#it has passed 4AM at time of posting this in full

[rhynerd]

Instead of going to sleep before 3AM tonight I have decided to take my copy of audacity and do something a little different then what I usually do with it: Take a mashup that combines Louie Zong's song Hello World with a couple of covers, and then mash it up with even more covers. Still not sure if I quite got all of them synced up enough since my methodology was basically "record all of them and then try and line them up enough so that each version of a specific beat is aligned," but personal test runs seemed to have been enough? Hopefully this will be seen more with love than a declaration that I am a dirty thief that needs to go to hell, but before we discuss that let's at least give credit where credit is due and list all the artists/voices:

The Original Hello World by Louie Zong

The Miku Cover by Kichi

The Moonbase Alpha Cover by lizard_located

Lyricwulf's piano version, as used by lizard_located and canelín

The Eleanor Forte version made by Oten (I did not include EDEN's attempt from a year or so earlier as I was worried they'd be too similar)

The Leon Cover by Cherlieisntthere

canelín's cover

Rikki Don't Lose That Number by Steely Dan (I used a very small part of the opening because a small part of the ending fadeout reminded me of the very start of this song and it felt like I needed to combine the two)

If you are any of the folks on this list, say the word and I still strike this post down, but otherwise I hope you all enjoy this chorus of lonely robots.

[samkerrworshipper]

lap dance | alexia putellas x reader

the stripper r x post world champs alexia that everyone has been desperate for in my inbox, made for my horny girlies! wrote this instead of listening to my english lecture 😝 so enjoy the pure smut

warnings: strapons, smuts, cunnilingus, lap dances, stripping 18+ dni

You could feel the adrenaline and one shot of tequila you’d been given coursing through your body as you walked up towards the room you’d been assigned. The dressing gown that was covering your body very quickly started to feel a little bit too thin. You passed a lot of women, some still in their playing uniforms which told you they were players, some were similarly dressed to you, some were workers and security. Nobody paid much attention to you, why would they, you were background noise to them, not a person that was made to be looked at, or not at least like that. You let your heeled feet waltz down the hallway, trying to strum up as much confidence as you could, trying to lift your head from the floor so you looked like you were supposed to be here.

You peered up at the numbers across the doors in the hallway, watching as they slowly ticked closer to the one that was written on the piece of paper in your hands. When you finally did make it to the door you took a deep laboured breath, this shouldn’t have been stressing you out, it was your job, you did this for a living, but for some reason tonight it felt different, like there was more pressure on you. You’d trembled when you’d read the name of the woman you were to see, her reputation preceded her and you couldn’t help but feel a little bit intimidated by the thought of being in a room on your own with her. You mustered up the courage to bring your hand up to the door, knocking on it three times before taking a step back, waiting patiently for it to be opened up.

It didn’t take very long, a few seconds at most before you heard the lock unclick and the door swing open. The woman met you in the doorway, wearing her playing jersey, playing shorts and her medal slung around her neck. Her mostly washed out pink hair was a mess around her shoulders, unkempt, like she’d just climbed out of bed, which you supposed she probably could have. It was nearing 4am now and it wasn’t unlikely that between the partying and celebrations she’d tried to get a wink in, you didn’t really believe so, more just blamed in on the fact she’d just played a full game of soccer and probably partied her heart out, the celebrations were still taking place downstairs, the steady sound of music coursing through the hotel carpet.

“Do you plan to stand in my doorway all night?”

Her voice was hoarse, probably from the alcohol and partying, it added a different level of sexuality to her voice, deepening it, making it rougher.

“Sorry.”

You gulped, your voice sounded so meek in comparison to hers, normally you were cocky, confident but she had an effect on you, made you second guess every single thing that you were feeling or thinking.

“Don’t be sorry, are you coming in or not?”

Her lip curled up into a sardonic smile, her head tilting at me from her spot leaning against the door, her mouth hanging open and sinful thoughts plaguing my mind of just how much that mouth could do.

“Yes, sorry.”

You tucked your head back down towards the floor, letting her open the door further to you and you taking some very tentative steps into the space. She clicked the door again behind you, the click sending a jolt of shocks across your body, the sudden realisation that you were alone with the woman in her hotel room starting to set in.

She walked out in front of you, swishing her way past your body over into the corner, where a lone armchair sat. She sat down, her legs settling in a manspread and her elbows falling down onto them, her eyes falling onto you. You could feel her gaze, and suddenly you felt so self conscious, something you’d never experienced before, your job was to strut around half naked, self consciousness was something that you’d lost over the years, but now it was all you could feel.

“Why don’t you show me what you’ve got on underneath that robe?”

Her voice was thicker, still coarse and almost grainy but less so, like she was trying to emit her dominance in the situation.

You pulled at the tie at your waist, you’d made the decision to pick a red set, spanish colours. You shrugged the robe off of your shoulders, letting the silk pool at your feet. You’d never felt so insecure in your own skin, allowing your eyes to lift up to the older woman’s. She wore a rather tantalising smirk, her pearly teeth showing to you. You bit down on your lip, nibbling on it slightly as you waited for her to say something, normally you’d initiate, or you’d start something but something about this felt so different, so much more personal than you knew it truly was.

“Come here.”

Her voice was commanding, so much so that you couldn’t help but propel yourself forward towards the woman, only stopping when you were a few centimetres away from your own legs knocking against her knees. Her hand reached up to you, coming into contact with your knee and rubbing your milky skin softly with her olive palm.

“What’s your name?”

Her eyes were curious, they betrayed everything else she was portraying to you.

“Y/n.”

She smirked at you a little bit, nodding as she continued to roll your skin through her hands, like you were putty in her hands.

“I’m Alexia, although you probably already know that. How old are you, y/n?”

Your name rolled off of her tongue so perfectly, her spanish accent mixing with the coarseness of her tone sent your mind to places that you could never explain.

“19.”

There was only a ten year age difference between you and yet she felt so much older, so much more experienced, so much more accomplished than you ever would be.

“So young, how long have you been in the business?”

You gulped, Alexia seemed so genuinely interested in you, it was weird, you’d never had a client take any particular interest in you.

“17.”

It wasn’t an age you were proud of, and normally you wouldn’t openly admit that to client, but something about Alexia made you feel like you had to be honest with her.

Her hand kept at your leg, rubbing it ever so gently.

“You want to be here?”

You nodded at Alexia, absolutely no hesitation in your mind.

“Okay then sweet, why don’t you do a dance for me.”

Her voice was so calm, like she was talking about her breakfast. Her hand released from your leg, pushing you a few centimetres away from her, allowing you the room to make up your mind. One of her eyebrows rose, a small chuckle leaving her lips as her eyes raked over your body for the first time, admiring the red lingerie that accentuated your body perfectly. The pieces that you’d picked hugged your curves perfectly, you looked like a goddess. She let out a drawn out exhale, which was enough to give you some confidence, enough to perk you up a little bit.

Alexia waved you over to her lap, walking forwards so you were standing inbetween her legs, looking down at her.

“So pretty.”

Her words were murmured, a chesty whisper that was meant for only you.

“Turn around.”

You obeyed her, swivelling on your heels so you were facing nothing but wall. She quickly grabbed your hips, pulling you down directly so you were sitting on her lap. You gasped slightly at the sudden contact, it was nothing you weren’t used to, hell some clients threw you around like you were a ragdoll, but it surprised you all the same even though you knew it was coming.

“I know calm, bebita, calm.”

Her words were cooed directly into your ear, her hot breath brushing against the hairs on your neck. She gently wrapped her arm around your waist, running her hands from your knees to your hips at an agonisingly slow pace, you unconsciously opened up your legs on her lap, completely opening yourself up for her.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

My words were soft, a whisper, she grunted in response, her hot breath continuing to brush against your neck. You took a quick breath to relax yourself before leaning down against Alexia, pressing your ass down against her lap, beginning to grind up and down on her. Alexia, involuntarily, bucks her hips up into you almost immediately, and you smile at your achievement. Her hands begin to guide you, up and down her body as you grind down onto her, slowly finding your rhythm and rocking back and forth on her body. This is something you know you are good at, something that you know how to do.

Eventually you build up the confidence to reach down to your side, pulling Alexia’s hand from your hip and bringing it up to your breast, letting her hand graze over the silk and lace. Alexia palmed her hand over your tit, her hand almost big enough to hold it in one hand. You leant back into her, letting her hand explore the material and skin, her fingers pressing down, squeezing your breast, she huffs into your ear, clearly affected by your motions. It was normal, you witnessed it at work all the time clients getting hot and bothered, however, this wasn’t just any client, this was Alexia Putellas, world champion, the very woman you gushed over when she appeared on your tv, the same woman who was now panting in your ear.

You feel some worry wash over you as you continue to dance on her lap, using your heels to help you grind down harshly against her bare legs. You shouldn’t be getting wet over a client. Was she a client? Is she paying for you, or is the Spanish team paying for you? A million thoughts were running across your mind, so many unprofessional thoughts. You didn’t allow yourself to engage in sexual acts with a client, just a dance, so this must have been more than that. You were thinking so hard, your brain in another dimension that you didn’t even realise Alexia’s hand running down over your clothed heat. The only thing that managed to snap you out of your trance was when Alexia’s palm rubbed down against your covered clit.

“So wet bebita, all for me?”

Her voice was teasing, gentle but cheeky, like she was trying to edge some kind of fire out of you, some kind of passion, and it worked. You lived for this kind of attention, this kind of adrenaline. You swivelled around quickly, diving into her lips. Her tongue quickly pushed to your lips, requesting entry that you very quickly granted. She grabbed your hips, lifting them up so your legs were placed on either side of her hips, so you were straddling her waist. The only sound in the room was the sound of you and Alexia’s mouths against each other, her lips very quickly asserting dominance in the kiss, her hand finding its way to your chin and gripping it brutally.

She tasted like tequila and champagne, a combination that was welcome to your tongue. Your mouths matched each other perfectly, working against each other in synchronisation. Your hand fell to the hem of Alexia’s jersey, tugging at it. She seemed to get the memo, reaching down to meet your hand at the hem and tugging it quickly over her head, only breaking your kiss for a split second to throw the jersey somewhere across the room. You continued grinding down against her hips as her lips continued their assault on yours.

Eventually, when Alexia’s actions really begin to get to you, you slid yourself off of her hips, ungracefully landing on the floor between her legs and beginning to press a series of kisses to her torso, her abs rock hard under your lips, a perfect contrast to the her soft lips. Her breath hitched when your mouth connected with her clothed mound, making you smile up at her with hooded eyes, your eyelashes fluttering up at her innocently. Her pupils were completely blown, her hazel eyes meeting your own from your spot on the floor.

You ever so carefully hooked your fingers in the band of her shorts, tugging them down her muscular thighs and calves, leaving her glistening, beautiful sex right in front of your face. Her breathing quickens almost immediately the second your lips make contact with her heat, your soft pillowy lips pressing down gently on her clit in a quick peck. She moaned almost immediately, her back arching against the armchair as you let your head dip lower, your tongue darting out of your mouth and sliding perfectly through her wetness, you leave open mouth kisses all over her thighs and pussy. You lick a thick stripe up and down with your tongue, revelling in the way that she moaned deeply at your ministrations. You begin to suck on her clit, leading her to take your hair in her hands, tugging you up further into her pool of heat. You continue to suck shamelessly on her clit, enjoying the amount of pleasure that she was getting from your throat and the amount of pleasure you were getting from her hand being entangled in your hair.

She begins to get frantic with her thrusts against your face, and as soon as you begin to bite on her clit it was clear that she was teetering on the edge, her legs shaking wildly on either side of your head and her thighs tightening around your head as she began to hump your head, grinding down against your lips furiously chasing her own release. You moved down, pushing your tongue into her pussy and it was apparently enough to send Alexia over the edge, her legs spasming and her cunt convulsing around your tongue, illicit moans and dirty words flowing freely from her mouth as you kissed her cunt gently and licked up the cum leaking from her hole as the aftershocks ran rampant through her body.

As her body began to still she pulled you up off the carpet by your hair, reaching out for your waist and bringing you to come and sit down on her lap. She pulled you into a gentle kiss, her lips moving gently against yours and absorbing the taste of her on your tongue. Alexia pulled at your bra, reaching around to the back of the red lace and unclicking the clasp, helping you to pull the straps over your shoulders and then fling the bra somewhere onto the hotel room floor, joining Alexia’s shorts and your robe. Alexia’s hands immediately went to your breasts, rolling the flesh in her hands and groaning at the feeling of your pebbled nipples in her hands. Every touch from her hands set you on fire, a wave of incredible shocks that went straight to the wet patch between your legs.

Alexia’s kiss slowly got more heated, her energy rejuvenated and apparently her sexual desire heightening again. One of her hands travelled down to the band of your panties, snapping it against your hips, Alexia clearly finding joy in the moan of mixed pain and pleasure that you enjoyed so much. She smirked against your lips, her practised fingers dancing across your skin drawing intricate patterns over the surface.

You moaned easily into her mouth, the feeling of her hands pinching and prodding at your skin being absolutely delightful. It lit a passion inside of you, a fire that couldn’t be put out, not until Alexia was finally touching the parts of you that needed her the most.

“Please.”

Your words were muffled by her lips, but she understood them, understood exactly what you needed, she still wanted to tease you though, still wanted to work you up.

“What do you want bebita? What do you want from me?”

You moaned again into her mouth, your hips rocking against her lap and your body leaning into wherever her hand would lay itself, chasing her, chasing anything she would give you.

“Fuck, ma’am, fuck me please.”

Alexia smirked against your lips, detaching them and reaching down to your neck, latching them onto your soft skin and beginning to suck and bite at the sensitive spots that littered your neck.

“Such good manners I think I can do that for you, get up on the bed for me niña bonita, on your back, panties off.”

Your whole body shook with her words, you immediately leapt off of her lap, jumping straight onto the bed as to not disobey her, flipping yourself over so your head was resting on the pillows and your legs were laying open for her, you quickly pulled your panties off, slipping them out from under your ass and down your legs, readying yourself for her as she’d asked.

Alexia stumbled around the foot of the bed, picking up something from her suitcase, you very quickly discovered that something was a strap on, one with a rather large clear dildo attached to it. Alexia very quickly pulled the strap on, adjusting the harness quickly so it was fastened to her hips before jumping up beside you on the bed.

She leant over the top of you, her face mere centimetres away from your face as she smirked down at you, her tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth. With a split second her lips were no longer hanging above your own, instead pressed to your wetness. It was pure ecstasy, enough to throw you over the edge immediately. Alexia was gentle, clearly working you up to what was lying between her legs.

You were a soaking mess, your back arching against the sheets and sinful moans flowing like a waterfall from your mouth. Alexia slowly began to work a knuckle into you, when she found no resistance she began to pump the finger in and out, gently working in it and out of your wetness.

“Alexia, please, fuck, more.”

Alexia obliged your request, beginning to work a second one in, again finding no resistance and beginning to piston the fingers in and out of your hole, curling them gently upwards. She was pushing you, edging you up, but you knew that this wasn’t the main event, this wasn’t what she was building up to. So you let her work you up, moans and curses cascading from your lips as Alexia’s fingers put you in a near drugged up state, pure pleasure fueling your body. She pushed you until you were a stuttering mess, before removing her fingers completely.

She moved up your body, coming up to meet you in a tantalising kiss, her lips were a dream, the mix of alcohol and pleasure on her tongue something so inexplicably perfect that you were sure it had to be a imagination.

Alexia’s mouth was perfection, sliding against yours in complete rhythm.

“Do you want me to fuck you bebita, pound you into the mattress?”

You moaned shamelessly into her mouth, nodding your head quickly, you pleasured haze not being enough to stop you from telling Alexia just how much you wanted that.

“Please, fuck, Alexia, please fuck me.”

Alexia once again smirked sardonically against your lips, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards.

You felt the silicone rubbing against your folds, gently caressing the wetness before locating your hole, Alexia pushing just the tip in, leaving you desperate for more. You whined at her, making your displeasure at her teasing evident.

“C’mon bebita, use your words, ask me for the rest.”

You felt a furious blush rising on your cheeks, you pushing your head into your shoulder as you suddenly felt very shy from the words of the footballer.

“No hiding from me, tell me what you want, and I’ll give you it.”

Alexia reached down to your face, pushing it out of your shoulder so you were face to face with her, hazel eyes bearing down on you.

“Please fuck me, please fill me up.”

Alexia obeyed your request immediately, thrusting her cock into you fully. You moaned at the stretch, Alexia stilling her movements to let you adjust to the sudden, but very welcome intrusion. As soon as you nodded at her she began moving, starting with slow and deep strokes, you mindlessly pushing your hips against hers to meet her at every single thrust, it’s magical, indescribable pleasure. Alexia’s hands come up to your breasts and her mouth once again finds your neck, attacking it brutally and leaving marks and bites all over it. You can feel yourself beginning to come undone, and it is then that you realise Alexia’s medal is still dangling from her neck, the gold piece of metal swaying back and forth between her breasts as she quickens her thrusts, beginning to pound in and out of you. It’s a beautiful sight, something no artist could capture.

Your legs begin to tremble, a clear sign that you are nearing your high and just as you are about to tell Alexia you are going to cum, she removes contact from you completely, leaving you vulnerable and wanting on the mattress.

“Alexia.”

You whine at her, your pussy clenching around air, instead of Alexia’s cock that a few mere seconds ago had been filling you to the brim.

She circled your hole with her tip, teasing, you’re grateful for the contact but also so desperate for more.

“Beg for me amor.”

This time you felt no shame asking for what you wanted, felt no shame telling Alexia that.

“Please Alexia, put it back in, please give me your cock, I’ve been good for you haven’t I? Fuck me, please? Please make me cum, I’m trying so hard to be good for you, I’ll be so good, please.”

Your words seemed to be enough for Alexia, the woman began to wildly thrust into you, her hands and lips restarting their previous movements up again, this time with more edge, more urgency. This time when you found yourself on the edge Alexia didn’t retract her movements, instead wheyour legs began to tremble she began to fasten her movements. She fucked you like she knew every part of your body, like she knew you like the back of her own palm.

“Alexia, fuck, fuck, going to cum, please let me cum.”

She nodded at you and that was enough permission for you, enough fuel to send you plummeting over the edge into an exquisite orgasm, like you’d never experienced. You saw stars, your vision going pitch black as the pure pleasure coursed all the way through your bones and body, sending shocks and unmeasurable amounts of pleasure that Alexia had given you.

Alexia slowed her movements, although did not cease her thrusts completely, slowly bringing you down from your high. As soon as the big wave faded you regained your vision and enough of your sense to feel just how overstimulated you were. You mewled at Alexia, pushing her away from you and she slowly but surely withdrew, collapsing beside you on the bed and pulling your head into her chest as you came down from your high.

She placed gentle kisses on your forehead and jawbone, watching lovingly as you slowly came back to earth, slowly beginning to regain more energy. You gazed up at her, a post orgasm dazed bliss being the only thing displayed on your face. You looked at Alexia, realising she had now removed her explicit appendage and was lying beside you on the bed, bare beside the medal that she still had hanging around her throat.

Everything about how she was treating you was so intimate, so gentle, so unlike anything you ever experienced with your other clients. To most of the people you serviced you were just another body, just another sex toy to be hired out and paid, you gave people a show, serviced them and then they left. None of them were this gentle, this wrapped up in your own contentment.

“How are you feeling?”

Alexia’s words were soft, a lot softer in contrast to the words that she’d been moaning at you a few minutes ago.

“Sore, but good, how about you?”

Your voice was just as hoarse as Alexia’s now, lost from your moans and screams.

“Not too sore?”

There was the underlying theme of worry in Alexia’s voice, something you were so unused to.

“No, I’ll be okay.”

Alexia nodded, leaning down again to press another kiss to your forehead.

“I should probably leave, I don’t want to be a bother.”

It was the truth, you didn’t want to distract Alexia from her victory or make her feel like she had to care for you. Just as you were about to remove yourself from her arms she stopped you, pulling you back down to her chest tightly.

“Nonsense, unless you want to leave you are very welcome, I want to make sure that you are okay, that was a little rough and it would be understandable if you were feeling a little bit spacey.”

You bit you lip, this was so irregular, you were a stripper, a sex worker, you weren’t supposed to have this kind of niceness, weren’t supposed to be granted these kinds of kindness.

“It’s my job, I feel fine, I can go for round two if you want.”

There was a little bit too much bite to your tone, enough for Alexia to tighten her grip on you.

“I know I don’t know you, but regardless of whether or not this is your job it’s okay for you to feel sore or like you want to take a breather, I’d never make you do anything you didn’t want to.”

Alexia was being so tender underneath the dimly lit lamplight.

“I feel good, I promise, I don’t think I’ve ever cum harder in my life, and I’d love to do it again, in the shower?”

Alexia smirked at you, chuckling at your admission.

“That is definitely something I won’t object to, but first, let’s just take a breather, I know you say you're fine but just let your elder have a moment to breathe.”

Conversation between you and Alexia flowed so freely, like you’d known each other for years, like you weren’t two bedmates that would most likely never see each other again after tonight.

“Okay grandma, take your time, I’ll just go get myself off with the shower head.”

You jumped off of the bed, running towards the ensuite and not missing the sound of Alexia’s feet pattering after you, chasing you into the bathroom, raring to go again, something that you were less than objectionable to.

[qqueenofhades]

For creative writing purposes, can you go into what a typical day is for a professor? Like what their teaching schedule looks like, when most fit in their research time, etc?

Ahaha, well. I don't want to just say "you can completely make it up," but also.... you can pretty much just make it up, and what is the case for one professor is definitely not going to be true for another. I have known people who will send emails at 1am and/or 4am, and actually finding and fitting in research time for most academics is also "lololololol what." So I can give you a roster of typical daily academic tasks and categories, and then let you know if that if you want to throw them up in the air and scatter them around in literally whatever-the-fuck order, there is probably a beleaguered academic who has done that, but with an even worse sleep schedule. So:

Most permanent faculty at a university are hired as assistant (tenure-track) professors. Once they pass the tenure-committee review (usually about 5 years into the job) they are appointed as associate (tenured) professors. Full professors are considerably senior and/or have been in the field for a long time and have a distinguished service record, excluding various wunderkinds who get it early (but are not common).

If the faculty is just teaching one class a semester or has an irregular appointment, i.e. they step in to teach when the university needs them, they are adjunct professors. You can gain a lot of cred and/or commiserating groaning in your AO3 comments by complaining about how little money the adjunct faculty makes, how erratic their schedule is, and how there is generally little-to-no actual career advancement possible in that position, unless they manage to reapply to a permanent post.

There are also a lot of Visiting Assistant Professors (and similar title), for 2- or 3-year/non-permanent appointments. Many institutions now also offer 1-year VAPs with only a possibility of renewal for 1 additional year or not at all. Those institutions should go straight to hell.

Most professors have 3/3 teaching loads, i.e. they'll teach 3 classes per semester (assuming winter/spring semester). Others have 2/2/2 loads for trimesters (also known as quarters). It can be more, i.e. 4/4, but that's for sucky entry-level teaching-only positions and someone in that role would be unlikely to have any research or service (i.e. institutional committee or internal college) commitments. They would probably also mostly be teaching introductory or freshman-year general survey courses. It depends on how much you want to torture your fictional academic.

Free food? Yes. You will see a healthy amount of the department there, whether faculty or student.

Please remember to have your fictional academic receive approximately 50 student emails a day wherein they ask something that is clearly answered in the syllabus or on the course website, and to see how polite they can possibly be in telling said student this.

Most grading is now done online, so the red pen is only metaphorical, but you can leave SO many Pointed Comments on Canvas Speed Grader. But if you want to torture Dr. Blorbo, you can have the e-grading system suddenly stop working, so they have to grade three classes' worth of introductory freshman history essays by hand. Not based on real events.

Likewise, there will be endless bullshit with the dean's office and/or central university administration, wherein there will be so many Urgent Budget Updates and Breaking News From The Chancellor and We Regret To Inform You We Cannot Hire Someone For That Position.

Related to the budget woes: they will ask you to do things like "make sure you print on both sides of the paper!" or otherwise "economize." Contemplating murder is acceptable and encouraged.

The administrative assistant in each department holds the entire department together. They will be extremely indispensable. Your fictional academic, if they know what's good for them, will befriend that person and/or grovel at their feet. Said person is also usually responsible for scheduling classrooms, which can cause all kinds of juicy drama in the academic fandom if there is One Particular Classroom that everyone hates and lo and behold, Dr. Blorbo is stuck there yet again. They will then probably also fire off multiple passive-aggressive emails attempting to correct the problem. The administrative assistant can grant and/or ignore these requests at their discretion, depending on how much beef they have with Dr. Blorbo and/or how motivated they are to solve their problems.

Department meetings! Who asked for them? Nobody! Who has to attend them? Everybody! They go on for two hours every other week (possibly more depending on how meeting-happy your department chair is) and you will wish for death!

Likewise, the department staff sending out passive-aggressive emails about how they really NEED one more volunteer for (insert university event here). Dr. Blorbo, if they are smart, will delete these emails and pretend they never saw them, but sometimes it may be unavoidable. Bitching and moaning will follow.

For research: it really depends on what academic field Dr. Blorbo is in, since the hard sciences, etc. look quite different and I, as a humanities person, can't speak to that. Most academics aim to fairly regularly publish a piece in a peer-reviewed journal; you can check Dr. Blorbo's field to see what journals they might be trying to submit a journal article (usually max. 8000 words, sometimes more) to.

This will go through a process called Peer Review, wherein two anonymous academics review your work (also anonymized to them) to make sure that you are not talking out of your ass. It is a running joke that Reviewer 2 will always, ALWAYS be more grumpy and critical and otherwise annoying. Invoking the specter of Dr. Blorbo receiving a peer review evaluation for their article will send a shiver down every academic's spine.

If Dr. Blorbo has recently finished their PhD, they may be working on converting their PhD thesis into an academic monograph. The most horrible part of this process, hands down, is reviewing proofs to make an index. Don't ask me how I know this.

However, academic monographs take a lot of time and work and most academics are mostly focused on publishing journal articles, book chapters (in collected volumes) or editing/working in collaboration with other projects.

Likewise: Dr. Blorbo will have to write book reviews. This is accomplished by the very scientific method of subscribing to various industry publications and/or email lists that will sometimes send out lists of books that need to be reviewed and solicit people to sign up. You will then receive a hard copy of the book (usually) and have 3 months or so to read it and write a review. The first 2 months of this, give or take, will consist of the book sitting untouched on the academic's desk as they remind themselves that they still have plenty of time to do it.

There can, however, be INCREDIBLE beef in book reviews, and while the standards of professional courtesy dictate that you don't go great-guns-flaming calling someone else in your field a moron (in more technical language), sometimes it is unavoidable.

Do they get paid for any of this extra intellectual work? Lol. No. No they do not. They don't get paid enough for their actual job.

Dr. Blorbo will inevitably hear some Hot Gossip about what nonsense has recently happened at which field-specific conference (where academics go to present research papers and network with other academics and make regrettable decisions at the open bar). They will then rush to secretly text all their other academic friends with OOH JUICY ACADEMIC DRAMA. Their friends will do the same whenever the opportunity arises to reciprocate.

Removing the coffee machine from the break room/faculty kitchen is grounds for mutiny.

Anyway. I am sure there are many, MANY more, but if you want an authentic slice of long-suffering academic life for Dr. Blorbo, this is all a good place to start.

[synthshenanigans]

woah hey a year has been passed wowie :0

First two weren't posted here cos they were too long ago & not CJish related but love the way he took up 70% of the year lol

[ Full images + templates below :} ]

[TW for Bright Colors, maybe blood & very very vague themes of depression/suicide for like 2 drawings I believe]

Long text about the arts if anyones actually curious!!

January: An old OC I completely forgot about until making this. He's based on old radio like things :}

February: Played Person 5 Royal last year & drew Joker cos idk he's neat. Fun fact, the same day I fully finished the game was the day Storm & a Spring came out. Also while grinding in the game, I had his Bidding & VoaC covers on repeat. Which was a bit annoying to do since they weren't on Spotify yet & YT on mobile didn't have looping then.

March: The Hawaii Part ii album cover :} I did post that eventually but that's the time I actually made it. Had listened to TME a couple of months before then which got me into the album, so months later I drew it cos why not? [Also the month Vol.1 fully released on everything. What's funny is my gallery for that day was a handful of memes I saved at 4am before I fell asleep. And then the next image saved is when I woke up which was a screenshot of the whiteboard in TfaR lol]

April: First main Jash art !!! And its not even with any of the songs from Vol. 1 lol. I had his Moss cover on repeat again & now that all of Vol. 1 was out, I drew Heart in some moss. Or really in the image from the video.

May: Lil animation I made of Heart with the song Don't Hit the Lights! Link to my post & the song can be found here :}. Still really like the song & even the drawings. Might remake em eventually idk

June: Sky/socialc1imb's Clue AU! I like murder mysteries & this one was real interesting so I drew it a lot lol. Might remake that one or one of the others I made at somepoint? It'll be a bit later if I do but ye

July: A redraw of a HMS piece I originally made back in May, based on the Three Wise Monkeys thing. I like the idea of it so I keep wanting to remake it.

August: I honestly can't remember if I posted that art or not. Actually yea I don't think I ever did PFFT. It's one of the few drawings I did of myself this year & its from CJs Not Perfect cover [as you can tell by the lyrics on it]. Also one of the very very few vent-ish arts I made. I like the background more than anything but its still neat ig?

September: Art for one of the best songs ever. I love Fine, I'm Fine its so good & I listened to it for like 70% of the 20+ hours it took me to make the drawing. Still proud of it so there's the sketch I drew on paper, the one on my tablet & then the final versions.

October: There was a lot from this month due to Jashtober. I still like this one lot & it wasn't insanely rushed so I picked this one to show lol.

November: I have no idea why I made a fun lil soul. I was having an identity crisis over my art style & ig decided to draw the guy who is a walking identity crisis/j

December: Same as September. One of my favorite songs ever was covered & released, so I made a drawing like everyone else lol.

[kalliopeia]

Daisuke Takahashi - Cutting Edge 2005

Congratulations to Kana and Daisuke for an amazing performance at Worlds! I'm so glad they finally managed to skate a program that they're happy with, in front of the home crowd.

When I first heard that Phantom of the Opera would be Kanadai's FD this season, I was skeptical. But it made for an amazing story. I still remember 2007 Worlds so vividly -- I tuned in to the live audio stream of British Eurosport at 4am (there was no video stream back then!) and cried with happiness when Daisuke won the silver medal. I never imagined that another lifetime later, he'd be skating to Phantom at Worlds again, this time as an ice dancer.

The legacy that Daisuke has left on the sport is undeniable. Mark Hanretty said during the ISU broadcast that so many of the 180 competitors at Worlds cited Daisuke as an inspiration. It's pretty incredible that even after becoming a two-time World Champion, Shoma stated that he still wants to be able to give a performance like Daisuke.

The first interview I ever read from Daisuke was from Cutting Edge 2005, where he said that he hopes that his skating will remain in people's hearts in the future. It's so heartwarming to know that has come true.

I translated this interview and posted it on FSUniverse in 2006. The site I used to host the original translation is gone now, but sometimes I still see parts of the interview quoted in various places. Here's the full interview and scans of from the original book.

Daisuke Takahashi Surging Brilliance and Passion (Translated from Cutting Edge 2005)

At the age of 16, he obtained the honor of becoming Japan's first men's Junior World Champion. The boy who was expected to become the ace of the next generation turns 20 this season. He has fluid skating, splendid footwork, and a natural spark that captures the hearts of spectators. If he conquers his competitive weakness, he has the ability to become the World Champion. Not a former Junior World Champion, but a true World Champion someday. A firm goal can be seen before his passionate gaze.

Those effortless jumps in exhibitions, those intense steps. If only he showed that energy in shows in competition... Daisuke Takahashi, who always makes people nervous, was even more lackluster than usual in the first half of the 2004-2005 season. In the Grand Prix Series' Trophee Eric Bompard, he was in third place after the short program, but fell four times in the free and ended up eleventh. At the important Japanese Nationals, he finished a nightmarish sixth. What happened to him in the critical pre-Olympics season?

Where did the passion for skating go?

"Last year... I hated skating. I didn't want to do it. I had an injury, but it wasn't very serious, so that wasn't the reason. Why... I don't know, but I hated being on the ice. In practice, I'd think, 'I've already skated for 30 minutes,' but not even 10 minutes had passed... When I skated, time somehow felt longer. My feelings weren't into it at all.

When I got injured in September and took a break for a while, I thought, I've done nothing but skating up until now. All through high school, I had gone from school to the rink. I'd go to school and practice in Okayama, and then go to Osaka on the weekends to practice. ...With that kind of lifestyle, I never had any fun. I didn't know how to have fun.

Then in April I started college and moved to Osaka. My environment changed, and I became more independent. When you can take care of your everyday life and school matters on your own, your perspective changes, right? So then I thought... 'Is it okay for me to only focus on skating?' But even though I thought I'd do other things, in the end I didn't do anything. I still felt that I had to skate. But when I went to the rink, I didn't want to skate at all. I neither skated well, nor had any fun doing other things. If I couldn't participate in the special training camp... I definitely would've quit skating. The reason I didn't quit was because I was at the level where I couldn't quit by my own will. That's all. But anyway, my feelings of hatred towards skating were really strong last year..."

Due to his major environment change, he began to question his life of solely skating. In the 2004-2005 season, Daisuke Takahashi wholly felt the difficulty of the sport of figure skating, where mental doubts show up in one's skating itself. But he did not end his career like this, for he is the man who went as far as becoming the Junior World Champion.

"But those feelings finally subsided when I finished sixth at Nationals in December. I thought, ah, the season is over now. Strangely, when I thought that, the turmoil disappeared. Then after Nationals was the Medalists on Ice show. I was called to participate even though I was sixth, and at first I didn't want to go. 'I'm not a medalist, so I won't go!' I said. But my coach Nagamitsu-sensei told me, 'Go anyway,' so I went reluctantly. But it turned out to be really fun! I skated to Secret Garden's 'Nocturne,' a song I chose myself. The program was a very simple one that I also choreographed myself. Since the shows were right after Nationals, I was tired after the first of the three. But as I skated, they became more and more fun. I skated happily for an audience with a program I chose and created myself! From then on, I was gradually able to think once again that skating really is fun."

Along with his recovered feelings, his skating visibly regained its spark. In Medalists on Ice, he showed unbelievable jumps and skating that made spectators think, "This is the sixth place finisher?" At the beginning of the new year, he placed first at the Universiade, and finished on an international podium again with a third place at the Four Continents Championships. Unable to maintain his good results, he finished fifteenth at the World Championships, but even so, his revitalized expression after the season's end was like a different person's.

"So last season was the season where I grew to hate skating once, but then became able to love it again. Because that happened last year, my feelings this year are different. Of course, practices are still tiresome, but I'll never slog through them reluctantly like last year. I practice decisively now with refreshed feelings. So every day, when I'm done practicing, I feel good. I don't know how that'll turn out in competition, though. (laughs)

But the biggest difference from last year is that I don't just 'wish' in competitions now. My thoughts last year like, 'I wonder if I can land this jump, it'll be nice if I can,' were merely 'wishes.' But this year, I don't wish; I have strong feelings of, 'I'll land it' or 'I won't fail.' I've practiced to have that kind of confidence this year!"

Those new feelings have already appeared on the ice. At the Japan International Challenge in October, he defeated foreign skaters and placed second! The voices of, "I want to see Daisuke in Torino!" continue to build.

Daisuke Takahashi's Craftsmanship

He captivates spectators with his beautiful skating, and excites them with his triple axels and quadruple jumps. When he sends his strong gaze to the audience, his steps have even more force. When he's on, Daisuke Takahashi is almost unrivaled. Many fans had been waiting anxiously for him, thinking, "I wanted to see this kind of male skater!" Just how was this kind of skater born?

"When I was little... I was weak, and I hated going to school. (laughs) My parents were worried about me, so they made me try many different sports. I have three older brothers, and all of them did Shaolin Kung Fu. But Shaolin is painful, isn't it? I hate pain. It's scary! At first I thought about doing hockey, which is also skating, but I couldn't do it because I was scared of getting hit in the chin. I really am a coward. (laughs)

Other than martial arts and hockey though, I originally thought gymnastics might be good. But the gymnastics place was far away in inner Okayama, so it would've been difficult for my mother to drop me off and pick me up there. So I tried skating thanks to a friend's suggestion, and it was really fun!

What about skating was fun... I can't remember anymore. I don't remember what about it was fun at all, but anyway, it was fun. I didn't take skating lessons with the intention of becoming a serious athlete, or because I admired anyone. I just started it normally, without thinking about anything. When I was little, I used to joke around saying, 'I'm going to skate in the Olympics!' but it really was just a joke. I skated really contentedly just thinking of it as a hobby.

But... when I won Junior Worlds in my first year of high school, I thought, 'I have to do this as a serious athlete' for the first time. That I can't just do this as a hobby. I felt that I had to become a responsible athlete. To think that... shouldn't have been so difficult. But after Junior Worlds, I was completely awful in seniors, right? I might've tried too hard to become serious after skating as a hobby for so long... No, I didn't try hard enough to be able say that (laughs), but these past few years, I tried too hard with only my feelings. With those feelings accumulating for so long... last year, I just thought, 'I don't want to skate anymore.'

But even though I say that, it's not that grandiose of a story! When I talk about it like this, it sounds exaggerated. (laughs)"

Skating fixations, style fixations

The boy who attracted great expectations due to his talent and potential forgot his feelings of "Skating is fun" and "I love skating" somewhere down the line. But now that he has remembered that important something, he is able to laugh away all the hardships he has had. One can also see his relaxed attitude towards skating.

"Truthfully, there aren't really any skaters that I aim to be like. Of course, I like certain parts about skaters; for example, I want Nobunari-kun's flexibility. But this year I've been working on my flexibility, so I've become a little more flexible! Also, I want Jeffrey Buttle's transitions. His transitions between elements and connection to the music are really amazing. There are various skaters whom I want to steal things from like that, but none of whom I think, 'Everything about him is great!' Because Takahashi's ideals are high. (laughs)

But there's the actor Joe Odagiri, right? I love him! I love his atmosphere. He has this mysterious air about him that other people don't have, right?

I admire that mysterious charm, so although I'm not trying to imitate Odagiri-san, I'd like to show that kind of charm that attracts both men and women in my skating. Do I think I'm handsome? I've never been conscious about that kind of thing! No, I don't, I don't. (laughs) I'm trying to become handsome, though! Because out of the four brothers in my family, I'm the plainest. I don't look like my three older brothers at all. Ah, I think the second eldest has gotten a little chubby lately, and has become a little dirty looking?

My brothers never talk about skating. Their attitude is, 'Why don't you just do what you want?' Though they do cooperate with me... Generally, my brothers don't watch my skating. (laughs) But it's easier that way. Isn't it easier to go home and not talk about skating? We talk about completely unrelated things, like they ask me, 'Have you gotten any presents from girls?'

Since I have those brothers, I'm not popular at all. (laughs) I'm bad with girls. Actually, I think girls are scary. (laughs) My skating friends are fine, but... I'm bad with girls I like. I can't talk to them at all. But I look okay with long hair, right? Didn't I look better when I had long hair? My choreographer in America, Nikolai, cut my current hair! Though, I had planned for a better hairstyle...

There's that much of a difference between my normal self and my skating self?

No, there's no difference. I'm always like this. But when I'm on the ice... I like people watching me. I want everyone to watch me. Starting from practice, I want people to watch me, not other skaters. I might really want to stand out! So when I come to Nobeyama, I skate while conscious of people around me. Anyway, I want to become really famous!

I want to become a skater that everyone in Japan knows. So I think of Miki Ando as my rival. (laughs) Though we haven't really become rivals at all. Huh, this interview is going to become a book? The picture you just took will be the cover? Seriously? I'll buy it when it comes out! You'll send me one? Yay!"

To Torino, with Nikolai Morozov's programs!

He says there's no difference between his off-ice and on-ice persona. But when this friendly young man stands on the ice, he turns into the ultimate entertainer who draws all eyes to him. Mysteriously, he shows us a completely different Daisuke Takahashi. But that's probably the Daisuke Takahashi who mischievously thinks, "I want to stand out, I want to attract people's attention." This year, a new choreographer who helps to bring out his entertainer quality even more joined Takahashi's team.

"My choreographer this year is Nikolai Morozov. At first, I thought about asking Lori Nichol. But when Nagamitsu-sensei suggested, 'How about Morozov?' I thought, 'Ah, that might be good...' Right when I heard Morozov's name, I thought, 'That might be good.' Just based on my feelings, I thought Nikolai might be better than Lori. I'd never had choreography done by either of them before. When I was with Tatiana [Tarasova] last year and the year before, Nikolai had already split from her. So that's how I went to Morovoz's place in America for the first time this year... There was no need to give him my opinions at all. I'm plenty satisfied with what he created! Since Nikolai's ideas just came flowing out one after the other, rather than telling him, 'I want to do this,' at first I had trouble trying to see how well I could do what he asked of me.

After Nikolai made my programs in America, he also looked after my practices... Nikolai used to be an ice dancer, so there are a lot of dancers around him like Ukraine's Grushina/Goncharov and Russia's Kulikova/Markov... Besides getting choreography, I learned a lot of things by watching Nikolai's practices with them. In Japan, the rink I used to skate at closed down, and the rink I skate at now is hard to commute to. But I was able to practice in a good environment this year thanks to my connection to Nikolai. Since I was able to practice well in the off-season, I don't want to lose to Nikolai's choreography! My free program this year is Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto, so I don't want to lose to Rachmaninov's music either! I want to show my own interpretation of it."

The Morozov programs he chose by intuition fit him perfectly. They are dramatic and sensational. In 2005-2006, the Olympic season arrives, as if it had been waiting for his mental growth and new choreographer. If he makes it, it will be his first Olympics. What kind of skating does he intend to show us?

"I haven't had many performances that I've truly been satisfied with. The only ones I can say were really good are this year's free program from the Universiade and the short program from the World Championships in Germany. And, well, the performances that I won Junior Worlds with. That's about it. Those are the only ones I think were 'complete' performance-wise, regardless of the jumps.

In competitions, I'm always overwhelmed. When I skate, I don't think about anything. When I receive applause during the steps I'm happy that the audience is cheering me on, but I can only feel like that for a split second during the performance. This is different in shows and exhibitions. Because I can be at ease with feelings like, 'It'd be nice if both the audience and I have fun.' That's why Dreams on Ice wasn't bad.

But this year, I want to have more satisfying performances in competition! My goal is to go to the Olympics, and I'm aiming for... the podium! I want to have a goal that's at least that high. (laughs) Everyone is serious this year aiming for the Olympics, which only one person can go to. Of course, I'm aware of the others. Even if we practice together, I don't dislike anyone. So if someone else goes instead of me, I want to cheer him on. I want to fight everyone without any bad feelings. But of course, other people have nothing to do with my own skating. So even above that, I want to have my own goals. I'll continue working on my flexibility, becoming more flexible little by little over the next four years, towards my final goal of Vancouver. I'm thinking of Torino as a stepping stone... but without abandoning my feelings of wanting to medal. If I'm lucky, that is. (laughs)

In Vancouver... it'd be nice if I could become the Olympic Champion. I want not only the people who watch at that time, but also young skaters way in the future, when I become an old man, to see my skating. My goal is to become good enough so that people will watch videos of me and say, 'Daisuke Takahashi was really good.' So that my skating will remain in the hearts of people who watched the Olympics. So that it will resonate in their hearts, no matter how many years pass. In order to make my skating have that kind of worth... Takahashi skates today!"

This was the interview he gave during the training camp. After we finished talking, he headed straight to the rink. His extremely serious appearance while skating, and his bright appearance while joking with friends... Hiding his tough heart with a smile, to Torino, to Vancouver. His journey continues. And someday, everyone in the world, not just Japan, will surely know of Daisuke Takahashi.

[case-study-of-parenting]

A long post about baby's sleeping habits

For starters, Almond was a "good sleeper" from the very beginning. She spent her first week in NICU and "learned" there to sleep in her own bed and to get fed at certain hours. So when she got home she slept through the nights with 2 feeds, then 1 and eventually dropped the last feeding independently around 6 months.

Compared to that, Cinnamon has been a terrible sleeper. Innthe very beginning she had a bit trouble with breastfeeding so she used to feed every 2 hours even at night. And I was worried that Almond would wake up for her crying (as if she hasn't slept through a smoke alarm before...) so I just gave her milk every time she would cry even a bit rather than trying to sooth her otherwise. And that's how you get a baby who only calms for breast and still wakes up to feed at least 3 times a night at 7 months. To make all this even slightly more tolerable, we've been co-sleeping, so I don't have to get up every time.

Falling asleep isn't problem. Cinnamon usually falls asleep independently in her own bed and only after one of the feeds I let her stay next to me. But now I'm working on keeping her in her own bed all night.

During days Cinnamon usually takes one longer (1,5 hours) nap and then 2 shorter (45mins) ones. I hope we're slowly moving towards 2 longer naps. One day she did sleep almost 3 hours and that was when she was sleeping in our bed. So I decided I'd try to create more similar sleeping conditions to her own bed. Our bed is much softer that her firm mattress so I added one softer blanket under her sheets. Then I took my own used bedding sheet and threaded it between her crib's edge so she has a soft wall that smells like me.

Another thing affecting her night feeds are obviously day time feedings. We have slowly been able to increase the amount of solids but I only recently realized that her feeding so much at night probably prevents her from being hungry enough during days so it's a vicious cycle. So cutting back night feeds is important for that, too.

Anyway, Last night I applied all those changes to her bed and she slept in there all night. She fell asleep feeding around 8:15 pm. She woke up once crying sometime before 10pm and i soothed her without milk. She was a bit restless after that but was able to soothe herself. Then I fed her once around 11pm before going to sleep myself. And she then slept until 4am without waking up once! And with her history that is a long stretch! She was again a bit restless so I decided to feed her around 5am and then she slept until alarm at 7:15. So I'd call that a successful first nigh with these adjustments.

Hopefully she'll eat better today bc she only had 2 night feeds and slowly we can work to dropping those, too. I am trying to do as much as I can without actually sleep training but if it doesn't work then we'll probably do a few nights where husband takes over to drop the night feeds. But i'm fine with 1-2 feeds for now.

Congratulations to everyone who read the full post 😄 I will update after more night have passed.

[nar-nia]

hi!

wow.

omg, its been so long since i spoke to you but a lot of happened in my life kinda (as well as yours from what i saw)

first of all, CONGRATULATIONS on finishing uni!!!!!!! im proud and happy for u!!! u worked hard and it paid off!! and wow, bakery?? that sounds so amazing!!!! like straight up bakery/coffee shops au!!! must be super fun and probably always smells rly good there!! i hope ure having tons of fun!!! and that ure eating lots of cake duh

for me, idk if u remember but i passed that oral exam!!! i did it in the beginning of september!! and i felt relieved and euphoric about it! and now the new semester (so my second year ) starts soon and…… i feel so anxious about going back, talking to people, all the stress and constant anxiety, and the fact that im still questioning whether this was the right thing to study and the lingering feeling that all my friends have it figured  out already with the life and im kinda stuck. like when its right u know? but idk ??

but on a more positive note? my summer was rly great overall so i hope urs was too!!!! im no longer a teenager tho 20 hits hard - especially after olivia rodrigos new album lmaoo

hee has purple hair now and he looks soooooo good!! ALSO  i read jakes and jays fics u posted and they were so nice, omg like???  :((( like made me realize how much i missed ur blog and u!!!!!!!!!!!

i love you, wishing u all the best always!!!!!!!!!!

                            -beloved anon wow it feels good to write it again!! <333

OMG HELLOOOO 🥺🥺🥺 it's been so long, i missed you so much. how are youu <333

please i'm so happy about finally finishing uni, it felt so long and annoying in the end. but now i already kinda miss it 😭

working in the bakery is.. interesting. it's definitely what i want to do in life, the other day i spent the whole workday just making cakes without anyone bothering me and i loved it so so much, but it's also hard and really stressful (which is why i am replying so late and i'm really sorry, first i got sick and then i got hit with a workload again 🥲). i have to do work that's supposed to be for like 4 other people and it's something 😶 let's manifest that they will find more workers soon because this is way too stressful for me (and my coworkers, i haven't seen them smiling in the past two weeks anymore, it's a bit scary). but enough complaining 🫡 the work itself is fun and the food is so good 🫠🫠 apart from onion cake/pie, i have to do it all myself and i swear i haven't stopped smelling like onions those past few weeks 💀

okay but now to you! CONGRATULATIONS ON PASSING YOUR EXAM 🥳🥳🥳 you did so well and i hope you're really proud of yourself 🥺🩷 and best of luck for your second year, i'm sure you will do as amazing as before 🩷

i'm sorry that you feel so nervous about it though. i have to be back in school to become a baker too now and i was so nervous on my first day, i got sick like right after 💀 and my class really is something (not necessarily positive but there are really nice people too). buuut i hope that your classmates are the nicest people you have ever met and that you will have lots of fun this year, you deserve it. and of course lots of amazing grades in your exams 🩷 i think if this bakery thing has thought me one thing is that it's okay to not know what you want yet. i think i have found my place now (although not necessarily in this bakery) but it took me a while to figure it out too. and in our bakery we have two people who tried lots of different stuff too before they settled on training there. so please try not to worry too much for now, i'm sure it will all work out well for you 🥺🩷

but i'm so glad your summer was nice <33 mine was full of job applications and moving but i still enjoyed it a lot (oh i miss the time where i could stay up all night and sleep in and not start work at 4am 💀) and happy belated birthday, omg <33 welcome to your twenties, it's a wild ride 😍

i missed you so so much too, i'm glad you liked my stories but even happier you had time to check in 🩷 but yes, hee 🫠🫠 wow. i love him (although he's not the only one anymore, can you believe?? jay has been bias wrecking me so hard i am so close to making him my second bias. that guy has me BLUSHING)

i hope you are doing well despite it all and will continue to do well 🩷 you deserve the best and you should get it. i love youuu 🩷🩷🩷

[thetoxicgamer]

Grab this 9 out of 10 RPG game for free while you wait for Starfield

Since Wasteland 3 is a free RPG game right now and PCGamesN has previously given inXile's post-apocalyptic RPG a very high score, it's the ideal way to pass the time till Starfield's upcoming release date this year. Wasteland 3 is the turn-based game for you if you want something absolutely spectacular with rich characters and lore. We gave the game a score of 9/10 in our Wasteland 3 review, saying that it has “Lurid characters, a deep RPG system, and captivating combat set in an unhinged apocalypse,” and that “inXile Entertainment’s latest shouldn’t be missed.” So if you want something filled with depth ahead of Bethesda’s Starfield, you can snag Wasteland 3 for free via Robot Cache right now. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3r8JH4S38Rs With plenty of Wasteland 3 builds to choose from in inXile’s squad and turn-based post-apocalypse game, you’ll wind up having a truly in-depth experience that tests your mettle and skill. There are even two expansions for the game, so when the credits roll you’ll have even more to play if you want. If you want to know what inXile is working on next, this year’s Summer Game Fest saw the studio announce Clockwork Revolution, a BioShock Infinite-looking RPG that sees you altering historical events in the past, and coming back to the present to see how it has changed the steampunk world. All of the Wasteland games are also available as a part of PC Game Pass at the moment – with it costing just $1 for new subscribers to try out too – so if you find the Robot Cache Wasteland 3 code to your tastes, you can actually try out the whole series at a real cheap price. You’ve got until Thursday, July 20 at 10am PT, 1pm ET, 6pm BST and 4am AEDT on Friday, July 21 to claim Wasteland 3, so act fast. If you’re curious about Wasteland 3 while you’re waiting for it to download, we can give you a headstart with our Wasteland 3 companions breakdown, while our look at the best free games on PC should give you even more options. Still looking for more? While a good Starfield wiki can be a handy source of information, our new Starfield Database goes further, offering you daily news, searchable databanks, and even interactive tools. Read the full article

[bylightofdawn]

So my mother stopped by and kidnapped me to 'return' a few things which turned into a multi-hour, multi-store trawl where yes, she did return a couple of items and then bought MORE shit. I mean, the walmart trip was fine, she needed dog food and then she needed new sheets for the new bed she hasn't even bought yet. And then we found out Tuesday Morning is closing down which is kinda lowkey sad because that was a part of my childhood. My grandma loved that place, so does my mom, so we went there and got more shit and then it was off to Kohls. Theoretically to pay off her Kohls card but more shopping happened. She and her husband got their tax returns. How the fuck do they get like 5K between the two of them on retirement/social security and I as a single person working 40 hours a week get like 500 bucks?

She made the fatal mistake of asking me to start ordering her some vans tennis shoes which they didn't have in her size as Kohl's that she wanted and then stopped halfway through because she has ADD so I ended up purchasing them as a mother's day gift which she doesn't know about. It won't get there in time but she legit stonewalled me when I asked her what she wanted for mother's day.

All this to say I didn't get home till after 8 and I've been trying to edit but I've only managed the first pass through. This chapter is definitely NOT getting posted today. Which, that's fine. I also ducked out and bought a couple of pork bahn mi for dinner and lunch tomorrow while she was at Kohls.

I really want to finish editing this chapter but NGL I am in a lot of pain and am struggling to keep my eyes open at this point. Fuck waking up at 8am. I did it for years but hell it's so hard to go back to waking up early. And 8 is the max, I don't know how people can wake up at 6am. My insane brother wakes up at like 4am or 5am. I don't know how he does it. Of course, he's a nutter who is working full time doing 12 hour days at the hospital, has a wife and kids AND is putting himself through his masters program so that crazy fuck is operating on 4 hours of sleep a night for the past four years. I don't know how he does it. It exhausts me just thinking about his lifestyle.

I really want to finish editing this chapter but NGL I am in a lot of pain and am struggling to keep my eyes open at this point. Fuck waking up at 8am. I did it for years but hell it's so hard to go back to waking up early. And 8am is the max for me, I don't know how people can wake up at 6am.

Yeah I think I'm just going to admit defeat and throw in the towel tonight, I'm getting nothing meaningful done here. Depending on what time I wake up tomorrow I might do a second run through before work or over lunch. Or if not, I'll just do it on Sunday. It's not like I have this firm promise of which day I will post stuff. And I hate to say it, but like other people, the lack of people really interacting with my work is a tiny bit demoralizing. Sure, I'll get some kudos but no one really seems to be commenting so it definitely feels a bit like I'm just putting my stuff out into the void.

Which, a big part of me feels like you should write fanfiction expecting praise or comments. But another part does appreciate, I guess, the acknowledgment or validation I'm not just writing for myself, if that makes sense? I dunno, it's a weird thing to try and put into words.

[technologyvoid]

(You can choose how to answer this- but since you asked….)

Haven!!!!!!!

(The only one with a backstory. Idk how old this is, but oh well!)

Haven ~ They / She

Nickname(s) ~ Embodiment of Gayness, Interceptor, Whore, Sleepy

Nonbinary / gay

Incredibly sweet! (Also a spawn of satan)

Much PTSD

Could burn your kitchen down, just by thinking about cooking.

Hyper, could talk for hours about interests.

Can and will kill you

Can possess people

Asleep by 4AM, or pulls an all-nighter

Will pass out randomly, scares the shit out of everyone

Coffee = Water

Is obsessed with mushrooms, but would rather die than eat one

Loves flowers

Will spend hours watching the stars

Prefers cats over dogs, but loves both

Sensitive to temperatures, can’t do really cold/hot well

Has a collection of rocks, they all have names

Literal perfect handwriting

Says the most randomest things

100% shit memory

Can’t do scary movies, will be in tears

Adopted an abandoned cat, begged Cas to let them keep it

Has committed murder, accidently

Has a wall dedicated to frogs (It expands slowly)

Backstory ~ (Pre-Y’know-)

::

Their mother didn’t fully want to have them. But- for pure love of her husband she chose not to have an abortion, despite never wanting a child to begin with. Although everything was fine at first, when Haven was 3 her father passed due to an illness, and things turned for the worst.

Haven’s mother blamed them for his passing, and having now fully regretted having a child- she began to abuse and take it out on Haven.

Neighbors began to show concerns for Haven(now 7) who would always seem to have new bruises and scars, every time they left home. Those concerns eventually lead to police being called in, however her mother managed to lie her way out of the situation, she because of this sudden call became even worse towards Haven.

(Haven who is now 8) out of nowhere makes a call to the police, with no explanation to if anything’s wrong- or if she’s safe. It was merely a call where she said their name, address, sat in silence- and hung up. Due to concerns, the police arrived at Havens, although it was not what they had believed they’d find.

Havens mother, had committed suicide- and Haven had found her hanging. They had called the police because they were confused why for 3 days- their mother had not moved.

Immediate family was called in, although refused to take Haven in- so instead one of the neighbors stepped in to take care of them instead.

Everything got better, and Haven was treated with much kindness and care- although, still traumatized. They made their first friend with Cas(tiel) at 10, (although they a bit more then friends now)

Everything was good! Up until the chaos, Haven at that point was 16.

::

DURING ~

::

Things went to shit so quickly, in what seemed like a blink of an eye chaos was nowhere to be seen, but then all of a sudden… houses are collapsing, people are screaming, fleeing, crying… in complete terror of what began. Haven tried to stick with her adoptive mother but, that didn’t last as in one shove, their mother got crushed beneath rubble, and them? Injured to say the least but alive, well barely alive- and stuck, unable to move. Despite what they believed to be the end as they lost consciousness, something- no someone- moved in the corner of their eye. But- who?

::

POST ~

::

To huge surprise, Haven awoke in somewhere barren, clearly another world that was not their own- but despite all they woke up. Someone saved them in the end, and they were here… alone.

~

A month passed and Haven had got adjusted to that of what the world around them was, the small creatures that were like pets- but also companions? The kind environment, the people all full of joy! Although, not all things were happy depending on what “region” you were in. Some were better than others, although not all things were perfect. For a month she was in despair of losing all her friends- all of them… up until she re-encountered Cas. That’s when things finally started turning for the better, and after a little bit- with the access to travel through other worlds by strange portals- it wasn’t just Cas they reunited with. But the remaining survivors of a pure disaster.

AAAAAAAA THEM I WANNA GIVE THEM A HUG THEY DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER

Me @ her mom:

[d3athm3tal]

Now that the 22nd has past, I will no longer post about you. I’m not sure if you’ll read these, I’m not sure if you can remember your old password yet or if you’ll remember my username to check up on this from time to time, because you know I write on here. I’ve always wrote on here. And you’d always read it. I’d stay up til 4am back in 2019 perfecting everything I was writing in the hopes you’d see how crazy I was about you, how carefully I picked each word to resonate how I felt about you. This was us. Our thing. You and I, beating around the bush, writing notes and leaving hints. You have been in every line I have ever wrote. But I can’t do it anymore honey. I always said we could do 1% and 99% but right now I don’t feel you can give me any so I know it’s time. I know it’s time to put 100% into something else, into healing and growing, picking out clothes for my own, figuring out my own style and my own routine. 9:15pm can’t be the time you finish work, it just needs to be 9:15pm. And 22:22pm can pass every day and I need to not think of falling deep into you as my feet sunk deep into the sand on that beach. I need to understand and comprehend how I could love someone so truly, openly, deeply, honestly and raw and still get hurt the way you hurt me. I need to get over feeling like I am not enough because you betrayed me, I need to not think of that every night before I try to sleep. So I can’t post about you anymore. Because I can’t keep going over the same things, it’s becoming insanity. So this is it. There are no more excuses. I’m not sure when I’ll collect my stuff, it feels like your stuff now anyway so I’m not too fussed about grabbing a bag of things that will have your scent wrapped in them. Keep them if you’d like, though I don’t think you’d like. The gaps are filled for you now. Everything’s in place. You have great friends and the gaps in your walls have been replaced with new memories and there isn’t a sign of me in that room. Our room. You would think I’d never been in it. It’s your room again, because once again I felt nervous sitting in it as if it were the beginning except it was more like the end. Full circle. I drove to cairn grove on Wednesday. Full year. Last year we were celebrating an anniversary, and picking out cutlery and this year I don’t know what colour your nails are or if you’re happy. I need to say goodbye and I can’t do it any other way than hope that there’s still that same part of you that always looked for me. And if there is then you’ll have found your way here and you’ll be reading this, then maybe things aren’t as bad I thought. But none the less it’s time to go. I’ll love you and leave you, I will only leave you once but I will love you every day. I’ll fill my gaps. I won’t post but I won’t stop writing, you’ll exist in my words. Goodbye bup, and for the last time I love you.

24.02.23.

[nocturnalghoul]

I wrote that first part, stared at it for 20 minutes, posted it and thought I was done but then my brain wouldn’t let me move on until I wrote a follow up that was a little less sad. Maybe more bittersweet to be honest. 

Important context: Dew and Frankenghoul are linked through Dew’s dream due to weird magic stuff from when Dew flipped elements. 

words: 1010

Blip… Blip… Blip

Mountain blinked wearily at the screen as his eyes attempted to adjust to the sudden light. It was nearly 4am why was Dew texting him, let alone three times in a row.

~Hey Mount, CF told me in my dream just now that they want to meet with you. They sounded pretty insistent. 

~Like asap, I guess I should have mentioned that.

~Oh, they also told me that you should know where and that it was a positive thing not bad so… anyways have fun with that I guess. Imma go back to bed.

Shit. This had to be about what he had found in the woods earlier that day. He quickly threw on some pants and started the trek down the path to the usual trade off point. 

Despite the reassurance passed on through Dew, Mountain still felt extremely nervous. The two of them never met up in person, they just traded gifts and little secret messages as they both went about their separate business in the woods. He had never even fully seen the ghoul, usually only catching rare glimpses of glowing magic in the distance. 

His mind raced as he walked but he kept reading that last text over and over again to reassure himself he wasn’t walking into anything bad. As he came around the corner towards the small clearing with the hollowed out tree they normally passed present through he stopped. Through the trees he could already see the brilliant purple glow of one horn and the thick glowing lines of green laid out in intricate patterns. Mountain had never managed to see so much raw elemental magic coming out of one ghoul at one time. 

“Please come closer Earth ghoul, I desire to see your full visage” a deep voice softly called out towards him. Mountain continued moving but was thrown off guard by the fact that the ghoul had a slight unplaceable accent despite never interacting with anybody else. 

They smiled kindly at him, trying their best to shrink back onto the log they were sitting on to give as non-intimidating a presence as possible. The sharpness of their features and the piercing glow of their eyes counteracted this effect slightly, but Mountain knew it wasn’t on purpose. 

“I am pleased you were willing to meet with me, little one” they began slowly. Mountain started to scrunch up his face in confusion at being called small before he realized that the other ghoul probably had several inches on him and was extremely buff. Little one he was indeed. 

“I hear from the hybrid, DewDrop, that they call you Mountain. A good name indeed. It is quite strong and sturdy.” they awkwardly continued. Mountain realized he still hadn’t seen them blink. “I have asked you here Mountain, to express both an apology and my deepest gratitude.” 

They shook the notebook Mountain had seen earlier softly before tossing it aside. “The things I am sure that you saw within this tome… they are not my proudest moments. I have undergone much change since these times, mostly I hope for the better, but still releasing the memories is difficult.”

Mountain stepped forward, instinctively reaching out to comfort the other ghoul before stopping himself a few inches shy. The other ghoul shook their head softly and he retracted his arm, scratching the back of his head absently before sitting down across from the ghoul. 

“You seem a kind ghoul Mountain, and I hope that what you found of my old ways have not soured your opinions of me, though from your brief note it does not appear that it has.” With that the ghoul pulled out the scrap of paper that mountain had left earlier. He could see faint purple symbols glowing on the opposite side of his message. 

“I have always been a firm believer of returning the way one treats you in kind. Hence why I decided to interact with you as briefly as I have after seeing your gifts you would leave for me. Never in the two centuries since I have been summoned have I ever felt a sense of belonging until now. Your kind trades have already meant a great deal to me, but referring to me as kin is the largest mark of prestige upon my character that I have ever received'' There were tears starting to form in the corners of the ghouls eyes now.

The other ghoul held out the piece of paper for Mountain to take. It was warm to the touch in a soft pleasant way. As he took it out of their hand he felt a shiver run down his back. A voice in the back of his head was screaming at him to get away as quickly as possible but he shoved the instinct down. 

“I can never express how much this small action has meant to me, so I want you to have this back. I have imbued it with infernal luck and I hope it brings you great fortune Mountain.” With that the other ghoul shrank back away from him again. “I know my presence tends to raise everyone's hackles as it were so you may leave now if you wish. I will not force you to tolerate my existence any longer and we can go back to our normal modes of communication.”

Mountain shoved the paper into the pocket of his jeans and leaned back against the rock behind him. “I think I’ll stay a little longer if you don’t mind. Might as well make the most of you having company out here” he said with a warm smile. The ghoul opposite him looked up in surprise, lines of magic temporarily glowing brighter before his overall posture softened and he started beaming. 

“Now, tell me about this earth ghoul of yours if you don’t mind me prying…” Mountain prodded.

The other ghouls lines of magic flashed brightly again as he let out a creaky laugh. 

“Not at all my compatriot, I think you two would have gotten along swimmingly...”

A short little Frankenghoul aside wherein Mountain finds a left behind relic of their past.

words: 594

Mountain quickly came to realize this was not something he was meant to find. He had recognized the script on the cover of the notebook as belonging to the proto-ghoul they all called Creature Feature and thought it was another part of their usual trades at first. Upon opening the notebook and seeing the frantically scribbled words he realized that whatever this was, it was deeply personal. 

I feel myself searching their faces for the marks of my kin but come up empty. Yes, we are from the same infernal source but I feel there is no such thing as anybody like me. I am not purely infernal, yet not of man either. I can feel the strings connecting us but they will never be enough

Ah, so it was a diary of sorts he thought to himself. He knew he should proceed no further but was unable to will himself to stop. As he carefully flipped the long since yellowed pages he couldn’t help but scan over the words scrawled upon them. There were many places where the ink had long since faded or pages torn in fits of rage but the overall image was still there. Mountain had always known them as a calm and collected ghoul, however strange, but this painted a completely different story. As he moved on the script became increasingly erratic, bits of ink splattering all over the page.

They will come to rue what they made me- 

- this shall not be my first taste of the tender flesh of man--removed my capacity for love so I must indulge in the anger and hatred

If they want to make me a beast then I shall act as one. 

A few ripped out pages 

-On this beautiful moon just like the night I was summoned I have ripped their beloved “Papa” away-

Oh but that sweet taste of retribution! I hope they never forget the image of white fangs and matted fur growing wet with blood. Let them paint portraits-

-semi-satiated boil of blood inside my mouth-

The remainder of the next few pages were illegible, having been stained long ago with copious amounts of blood. Mountain skipped ahead then, not wanting to ruin his mental picture of the kind intelligent ghoul he knew. Finally he found a section where the handwriting had calmed down close to the end of the book.

To mutilate not one but two ghouls, how could the Dark Prince let his followers do this? 

I have searched along all infernal connections I hold for close to a year and have come to the realization that this blasted Earth magic that has been forced upon me is all that remains of my love. 

He is no more, however he also is trapped within me. Must I not only be confined to this wretched form but left with only a shadow of the only one I care about? What sort of fate is that? Another reminder of how truly lonely a role I have been cast.

Mountain wanted to find more, but he could sense them approaching quickly through the woods. The soft internal anguished wolf’s howl that was layered underneath their entire psyche was growing louder and louder, likely as they panicked trying to find their forgotten memento. He placed the notebook back onto the rock he had found, leaving a few sprigs of lavender on top as a peace offering. I am sorry my kin, for all you have been bestowed -M he scrawled onto a scrap of paper before tucking it between the notebook and the flowers and leaving down the path back to the abbey.

[calpicowater]

Day 280/365: October 7th 2018 | 韭菜包 (Chive Buns??)

Slept from 6am to 3:30pm “last night” LMAO........ literally woke up at 3:30 wtf so LATE...... I ate food, talked to people on text, showered, watched some videos, and suddenly I already had to go to work. Work was a drag, as usual ;0; but yay money I guess LOL. The repetitiveness of night market is making my life seem sort of meaningless??????? :’s (excuse me while I cry.... I wanna travel somewhere or even just go back to China again lmao ToT)

[girlactionfigure]

Pearl Harbor - Part 14: The Message

At 5:00am on December 7, 1941, U.S. Intelligence intercepts the final part of the Tokyo's instructions to Ambassador Nomura.

Both Nomura and the Americans race to translate it, but are puzzled by what they find.

There is no clear declaration of war, only more accusations against the United States, and the cryptic sentence:

     "The Japanese Government regrets to have to notify the American Government that in view of the attitude of the American Government it cannot but consider that it is impossible to reach an agreement through further negotiations."

Nomura has instructions to deliver the full message to Secretary of State Cordell Hull at exactly 1pm Washington time, but his staff is having difficulty decoding it, and he will not make his appointment.

To the Army Intelligence analysts reading part 14 of the message, the wording is ominous enough to upchannel what they had.

Army Chief of Staff George C. Marshall informs President Roosevelt, then orders warnings to be sent out to the U.S. military commanders in Hawaii and the Philippines to be on alert for a possible attack.

The warnings, however, do not arrive on time.

Shortly before 3:45am, the watch of the minesweeper U.S.S. Condor operating off Oahu spots something in the water glittering in the moonlight.

Condor radios to a nearby destroyer, U.S.S. Ward, to report the periscope of an unidentified submarine two miles off shore, and closing in on the entrance to Pearl Harbor......

Pearl Harbor - Part 15: Enemy Contact

Following sightings of unidentified submarines in the area, the destroyer USS Ward takes up patrol near the entrance to Pearl Harbor.

Around 6.30am, an American ship reports to the Ward that it has seen the conning tower of a sub racing for the harbor, and Ward moves to intercept it.

When they arrive on the scene, the crew of the Ward spot the sub shadowing the freighter USS Antares as it passes through the submarine nets surrounding Pearl Harbor.

The sub is a 78-foot-long Type A Kō-hyōteki-class midget submarine with a crew of two, armed with two Type 97 torpedoes, one of five subs deployed by the Japanese with orders to attempt to force their way into the harbor during the attack.

A Catalina patrol plane swoops low over the sub and drops smoke markers over its location, and the Ward takes over.

Gunners on board the Ward target the sub, and her captain, Lieutenant Commander William Outerbridge, orders the crew to open fire.

Rounds from the Ward's guns strike the conning tower, and the sub slips beneath the surface. While the Antares continues onward into the harbor, Ward begins dropping depth charges. 

The holes in the sub's conning tower dump gallons of seawater into the small vessel. When it hits the batteries, the chemical reaction releases deadly chlorine gas, which fills the sub as it falls to the seafloor 1,200 feet below. 

Neither crewman survives.

USS Ward then sends a message back to Pearl:

     We have attacked, fired upon and dropped

     depth charges upon submarine operating in

     defensive sea area.

But the message is slow to be upchannelled, and does not reach the ears of Admiral Kimmel for several hours. 

No alert is issued.

Meanwhile, as Ward engages the submarine outside Pearl Harbor, the Japanese carrier task force north of Oahu has turned into the wind, and the first wave of aircraft is launching into the morning sky.

Pearl Harbor - Part 16: Incoming

The U.S. Army radar site at Kahuku Point on northern Oahu is little more than a toy at this point. The trained radarmen have not yet arrived, so the post is manned by inexperienced young troops who are feeling out the equipment.

The radar post only is manned from 4am to 8am, but today the two operators get orders to shut it down early, just before 7am.

But one of them, George Elliott, wants more time on the machine, and so keeps it open.

At 7.02am, Elliott picks up a massive reading - aircraft 137 miles off Oahu and coming in fast from the north.

Elliott calls the information station at nearby Fort Shafter and leaves a message for the Officer of the Day.

A few minutes later, Lieutenant Kermit Tyler calls Elliott back and tells him, "Don't worry about it."

But there is more to Tyler's story. He knows a flight of B-17s is expected from that direction at around that time, but that movement is classified so he cannot tell that to Elliott. 

Like Elliott, Tyler is unfamiliar with the radar system - he is a fighter pilot with the 78th Pursuit Squadron who has been rotated into the radar unit to gain experience. Tyler is not to blame for ignoring the blip.

Elliott continues monitoring the incoming formation until 7.39am, when 183 Japanese planes enter the mountain ranges of Oahu, and disperse to their targets.

Pearl Harbor - Part 17: "This Is No Drill"

At 7.43am, Japanese planes appear in the skies over Pearl Harbor and NAS Ford Island, and begin their attack.

Dive bombers drop their bombs into the hangars on Ford Island, blowing them to pieces and catching ground crews completely off guard.

Torpedo planes enter the harbor and begin targeting the ships on Battleship Row, launching their specially altered torpedoes that smash into the American ships below the waterline.

As air raid warnings begin sounding, more dive bombers enter the fight and target the battleships in the harbor, inflicting heavy damage and killing hundreds of sailors still sleeping in their racks below.

As the horror begins to unfold inside Pearl Harbor, Japanese planes fill the skies over Wheeler Field....

Pearl Harbor - Part 18: "Caught on the Ground"

Around the time USS Ward is engaging the Japanese submarine outside of Pearl Harbor, two Army Air Corps fighter pilots, Lieutenants George Welch and Kenneth Taylor, return to their quarters at Wheeler Field after a night out, and collapse into bed still dressed in their tuxedos.

They're not asleep long when an explosion rocks them out of their beds.

Approaching from the east and the west, Japanese planes fill the skies over Wheeler, with fighters strafing the U.S. planes on the ground and dive bombers targeting the hangars.

The first bombs fall between the hangars, right into the tents where the new recruits are sleeping, killing many of them.

Bombs rip through Hangars 1 and 3, and the enlisted barracks is destroyed.

Seeing no resistance, Japanese fighters swoop in and shoot up all the planes on the ground they can find.

With Wheeler burning and most of its aircraft destroyed, the Japanese planes fly on to their next target, Marine Corps Air Station Ewa.

Welch and Taylor, seeing a lull, grab a phone and call their groundcrews at Hale'iwa Fighter Strip, tell them what is happening, and order their planes fueled and armed.

They then jump into Taylor's Buick and race toward Hale'iwa while Japanese planes shoot at them.

As 1pm comes and goes in Washington, Ambassador Nomura still has not finished decoding the 14th part of Tokyo's message to the United States.

Pearl Harbor - Part 19: The Battleships

At 7.55am, USS Arizona's air raid siren sounds as Japanese torpedo planes and dive bombers fill the skies over Pearl Harbor.

Arizona is struck by several bombs, each causing minor damage. But a few minutes into the attack, another bomb breaks through Arizona's deck armor, causing a massive explosion in the forward magazines that rocks the ship and rips through the area below decks, killing more than a thousand men.

Arizona's superstructure begins collapsing, and the ship begins sinking into the harbor.

Nearby, Japanese torpedoes slam into USS Oklahoma, blasting through its hull, and causing it to capsize, trapping hundreds of sailors below decks.

Bombs strike USS Maryland causing light damage, and crewmen from USS Oklahoma reach the Maryland to help her gunners shoot back at the attack planes.

USS California also is hit by torpedos, and sinks slowly over the next few days.

While USS Nevada's crew get her engines ready to go, a Japanese torpedo bomber scores a broadside hit on the ship as Nevada's gunners shoot the plane out of the sky.

Damaged below the waterline, Nevada is able to maneuver herself through the harbor while her gunners continue taking a heavy toll on the Japanese planes. 

Targeted again during the next wave of the attack, Nevada manages to ground herself off Hospital Point, thereby avoiding sinking in the harbor and blocking the channel.

USS Pennsylvania is in drydock and suffers only minor damage.

Torpedoes strike USS West Virginia and she sinks in shallow water.

Moored next to the West Virginia, USS Tennessee is trapped by damaged ships and is struck by several bombs. As Oklahoma capsizes, she wedges Tennessee into the dock and locks her there, but the Tennessee does not sink.

Chaos engulfs the harbor as smaller ships try to maneuver and fight back, taking heavy damage.

By 8.30am, Pearl Harbor, Ford Island, and Hickam Field are burning, and another wave of Japanese planes is on the way.

Some of the messages sent out from Hawaii as the attack was in progress.

Pearl Harbor - Part 20: Hale'iwa Fights Back

With the major U.S. military airfields all over Oahu burning, the small, primative airstrip at Hale'iwa on the north end of the island is one of the few still able to put planes in the sky.

Fighters from the 47th Pursuit Squadron had been on temporary duty at Hale'iwa Field for gunnery training, and when the attack begins U.S. pilots race for the airstrip where ground crews have their planes fueled and armed.

Throughout the morning, American fighter pilots land at Hale'iwa Field to rearm and refuel before rejoining the air battle over Pearl Harbor. 

Seeing the danger, Japanese planes continuously strafe the airstrip with machinegun fire trying to knock the ground crews out of action, but when that fails, they detach a flight of heavier fighter-bombers from the main attack to pound Hale'iwa to dust and stop the American counterattack.

But the bombers are intercepted en route by an American fighter that shoots one down and chases the others away, saving the handful of men still working furiously to keep their planes in the fight.

Between them, five pilots flying from Hale'iwa Field shoot down 9 Japanese planes, and all five are awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.

Among the ground crew at Hale'iwa Field on December 7th was my grandfather, who got the P-40s ready for Lts. Welch and Taylor.

Pearl Harbor - Part 21: The Second Wave

At 8:54am the second wave of Japanese planes appears in the skies over Pearl Harbor, and begins their attack.

As dive bombers target USS Nevada, several break off and go after the destroyer USS Shaw.

The Shaw, locked in a floating dry dock, is struck by three bombs that smash into the ship's forward sections, igniting fires that threaten to engulf the ship.

The Shaw's fire control teams battle the inferno, but very quickly lose control of the blaze as the flames work their way forward to the ammunition magazine.

At 9:25 the order is given to abandon ship. 

Five minutes later, the fire hits the magazine.

The explosion blows the front of the ship off and kill 24 of her crew.

The catastrophic explosion of USS Shaw is photographed from several angles, and becomes one of the most enduring images of the day.

As rescuers work to pull Shaw's survivors from the water, the shreiks of sirens, the crash of explosions, and the cries of the wounded fill the air, but the skies above Oahu begin to grow quiet.

Pearl Harbor - Part 22: Damage Control

At around 9.45am, the Japanese planes leave Hawaiian airspace and returned to their carriers.

Fires all over Oahu are burning out of control.

Wheeler, Hickam, Ewa, Ford Island, and other airfields have been badly damaged, with around 50% of the U.S. military aircraft on Oahu destroyed.

The 35 men at Hale'iwa Field all manage to escape the day unharmed, but with Wheeler so badly damaged they have nowhere to go, and the 47th Pursuit Squadron will remain in place there until February.

Pearl Harbor is a mass of smoke and fire, with scores of warships damaged, burning, beached, or sinking.

Sailors trapped in capsized ships wait as rescuers try to cut through the hulls to reach them. 

Too many drown before they can be located.

Bodies, many badly burned, float in the harbor and are pulled to shore.

Every medical facility on the island is overflowing with casualties.

The Americans are in shock.

2,335 Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines are dead - nearly half of them killed on board USS Arizona.

68 civilians have been killed.

1,178 people are wounded.

All eight of the American battleships are damaged; five have sunk. Three destroyers, three cruisers, and assorted other vessels are gone.

The Japanese have lost twenty-seven planes, along with all five of their midget submarines.

One Japanese sailor is captured alive.

At 2.20pm Washington time, around 90 minutes after the attack began, Japanese Ambassador Kichisaburō Nomura finally has translated the 14th part of Tokyo's message to the United States, and sadly delivers the entire message to Secretary of State Cordell Hull.

Hull reads a few pages, then says to Nomura,

    "In all my fifty years of public service I have never seen a document that was more crowded with infamous falsehoods and distortions - infamous falsehoods and distortions on a scale so huge that I never imagined until today that any Government on this planet was capable of uttering them."

Ambassador Nomura does not reply, but instead lowers his head, and quietly leaves the room.

Pearl Harbor - Part 23: Reports

By the time the warning message from Army Chief of Staff George Marshall reaches Admiral Kimmel at Pearl Harbor, the attack is over, and Kimmel is watching in horror as the U.S. Pacific Fleet burns before his eyes.

Signal stations all over the Pacific have by now received the official, frantic communiqué:

   AIR RAID PEARL HARBOR  X  THIS IS NO DRILL

Half a world away, many Americans are just coming home from church or are finishing lunch, unaware of what has happened.

The first civilian word of the attack comes from a reporter at an NBC affiliate in Honolulu, who telephones his headquarters in New York to report that an aerial battle is taking place over Pearl Harbor. 

Then the news begins trickling out....

Radio programs make tentative announcements....

Wire services begin picking up the story....

Neighbors start phoning each other or stopping by....

Throughout countless little towns and big cities all over North America, people begin hearing the news of a terrible disaster.

And the news is getting worse: Wake Island and the Philippines have been attacked, and the Japanese fleets are on the move in the Pacific.

All over the country, military families are hit the hardest. On their farm in a small town in rural New Hampshire, my great-grandparents have no way of knowing whether their son is dead or alive, and only can wait helplessly for a letter from him, or a telegram from the War Department.

All that afternoon, Americans are glued to their radios. Churches reopen that night as people flock in to pray.

For so many of their generation, this is the defining day of their lives.

Pearl Harbor - Part 24: Memory

More than 50 years after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, my grandfather, George McBain, was asked to speak to a local high school about his experiences in the Second World War.

He wrote out several pages of notes, then went and spoke at the school.

My grandmother told me that it ripped him up so badly inside that he broke down in front of the class, and never again accepted an invitation to speak about the war.

I learned later that his talk brought many in that class to tears, because they could see that he was still carrying the pain and the anger from the war, especially from December 7th.

Like so many others of his generation, my grandfather - Papa, as we called him - rarely spoke about World War 2.

After years of uncomfortable silences and dodging our questions, my brothers and I figured out that there were too many things he didn't want us to know, and too many things he just wanted to leave in the past.

So until my grandmother gave me his handwritten notes from that talk, I had no idea where he was or what he had done on December 7, 1941.

I knew he was in Hawaii, and I knew he was stationed at Wheeler Army Airfield, but I had no idea that he was actually one of the small group of men at Hale'iwa Fighter Strip who helped launch the counterattack, and I did not know that he was on the groundcrew for the famous pilots Welch and Taylor, and that he had gotten their planes fueled, armed, and ready to fly for them that morning.

His notes were a treasure trove of information on where he was throughout the war, but one line he wrote about December 7th continues to hit me right in the heart each time I read it:

     "I do not know how many service men were

      killed during the raids but I do know there

      were many missing faces."

This line, more than anything else, puts December 7th into perspective for me. For me, and for my family, it's not about facts, numbers, or abstractions.

For me it's about someone I loved and respected, and the things he did, and the things he saw, and the things he carried with him the rest of his life. It's about the friends he lost, and the youth he left behind during his four years at war in the Pacific.

My grandfather passed away before I learned what I know now about his service. I still have so many unanswered questions, but I suppose I'll have to content myself with never knowing those details he kept buried inside of him all those years.

Am I proud of him? Yes, of course I am. But that certainly isn't because of what I've learned about him since he passed.

The fact is that, before I got this image of him as the young man who dodged bombs and bullets and did incredible things, I knew him as my grandpa, who held me on his lap when I was little, who taught me the intricacies of skills like woodworking and sarcasm, and who gave me the gift of a family name that is still remembered and deeply respected in his community.

Being a hero is less about the deeds you do in life, and more about the testimony your life leaves behind for those who follow you.

So remember Pearl Harbor, but not for the fact that it happened, but rather because it happened to real people, people who were loved and missed, and whose lives and families were impacted, from that morning all the way down to this day.

7 December 1941. 

Naval Station Pearl Harbor - HQ U.S. Pacific Fleet

Naval Air Station Ford Island

Naval Air Station Kaneohe

Marine Corps Air Station Ewa

Barber's Point Hangars

Hickam Army Airfield

Bellows Army Airfield

Wheeler Army Airfield

Hale'iwa Auxiliary Airstrip

Battleship Arizona: exploded, sunk, 1,177 dead.

Battleship Oklahoma: capsized, 429 dead.

Battleship West Virginia: sunk, 106 dead.

Battleship California: sunk, 100 dead.

Battleship Nevada: beached, 60 dead.

Battleship Pennsylvania: bombed, 9 dead.

Battleship Tennessee: bombed, 5 dead.

Battleship Maryland: bombed, 4 dead.

Battleship Utah: capsized, 64 dead.

Cruiser Helena: torpedoed, 20 dead.

Cruiser Raleigh: torpedoed.

Cruiser Honolulu: light damage.

Destroyer Cassin: bombed in drydock.

Destroyer Downes: bombed in drydock.

Destroyer Helm: bombed while underway.

Destroyer Shaw: hit by three bombs, exploded.

Minelayer Oglala: capsized.

Repair Ship Vestal: beached.

Seaplane Tender Curtiss: bombed, 19 dead.

Harbor Tug Sotoyomo: sunk.

347 military aircraft damaged or destroyed.

              1,178 wounded.

                 2,403 killed.  

Historia Obscurum

[give-soup-please]

Previous anon here

I understand. Hell, I even get your perspective, at first you were Just Some Guy, but then I saw more of you. You're the guy who really likes soup, who likes analysing and enjoying fan content, who ran away from home. The guy who lived a life worth considering a story in of itself. When someone makes something that I enjoy, I feel happy and associate that happiness with them. I always rejoiced whenever I saw your comments, I love hearing what authors think of their works, or just commentary on it. Just. The person behind the art puts a lot of the art into context.

And I'll be honest, I've read your response over and over again. I don't think it's still sunk in that this blog has an expiration date. Despite that, I feel pressured by myself to say "oh, you can still think of the characters, you can still love them", but considering your ride or die artistry, I feel more negative will come from positive there. (Apologies if this is a bit all over the place, it is roughly 4am.)

Just. I care about you. I feel emotions for you. I see a you behind the curtain of words that you display, and I care. I feel comforting warmth when you post, showing you're alive. I feel conflicted and bittersweet about this whole situation, and I feel hopeless yet hopeful that there'll be a happy ending to this. I want to say that you can walk your own path, but I don't know enough to say that. I want and wish to be able to help or know what to say for comfort, but instead it's just this jambling mess. I'll miss you, and I'll be concerned for you. What I want to do is pull you close, hug you tight enough to make all the bad problems be squeezed out, and work together on the ones that can't be squeezed out. But I am a stranger on the Internet staying up well past their bedtime. And you are another stranger on the Internet, probably sleeping much more consistently than me. I wish I could end this on something thoughtful and daring and caring, but I'm nearly passing out every time I close my eyes. So, know that you are loved, even if it's the most distant, platonic love you've ever seen.

See ya soupman 🍜🍜🍜

I've kept this in my inbox for a while now, just smiling every time I read it. I'm glad that you and others have gotten joy out of what I've produced over the summer, and I'm doubly glad that people are enjoying the glimpses they see of the person behind the blog.

The relationship I have between my hobbies, my academic life, and the characters I love dearly is a complicated one. Even now, despite the fact that I've been thinking through a response for this for 2+ weeks, I still have trouble defining it. I will always love TSP, there's no way out of it, and I believe that the narrator is one of those exceptionally rare characters who I will always enjoy thinking about and rotating in my head. That won't go away, despite my attempts to suppress how I feel about the game. Believe me, I tried. It didn't work, the narrator lives rent free in my head and is outrageously smug about it. Even now, if I concentrate, I can see him grinning, kicking his feet back, and refusing to go. And frankly, I love him for it. Smug bastard.

The blog can't continue, I already made that determination when I started looking at what being a full time student means. It's a shame, but I only have the brainpower to focus on one at a time. And rather than keep stringing people along and have them wait and hope I get to their request, I decided it would be easier on all of us to make a clean break.

Me going off to college is... technically a happy ending in its own right. It's a matter of perspective, really. I'm majoring in English, my long standing passion. The thing it feels like I was born to do. I wrote my first story when I was five, devoured my first analysis essay at twelve, and I was set on the road for wonderful things. I get to read books and write all day, and you can bet that I'm looking forward to it. On top of that, if I keep my GPA high enough, I've got guaranteed housing for the next 2-3 years, depending on how I play my cards. (That's a long story by itself, a combination of unexpected financial help and scholarships.) As a technically homeless youth living in the most expensive state in America, that's huge. Housing is so hard to come by, and I'm incredibly lucky to have the resources I do. It's either go to college, or risk going to the streets. I know which choice I'm making.

While the direction my life is taking isn't the happy fairytale ending everyone hopes for, it's definitely not a tragedy either. It's a complicated transition between one phase of my life and another. There's grief and bitterness and sorrow, but also a lot of joy and excitement.

There are lovely books in this ivory tower, and the gilded cage is comfortable. I am genuinely content, now that the grief is starting to pass. I mean- they're offering a 'video games and culture' class. C'mon, I'm going to take that for the pure excuse and joy to rant about TSP in essay format. Hell, I'll do my dissertation on it down the line, if the chance ever presents itself. Even within complicated situations, there are ways to find joy and entertainment. I'm planning on taking fun, easy A classes wherever I can. Life will be good, because I'm going to make it that way, even within my limitations.

I appreciate your words, whoever you are. I do not know you, I do not recognize your writing style, but your words are seen and appreciated. Hugs, both physical and virtual, are appreciated too.

I'm wishing you well, anon, just as much as you wish it for me.

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, infidelity, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, this part is full of angst and built up tension,

part: 3/6

(other parts)   (masterlist)

Being Sebastian Stan is not a simple thing. Some days it makes him feel like he is only a porcelain face on screen. Nothing more than photographs and rumors. He had once told an interviewer he was scared people would never know the real Sebastian. What he meant was that he was worried he’d wake up one day and the real him would be vanished.

The world would have eaten him alive.

Walking you home, in empty streets in a small country makes it all easier. His mind is clear of dazzling thoughts and his heart is not racing up. He can smile and no one will be there to take a picture of him.

Somehow that makes him smile more.

And when he does, it feels like Christmas. And you are certain there will come a day where you’ll be so close to oblivion and unable to remember what mint tastes like or what your favorite color is, but you’ll still have the turned up corners of his mouth painted in your head.

He stops walking. You look at him confused. He’s fidgeting with his fingers.

“Back at the party,” he takes a long breath as if trying to slow down his heartbeat, “You were talking with that tall guy.”

He sounds terrified. You don’t understand why. He thinks it’s better that way.

“Yeah I was.” There’s a flicker of surprise in your voice.

“Do you know him well?” You realize you have stopped in front of a pharmacy, the halogen light above you, turning your skin a sick green color.

“I know he’s an actor.” You take a step, finding the courage to walk away from him. “He’s kinda famous here.”

You can hear him move close behind you.

“Do you want me to ask Argyris if he’s single?”

There’s mockery in his voice. It makes you feel intoxicated. It’s your turn to stop walking. Your gaze falls on his face and Sebastian can feel his eyes sting but he keeps them open; wide and pale blue.

Almost green, under this light.

“No.”

“Oh don’t be sh-“

“No, I mean it. I would never date a famous guy.”

“Why?” A hasted breath escapes his trembling lips. And for a moment you think of kissing him right there; in the middle of the street, but you never do.

His world moves too fast for people like us.

That’s what you want to yell back at him, but then you remember;

The evening Sebastian fell asleep in your couch, he was more than a famous guy. He was clutching on your pillow like a kid and he was humming to himself like your father used to.

And he smiled as he fell asleep.

There is no argument left in you. He’s just a boy.

“I’m scared.” Your words slowly suffocate him. He feels the weight of your heart pulling him down.

He nods.

/

The next two days pass in a blur. You can hear him laugh with people as they walk up the stairs to Argyris’ flat. You’re not used to him not stopping at your door. It makes your cheeks red and your eyes filled with salty tears.

You haven’t realized until now, but you’ve become dependent on his presence.

So when you open your eyes at 4am with your phone buzzing with an Instagram message, you bite your cheeks.

Are you awake?

You stare at the screen to make sure you read it all correct, until it turns black and then lights up once again.

Why are you scared?

You don’t have to be scared with me.

I’m trying. You want to answer. Help me. You want to answer. Please.

You put your phone away until the words turn blurry.

/

He’s back at your door the following night. He’s wearing a white tank top and his rings. He must have just finished shooting.

You keep staring at each other, both tongue-tied with the words you’ll never say. He looks worried and desperate. You look tired and desperate. Taylor Swift is playing in the background.

“No more AC/DC?” He laughs and your eyes smile.

“Do you want to talk?” He asks.

You shake your head like you’re at war with yourself.

“Do you want to just stay here?” Your voice is too silent but it’s almost deafening him.

Sebastian thinks that he wants tons of things. He wants to hold you. And he wants to touch you. Everywhere. And he wants to know why there’s sorrow surrounding you. And he wants to take it all away.

And he wants you.

But he knows that he can’t tell you that. These words are too heavy for you to carry on your shoulders. At least for now.

“I’ll stay.” He says with a breath.

You give him an almost smile and all you can feel is gratitude.

/

You lay in your bed together. You’ve slept with other guys in that bed before. And it’s been nude and sloppy and brutal. But this is different. This is intimacy in its purest form. You’re both fully clothed but you both feel naked. And so close. So close.

All Sebastian can hear is the sound of your breathing and every bone inside him is breaking. He is afraid he’s turning paralyzed.

And then you move your body and bring your forehead next to his. Sebastian inhales deeply. You smell of faded vanilla body cream.

You look at him and you know then you can get used to that. You bury your fingers in the hem of his shirt. You want him to come closer. He knows.

“I’ll stay love,” his voice is steady and sincere “Anytime.”

He calls you love because there’s nothing else to call you. He calls you love because you both need him too.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” Sebastian thinks you’re always too sensible. It’s something you keep between the hollows of your body. “But it’s okay.”

His hand is in your hair. It soothes you.

“What happened? What broke you?” he whispers.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how everything started. It's hard to remember but there is one image in the back of your eyes that crawls through your skin and makes you shiver. You try to ignore it.

“I don’t know.” He turns his gaze at you but you look at the cold ceiling. It’s so much easier this way.

He doesn’t answer. He just draws circles in the back of your palm and places his lips against the scalp of your head. And while you’ve never been much of a science person, you’re certain this is how a nuclear attack emerges.

/

When the sun rises and you wake up, he’s not there. Earth moves slowly as the cold sheets press against your skin.

It’s early, there is a soft breeze coming in from your open window. A man is bickering with this wife across the street.

You can hear her call him a liar.

I’ll stay love.

You can hear him yell his apologies.

Anytime.

Why do people lie? Why do we lie?

You don’t try to search for him. You take a shower and drink some chocolate milk. You pay attention to the silence in the room. You almost forget your heart is still beating.

/

You bump into Argyris’ girlfriend while taking out the garbage. You like her a lot. She’s strong and pretty and smart. You wonder sometimes, how exactly that feels.

You pray she doesn’t mention him. It doesn’t work.

“He must be flying right now.” Suddenly you feel as if there is something rotten inside your chest. It makes you want to graze your skin and throw away everything that's inside.

You look at her slightly confused.

“He’s flying to Toronto; he has to attend a festival there.” She smiles. You’ve noticed she always smiles.

You just nod and step out of the building. Her voice stops you.

“He’s coming back in some days.”

“I don’t care.” Now she laughs.

“There’s no need to lie.” You take a sharp breath. “He cares too.”

You want to believe her words but they seem like choke chains.

You throw your garbage away.

You keep your rotten chest.

/

Sebastian sits back at his seat and orders a hundred and one drinks. The airplane is chasing the sun. He’s chasing his thoughts. Neither will ever catch up.

He used to like travelling. Airports, suitcases and foreign hotel rooms made him feel free. Now they make him feel the opposite.

The material on his seat is rugged. He wants to go back to your soft sheets. He can’t.

And then he imagines a place and a time where he could just kiss you without any possible consequences. He imagines a place where you could rest your bodies together for a long time without worries weighing you down. He imagines a place where he gets what he wants. A place where that thing between you two is more than enough.

The sun blinds him. He closes the small window and then his eyes.

Being Sebastian Stan is not a simple thing.

Some days he can’t take it.

/

You’re sitting on the floor and it’s almost 9 in the morning. You’ve calculated the time difference and it’s 2 in the morning where he is. That sounds wrong. Almost scary.

He left three days ago but he’s everywhere. There are photos of him wearing stupid floral shirts and posing in a sophisticated way. And there’s Nicole Kidman next to him.

God. I’ve become infatuated with a man who plays in movies with Nicole Kidman and Robert Downey Jr.

That’s what you think and you know you’re doomed.

You expect him to send you a message or a picture at first, but he doesn’t. You wonder if your time together was only a blurry puzzle of disconnected memories that somehow fits in his past.

He’ll simply forget all of it.

You try not to think about him but then you meet Argyris in the lobby and you have to bite the inside of your mouth so his name doesn’t jump out from your lips.

You go to bed early that day. You hold onto your pillow and you count the hours that separate you.

(13 hours with a plane)

(25 days with a boat)

You count and you fall asleep.

And you fall in love.

/

It’s not uncommon to rain in Toronto. But today rain feels heavier on Sebastian’s skin. He remembers the day he met you; it was hot and the sun made the window glass look like it was about to melt. That memory is the cause of his shivering.

Once upon a time he was in love. He was in love with a girl who had ethereal written all over her body. He was in love with a girl who was destined for divinity.

But those were the old days; they are dead and gone now. Your skin glistening under the Athenian sun changed it all.

It’s not easy to feel this way. The sky understands so it opens up and pours down on his dark hair. He presses his eyes closed with his fingers. And he tries to imagine a version of himself that doesn’t think about you that often.

He can’t.

Not even when he has a deity as his girlfriend.

/

The next time you see him, his hair is a little longer and much messier than you remember. And you have to devour all the sense that’s left inside you as not to touch it with your bare hand.

He has a cigarette in his fingers and a dark jacket thrown around his shoulders and everyone’s asking him about the festival. You just sit on the corner of your neighbor’s flat and listen to laughter and glasses clicking against each other. And you smile.

Smile; because he’s here.

And then he notices you and you’re pretty sure his eyes linger on your face a little longer than it's normal for humans. And his gaze is so brilliantly blank and loony that you don’t know how to respond. And then he starts to cough. And he never looks at you for the rest of the night.

You want to believe it’s better this way.

But it makes you so angry; you want to clench your teeth hard.

/

It goes like this; you don’t exchange any words for the next two days and it feels like your lips will start to bleed.

And you don’t know but his head feels like battlefield.

“When do you know you can’t stop it?” He asks Argyris. He feels ashamed.

“When you don’t want to stop it.”

He grabs the beer can and drinks his confusion away. He hopes alcohol will send his thoughts to sleep but instead it sends him to your door.

He rests his head against the wooden material. He can hear water running down and he can hear you humming a song.

And the foreign words make no sense to him but somehow they sound like lyrical poetry.

He waits for the water to stop and then he knocks.

/

Your hair is wet and sticks to your blue shirt. Your eyes grow wide when you see him standing there.

“I thought you’d never come at my door again.”

He looks at the floor.

“I shouldn’t.”

He sounds defeated; defeated by his own self. And you can smell the flammable liquid on his breath. And you can see that he has his nails pressed against his palm. You take his hand in yours and he closes his eyes. You caress the little cuts with your fingers. There are no scars but the skin is still red and painted with fear. You understand and it makes you feel dirty and obscene.

You look thoughtful for a moment and then you decide you can’t go on like this. It will split your souls.

“How’s Canada?” His eyes fill with surprise and he laughs. It gives you pride.

“Never been?”

He takes a step inside your place and his eyes fall on the empty bottle of pills at the kitchen table.

He doesn’t say a word about it.

You love him for that.

“I’ve never been anywhere.” Your cheeks are flushed with a soft raspberry color.

Sebastian realizes then that he wants to show you the entire world. Every corner of it. He wants to hold your hand as you walk beneath the Corsican stars. And he wants to memorize the Northern lights with you by his side. And he wants to see you laugh as he falls off his surf board in New Zealand. And he wants every cliché thing there is to do.

His heart stretches at the thought of it.

“Canada is beautiful in its own way.” He looks out of your window.

You wonder if he’s trying to find some more constellations in the sky, but then he turns around and walks towards you.

“I’ve been there a lot of times.”

Of course you have, you think.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ears. It’s still damp and cold.

“Have you been to a lot of places?” He smiles and nods.

And then you can sense it; the sharp feeling of heartbreak crawling under your skin. You try to ignore it.

“I used to be grateful I travel all the time.”

You place your hand on his chest. The beating makes you calm.

“You’re not grateful anymore?”

He rubs his palm over his face.

“I am,” he inhales “But sometimes I just want to stay where I am.”

Yeah, I know.

He leaves an hour later, still drunk.

Still in love.

/

On Sunday, he takes you out for dinner. You tell him you don’t like dates. He promises it’s not a date.

You know you’re both lying.

He orders some red wine and he drinks as he watches you eat. It all feels natural to him. Somewhere at the back of his head though, there’s still some rationality left, that makes him think, this can’t be wrong, when it feels so natural.

He doesn’t drink any more.

/

You’re playing with the maraschino cherry on your dessert when his phone rings and your world comes crashing down.

You don’t intend to but you see the caller ID.

Love.

He had called you love one night.

He feels too guilty to look at you so he grabs the device and gets out of the place.

You want to throw the ice cream on the floor.

And then you want to hit the wall; with your head. But you can’t. So you just bite down at the cherry and wait for him to come back.

And when he does, things are different.

He doesn’t to try to make jokes and you don’t laugh. His eyes are everywhere but on you and your hand stays away from his.

You tell him you’re done with dessert so you can leave.

He has never felt more relieved.

/

Your pace is fast, but he catches up. You can’t outrun him.

His breath quickens as he comes closer. It’s almost innocent and childlike, the look he gives you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers and it makes you laugh. You laugh and you shake your head and it’s not enough.

“Why?” He can taste the bitterness all over you. “This wasn’t date. So why are you sorry?”

You keep walking and his breath keeps echoing in your ears. You find the entrance of your building.

You’ve seen the place a hundred times but only now you notice how old it looks. It makes you disgusted. It makes you want to vomit.

It starts with him saying he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

And then you rest your body at the soiled wall, trying to remind yourself you’ve had your heart broken before. And your eyes are not dry anymore. And you can taste salt in your lips. And he comes closer and he holds you.

You swear you see tears in his cheeks too, but he’s too fast to wipe them away.

“Have you ever done anything only to regret it a second later?”

You’re not certain which one of you asks but you can hear your bones breaking as you throw your head around and he arches his back.

His hands touch the dried tears on your face and it stings like sewing needles. And his lips touch yours. And for a brief moment you feel like you’re stealing from life.

And he can taste all of you; raw.

And it feels like fists that punch him.

And when you pull away you both have already regretted everything.

“Now you have something to be sorry for.”

You wonder if perhaps a broken dignity is better than a broken heart.

/

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