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justalokifanaccount · 3 years ago

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Episode 2-Play by Play Reactions (Spoilers)

Ooooooh mysterious...

Oh so this variant can (at least briefly) cont people with a simple touch? No need for a scepter?

I NEED A HEROOO!

Oh this variant is taking that lady away? I wonder why

Miss Minutes is gonna move me to violence

Loki is me studying

Hahahahaha get her Loki!

Loki, leave Mobius’ magazines alone

Wow he got into the work force rather fast huh? Bit of a whiplash type scenario considering the end of episode one

No, YOU’RE a cosmic mistake! 😤 my boy looks hot regardless

Sooooo Loki is the most common variant? Why does this not surprise me?

Is... is he a football cup champion??? Omg 😂

Smart boy. Illusion projecting is different than duplication casting. Neato. LISTEN TO MY SMART BOY. RESPECT HIM.

Dude loves wheeling

Yea Loki. Work on getting to the time keepers. Overthrow the government.

Dude is smart with these questions.

Propaganda is INDEED exhausting so that’s fair

Fist hostage... maybe he’s (or she?) gonna use her as a body transfer like Loki in the comics with Sif?

Oh please let this be a genuine smart Loki moment and not just setting him up as a joke and embarrassment...

“Where there are wolf’s ears, wolf’s teeth are near.” Good to know basic mammalian anatomy is still applicable to Asgardian wolves...

Cmon Loki do something cool. Please. Please Loki. Please.

Preach my man, but please, do something cool. My anxiety that you’ll be turned into a joke is spiking.

Is he actually waiting outside or is Loki really just trying to mess with them and throw them off? Or is he just being too cocky for his own good and it’s gonna mess him up? Please please please don’t disappoint me. I have merch for this show already that I can’t return

Bargain baby, bar again. Do it.

Is he actually concerned for the time keepers orrrrrr

Dangit Mobius

Does... being reset... hurt?

Bye C-20 I guess... for now? We’ll see

Of course it’s a friggin theremin that’s playing

Mobius x Judge Renslayer? Oooooooh. Tsundere Renslayer.

Use a coaster my man

Oh her first name is Ravonna

Controversy is the best thing though

You can never understand this Loki. As soon as you begin to understand, he changes. He’s unpredictable.

“I know you have a soft spot for broken things.” Ah, so this entire fandom then?

“But Loki is an evil, lying scourge.” YOU TAKE THAT BACK YOU WENCH!

“That is the part he plays in the sacred timeline.” Well you clearly haven’t been paying enough attention to the files then, hm? Here, let me redirect you to one of the many character analyses I’ve written. Now if you read here........

He doesn’t need to change. He’s already not evil

I don’t trust Renslayer or the time keepers... or Renslayer WITH the time keepers... I think she plays a bigger, antagonistic role than I thought.

You just TRY and delete him Mobius... just... TRY... I will find a way to break the fourth wall and no time keepers can keep you safe from the rage of a million fan girls. Nothing... we don’t need magic...

Omg Loki just sitting there in a chair outside the office like a kid while their parent is talking with the teacher about their “recent behavior”.

Cmon Loki, you don’t need to make excuses or impress him.

My poor boy is SOOO out of his zone.

Tbf mobius, you ASKED. You asked what makes him tick.

Hey hey hey, let’s not gaslight my boy...

The Loki is... uhhh something... gotta keep my hopes up. Trust in Tom Hiddleston...

Mobius showing his true colors...

Please Loki... be badass... not just a joke... please please please... PLEASE!

Mobius, play nice.

I hope this “superior” Loki thing, if it is a female, isn’t a desperate attempt at feminism pandering, chocking up her “superiority” to being female. Please give the characters real stories. Flesh them out.

Juice box time?

No?

More homework?

Bugger...

The sass is off the charts

Librarian lady gonna get killed

Oh boy

Pffffft—

I miss Casey.

Hey don’t ignore Loki. That’s rude.

Bell is the answer?

Poor Loki. Stop trying to fit in. You are best when you are genuinely yourself.

What’s to stop Loki from grabbing the other files?

Homework... I thought I escaped this when I graduated...

Whatcha seeing there?

Oh...

Bye bye Asgard...

Cmon... not more feels.

AGGHHHHHHHH

Please allow him confirmation of Thor’s survival and beating of Thanos!!! He needs that confirmation! He needs that reassurance.

Hear him out Mobius.

“He’s hiding in apocalypses.” Sooooo is that why they go to presumably Mount Vesuvius? I assume?

Mobius, let Loki have your salad.

Rip salad

CASEY

Casey’s juice box

Poor Casey and mobius salad...

Loki, your logic astounds me.

Well, pushing Hulk off of the bridge WOULD have an effect...

VESUVIUS HERE WE COME

He hasn’t really stabbed anyone in the back... except Thor... but not 50 times

Pompeii, here we come!

Ooooooh we gonna see Loki dance with a lady? 😏 get ittttt

Well, if you do cause a branch, can’t you just reset the timeline?

CAUSE SOME CHAOS MY LOVELY MAN

OMG IM HEARING THE LOVE OF MY LIFE SPEAK ITALIAN

I can die happy now

Loki... you look insane.

Uhhh run

Okay you’re good

Sleepy Loki

Let him sleep!

Soooo, I mean, technically, Loki’s actions would still cause the timeline to change, but said change wouldn’t have an impact on the future, just the current moment... so shouldn’t it still be detected by the TVA? At least as a little fleck?

Jet skis?

Omg I just snorted at Loki begrudgingly agreeing with Mobius that jet skis are awesome

Mobius offending my History Teachers for 50 minutes straight... that’s it. That’s the episode.

Mobius really in love with jet skis for some reason

We better get to see Mobius on a jet ski

Fighting for jet skis?

Lol mobius has a point about the magical Asgardians and Jötunns

Glorious purpose

Cmon Loki, destroy this man’s beliefs.

OVERTHROW THE GOVERNMENT

DO IT

TEAM UP AND THROW THE TIMELINE INTO CHAOS

How would you know what the time keepers are doing when you’ve never met them?

How can you meet in peace at the end of time with no chaos?

“You see, I know something children don’t. That no one bad is ever truly bad. And no one good is ever truly good.”

Mobius, don’t patronize my boy. Go jet skiing.

“I know.” Oh good, that point in the trailer was edited.

No candy on Asgard? Poor Loki.

May the best man win? Well that automatically means Loki.

Getting National Treasure vibes

Love you

Alabama will still exist in 2050? That’s disappointing.

Roxxcart.

Loki is very smart. Thank you show.

Renslayer, if you claim Mobius is your friend, trust him.

Kachow!

“For all time.” “Always.” TVA is definitely a cult.

Weapon?

WEAPON!

...weapon???

no weapon...

Meanie...

Are we gonna see what this Loki variant looks like?

I have a feeling this variant is gonna be the female, blonde (I’m so sorry, at the moment I forget her name) in those pictures we saw. Guessing because 1) she was wearing a Loki outfit. 2) her and tom Hiddleston were wet in that picture as if rained on 3) the scene when they enter Roxxcart occurs when it starts to rain due to the upcoming massive storm. So I’m placing all of my money on the table the Loki variant is Lady Loki. Blonde, for some reason. (Or maybe she just didn’t have a wig on in the picture of her we saw?)

Yea please don’t prune this Loki.

Storms a brewing

Good to know Alabama, at some point, does get destroyed. That’s comforting. (Btw this is a joke. I have nothing against Alabama lol. Idk why my brain thought this was funny lol.)

All wet and rainy.

HAHAHAHA USE THAT MAGIC BABY

LET MOBIUS STICK WITH LOKI

Ooh ooh! Is Loki gonna use powers to yoink the roomba here?

Uh oh. Forgot to take into consideration that most big businesses, especially stores, have security cameras, huh?

Times ticking...

Wait was that a reset charge?

Awkward silence

Spookyyyy

Poor dude lol

Or not

Hmmm

Oh???

I RECOGNIZE THAT MAGIC!!! ITS HER!!!

HUNTER (forget her number) IS THE LOKI VARIANT!!! When was she replaced? Or was she always the variant?

That or the other Loki is projecting herself into the hunter? Maybe used the shopping dude as a conduit?

Moment of realization

Smiling contest

No no, Tom Hiddleston’s Loki is superior. I don’t care who else tries to play Loki, Tom IS Loki.

Oh no

Baby crying?

These poor people...

No need to be rough

Is Mobius genuinely caring

Oh... poor C-20

Team up please? Please?

Ah so they really can just send themself into any body they wish, huh? Just by touch?

Loki, learn that trick please.

Sooo, is the other variant Loki’s body tangible? Do they project their conscience into other bodies via touch, or do they not have a corporeal body and rely on others to exist?

Doctor Who vibes

TEAM UP PLEASE

YES

Please

Please?

Offended by Loki name?

Haha sympathy for Thor

Go randy.

Soooo what are you interested in if not ruling the TVA?

Who’s that planting charges? The real body of the other variant Loki?

You okay C-20? (Off topic her actress reminds me of the actress who played Ava Star aka Ghost in Ant-Man and the Wasp) what is real and what about it is so mind capturing for you?

Oh no

Poor girl

Cmon B-15

Hello?

Reset charge

Oh? Bye bye?

HEY!

That’s rude

I miss Randy too

Cmon Loki fight like the badass I know you are

Please

HAHA! TELEKINESIS

Cartwheel WEEEEE

Oooh he swore

Lokis have a pattern of swearing only while taking other peoples forms

Cmon Loki. Go back to mobius. Help them. Prove your goodness. Please.

Poor trucker man

Hello?

Hello!

Fave reveal?

I KNEW IT

Oh????

Flashlights?

RUN!

Is this actually a Loki variant or just sylvie? Or Amora?

Uh oh...

What’s happening

Is she absolutely destroying the timeline?

Poor Doctor Strange. I wonder if he knows about the TVA?

Loki is all alone? Why is he standing still?

Where is she going?

Cmon Loki... help them please...

Loki...

CLIFF HANGER

NOOOOO I CANT WAIT ANOTHER WEEK AGHHHHHHHH

Are they gonna be okay?

How is the variant traveling?

What is her goal?

Why is Loki going after her?

Why is Loki leaning towards the apparent evil side?

Is this actually lady Loki or sylvie or amora since her hair is blonde?

WHAT IS HAPPENING???

So much just happened in so little time. It’s like Marvel wants to slowly spoon feed us with the first 3/4 of the episode and then in the last 1/4, they waterboard us.

Why is this female Loki variant so much more powerful?

So Loki DID know what was going on at the Renaissance fair and was intentionally stalling for her... why?

Her horned helmet is similar to the one kid(?) Loki wears in the comics. One horn broken. How did that happen? Why does she still wear it, especially if she doesn’t want to be called Loki?

No end credit scene yet.

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 3 years ago

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Hi, I'm looking for some advice and/or validation I guess.

I'm autistic with adhd so I'm really bad with both understimulation and big changes happening. I rely on people for stimulation in my day to day life, and have one friend who I assumed I was really close to. Recently my friend had a big breakup which has been really good for them and I do want them to be happy, but it seems like I don't really know them anymore?

They changed into a whole different person and started dating again really fast. I was expecting this change to come but it's still really jarring. I feel like they don't even look the same. They're straight up a different person (which isnt bad but makes me feel kinda uncomfortable)

Due to them having a new partner they haven't been able to talk with me that much, so I've found other ways of stimulating my brain and keeping myself happy. Which is great for both of us, my friend gets a new healthy relationship and I take better care of myself.

So I've found myself not wanting to talk with them anymore? Yeah I send them the occasional text because they really enjoy my company but I can't seem to balance the "new me" whos doing all these new things and taking care of themself and the "old me" who would sit around for hours just talking with them and relying on them as my only source of stimulation. Talking with them I guess sort of triggers my old anxiety to come back that paralyses me and doesn't let me do anything.

I've even found myself getting annoyed when they try to talk with me, because it's taking my attention away from my interests and like I said talking with them kinda triggers me in a way because my "old self" is attached to this friend. They've said they "wouldnt know what to do" without me in their life, which makes me try to stay.

Also they're my only friend. Literally the only one. And I don't want to be completely alone so I stay in this friendship that doesn't feel good anymore. I'd make new friends but it's so difficult to try and force new friends out of nowhere.

So uh. Advice and/or validation?

Hey there,

I definitely understand how challenging it can be to deal with change. Sometimes people change when they start seeing someone. I'm sure your friend will find their way.

It can be really hard when you change and people don't change with you, but you sort of grow apart. It sounds like you want to nurture your "new self" and not be

It's always better to have no friends for a bit and seek out new friendships than to stay with someone you don't really enjoy the company of. You deserve friends who you can have fun with and who you vibe with. You're allowed to make new friends and seek out new opportunities to do so. This can be done at school, a job, a hobby, going to the same store or cafe consistently, online, or somewhere else.

I see you options being 1. talk to the friend about your feelings and thoughts, 2. ask the friend for space so they do not keep texting you and triggering you, or, 3. try engaging with your friend around your interests, so you can maybe introduce them to your interests or feel better because you're talking about things you're into.

You can also try to accept that this friend is not as close as they once were and that you're growing away from them. Try to tell yourself that even though they're texting you, that doesn't mean they're trying to distract you from your interests. Then you can exchange pleasantries and move on, hopefully not texting for long. This is kind of a third option behind communicating. I still suggest communicating so you're not getting triggered and annoyed as often.

Take care.

- Mod Misa

#trauma talks #mod misa

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suttttton · 4 years ago

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The Mage of the Castle and the Mage of the Cavern

Written for Febuwhump, Day 3: Imprisonment

***

The guards come for Jon while he’s sleeping, and it’s only when he is gagged and bound and slung over one of their shoulders, being carried down an endless staircase, that he starts to stir. Even then, awareness comes to him slowly, his mind sluggish. It won’t occur to him until much later that he has been drugged.

Still, Jon does eventually realize what’s happening. He fights against his captor’s grip, but the man’s arms are strong and unyielding. Good thing, too—Jon realizes belatedly that breaking his captor’s hold on him would only lead to a bad fall and bruises for him.

“He’s awake,” the man carrying him grunts.

“Stay sharp,” a second voice answers. Jon looks up, and there is a second guard walking behind them. The staircase is dimly lit, but Jon can just make out Jonah’s crest prominently displayed on her uniform.

Jon tries to ask her what’s happening, where they’re taking him and why. But his words are hopelessly muffled by the gag in his mouth.

The woman’s mouth crooks into a smile. “Told you the gag was a good idea.”

The man shifts Jon on his shoulder. “I still think we should have followed our orders exactly.”

Orders? What orders? From who? These guards are wearing Jonah’s crest, but surely their ‘orders’ didn’t come from him. They must be traitors, then, or, or spies. Taking him hostage, to be held for ransom.

(Or tortured. Or killed. Jonah has plenty of enemies who might want to enact vengeance by harming his beloved.)

Jon doesn’t let himself think of that. Instead, he focuses on taking in as many details as he can. It’s not an encouraging sign that the guards chose not to hide their faces, but Jon resolves to make them regret that fact. He’ll escape this, make it back to Jonah.

(How did they get him out of Jonah’s private rooms? How did they get past Jonah’s wards? Is Jonah alright, is he safe?)

It doesn’t matter. Jon has to believe that Jonah is fine. There’s no point in keeping Jon, otherwise. Unless—No. Jon refuses to waste his energy on idle fantasies. He watches the guards. He watches the stone walls, twisting down deeper and deeper into the ground. He counts their steps, and when he loses count he counts the torch sconces on the walls. When he loses count of those, he pays attention to the quality of the stone, which is getting less and less impressive as they go deeper.

They reach a door, and the guard holding Jon lets go with one arm to open it. The door is bolted shut with a beam of heavy iron, and the second guard has to help him lift it. Dread pools in Jon’s stomach as they carry him into the room.

It’s a vast cavern, dimly lit, although not by any natural means. It’s largely empty, nothing but a stone floor and blank stone walls. At the center of the room is a massive rock, with two iron shackles connected to it by long chains.

Jon fights the guards as they attach the chains—his pride will allow nothing else—but he knows it’s fruitless. Either of the guards could handle him on their own, and there are two of them. They untie his hands, and the woman holds him down easily as the other places the shackles on his wrists.

Only when he’s so restrained do they untie his feet, allowing him to stand. And then… They leave him there, chained to the rock. The door closes behind them, and he hears the iron bar swing down with a loud thunk.

He’s alone. Still gagged, more trapped than he was before. His breath begins to come faster as he starts to panic. He doesn’t know why he’s here, he doesn’t know what to do, he—

No. Panicking is not going to help. He has to hold on to his composure, no matter how difficult it is. He takes a deep breath. Another. His breathing is still shaky, but it’s better.

He sits down for a little while, thinks. Takes everything he knows about what is happening, and arranges them, negatives and positives.

Negatives: There is most likely nothing he can do for himself in this situation, chained and trapped as he is. He is hidden far underground, in a prison that is likely shielded from magic. He is entirely at the mercy of the traitorous guards that brought him here, as well as whichever party gave them their orders.

Positives: Jonah will look for him, if he hasn’t started already, and he won’t stop until he’s found him. If Jon can stay calm until that happens, he’s in a perfect position to obtain information about Jonah’s enemies. And… Maybe his captors made a mistake in chaining him to the stone.

The chains are heavy, but if Jon can break them, he will have a decent weapon to attack the next person that opens the door. They’ll have to come back, if only to give him food. And when they do, Jon can swing his chains at them and escape.

Jon examines every inch of the chains, but they are solid. Even the place where they are driven into the stone is magically fused. There is no way to break them.

Jon sits down again.

(Jonah will come for him.)

***

It’s two days later, as far as Jon can tell. Jon lays on the cold floor, too exhausted to even shiver anymore. He’s thirsty, and hungry, and it seems increasingly likely that he’s been left to die in here.

The door opens, and Jon’s eyes snap towards it. He sits up, heart pounding with something between hope and fear.

And then he sees who has entered his prison, and Jon forces himself to his feet, feeling the most acute relief he’s ever had. It’s Jonah, of course it is, Jonah.

Jonah approaches him, and as soon as he’s close enough, Jon throws his arms around him, careful not to hit him with the chains. He buries his face in Jonah’s shoulder, torn between laughing and crying. He’s so happy, so relieved. (He’d been so scared.)

Jonah’s hands go to Jon’s hair, softly carding through it. Jon melts with it, letting himself relax. He can’t wait to go home, for this nightmare to finally be over.

Jonah pulls away, unties and removes the gag. “There now,” he says, tracing his thumb softly over Jon’s cheek. “I did ask them not to gag you.”

“Jonah, I—” Jon stops, his heart stuttering as he realizes what Jonah just said. “What?” his voice sounds faint.

“I was hoping to avoid this, to be honest. I wanted you to Ask them, for them to explain all this to you.” His hand slides down to Jon’s wrist, over the shackle there. “I really hate seeing you like this. But I couldn’t leave you down here without an explanation.”

Jon can’t—think, his heart is too loud, his breath is too loud. He can hardly hear himself say, “What are you talking about? Jonah, I haven’t done anything!”

Jonah looks fond. “Dear Jonathan. Of course you haven’t. This isn’t about you at all.”

“Then—then—” What’s happening? Why is Jonah doing this?

“Ask me,” Jonah says.

“Jonah, no, I—” Jon doesn’t compel Jonah. He doesn’t. He loves Jonah, he trusts him, there’s no need—

“I want you to know that I am telling you the truth,” Jonah says. His voice is gentle.

Jon swallows. When he speaks, his voice is shaky. “Why are you doing this?”

Jonah closes his eyes, feeling the compulsion wash over him. He inhales, breathing it in deeply. He opens his eyes again, looking straight at Jon and they are still fond, but there is something—cold, in them. Something that sends a spike of fear through Jon’s stomach, that causes his chest to tighten.

“I find myself in a precarious position, Jon,” Jonah begins. “I have many enemies, and few resources to prevent those enemies from encroaching on the few holdings I possess. Given my disinheritance, I also don’t have any bonds of family loyalty to rely on in case one of my enemies gets greedy.

“I need power. Not the kind that comes from a massive army, because I simply don’t have enough subjects to throw into military service. I need the kind of power that an individual can possess. The kind of power that can only come from magic.”

They’ve discussed this before. How to consolidate power through magical means. It’s been the center of their studies since they’ve known each other, but—

“I know you’re confused,” Jonah says. “I’ve been working on a theory, recently, based on our studies of various kinds of emotional magic.”

Jon remembers those studies, but they didn’t yield anything conclusive. Emotional magic in general is more powerful than non-emotional magic, but as far as they could tell, no particular emotion was stronger than the others. And all forms were much harder to control.

“There’s something you don’t know,” Jonah says. “Since we began that research, I’ve been running my own experiments. I had this room constructed in secret, and I confirmed what I already suspected to be true—fear is by far the strongest emotion with which to cast magic. The tradeoff, however, as I’m sure you already guessed, is wild unpredictability. So, I began a new experiment: Is it possible to cast magic fueled by the emotions of another?”

Some kind of despair rises in Jon’s throat as he begins to see where Jonah is going. But he refuses to believe it. Jonah can’t—Jonah wouldn’t—

“The experiments were a success, with a single caveat: the strength of the magic I could cast with another’s fear directly correlated to the strength of the magic they could cast themself. I could become the most powerful mage of our age by far, but I would need another strong mage to act as a sort of... battery. And, well—” Jonah looks around the room, then back at Jon. “Here we are.”

“Jonah, that—What? You can’t be serious.”

“I am serious,” Jonah says. “This room is charmed, to keep you alive, no matter what. You won’t die for lack of food, or water. Any wounds you sustain will heal quickly. And age won’t be able to touch you. In spite of that, however, I’m afraid this will be a rather unpleasant experience for you. In order to be an effective battery, you must spend most of your time afraid. You’ll be alone, for the rest of your life, trapped here with nothing and no one to save you.”

Jon swallows, a hard lump forming in his throat. “You’re just—you’re just leaving me here? How—” How could you? He wants to ask, but that sounds horribly naive, now. He doesn’t know if he should laugh, or cry, or scream. He’s split between heartbreak and fear, and he can’t—

Jonah looks at him for a long moment as Jon tries to think of anything to say, and then he turns away. “Goodbye, Jon,” he says. And then he starts back toward the door. Leaving Jon—here.

“Jonah,” Jon says, starting after him, his voice breaking. “Jonah, don’t—Please, please Jonah, don’t leave me here, don’t—”

The chains clank, reaching their limit, and Jon strains against them. Jonah is leaving, and he can’t, he, he, he—

Jonah turns back, and something like hope stutters in Jon’s chest. His arms are pulled back behind him by the chains, his chest heaving with his too-fast breaths, desperate fallen tears wetting his cheeks. Jonah comes back to him, cards a hand through Jon’s hair. He places his hand against the back of Jon’s head, one finger scratching at his hairline. Then he leans forward, pressing his forehead to Jon’s.

“I will miss you,” he says, and then he lets go.

“Jonah,” Jon says, but Jonah doesn’t react in the slightest. “Jonah, don’t do this,” Jon tries again. Jonah reaches the door, and something in Jon breaks. “No, no, no, no, Jonah, please, please Jonah, no—”

Jonah opens the door, and Jon is screaming now. “Jonah, please—”

The door swings closed, and Jonah is gone.

Thunk.

Jon is locked in.

Forever.

It’s silent now, except for Jon, whose stuttering breaths sound very, very loud. They’re coming too fast, and he knows that, but what does it even matter?

Jon falls to his knees, his entire body trembling. His arms ache where they’re pulled so harshly behind him, but that doesn’t matter either, does it?

Jon is alone. No one is coming to save him.

Jon lets himself panic.

***

It’s intolerable, being trapped all alone in the dark. It’s intolerable, but after the first few days, after the thirst and hunger and aching cold and heartbreak all fade, it becomes a numb kind of intolerable. Jon lays on the floor, staring at nothing, drifting in and out of sleep.

It’s peaceful, in its own way. He thinks this might be what death is like, and he finds a bit of solace in the thought.

Then Jonah starts sending him visitors.

The first time the door opens, Jon’s heart surges with a manic sort of joy. Perhaps Jonah’s had a change of heart, perhaps he’s being rescued from this prison.

But the man who comes through the door is not Jonah. And he is not here to rescue Jon.

The visitors are all different, but they all hurt him. Slowly delivered cuts and deep, painful burns, and bruises upon bruises upon bruises.

His wounds heal quickly, but the fear remains. His dreams are unpleasant, his waking hours no better. He watches the door, constantly fearful of the next moment it will open, bringing some fresh pain with it.

No one comes to save him.

***

The visitors stop, and Jon doesn’t get an explanation. They have stopped, Jon is sure about that. For a long time, he thought Jonah was just letting him fester for a little while. Giving him a break from the pain while Jonah himself rested between battles, between campaigns.

But it’s been months now. Years, maybe. And no one has come.

He isn’t less afraid. He keeps wondering if Jonah has something worse than the visitors planned, something that Jon can’t even imagine. Even that is better than wondering if Jonah has just forgotten about him.

The thought brings him to tears, and Jon hates himself for it. Hates himself for missing Jonah, hates himself for how often he fantasizes about curling up beside him in the early morning, Jonah’s fingers combing through his hair, their bed soft and warm.

It’s so cold in the cavern.

One day, one of Jon’s chains breaks. One of the links just… crumbles to dust, leaving him with a heavy shackle connected to a rusty chain that isn’t attached to anything.

The other chain breaks not long after that. It doesn’t matter. The door is still bolted shut. Thunk. Jon tries it, just to be sure, and he works himself into a panic attack trying to force his way through the door. He didn’t think he had any panic left in him.

Still, it’s… better, sort of, being able wander the cavern at will. He wonders idly if Jonah will send someone to fix the chains. He remembers his plan, from so long ago, and practices swinging the chains around, trying to make them as lethal of weapons as possible.

He can only practice for a short time before he needs to rest, but it’s nice to be doing something. It’s nice to have a plan.

Then he swings the chain badly, carelessly. It hits his knee hard, and he falls to the floor, seized with fresh, sharp pain. Broken. It heals quickly, of course, but he’s still lying there for hours (days?) waiting for the agony to end.

He gives up practicing. It’s obvious by now that no one is coming.

A few weeks (months? years?) later, the iron has degraded enough Jon is able to pull most of the chain away from his shackles, leaving behind just a few useless links. It’s better, marginally, than dragging the long chains behind him.

He continues to be alone for a long, long time.

No one comes.

***

Voices.

Jon opens his eyes a crack, but the cavern is still just empty. The door is closed. Just his imagination, then. A dream, got too loud. He closes his eyes again, tries to get back to sleep.

The voices get louder, and now Jon can hear footsteps. Outside the door, getting closer.

His heart rate picks up, and he presses himself closer against the cold stone behind him. His hand drifts toward his chain, but by this point it’s so degraded that it won’t make much of a weapon.

If it’s a visitor, they’d probably enjoy watching him try to defend himself. It isn’t good, when they enjoy themselves.

But if it’s Jonah—

Jon dismisses the thought. It won’t be Jonah.

They’re more than one, judging by the noises outside. Grunting, straining. Struggling with the bolt on the door.

There’ve never been multiple visitors before. Jon swallows, shrinking into himself in fear. He should have known that this was only a break, that Jonah would eventually bring him more pain, worse pain.

The door swings open, and there are three that step through. He doesn’t recognize any of them, although they all look like people. Once, Jon would have taken comfort in that.

It takes a little while for them to spot Jon, hidden as he is in the shadow of the stone. They’re clearly impressed by the vastness of the cavern, talking excitedly to each other. One of them has a notepad that she is scribbling furiously onto.

The shortest one spots him first, followed by the one with a sword at his hip. They both nudge the notepad one, and then three pairs of eyes are trained directly on him. They look like he’s doing something wrong, by being here, and he shrinks deeper into himself, wrapping his arms tightly around his ribs.

All three of them move forward, and Jon lets out a sharp gasp of fear. He can’t do this, not again, he can’t take it.

They stop, and the shorter one murmurs something to the other two. Then he approaches, alone.

He crouches down a few paces from Jon, well out of arms’ reach. It’s meant to put Jon more at ease, but Jon knows that distance isn’t necessarily protection from the kinds of things that visit him. “Hello,” he says, his voice soft.

Jon doesn’t respond, just keeps watching him closely while also keeping an eye on his friends. When they decide to attack, it will not come as a surprise to him.

“I’m Martin,” he says. “What’s your name?”

Ah, so they’re that kind. The kind whose torment comes from names and identity, confusion. Jon isn’t going to make their game easier for them.

“Okay,” Martin says, if if Jon had actually given him an answer. “That’s Tim and Sasha,” he gestured to the other two, who both smiled when he looked over. “Um, we’re researchers?” Martin continued. “Well, Sasha is, anyway. We’re studying the ruins here, comparing the surviving architectural details to the extant descriptions of various homes that belonged to the Lukas estate. And uh—” he laughs, but not with humor. It’s higher-pitched, almost manic. “We really weren’t expect to find any living things, other than mice, so you’ve given us a bit of a shock.”

Jon just stares at him. What is he talking about? Researchers? Are they trying to get his guard down by—by confusing him?

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Martin says, raising his hands.

Jon can’t help it; he laughs at that. Do they really think he’s that stupid?

A complicated expression passes across Martin’s face. “Well, it’s at least good to know that you understand what I’m saying,” he mutters. He looks away, drums his fingers on his wrist a few times. Then he looks back at Jon. “It’s fine if you don’t trust us, but—can you at least tell us how you got here? Just, if there’s a group of, of bandits or something that hang around here, we’d rather be prepared for it.”

Jon narrows his eyes, looking from Martin to Tim and Sasha. What is the point of these questions? They know why he’s down here. They wouldn’t be here, otherwise.

“Right,” Martin sighs at his silence. “Listen, are you okay to walk? I mean, it’s a lot of stairs back to the surface, and I don’t want you to exhaust yourself, but—”

“To the surface?” Jon interrupts. His voice is rough from disuse, and he hardly recognizes it. “You, what—You’re taking me out?”

Martin nods. “I mean, not—Unless you’d rather stay here? We’re not kidnapping you or anything, but—”

Jon tunes him out, can’t listen anymore over the sudden buzzing in his ears. Jon—Jon doesn’t know what to do. What is this? A trap, or a test, or—

“Where is Jonah?” Jon demands, compulsion flowing from his mouth without him thinking about it, without meaning to. He didn’t know he even could, anymore.

But Martin is just blinking at him. “I don’t know. I don’t know who that is.”

Jon’s mouth is dry. “Who sent you here?”

“No one. I told you, we’re researchers. We came of our own accord, and found this cavern on accident.”

Jon’s heart is pounding, loud, loud, loud. “I don’t—Who is Lord of this castle?” Martin had said Lukas’ name earlier, hadn’t he? Was he the current Lord?

“No one,” Martin says. “The castle’s been abandoned for thirteen hundred years, at least. It’s not really even a castle anymore, just ruins.”

Jon stares at him, swaying slightly, feeling as if the entire floor has been pulled out from under him. Thirteen hundred years. He opens his mouth, closes it. What else is there to even ask?

Jon lets out a sharp laugh, then claps a hand over his mouth before it can turn to a sob. He muffles a harsh whimpering noise, then takes a deep breath, collecting himself. He feels fragile. He feels numb.

He pulls himself to his feet, and starts walking toward the door, chains still jingling around his wrists.

“Alright then,” he hears Martin mutter, getting up and following after him.

Tim and Sasha don’t stop him as he passes by them, although he does hear Martin stop and exchange a few words with them. Then he hears three sets of footsteps, following him.

Getting up the stairs is an ordeal. There are a lot of them, and he doesn’t have the stamina to get up more than ten at a time. At one point, Martin offers to carry him, but Jon doesn’t dignify that offer with more than a glare.

Eventually, they make it all the way up the stairs, and Jon sees—the place that once was his home. Except it’s different now. The tapestries are all gone, along with some of the walls. The soft, luxurious rugs have been replaced by creeping moss and weeds.

He finds the stairs, and begins the painstaking journey to the second level. The three start to follow him, but he stops them with a glare. “Please,” he says, and to their credit, they stay behind.

He goes to the bedroom, what’s left of it, where he would lay for hours, safe in Jonah’s arms. (Where Jonah betrayed him.) The bed is gone, of course, and tree branches creep in through the window where he once sat watching the sunset.

He lays down in the spot where the bed once was. Thirteen hundred years. Thirteen hundred years, plus however long before that he was already imprisoned. Thirteen hundred years, all alone, and Jon didn’t even know it.

Jon curls his arms around himself, arms that haven’t been near enough comfort for centuries now. He doesn’t want to see Jonah again, except for how he so desperately does. He wants warmth, comfort, safety. He wants his home back. He wants for none of this to have ever happened.

He lets himself cry, and for the first time in such a long time, it’s a choice that actually matters.

***

He wakes up, and it’s dark. Not the dim-dark of the cavern, but a new kind of dark. A moonlit darkness. He looks out the window, and through the canopy of trees overhead, he can see stars.

Oh.

He’s forgotten about stars.

He heads back downstairs, and to his surprise, the three are still waiting for him. They’re seated on the floor, a lantern lit between them. Tim and Martin are talking in a low voice, heads dipped together. Sasha is laying on her belly, scribbling on her notepad.

The conversation stops when he enters the room, the four of them all just staring at each other.

Jon feels awkward, all of a sudden. It’s been so long since he’s had to talk to people. He doesn’t know what to say, where to begin.

But Martin saves him from that. He smiles at him, says, “Hey.”

“Hello,” Jon says, trying a small smile of his own.

Tim stretches, yawning massively. “Right, well now that we’ve got this one, how about heading back to the hotel?”

“Sounds great,” Sasha says, flipping her notebook shut.

“Uh,” Martin looks at Jon. “How do you feel about that? Are you okay with leaving?”

“Not permanently,” Tim says. “Just to sleep somewhere where there are actual beds.”

“Yes, that sounds—fine,” Jon says.

They lead him outside, and he shivers in the cold nighttime air. He’s well-used to the cold by now, but Martin notices.

“Here,” he says, holding out the soft blue cloak he’s been wearing around his shoulders. “I don’t want you to be cold.”

Jon takes it, a little hesitantly, and wraps it around his shoulders. It’s warm, and more than that, it’s soft. Jon wants to sink into the feeling, revel in it forever. But they’re still moving, so he keeps following.

Jon expects that they will have horses, and is a bit shocked to see their ‘car.’ He swallows his questions about it, taking a seat beside Martin. He can’t stop himself from flinching when the engine roars to life, but after that it’s—nice. It’s warm, inside the car, and he leans against the window, bunching up Martin’s cloak to use as a pillow.

He drifts off, warm and safe and surrounded people who will eventually become a new home.

#tma #tma fic #febuwhump #febuwhumpday3 #my fic #jonelias #fantasy au #kidnapping cw #chains cw #emotional torture cw #violence cw #injury cw #broken bone cw #time cw #abusive relationship cw

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

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hi ash! i know you said before that you're not autistic you just did a lot of research to depict chris realistically- do you have any advice for finding resources on writing disabled characters that isn't like... horribly abelist? im writing someone with an intellectual disability from head trauma and who is nonverbal, and i want to get it right but everything online seems very autism-speaks-y. im autistic and semiverbal but i dont have an id and i want to be realistic and respectful.

I cannot speak with any expertise or sense of speaking from enough experience to be taken as an expert here, and defer as always to those with lived experience with intellectual disability!

But I will give a few more general tips for what to do when looking to write a character with a neurological makeup that doesn’t match your own, as far as what has worked for me with Chris:

1. The story should never be ABOUT their lived experience if you do not also have it. Chris’s story is not about autism, or being autistic. I would never presume to try and write a story like that because, whatever my intentions, I don’t have that knowledge that comes from living it. I would at BEST be taking the experiences of others, their voices. At worst, I would be someone standing with a megaphone shouting over those who deserve to be heard.

Making the disability what the plot revolves around is... generally just not going to be a good idea, in any sense. It’s moments like this where I feel like it’s best to defer to the writers who have lived it, instead.

This is not to say “never write someone different than yourself”, because... I don’t think that’s at all good advice. I think that way lies stunted writers who never push themselves. But it does mean “do not center the story on this thing if you have not experienced it and don’t have that knowledge and understanding”.

2. At the same time, don’t try to be coy or dance around or hide the disability behind purple prose or refuse to acknowledge its reality. Trying to make a disability sound cute, or talk around it instead of speaking it out loud, can be minimizing or shaming in ways that I think it’s easy to miss, if you don’t live with that disability yourself! To me, this touches on one of my hugest pet peeves - characters who are written as having a particular neurodivergence in media, or shown on tv, but they never expressly admit to it or name it.

I know I hesitated with Chris, more because I didn’t feel comfortable giving him a diagnosis until I understood autism better myself, and I do regret how long it took me to embrace that reality about him. I just thought it better to err on the side of researching before I embraced. But I do feel some guilt about waiting so long when I had readers who were identifying so heavily with him, and I kind of knew, but just didn’t feel comfortable owning it yet.

3. On a related note - disabilities in a story that become melodramatic tragedy or turn the disabled character into a ‘redemption story’ for an abled character. This is so, so prevalent in common media and pop culture and once you recognize it for what it is, it’s so hard to not see it in so many places. Think of how many movies, novels, etc contain a disabled character who exists to teach abled people some virtuous lesson about living life to the fullest or ‘what it really means to be human’ blah blah blah blah blah. Don’t do that. Please. (I mean, I kind of feel like you definitely won’t, but I’m just speaking very generally here). If you find the story going in a direction in which abled people learn something from the disabled person, please think very carefully and critically as to why the story is heading in that direction.

Language alone can also be a problem here - think about the difference between openly describing a character moving around their life with a wheelchair vs. calling them “wheelchair-bound” or “reliant on a cane”, when the cane or wheelchair may actually represent freedom to that person - an aid they need, yes, but one that allows them to live with far more agency than they might have had otherwise.

To describe them, especially from their own POV, as “wheelchair-bound”, may ring false to disabled people who understand that the wheelchair isn’t a cage, but a tool that allows that individual person to feel less caged by being able to more freely leave home.

(This varies person to person, just providing an example)

4. Educate. Research. And don’t just do so by asking people with disabilities to tell you their stories. I often express gratitude to the autistic readers, those with ADHD, etc who spoke up about Chris, talked about their own experiences, identified with him, found him very resonating for aspects of their own lives.

These stories, this information, this sharing of their lives was given freely to me, and I’m fucking amazed and grateful for how welcomed Chris was, and how willing readers were to share about themselves when talking about him.

Their willingness to speak about these things is something I treasure. But I absolutely would never believe that a single person owed me the story of their life to make sure I got Chris right. That was my responsibility, you know? I try to keep in mind the concept of ‘emotional labor’. Asking a disabled person to be your resource is asking them to give, and give, and give of themself. They may want to give you that kind of labor, they may not. But I definitely wouldn’t ask it of anyone without understanding it was something they were happy or felt comfortable giving.

Research, on the other hand, is essential. You mentioned things being “autism speaks-y” when trying to research on your own, and oh god, do I feel you. It sucks that autism speaks is the first thing to pop up when trying to research the lives of autistic people - and in my research, I was lucky to already know AS sucks and write them off and anyone who heavily referenced them as not helpful. I can see how someone might not know that, though, and stumble on them and believe they were a helpful resource for writing autism when they... well. Nope.

Try to think about the express disability you are writing for this person, and why, and then go research! I looked up “books on autism recommended by autistic people”, and found some invaluable books, yes, but also papers published online, websites, etc! Each of them vetted and looked over and recommended by autistic people, so I knew I was getting information that came from people with those experiences and that understanding. A good example - I picked up a book on the history of diagnosis and treatment of autism in the United States, mentioned it here, and @redwingedwhump recommended a book called Neurotribes... which turned out to be immensely more helpful, spot-on, and provided some really excellent foundational information I wouldn’t have found in the first book at all.

There’s a lot of information out there on Traumatic Brain Injuries and their lasting effects on individuals who receive them, so I would start there. What you’re describing sounds like a TBI with lasting effects! So I would start your research there, and also look up being nonverbal separately, as well as combining the two. Make sure you’re not just looking at the top links - often paid ads or problematic organizations that are able to pay more for better exposure - but also scanning for blogs, nonprofits, lived-experiences stories, too.

I found a lot of information on the second or even third page of results i would never have seen if I only stuck to the first. Remember the algorithm on search engines is usually showing you what other people are clicking on, not necessarily the best source.

5. This is one you the asker already know, but I want to include it for general reasons: do not ‘dumb down’ the thought processes of a nonverbal or semi-verbal person. I see this in fiction surprisingly often, and I think it’s this sense we have as abled people (’we’ just meaning I’m including myself) that being verbal is required to have a highly complex thought process, and it’s... it’s just fucking not. Speech and though are related but not completely wound around each other, and the ability to verbalize is not the same as the ability to think.

Like I said, I know you know this, asker, but it’s something I see in fiction/media and it drives me up the wall. So I wanted to include it.

6. For the love of God, do not use medical terminology unless you actually know what you’re doing/talking about. Many disabled people or those with serious medical conditions become what amounts to experts on their own diagnoses, because they have to. They have to be experts to receive the care they should be able to rely on. If you constantly fuck up terminology - trust me - it will be noticed, and it will take people out of the story or hurt their ability to suspend disbelief while reading.

There are ways to do medical scenes/conversations with doctors that avoid falling into this problem! I would just be very very careful to heavily research before using any complex terminology.

7. This disabled person does not exist to evoke pity. They are a human - nuanced and multi-layered - living their life, and their story should always, always reflect that. I don’t really have anything else to add to that.

I would love to hear further advice from anyone with anything else to add.

#writing advice #writing

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orenstern · 4 years ago

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I’d like to admit that I’ve never in my life read the Diary of Anne Frank. I’ve stood outside her house before, almost 14 years ago, and could feel something of her echoes, but never had before or since seen her words or witnessed her mind.

Up until a week ago, that is, when I chanced upon a copy of her diary. I picked it up the very moment I saw it, an instant reaction and so quick I forgot to realize I’d always been innately afraid to read her work, her letters to self. Because it somehow always seemed to me like, of all the work available by now-dead writers, her diary entries would feel the most like ghost stories, like real life talking to a ghost. It’s always scared me, the notion of talking to this particular ghost. No other ghost ever proposed to raise in me the slightest feather of a concern let alone fear.

But she always had.

And I can’t even remember having seen a portrait of her until last week. As hard as that might be to believe.

Where she was concerned, it has been like living in a house where all of the mirrors had blankets covering them. And believe you me, I’ve been in many houses where real life people were still living there and it was just precisely that, blankets over the mirrors, and the inhabitants were just looking at me without a hint of shame, sorrow or remorse in their eyes. Without any hint of knowledge of the display they had erected. If it fact it was them who had erected it. Just, this is the way it is here looks in their eyes.

The fucking things you see over a life. The understated non-plussed near-miss, oh boy did it hit though I am yet unstruck, horror you sometimes see. And how often it doesn’t even faze you. You just step over it like you would any old mound of dirt, not at all an active grave, except the low key and surpressed knowledge reminding you that all the earth is an active 5 billion year old Grave and Tomb and Monument and Pyre all wrapped into one, and all the universe a 20 billion year old same thing.

So I picked up the book. And I gazed at the front cover for a good long while. At her portrait. At Anne. I looked at her portrait for the first time, and I transported my mind back to her house, and I imagined she and I were standing there together, side by side. Outside. Looking at her own house in silence, together. And we both walked away, together, headed for a fast train to Paris, by way of a stroll along the Prisengracht, and short interlude at the Van Gogh museum. No other manifestations than that. I did not even imagine our bodies or our faces. I just remembered having done that before, peering out from the windows of my own eyes, with a companion by my side, and imagined this time, Anne was there with me doing the same.

And then after these thoughts, I opened the book. But I turned immediately to her very final entry. And I read only this Tuesday, August 1st, 1944 entry.

I’m sure I am not the only one who has read her writings and recognized themself in her words. But for certain, what she had written seemed and felt like something I’d written at least a thousand times. Her precise sentiments, and word choices, her very style. Parts of her style is my style. I must have picked that up either from writers who were familiar with her writings or just plucked it out of the wind somehow or some other way. But still that was not the eerie part.

The eerie part was the last two paragraphs. Which I copied down by hand into one of my own journals, with a blunt non-sharpened 3 inch pencil with no eraser no less, was all I had at the time. It was eerie because for at least a decade but more and more lately like the curvings of a quadratic formula, I’ve been hearing the phrase “Set Intentions” like you might hear during guided meditation or whenever someone wants to Exalt the Secret of Manifestation to you.

And I wasn’t at all going to share any of this with anyone. I had no plans to say any of this outloud to write anything on it or engage it any further or even ever again. I wrote the passage in my journal and I’d figured I was fully intending to never ever look back at that passage, or talk about it, or allow myself to recall it, and otherwise resolved to keep the blankets over this mirror forever.

But then I was scrolling this evening and just saw someone had shared a picture of Anne. And that too was a first for me to witness. Now I saw her face twice in a week, at the bookends of the week, both on Wednesdays at roughly about the same time of day. Happy to call that coincidence. Very happy to call it that.

But, I had also been just on a smoke break from my own writings, a letter I was writing to a loved one and the tenor of the letter of where I had left off when I stopped for my smoke break had just moved onto omens.

Oh boy, right?

Well now, still happy to be coincidentally maybe now just only synchronistically having this experience. But given it all, I’d resolved to share.

And by share, I’m not sure I can bring this all into any firm sense of things that could make it any less eerie. Though I will try. And if I don’t fully strike the right note in this attempt, I will know it, you won’t have to tell me, but I will publish the attempt anyway as an earmark of this encounter, and double back on it maybe whenever it is that I have found the right note or chord to strike or strum.

I’m thinking of two things, one I was going to save for my letter when I moved past omens. And one I was going to tell a friend of mine after watching a movie he recommended that I still have not told him. So I will choose neither and tell you both of them in this writing.

Most importantly, this is not at all about victim blaming, please have the courage to see past that, as Anne apparently might say that, at least, one of your two voices, if you only had two, would have such ability. And this, even if that means this courageous voice disappears after only 15 minutes.

First, I can remember back to a time when I am not more than a few months older than my son is now, maybe six months older. I am lying in my little boy bed, in my little boy bedroom in the house I grew up in, a little cape style enhanced cottage. It is night. The walls are blue. The headboard is all white and soft and plush to the touch, and riveted by silken buttons, smooth to the touch and shiny to the eye, though woven round by very fine white thread.

I am laying on top of the covers. This is colorful Snoopy and the Peanuts bedding. It’s not exactly yet bed time. But it must still be before the Vernal Equinox because the sun has been down for a good while and its not yet past my little boy bedtime. And the room is lit golden by a single 40 maybe 60 but really probably 40 watt incandescent bulb. It’s gold in there, it’s almost orange that low gold glow. And I’m laying at angle on the bed. And I’m pointed feet first at the east corner of the bedroom, which is also precisely lined up with Cardinal East. And I shit you not, but on this evening, a few weeks before my actual birthday and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was on my original due date, I was thinking to myself, “I must be dreaming in this life. I am going to remember this moment forever. When I get older. And I believe I am going to wake up someday from the distant future back here in this moment, back here in the age, back here just the way I am now.”

I’ve not tampered with this memory at all since then. I’ve remembered it precisely and often ever since. I’ve referred back to it thousands of times. In a sense, I in fact have never left that room or that night. I built it into every single night since. Like one of Tom Riddle’s horcruxes. And this before I had ever heard Row Row Row Your Boat. And this before I had enough speaking skills to say these thoughts outloud even if I wanted to but enough language understanding to think them and remember.

So that’s the first thought.

The second thought, it’s about that movie my friend suggested I watch over the summer. It was a horror movie, a new one. You may have watched it yourself. Called Ghosts of War.

My feedback to him the day after I watched it was pretty simple. A. I enjoyed it. B. The sniper I think is my favorite. C. It reminds me I have another horror movie That I do not mention to him by name then, but I only say that it is in the genre of horror that is not shriekingly scary, or rather does not rely on shriekingly scary moments. Because it does contain a couple of those potentially frightful jolts. But that is not it’s best foot forward. This type of horror is not the exciting amusement park kind. This type of horror is the kind that enters your bloodstream and stays with you and haunts you over a long period of time, long afterwards. The kind of horror you might find yourself waking up from sleep even a year or more later and not feeling right and having witnessed. D. I might get back to him someday with more commentary. Oh and E. I really enjoyed seeing Billy Zane. Particularly as the dichotomy of American Doctor and SS Colonel.

But wouldn’t you know shortly after I finished writing down that passage from Anne Frank’s final entry, pledging to not look at it ever again, I found myself in another room talking to a person about that actual movie that ghost of war reminded me of that I didn’t tell my friend what that movie was. To this new person I did say its name. It is paranormal activity. The first one. I said that movie is the first time I had witnessed a genuine horror film, That has the capability of genuinely haunting me for a long long period of time, in my adult years. And it doesn’t contain hardly any,if at all, shriek moments.

The horror of that movie is it’s power to slowly and steadily and surely wrap itself around your heart with fear and anxiety, and with full command, Sustain you in that state while flexing and relaxing it’s own valves, to show you who’s boss and who is in command.

Furthermore I told this person, that such a film as this paranormal activity is is not a film to watch when you are in a heightened state of consciousness. You’ve got to be half asleep at the wheel half dead inside to properly survive that film. Because in the final moment, and I admitted this to that person, when you see the demon at last, he jumps straight into your eyes. Straight into you. That movie is perhaps the ultimate act of transgression, that I’d ever seen to that date. And I admitted to this person that it took me a good long while of concerted and methodical effort, to rid myself of that motherfucking demon. Such is the exquisite accomplishment of that particular horror movie. I spared my friend this story, because I’m pretty sure he would’ve shit his pants if I told it to him in person. I think I’m only about 30% joking about that.

But tomorrow being that some stories stay with you longer than others. Some stories you actually have to exorcise from your mind. it’s very good training. Especially if you happen to frequently find yourself in other peoples houses and those houses have all the mirrors draped over by blankets. And those other people walk about aimlessly as though they have no idea how odd that appears to be. if you know what I’m saying. And if you can believe what I’m saying is actually true.

But no I don’t think I’ll ever tell my friend about the paranormal activity story. What I will tell him is another thought I had about ghosts of war. That I think on some level in someway we are all ghosts of every war. Wars that we’ve seen and wars that we haven’t seen, either depicted in books or movies or for trade for real on the news both of foreign lands and domestic. And even wars in our own mind, common place words with our neighbors or friends or family or loved ones. I think in someway we just are ghosts of it. Carrying the crosses of it.

And I remember a story I wrote or a poem maybe it was about a universal snake and a universal monkey. The universal snake head swallowed the universal monkey. Seemingly defeated him in battle. Seemingly killed him. Seemingly was digesting him. But unseeming to the universal snake, the universal monkey to this day will not die. And for all eternity the universal snake has had indigestion on account of the universal monkey’s eternal will not to be extinguished. They say it ain’t over til it’s over. They say don’t stop believing. I say that’s probably very good advice and we should all listen to it. The Monkey is listening to it right now, and has been forever. That monkey won’t quit. That monkey is in a pickle but he’s got a slim to none chance and yet he won’t quit.

How this works back to ghosts to war and how we’re ghosts of war with everyone, and how this works back to Anne Frank. It’s up to you what you wanna believe in, I believe in the fact that God won’t ever let us really kill each other. We might see it happen with our own eyes. Right before us. But I believe that even as it happens it also instantly unhappens.

We have the ability to look backwards in time and forecast forwards in time but we only have the ability to live in one moment of time at a time and that we called the present. We have no idea what actually happens in previous moments of time once we’ve moved past them. Except how they exist in our mind. But for all we know in a moment that someone apparently kills another, whether it’s a person to a person or an animal to an animal. How do we know it doesn’t on happen once we’ve left that moment? Natural law has a place in this world. So natural law gets its way in this world. But there are such things as the overlapping thesis of all the different laws. And divine law is a thing in that overlapping thesis. Just as well as natural law is. So it is totally possible that once we make a mess of things, the Custodian comes along to fix it.

It’s possible along the same probabilities or maybe even slightly better than Lloyd Christmas’ chances of getting the red head which he eventually did.

To another person who overheard me talking to that first person last week about paranormal activity, the next day she came to me with concerns. I listened to these concerns. And my response was what you do is up to you. Including whether or not you trust yourself or not. If I were in your shoes I would try to trust myself. Even as everyone around me might seem intent on leading me to betray my own trust. if I were in your shoes, I would choose to believe that no one actually has the power to do that. No one actually has the will to want to see you fail, to fail yourself. Because that would be them wishing them to fail themselves. And while they might get away with that in one moment in the next that moment is wiped clean. If I were in your shoes I’d be telling that to myself every moment I had these concerns you are telling me about.

I further said, and I stop talking about if I were in her shoes. I further said what you think is happening is happening. What you understand about what is happening is only ever coming into focus more and more. You may not have all the Time in the world, but you do always have the luxury of patience. There’s no rush when it comes to the process of understanding. Something tells me we’ll repeat the lesson infinitely if necessary. something also tells me that won’t actually be necessary. The lesson will come clear eventually. Have faith in that and likely all of your fears and concerns will be abolished. The probability of it being otherwise, however great it seems, as Pascal very effectively demonstrated, infinitely pales to the seemingly tiny probability, the Boson particle infinitesimally small and impossible to fathom yet there it is nonetheless almost something you can now actually reach out and grab but even still something you can see if only by way of prediction probability, of it not being otherwise.

So that in other words no sword actually ever really falls upon the neck but he’s only ever caught by the Hand.

I’ve been waiting to wake up to this reality ever since my two-year-old self woke up to that reality and said I will be waking up here someday again.

But I did tell that second person, be careful the stories you tell yourself. They could be like that movie demon that enters your mind and poisons your body, like that story I told last night. The mind can make almost anything real. That’s a quote from a movie also, but it comes from somewhere. Didn’t it? So possibly probably in all likelihood whatever story you tell yourself whatever imaginary though you have as an objective: if somewhere in this universe. Somehow manifest itself. Somehow find a way to be born and become true. Often a lot faster and more hellishly than you thought possible.

The mind is it’s own place. It can make heaven out of hell and hell a heaven. I don’t need to read the whole diary of Anne Frank, to know beyond what her final entry says. That she was equally gifted at doing both. And that, my friends, is not victim blaming. That is just what it is.

And so behold the final two paragraphs of her final passage:

As I’ve told you, what I say is not what I feel, which is why I have a reputation for being boy-crazy as well as a flirt, a smart aleck and a reader of romances. The happy-go-lucky Anne laughs, gives a flippant reply, shrugs her shoulders and pretends she doesn’t give a darn. The quiet Anne reacts in just the opposite way. If I’m being completely honest, I’ll have to admit that it does matter to me, that I’m trying very hard to change myself, but that I I’m always up against a more powerful enemy. A voice within me is sobbing, “You see, that’s what’s become of you. You’re surrounded by negative opinions, dismayed looks and mocking faces, people, who dislike you, and all because you don’t listen to the advice of your own better half.”

Believe me, I’d like to listen, but it doesn’t work, because if I’m quiet and serious, everyone thinks I’m putting on a new act and I have to save myself with a joke, and then I’m not even talking about my own family, who assume I must be sick, stuff me with aspirins and sedatives, feel my neck and forehead to see if I have a temperature, ask about my bowel movements and berate me for being in a bad mood, until I just can’t keep it up anymore, because when everybody starts hovering over me, I get cross, then sad, and finally end up turning my heart inside g out, the bad part on the outside and the good part on the inside, and keep trying to find a way to become what I’d like to be and what I could be if… if only there were no other people in the world.

Yours, Anne M. Frank

#Anne Frank #Diary of Anne Frank #set intentions #Ghosts of War #manfesting #summoning #positivity #be careful what you wish for #mysticism #book review #movie review

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sabraeal · 4 years ago

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The Great Chain, Chapter 5

The Hierarchy of Beings | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Written for @nebluus for her birthday! It was a MUCH WELCOME break to have something non-obiyuki to work on during bingo, especially to play with HMH, even if this did turn mostly into two OCs having a nice chat with one another XD

Ambassador Prak is punctual, as would be expected from a man raised to the grace of Chanvaty’s gaze, sharply dressed and not a hair out of place. He favors the style of these heathen lands, mirror-shined boots and indecently tight pants, as well as the ridiculous high-collared coats that they wear. She peers at him through a haze of gold, and with the same swiftness as the God’s breath, decides that the costume is not entirely unbecoming. After all, he is here to live among the heathens, to learn their ways so that he may better come to understand what value they can be to Wati. Imitation is but one tool through which trust may be forged.

“I must admit, Most High,” he says, bowing at the waist as these heathens do, “I did not expect your summons. Nor your...request.”

She nods, and ah, it is strange to talk to a man with no screen between them, nor a woman of proper birth to serve as their go between. It is only she and him and the God’s breath around them.

“Nor should you,” she agrees gracefully. “It is not a whim I am accustomed to having. However--” he lips curl behind her veil slyly-- “I have been told that it would be beneficial for the vessel which houses what is most womanly and sacred if I were to...take in the gardens.”

His neck cranes up, brows raised nearly to his hairline. She grits her teeth. In her brother’s court, a man would lose his head for such blasphemy.

Here, she can expect no such justice.

“Is that so?” His voice is strained from the angle.

“It is.” She draws herself straight on her seat, shoulder rolled proudly back. “Do you find that strange, Ambassador?”

“No, no, not at all,” he assures her. “It is common for the ladies of the court to take a daily turn about its pathways.”

"Am I not a member of the same court?” If she were her brother, she would raise that single, dangerous brow, but she settles for tapping a displeased finger. “Should I not partake in their preferred pastimes?”

“I...” His jaw shuts with a quiet snick. “Of course, Most High.”

“Then come.”

She stands, though not without difficulty. Her brother always had a strong presence, moving with the grace of a warrior and the gravitas of a god. She is neither, levering herself to her feet only by virtue of the rests on either side of her arms. Still, her ambassador is awed when she holds out a hand. “It is time that I walk on my own two feet.”

The pace the ambassador sets is slow; so slow she assumes he mocks her until she sees the other pairs that promenade down the garden paths. It makes some sense, in a way-- this is, after all, an activity of leisure, not exercise. Though even with the veritable crawl he sets, her feet ache mere minutes after their start. By the time he suggests a rest to smell the roses, it has spread all the way up her legs, even into her hips.

“Thank you,” she pants, bending over a large, ruffled bloom. Through the veil she can hardly smell it, but she’s glad for the excuse to linger, to let the burning in her legs subside. After all, she has not yet even begun to complete the business she set out to do on this walk.

“My pleasure,” the Ambassador assures her. “It is my great honor that you have brought me along as your particular companion.”

She straightens, examining another flower on a higher branch. “Is that not how it is done here? We have passed many pairs.”

“Yes, Most High. The paths are narrow, and the ladies prefer to keep their parties small, or plan to be paired.” Prak nods, leading her to another bush, one with a flower nothing like the last, but still labeled a rose. “Most choose to come with their closest female companions. However...”

She turns to him. “However...?”

“Ah, well...” He smiles, sly. “Some choose to take advantage of the garden’s more secluded nature and take a turn or two with their, ah, intended. Or perhaps, more accurately, their...intended intended.”

She stares for a long moment. “You mean assignations?”

His mouth twitches. “The court is quite young, Most High. They have a tendency to get into...shall we say...spirited follies.” He slants her a look from the corner of his eyes. “Perhaps you might invite Prince Zen on your next walk, should you enjoy this one.”

She is glad for the veil, for then no one can see how her jaw drops, how her face heats. To think that she-- that he--!

“I do not think that would be prudent.” Or enjoyable, she does not add. “And the prince must have other duties that need his attention.”

Prak barks out a laugh, muzzling it when she stares. “I think,” he says, careful, “that his most pressing duty is your attention, Most High.”

Her fingers hesitate on the bloom she holds, its silky petals slipping against her skin. “What do you mean?”

She is not used to being stared at in such a way, let alone by a man of the God, but the ambassador does, both brows raised. “Surely you have not forgotten, Most High, that the contract between our countries relies on whether you accept his suit.”

She had, entirely. After all, it was not as if her brother would welcome her home with open arms if she refused. He had made that clear enough before she left.

To return would disappoint the God. His face is as smooth and forbidding as any statue of the God, with the same chill as stone. You will stand in his shadow should you return to feel his light.

Her hand clenches in her sleeve. “Of course.”

Prak holds out his arm. They have apparently lingered enough. “It would not surprise me if the king had informed his brother that wooing you was his highest priority.”

She hesitates, her hand hovering in the air between them. This is how the others have walked, ladies arm-in-arm and gentlemen with hand either placed on top of or tucked into their elbow. This is what is polite here, what is expected.

But still, still. She is the sacred feminine, a child of the God himself. To touch another is to profane herself. To touch another is to spell their death.

Or that was what she had been told. But when she had laid a hand upon the prince he hand not burned, and when the concubine had looked upon her bare form--

Nothing. Perhaps this country is a sight too far for even Atar Wat’s gaze.

She lays down her hand, his coat rough beneath the sensitive pads of her fingers. “He has a strange way of showing it.”

“Has he not come to see you?”

“No.” It has been a relief; she had thought a man who loved his own voice so would importune her with it more often. “We spoke only the once. The first day.”

Were he not a man of dignity and gravitas proper to his station, she might say that Ambassador Prak was agog. “That was nearly a week ago.”

She shrugs a hand. “So you say.”

“Hah.” Prak hums, thoughtful. “Did you say anything to make him think you would not want his company?”

Until we are married, she had said, so sure, so proud, I will remain untouched by your eyes.

“Ah, there.” She points around a bend in the path. “Come, tell me the name of this flower.”

She might not be much of a hunter, but by the God’s grace, she still finds her quarry.

Mistress Shirayuki. Prak good humor is unfeigned when the woman startles, red tail whipping over her shoulder. I suppose it should be no surprise to find you here.

Ambassador Prak. The concubine stands, her smile more strained than his. Munkhtsesteg. Prak’s brow twitches at the name. I didn’t expect to have visitors.

We were only passing through, he assures her, slanting her a questioning glance as her hand tightens on his sleeve. Her Most High wished to see the gardens.

They are lovely this time of year. Or any time of year, really! The girl’s smile puts the sun to shame. She might be the god’s vessel, but it is she who is blinded when Shirayuki looks at her. I’m happy to see you’re taking my advice.

The ambassador’s brow twitches again, and she resists the urge to hunch in on herself, to become smaller as the lesser folk do in the presence of their betters. But there is no man or woman who can claim themself her better, save for her brother and the God, so she stands tall. Who is this man, born under the gaze of Rith, to question her?

I had thought it might be prudent to see these much vaunted gardens, she allows graciously. Since it seems this...promenading is the activity favored by the young ladies of this court.

The concubine nods, pulling at the thick gloves covering her hands. And what do you think?

“It’s vulgar,” she says, the disgust on her face masked by the weave of her veil. The concubine’s smile does not fade, but she glances up at Prak, brows raised in question.

Her Most High means that it is quite different from her brother’s court. Her glances down at her, mouth pinched. The transition between them if quite...difficult.

A politique answer from a politique man. She would have expected no less from their finest diplomat.

Oh? Shirayuki’s face is alight with interest. Are the gardens very different there? Do you have colder place to grow plant from other countries, or--?

Ah. Prak smiles, chagrined. I do believe Her Most High meant that the...activities are different, not so much the gardens.

But they are, she supplies, too eager. Come, you shall walk with us, and I will tell you of them.

The concubine stiffens, every inch of her pale skin blooming with crimson. She worries-- surely the girl would not be so gauche as to suffer apoplexy here, now, in the garden of her king.

Most High, the ambassador says, as harsh as a whip’s crack. Surely Mistress Shirayuki has duties to attend to.

Oh, no! When she looks again, the girl is smiling, wide and bright. I would be happy to come. I just need to finish a few things here first. Do you mind waiting?

Of course not. Her lips curve wickedly beneath her veil. There are times where even the God must hold his breath.

The girl’s gaze skitters to the ambassador before meeting hers again. Then I’ll be just a moment.

#akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #ans #hierarchy of beings #zen wisteria/oc #this chapter started out with basically where she meets shirayuki #and had no ambassador prak #and covered a host of scenes i didn't get to in this version #WHICH I'M A LITTLE MIFFED OVER #but...we'll get there #exciting things are coming #ensemble fics are always a little slow to start #but we're GETTING THERE

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icatnoir · 6 years ago

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Digimon Pairings Rant

So i want to rant a little about the Digimon pairings. I re-watched season 1 and tri (not such a big fan of season 2) And I noticed some pretty interesting things. To make it clear, yes I am a Taichi x Yamato shipper and I hate seeing any of them with the girls but that is not why i made this post. Funny thing is that from the start Taichi and Yamato almost always seemed to be paired with each other. So here is my sorta theory. Also, I think all of these pairings match really well and are kinda already there in front of us since season 1.

Koshiro x Mimi

So in Adventure 1 when they all get split up cause of Devimon surprisingly enough Mimi is the one to find Koshiro, the two continue their trip together in search for the others. When I was younger and watched Digimon I didn’t really think much of this pairing, but with Tri now here, I look different to the fact these 2 ended up being paired together after being split up. Was this already a sign?

In Tri it is very Obvious that Koshiro likes Mimi in a romantic way, there is just no way around it. I think they make a good couple.

Joe x Sora

I know this is not the pairing people want to see since most ship Sora with either Taichi or Yamato... However someone popped the idea of Sora and Joe in my head and when I started thinking about it they DO actually make a good match. Sora seems the type to need someone that she can rely on/understands her if needed and yet would allow her to do things her own way, and what was Joe’s crest again? ;) Again after devimon separated them all, Joe and Sora end up together. a Sign?

In Digimon Tri I have 2 scenes where I really think you can see that Joe cares for Sora, One being the one on this picture. He is the first one to yell her name, run towards her and catches her after she fell down from Phoenixmon and looks worried. The other one I will put at the end as its multiple pairings.

Takeru x Hikari

No need to explain this, I think this might be the only pairing almost every Digimon fan agrees on XD

Taichi x Yamato

Prepare for a lot of reading.....XD

Yes, these 2 are my main ship in Digimon. Cause even though they fight a lot... All that anger hides love.. In season 1 there are a few moments where it is pretty obvious the two care a LOT for each other. Like in the battle with Piedmon where Yamato comes just in time to ‘save’ Taichi. He holds him close as they talk and even some tears show up. Also a funny thing I noticed, in the episode where Yamato’s crest starts glowing and Garurumon digivolves to Weregarurumon there is this scene where Taichi arrives at the restaurant and goes looking for Yamato in the back. When Takeru greets his brother soon after Yamato’s first question is “So where is Tai?” And these two are also the ones that end up together after devimon splits them all up. And look how Happy they are, holding hands while staring in each others eyes... ;)

In Tri there is simply no way around these two... The looks they give each other and the tension between them and the subtile hints that are dropped during their conversations, just date already.... Also when Yamato tells Taichi about the fact its better if more of their digimon reach mega level so they won’t have to rely on omegamon so much anymore and it be easier on Taichi..... That BLUSH guys....

Yamato and Taichi might fight and argue a lot together, but i still think they would make a good match for the fact they cannot go WITHOUT the other either. They need each other to be balanced out. I listened to the character songs of them both plus Yamato’s band song “which” and there are a few lines that really can only be for the two of them.

In Taichi’s Character songs he sings:

As we cross paths, as we clash Adventuring through space and time

The only one Taichi “Clashes” with is Yamato....

And then in Yamato’s bands song “Which’ he sings:

Once again I lose sight of my raw passion We’re afraid to face each other, So we make the same mistakes over and over WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY did I let go of your hand? I wonder what I was trying to tell you

I don’t think this can be about anyone else then Taichi... it fits PERFECTLY. And the “let go of your hand” is directed at the first season when they get shot with the arrows of Hope and Light.

Also, this scene.... i have a good line for it “Trying to understand girls but failing cause you gay as f*ck” XD

This made me kinda upset.... its very clear that Yamato misses Taichi a lot and is kinda emotional about it towards Gabumon.

I can rant on about these two but i will save you all that reading.

More Proof sorta?

Check Joe being Mr nice guy and holding his hand on Sora her back ;)

Not much to say about these 2 pictures. They honestly explain themself. All 3 Pairings together and holding each other after Taichi dissapeared. This was the moment i realised that these pairings made so much sense and look so good together.

So this was the final scene in Adventure 2. Appart from the kids and the season 2 characters look at it. Again the 3 pairings (aside from Takeru and Hikari this time since Takeru took the picture) are standing close. I put white circles around them to make it more clear. Yes... I know that if you look at the kids that Sora and Yamato obviously... did stuff together.... lol... but look at how far Sora and Yamato are standing from each other, sorry but i just can’t see them as a happy family when she is obviously standing so close to Joe and Yamato to Taichi. Taichi and Yamato standing close (even with the 2 kids included) like a couple. Then you got Sora and Joe standing close like a couple, and don’t mimi and Koshiro look like a happy family together?

So yeah that was my kinda rant? It was in my head for some time and i decided to just post it on here. Maybe people have the same thoughts or maybe you hate me for posting this LOL Either way is fine since it’s my personal opinion on it all and everyone is allowed to see things in his or her way :)

-Daniel

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lizartgurl · 6 years ago

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ALL THE NUMBERS FOR THE OC ASK

MAV NO

Okay I’ll just pick one of my COJ characters for each question here we go *cracks knuckles*

For my Crusaders of Justice series (currently about five books), we have-

Joan Ngo

Roxanne Chance

Lord Joseph of Alexandria

Daniel Wright

Rebecca Brandt

Alvin James “AJ” Brandt

Samuel Payton

Emma Payton

Willow Hawkins

And yes, this is my series based on my biggest Young Justice fanfiction, so see if you can guess which character resembles who ;)

1. How many different places have they lived?

Due to his royalty, Joseph was never allowed to leave the borders of the city of Alexandria. That didn’t keep him from sneaking out and travelling to the surface. He mostly used his powers to help out small towns on coastlines, but he is somehow always drawn back to the City of Los Angeles.

2. What is their dream vacation?

Rebecca wants to travel the world, see everything it has to offer outside of her family and her mother’s constant supervision.

3. What is their favorite color?

AJ’s favorite color is orange. Appalled by the lack of orange cars, he decided to make his own for his sixteenth birthday. He and Becca learned the mechanics together. and she helped him.

4. What is their favorite book?

Roxanne rereads her mother’s spellbooks over and over. It makes her feel like her mother is there to help her anyway.

5. Have they ever cheated on anyone before?

Joseph can’t help but feel like he cheated on Theolian by breaking up with him and traveling to the surface himself, and subsequently meeting his new friends and falling for other people.

6. Have they ever been cheated on?

Tom pretty much broke Emma’s heart after he sided with his uncle and told Walter her secrets.

7. How many partners have they had?

Joan is too scared to ever date them. She’s always afraid that what happened to her mother would happen to her. But thanks to Roxanne and their new friends, she’s slowly learning to trust.

8. What is their favorite food?

Willow loves spicy foods even if it makes her sick.

9. Are they a liar? Are they good at lying?

Daniel has an extraordinary poker face for someone who has never played poker. If the others need someone to cover them, it’s Daniel.

10. Introvert or Extrovert?

Sam is an extrovert, which makes him overwhelm himself nine times out of ten.

11. Have they ever been arrested and why?

Rebecca was hauled to the principal’s office for using the girls toilets on a terrible day where she just didn’t care anymore, but AJ helped her get detention rather than arrested.

12. Who would they sacrifice their life for?

Willow would die for any of her new friends. After all, they almost died for her. Multiple times.

13. What are their spending habits?

Emma tries not to let her mentor’s financial status go to her head, but she forgets sometimes that not everyone can get 50 grand at the drop of a hat.

14. Do they like hot or cold temperatures better?

Rebecca likes the cold because then it doesn’t get hot under her hijab.

15. Are they religious?

AJ’s half of the family is Jewish, Rebecca’s is Muslim. Sam and Emma are Christian, with some Hindi influences, and Willow and Daniel are trying to learn more about the spirituality of their ancestors.

16. If they could describe themself in one sentence, what would they say?

“It’s just me, your local bisexual street witch and her gay sidekicks!” -Roxanne

17. Do they have any overused catchphrases?

“Hello!” -Sam

18. What makes them laugh?

Not necessarily laughing, but seeing her brother and friends happy makes Emma feel safe and happy.

19. Have they ever lost anyone close to them? How did it affect them?

Willow misses her father and her memories of him, and she can’t help but feel like she’s lost the chance to really know her mother because of how distant Brianna became after losing her husband and daughter the first time. She wishes that her father had never sacrificed himself and that all this had never happened, but she doesn’t quite think that wish through.

20. Do they have a fast reaction time, or slow?

Joan has lightning fast reflexes. She will not let herself be caught off-guard ever again.

21. How do they react to praise?

Daniel is always a little surprised. He never got any form of positive reinforcement in the vault, so joining the football team with Joseph and AJ is really good for him. He’s a perfectionist, and he doesn’t hold back because of his training in the vault. The first time he messes up is a fumble during the homecoming game that costs them the final touchdown and he’s terrified of what the team will do to him, especially AJ and Joseph, because they matter so much to Daniel. He finally starts to understand how different it is when Nick takes the whole team and the cheerleaders out for milkshakes before Serene’s house party and tells Daniel especially how much he’s improved.

22. How do they react to criticism?

Emma takes a lot of criticism from Tom especially. Being with her friends helps her forget it, at least until she’s alone again and remembers what Tom has told her and how even her brother doesn’t accept her. (Yes, Tom is the abusive boyfriend the team is gonna save her from)

23. Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy?

Joan prefers to be outside. She feels freer that way.

24. What are their biggest pet peeves?

Rebecca’s is having her gender disrespected (She’s a trans girl)

25. Do they have any type of handicaps? How do they manage them?

Sam is autistic! He gets overwhelmed very easily with crowds, small spaces, loud noises, and certain touch sensations, and he hyperfixes on birds and computers, because they make him think of his parents and family. Emma is his crutch, his main link with reality, but he really connects with AJ and Roxie too, and he starts to not rely on Emma too much. He and his friends are all learning more about how to work with his autism every day.

#ask lizart #my ocs #nightingale #phoenix #joseph #joan #alvin #roxanne #starling #rebecca #daniel #coj

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cesium-sheep · 4 years ago

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putting my baseball cap on to leave the apartment for errands hurt? it felt like my head itself was swollen. arin wheeled me around as promised, we got the sheet insulation I wanted then got the rest of the yarn for arin’s blanket (they didn’t have enough of the color they’d initially wanted but there was a nice grey they were equally happy with), and there was some pretty yarn that was on a very good sale (and it’s that mega-chunky yarn I always find vaguely fascinating), and I don’t have any project in mind for it but the sign said it was marked down from $30 to $10 so arin picked it up while I was waffling about it, even said they’d pay for it if necessary. and that if I didn’t want to make anything for myself out of it I could make something for them, or they could learn something other than the chain stitch and make something for themself. then when we got to the checkout it was even more discounted than that, like less than $3, which is wild. I also had a 20% off coupon for arin’s yarn.

so I’d set $50 aside for those two errands, and ended up spending $39.50 even with the extra yarn. so I have almost $50 left over and I’m getting my allowance tomorrow, so I can get myself something nice once I get the application started (and go to my appointment on tuesday TnT it’s on the other side of campus, it’s gonna hurt.)

my head started hurting at michaels, which is a big part of how we managed to not get distracted at either store despite both having lots of stuff I like to shop through, so arin brought me home instead of taking me to the grocery store with them. we’d already had the fallback plan of parking me at the coffee shop while they did the actual grocery shopping, so I made sure my stuff on the list was pretty specific. (the couch with the blinds down is a lot comfier than my wheelchair in a busy shop with headphones in, was the deciding factor.) they seem to have trouble getting their head around how to get my wheelchair into the car, so I demonstrated how I do it as we were leaving michaels. (you gotta use your own body as leverage/blocking, instead of relying entirely on strength.) they said they’re probably gonna just have to trial-and-error their own way of doing it anyway, although pointing out the fixed points was helpful to them.

I hate this so much. I can’t even run errands where all I have to do is be awake in public. at least it will be fall soon, and being cold hurts less.

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kindiekritz · 7 years ago

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all for the gay ask memes, yo. :D

Hey anon! Thanks for requesting this!

It’s a bit of a long post, but I’ll see if i can figure out how to add a ‘read more’ to this ask later!!

1. describe your idea of a perfect date

I’ve never actually gone on a date before, so I have no experience, but I always thought that a dinner date followed by a movie or nexflix. Bonus points if it’s an animated movie!

2. whats your “type”

Before all else I’d like to date someone kind, someone who would look past my many flaws and still accept me despite of them. Maybe someone with a great sense of humor and someone who knows when to laugh at themself.

And they’d need to show passion and enthusiasm for life!! I recently started developing a crush on a gal, but to be quite honest now that the infatuation is wearing off, she’s kind of a drag? Like there’s no sense of excitement or happiness in her messages, maybe she just doesn’t like me and she’s intentionally being dry to make me feel bored and to make me leave or something, but if that was the case then it worked. I don’t like people who dismiss and blow off people in that sort of manner either, because you are not worth more or less then the average person next to you.

3. do you want kids?

I used to think that I didn’t, but maybe in 15 years or so, if I am married and i have a stable lifestyle and home, I’d like to have children i think.

I was raised by a single mother most of my childhood, and while my mom did the best she could, it was still painful not having a second parent to rely on, or to simply have as both parents as role models for a functional family. I’d need to have a willing partner who I am very much in tune with in order to raise children, I don’t want them to go through the same pain of divorce or the pain of having a broken family.

And having monetary and home stability are even more important, i also grew up in a lower-middle class family that sometimes had to use food stamps to get by, and my mom and i moved over 15 times by the time I was 15 years old. I really want to be able to provide a safe and stable home for children if I decide to have any in the future.

4. if you do, will you adopt or use some other form of child birth?

Adoption and pregnancy are my two main choices I suppose?

I mean traditionally women are supposed to want to get pregnant and go through the pregnancy process, it’s a natural want and desire after all, and I am no different. But due to health issues I fear that if I choose the pregnancy route it would just be a selfish choice to simply satisfy a want I have, without thinking about the health of both myself and the hypothetical baby. However I don’t want to cross off the idea all the way through, and perhaps science and technology will develop enough by that time to allow me to safely carry a child to term.

Adoption is my second choice, and overall it might be the best. However currently there are many blockades regarding same sex couples adopting, and that might be an issue. And many children who come out of the system unfortunately have suffered trauma and abuse, many of which requires extensive knowledge and experience that parents need to have beforehand caring for a child who has those mental burdens. And unfortunately I may not be the best candidate for caring for a child who needs extensive care like that due to my own mental illnesses.

5. describe the cutest date you’ve ever been on

I’ve never been on a date unfortunately :(

6. describe your experience having sex for the first time (were you nervous? or was it easy peasy?)

I’ve never gotten the succ :’(

7. are you a morning time gay or night time gay?

I kid you not, it’s literally 4:20 in the morning as I write this rn. Definitely night time gay

8. opinion on nap dates?

They’re great, would actually love to go on one some day :’)

9. opinion on brown eyes?

Brown eyes are so cute?? But not mine tho, mine are p drab.

10. dog gay or cat gay?

Definitely a dog gay, but I’d love to own a cat someday tbhh

11. would you ever date someone who owned rodents or reptiles?

yES!! I’ve always wanted a pet rat and like bearded dragons and leopard geckos are absolutely adorable

12. whats a turn off you look for before you start officially dating someone

If someone is judgmental without good reason is a really big turn off, and someone who has no mark of individuality is something that really bugs the hell out of me.

13. what is a misconception you had about lgb people before you realized you were one?

I never really had any misconceptions really?? Probably just that i thought it was not as common as it actually is tbh.

14. what is a piece of advice you would give to your younger self

“hey kids, i know youre struggling right now but im here to tell you, everything gets worse forever”- Twitter user Wolf pupy

15. (if attracted to more than one gender) do you have different “types” for different genders?

I want a guy who will beat the shit out of my enemies, but I want a woman who will beat the shit out of me ;)

(not in an abusive sort of way, abuse is not cool kids)

16. who is an ex you regret?

I’ve never dated, so I don’t have an ex, but I regret every single crush I’ve ever had in the history of ever bc they turn out to be p mean ppl.

17. night club gay or cafe gay?

Night clubs are too loud and bright and shit??? I don’t like them and they smell gross?? I prefer cafés

18. who is one person you would “go straight” for

I’d go straight for many guys, I am still bisexual after all and boys are v cute

19. video game gay, book gay, or movie gay?

pls,,, definitely video game gay there is no doubt about it

20. favourite gay ship (canon or not)

Lapidot is a very sweet ship that makes me rlly happy tbh

21. favourite gay youtuber

Idk, I wouldn’t really watch a YouTuber just bc they’re gay, and nobody really comes to mind

22. have you ever unknowingly asked out a straight person?

I’ve never asked anyone out in the history of ever, so no

23. have you ever been in love?

I’m not sure how being in love is supposed to be like, I wouldn’t know how to respond to this question honestly

24. have you ever been heartbroken?

Yes, definitely. Ppl are not v nice

25. how do you determine if you want to be them or be with someone

Basically it’s just like “can i imagine myself doing cute domestic shit with this person??”

26. favourite lgb musician/band

Idk?? The most popular music by lgb musicians isn’t really my taste, but I usually just stick to the ppl I already know

27. what is a piece of advice you have for young / baby gays

Be kinder to yourself and don’t belittle your accomplishments, you’re stronger then you know.

28. are you out? if so how did you come out

I am mostly out! I have to come out to a couple of friends from school but really mostly everyone knows

29. what is the most uncomfortable / strange coming out experience you have

I came out to my mom around 2-3 in the morning, and unfortunately I found out the next day that the Pulse Club shooting was taking place at the same time I was coming out. It definitely made my mom recoil and made her less accepting of my identity at the time.

30. what is a piece of advice for people who may not be in a safe place to express their sexuality

Don’t feel pressured to come out because you feel it’s mandatory, because it’s not. If it can affect your life in a negative way then please, do not do it. Wait until you are in a safer situation and you have a backup plan set up.

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fireballofinsanity · 7 years ago

Note

All the Symbols for Aoi

Send me a symbol for headcanons!

Aka Pom needs a readmore for this and dies laughing that there’s three more of these in the inbox- XD

☠ : Are there any recent/daily thoughts they have about death or dying?

Not really? Granted as things progress in the academy, she might get a couple of thoughts about dying (Considering nearly everyone dies when Yubel’s trying to get at Jaden), but for the most part she doesn’t give much thought to it.

☯ : Do they believe for every darkness there is a lightness? If not, why?

She does, but at first it’s not something she gave much thought to. The first couple of years she was in the academy, she firmly believed that for everything negative that happened, something good would come after, but she never really dweled on it. But after the events with Yubel, her views started to change; she became a light to counteract a darkness: Jaden. She made herself into his good thing, his companion and partner and refused to leave his side, even when he’s distant. She really, truly believes in there being a light for every darkness by that point, and swears by it.

♥ : Name one thing about the way their emotions work that they despise.

The fact she can’t control herself too well around boys, Chazz and Jaden aside. It’s not even for any huge reason, she’s just awkward around them and she hates that. So far, only Jaden and Chazz have managed to get past those walls, and only Jaden is close enough to actually touch her without her turning into a prickly, flustered mess, which just proves it can be overcome~

☆ : Would they ever wish upon a falling star? If so, what would they wish?

For peace… And to ace her next field exam. XD Actually, her first wish would be a selfless one: For him to keep smiling and ace his exams. She’d follow with something more selfish.

☁ : Describe how they would spend a stormy, overcast/rainy day.

Depends on who she’s with, really. If she’s on her own or stuck with her (actual XD) roommates, she’s bound to either just stay in bed, read a good action novel, or just putter about her room doing something small and random until she gets bored enough to stare out the window.

If she’s with a friend, things are totally different; she’ll make everything bright and happy inside, come up with a bunch of games to play, make something up, tell stories - And if she’s hiding out with Jaden you best be sure they’re either dueling, talking, messing around, or snoozing. XD

☂ : Storms or clear skies?

Clear skies, but she likes storms, too. They make her sleepy.

εжз : What about nature do they find calming? What about nature do they find disagreeable?

Thunderstorms are soothing to her and make her sleepy, but really strong storms are a no go. She likes the sea, too, and rives; anywhere she can listen to the water flow, and anything she can climb. She’s also pretty against raging rivers (Less listening to water, more ‘Don’t touch that it’ll sweep you away’ worries), really overgrown, bug-infested areas, and crickets. Especially in the summer, when they’re at their loudest.

☎ : List three or more people they would call out for during an emergency.

Jaden, her parents, Chazz. Neku and her parents in her TWEWY verse. SHe’s… Really got nobody else.

☛ : What is their typical response to being given orders?

Another depends, who’s giving them to her? In the case of a hated teacher *coughCrowlercough* she’s more likely to snark right back and turn into the most prickly of porcupines. If it’s a teacher likes/is neutral towards, then it really depends on the order, where she’ll huff and puff over something like “Scrub the corm from top to bottom” but willingly accept anything less.. Huge. If the order is coming from a friend, or Jaden late in their academy days, she’s more prone to listen and weigh her options before replying, but it still depends then on the order itself - Unreasonable gets a less snarky and prickly comeback, but she’ll still argue, otherwise she’ll just take it.

☢ : Describe a thought or dream that would cause them to have a mental meltdown.

A dream would be coming back home to find her parents gone without a trace, or, god forbid, dead for whatever reason (natural causes or not). A frequent nightmare in her last year at the academy is losing Jay to his darkness and being unable to convince him to break free of it, and always has her waking up in a frantic panic and looking for him, so she can make sure he’s still there and himself.

As for thoughts, thinking of failing her finals at the end of the year can make her crack fairly hard (she so doesn’t want to be held back XD), and losing her friends for whatever reason will shatter her. And if you tell her her family’s in trouble back home.. Nope. You’ve lost her.

✄ : Are there any reasons why they would ever think of self-harm? If so, what are they?

No. She’d never harm herself. The closest thing she’s ever gotten to a thought like that is being willing to sacrifice her everything to keep Jaden safe.

❤ : Describe a physical action that shows complete trust.

Snuggling up to someone. Aoi is fairly affectionate to begin with with her friends, and walking around with her hugging your arm or hip-bumping a friend is pretty normal. But with the people she trusts completely, with everything in her, she’s the most affectionate and will snuggle up to them, be them male or female, leaning against them and allowing them to do as they please to her. Her guard is dropped completely. In Jaden’s case, she’ll even lay on him, sleep on his shoulder, what have you - She’s showing herself, allowing them to see her completely unguarded.

❥ : Describe a verbal way they would express complete trust.

By saying it, for one, but she also starts divulging secrets. Crushes, things about her family, childhood memories - all things she wouldn’t just tell anyone. She’ll even relax with them and can go from bubbly, bright, and perky, to more calm and sweet, and right back.

✗ : Explain how they portray feelings of hostility or dislike.

This is a fairly common thing for her to show, actually. Depending on the level of hostility and dislike, she can go from just being a snarky, prickly porcupine who can be highly sarcastic and snappy and do everything you tell her not to do, to flat out wanting to punch you in the face and actually trying to. The worst she’s been is in her Darurura!! verse, where she actively tries to smash Izaya’s face into a cinderblock at every given opportunity.

⊗ : What is something that causes them to question themself?

Being questioned herself, for one. If you seriously question her and her morals/ideals/anything with some real conviction behind it, she might snark at you… But after a few minutes she’ll start to really question herself, and put some real thought into it.

For another thing, having things brought up in an argument she’s losing. Jaden after the events with Yubel snapping at her and arguing over her staying beside him will inevitebly make her stop and think and question herself. She’s gonna stand by him anyway though.

☾ : On a sleepless night, what would they be found doing?

If rolling around and huffing at the wall isn’t helping, she’ll usually try to do something to distract herself. This generally amounts to checking messages on her PDA, reading, flipping through her deck, thinking up new strategies- I she’s not already in his room, she’ll go to Jaden and see if he’s having trouble sleeping, too (he’s usually out cold XD) and curl up beside him. If that STILL doesn’t work, she’ll stick her head under a pillow and whine.

☤ : Is there anything about their health they are continuously on edge about? Something they disregard?

She’s alergic to papaya, and while she normally wouldn’t give much thought to it, the academy is on a practically tropical island. Papaya can sneak in to just about anything, so she’s always on alert for it. Otherwise, she’s only prone to sneezing fits when there’s a lot of pollen, but she’s not really alergic to it, just sensitive.

✓ : Name at least two people who can trust them with their life.

Jaden and Chazz. Chazz might not admit it (nor would she admit it for him, really), but their friendship is close enough that she’d go to bat for him without hesitation, and he knows it.

❣: Describe a way that will earn affection (whether platonic or romantic) from them.

Be there for her. Be friendly with her. Be kind. Help her with things. Let her get close to you on her own time (Or just be Jaden) and she’ll end up as an affectionate and bubbly friend. If you’re looking for romantic affection, again just be Jaden then don’t push away her platonic affections and let her see who you really are. Let her in and let her see who you are at your core. Trust her.

✖ : Describe a way to make them uneasy or apprehensive.

Be a male. XD No seriously- Aside from Jaden and Chazz, Aoi does not do well with men in general. They make her flustered and uneasy, and she won’t let them physically close to her. Also coming at her with a wicked grin, acting like you’re going to hurt her or her friends, actually hurt her friends, insult/taunt/tease (in ways that really AREN’T friendly jabs) her, or just generally be a jerk and come at her in the most unfriendly way possible. She’s bound to slap you senseless.

♆ : Are they prone to violent outbursts or thoughts?

Not unless you really push her buttons. Izaya in her Darurura!! verse is a special case; he’s always trying to push her into snapping, worming his way into her head and under her skin until all she wants to do is make him shut up… And if that involves hitting him in the face with a cinderblock then so be it. Otherwise, she’s pretty good at keeping this at a snarky teen level - but she will push your buttons HARD in return.

✏ : What are their creative outlets?

Dueling, doodling, coming up with games to play with her friends, harmless pranks on people…

✉ : Do they tend to rely on words or actions more?

Both. When you can’t make a move, a word can mean a lot, and usually she can react based on the emotion and tone put into it, given the situation and person speaking (”I hate you” from Chazz in the middle of a tag duel is going to be taken as encouragement and reminding her to play better, even if he snaps it, because she knows him too well). But when words are useless, actions certainly speak louder than them.

♡ : Is there a certain scent that brings about nostalgia? If so, describe a memory this scent brings back.

The smell of sawdust. When she was a kid, her father would mess around with woodcarving and woodworking, and she’d often sneak in to watch him. He’d show her things and sit her on his lap while he carved, but by the time she was 8, had to give it up when work and life got too demanding. The mere smell of sawdust makes her remember sitting on his lap and watching him work a bit of wood into some kind of figure, and she misses those days.

۞: Are there any inner demons they can never seem to get rid of? What are they?

She has one that tells her rather often “You’re useless” and usually rears its head around exam time. No matter what she does, she’s not at her best because of it. Her ‘Slifer Slacker’ mentality surprisingly has nothing to do with this, though - she’s just a dork who hates homework. XD

#kiibx #Aoi headcanons #XD I did say I'd hate myself for this and I do XD Slightly~#But I do enjoy fleshing out my muses more and I LOVE doing memes owo #Though I'm noticing just how major of a verse Aoi's GX verse is now XD

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