home and unable to touch you to ask?

You positioned yourself in front of the mirror, trying to find the best angle. Sure you had taken pictures of yourself for yourself, but never with the intention of anyone else ever seeing them.

You twisted your body to see the curves in the reflection, a hand over your head for a better view of your bare chest. Though this was new, you weren’t stupid to the rules- never show your face. With the camera placed to block everything from the chin up, you heard the shutter as you posed.

Click.

You switched angles, leaning forward with your boobs pushed together.

Click.

You sat on the counter, and turned to get a view of your perched ass in the reflection.

Click.

You went back to check them, and you couldn’t help the satisfaction. These were hot. So hot you nearly turned yourself on.

Lucky bastard, you thought

After selecting the images, your finger hovered over the send button. With a deep breath, you bit the bullet and pressed it. Your anxiety wouldn’t allow you to wait for his response, so you put your phone down and hopped into the shower. You would see his reaction when you got out.

_________________

Yoongi hadn’t left his spot on the couch since you left. He spared glimpses at his phone, waiting for you to respond. Every moment that he got nothing, he cursed himself. He was being too thirsty and freaked you out. No way you would agree to this. He didn’t know what made him type out something so blatantly horny, he was embarrassed. Maybe he should apologize. Way to push his luck and make it awkward.

He was just so out of his mind after the assignment, he could barely think straight. He needed a distraction, anything to occupy his mind and not send him down the rabbit hole that was his unchecked fury. It just made no sense.

There was finally a vibration on his lap, and he carefully looked down to his notifications.

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[3 attachments]

_______: Delete them from our messages after.

I expect you to kiss the ground I walk on after these. You’re welcome.

------------------------

He opened the message and caught a glimpse of the pictures. He sucked in a quick breath and threw his phone down.

He looked around the room. The others weren’t paying him any mind. Yoongi slowly picked the phone back up and took in the pictures in all their glory.

His breathing went shallow as he scrolled and zoomed on the screen. They weren’t just any crude pictures- there was an art to it that made him unable to look away. The curves of your body in the faint glow of the bathroom was delicious. Your body. God, your body. The longer he stared, he found something else to marvel over. He was glad he couldn’t see your face, because the thought of a smirk on your lips was enough to make his imagination run wild. He realized his mouth was hanging open and hurried to fix it. His pants were suddenly tighter, and he shifted to hide the sudden erection that was painfully fighting for his attention.

-------------------------

Yoongi: goddamn.

-------------------------

It sounded stupid, he knew that. But was there a right way to respond to something like that? No words or emojis would suffice. He was borderline salivating.

She told him to delete them after. Right. He still had to do that.

As Yoongi’s finger floated over the button, he found the deed harder to carry out than expected. The thought of sending them to the trash to never be seen again didn’t sit right with him.

Instead he found himself saving them to his Cloud app. They would be safe there, hidden amongst his thousands of other photos and documents. You had only said to delete them from your messages to not leave a trace, so this was still technically okay. He couldn’t think about the morality of it for too long or otherwise his conscience might disagree.

He quickly deleted the pictures from your texts and closed his eyes.

“You alright over there?” Seokjin asked, “You’ve been quiet since the mission assignment. But not, like, normal quiet.”

“Yeah, just have a headache,” Yoongi lied, carefully adjusting his throbbing dick in his pants.

“Hey the game’s starting!” Hoseok called, and the boys turned their attention to the TV.

While the announcer went on the normal spiel, Yoongi’s mind couldn’t escape the photos. For minutes he fought the urge to check his phone, but the growing boner had other plans. One more peek wouldn’t hurt, he argued.

He went to his Cloud, and found the 3 images resting at the top. He clicked them one by one, eyes caressing every pixel. His dick fought even harder against his underwear, begging for his assistance.

The fever of the game came to a peak when all the boys erupted in cheers. Yoongi jumped in his seat, seeing the others yell as the players ran across the screen.

It was nearing impossible to think. Yoongi suddenly stood up from the couch. He positioned his phone before the tent in his pants as he walked out of the living room.

“Where you goin? It’s just getting good!” Jimin called.

Yoongi hurried to his bathroom and opened the pictures again. He couldn’t undo his pants fast enough, and when he finally sprang free and wrapped his fingers around his cock he let out a shuttered breath. He stroked himself as he took in the pictures and everything they had to offer. Seeing the space between your thick thighs made precum dribble to his knuckles. He wanted to take you in the shower and feel you for real. He stroked himself faster.

The way you squeezed one of your breasts in your hands caused him to hold in a moan. The final picture was his favorite. The arch of your back as it led to your ass made his heart beat violently. He envisioned the time he fucked you from the back. The view of it bouncing back on him as you were pressed against the telescope made his eyes flutter close as he felt himself unwinding. He almost missed the toilet paper as he came moments later.

Yoongi took a deep breath and looked at his reflection. He was flushed and drained. It took every ounce of energy and self-respect to fix himself and return to the living room.

“Took you long enough, you missed the best free-throw of the season,” Namjoon said through a mouthful of pizza.

Yoongi flopped back on the sofa next to Hoseok. He felt dirty, like they could all smell his shame and fresh orgasm.

“Finally a commercial. Their entire defense needs to be benched...dude, are you looking at porn while I’m sitting right here?!” Hoseok screeched.

“What-?” Out of habit, Yoongi had gone to look at his phone again. But upon unlocking it, the image of your ass covered the entire screen.

Yoongi scrambled to close the app, but his fingers couldn’t work fast enough. In his frenzy he fumbled and dropped the phone onto the cushions.

“Hey, don’t be stingy,” Hoseok said, swooping in and kicking the phone off the sofa before Yoongi could grab it. He leaped away to put distance between them, eyes going wide, “Damn. This isn’t porn. The shitty quality and angle is pointing to personal nudes.”

Yoongi leaped off the sofa and went towards Hoseok.

“Let me be the judge of that,” Jimin said. Hoseok threw the phone across the room, and he plucked it from the air over Yoongi’s head.

Jimin whistled, “Shit...now this is how you take nudes.”

“Jimin. I’m not fucking playing with you give it b-”

“Wait, there’s more!” he cackled, scrolling through the others. He didn’t even look at Yoongi as he evaded him, jumping over the sofa and coffee table. He paused, eyes going wide as he swallowed. “Goddamn. She’s fine. What did you do to deserve nudes like this? Hey, look at this.”

Jimin jumped over to where Seokjin and Namjoon were standing. The oldest shifted to get a better look and Namjoon took his glasses off.

“Sheesh…” Seokjin’s mouth felt suddenly dry, “No wonder why you weren’t watching the game!”

Namjoon licked his lips, “Who’s even sending you these?”

Yoongi stormed over, but the leader took an instinctive step back, “Don’t fucking worry about it. Namjoon, give it back.”

Namjoon looked at the photo and then back at Yoongi, forehead creased with questions. Jimin snatched the phone from his hands.

“Yoongi got a girlfwend?” he asked in a baby voice.

“Give. It. Back.”

He didn’t dare go to Jimin again, he knew he’d only pass it to Hoseok.

“I mean he didn’t say no,” Seokjin added.

“Aww, why so bashful?” Hoseok doubled over in laughter.

Yoongi stood in the middle of the room, fists clenched by his side. He was nearly shaking with anger, and he met eyes with Namjoon who was the only one not howling like an idiot.

“Jimin, chill out. Hand him the phone back. The game is back on,” Namjoon said.

“Fuck the game, this is the best thing to happen all day!”

“Give it back or I’ll hang your entrails from the ceiling fan. Every single one of you," Yoongi seethed.

“Oh, be realistic. You can’t kill all of us,” he rolled his eyes.

Yoongi reached into the drawer under the coffee table and pulled out a trailing point combat knife.

“I’ll start with you,”

Jimin squinted, “Bullshit.”

Without hesitation, he threw the blade and made it land squarely in the opposite wall. Jimin touched his ear, and then looked down at his hand to see specks of blood from where Yoongi had clipped him.

Jimin’s shoulders dropped and after a moment of consideration he tossed the phone over.

“Learn to take a joke, asshole.”

Yoongi’s cheeks burned red, and the others cleared the way as he stomped back to his room and slammed the door.

____________________

You woke up when your head hit the car window.

“Shit,” you breathed, holding the sore spot in your groggy haze.

“Could you hit any more potholes, Jin? Fuck…” Yoongi cursed, sleep coating his voice.

“Wow, finally some company,” Seokjin said, “You’re acting like I made the damn roads, stop complaining.”

The three of you had begun your journey a little over an hour ago. Trees whizzed by your windows, and metropolitan skylines were slowly replaced with endless meadows and forests.

“Just when I thought we’d seen every inch of this region,” you said, “we end up in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.”

Seokjin snorted, fiddling with the screen on his dashboard, “Heads up, we should be arriving in 5 minutes.”

You went to your weapons case and strapped a few knives and a glock to your belt. From the passenger seat, you looked in the rearview mirror back at Yoongi. His earlier words had been his only ones all day. Even when you had been picked up for the mission, he barely spared you more than a head nod. He sat in his seat, looking out the window at the passing greenery, unblinking.

You nudged Seokjin and tilted your head towards the man in the back.

Seokjin shrugged, ‘He’s been like that all day,’ he mouthed.

He didn’t look upset, but more pensive than anything. As if he was trapped in his thoughts without a way to escape.

“Alright we’re here,” Seokjin stopped the car on the side of a desolate road in the middle of the forest.

“Uh...where’s the cabin?” you asked.

“I forgot no one checks the mission coordinates anymore but me,” he sighed, “Well, this is as far as the road will let me go. My GPS is saying the cabin is about half a mile that way.”

He pointed through the thick trees at nothing,

“So you want us to...walk.”

“I know it’s not ideal, but it's not that far.”

The distance wasn’t your issue. From the look of the sky, the sun would be setting in a few minutes, and you would rather not walk through the woods in pitch blackness.

The three of you stepped out of the van. Seokjin grabbed a few drones from the trunk and after pressing some buttons, released them into the sky toward the cabin. He honestly hated the drones, but because the targets likely didn’t have a security system to be hacked, he had to survey the mission with what devices he had.

“I’ll be checking in,” he waved as you both began the hike, “You got this, piece of cake like always.”

The leaves crunched under your shoes as you walked in silence for a couple hundred meters. The darkness of night was beginning to catch up to you. You felt the animals scurry past your feet in their haste.

You turned to Yoongi, face overcasted by shadows.

“You okay?” you asked, “You’ve been quiet.”

He didn’t say anything, and you wondered if he would respond at all until he finally muttered.

“I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind,” he looked straight ahead.

“Is it classes? The mission? It should be an easy one like Seokjin and Mr. Kim said,” you pried.

“I just can’t wait for the day to be over.”

You nodded, “I understand. I was wondering why they dispatched us for this mission, you know? I know that they sometimes like to test different combinations, but having two specialized combat positions for such a small call doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“I was wondering the same thing.”

“You know The Academy though, it’s probably just some sort of test.”

“Well then that’s pretty fucked up.”

You waited on him to elaborate, but the conversation drifted to another hush.

“Well...if you ever want to talk about it, just know I’m here if you feel like sharing.”

“‘kay.”

After a few minutes of painful silence, you both saw a light in the distance. You slowed down, taking in the neglected cabin. The wood was covered in moss, hanging together by a few bolts. It appeared to have been forgotten amongst the woods. You couldn’t imagine life inside.

“She’s a beauty, right?” you said, hidden in the shadows behind the trees, “Jin, we made it.”

“Great. I can see you both. Look up,” you glanced up at the night sky, and a drone came to hover over your heads.

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, “So there’s three we need to take out. You sure they’re in there?”

“I don’t see anyone, but the lights are on. In the call, Mr. Kim said that they hadn’t left in a few days. From the notes, they just went in with a big crate and haven’t even gone outside since.”

A shadow suddenly went past the window, so quick it was almost unnoticeable.

“I saw someone,” he said.

You checked the weapons on your belt, “You ready?”

He nodded, “Make it clean, make it quick. Let’s go.”

You stalked towards the cabin, mere silhouettes in the dark.

“That window looks easy to open-” you whispered, but Yoongi was already making his way to the back door. You stopped, confused by his overly eager choice, but rushed to catch up. When you approached the door, Yoongi reared back and kicked the flimsy wood in. It burst open loudly, and you both charged into what appeared to be the kitchen. One of the drones flew inside. A man stood at the stove, bread in his hand as he turned to you both.

“Now, wait what the f-”

You recognized his face from the photos. Yoongi began to move towards him, but you were already in motion. With a few quick strides you closed the distance. You took the blade from your belt and made a fluid slash across the throat. It was seamless with no splatters- an angle you had worked to master for some time now. His body slumped down, joining the shadows casted on the wooden floor.

Yoongi looked down at the body, “I had it, you know.”

“Didn’t know you had claimed him, I was just trying to get it done. I’ll let you take the next one,” you said carefully.

He took in the nearly empty interior. No one else was in sight, and it was quieter than expected. You heard some faint motion close by, though it was hard to pinpoint.

You both slowly rounded the corner to see a door with steps leading downwards.

“Pat, hurry the hell up! We’re gonna start without you!” a voice called from the basement. Soon after came the sound of whimpers and muffled screams.

Footsteps led up towards you as someone climbed the stairs.

“God dammit, every time. Get down here!” said a man with a buzz cut. He froze when he saw you at the top of the stairs. Before he could react, Yoongi planted a foot in his chest, making the man fall and tumble down the stairs.

You rushed down, stepping over his groaning body at the base of the steps.

“Why wouldn’t you just take him out…then?” you began to ask your squad mate. Your hand was on your belt, ready to take out the man at the bottom of the stairs when you turned to see the rest of the basement instead. You felt your blood run cold at the sight before you.

In the basement was the 3rd target, a ceremonial mask covering his eyes. He was fiddling with the restraints of a woman sitting naked on the floor. They sat in the middle of a circle painted by what you had assumed to be blood.

“What the fuck?!” the masked man blurted. He jumped up, running towards a shotgun in the corner of the room. Before he could reach it you threw one of your knives. It landed in his hand, pinning him to the wall.

Yoongi stood by the steps, immobile with wide eyes. You followed his gaze to the woman. Her eyes had been covered with a scarf and mouth gagged with a rag. She cried, balling up on the floor to hide from the new unseen horrors she heard. On her wrist, a red circle glistened under the lights.

“Seokjin...the targets have a victim here,” you said tightly.

“What?!” the drone came down the stairs and paused next to you, “Oh god. The crate. She was here this whole time.”

“What the fuck do we do?!”

“I’ll call the police.”

“Police?! This can’t be a job for the Cleanup Crew?!”

“I’m already dispatching the cops. This wasn’t a part of the plan but they’ll take care of her. Just finish the job and get the hell out of there!”

Yoongi’s breathing was shallow. His legs shook under him as if they would give out at any minute. His vision never broke from the woman, eyes zeroed in with a laser focus.

Behind him there was a quick motion. The man at the stairs had picked up an axe, ready to swing at your squad mate. Yoongi didn’t move, unaware of his surroundings.

“Yoongi, watch out!” Seokjin warned.

You reached for the gun in your belt and fired two shots to the man’s forehead.

The shots snapped Yoongi out of his haze. He jumped, and turned to see the body tumble behind him. He looked at you in awe.

“I…” he tried, lost for words.

The final man had pulled the knife from his hand and slumped against the wall.

“Who are you?! W-who sent you?!” his voice shook.

Yoongi faced him slowly, jaw taut and far away. He advanced across the floor, closing the distance between them as the masked man screamed to spare his life.

Yoongi crouched down, eye level with him. He pulled the mask away, exposing a thin face and pleading eyes. Yoongi went for the long knife at his side.

“Please. Please, I’m begging you…”

Yoongi plunged the knife into the target’s chest. It went deep, piercing his heart. The man’s eyes went out of focus as life left him. Yoongi pulled the stained knife out, but didn’t place it back in his belt. He lurched the weapon forward again and again, stabbing so many times you lost count. He grunted with every dig long after the man had stilled. Crimson slowly spread across the man’s white shirt.

“Woah, stop!” you screamed. You grabbed his arm and pushed him back, “What the hell are you doing? It’s over!”

Yoongi’s face twisted in pain. He was shaking, looking at the body infront of him with a sense of stunning realization. Time caught up to him and the room realigned in his vision. He closed his eyes to collect himself.

He dropped the knife to grab his head.

The woman on the floor continued to cry, hyperventilating as she tried to force words through the gag. You moved over to her and she flinched. She looked to be in her late 20s- not much older than you if you had to guess. You racked your brain for a solution- you couldn’t take off her blindfold because then she would see your faces. If the cops were coming, you didn’t want to involve her with the repercussions of that, especially when The Academy would be involved. Though at the same time, you didn’t want to leave her stranded and tied up in the house with three dead bodies.

“Um, you guys, the police are here. They just pulled up about 100 meters behind me and are walking to the cabin now,” Seokjin said, “Get out while you can.”

“Shit,” you breathed. You slowly went to grab the rag from the woman’s mouth, and she craned away, “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Please get me out of here. Please...” she cried.

“Okay, we will! They can’t hurt you anymore. The police are coming. Just let me untie you first,” you went to undo the rope, but paused, “But when I do I need you to stay calm and leave your blindfold on.”

“L-leave it on?” she asked, head whipping from side to side in her confusion.

“Trust me. If you can’t do that, I can’t untie you.”

“Okay,” she said, weakly.

With one glide of your knife she was free. She touched at the mark at her arm and her face contorted in agony at the burn. You could only imagine her suffering those few days.

“We gotta go!” you called to Yoongi, helping the young woman to her feet, “Now!”

Yoongi eventually pushed himself off the floor with unstable legs. He reached for a blanket hanging from the back of a chair, and handed it to you. You wrapped it around her as you guided her quickly up the stairs and past the men on the floor.

“Wh-who are you? Oh, god. Where are we going?” she struggled to hold herself up, and you and Yoongi supported most of her weight as you walked through the cabin.

“We’re just going outside,” you finally made it to the front porch, and she flinched when she was met with the night chill. You sat her down. Two drones glided outside and into the trees.

“So what now?” Yoongi whispered uneasily, “Do we just leave her here?”

“He said they’re on their way. She-” in the dark you heard rustling and voices. They weren’t too close, but earshot for you was close enough. You bent to her level, “Hey, the police are almost here. We’re gonna leave. Just...don’t uncover your eyes until we do.”

“Wait, no where am I? Don’t leave,” she pleaded.

“We’re just on the porch. We have to. I’m sorry.”

She moved her head to follow your voices, “Thank you. Thank you so much-”

“I see it!” called an officer in the distance.

With a final rub to her shoulder, you and Yoongi jumped off the porch and bolted into the dark forest. Looking back, you saw a group of officers run to the porch to assess her. She had taken off her blindfold and was looking around in a daze.

More officers were coming, and you both tried to run in silence while not being seen by their flashlights. You could barely see your hand in front of your face, the moon above your only guide. You ran hard, trying to not bump into trees while also checking the constellations above for the right directions.

Suddenly a flashlight crossed your vision, and Yoongi yanked you behind a tree.

You worked to catch your breath and listened for the officers to pass.

“Are we going the right way?” you whispered to him. He didn’t answer, instead looking at you with the same spacey, glazed stare from earlier, “What? And what the hell was that about back there anyway?”

“You saved my life…” he responded, his voice dreamy. His eyebrows joined together, relaying a focus that he didn’t seem to have. He seemed far away, but appeared to truly see you for the first time all night.

“Yeah, but Yoongi that wasn’t the question.”

Using his grip on your arm, he pulled you into him. His lips crashed onto yours in a messy, hard kiss. His hand went to tangle in your hair, knuckles meeting the root. You fought to understand in your haze. He grabbed your waist and tugged your body closer. You could feel the metal of the knives on his belt at your stomach, and it snapped you back.

You pushed his hand down and moved your face away.

“Yoongi, wh-”

Just then, there was a whiz above your heads as a drone flew above and past you. Both of you watched as it disappeared in the direction of Seokjin’s car. You met eyes again, but this time his expression mirrored the panic you felt.

“Oh no...” he muttered.

You didn’t want to think too much, only make it back to the car. If you really assessed the situation in your head, you knew you’d crumble.

You burst out running again, following the drone all the way until you saw the road. It was lit with shining police lights, and you finally saw the van hidden in the line of trees far ahead. When you reached it, you yanked open the door and threw yourselves inside.

“Finally!” Seokjin put the car in drive and whipped the wheel back out onto the road. As he fiddled with the navigation, you watched for any differences in his behavior. He sighed, “That was not supposed to happen.”

“What?” you blurted.

“What? The girl! Was she okay?”

“Okay? No. But the police got her,” you groaned, remembering, “The police. We called the fucking police to the sight of our mission.”

The Academy's Cleanup Crew always came after your missions to get rid of the mess and any evidence the squad may have left behind. The targets always simply “disappeared”. So calling the police to the scene before Cleanup could handle it was a nightmare in it’s own.

“I know, I know. It seems bad and it’s going to be a headache for me later but we had to do it for her. The Academy will probably have to make contact with local law enforcement again to cover our tracks, but they shouldn’t get her involved too much.”

“I really hope so,” you said.

“She...didn’t see you right?” he asked. You shook your head, “Good. That would have been a whole other problem.”

You used the rearview mirror to look at Yoongi. He was expressionless, and Seokjin followed your gaze, “Yoongi, you okay back there? Back at the mission…” you held your breath, “...it seemed like you lost focus. It was a bit of an...overkill, you think?”

You could tell Seokjin was trying to tread lightly. Though you wondered the same, as neither had seen such pointed aggression and bloodlust on a mission. Killing was always matter of fact- one and done. Never something to revel and bask in for too long.

“I just forgot where I was. That’s all,” was his reply.

The landscape turned into city, and Seokjin cursed when he saw his gas was low. He pulled into a dim gas station, and fiddled with a screen on a computer. It showed the woods and the cabin, and you watched as you stormed in after Yoongi kicked open the door.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Just making sure the drones picked up and recorded the feed from the mission,” Seokjin responded, absentminded as he clicked around.

“You recorded it?” you tried to remain calm, but you heard your voice climb an octave, “I thought you just watched in the moment.”

“Yeah I do but I can’t catch everything.”

“So...do you record with all of the drones?”

He snorted, “Duh, I use them to track patterns for my logs, you know that. And with the police involved this time, this footage will be really useful to me and The Academy later.”

“Of course,” you said, “Jin, I really need to be back home soon, could we hurry.”

He gave you a look, “Uh, sure.”

Seokjin got out to pump the gas and you looked between him and the monitor.

“Hey! While you’re out, could you go inside the convenience store and get me some chips or something. I’m really hungry.”

He scoffed “Who do you think I am? No. Get it yourself.”

“Please! You’re already outside. The mission took a lot out of me. I didn’t eat all day,” you begged, “Please, I’ll love you forever.”

He took a deep breath, “What flavor?”

“Surprise me.”

He muttered to himself as he walked toward the store. You shot to action, pulling down any tabs to find the right button.

“Fuck, do you think he saw us?” Yoongi leaned on your seat to get a view of the screen.

“I doubt it. He’s acting too normal.”

“Try that tab!” he reached over you, pointing. Your unease mounted with every word and direction he gave you, “No, not that one! Okay, try that one. Shit, he’s paying at the counter, hurry-”

“Yoongi!” you exploded, “Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m trying to help-”

“You did enough, don’t you think?! Jesus, just...I’ve got it! Give me a break. For fuck’s sake!”

He sat back down. After exhausting your options, you found a video file with the day’s date on it. You hit ‘Delete all’ and suddenly the video on the screen disappeared. You checked the trash and found nothing. You went to any other obvious folders in the confusing layout of his computer and came up empty.

You looked up to see Seokjin walking towards the car and you quickly restarted the laptop.

He opened the door and dropped two bags into your lap, “I didn’t know if you liked sour cream and onion or honey butter so I got both. Hey, what happened to my computer?”

“Thanks! Oh, it just restarted out of nowhere. It said something about needing an update and then just turned off.”

“What? No…” when it rebooted he went to his files. He searched in silence for a bit, face etched in confusion, “No, no, no. The footage from today’s mission is gone!”

“Huh? How?” you feigned, going to check for yourself.

“How does that even happen? I was sure I had it saved.”

“Damn, I’m sorry,” you said, “Is that the only copy you have?”

“Unfortunately. This day couldn’t get any worse.”

He pulled off from the gas station and continued back to the city. The whole time, ranting about his shitty computer and The Academy needing to give him another version. You grunted in agreement, and Yoongi remained silent the rest of the ride home.

___________________

After dodging her for months, it finally happened.

She couldn’t be more ecstatic when you said you were free for the night, jumping into action immediately with ideas of how to spend your time. It wasn’t like you had much else to do.

A few days had passed since the last mission in the woods, and you’d like to think you were doing a good job avoiding your squad members. You didn’t have anything against all of them, but being in their presence after the night you had was the last thing you wanted. It was rare to not hang out at least every other day, but the time alone was needed. You saw them in class and went straight home after despite their questions and protests. More and more unread and unanswered texts were piling up in your phone. You knew everything was alright- if they really needed you, you would know. You knew them too well. According to the text previews, you picked up that they went to grab drinks at the bar about an hour ago. A part of you wished you had gone, but the other knew the break was needed. So on this break, you finally gave Luna a shot. Spending the entire evening with the girl you hadn’t had a conversation longer than 5 minutes with was beyond your comfort zone.

Luna’s idea was to bake dessert. Consequently, you spent the time shuffling around each other in the small kitchen as she led the whole operation. She did most of the work, and you handed her ingredients as she rattled off. You learned that she was an Environmental Sustainability major. You honestly felt bad. You had been living with the girl for months and didn’t even know what she was going to school for.

You also learned that she really wasn’t that bad. She talked a lot, but she seemed to mean well. She was an only child like you, was allergic to cats, and hated the head cell biology professor with a passion. When you were both sitting on the living room floor borderline wine drunk and stuffed on cake, she only got more animated.

“He’s the worst! I kid you not, he almost made me drop out!” she cried. Her face was getting redder with every sip.

“Was he just a hard grader?” you laughed.

“Yeah but he also had the nerve to lecture and not share the slides online! If you missed 3 classes you just failed. He would embarrass you if you missed an answer,“ she counted off with her fingers. “Just trash!”

“He had the coffee breath too, right?”

She pointed at you, “Yes! The coffee breath! How could I forget that?! He made me want to break his nose then my own. Wait, did you have him too? What class?”

You shook your head. It felt a bit heavier than usual in your tipsiness, “I didn’t, but my friend Jin did and he said the same thing.”

“Ah, he’s in that group of guys you always hang out with, right?” you nodded, “How did you guys become friends? I’ve always wondered that.”

You shifted“I don’t know, we’ve just known each other for a really long time. We went through our more formative years together and just never let the other go.”

It may have been the wine, but you felt a pang of regret for ignoring them. Maybe you were doing too much.

“How can you stand being around them all day? They’re all so...hot,” she said, “You’ve never dated any of them before? Hooked up with them? None of them?”

“N-no, nothing like that. I can’t.”

“You can't?” She raised her brow, smirking, “Ah, so you would if you could?”

“No! They’re like my best friends, I couldn’t do it.”

“Not even the angry looking one that slept over that time?”

You stiffened, “You know about that?”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t know it was a secret. I just saw him leaving one morning and assumed you were dating or something.”

“No, no, it’s not a secret or anything like that,” you rushed, “He had to sleep over because of the bad rain the night before. We’re just friends but its…”

“Complicated?” she asked.

“I mean...,” you laughed, “we’re just not really talking right now. But we’re still just friends.”

She tilted her head, looking at you with a wistful smile, “It's obvious they mean a lot to you.”

“They do. I couldn’t make it without them.”

Luna reached out to twirl a strand of hair between her fingers. Her gaze was suddenly intense as she held your eyes, “________, you’re a beautiful independent woman. You can make it without a man.”

Her stare was unnerving. The stoniness in her voice made a chill run up your back.

“I know, I’m just saying,” you turned your face away, laughing to hide your discomfort.

Your phone buzzed against your lap and you gave in to check. You wish you hadn’t.

------------------------

Yoongi: you home?

I know you see my messages

don’t ignore me

You: why what do you want?

Yoongi: I’m coming by

You: again, why?

Yoongi: I just want to talk

Pls

------------------------

You put your phone back down and sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear, right? The friend I’ve been avoiding is coming over and it looks like I can’t put it off anymore. I’m sorry...”

Luna pouted, “Ah, I see. Well it’s okay. It was fun to hang out while we could.”

You nodded, “Yeah, this was pretty great.”

There was a knock on the door. It was sooner than you expected. You pushed yourself off from the floor and went to the door. Yoongi stood on the other side, hands in his pockets and looking unusually hesitant.

You didn’t spare eye contact or words as you waved him in.

“Hey!” Luna waved from her spot on the floor. She gave you a knowing look.

You cleared your throat, “Luna, this is Yoongi. You met him before.”

Yoongi gave a tight smile, “Hi.”

“Ah, right! I’ve seen you around before. I went to your apartment that one time, right?”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Um, yeah, that was my place.”

You led Yoongi back to your room and Luna called after him, “Nice to see you again!”

When you closed the door there was an expected silence. You turned to really look at him for the first time. His eyes were glassy and his entire face was tinted-red. You realized he reeked of alcohol.

You looked him up and down, “Jesus, are you drunk? Do the boys know you’re over here?”

He just shook his head as he walked to your bed. He didn’t usually drink much, and when he did he was always one to at least act the most sober.

He tossed himself across the mattress, putting an arm over his eyes. He tapped the space next to him, an invitation. You placed your phone on your desk and sat on the edge of the bed. You contemplated calling one of the boys to come get him, but you knew all the questions would be redirected to you.

“What did you want to talk about, Yoongi?”

“Not yet,” he said. “I just want to stay like this for a while.”

You stared at him, but he stayed still. You went to stand up, and his free hand went to wrap around your waist, pulling you to lay beside him.

You were pressed against his body and began to push away despite how good him and his sweater felt against you, “We shouldn’t do this. You said you wanted to talk, so what?”

“Please,” he breathed, “Just stay.”

You relaxed, giving in only for a bit. He held on tight, arm still firm around you. You suddenly became aware of the state the wine had left you in. You were doing a better job of holding yourself together than him, but having his arms around you mixed with your own looseness was a combo your subconscious was too eager to accept. His breathing was steady as your ear rested on his chest, and after a while you thought he had fallen asleep. The ceiling fan whooshed above you, and as you waited the hypnotic spin made you lose track of time.

His voice broke the hush of the room.

“I’m so sorry, ______.”

“You gotta be more specific.”

“I meant what I said. I forgot where I was.”

“Yoongi, I can’t say he didn’t deserve it, but that’s never been us. You know that,” you gulped, “What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” you repeated.

“I don’t. I went too far. I feel like...like I left myself,” he said in a low voice. Though you were unbearably close, he sounded so far away, “I swear I had no control for the first time ever. It was wrong. I know that. I couldn’t stop.”

“But...why?”

“I just lost sight of the mission. I put you in a bad place and you had to pick up the slack for my psychotic break, or whatever the hell that was, and I feel like shit for it. Hell, you had to save my life because I couldn’t fucking handle myself,” his voice broke as he desperately pushed the words out. “And the kiss,” he groaned. “I fucked up so bad. And you handled that too. It was a close call and it was all my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. But I want to thank you for stopping me.”

It wasn’t lost on you that he didn’t really answer your question. In all of your years of knowing each other, you never knew him to be someone to lay his heart and regrets plain out on display for just anyone. Whether it was the alcohol or sheer pain that drove him to it, you didn’t know, but it was unsettling. You just wanted to know why. “I’m sorry for snapping at you like that.”

“I deserved every bit of that and more. I didn’t hold up my end at all, I just made problems.”

“I meant what I said earlier too, you know.”

“What?”

Your arms went to wrap around his waist before you could stop yourself. He relaxed in your arms and you couldn’t let go.

“Back in the forest. I’m still here if you need to talk, you know. We’re friends after all, Yoongi. I just don’t want you to hold that shit in if you don’t have to,” you moved your head to look up at him.

A painful smile made its way to him.

Yoongi went to nuzzle his nose in your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed until he whined.

“I wanna stay like this forever.”

You went stiff, “Forever? You know we...can’t.”

“I can dream can’t I?”

He didn’t seem to get it. If in his dreams he saw you being this way forever, he was more far gone than you believed.

He looked you over again, “You don’t want this forever?”

There was such sadness in his glazed eyes, it would hurt you too to say what you should have said. Instead you stayed quiet.

“I know it's wrong, I know there are rules, but I like us this way.”

“Don’t…”

“Why?” it was his turn to ask, lips grazing your warm neck.

“You know why...we just can’t.”

“But you like to be with me like this too, right?”

You didn’t even have to ask what “like this” meant.

“I don’t think either of us are in the right head space to make that call.”

“Beyond the fucking. This is something we can do more. Hell, is it so wrong to want to hold you?”

“It-it just blurs the lines even more,” you stammered when his nose traced your collarbone.

“Screw the blurred lines. Screw The Academy. I like us like this, _____. And secretly, I think you do too.”

You felt yourself short-circuiting, “I think the lines are important because without them I can’t understand what this is.”

He stopped to search your face again, “Well what do you understand?”

His eyes were so deep. When you answered you were trapped in them, “That I like this more than I should.”

When the answer left you, there was a curse in your sober subconscious. Though seeing his face soften from the wounded mask he wore earlier almost made you forgive yourself. Almost.

It happened slowly, unlike the others. You watched each other, letting your words hang in the air before the other moved. You were the first to close the distance, Yoongi soon followed. When your lips met in the middle there was no rushed crash, no hurry driven by lust. He held your cheek in the most gentle way. Your lips pressed against his, and for the first time there was no fight for dominance. Your hand went to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer in your already tight position. He rolled himself over you, holding himself up with both hands on either side of your head. Yoongi looked you over for a second before dipping his lips back to yours.

You rolled over again, your knees on either side of his torso as you straddled him. You grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him again. His hands went to your back, skin burning under his fingertips. You went to grab at the bottom of your shirt, and he stopped you.

“You don’t have to, you know?” he said, eyes searching yours.

“But I want to.”

He moved his hand and you raised your huge t-shirt above your head and discarded it onto the floor.

The look he gave you was one of such unfiltered admiration it scared you. His gaze raked across your naked upper body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he proclaimed in such a way your face became hot.

He pulled you down to him again. His large hands traced up your thigh slowly, making you remember your revealing shorts. His touch lit a flame under your skin wherever he touched. Though it wasn’t entirely desire that you felt. This was different. Something that made your chest feel warm and butterflies dance in the pit of your stomach.

“Was that the front door?” he suddenly asked.

“No,” you quickly dismissed him, groaning when his lips went back to your neck. The growing wetness in your panties was a distraction, but you tried your best to listen through your labored breaths.

He sighed, the puff tickling the sensitive skin. He whispered, nearly soundless “Shit...I just like you so much.”

You froze.

You slowly pushed yourself up. Looking down at him, even through the alcohol he seemed to know he had crossed a line.

“You what?”

_________________

When Jungkook left the bar with the others, he was surprisingly sober. He had downed 3 beers and a tequila shot without an issue and was actually disappointed. Getting wasted would have been nice considering the trash week of classes he was having and not remembering the grade he just got on his last quiz would have been the cherry on top.

“What’s been going on with him anyways? You all noticed, right?” Hoseok asked, arm around Namjoon’s shoulder.

“How could we not? He barely said shit the whole night,” Jimin said, “How do you get shitfaced and then get up and leave? That’s just sad.”

“Did he even say where he was going?” Taehyung asked.

“No, but it's not like we have to worry about him handling himself.”

“I should check on him,” Namjoon said, “He’s been acting off for almost a week.”

“Check on _____ while you’re at it. She’s been off too.”

“You sure she’s not just finally tired of us? I wouldn’t blame her,” Seokjin said.

The others were making their way back home and Jungkook stopped to linger on the sidewalk. If he continued down this street and made a right, he’d be at your place, he noted. He suddenly remembered what you owed him.

“What?” Taehyung burped.

“You can go back, I’ll catch up later. ________’s still got my baby.”

“Whatever,” he gave a peace sign and ran to catch up to the rest.

As Jungkook walked under the dim street lights, he couldn’t help but wonder about you. After Yoongi left the bar, Seokjin had told them that the last mission was a rough one, partially because of Yoongi. This wasn’t new though, you had all seen your fair share of fucked up shit over the years. So it didn’t make sense for you to ignore everyone for days on end over it.

He looked at the texts he had sent you. None of them were opened.

-----------------------------

Jungkook: Stop ignoring me I’m coming over rn

U better be home

If not im breaking in 😜

-----------------------------

When he finally made it to your place, he pounded on the door. When it opened he readied to walk in, but he stopped when he saw the person on the other side.

“Hi?” Luna asked.

Jungkook forgot she lived there too, “‘Sup?”

“Oh, you’re _________’s friend, right?”

“Yeah, is she here?”

“Yeah, come in,” Luna stepped aside as Jungkook took his shoes off, leaving them beside a pair that was too big for either of the girls that lived there. He didn’t notice, “She might be a little busy though.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows joined in confusion. Like that actually mattered to him, “Uh, okay? Where is she?”

Luna pointed down the hall, “Back in her room.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Luna went back to her own room and Jungkook followed her directions down the dark hallway. He had to stop himself from salivating as he pictured what was soon to be his. He seized the handle of your door and thrust it forward.

“Ha! Can’t ignore me now, can you?”

He blinked a few times thinking something would change. In the time void the bedroom had become, everything stayed the same.

You were still mounting Yoongi.

Yoongi still held a handful of your ass.

Your bodies were still entangled in the sheets.

You were still topless.

The scene never changed.

But Jungkook wished it had.

Previous Next

_________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading like always! Feel free to lmk your thoughts 👀

#bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfiction #yoongi smut #did #the danger in duality #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts x reader #bts au #kpop fanfic

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txst-psf · 4 years

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Welcome back!

Hello everyone! Welcome to the first blog post of the semester! While we enter into this new and very different semester, the PSF officer team is excited to jump back into our Zoom room and talk all things pagan and magical. Today, I wanted to pull some cards for some semester intention setting and talk about the actual act of it as well. Let’s jump into the reading!

I used a three card spread I found on Pinterest (link:https://pin.it/14pfnLw) that shows us what we need to know, where we need to grow, and what we can let go. I also pulled an oracle card to give us some focus.

What we need to know: Justice

The card Justice shows a very prominent theme that we have seen building throughout the year, and likely culminating with the election in November. It speaks on moral decisions and law and order, both mundane and divine. What seems clear is that we need to take our moral decisions more seriously and stay accountable for the consequences they yield. This card is heavily associated with the astrological sign Libra, which is known for social relationships and balance, showing an impact on people outside of ourselves. We will need to find a balance that works for us and others, in all areas of life, to bring harmony. I see this being particularly relevant to how it pertains to socializing, academics, and self-care. A great way to go about that is to find sensible boundaries. Know them and act on them accordingly.

Where we need to grow: Death

Honestly, when I flipped this one, I had to laugh just because of the contradiction that we need to grow in death. This card is one of the most misunderstood cards in the whole deck by those who don’t read Tarot often. What I’m seeing is the need to transform and grow past our former selves. Much like a snake shedding it’s skin so it can continue to grow, we must transcend things in ourselves that we find restricting, like limiting beliefs and attitudes that keep you in a stagnant mindset. Holding space for this will be accompanied with growing pains. We may lose parts of ourselves and find that we are completely different from the people we began this semester as, but just as the sun starts to rise in the card artwork, this transformation will bring about new opportunities to bring us closer to our highest good. Death (the card) is associated with the astrological sign of Scorpio which links it to secrets and the inner world/underworld. It looks like this will be a great time to start some shadow work!

What we can let go of: Queen of Swords

The suit of swords is often associated with air and with the mind/thoughts, while the Queen is typically associated with water and feelings. She is someone who is articulate and analyzing. Normally, we are told this is a positive trait, but I think rationalizing our feelings can sometimes be to our detriment. This semester, let go of the habit that is over analyzing or overthinking your feelings. Some things need only to be observed and released, while persistent and prolonged emotions deserve more attention. This card is also referred to as the widow, being the only matriarch portrayed from her profile, looking like a ruler in action. Even though we are mostly virtual and avoiding in person hangouts, it doesn’t mean we have to be fully independent in everything we do. Find some ways to get social support! I know that PSF will be doing our best to get some social time built in virtually for everyone who wants to participate.

Focus: Truth

This is a good season to find and live your truth, whatever that means to you. While we have this abundance of time with ourselves, learn how to live with the person you are. Oftentimes, the beginning of the semester is met with auspicious goals that leave us putting personal development, in terms of spiritual and psychological wellness, on the back burner to tackle the semester ahead of us. This fall, focus on how to integrate your authentic self into your scholastic goals. How can you genuinely interact with the material you are subject to in class and find meaning that is applicable to your life? When can you hold space for yourself to rest when the burnout sets in? As the Northern Hemisphere shifts into darkness that comes with the Autumnal Equinox, we are called to find the place within ourselves that we call home. Make it comfortable and stay awhile.

With this message in mind and Virgo season in full swing, now is a great time to set intentions for the semester ahead of us. Take the time to picture what you want your life to look like come December when final exams are over. Sure, we all want to pass our classes, be happy, and have a stable financial situation, but what does that specifically look like for you? Having detailed goals gives us a better framework to structure our time around.

Coming up with the nitty-gritty details of a goal is difficult but a good method for goal setting is to keep it SMART, which is Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant, and Time-Bound. Yes, even mundane goal setting can be used for spiritual goal setting or intention making! Specifics make sure the goal is clearly written, for example, “I want to read more” versus “I want to read the Hunger Games trilogy”. The more specific you make it, the less ambiguity there is in how to accomplish the goal. Adding specificity also makes the goal easier to measure which deals in quantities like how many, how much, and how often. “I want to read three books” is better than “I want to read more” because you know exactly what successfully achieving the goal looks like.

Two very important parts of goals are being attainable and relevant - both require self-awareness and reflection to determine. A goal must be possible to do or you risk setting yourself up for failure. You still want the goal to feel like somewhat of a challenge, but not so much that it is anxiety-inducing just to think about it. Relevancy makes sure that the goal serves a purpose and isn’t just something you feel like you have to do. Does this goal further you down a path you want to take? Will this goal be easily integrated into your everyday life because it is a skill or habit you want to use? This isn’t to say that you can’t have random intentions that are different from your usual interests, but you should have enough interest in them to follow through on the goal. This quality also establishes why the goal is important to you. It will keep you coming back to work on the intention.

Being time-bound helps us measure our success and add urgency to accomplishing things. Few things are more motivating than a due date for college students. Some people work with a regular calendar, like days, weeks, months, or years. Others set their goals with the astrological calendar like by moon phases, sabbats, and certain astrological placements. If having an ultimate due date causes anxiety, the best thing is to break your goal down into smaller tasks and give them suggested due dates. For example, if I want to save $400 for holiday gifts, I may feel rushed to save it all up at the last minute, but if I give myself one month for each $100, I can have my goal in four months. It makes the intention seem much more doable and grants us a specific time to reflect on our process.

This month, we will be talking about intentions and how we can work to manifest our goals. It is hard to be motivated in a time where we rarely leave the house and are still configuring our normal lives, but we can become our own motivator. Some of the days I’ve felt the sanest were the ones I spent working towards skills or knowledge I really wanted, both academically and spiritually. So we want you to think about something to manifest over this semester, big or small, magical or mundane. Let’s see what we can accomplish this semester!

#intent #intention setting #tarot #justice #death #queen of swords #truth #pagan #magic #goals

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valuvillado-blog · 5 years

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WELCOME <3

Throughout my journey in life, I have come to discover a lot about myself and what life means to me. I believe that every day we can find something new about ourselves if we pay attention. I come from a small country in Mexico called Puebla. Being from there my family is very religious bounded but I am not. I believe that peace comes from within. There isn't something that made me realize this, it was more just from experience. I never really adapted to my family's morals or beliefs. I guess one would say, I rebelled against it. I followed rules and boundaries that were placed but I always questioned it. I knew there was more to life than just those rules set upon me. My family never let me go out, never let me have relationships, and were never really supportive of my decisions. With that in mind, I felt as if I was trapped in a little bubble that I could never escape. I never had the opportunities to grow from what I was raised from until about the end of high school. I came more in touch with myself and new experiences humbled me. I had already known before what I liked and what I didn't since I did have so much time on my hands. I concluded that those rules were just set to not explore my true self. So what did I do? A LOT. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate what my family did for me because it also played a huge part of my life growing up. It gave me a sense of responsibility, since a major part of my life was and still is to take care of my younger brother and it gave me independence. It also gave me other skills but those are the two major things I will be forever grateful for. Coming from this type of family was really frustrating that I separated myself from them. Especially now being college where they cannot breathe down my neck all the time. I’m still learning about myself and I’m happy about it. My daily motivation is to just go with the flow. I prioritize certain things like class and work but with everything else, whatever happens, happens. The people I’m around now are supportive and have shown me a lot. I find peace in the little things in life because of them. Life is so beautiful if you keep yourself open to new experiences. On a daily basis, I keep pushing myself to be open and to really pay attention to the little things I would’ve never paid attention to. There is so much more to everything if you set aside your pride or if you step out of your comfort zone. Life can be really rough on some people and fairly simple to others or it could even be confusing as heck but at the end of the day, it’s really how you want to live life. Everyone could find life easier if they really tried or if they really learned to step out of the bubbles that they are stuck in. Obviously, I still have rules to abide such as the law and even my family still but those could never define me anymore (besides the law). My body and brain have really just connected since I have been able to make more connections outside of my family and the town I never left. That also doesn’t mean that I won't be confused because i’m still trying to get it together but it’s okay to be confused and it’s okay to not know much about the meaning of life. So far though, at least for me, everything's coming together in a much more harmonious way than I would’ve ever imagined.

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camikee · 5 years

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Lessons Learned Too Late

It seems that it’s the most valuable lessons that come at the most inconvenient time for us, always arriving exactly when we would rather be looking elsewhere. For me, at least. I had my last training session with my first college coachees last week.

A lot of things are terrifying to me- large social situations, flying insects, and boats that look suspiciously like the Titanic. So when I began coaching adults for the first this year, it was a nearly paralysing feeling. I got a team of men that had never played volleyball before. I scratched my head in confusion and thought about if I would actually be teaching them anything. “It’ll be like the middle school team I coached last year,” I pondered naively. “It can’t be that hard.” This was my first lesson learned too late as a coach- do not set precocious expectations. I started out by going to their trainings- which was a supposedly weird thing to do. I had always been coached and trained by the same person- however within my association, it was normal for the trainer and coach (games) to be two separate people. None of that made sense to me, and I chose not to adapt to what was custom. As I put more time into guiding these guys, I realised what I truly had in my hands- the amount of potential I’d been gifted. These guys were headstrong from the very start- much like my middle schoolers. Stubborn, some would say. Difficult, others would contest. Often, my position as would be put into question sarcastically, something which I had very well learnt to combat with my 11 year old coachees. Antonymously however, these boys were much taller and generally quite older than I was, which changed the way I would approach coaching. Looking back to the very start of the season, they were probably just as lost as I was- but once they started to get some direction, there was no stopping them. There was no real time for jokes either, as these guys were stubbornly motivated- and quite frankly I had trouble keeping up. The schedule soon became as follows: one practice a week, + 1-2 matches and 1-2 extra trainings (all in addition to my own team schedule). I spent nearly every single day planning for and coaching these guys. A 24 hour job. I soon learned to carry the ankle weights of anxiety through this new experience. I do recognise that I had the choice to do the minimum and just coach their games like the job description indicated, but I couldn’t ever do just that.

You have to be a strong willed person to want to play volleyball 4-6 times a week during your first week at an association. The non-athlete part of me feels exhausted just looking at those training times. Admittedly, at first, I felt responsible for pushing them to spend more time together to get to know each other. Then, this job turned into meticulously planning extra trainings. What it eventually ended up happening is that they became the ones pushing towards having more practices, more games, and more trainings. It was truly out of my hands. Anything these guys had trouble understanding or acting out, they would organise an hour practice where they would have me run drills for that specific component over and over again until they understood it. If I didn’t understand it, we would invite someone who did. Were they on crack? I had never met a beginner’s team so determined to improve- so motivated by the boundaries others placed on them. This is the only reason I can give for them breaking every expectation; they simply worked harder than everybody else because they felt out the gap in experience. Nobody gets anywhere without the grind. However, nobody gets anywhere without putting in the hours. Lesson learned too late number 2: it takes time. Of course, intuitively, I knew this. I knew that it skills don’t appear overnight and I knew that team dynamo didn’t form within and hour. If you’re reading this and don’t understand volleyball, here are the basics; you have to win 3 sets out of 5 to win a match. Each set consists of 25 points, which can feel like many more if games are slow. It took months, y’all. It took a quarter year of weekly games to win 1 set, and nearly 7 months for them to win their first game (this level team usually isn’t expected to win any games in their first year season). It took really hard defeats, injuries, and repeated strain to get anywhere. It took frustration against each other, the coach, and obviously the referees to end the storming period. It even took a nasty clash with an official about stolen points during a tight match (ref was wrong tho, we all knew it). It takes power to get back up from the dust and continue the gruelling work of training. Something clicked, eventually, but only after a bit. It’s quite demotivating for the team (player as well as coach) to take loss after loss and remain positive. Things felt very still for those first few months, and it was worrying to think that maybe I wasn’t suited to ensure the success of this team. Some of them take these type of losses quite seriously as well as personally and I felt guilty for it. This stillness, somehow, is what made the first step so sweet. They took their first set against a noticeably irascible team, and nothing had ever felt so great. My co-coaches and I pulled our voices out of our throats and threw them up in the air like confetti. What did it matter about the rest of the game? A set was more than we had ever gotten. The next day, the sky was a little bluer. Following the win, the stillness returned, characterised by a lack of scheduled games. However, they had grasped their first tiny victory, and came back for their first win against a team two ranks above them in the same association, same classe, and same division. As humiliating for the other team as this could have been, it set them out for the kill and they slaughtered the champions of their classe and demoted them from their first place (same division). I was gobsmacked. I was present for their first win, the win for which I admittedly shed a few motherly tears for- but when I heard of their second win, I ran around to tell every single person I knew that was in the proximity. Lesson learned late number 3: always expect the best out of people.

For months I had mentioned that I thought these guys were better than what their title could showcase- but who would believe their coach that was clearly very biased? Their achievements were proof of their hard work, this was evidence that this team happened to be composed of disciplined, hard working and most persevering guys that could have ever been sorted together. At some point, this team became family; and we want the best for our family, don’t we? I saw these guys, and what I saw was not only how they were now but also how far they had grown. If I looked forward, I could get a glimpse of what they could be. I not only compared their trainings to some of the most technical stuff I could find, I also expected them to outperform the previous versions of themselves. Given, some of the things I may have envisioned could have been unrealistic, but if you shoot for the best, you’ll land somewhere close to there, hopefully. Though they couldn’t gather enough points in the end to climb up in their pool, this was already a legendary year for them. They absolutely killed the game as first years and will continue climbing if they keep this up. If they had stuck to what was expected of them, which we known now was clearly not their best, I don’t know what would have happened. Not this, certainly.

Now, as a coach, I can’t say I expected this to happen. When I was pushed into coaching this team (by my own wonderful teammates, may I mention), I didn’t have any idea what I was doing. I’m used to coaching middle school- what was I even doing here coaching men’s college volleyball? I had to think about what my previous coaches had done that I think had worked, because my previous coaches are the ones who shaped whatever I would be handing down to these guys. I couldn’t ever have compared to the skills and years of expertise my previous coaches had- they had worked their way towards the bottom to end up coaching teams I’d played on. They started out playing on high teams and coaching teams of their calibre, before working their way down to teams I had played on. Of course they had their doubts about themselves- who doesn’t? The difference is that I did not have the extent of qualification to back myself up. I would have to work from the bottom up, to start the learning process the same way I learned how to play the sport initially. I was terrified, however, and felt that it would be easier to be an assistant coach to a higher team, or maybe not even coach at all. This was difficult to balance. Lesson learned late number 4: let ego take a back seat. Everyone wants to coach the high level teams. Everyone wants to be associated with a team with high skill- and if you are the person best suited for a team in terms of skill and compatibility, then by all means. We’re all glory-seekers, though. (Note that I am not citing personal glory as a unique reason to want to coach the champion team but as a very raw human motivator to do so). If I may let the psychology student in me make an observation, it seems that coaches of higher teams may feel that their position is gratifying, and be inclined to invest more into the team they coach- which makes sense. Humans seek what makes them feel good. Coaches of “lower” teams may find it more difficult to think that what they are doing is working or even gratifying- and could be inclined to retract. Losses and stillness can make one feel helpless. This also makes sense, and if I had let myself fall victim to my anxiety, I would also retracted. I just couldn’t do that to this team I had. It’s not, and will never be, about me or how I feel regarding the game. It’s about them. Looking at all my past coaches, it would be out of character for me to not invest my energy into trying to get them the success these deserved. And they deserved it all. Volleyball aside, I spent a lot of hours with these 10 wonderful coachees of mine. And ofcourse, I’ve gotten to know them as the 10 separate individuals they are instead of just a unit. The amount of time that I gave did allow for them to grow on me. Lesson learned late number 5: learn to let go.

It is the end of the season already, and the Technical Committee of the association is working hard to redistribute the skill levels. This would mean, as expected, that the team I had grown so attached to was going to be dissected and reassorted. I hadn’t given too much thought to this until it hit me in the face. And this became the problem of becoming very involved- the issue of attachment. I often joked that these guys were my “kids”, because my way of guiding them was quite “motherly-like”. Unfortunately, my method of attachment was also quite “motherly-like” and the concept of passing this wonderful set of people off to another coach is alien to me. The countless memories and inside jokes, all being shuffled on to someone else. lol no.

These guys continue to astound me, some of their traits on the court are also very clearly seen in their lives outside the sport. Notably; the perseverance, the stubbornness, the optimism. I know them so well, it’s like I’m not ready to let them go. The end of the season feels like seeing them off to new lives, much like a parent seeing their child off to college. Ofcourse, our shenanigans are far from over- but we all know it won’t be quite the same again. I seek to let them know though, how remarkable each of them are. To let them know that anything they set their mind to is within reach. To thank them for this great season. This sounds like any speech given by a coach at the end of a season, but I guess I never really understood until this point. I need to stop being such a mom.

If you’ve payed attention to any of this, you know I still have no idea what I’m doing as a coach. I have a notion of what it could look like, but all teams are different and to compare any other group of people to the particularly great one I had this year could be risky. I’ve learned these 5 things, maybe I’ll learn more on the way.

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fanciful-follies · 7 years

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hi! i start college in the autumn after taking a gap year, do you have any advice for freshmen? i'm scared i'll be One Of Those People who screws up their first semester or whatever

Hello! :) I do have advice! Read below the cut.

The first thing I’ll say is let yourself be nervous. Let yourself be scared. I can guarantee that at least 90% of incoming freshmen are scared. Heck, I got nervous every year of college when I moved back. It’s normal. And it’s a lot easier to just let yourself be nervous than trying to fight it or getting upset that you’re nervous in the first place.

I’m assuming that you have some kind of orientation before classes start, and with that, try and meet as many people as you can. It can be really overwhelming, but just do your best. Orientation leaders should put you into groups of people anyway, so that makes it a little easier. But at the same time, if you don’t click with people right away, don’t sweat it. The friend group I thought I found during orientation week lasted about half of the semester before I found myself with a completely different but solid group of friends.

I’ll also suggest looking into various clubs/associations on campus that you can join. Go to as many first meetings as you feel comfortable going to. You’ll meet a lot of different people that way and possibly find a club that is perfect for you. Clubs can be a place/group of people that end up being an awesome support system to fall back on/give some order to your time at college.

I’m also assuming you’ll have a roommate that you’ve never met before. Now, I got extremely lucky in that area. My roommate from freshman year became my best friend and I’ve roomed with her for four years now. I hope that happens for you, and it can happen, but it also might not happen. For the most part, people get along with their freshman year roommates, but they aren’t best friends, or really even friends. But what’s most important is that you all live well together. This means that you feel comfortable in the room with them, and that you respect each other’s boundaries. If things aren’t going well, there is always the option to switch rooms, and there should be upper-classmen in your dorm (RA’s) whose job it is to help you with that.

In terms of classes, don’t do 8ams. Just don’t do it. I don’t care if you’re a morning person, don’t do it lol. If you’re a morning person, schedule a 9am or a 10am and you can still wake up early but take time getting ready and eating breakfast, maybe even get some work done if you want to. I can promise you that you will have nights where you don’t get to sleep until late, and waking up early will feel like death.

I don’t know if you already know what you want to major in, but even if you do, I still suggest taking classes in a variety of disciplines. I was dead set on just doing English, but then my freshman year I took a sociology class and a history class, both areas which ended up being my minors. So go ahead and take a class you know nothing about. If you don’t like it within the first few weeks, you can drop it!

While I don’t necessarily think the topics taught in most college classes are more difficult than high school, the workload and the structure is very different, and it’ll take some getting used to. What I’ve noticed most is that things are pretty chill the first few weeks of classes, and then, all of a sudden, midterms and papers just start piling up. So look ahead in the syllabus, plan accordingly, and stay organized.

Skipping classes is tempting. I’ve skipped classes. I will continue to skip classes. I am all for skipping classes when you need a mental break. BUT try to keep it to a limit.

I also really recommend going to office hours. I don’t know if you’re going to a big college or a smaller one (I got to a small one myself) but getting to know my professors outside of class has been really helpful. I had a big personal upheaval occur like…the third week of my freshman year lmao and I had to go to each professor and talk to them about it cause the incident made me have to go home every weekend for a bit and I was worried about falling behind on work, and each and every professor was so nice and understanding, and one of them go me into contact with counselors on campus and all these other resources I could use. So yeah. Get to know your professors. You’ll feel more comfortable with them, and they’ll see that you’re invested in their classes.

If/When you go to parties, go with a group. It’s more fun that way, and you’ll have people looking out for you. If you have yet to drink, go slow if/when you do for the first time. Again, have people looking out for you. And drink water after lol. Lots of water. Your future self will thank you. If you don’t like to drink, that’s fine, too. You will meet other people who don’t like to drink. There are so many things to do on campus, so don’t worry about that.

That’s all of the advice I can think of for the moment, but if you have other questions, don’t hesitate to ask!!!! :) I hope this helped!

#college advice #i promise it's not as scary as you think #you'll get into a groove #and start to feel comfortable by second semester #long post #text heavy

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elizabethrobertajones · 7 years

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Why do you think that when seemingly funny thing happen, they happen to Dean? Like the fear thing in Yellow Fever or the age thing in 5.07 and 10.12 (both old and young!) or the memory thing in Regarding Dean. I'm sure I'm missing a lot of others (and also the not so funny like the vampire thing in 6.05 and of course Demon!Dean in S10). But I can't really picture Sam on those situation tho, Dean is perfect xD

And this is why Plucky’s is my favourite episode, because the thing happened to Sam and it was also perfect but in a completely different way :P

If you’ve seen the gifset ever of that con where they were talking somewhat seriously about this, before someone said Sam was the straight man to Dean and then Jared imploded… I mean, I need someone to turn that up for me so I can stick it in the “thanks Jared” section of my massive bi dean meta etc resource… But also they WERE making a serious point before they derailed it :P

The show has a lot of quietly set in stone dynamics. I mean, well, they’re stuff that can get subverted or a particular arc or season will try to explore things from a different angle, but even when they try to do that they still work within certain rules.

I should probably just make a gif of it for myself, but my favourite visual for this is in 11x04… actually it’s 2am and I have the Sleep Madness so I’ll just do that…

It’s such a wonderful image of the 2 of them, with Sam wearing red and Dean wearing blue, and top and tail like that. They’re 2 parts of a whole but they’re utterly different people and they’re often mirror images to each other in ways where when something applies to one, the direct opposite is shown in the other.

(Sidebar: it’s why I’m so delighted that Sam was like blah blah Cas is family and then Dean was like you may be able to forget Cas but I can’t!!!!1 in 13x03… But on the other hand there are things where the nuances get lost and people make weird wrong assumptions like us having to endlessly prove Dean is the smart one because of the lingering first impression that doesn’t let anyone create any nuance after “sam went to college and dean didn’t”)

Anyway, setting up a straight man and comedy sidekick duo drops that all on Dean because from the first episode Sam’s all serious and has epic angst, while Dean tries to lighten the mood and clearly has the snarky sort of attitude that lends itself towards being the comedic one. Even when they make Dean angsty, Sam is serious and Dean big brother picks on him a bit sometimes (in a nice way) and teases him a lot - this is all broad strokes season 1 characterisation I’m talking about, really. But yeah, even if they go super deep or make Dean super angsty, he’s established as the character who can deal with it. And sometimes dealing with it is shouldering a cracky episode’s concept because they know his reactions are going to be easier to sell the thing.

The other thing is emotional POV and Dean’s largely established as the character who has that. Sam spends a lot of time unavailable as the emotional POV and Dean has shouldered entire SEASONS of it (season 6 especially where he was the ONLY viable emotional POV character for large chunks of it). Emotional POV is not really who the episode is ABOUT but what character is reacting to it and filtering how we should feel about a thing for us. In 6x03 when Cas wants to read the kid’s soul to get info, Dean steps in like wtf we don’t torture kids, but Sam and Cas outweigh him because utilitarian means to an end for the greater good blah blah. It makes it clear if we’d missed it that Dean is the only person whose judgement can be trusted until further notice. So until then, we always have to check in with Dean to get the read on a thing.

Anyway because Dean is the emotional POV we cry and suffer along with him, but we also laugh along with him.

In 7x14 even when Sam gets a funny episode about him, the clowns aren’t really revealing anything about him - we knew about the clown fear since 2x02, it’s explored before the fight but largely for Dean’s benefit, and Sam getting the crap kicked out of him by clowns makes him a hilarious object for us - the fight scene is ridiculously funny but it IS just Sam having the snot beaten out of him while they come up with creative ways clowns would WRECK you in a fight. Dean gets an emotional showdown with the guy controlling the fears, and is the one who learns a lesson from it, while Sam had never really been set up for anything other than being the centre of attention of all the nonsense because it was really really funny that he was scared of clowns. It’s like the “the ball washer” “the what?” exchange explains Sam’s entire role in the episode.

(Which was Dean doing big brother teasing but like the entire narrative decided to torture him :P)

And meanwhile when Dean gets the hilarious episodes which turn out to be really really painful, we get deep explorations of his psyche. 4x06 explores his hell trauma and reveals a lot about what he went through, and his fears about what Sam will become (LOVE THAT DABB EXPOSITION :D)… Idk about the old man Dean episode but he had some DEEP scenes with Bobby in it I seem to recall… I think @thejabberwock was probably giffing it recently and putting it on my dash for me to scroll past without really looking the moment I recognised what episode it was :P) but it was an episode that let them sort of relate to each other a bit better I think. Or Dean to feel for Bobby some more. Idk, I think there is a super important conversation between them? This is what happens when you put an episode on your “eeeeh skip it unless you’re being weirdly thorough” list :P

But yeah young!Dean was a massively important Dean episode exploring deep down in his character, but just delivered through silly moments about cake and Taylor Swift and complaining about puberty. Or the CAR THING with Sam where it’s a huge description of their relationship that Dean hops in the car seat even though he might not be old enough to even legally DRIVE her, and then Sam gets in the front seat and Dean just squishes him, hauling the seat forward for his tiny legs to reach the pedals. Like, Sam didn’t argue and it didn’t occur to Dean and they only swapped AFTER this bad dynamic caused a stupid mess and crushed Sam? Hello entire codependency metaphor :P

(And I don’t think I need to explain 12x11 since it was so recent and so so awful about Dean D: Oh gosh, you could have just given us the Larry riding montage and no episode and that would have been enough :P)

Anyway as the emotional POV this stuff happens to Dean because changes to his self is the plot idea to help with stuff that’s to come or to explain things that already happened in the main plot, or really OTT situations they want for their own sake, that push the boundaries of his character but seem more to do with the main plot unfolding, make sense to explore through Dean, because his emotional landscape is often plot relevant, and the exploration even if it’s wrapped up in a silly concept, usually makes a lot more sense to apply to him because we already have a vast playground of his characterisation to mess around in. 10x12 and 12x11 especially were calling on everything about Dean. I think the writer even went on Twitter I guess when he was writing it and polled everyone on the most Dean-like things they could think of, and clearly got the answers “music, pie, car and girls” because those were the main metaphors of subverting Dean’s character that he offered.

I don’t think this is to reflect negatively on Sam - he gets some fascinating character stuff but connected to the main plot and not delving him in the same way Dean is delved (I think the imbalance and not understanding how they’re written can make people sad on Sam’s behalf he doesn’t get enough development in the same way Dean gets it, which is often by default when we care about character stuff over plot. I also think the writing falls into ruts of this which HAVE favoured Dean and his emotional arcs over Sam’s plot stuff). But Sam can get some incredible character stuff out of the plot things - I think Sam in Berens episodes is a great example because I’m still reeling from 13x03 and the stuff he said to Jack, because that’s all using the main plot to explore Sam - even if a lot of it was saying obvious stuff we knew about Sam, he doesn’t really say it too often and forcing him to say it out loud in episode THREE means the season is going to have to build on that or fail Sam (and he’s so wrapped up in what happens to Jack I can’t see his character stuff connected to that disappearing :P)

But yeah, him being the “straight man” means that Dean is bouncing off him to be the funny one, and that really reflects on every level of the show, especially when you take humour and replace it with the emotional connection we have to the show in general and humour is just a great way to game that to get the reaction in a positive way, and Sam’s not the serious one so much as he’s dealing with the big stuff, usually, and that can wander off to all sorts of places like his habit of completely hammering down any other feelings to deal with the things that have to be done. Or to do the opposite of scaling up Dean, he can scale down to be the more serious one in a silly episode. Which doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect him - all the episodes where he had to deal with something happening to Dean that put him in charge it really messes him up. Or makes him really good at poker that one time :P

…

Ah, my neighbours have stopped having a 4 way screaming match outside in the street, I’m going to stop typing and go to bed, so no tl;dr here… it’s turning 2am :D

#Asks #WOAH after I hit post a police car showed up #dean analysis #filed under #7x14 #for my own amusement #and #12x11 #for practical reasons

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rilenerocks · 4 years

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A couple of days ago, an old friend of mine sent me these two photos in an email under the subject title “Memories of a Simpler Time.” They were taken in 1971, outside a place called Earthworks, a grocery store which was the center of an effort to build an alternative community in our college town. There was an Earthworks Garage and a bike shop and a restaurant called Metamorphosis, and Strawberry Fields, which still exists in my community as a natural food and dry goods store. There was a drug counseling service called Gemini House just down the street. I lived across from it. We were part of a somewhat loosely connected and yet often, intimately connected group of people, who had basically decided to divorce ourselves from the culture at large to live within a more progressive society of our own design. On campus, there was Record Service, a music store which provided economic fuel for a great number of projects like a community health center, and there was a homemade clothing store called Thimble and Threads. Eventually there was a community resource guide which listed all the services that mushroomed out of that valiant attempt to turn our backs on the heartless culture which was racist, sexist and classist, and which spawned the Vietnam War that was killing our peers. The resource guide was called The Earthworm. My friend who is in the photos wanted to see if I could identify people on those Earthworks steps, aside from the few he remembered. That was ironic because Michael and I are standing about four people away from him, but with our backs to the camera.

Here is the final cover of The Earthworm. I labeled us as I brought that catalog with me to the exhibit I prepared as part of Michael’s celebration of life which took place in December, 2017, seven months after his death. I needed that time to recover from the last months of his life and in fact, the five plus years that preceded his death.

A simpler time. I’ve been thinking a lot about what that might mean in this era when in the U.S., every day for the past three and a half years, staccato bursts of hard-to-assimilate news stories rattle the mind from morning until night. Some people limit their intake of them, attempting to stay calm. For people like me, who can’t look away, there have to be other methods of trying to cope with the madness. But wasn’t there always madness of one kind or another? Is this time any more complex than other times? Is it just that as we exit our youth, life gets more layered which makes coping more complicated and strenuous? That may be partially true for those children who grow up in safe, stable environments. But I know that can’t possibly be the way it is for kids who from the earliest times in their lives, are scrambling to survive amidst all kinds of challenges and dangers.

My mom, a fun-loving person and inveterate storyteller, wove an interesting and evocative tapestry of her life which she readily shared with me and my siblings as we were growing up. Her tales ran the gamut from humorous, entertaining and exciting, to treacherous and frightening. Her childhood was filled with deaths, embarrassments and neglect, and wasn’t very long as she married my dad at only nineteen. Her perceptions of that youth depended on her age at the time she was telling her tales. Sometimes she romanticized being a young girl and talked about how much less complicated life was back in those days. At other times, she bitterly decried all her hardships.

Often, her tales were dramatic and harrowing. When I was a young kid, when she crossed all kinds of parent/child boundaries while sharing her tales. I thought her life was impossibly complex and scary, as she seemed a living miracle for having escaped so much trauma to become a mostly “normal” grownup. And so, inadvertently, she added a pile of worries to my young life, which required me to navigate some significantly adult issues while I was still a kid. I guess that’s why “a simpler time” doesn’t really resonate with me. I’ve always thought life was complex and way more problematic than not. Ironically, the wife of my friend who sent me the photos which sent me off on this train of thought was Julie, who died in March after a lengthy struggle with a stubborn cancer. Over 50 years ago, when I was still a teenager and Julie a scant year older, we dubbed the murky, below-the-surface mysteries of our lives, the “deep debris.” It still seems like an apt description for what life is really like for most people.

Right now, life for me is still that curious mixture of simple and complicated. On one hand, for the foreseeable future, my days are pretty much the same, and fairly limited. I spend most of my time at home. I’m lucky because I can work in my garden instead of being trapped indoors. I’m out there for hours, laboring away. It’s a big yard, too big for me, but here I’ll stay as my daughter and her family live across the street. Another good thing, being able to see them rather than being separated by many miles. I have no idea when I’ll be able to travel anywhere again. The world is full of questions right now, so even though it’s simple figuring out what to do every day, it’s complicated trying to look down the road, wondering how long I’ll be healthy, if I can reach for the goals I’d set for myself, post Michael’s death and pre-pandemic. The advent of the social justice furor of the past few weeks created the only decision-making situation for me – should I as a person in the most vulnerable group for Covid19, leave the safety of my home to participate in a demonstration for a cause I believe in or not? That turned out to be an easier choice than I thought. I absolutely felt the weight of my moral responsibility to attend so I did. But demonstrations won’t be happening every day. So how to maneuver through this deceptively simple new world that is here to stay, whether I like it or not? All I read tells me that in order to stay safe, this limited life is likely to stretch out for much longer than most of us hoped it would. My cost/benefit analysis about staying healthy keeps leading me back to staying close to home. I’m trying to figure out how to readjust my outlook, absent the ability to make plans, so I can avoid sinking into unproductive frustration.

Looking ahead is murky. My hard earned skill of living in the moment is still fairly effective. I think about all the people who’ve navigated the horrors of living in a single cell, with no way out, for years on end. I don’t want to be a spoiled whiner who thinks that this current situation is that big a deal. How did we ever get so entitled and self-centered? I don’t want to become someone I don’t like. So I’ve decided I’m going to look back for awhile. I’m making a personal anthology of both the big and little experiences in my life that have gotten me to where I am today. The national parks I’ve visited are part of my tapestry. The travels I’ve been able to experience and am missing now are great memories. But I’m also interested in thinking about the little bits of life which flesh out how we become the people we are. So far I’m working on lists of the books I’ve read, the movies I’ve seen, the television shows I loved throughout the years. But what’s really been fun is digging around for the small stories and buried facts that don’t often come up in conversation.

My first story is about the fact that I’ve driven over one hundred miles per hour. Which feels really fast, I suspect, to anyone who doesn’t drive race cars. One of the big enticements I used to convince Michael that the institution of marriage wasn’t inherently awful, was to promise that if we actually did it, we’d get enough money to buy a decent vehicle. We wound up with this green Chevy Blazer with a white roof. In the almost ten years we shared before having kids, we took a lot of long road trips. Michael, a born speed demon who didn’t want to be ticketed, bought both a CB radio and a “fuzzbuster,” or radar detector, as must-have equipment for our new vehicle. The CB radio, which we primarily used to communicate with the semi-trailer drivers on the highway, required that we have “handles,” names that we used to identify ourselves to those who’d give us warnings about where the police were hiding to catch speeders. Michael chose, “Swamp Fox” which was the name of an American Revolutionary War officer who was credited with being an impetus behind the development of guerilla warfare, tactics dear to his heart. For the sake of simplicity and easy identification of our vehicle to those with whom we were communicating, my handle choice was “Lady Fox.” When we’d take turns driving, whoever held the wheel handled the CB. I laugh out loud as I remember the lingo that went along with this – “breaker 19 for a southbounder on I-75.” But I did it. Miraculously traffic would move along at 90 mph and higher, so as Michael napped, I’d just press the accelerator, hang on to the wheel and hope for the best. I developed steely nerves bombing away down those roads. Good times.

Another story that I recalled had to do with our visits to a lovely state park located about 30 minutes away from our town. This park has over twenty deep ponds that were reclaimed from strip mining many years ago. While people could canoe and fish there, swimming was prohibited. So of course, swimming is what we decided to do. We brought along some inexpensive floating rafts and our two dogs who were always with us. My little border collie, Ribeye, was extremely sensitive and very attached to me. We found a secluded spot with no one else around, stripped off our clothes, hopped onto the rafts and pushed off from the rocky shore to sun and dip ourselves into the water. Ribeye, who was anxiously pacing the shoreline, decided that the separation was too much for her, leapt into the pond and swam out to me and attempted to join me on the raft. Of course, her nails punctured it, thereby dumping both of us into the drink, just as a group of people were approaching our hidden corner. I can still hear Michael’s uproarious laughter as I swam frantically for the shore and some cover, dragging the crumpled raft with Ribeye happily splashing along beside me. I hadn’t thought about that in years.

As I muck around in the garden, my isolation-reliever, I’m going to practice letting my mind wander back through incidents like these, which collectively, add up to the bigger picture that is my life. Tiny oases that provide temporary escape from the present and which help hold the uncertain future at bay. We’ll see how long this approach lasts.

A Simpler Time…Maybe A couple of days ago, an old friend of mine sent me these two photos in an email under the subject title “Memories of a Simpler Time.” They were taken in 1971, outside a place called Earthworks, a grocery store which was the center of an effort to build an alternative community in our college town.

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 7 years

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Human Resources, pt3

Word Count: 2264 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @anotherotter @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @samaxraph99 @outside-the-government @kingarthurscat @coyote-in-space @originalpottervengerlock Summary: Inspired by the nightmare that working HR for SHIELD would be. Anna Ellis is an HR specialist for SHIELD, and after the Battle of New York, is expected to pass basic field competency. Thankfully she has Coulson to help her out.

“Oh sweet merciful gods. Why me?” I muttered and closed my eyes against the memory of just two nights previous and the masterful way Rick used his body. Kate nudged me.

“Do you know him? He is like sex on a stick,” she whispered.

“He most certainly is. Christ. This is going to be so fucking awkward,” I muttered.

“I am Agent Richard Eriksson. You may call me Agent, or Eriksson. I will be your SO while you are here. Every morning, we will start with a five kilometer run. The goal is to get you down to thirty minutes. There will be incentives for those of you who are able to keep up and improve. And there will be deterrents for those of you who think you are above all this.” Rick’s voice boomed over us. “At the end of the day, we will go for another five k run. Those of you who are able to improve your time from the morning will be dismissed. Those of you who do not will be required to hit the gym for some strength and conditioning exercise.”

“I’m sorry, is the idea that if we’d attacked by aliens again we be able to outrun them?” One of the older women in the front asked. I stifled a snort. It was a good question.

“No, the idea is that cardiovascular fitness is the foundation of a strong body and mind. Your reaction time will be shortened by being in shape,” Rick responded. “Hit the track, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll start with a brisk walk to warm up, and then we’ll get running.”

He gestured to the track and like cows to the slaughter, we all shuffled toward it. I darted wide around him, hoping to avoid a conversation. Luck was not on my side. Rick took a few steps in my direction, and reached out to stop me. I sighed and stared over his shoulder, determined not to blush like a preteen.

“You left a souvenir at my apartment.” It wasn’t quite the icebreaker I would have used.

“If you present me with my panties, I will slap you with an A2-336E so fast you won’t know what hit you,” I threatened.

“If you’ll recall, Anna, I wasn’t aware what agency you were with. You’ll just have to retrieve them when we get home,” he smirked.

“If I’m not allowed to call you Rick, you can start calling me Ellis,” I retorted. It was weak, but I felt boundaries were probably important. He was still unnaturally handsome, and knowing his talents, I knew I would be incredibly weak.

“Oh, we’re not going to be that way, are we? It was mutual, Anna. It was good, and if I’m recalling correctly, you agreed. There’s no need for us to become enemies just because we work under the same banner.”

“Perhaps you missed the part where I snuck out so I wouldn’t have to have this awkward morning after conversation. I don’t do well with awkward morning after conversation,” I admitted, softening just a little. He smiled.

“I don’t usually do the one-night thing at all myself. I was pissed about being sent here for the foreseeable future and –“

“Don’t say another word. I know exactly what you mean,” I laughed. “Despite what you may think, I’m not actually a femme fatale.”

Rick laughed and pushed ran a hand through his hair.

“I see you more as a school teacher,” he winked. “Hit the track, Anna. You’ve got miles to go before you see any rest.”

I ambled over to Kate. She stared at me expectantly, but I didn’t divulge anything. Partly because a lady shouldn’t kiss and tell and partly because I’d only just met her. Rick took his place at the head of our group and led us off on the ‘brisk walk’ portion of the run. I would have qualified it as a slow jog, myself. I felt to the back of the group as soon as we actually began running, and could feel my lungs burning in minutes. I pushed for as long as I could, but the moment I saw someone else start to walk, I slowed down, gasping for air.

“Ms. Ellis. This is not your finest look.” I heard the familiar voice and turned my head. And then promptly stopped in my tracks, overcome with the ridiculous and amazing sight before me. Agent Coulson was jogging on the spot beside me. But more than that, he had a white terry sweatband across his forehead, with matching wristbands at each wrist. His SHIELD t-shirt fit better than I expected, but it was tucked into a pair of obscenely short black running shorts that left a lot of his pale thighs exposed. He had white tube socks pulled up to his knees and his running shoes were plain black. He looked ridiculous. I blinked and bit my lip. And covered my mouth in horror.

“What are you doing here?” I finally managed, a nervous giggle fluttering out at the end of my sentence.

“It’s the glasses, isn’t it? Women always start laughing about my glasses,” he deadpanned. I hadn’t even noticed the glasses, but found myself just as mesmerized by them as I was by the rest of his ensemble. The thick black frames made him look more like he belonged in the science division than operations.

“You are a sight.” I noticed the pack of runners pulling away and turned to begin jogging again. Coulson fell in beside me.

“My team and I are here for the training. Agents May and Ward are teaching hand-to-hand. I’ll be teaching weapons and target. I was just heading out for my morning run when I saw you and thought I’d tag along. Eriksson won’t mind if I bring up the rear, and keep the ducklings from straying.” He spoke effortlessly. I was having a hard time keeping my breathing even.

“Awesome,” I managed.

“Lengthen your stride, Ms. Ellis. You’re taking teeny steps and it’s making you work harder. Haven’t you ever run before?” He asked.

“Not distances,” I gasped, doing as he said. Within a few feet, I could feel my heart rate slowing just enough that I didn’t think I would die. Then my breathing came easier. I still couldn’t talk, but it turns out Coulson is really chatty when he’s running.

“I ran track in High School and College. I also did Biathlon. Have you heard of that? It’s a winter sport. It’s cross-country skiing and shooting. I was ranked nationally. Guess how SHIELD found me?” He asked, rhetorically. I glanced beside me at him, trying to imagine sweatbanded, tubesocked Coulson as remotely cool enough to do track. Biathlon was as dorky as it sounded, so I bought that. We slowly caught up to the pack.

“Biathlon, eh? I think we did that in high school phys ed one year,” I wheezed. He chuckled.

“I don’t recall seeing that in your personnel file, Ms. Ellis.” He wasn’t even sweating yet, the bastard.

“You know that sounds really creepy, right?” I asked. “Also, if you’re so damn familiar with my history, you can call me Anna.”

“Would you be comfortable calling me Phil?” He responded.

“No.” I shook my head.

“Then I’ll keep it formal for now.”

“Can you just drop the ‘Ms.’ part then? It makes me feel like a librarian,” I requested. He chuckled again.

“Sure,” he agreed.

I slowed to a walk, and was pleased to see that everyone else in my cohort was looking as winded and pathetic as I was. Fury was out of his mind thinking this could be accomplished in three weeks. After what was not nearly long enough, Coulson nudged me and nodded ahead of us, urging me to jog again. I sighed and picked up my pace. He kept at it every time I stopped running, letting me rest for just shy of long enough and then prodding me forward again. It was like my own special hell.

Rick finally gestured for us to stop. I grabbed a couple of bottles of water and collapsed into the grass on the infield of the track. I drank one bottle, and poured the other in my face. Kate flopped down beside me and did the same thing. We lay there staring at the clouds flitting across the sky for a few minutes until I saw Rick approaching Coulson. I sat up, horrified.

“Oh please, please, please, please don’t say anything,” I mumbled under my breath. Kate gave me a puzzled look but said nothing. Rick and Coulson spent a few minutes chatting with one another, and then Rick pointed in our direction. I held in my cringe and focused on untying and tying the laces of my shoe, as though I wasn’t desperately trying to hear what they were talking about. Coulson slapped Rick on the shoulder and picked up a bottle of water on his way over.

“Agent Eriksson seems to think you are capable of a better time than you made today.” He sat down in the grass and gave me a questioning look.

“Don’t know why,” I shrugged.

“You’ll improve tomorrow. You should hit the showers though, ladies. We’ll be meeting for weapons and target in about 25 minutes.” He pushed himself up and headed off the field. I hauled myself to my feet and walked directly to Rick.

“Agent Eriksson. I was under the impression you wanted to play nice?” I asked. He looked up from the tablet he was fiddling with and smiled.

“Oh, I do.” He reminded me of a wolf, all toothy and leering. “But I also don’t want to compete with captain sweatband. And he was acting interested.”

“Agent Coulson and I have worked together on a number of projects. Don’t mistake his professional courtesy for a coworker for anything but that,” I snapped. “And for the record, the testosterone-driven need to possess? It’s a huge turn off. Treat me like a human if you want to play nice. Do not treat me like I’m some sort of fucking possession or prize. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” he nodded. I stalked toward the D dorm, but turned and walked back to him.

“And another thing. You are very, and I mean very, talented. And sexy. And you seemed lovely outside the bedroom too. So yeah. Don’t mess up all of this,” I waved my hand around him generally, “by being a dick to my friend.”

I left him gaping at me as I walked back to the dorms to clean up.

Bless Coulson for being a lovely person, but weapons was the most boring class I’d ever taken, and I’d had to take economics in university. I was fighting to stay awake by fifteen minutes into his description of the standard issue sidearm SHIELD used, but I’d caught enough to know it weighed about a pound and a half.

Notetaking had saved my ass in Econ, so I tried taking them, but it really wasn’t helping. I was secretly pleased that I was sitting at the back of the classroom, where Coulson maybe wouldn’t see me struggling to stay awake.

“I think we should break for coffee. Some of you are fading. Be back in fifteen,” he announced. I snapped my head up, sure I was turning as red as a tomato. Caught. I slipped out the back door of the lecture hall and made my way to the coffee kiosk, hoping to beat the crowd.

“As big as you have please,” I asked.

“Anything in that?” The server asked. I shook my head.

“Nope. Black, please.” I reached into my purse to pull out some cash, and was surprised by a hand reaching over my shoulder with a bill in it.

“Like her soul. Can you please make that two, Grace?” Coulson was apparently buying me a coffee. Grace handed me my cup and made change for Coulson.

“Like my soul? Ouch,” I nudged Coulson with my elbow. He just gave me that thousand-yard stare I’d learned was classic Coulson. “Thank you, by the way.” I tipped my cup at him and headed to the outside courtyard. He followed, and sat down beside me.

“How are you going to manage handling a sidearm if you don’t know which one is standard at SHIELD?” He asked, taking a sip from his coffee.

“You mean the Smith and Wesson M&P?” I cocked an eyebrow. “Dude, I’m tired, but I’m not stupid.”

“What is the most impressive thing about the M&P?” He quizzed me. I sighed.

“Well, for me, it would be that it’s nice and light, and has a short trigger pull,” I responded. Coulson looked a little surprised. “Oooh! You thought I was sleeping and not paying any attention! I was trying to stay awake. I was taking copious notes.”

He held out my notepad. I was busted.

“La la la, this is so boring. Blah blah guns. Blah blah bang. Blah blah shooting,” he read, in the driest tone I’d ever heard.

“Or you know, I read the specs at work one day?” I tried. He laughed.

“Honesty looks better on you, Ellis.”

“And here I thought it was my pretty smile you liked best,” I teased. He smirked.

“You should get back to class before your instructor marks you tardy.” He stood up and walked back inside. I finished my coffee and made my way back to class in my own time, careful to slip in the door just before Coulson started lecturing again.

#avengers fanfic #avengers fanfic with OFC #Phil Coulson x OFC

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bloojayoolie · 5 years

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Alive, Being Alone, and Bad: Follow April 25 A MOTHER'S WORST FEAR The Door to Freedom.. The last thing I remember telling the police before they took me away was where Arabella's diapers were and how to take care of her. I felt confused scared and in shock at the thought of not being with my daughter all the time....having to uphold some ideal image of what a mother should be For those who don't know my story it probably feels like I just dropped a bomb on you so let's start at the very beginning... When I first found out I was pregnant the first emotion I remember feeling was anger At that time in my life I wasn't ready for a child. I was busy chasing guys, having sex, and working 11 hour 'dream job' shifts, and contemplating going to vet school. I thought I was 'connected and living the life but I wasn't. I was connected to a deeper drive. A drive to be good' at all costs...a drive to subscribe to what I thought on some level would award me love. You know? THE AMERICAN DREAM... Go to college get a degree build a family etc. None of it felt easy. It often felt like trying to swim against a strong current...the current being my heart. I subscribed to the american dream for a while and even now, as I look back, I wouldn't change the lessons I learned and how it inevitably led me to where I am today but before we get there back to the story.. When I got pregnant I was technically adult (26) but in many ways I was stll a child inside...I hadn't broken free from the constraints of expectations I had taken on from my parents and society. I was dead inside and using sex, work, social media, and food to cope with it. After I found out I was pregnant I considered abortion. Iremember my mom had told me she had one before yet something in me told me no. I wanted to go through with it even though I had no clue who I was or what I was doing. Time passed and my pregnancy didn't get any easier. Work was a struggle. I remember going to farmers markets selling dog treats at 30 weeks after my soul cat suddenly died in my arms. I was at an was shot. I felt alone more thanI ever had and relied heavily on my partner I time low. My self esteem to be there when he wasn't 'home' either I soon got a job as a secretary and found myself following the footsteps of my mother. She was a secretary when she was pregnant with me... Working for 'the man' while her dreams desires passions were put on hold to make a living to make a life for me. She wanted to give me the freedom she never had and the security that she never felt. Being the oldest female she became a mom before she was ready. She had to grow up before she was ready to help her mom who was crumbling as a mostly single mother of 5. I remember hearing stories about grandma lashing out in anger at all 5 kids and imagined that she must've felt trapped too..in this dynamic that has been going on for a LONG time. The cycle came here to break. If I knew what it would take to break this cycle I wouldn't have chosen the path I've walked. I would've told myself it would be too painful and wrong and yet my soul set everything up perfectly and whether I liked it or not. I had signed up for the death of the mother image whether I liked it or not. I chose my path. МОTHERHOOD... I've never been one to pretend to like something I don't and motherhood was one of those dislikes for me. The expectations of motherhood my brain downloaded for the sake of inclusion and connection (as a mother) fucking sucked. I bucked kicked and screamed at them the whole way. My anger was always bubbling beneath the surface ready to come out and react at every 'little" thing. Yet, thing is it WASNT little." It was never about the spilled milk, the poopy messes, or the loud toys. It was about how deprived of love, passion, and turn on I was. My cup was more than empty so the little things always came out BIG. didn't have the emotional bandwidth to deal with myself much less another human being. I remember it getting so bad that I ended up screaming in my Arabella's face when she was an infant because I felt sleep deprived and poweriess to what she needed. Her dad was asleep on the couch pretending to stay asleep because he had work. I felt utterly alone and enslaved to the needs of another human being. It was the perfect recipe for anger and resentment. aPSUa I was selling my soul for money and 'cookies' following the footsteps of a civilized American mom while my wild heart cried out in pain so deep that not even I could hear her. I had pushed her down so far that the only ways I knew how to deal with the grief of that separation at the time was reactivity sex and work. I felt trapped in a world I didn't want to live in. I felt enslaved to an image wanted to shatter. I wanted more for my life and Arabella and felt powerless to creating it especially under the belief that a mother MUST ALWAYS be with her children. I mean if that was true then I was fucked and so was she. When Arabella was about 1 I started going on Tinder. I felt a hunger rising in me. I wanted to feel wanted again and sex seemed like the next best thing. A quick and easy fix to patch over the gaping grief l couldn't bare to look at. After I started meeting quys for quick fucks it became clear how much I wanted to escape my reality as a mother. It became clear that I wanted to feel pleasure...that I wanted to feel ALIVE and even though sex seemed like the answer it wasn't. Time passed and I got bored with Tinder. I started focusing on my career and ended up meeting a guy at an intuitive arts fair. There was IMMEDIATE sexual chemistry. We started dating and my sex drive went through the roof. Not only was he better than the shotty tinder material he was well seasoned in his sexual ity. He gave me permission to express my sexuality in new and exciting ways that I had been longing for. I felt alive again and I attributed it to him. I spent as much time with him as possible and would have Baby sitters and family to watch Arabella just about every weekend. I was addicted to feeling alive thinking it came from HIM. I had no idea that he was pointing to something that I had long forgotten within me. I often felt wrong for having so much fun (without Arabella) when we were apart I never thought of her enough to text to see how she was. I felt guilty thinking that I should be like every other mom and sacrifice myself for her but deep down I knew that that wouldn't help me OR her. I started to see that the more I was happy the more she was happy. It was this fleeting happiness that had become dependent on whether or not I was with my bf or not. The less time I spent with him the more I went into feeling angry and powerless. I was relying on him to BE my source of pleasure. I still had no idea what it felt like to feel turned on in my own light. I spent a lot of time online sharing emotional videos of how motherhood was wearing on me. I eventually started talking about sex. I was having so much fun with my bf and my online followers that I made a sex group wherel encouraged us all to share sex stories in a safe space. As the posts trickled in a mom had mentioned how she rarely has sex because her kids are always around. Wanting to push the boundaries of society and not really thinking responded saying "Oh I've had sex in the same room hlla before I was bouncing on his cock while she was bouncing on his chest. as So of course, given that no context was shared around this statement, I started receiving messages telling me "you're going to rot in jail." This is still the hardest part of my story to share because of how shocking it is and how much it shuts people down and kicks their judgements into overdrive. The only thing that keeps me from NOT sharing it is my commitment to the bigger message behind all of this So context wise (if you're still coherently listening and curious)is: A was 2.5 at the time asleep in her bed next to mine. My bf and I woke up before her and started having sex and she woke up seeing me bouncing thinking I was playing so she started bouncing on her bed and came over to where we were I didn't want to shame her so I didn't just jump up and freak out. I allowed the situation to dissipate by focusing on the play aspect INSTEAD of the sexual. At the time I didn't know what the term sex positive meant.. All I knew was that I didn't want her to experience the sexual shame and shut down I experienced...that I didn't want her to feel a sense of 'wrong when it came sex And what gets twisted is that a sex positive approach is seen as grooming on INVOLVING children in sexual acts which is the direction CPS and the cops took my situation. My post was turned in a long with a picture of me and A in the bathtub where she was pouring water on my leg which was made to be perverted by a woman who had her chief of police husband and news reporter file a police report On the afternoon of August 1st I got a call from CPS and set up a visit with seize them. Later that night the police broke down my door with a warrant my electronics. They found a picture I had taken of A playing naked in a tub in my bfs backyard while he was sitting naked on the couch in the background. That was, as you can imagine, enough for the conservative county of Montgomery TX to take me in under the charge 'indecent exposure with a child At that point I was in pure shock. I couldn't feel a thing or smile for months and even though my story is dramatic my hope is that you don't get SO caught up in the drama that you miss the bittersweet beauty of the journey itself. Shock was the beginning of the mom image shattering for me....Resistance was the second. I didn't know how to let go so the first thing I went to to cope was work. (self development and hustling). I was determined to make everything right. I clung even more to the image of a 'good mom and what that would mean. Thoughts would run through my head like... What kind of mom doesn't have her shit together for her daughter? What kind of mom doesn't work and take care of everything? What kind of mom loses' her daughter? What kind of mom doesn't have a nice place and a school set up for her daughter? and whether I was aware of these thoughts or not they were driving me. The hard truth underneath it all was that I was grieving. I had been grieving most of my life. I thought I was grieving Arabella but through lots of retreats therapy tears and shifts I came to realize that what I was REALLY grieving was my heart (that Arabella so beautifully reflected back to me). I was grieving my dreams desires and passions that I had pushed down rejected and shamed. I was grieving my love. I had become so shut down afraid and walled off from the world that the big beautiful bold sensual radiant parts of me had become dormant. What first felt like a loss turned out to be the biggest miracle of my life. A miracle of love rising in in the 'impossible' Learning to dance through the biggest storm of my life was a miracle. To be as open loving and happy as I am now is a miracle (pain and beauty included). It was not easy to face my sexual shame, grief, and choices that led to an unfulfilled life. I was not easy to see that I was the one who created my life down to every last detail all the way from my childhood to now. The separation with Arabella being a huge part of that. And the joy and the sensual aliveness that has come from that (mess and all) is everything I've always wanted AND it is a path I would've never consciously chosen for myself. I have been reborn and as dramatic as my path has been I wouldn't change it for the world because know if I did I wouldn't be here speaking to it and delivering a message that has the power to create new worlds where women are free from the role of 'mother. If you're a mom still reading this I want to tell you something from my heart to yours from the depths of my soul to yours...as much as you may believe your role to be your children there is more love and purpose for you here. The world needs your light. I had no idea what the world was missing from me until started to come back to life laughing playing dreaming and creating. The color flooded back through the tears and the willingness to love again...I began to remember my innocence my DESIRE, my essence, and my wild heart that never burned out...my love that knows no bounds. Living my pleasure is the greatest gift I can possibly give myself and the children that choose me as their vessel to experience theirs. I'm traveling, dancing, and living in the city of my choice with incredible supportive friends. It seems like it wasn't that long ago when I was looking out through a glass wall wondering when it would be my turn to play and have fun. I sat on the sidelines pouting. I forgot who I was and that, with every cell of my being, I have the power to make my dreams come true. LOVE created the miracle that is now my life and when you say "But what about your daughter?" My response is this...she is not mine to claim. She is on her path and l am on mine. We are forever connected. I choose to trust that every decision I make simply because it feels good is a love letter I write not only to her but to every child woman and man on this planet One of the most brain dead, irresponsible “mothers” in existence. TD:LR in comments

#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Alive #Being Alone #a

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