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joyfulhopelox · 4 years ago

Text

Red Gardenia

Pairing: Park Jimin x reader (non-idol!au, ballet!au)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 7k (she the biggest one yet)

rating: pg

Summary: As a minor ballet dancer in the corps du ballet, suddenly thrown into the limelight you are struggling to cope with the pressure, but when a secret admirer with a love for gardenias comes forth you realise that you may actually be able to do it

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

I want to throw the massivest thank you to my beta the amazing and talented @rosietae she's been the rock that supported this foundation and prevented it from crumbling. I had 2 breakdowns and a couple of identity crises when I wrote this one and her help has been a major pick me up. She made this from a withering bud into a fully bloomed flower and I can't express my thanks to her enough!

This is part 2 of my Love Blossom series and the 3/25 square for the @bangtanwritingbingo event (square: Park Jimin)

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

Entrée

A grand pas de deux usually begins with an entrée (literally "entrance"), which serves as a short prelude to and also unequivocally denotes the beginning of the dance suite.

You could do this, you could do this. You could definitely do this. The mantra had been in your head for the past few days. You’d hoped that the psychology articles about daily affirmations you read would work, but it proved to be more difficult than you thought.

Instead you felt like you wasted 10 minutes of your practice time, to stupidly look at yourself in the mirror. For those 10 minutes you kept telling yourself that you were able to dance as the main act in the show your ballet school had signed you up for. Maybe you were not doing it right; probably because you disconnected from those positive affirmations very often. So indeed, those 10 minutes were a waste of time.

Your mouth would say ‘you can do it’ but your brain would instantly doubt you, doubt your skills. You were always a dancer in the background and no one ever complimented your dancing more than necessary. How could you believe in yourself when, for years that’s all that it had been? Was all that doubt supposed to disappear just because all of a sudden you were called by your ballet master informing you of the big role change? You had been specifically picked to dance with one of the most prominent ballet dancers that your school had produced: none other than Park Jimin himself.

Everyone knew of him. He travelled abroad multiple times to be the star of a lot of performances. From New York, to Moscow, to Hong Kong, everyone had seen him in at least one performance. This, as well as the fact that you were a couple of years his junior, and in the corps du ballet instead of a soloist, had made it impossible for you to catch more than a glimpse of him around the school. But of course you had heard of him and his stellar performance. Everyone in your school had, but very few actually had the chance to interact with him. He seemed to have a small group of friends that he mostly spent his time with, but no one else seemed to have gotten the chance to get close to him, which instantly made him a snob in your eyes. He probably had the personality of Narcissus himself. Always so high up his own, it made it difficult for him to get the reality check from the people down below. No matter how much your friends berated you for thinking this way, you were certain you were right.

So imagine your surprise when you were told you had been picked for a pas de deux and he was to be your partner. Surprised was a very mild word for how you really felt. Astonished, perplexed? Those two seemed more appropriate. Not only had you been picked to perform on the stage outside of your usual group but you had the famous wonder boy Jimin as your partner.

For the first few days your friends would only see and hear your excited smile and squeals. You had been waiting so long for this opportunity to come by and now you finally had the chance to prove yourself. No one even threw a second glance at the dancers in the corps du ballet. As a group, you were all there to tie in the loose ends that the soloists and main dancers could not. You were the background of a painting. Without it, the painting was incomplete, but no one observed it in detail. It was not as if you were thinking ill of your fellow dancers, but you had promised yourself and your parents when you chose ballet as your profession that you would make it big. You would stand on that stage and perform as a soloist, in the light, the piece de resistance. And so you worked hard to be noticed. Asking extra questions during lessons, making sure you did the movements perfectly. Staying after hours in the abandoned studio to practice until your feet hurt and bled,having to ice your muscles every night, going home late and heading back out early, the tears, the criticism. It didn’t matter to you. You had a dream. And now, all that hard work seemed to pay off. You would be there on that stage in the limelight.

Soon enough though, reality set in after the second meeting you had with the ballet master. You realised the pressure of not only having to be a main performer, but also standing on the stage with the pride of your school. Your demeanor instantly changed. Instead of exaltation, you were filled with dread and anxiety.

Heading to your locker,you grabbed your gym bag, ready for another hour of basic ballet techniques before you met up with your friends.

“Hey, Y/N, the artistic director is looking for you” they motioned to the general direction of where the offices were.

“After class?” you inquired and they nodded at you.

You gulp, what if they are going to pull you away from the show? You don’t let that thought fester in your head for too long because a red flower taped to your locker caught your attention.

“Oooooh, I see they’re at it again” your friend teased, lightly nudging you with their elbow. You smiled softly to yourself and gently peeled off the tape.

A red gardenia, secret love. Whoever had been harbouring these feelings for you, had been doing it for almost 3 months. They had yet to confess their feelings to you. At the beginning you thought it was a scam and scoffed at the flower, throwing it away whilst telling your friends your opinion of ‘poor jokes like these’. A few weeks after that the flowers kept coming in. You finally accepted that it was not a prank, and someone was expressing their genuine admiration and love for you, when one day along with the gardenia a note waited for your attention.

‘Please accept my feelings’ that was it, no name and no indication of who it may be. But it did make you realise that this person was real, and you instantly felt ashamed of the flowers that you had thrown away until then. Had they noticed you doing that? You hoped not. If they had come out and admitted who they were, you would’ve apologised to their face about your insensitivity.

Without responding to your friend’s playful teasing, you gently put the flower behind your ear and turned around. “Let’s get going, or we’ll be late.”

Unbeknownst to you, a couple of lockers down, a boy with hair the colour of sand smiled fondly to himself, watching your form retreat.

Adagio 1

The adagio or adage (meaning "slowly") part of a grand pas de deux features graceful and elaborate partnering by the dancing pair. In the adagio, the ballerina performs elegant, often slow and sustained movements while the danseur supports her.

“Y/N, thank you for coming to see me before class” your ballet master said, motioning for you to take a seat. “Now, I have told you about the performance, but seeing as things are settling and the performance schedule of Swan Lake will be ending soon, I need to update you on yours.” All you could do was sit in silence and nod once in a while, trying to not look like an excited mess and potentially ruin your chances. After all, a ballerina had to have poise and grace, and if you ruined that image, the role could have been handed over to someone else easily.

Shuffling some papers on her desk, she fished a thick folder out of them and stuck it out for you to take.

“Is this the full schedule for the performance?” your voice wavered, seeing the enormity of the folder reminded you of the enormity of the situation. You were about to perform as a main dancer. No more the quiet mouse dancing in the back or the even worse placement of being a backup for a performance.

“Ah, no dear, this is just the contract. As you know, you will be working with our school’s pride, Park Jimin.” You tried your hardest to keep a neutral face and not scoff at that. Of course the teacher would be shoving Park Jimin’s greatness into your face. “And because he is an international dancer, we cannot afford to have him exposed to any potential issues that may arise if anything were to happen.” Her tight lipped smile stopped you from inquiring what she thought may go wrong, so instead you resigned with a nod of your head. Your friends would listen to your rant later, there was no need to explode in your teacher’s office.

After that encounter, which ended up with you not only being insulted as a ‘minor’ figure in the school as opposed to the illustrious Jimin, but also having to lug a contract as big as a dictionary.

“Who needs a contract as big as this? Who does he think he is? International star my foot” you huffed as you struggled to carry the said atrocity and your gym bag down the hall. “I mean, international dancer but also how much trouble does he get into to need so much coverage for his ass? I get it, his ass is big enough to need a hefty contract….!”

Your friends, who’d tried to warn you beforehand of the situation you ended up up stumbling in, gasped. You were not paying attention to where you were headed and oh so ungracefully smacked your head into someone’s shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry” not looking up, you bent down to pick the gym bag that fell off your shoulder on impact.

“It’s ok” a soft voice responded and you swear you can hear angels sing in your ear. You quickly glanced up, the gym bag long forgotten by now. You wanted to put a face to the melodious voice. And so the dream ended and the angel choir broke up. No longer apologetic, your face instantly dropped. It did not matter you have never interacted with him before and that for a first time meeting you were being incredibly rude. Not when the voice belonged to the one and only aforementioned Park Jimin.

“Oh, it’s you”

Smiling brightly at you he nodded, “it is me”.

His soft and plush features were enough to intimidate you. Not that he looked fierce, not by a long shot. It was the opposite, he looked so innocent it almost made you regret ever thinking he was a stuck up brat. Round cheeks, plump lips and eyes that reflected his bright smile, he looked handsome. His sand coloured hair and the blue contacts made him look princely handsome. And you hated it. “Are you Y/N by any chance?” you pondered whether or not you should have responded to him, but your friends made that decision for you before you could utter a word.

“Yes she is” they nudged you to say something. You shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.

“Yes, hi….” you trailed off. You were not close enough for you to be calling him by his name before he even got the chance to introduce himself properly to you. “Jimin” he filled you in, offering you his hand to shake. Having little faith in you and your ability to be polite, your friends nudged you again in a silent warning to not push his hand away. You had to admit the thought had crossed your mind for a couple of seconds, but your parents had not raised you that way. Glaring at the offered hand, you grabbed it in a firm shake.

Jimin faltered a bit, your intense grimace making him think he was an inconvenience. “Well, uh, nice to meet you” you glanced at him, catching the shy look he was giving you before letting go of your hand and stepping aside. “I will not keep you any longer, I will see you later” He hurriedly retreated to his friends, who were on the side waiting for him. You observed the scene silently for a few seconds whilst chewing on your bottom lip. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you made him out to be. But when two of his friends laughed and patted his back in a congratulatory way, you instantly changed your mind.

Variation-Him

Upon completion of the adagio, the dancers separate and each dancer, in turn, takes center stage and performs a variation (1)

To say you had stopped thinking about the pretentious Park Jimin and the encounter you had would be a total lie. How could you, when you were meant to start practicing for your duet in a few days?

Not only that, but from someone who you’d barely see around the school, he turned into someone who would not leave your eyesight. Not by choice, though you would admit sometimes you would seek his form after hearing his laughter nearby. In your defence, he had a very light and airy voice, one that was instantly recognisable and so your traitorous eyes would be drawn to the sound.

Moreover, the way you treated him at the time, as well as the knowledge that you would be performing a pas de deux together, made it impossible for your peers not to gossip. And so, your name and his were strung together and uttered by everyone that would pass by you.

“It is becoming kind of annoying now,” you muttered angrily to your friends. They had tried their best to keep you level headed during the period but they were finding it more and more difficult to try to reason with you.

“Look Y/N, you are getting to perform on stage, with a great dancer” your friend raised their hand up and covered your mouth with it when you instantly tried to protest. “Nuh-uh, as much as you have a personal vendetta against him, you have to admit he is a great performer. This school does not pick talentless people'' you sighed, they were right. He was a good performer, but you were not ready to admit that yet. Not when that would have given him more rights to be prideful about it. Pushing your friends’ hand away, you whined, “He may be a great dancer, but that puts even more pressure on me to be good, otherwise any chance I may have had at a career as a main performer is gone!”

“Hey, you will be just fine! You got picked for a reason!” your friend tried to encourage you but you could only smile sadly at them, finding it hard to believe it. “Plus, your admirer seems to think so too” your friend smiled smugly at you.

Rolling your eyes at them you scoffed, “what, am I supposed to believe the words of someone who can’t even come out clean with who they are? All I know is that they could be someone who has no clue what they are talking about. I mean, they are confessing their love for me. I wouldn’t call that good taste.”

“Maybe you should,” the voice you had come to know very well over the past few weeks spoke from behind you. Confusedly, you turn around “huh?” did he happen to know something about it? Could it be him? Giving you a once over, Jimin cleared his throat. “Maybe you should, you know, hurry up. Our first practice starts in less than 10 minutes. Don’t know about you, but I would like to warm up before anything” his soft smile faltered when you glared at him. You couldn’t help it, spending so much time hating a made up version of him in your head made it impossible for you to warm up to the real version. And his last comment did grate your nerves, was he implying that you weren’t able to manage your time effectively?

You didn’t miss the slight hurt in his eyes as he passed by you, and against your better judgement your heart twinged. Saying a quick goodbye to your friends, you rushed down the corridor to catch up to him.

“Hey, Jimin” he didn’t stop. Not because he couldn’t hear you, but because the slightly panicked look on his face was not something he wanted you to witness. He had almost given himself away, but he couldn’t stand hearing you talk about his admiration and yourself in that way anymore. He tried to play it off as reminding you of the time, but then you gave him that look, a look that told him you really did not want anything to do with him. At that thought, he felt his heart drop to his stomach faster than he could say pas de chat.

“Jimin wait” he did not want to wait, but he listened to you. Why? Because even if you seemed to hate him with a passion, he would do anything for you.

You thought you had not met before, and in a way Jimin supposed you hadn’t. Not in person at least. But he was there when you had your performance for the entrance exam. To say he was entranced from the very beginning was an understatement. His eyes didn’t leave your form. Every pirouette, every arabesque, glissade, plie... you moved like silk in the wind: smooth, seamless, weightless. When your performance was finished, his heart felt weightless and completely enamoured.

He tried to talk to you after, but you disappeared as quickly as you had done your jete. All he was left with was your name from the application form and the hope that you would succeed in entering so he could see you again.

Bringing himself back to the present, he didn’t turn to face you, and you could not bring yourself to apologise, as the words got stuck in your throat. Instead, you walked a few steps ahead of him and stopped. Doing a silly turn on pointe you gave him an unsure smile, “you coming?”

Variation-Her

In general, the variations are intended to showcase spectacular, acrobatic leaps and turns, as well as the skills and athleticism of the individual dancers.

“Now, Y/N, what did I tell you? This has to be all allegro! Quick, quick, quick!” Your director clapped his hands as if to make a point of what quick meant. You nodded, your breath coming out in heavy pants. Having been practicing all the brisees and pas de chat for a good four hours, you were already tired. Your limbs felt like they were made of lead and your breath came out in shallow rasps.

“Once more” You bit your lip as you tried not to glare at them. You barely got a break and it was just the first week. You had a lot more weeks to perfect it. Indeed, it was not perfect and your insistence on not being closer to Jimin during the partnered moves made it even more awkward. The dance was just not flowing as it should have. Flower Festival in Genzano was a classical pas de deux performance, with rapt moves expressing the happiness and flirtation between two young lovers.

Yours portrayed more of a tragedy between two lovers than the blossoming of love between them. Your movements were adagio instead of alegro, and the swiftness of the intended movements were rough and unsure. Frustrated couldn’t even begin to explain how you were feeling.

Jimin, had yet to utter a word during this time , and in a way you were grateful. You didn’t think you could stand it if he’d opened his mouth to boast about his skills. His moves were graceful, quick, resembling a lark hopping through the grass. He had a lightness of movement that made you realise why he was called the wonder boy of the school. Looking as if he was as light as a feather, he breezed through his variation with ease.

“Y/N, come on, up up up!” the director clapped their hands impatiently. “Your variation from the beginning” gesturing you to get off the floor they restarted the musical accompaniment. Huffing in distress you quickly got on your feet, a sharp pain shooting up your calf. Grimacing you tried to get into position, but with the music being way ahead of your start you fumbled around to get into the right position. It only took a wrong turn of your ankle during a quicker brise for your whole leg to cramp causing you to fall into a heap on the floor.

“What are you doing? Up! From the beginning, you can’t be lazing around. Look at Jimin, he’s done his perfectly. You can’t be sullying his name like this.” Trying your hardest to hide the tears of pain and humiliation out of your eyes, you slowly got on your knees in an attempt to get off the floor.

“Uhm, maybe it would be better if we took a small break?” for the first time since you’ve started Jimin spoke up. Shooting him a stubborn scowl you pushed yourself up with great effort. Stumbling a bit from the pain in your leg you refused to give up. “No, I can do this”

“Y/N, look at you” he slowly approached you as if you were going to strike like an injured animal. And maybe that is how he viewed you. Weak and easily hurt by your lack of talent and professionalism. Before you could retort, the artistic director abruptly stopped the music.

“Yes, Y/N, look at you. You’re stiff and uncoordinated. You’re making the proverbial bull in a chinashop look like a ballerina. How can I let you perform next to Jimin? He’s an international star and he has a reputation to maintain. You’re doing your best to sully that” hurtful tears started pooling in your eyes. Maybe you should just withdraw now. Clearly, no one thought you were good enough. As if to confirm your unspoken thoughts, they carried on, “you were not my first choice by any chance. But you were asked for, specifically, so I had to comply. Please don’t treat this like you do with the corps du ballet.”

You tried your best to reign in your tears, you could not expose your feelings like that. One wrong move and they could’ve removed you from the performance.

“Sir, I think it is best we stop here for the day” Jimin suggested. Who was he to ask for such a thing? How dare he ask the artistic director to stop for the day, as if they would listen to him. “I, uh, forgot i have another meeting in half an hour and it’s best if I don’t miss it” you glanced at the two, a heavy feeling settling into your stomach when you observed the change in the director’s demeanour. Grovelling, he assured Jimin that you’d stop there for the day, flourishing his respect and admiration for how hardworking he was. With a last disappointed glance at you and a scoff, they exited the studio.

It was just you and Jimin left, the silence deafening. Pretending to be busy with tying your pointe shoes, you refused to glance at him. You felt disgraced and belittled. Even though you were aware that Jimin had said nothing against you or your performance, you couldn’t help but channel all your hurt into your behaviour towards him.

“You ok? You should go get that checked” finally gathering the courage to address you, Jimin crouched down to have a look at your leg. You retracted it instantly before his hand could touch you.

“I’m fine, don’t be late for your meeting” you snapped at him.

He observed you in silence for a few moments, and you didn’t know if it was the look on his face which screamed pity to you, his concern for your wellbeing, or the humiliation that you have faced because of him, but your anger levels increased exponentially.

“Look, you don’t need to pity me, I’m fine, just go and show the world your greatness and stop bothering with the likes of me” you huffed. “I’m clearly not good enough and need to improve” your voice softened. You knew you were angry at yourself and not at him. He’d been nothing but kind to you from the first moment you have spoken. Maybe that was why you were taking it all out on him. He was always close to perfect. And it irked you.

“I’m not pitying you. In fact, I admire you a lot.” His confession made you snap out of your thoughts and look at him in disbelief. His cheeks were tinted red and you couldn’t help but think of how cute he looked when he was bashful like that.

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered. “Why would you mean that?”

The silence that ensued, along with the uncertain look on his face, made you think that he would finally admit his joke and tell you that he didn’t mean it. He was him, and you were you. The thought made your heart ache.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he finally asked, and you were once again taken aback, not expecting the change in subject.

“I— don’t. You irritate me, but I don’t hate you,” at your words his expression instantly changed to confusion and a slither of hurt flashed across his face. You hurried to explain yourself, “look you are perfect, everyone clearly loves you, you are nice and everyone flocks around you like bees to honey. And it annoys me. But that is my shortcoming, and not your fault so forget I said that” you sat up quickly, the pain in your leg making it difficult. But a warm hand grabbed your forearm. You wanted to shake it off since you did not want his help, but the heat and support it provided was exactly what you needed. And in that moment you realised that, just like everyone else, you had fallen for him and his charms. He was definitely not what you wanted. What you wanted was to be able to perform to the best of your abilities, to stand on that stage proudly next to him. But what you actually needed was him, his soft words, and his sweet gestures that somehow managed to lift you up and nurse your pride, if only by a bit.

With that realisation, fear and determination gripped your heart. “You should go to your meeting” you nod towards the door. “I’ll be fine” seeing that he was prepared to protest, you added quietly, “please, I would like to be alone right now.”

With a heavy heart, Jimin let go of your arm and retracted slowly. Your words hurt, but they also gave him hope that he may actually stand a chance at becoming your rock. And for now that was all he wanted from you.

“Please rest and get that checked” He said, before he turned around and looked at you wistfully one last time, “I don’t really have a meeting to go to, but i will leave if you want me to”

His exit was swift and graceful, but his heart was heavy and uncertain. How could he make it better for you? How could he convince you to trust in your skills more? Suddenly, he got an idea and he prayed that it would work. It was a shot in the dark, but it was the only one he had.

Adagio 2

A few days after that, you were by your locker once again, with a red gardenia in your hands. With a letter grasped between your fingers, you decided you would read it later as you saw your partner approaching. You hadn’t practiced together since that day, left on your own with the artistic director to practice your variation. The first time you entered the studio and realised that Jimin would not be joining you had made you nervous.

As much as you’d tried to ignore it, it strengthened the realisation that you did need him. In such a short amount of time, he made it so that you saw him as comfort and protection. His soft demeanour and worried glances melted your resolve to loathe him. You were ready to admit you were wrong about him, but you did not get the chance to until now.

Approaching you, he smiled unsurely. You looked a lot better and a lot more rested. He only hoped that having a separate chat with the artistic director gave you a small break in his absence. Sparing a short glance at the flower and letter in your hand he tried his best to hide his smile. Instead he motioned to it as nonchalantly as he could, “Secret admirer?”

With the flower in your hand, forgotten at the sight of him, you quickly rushed to hide it behind your back. “Uhm, none of your business” your cheeks were dusted in pink, making him smile at you fully, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “You ready for today? We’re practicing the duet together”

“Ah, so you will be part of this one then?” You tried to make it seem like you didn’t care as to where he had disappeared in the last few days as you subtly prodded him for more information. Quickly catching onto your scheme, he smirked.

“Did you miss me?”

You scoffed, “Not by a long shot wonder boy. Let's go or we’ll be late, don’t know about you but I would like to warm up first” You turned around and started walking away from him, completely missing the lovestruck Jimin you left in your wake.

“Huh” he whispered to himself. You'd rendered him speechless once again.

Hours of practice later, everything went down better than the first time you’d worked together, as you had all the movements down to a ‘T’. Unfortunately, you were so focused on getting the technicalities right that you forgot about the freedom of the movement that went with the dance. You were stiff once again, and lacked the passion that the female lead should portray.

“No, no, no, Y/N. Once more from the top” the artistic director shooks their head in disapproval. You could feel frustration bubbling up threatening to spill in the form of tears once again. Before that could happen, Jimin instantly called for a small break, under the excuse that he needed to readjust his pointe shoes. He motioned for you to sit down next to him, and you shakily and reluctantly took a seat next to him on the floor. You couldn’t even look at him, let alone address him. Once again doubt started creeping in your thoughts.

“You need to relax more. Feel the steps, don’t think the steps” he whispered to you. Without giving you a chance to respond, he quickly got up and the artistic director immediately rushed to start the music again. You had no choice but to get into position, his words still swimming inside your mind. Feel the steps.

You tried, you swore you did. But somehow, it wasn’t working. By the time it got to the adagio, which was less slow and more of a petite allegro, with smaller and quicker movements, you were ready to give up. You felt as though you were made of wood. When it came to the partnered planche, all you did was stiffly raise your left leg to the back with your arms behind you, waiting for Jimin to grab them.

Improvising, he gripped you from the waist to support your planche, instead of grabbing just your hands from behind your back. He brought himself as close to you as he could, his warmth enveloping all of your senses. Luckily this planche was on flat— your foot planted firmly on the ground, rather than on pointe—otherwise you would’ve lost your footing and toppled over on the floor. He smelled good. Funnily enough, he smelled like gardenias in the warmth of the sun. For a second you couldn’t breathe, forgetting entirely where you were. All you could focus on was his gentle grip on your waist and his breath in your ear as he whispered, “focus on me”

As if he’d muttered a magic word, your guard fell down. All your insecurities melted away at his touch. Your brain was filled with the thought of him and as soon as you came down to pirouette in his arms, he was all you could see. Today he wasn’t wearing contacts, offering you an unobstructed view into his chocolate coloured eyes. His smile was soft and encouraging and his hands around you were strong and supportive. He was silently attempting to tell you that he had you, that you could trust him. There was something else hidden there deep in his eyes, however. As you stared at him for a second longer, trying to decipher what it was, something in you shifted. But the next move didn’t wait for either of you, so you quickly moved away from his arms and into the next position.

This time though, things were different. You feltl it in your movements. The uncertainty and stiffness was long gone. You both moved as one, even with your individual variations, you both came back together as if an unknown string was connecting the two of you.

As the end of the last note on the track rang out into the studio, so did the dream of two young lovers. Both you and Jimin finished returning to the first position in tandem, as if you were one. The two of you panted for different reasons. You, from the effort and the thrill of the closeness that you’ve both experienced. Him from performing without breathing, as his heart threatened to burst at having you so close to him. The performance gave him a snippet of what it would be like for him to be your real lover. And it was intoxicating.

The satisfied smile that the director gave you told you that you’d done it. You finally let go, and it was all thanks to Jimin. Excitedly, you turned your head to beam at him. The admiration in his eyes caused warmth to pool in your stomach. You finally saw the invisible string that tied you both together during the duet. It was affection.

Coda

A Coda is a classical ballet term that refers to the finale of a group of dancers and more often, the finale of a pas de deux.

No one spoke of what had transpired between you and Jimin that day. Completely ignoring your admittance, as well as his confession, you tried your best to act professionally. Practicing both together and apart made the days blend together. In that time you attempted to ignore the feelings that were threatening your performance (and your sanity). There was no time for any of that. You had a dream and this was your only chance to grasp it.

For weeks on end, all you did was practice, completely missing out on sleep and any social activities that your friends partook in. You avoided any social interaction that stepped over the small ‘Talk’ line. And you most definitely avoided your partner outside of your practice sessions. Whenever you would see him come from the opposite end of the corridor, you would quickly turn around and pretend you were looking for something in your gym bag. Sometimes, if you were lucky enough, you’d quickly veer to go towards the toilets. You made sure that there was no chance for the two of you to speak outside of the performance, afraid that you would blurt something out that you’d have rather kept to yourself.

The only interaction you had, if you could call it that, was with your secret admirer. And by interaction, you meant smiling at the flower he’d tape to your locker. Oddly though, for the past few weeks they would leave little notes taped next to the flower. From encouraging messages such as ‘You can do it’ to longer ones that spoke highly of your performances and your capability as a dancer. They were never consistent in length or content, but were always signed off the same way: ‘Forever yours, your secret admirer’

Weeks had passed, and with each day your confidence grew alongside your feelings for your partner. Even with little verbal interaction between the two of you, you were dancers. You did not need words to convey messages, and you certainly didn’t need words to convey feelings. Each time you would reach the finale of the dance you were breathless and dazed, craving for more.

More had to wait though. This was it, the first day of the show. You were nervous to say the least, but having worked so hard, day and night, and with the knowledge that no matter what Jimin was there to support you, you were as ready as you’d ever be.

Thinking about it, from someone you thought was a narcissist to someone you’d viewed as a rock, Jimin had managed to ground you and lift you up at the same time. You’d fallen so hard and fast for him, that you didn't even know what hit you. However, at the thought that there was still a secret admirer that had silently cheered you on, and the fact that Jimin was still a more professional dancer than you were, he probably made each one of his partners fall for him quickly. That was enough to dampen the fire in your heart. You would carry on with this performance and prove yourself to everyone. Prove that you deserved a spot on that stage as a main dancer. Show everyone that you deserved the spot standing next to Jimin, even if it was only as his dance partner.

“Hey, Y/N” your friends greeted as you were putting on the make up for the performance. “Are you nervous?” One of them asked as they all crowded around you.

Laughing, another one of your friends responded, “why would she? I bet she’s smug, now that she’s been favoured by the top star of our school. She clearly caught his eye from the beginning if she’s been personally requested by him” your friends' words left you confused, so you turned around to face them.

“What do you mean?”

They looked at each other warily. “You mean you haven’t heard?” They asked you and you shook your head, left even more confused. “The other day someone heard the artistic director discussing how they didn’t think that you’d pull through, but you did and that Jimin was correct in requesting you as his partner for the performance. Apparently…” they would have said more if not for the appearance of said man at your door. Quickly they wished you good luck and exited the room leaving the two of you alone. He looked dashing in his white shirt and tights. The shirt was made of a silky material to allow freedom of movement and the top buttons were undone, exposing his defined collarbones and the white of his skin. It was tantalizing enough to make you swallow thickly.

However, the words of your friends still buzzed in your head, and you didn’t have the time to ask him if it was true. You were both hurried by your ballet master towards the entrance to the stage. It was time.

In the last few minutes before you were supposed to exit and show the world what both of you had worked for, you expected to be nervous, yet you felt strangely calm. Taking advantage of the stillness around you, you stole a glance to your right. Jimin looked tense, more tense than you had seen him before, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of the performance or because he suspected what you were about to ask him.

“Is it true?” You whispered, not holding back. You needed one last piece of information before the puzzle was complete. And you wanted him to freely offer you that piece.

His jaw muscles twitched, and you could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. The silence between you two was even more deafening. It was as if the dancers that pitter-pattered around you, or the people chatting in the audience, did not reach the bubble around the two of you. The string that connected the two of you before, was shortening in length until there were mere inches between you two.

“You made it up to this stage on your own” He whispered, “There is nothing else bringing you up here but yourself. You may think I’m irritating, but in reality, you hate me.” He prevented you from responding by grabbing your hand. His hands were warm, while yours were clammy. “You can’t say hateful things about yourself and claim that you don’t hate me. If you hate yourself, you hate me. If you belittle yourself, you belittle me. So please don’t do that anymore. If you care even a little…” He didn’t continue, he couldn’t. He was on the verge of tears. You could hear it in his voice.

What he implied didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you were more than ready to surrender. But you needed one more thing. “And the flowers?”

Instead of offering you a straight up response he raises his right hand, the one that was hidden from you until now.

You let out a short breath. The puzzle was complete. In his hand stood a lone red gardenia. His secret love.

Well, not so secret anymore.

“Do you trust me?” He asked with a smile.

Smiling back at him with all the love you could muster, you intertwined your fingers together.

“Yes, yes I do.”

Main Masterlist

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antiloreolympus · 3 years ago

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10 Anti LO Asks

1. Why is no one talking about one of the most stupid things we've seen in this webtoon thus far? I'm talking about the fact that H&P deadass pull a "I nominate Hades as an attorney to defend me in this case uwu" and the mf accepts (clearly the had it planned) although he is part of the jury.

Now, I don't have fast pass but I really hope this whole thing is forbidded by Zeus in the next episodes. It makes no fucking sense! Hades is not a lawyer, and as a god is not associated with law/justice (him being a king doesn't excuse this, he is there to "judge" not to defend the accused).

This really proves that absolutely nothing works against Persephone ever. She is able to get away with murder and have zero consequences for her actions, all while the smurf plays daddy with her, spoils her and defends her in court WHICH SHOULD NOT BE EVEN POSSIBLE LMAO.

From OP: It’s allowed because ‘loophole’.

2. I would like to add to what that person said about the characters looking too stiff. Literally that panel towards the end of ep. 179 where P said "I nominate Hades" is the best example of this. Wtf is wrong with her hand? It looks like a wooden doll with her arm extended like that. The only explanation I have for this (aside from the fact that the art style sucks big time) is that she's trying to imitate the art style on the ancient Greek amphoras (amphorae?), but even the scenes depicted on them had signs of natural movement, with the bodies looking much less stiff of course.

3. Anyone else wanna mention the backgrounds are also just not there at this point? Like she was already bad with this in the beginning but at least there was some sketch up lines to give the impression they were in a real space, but now it’s literally just blank voids of color and that’s it, and often not good use of color either (why is the above land pink while the underworld is blue? It makes it hard too tell what’s going on). There aren’t even establishing shots to at least give the readers an idea where they are and then becoming abstract about it, it’s all abstract and flat, which doesn’t help when the characters also are so lacking in character design and aren’t really doing anything pose or action wise. The world around them don’t even seem like actual places, it just seems like a set, and a very cheap one at that. It just ends up looking so boring in all fronts.

4. I don't know why it's only happening now but Persephone's eyebrows have started to piss me off lately. Why are they pure black? And when did they become so thick? It doesn't fit in with the rest of her fair and hairless appearance, it just looks like her brow artist did a piss poor job on them.

5. it honestly makes me sad looking at the first few lo episodes. were they perfect? god no, but at least the art was unique and had some actual thought put in it, but by around episode 25 or so you begin to notice the style is becoming less and less, until you have what it is now which is completely different, and not for the better. i know styles change and all, but this is a case where it got so much worse, losing its unique factor to look so generic and lacking instead. it make me sad.

6. Ive noticed LO fans dont seem to enjoy any other greek myth works, only LO. for example there's a huge overlap in PJO fans liking Hades Games and BoZ, and Hadestown fans towards TSOA, and so on and so on, meanwhile LO overwhelmingly don't even read other HxP stuff like Punderworld and openly hate stuff like PJO. They tend to only consume LO while claiming to be "big myth fans". It reminds me of Potterheads who claim to be big book nerds when they've really only read the series and nothing else.

7. its truly a testament to how bad the writing is from RS in that she honestly thought it was a dramatic twist apollo and artemis of all people were children to zeus, despite looking exactly like him and not like their mother. also, tbh, the fact hera humiliated leto and treats the twins like garbage, it is any wonder theyre being depicted so negatively in LO? theyre only used to prop up hades and p's "friendships" to eros and daphne. artemis is even the "bad" maiden. it's all so stupid.

8. the thing to me is no retelling of myths will be perfect, how could they be? but LO takes the cake at claiming its so researched and is the actual truth and is 99%+ correct (both from rachel's words as well as by her fans) with both refusing to even admit to any mistakes and refusing any critique, especially from greeks themselves, that's where the issue is to me. you cannot claim to be so well researched only to be upset when people notice the many obvious inaccuracies. that's not how it works.

9. there's a part of me that wonders why LO has never featured any MLM romances like poseidon, zeus, or apollo's many male lovers, but then i remembered she doesn't care about poseidon and both zeus & apollo are both evil to her, her made up WLW romances are terrible, and all relationships that cant be used to prop up hades and persephone are made cruel and abusive, so maybe that's a blessing in disguise that she's so bad at even remembering LGBTQ+ relationships, much less depicting them.

-----FP Spoiler/Mention-----

10. The whole trial thing just puts into perspective how much plot points go off the rails. I was actually looking forward to finally hearing from Demeter that Persephone IS a fertility goddess and them having a argument before the trial, but then it just left on a Clift hanger. And then oh wow Hades is being her lawyer, which??, pretty sure that’s not how that works but okay whatever he’s going against his brothers. But he doesn’t even make an opening statement because the other side does instead. And then Hermes shows up and his backstory starts and everything gets so muddled. I’m not an expert on court cases but seeing the witness be called up right after and the other side just make a bunch of shi up instead of stating a pathos but accurate opening statement hurts my brain. Not to mention the jury and people just speaking out at random? Like can Rachel just write something serious for once? Or at least somewhat accurate? Legally blonde had a better comedy court case scene than whatever this is.

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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thtdamfangirl4 · 4 years ago

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1.) Who eats all the snacks?

kind of all of them but something inside me is saying it’s octavius? @harps-for-days can you confirm or deny?

2.) Most likely to break something?

obviously Reginald

3.) Most likely to steal something?

Octavius

4.) Most likable character to others?

ooooh. that’s tough. I think (no offense) it’s definitely not Reginald or Dorian. Reginald is insane and Dorian can be scary. I think people kind of wish they were Octavius but he can also be a lil intimidating and jealousy plays a part so some petty bitches probably hate him. I think Jasper can be kind of quiet and standoffish at first so he doesn’t always leave a lasting impression until you have a full conversation with him, which is when people realize he’s great. I think people generally like Archie but he can be like A LOT, so I wouldn’t say him, but he is definitely well-liked, and unless you’re a PTA bitch named Jessica, he is desperate for you to like him. But for most likeable, I’s say it is probably down to Eustace or Nathaniel. Eustace is kind and lovely and a little snarky when you get to know him and Nathaniel is so sweet and sarcastic and funny but terribly genuine at the same time and let’s be perfectly honest: he’s a himbo. I’d give the edge to Nathaniel, but it’s possible that I’m biased.

5.) Least likable character to others?

my first instinct here was reginald but like... I don’t think so. I think though Reginald is strange as fuck, we’ve discussed that people eat that shit up. Reginald is like human Gritty. I want to guess that it would be Dorian because he just does not give a fuck what anyone thinks. And I know the people on the HOA hate him, so. And that’s not to say people don’t love Dorian, he’s the best and I love him and so do lots. But I feel like he causes the most beef. My only other thought is the way basic blonde bitches who were bullies in high school probably hate Octavius (but secretly want to be his best friend) because he wears heels and skirt better than they do. Stay mad about it.

6.) Most talkative character?

Archibald. Quincy. Pemberton.

7.). Least talkative character?

dude they’re based on us and literally none of us ever shut up. Maybe Dorian? Eustace?

8.) Most likely to set something on fire?

how is this even a question. Rabbit Boi himself, Reginald Worthington.

9.) Who would/does own the most pets?

I think it’s Nate and Archie? They have four dogs at one point. Though I would not be surprised to find out that Reginald has an entire condominium simply filled with exotic birds that squawk furiously at him every time he shows up.

10.) Most manipulative character?

oh god. Dorian? He technically manipulated everything and made the bois show up in 2020 to get out of marrying someone, and he’s the kind of guy who will do whatever it takes to get what he wants (read: he will do whatever it takes for Octavius or any of the bois or to spite bigots and the patriarchy) and we RESPECT it

11.) Most artistically talented?

i mean, archie can decorate baked goods and cakes so beautifully, but I’m gonna give this one to the obvious choice: Octavius Sinclair

12.) Which characters hate rain, and which love it?

I actually think all of them like rain? They’re largely (sometimes) depressed gays or otherwise very immature so like? For example, Reginald loves the rain because it’s sort of chaotic and also he likes to splash in puddles. Jasper likes the excuse to stay inside all day and work on writing or something. Eustace likes to pretend he’s in a sad music video while watching the droplets go down the window. Octavius likes to force Dorian to reenact the first proposal scene from Pride and Prejudice. Dorian likes to light candles and he loves thunderstorms (so does Octavius btw). Archie likes to drag Nate outside for kisses in the rain while playing Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift, and then bake all day. Nathaniel likes being dragged out for kisses in the rain and he loves drinking coffee and then switching to tea in the rain and reading on a window bench. They are all rain bitches, sorry not sorry.

13.) Which character is the hoarder?

Reginald is definitely the worst about this, but I also think Octavius cannot go to an antique store or estate sale without buying at least four things, and Dorian does the same thing with any sort of vintage weaponry or armor, so their household isn’t great about it either.

14.) Sweetest couple?

Natchie. No this isn’t bias, it’s just a fact okay? They are the sweetest!!!!

15.) Who loves reading the most?

Nathaniel. fuckin nerd.

16.) Who has the worst sweet tooth?

Archie. I mean, the man is a baker and he’s also me. So.

17.) Best and worst kissers?

LMAOOOOO okay.... so here’s the thing. I think kissing and level of skill comes into play to a certain degree, but past a basic level of acceptability, it’s mostly about compatibility? but I’ll give this a go in terms of what I think would be pure skill

from worst to best: Jasper, Reginald, Eustace, Octavius, Nathaniel, Archie, Dorian (once you get to Octavius, you’re at a fairly elite level of kisser though so the differences are marginal. but Dorian and Archie are the biggest hoes so they know what the fuck they are doing)

18.) Best and worst cooks?

from worst to best: Dorian, Reginald, Jasper, Nathaniel, Eustace, Octavius, Archie

19.) Who is afraid of the dark?

Jasper

20.) Most likely to fall asleep on their job?

I honestly only remember what Nathaniel, Archie, and Eustace’s jobs are for sure? and it’s none of them. But Reginald. MAYBE Jasper.

21.) Most commonly found drunk?

Octavius and Archie (often together)

22.) Strongest/most powerful character?

well, Dorian’s got some witchy stuff goin on which I love, but if we’re talking physical strength I like to think that Nathaniel is secretly jacked like Chidi on the Good Place lmao

23.) Most likely to be found in a coffee shop?

Nathaniel. This bitch drinks so much coffee, I swear. Plus he likes to grade papers there sometimes.

24.) Most clumsy character?

Jasper

25.) Most trustworthy character?

again, this is hard. I think it’s either Eustace or Archie. I think they’re all very trustworthy on like a friend level, but if you break it down to its base and you think about the most trustworthy in every situation, i’m thinking, who can you tell a secret to? Reginald might forget what you told him, which is a plus, but he also might tell any Doug who asks your juiciest gossip. Dorian and Octavius are not above blackmail and they LOVE gossip. Jasper is such a bad secret keeper, you immediately know he’s hiding something. It’s like Nick Miller on New Girl. Don’t do it. Nathaniel will try but his brain is always spinning at like 100 miles an hour so there’s a good chance he’ll tell people even if he didn’t really mean to. And then it comes down to Eustace and Archie, and I think I’m gonna give the edge to Archie. Cause Eustace won’t tell anyone your secret EXCEPT that he will tell Tyler because he tells Tyler everything, and if it’s a good secret, Tyler can’t help himself, he’s such a gossip. But Archie knows that sometimes, he does not need to pass on the secret that was entrusted to him to Nathaniel, because this is the kind of secret that would probably hurt someone if Nathaniel accidentally told someone. He tells Nathaniel everything he needs to know, and if he doesn’t need to know and it’s not really their business, he knows to keep it to himself. So... Archie.

#rfb #regency frat bois #archibald q pemberton #nathaniel qolicott #octavius sinclair #dorian fitzgerald #eustace marfleet #reginald worthington #jasper sculthorpe #the bois #natchie #octavius #tyler lawrence #tystace

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lovebubblechoices · 5 years ago

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Frozen Forget-me-not

Author’s note : This, was requested a lot (no pressure haha ><) and then my twisted silly mind imagined this. I hope you will like it as much as I liked writting it. Of course it will be angsty and sad for the most part at the begining but the theme is not easy. There’s an accident, a car accident + coma involved. I’m not a specialist by the way so don't get mad at me… I’m doing it for the Community so feedback would be nice you know, just saying… Of course, apart from MC (Victoria “Vicky” Monroe) every characters belong to Pixelberry and lastly, as usual, English is not my first language so be nice and enjoy!

Word count : 2,346 (woopsie…)

Tags : @missmiimiie - @caroldxnvxrs - @unusualvisionsblog - @acourustic -@faithhasnowords - @wvndora - @tiki-tay - @noboundariesplease - @openheart12 - @youcancallmeanet - @edgiestwinter - @basicgirlwithbasicdreams - @nhievyenne - You, maybe?

Chapter 1 : The Downfall

The ambulance was rushing toward the hospital at full speed and with the lights on. Rafael Aveiro was driving as his own life was on the line and the other paramedics within the ambulance were scared to death.

« You’re gonna get us killed Rafael! Slow down Jesus Christ! »

But the driver was so stressed he did not and then responded something in Portuguese while his brain could not proceed English at the moment. He never was so stressed by his job really; for him it was just about saving countless lives and heroism, making his Nana proud even. But tonight, as he hurried to Edenbrook hospital everything felt different. Rafael’s beliefs were shaken because of his friend lying at the back of the ambulance.

The night had started correctly for Dr. Victoria Monroe, just like any other nights when she wasn’t working. She had planned a lovely evening on her own, outside of Boston for once. What she did not planned at all was for her car to get hit by a trunk on her way back at some crossroad in Boston. Everything happened fast - her checking the road twice, her driving carefully then some horn on her right side and blinding lights, her screaming while the trunk get closer and closer. Finally brutal noises of shattering metal while the car took a dramatic fly in the air only to fall on concrete completely destroyed and its owner left unconscious inside. She had been bleeding nonstop and her life was endangered since then. When the ambulance arrived and that the paramedics managed to get her outside the still-steaming wreck, Rafael recognized her on the spot and insisted on driving whereas he was supposed to be in the back with her. The heartbreak was too much to handle for him - seeing one of the few he loved and cared about in this critical situation. Thankfully the ambulance finally arrived an eternity later, which was in fact 25 minutes later because of the speed and much to his displeasure, Rafael ran into Dr. Varma and Trinh.

« What do we g- VICKY??!!! » Jackie shouted, shocked as ever. « I’ll get her to the OR » indicated Sienna who was trying her best to remain calm and professional despite it was her bestie in front of her. « How long had she been unconscious Rafael? » asked Jackie « At least for 30 minutes I’d say... » the young man responded. « I don’t know her vitals, I was driving... probably too fast » he smiled to himself.

He left without another word, lost in his thoughts. Jackie sighed and went back to her other patients since she wasn’t a surgeon, unlike Bryce or Harper Emery. The young talented doctor wiped forming tears in her eyes as she smiled weakly. She was hoping her friend would be taken care of by Dr. Emery. She feared Bryce would paralysed in front of a lifeless Victoria. But she wasn’t worried that much: Edenbrook was considered to be the Elite. What could possibly go wrong?...

***

Dr. Emery had Dr. Lahela step down for this one. He usually assisted her because she could tell he was one of the most driven surgeon-to-be in here but the young fellow became paralysed when he heard it was Dr. Monroe and that it was ugly, very ugly. But he accepted his fate and welcomed it with some sort of relief. At least, he wouldn’t be the one to blame if the situation messed up and that comforted him somehow but deep down… he was genuinely worried for his friend – he had caught Harper’s look studying the body and he knew what it meant.

No good.

But Victoria, or Vicky for friends, was tough; a true force of nature. Surprisingly enough Bryce came to wonder if she had any lover… He wasn’t quite sure why the thought hit him but there he was gazing in front of him without noticing anything strange or out of the ordinary on the wall. As if the wall could give him that answer. Was it the terror of losing her for good that made him think of potential boyfriends she could have?

For sure, Bryce Lahela could have easily been one of them. At some point, the two were flirting back and forth but it was mostly pick-up lines that made them laugh like idiots. But there was somebody in the picture since last year because he wasn’t on the DT but Bryce noticed small changes in her behavior and he had teased Vicky multiple times about this but she never said anything. It was her secret and her lover’s.

“Not practicing with Harper tonight Lahela?” asked a deep masculine voice.

“Ah! Dr. Ramsey!” said Bryce, looking up. “No… Not tonight. Or this current one at least” he sighed in deafeat.

“How come?”

“I… I could mess it up Dr. Ramsey” Bryce explained “and obviously, I don’t want to” he added thoughtfully.

“I’ve been told you’re one of the promising one Lahela. Why the fear?”

“It’s one of friends in there… How do you put distance between your carrer and your personal feelings Dr. Ramsey?” Bryce genuinely asked the older doctor.”

“I guess everyone’s different Lahela” Dr. Ramsey chuckled.

He was giving the young surgeon the impression his argument for stepping down wasn’t valid but truth was Ethan Ramsey understood the young lad too much. He almost replied that he went to the Amazon for that same reason.

***

“I guess I’ll learn with time…” sighed Bryce.

“Who is it, if I may ask?”

“Oh… hum. Probably the best among our small gang. Dr. Monroe’s in there, fighting for her life and I literally cannot step up for the challenge…” the surgeon sighed once again.

“If you’ll excuse me Lahela… I have business to attend to” Ramsey uttered in a slow monotone voice.

“Oh! Of course Dr. Ramsey. Thank you for your time…” simply replied Bryce and Ethan nodded as he continue down the corridor.

***

He. Had. Not. Been. There. For. Her.

There was an earthquake beneath his feet. What kind of doctor he thought he was? What kind of man even? Ethan Ramsey couldn’t think straight. He wanted to go in the OR and helped Harper but could he? Could he help her colleague saving the woman he loved more than his own life?... He wasn’t so sure about that but his pager decided otherwise.

Need you in OR 2. HE

He was screwed. He wasn’t ready to see Victoria on the operating table but hell must be damned: he needed her in his life even if they were doomed to stay colleagues. He must do something, he had to save her. Everything but losing her.

Ethan clenched involuntarily his fists because of the anger growing in him. He was angry with him because he wasn’t able to protect her and he was angry with her because apparently, it was a 50/50 chance to save her. Why on Earth she had been outside of Boston? Why she hadn’t told him about her plans for tonight? Why she hadn’t texted him?

You idiot! You hate texting. And you make excuses up – boundaries, personal development and so on. The diagnostician hated himself. He ran down the corridor the other way and entered the Operating Room n°2 after he dressed up appropriately. Then, he silently acknowledged Harper and came by her side where she was doing was she did best…

Ethan mechanically followed Harper’s orders but his mind was focused on the body lying down the operating table. His hands were slightly shaking but still precise. That was his way to keep control over the whole situation but he knew he couldn’t hold this for long. The dam was thinner and emotions were ready to flood everything and everyone else.

Ethan was on thin ice.

***

After multiple surgeries and countless hours, Victoria’s state was finally stabilized and therefore she was put in a coma and transferred to the intensive care unit. She will be able to make it thanks to Harper Emery’s talent and dedication for her job. Ramsey was glad he had not lost it but he was exhausted and his early day shift wasn’t finished yet. He had to meet Mrs. Monroe and informed her about her daughter and this was dreadful even though Victoria Monroe was out of danger for now.

He called her name in the waiting area of Edenbrook and instantly a middle-aged woman stood up and walked towards him. Ramsey took a minute to detail the woman before him as they exchanged a formal handshake.

She had seemingly soft grey short hair that were unmistakably blonde when she was younger. Dark green eyes lighten her tired features and a worried smile soften her angular yet beautiful face. Ethan could say Mrs. Monroe was an elegant woman and a quick look to her clothes confirmed it. He also assumed a wealthy background but clearly the Monroes weren’t the richest but provided for their daughter or children if Victoria had siblings. He closed the door behind her and gentlemanly offered a seat which she accepted hastily. Then, he went behind his desk, sat and faced her for the first time.

“What happened? I’ve been told my daughter’s been transferred to intensive care” she sobbed quietly.

“That’s correct Mrs. Monroe. Would you like a glass of water before we continue?” he asked her.

He grabbed a plastic goblet and put some water in it before handed it to the lady. She accepted it gracefully and waited for him to unfold the events for her. Ethan Ramsey returned to his desk and explained as calm as he possibly could the events to the worried mother. He wished his own mother was like this but it never ever had been the case. That woman walked on them when he was only 9.

“But is she saved?”

“It’s too soon to be assertive but I know her quite well… she’s a tough one.” He smiled.

“That she is.” confirmed Vicky’s mother. “Could I see her anytime soon?”

“Not for a week at least, I’m sorry.”

“No, no! I understand Doctor. Don’t apologize for doing your work. I appreciate honesty. It’s just… hard, you know? She’s my baby” she justified herself.

“Don’t worry Mrs. Monroe, I perfectly understand it” Ethan assured her in return.

“Her friends must be devastated…” she tought for herself “I’m sorry but… do you know if there’ll be consequences? After-effects due to the coma?...”

Ethan Ramsey took the time to respond. This was a serious matter and he did not know the answer for sure. He sighed heavily as he was facing the truth also for himself.

“The coma here is designed to help the recovery, to ease it. The risks of after-effects are great and unfortunately” his tone darken “the loss of her memory is plausible at this stage. Depending on how long Victoria stays in coma”.

Silence enveloped them afterwards. Then, Mrs. Monroe looked Dr. Ramsey right in the eyes and said:

“Thank you Dr. Ramsey for you know… saying the truth and only the truth to me. And also caring this much for her. As I said, I feel very lucky she has you.”

“No need Mrs. Monroe. I’m just doing my job and… And she means a lot to me” Ethan vaguely concluded.

If only you knew what your daughter meant to me, you’d be terrified dear… Ethan was trying to stay focused but his mind kept running back to the accident, to the fact that he wasn’t there with her when it happened. Moreover, there were all the things he left unsaid on purpose because he thought that was the best thing to do for both of them but now, he was losing her as Victoria was lying in a bed in the intensive care unit.

If only I had not been such of fool of myself… We’d be the power couple of Edenbrook and nothing could stop us from being the best diagnosticians… Ethan Ramsey sighed but he did not feel defeated as he had felt defeated when Naveen was dying and he didn’t know what to do. With Victoria, he instinctively knew what to do. He knew he had to be there for her, talk to her, wait for her to return from the darkness she was in. All he had to do was waiting for her to come back to him but the wait already promised to be ridiculously long and painful.

Ethan Ramsey promised Victoria’s mom to inform her of any development on her daughter’s case. Then he stood up, imitated by Mrs. Monroe. He accompanied her to the hospital exit and ran into Naveen who was looking for his protégé.

“How are you feeling my boy?”

“Exhausted and nervous. I extended my shift because Harper needed me” Ethan explained.

“I heard yes…” Naveen nodded “and about that Ethan…” he said cautiously “I should dismiss you of the case.” Naveen clarified sadly.

Ethan let out a sigh. Deep down he knew Naveen would do such a thing but he could he accept it without a word? Not that easy. “Listen, I know I’m close –“

“Ethan… I hope you know it is to protect both of you. What did exactly happen in Miami last year by the way?”

“I… We…” Ethan hesitated. “She kissed me” he finally murmured.

“I KNEW IT” Naveen shouted in the hall overjoyed. “You deserve happiness my boy, so does she”

“Maybe you’re right… But don’t dismiss me, I need her and she’ll need me”

“I won’t for now but I hope you’re aware she might not recognize you when she wakes up…” inquired Naveen

“Yeah… I know the risks. But I am willing to take them. She’s worth it” asserted Ethan.

For the first time in his life, Ethan Ramsey was willing to fight for a woman. Naveen smiled mischievously and pated Ethan on the shoulder.

“Congratulations my boy, you’re in love.” he beamed.

Ethan chuckled and they parted ways.

#fanfic #Open Heart #MC x Ethan Ramsey #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

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momentofmemory · 5 years ago

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it’s almost the end of october, which means one of the greatest, most terrifying exploits known to writers is upon us: NaNoWriMo.

there are plenty of super good survival posts out there, but as this’ll be my seventh time participating (six wins, hoping for a seventh), i thought i’d drop my own set of tips into the mix. i’m going to focus mostly on the practical details of how to write; if you want tips on the writing itself either search the writing/reference tags or pester me to do another one later :P with that said, ~on with the post~

Step One: Figure Out Your Goal

i know, i know, obviously it’s to write 50k, but what does that mean to you? are you expecting

polished prose, ready to send off to a publisher?

being able to write every day?

just throwing up a bunch of ideas?

a mix of everything?

all of these are valid, but they’re going to require different approaches. if you want jaw-dropping writing, you’re going to need in the ballpark of five or more hours each day, if not more. if you want consistency, you’ll want to look at your normal schedule and set up a couple times you know you can write at. if just you want words, pretty much all you need to make sure is that you squeeze writing time in whenever.

your goal will probably change as the month progresses, and that’s totally fine. just check in every so often to remember a)what you’re working for and b)if it’s actually plausible. speaking of...

Step Two: Realize Your Limitations

1. Typing.

imma get super practical here: your typing speed dictates how fast you can get done. if you write 40wpm (the average), you cannot write the full 1667 in a half hour any more than you can run a mile in under three minutes. it’s honestly not a bad idea to check out your own speed, if only to help you understand yourself better. in my experience, actual writing then works like this (using my max speed, 89, as an example):

Absolute Max: 89 wpm (baseline)

Warring: 70 (75% of baseline)

In the zone: 45 (50% of baseline)

Taking my time, concentrated: 22 (25% of baseline)

anything lower than your max/4 probably means you’re spending a lot of time either researching or staring at the page, so just be aware of that.

2. Time & Focus

this kinda goes without saying, but best case scenario this is at least 1-2 hours of your life a day, or dedicating full Saturday/Sundays if you’re a weekend warrior kind of person. it’s so, so worth it if you can make time for it, but also don’t feel bad if you can’t! doing a half nano (25k) or whatever you want is also a fully acceptable plan.

that said, if you do have time, figure out your focus too. if you’ve never been the kind of person that can type for six hours straight, you will probably not magically become this person when it hits Nov. 1 (though with practice, you might be by Nov. 30). i like trying to write at least 300 before work and another 300 during lunch. that way there’s only 1k left for the evening, and having words on the page just makes me feel better. experiment with different ways of blocking out your time in the first few days and see what works best for you.

3. Don’t Forget You Live in a Body

writing is hard work, you will need to eat brain food! hunching over wrecks your back, stand up and stretch every so often! you will hate existing if you forgo sleep for days! and for the love of charles dickens, patron saint of getting paid by the word, take care of your mother-effing wrists!!

seriously on that last one. i’ve ignored it in the past and thoroughly screwed up my wrists one year; don’t be me. keep in them in a neutral position, do regular stretches, and if you need to, get wrist wraps (i recommend these).

Step Three: Actually Doing the Thing

the previous steps have had pretty broad advice, but now it’s time to get down to the nitty-gritty. these are mostly things i know work for me, and therefore may not for you—adjust to your own needs!

1. Write for 15 Minutes Every Day, Non-Negotiable.

i don’t even mean this is a “write 15 min and then your brain will be tricked into writing more” kinda way, but like, literally. you’re probably not going to be able to do 1667 every day—sometimes you’ll be tired and just won’t have the time. you’re very likely, however, to have 15 minutes, and you’ll want to use them. Doesn’t matter if you write 50 words or 500 in that time, at least you’ll have done something, and that’s usually enough to keep you from feeling like just giving up the next day.

2. You Might Need Physical Spaces

i’m a pretty sensory person when it comes to writing, and having a dedicated writing space is so helpful for me. going back to the idea of being an embodied person, it’s a lot easier to get your brain into a writing mode if your body’s already there. some good options include:

coffee shops (cozy! food!)

a specific room in your home (easily accessed! do what you want!)

libraries (free! quiet!)

a friend’s house (writing buddy! easy access to sounding board!)

all of these places usually have access to wifi, which is a positive.

3. You Definitely Need Digital Spaces

i pretty much always write in the same processor, once again because it helps set the mood. the main options include:

google drive (solid choice, cloud backup, mobile accessible)

dabble writer (cloud backup, links to nano, dark mode, chapter options)

write or die (only for actual writing—a scary but effective motivator; save elsewhere)

word/pages/etc. (ready to go on your computer, formatting options)

scrivener (great plotting tools, detailed interface)

i use dabble writer myself (they’re a nano sponsor, so you can get it free for this month, and as a double bonus you get it half off for the rest of the year if you win). and no, i’m not getting paid to wax poetic about them, but honestly i’ve used it to win the past two years and i adore it.

anyway my biggest tip here is that i SUPER SUPER DON’T RECOMMEND NON-CLOUD OPTIONS. it’s very risky, but if you must, do a proper back up at least once a week. that shiz is not worth it.

4. The Timer is Your New Best Friend

because i’ve heard this argument before: no, it’s not a crutch, and no, it’s not cheating. it’s literally best practices. i’m personally a big fan of this online timer, and i let it run for 15 min every time i write. after each session i check how many words i wrote, then after maybe a quick 1-2 min break, start over.

you can totally set the timer for longer or shorter periods, depending on what works for you. i’m a fan of the 15 min sessions bc it’s just long enough to get a bit of flow going, and just short enough that i can convince my spacy brain that we can get through it without wandering. it’s also a fantastic length for warring, if you’re down for that.

5. Write That Idea Down for Lewis’s Sake

the original idea for the chronicles of narnia came to c.s. lewis when he was at a restaurant, and thank the lord, he wrote it down on a napkin. he wouldn’t write it until some time later, but if he hadn’t written it down, he might’ve forgotten it. why is this important, you ask?

BC YOU WILL FORGET THINGS.

if you have an idea, write it down in your phone or your notebook or the waterproof paper in your shower, because i don’t care how sure you are that you’ll remember it, you super won’t. i’ve forgotten many solutions to plot holes in my time and i still hold vigils over their graves. don’t be me. write it down.

Step Four: Managing that Inner Critic of Yours

all right, pay attention. i’m not going to tell you not to edit, because i would be a massive hypocrite if i did. i totally edit during nano. the important part is letting your editor help you win, not hurt you. and that means gaming your critic’s system.

1. Have a Dedicated Deletion Section

many people hear “don’t delete anything” and baulk, because for some of us it’s distracting and we want to rewrite that section until it matches our vision. so, i’m here to tell you: delete it!! rewrite entire chapters!! just save the original content as part of your word count. this is another reason i love dabble, bc at the start of nano i just make a separate part of the book, label it “delete”, and any time i’m writing and dislike a sentence/paragraph i just dump it into that folder and move on. this way you still get to keep the numbers (and why shouldn’t you? you wrote them!) while also writing words you actually like. plus, sometimes that line you deleted in ch. 1 winds up being supremely pertinent in ch.15, and now you can just copy/paste it instead of having to try to remember what exactly you’d said.

2. Acknowledge Ranting as a Time Honoured Tradition

think there’s no precedent for that 2K diatribe you wrote on the london underground? well fear not, because you can’t possibly do worse than hugo’s entire chapters worth of content on the french sewer system! or melville’s frankly terrifying obsession with the finer features of whale biology!

like, yeah, maybe you’ll decide later you don’t need it, but for now, embrace that soap box. dead white guys have been doing it for centuries and still get places in college syllabi. the least you can do is give it a place in your word count.

Step Five: Have Fun!

i know, i know, it’s cliche, but seriously. if this isn’t fun, or at least rewarding, why are you doing it anyway? so enjoy it! send passages you’re proud of to your friends! daydream about it in the car on the way to work/school! cry over a notebook about the twist you just came up with! nano’s a time of fun and exploration, and you shouldn’t miss out on it because you’re thinking too much.

also, this might be counter productive to put at the end of an essay on nano, but don’t obsess over reading essays on nano :P there comes a time when one must simply do, and nano is pretty much the definition of that.

#nanowrimo #writing tips #writing #reference #writing advice

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theblackandwhitespacecadet · 5 years ago

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About my GoFund Me Campaign

Update: 22/09/2019

I am a proud Mummy to beautiful Miss Shyloh-Marie & Future Wife to Craig Daniel Van Oosten, A Rare chronic Illness Warrioress...

Excluding Certain area's of my childhood I feel a need to share with my friends what I could never say. Now 35+ year's on, the monster remains, hauntingly near me. I have battled, struggled & lost because of Eating Issues for the majority of my life. But more recently due to factors beyond my control, the choice to eat has no longer become of my volition. My entire GI system is progressively becoming paralysed. The consequences of this are not clear enough to be treated as they are a direct complication of both severe Anorexia leading me through both Cachexia & at times Sarcopenia & a rare condition called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Some no'one have guessed Would have anything to do with either conditions. But why? is this, it's because People perceive what that Will, Little is actually Told of the true insurgient truth's, People Don't take the illness Seriously due To how common or fashionable these illness's had become, apparently.... (that's not saying they don't care), they do, their feelings have been tuned out & their frequency has been muffled by their own pain in life. Eating Disorder's have dated back to when whale bones were used as corsage & before bra's were invented & "Eating" & "Disorder" are a poor use of words as the causes have very little to do with actual "Disordered" Eating & everything to do with accepting who we are which is a symptom of a very deep underlying problems with emotional health that have nothing do with eating at all. But what for me came first, the chicken or the egg???? I’ve spent time donateing my body as a guinea pig so to speak for invaluable research to discover a strong correlation with both GI disorders & Anorexia Nervosa, more research is on the way!

I recently was diagnosed with an umbrella of rare & debilitating illnesses Firstly Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, the types have recently been recategorised to help medical teams distinguish between the symptoms loft better as research is being done wherever it can be afforded. However, unfortunately many beautiful people have lost their fight whilst they have tried to seek appropriate treatment & management for this insidious condition.

I have the rare form of two kinds that crossover, an even rarer occurrence of when Vascular type is seen alongside the most common form of classical. Because collagen makes up at least 85% of our bodies in each systemic function of the body all organs, vessels & connective tissue are in effect "Falling apart" these two words have been said to me by many Dr's & yet at the same time they've said do everything you want to do. Do it now before you age more & subsequently lose more ability. Back when I was born so very little was known of Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, my parents cannot be blamed for not knowing about these conditions. Regardless, they just couldn’t have understood my behavioural reactions to the troubles I kept silent, but that has literally torn our family apart on so many levels, we are estranged & this crushes me in ways my existence could never have been imagined.

I have Dysautonomia which causes Gastroparesis & more recently Intestinal Dysmotility & paralysis, where I'm certain my years of anorexic behaviour, due to dreadful emotional trauma had a huge impact on the manifestations of my health.

haven't helped at all & strange in contrast now is the fact that now I want to live, eat & grow my stomach has given up on me & to do so isn't beneficial.

I can however feel hunger, so it's a form of torture. I've also been in CCU for many smaller scale MI's that have lead to being diagnosed with LongQTsyndrome (Brugada) which is frightening, because it is the same type of sudden Arrythmic death syndrome that sports people have been found to suddenly drop on fields from. Lately other conditions that are linked have been exacerbated by Each other genetically. Once the systems of the body are damaged From Starvation & trauma, they then start affecting the genes. Nervous system Starvation leads To Myeln sheath or epithelial Cells To be destroyed because the Complex fatty acids that protect the Nerves are eaten away Once the mitochondria has digested all available sources of fats in the body this then destroys Brain tissue which is fatty acids From Omega 3 amongst other's. As a result of Being starved/neglected as an infant, I developed Anorexia. As a consequence of Anorexia I now have autoimmune disorders, (Lupus) these flare Inflammatory responses to sugars & proteins making it even more difficult to stay reasonably healthy. Collagen cannot be replaced, restored by re-feeding, as I found out the hard way. Anyone That eats can become unwell, These conditions are extremely rare, estimated around 1/500,000 people will be born without the gene to make their own collagen.

Every living thing must consume to survive Life whether they are young, old, thin, gay, or ethnic background.

Ahhh, so that's done for now...

Regardless of what my physical vehicle in this life causes me though, I feel I'm growing stronger in my soul... I don't hold grudges or allow negativity to stop me chasing my dreams, I love theatre (I miss it) & have many similar media skills, a patent called ZeraphicGraphics© Aspirations to touch as many lives with humanity & unconditional love as possible & travel to spend time with the most inspiring people in the world! I love being where the thrill of art in many forms helps people live. My one dream mentor (of almost 20 years) still inspires me today, even more in recent times when with amazement she was cast in a wonderful show on pay TV.

I chose to not allow my illness to be the main focus though, It's hard with a feeding tube not to feel that this is what people see... I feel often that I'm invisable behind the stripes of these conditions. So escape is rather important in the form of Arts!

Update 5/04/2018

Almost a year ago, after being fed by tubes directly into my intestine (after some proper nutrition) I found out I was expecting my miracle baby, Shyloh-Marie... So many turns, twists & tribulations! But we are all alive, grateful & looking forward. Still being a warrior, being a pin cushion like a pro & trying to make things more visible for those like me in the world... We are currently struggling with bubs sleep pattern, but other than that she is more joy than life itself! I have been able to see my now “friend in the theatre” Pamela Rabe at least twice more since our first meeting in Melbourne & I’ve finally found one of the most important people to me from my Carramar year’s... I cannot believe it’s been over 25 years ago that I was a teen, I am very privileged to be able to say this. Maybe, I will write that book! Maybe it will be a best seller lol....

Sarah-Marie Seraphic-McFarlane (Van Oosten)

My darling fiancé is my rock, we are twin flames, we met in a children’s home for adolescents, we have found each other again as we always had hoped might be possible & if possible, we hoped to have healed in the time apart. In these times precious relationships for Craig, were formed & he had a beautiful son as well to a former partner in our time apart. To such pride he was a wonderful dad but sadly, his sweet first born son passed away from a rare condition known as Menkes Disease. Since we have formed our own little family & are wanting to be married next April, we have a fundraiser to help us, as medical cost are exorbitant with my being on peptide pump feeds for nutrition, medication & treatments for a blood disorder yet to be diagnosed officially.

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scarlettlawyer · 6 years ago

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Part 3 of my commentary of @renegadewangs‘s fic series Phantoms & Mirages!

Part 1 | Part 2

Chasing Phantoms, Chapter 17

How was this man supposed to impersonate a man who was impersonating him in turn, if he didn’t even have a firm grasp of his own personality and mannerisms?

THIS IS SO DELIGHTFULLY CONVOLUTED I’M LOVING IT. Absolutely living for this.

The dialogue between Randy and Domestique in the flashback is so well-constructed, the layers of SUBTEXT – this fic. Is good.

“That’s not the point,” [Randy] ended up muttering. If anything, not knowing himself only strengthened the point. “For all you know, I could be a dangerous criminal.”

Hot damn, this line.

He supposed he could tolerate Domestique’s presence for a bit longer.

And then they got hitched. Sdkjnsdknldslkn

Running late? What were they running late for? Were Domestique and the Phantom supposed to be on some sort of schedule? Bobby knew he couldn’t question it without rousing suspicion, but that made the curiosity so much more needling.

I got so curious over this too. XD.

ASKNJASDNKLADJL GOD IT IS SUCH A SHAME THAT HE’S NOT ACTUALLY TALKING TO THE REAL PHANTOM HERE. TELL HIM OFF. It’s What He Deserves. Okay but this line is still so funny. Poor Domestique.

“Watch your mouth, LaSoote. There could be children listening in.” Nailed it.

HAHAHAAA I’D FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS.

Domestique’s face twitched into some sort of disgusted expression. Or perhaps it was frustration; Bobby found it hard to tell.

Ah. Ahh. It never really occurred to me before how awkward and awful this situation is for Domestique. Ouch. Because for all he knows that’s the phantom… Who is impersonating his “dead” ex-husband… Who he is in the process of GRIEVING. Like I’d naturally felt bad for Domestique when it became clear he was in mourning but… Never fully hit me how awkward the phantom aspect is. Or, in fact, would have been in any previous instance where the phantom is Bobby and speaking to Domestique, because that was his husband’s former identity, and then his ex-husband. Yeesh. YOU MADE AND ADDED YET ANOTHER CHARACTER TO YOUR STORY FOR THE PHANTOM TO ROYALLY SCREW OVER. As if he hadn’t done that to enough people already. XD

Although there would of course have been quite the distinction between Randy and the Bobby that the phantom was portraying, which would help a little bit for it to be a little less weird… Domestique might have been able to glean things about what Bobby used to be like from interacting with the phantom… Gah, gaah, I’m thinking so much about this now and getting more eager to read Tracking Ghosts to see what information it has to tell me, what light it has to shed. XD

Chasing Phantoms, Chapter 18

Your writing style is just, so brilliant. The way you introduce us gradually to different pieces of the puzzle when it comes to Domestique and Bobby’s relationship, and what it was like for Domestique… Keeping the reader curious and wondering, sometimes guessing at the full picture ahead of time and being greatly wrong about it.

THIS FLASHBACK. IS SO DIFFERENT TO READ THE SECOND TIME AROUND. AAAAH.

I really didn’t like Domestique the first time I read it and now I’m just. OUCH.

It hadn’t been the first time Domestique had lost his patience, but never this bad. Never with this much force.

So here we are, the… Hmm. When I first read this, I took this “it hadn’t been the first time” as a kind of confirmation of the phantom’s words regarding beatings, but… “never this bad. Never with this much force”. The crux of it depends on what “lost his patience” actually refers to here. I’d initially taken that as the euphemism for inflicting violence on Randy. But now, I’m like… what if it’s meant more literally? Is it possible this is actually the first time Domestique struck Randy? Or had he done it before, simply with “less force”? …No, the “force” comment, to me, implies that Randy had actually been hit by Domestique before. Just… less severely.

It’s a single punch Domestique dishes out, and it’s implied here to be the worst that Bobby had suffered at his hand. That’s a clear contrast to the more severe domestic abuse that I had been imagining. Of course, we as the reader had come to know that Domestique and Randy had actually shared something, and that Randy clearly cared greatly for Domestique, but this had not caused me to question my assumptions too much. Because there are still “good times” or “honeymoon phases” in otherwise abusive relationships.

But the phantom is far from trustworthy, and he said those things to Blackquill with the specific intent to bother him and to get him to leave. Blackquill himself draws attention to their untrustworthiness and how they were supposed to bother him. He very, VERY easily could have been exaggerating, both intentionally and unintentionally going by his comment about how his “intel wasn’t what it used to be at that point.”

“Randy! You’ve made your point! I get it! I don’t know what else to say, please just stop!”

The first time around, I read this line as quite dismissive, as if he’s saying “oh yeah sure as if you’re gonna really leave, you made your point GEEZ now come back here as you’re inevitably gonna do anyway”, and got the impression that perhaps Randy has tried/threatened to leave before but didn’t, which is why I thought Domestique was not really taking him seriously. I had picked up on the desperation that seemed to be present, but figured that Randy had never gotten this close to leaving before, which caused Domestique to actually start getting worried and want to put an end to it.

He remembered all the times he’d felt like the walls were closing in- like he was back in that cellar and death was all around him- and Domestique had come to soothe him. To tell him he was safe.

The first time around, reading this line had given me a bit of pause, if only because of this line, that Domestique says earlier:

“Did you have another breakdown or something? Are you pissy because you had another one of your crying fits and I wasn’t there to hold you until it passed?”

Which had made me very, very annoyed to say the LEAST and just naturally gave me the impression of someone who is VERY dismissive and neglectful, but furthermore, put in context with Randy’s perspective and his suffering, seemed just downright cruel. Like, it makes it sound like soothing Randy was nothing but a chore whenever he was “forced” to do it.

So my reaction to finding out that, huh, Domestique actually had held Randy and soothed him and actively cared for him when he broke down in the past was at least one point in Domestique’s favour. I was like:

But he wasn’t safe. Not until the Phantom was stopped.

HMM. I do kinda wonder… how he knew to refer to the phantom with this moniker at this point. This was something I also noticed the first time around, and dismissed as a potential mistake. Unless it’s not meant to be specifically from Randy’s POV and more a general narrative perspective thing… WAIT, actually. I think maybe it was supposed to be, yeah, general-narrative-perspective in the present tense

“I know for a fact that you can’t.” Domestique grinned, but it was nothing like the boyish grins that Bobby remembered. “Or how about you speak a few words of Japanese? Or French? Bobby was lousy at French, but the Phantom? He speaks at least fifty languages fluently. Probably more.”

Me: [spits out my juice]

PHANTOM… PHANTOM WHAT?!

WHEN I FIRST READ THIS… I JUST HAD TO STOP AND BE LIKE… EXCUSE ME?! EXCUSE ME? YOU CANNOT JUST THROW IN SUCH AN ABSURD FIGURE AND EXPECT IT TO FLY!

Me: I KNOW THE PHANTOM IS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING BUT THERE’S A THING CALLED BELIEVABILITY.

I kid you not, my willing suspension of disbelief snapped in half at the time. XDDD THAT’S JUST… SO MANY LANGUAGES… “FLUENTLY”?! PROBABLY MORE?!?!?!?!

Thirty languages probably would have caused the exact same reaction within me. Fifty was just so far above even that, I-

Like, at most I’d probably have capped the amount of languages the phantom could speak fluently at around 25-28 at most. Throw in a couple more that he has somewhat of a grasp on but can’t speak fluently, MAYBE. That I could take in stride. If I had to pick a number myself, I’d be comfortable at around fifteen.

But we’re also talking about the version of me that had (COMPLETELY unfair!) doubts and misgivings about how you’d chosen to write the phantom’s character and position him in the story up until this point. So, let’s give this a fair assessment.

It just so happens that I do remember reading about a real life man who was actually able to speak around fifty languages, so it is possible. But I’m not sure if he could have been called fluent at all of those, and if I recall, it was also what his career was kinda centred around, and he really just had a natural talent for it (as you’d expect).

There’s also the fact that, if parts of the brain are not taken up and busy processing and feeling emotion, it lends those parts of the brain to be able to be commandeered for other purposes. I don’t doubt that someone could really pull off unprecedented language learning ability if the parts of their brain that should be focused on emotion were instead focused on language learning instead. Furthermore, the mere fact that one doesn’t have any real emotions to be distracted by allows one to focus on learning languages skilfully. These two things could certainly feed into each other to allow a very powerful capacity for learning and retaining languages.

The first point may not really apply to this phantom to the full possible extent due to the bone sliver, which is mostly said to have damaged the phantom’s brain in the area where it counts RE: emotions. That means the relevant damaged/blocked parts cannot be commandeered for language learning instead. HOWEVER, I am willing to accept that the bone sliver further prevents the emotional-processing parts of the phantom’s brain from taking up more space that they should be taking up. That extra (unblocked/undamaged) space could certainly be claimed by other skills such as language learning, allowing the phantom to still have a much bigger part of his brain dedicated to language than the average human’s.

Another point to consider is the phantom’s age and how much time he’s had to claim himself such a high amount of languages. Well, he’s 37 at this point, if I remember right, and if I really think it through and consider him picking up different languages over time when playing different roles or in different circumstances… The fifty number kind of checks out, I guess, depending on how you play it. I still don’t know about “fluently”, but you could have a claim to speaking fifty languages or even a bit more than that at that age.

My other concern is the phantom’s career, based on replacing people and portraying them as accurately as possible. If someone speaks a certain language fluently, being also able to speak that language fluently is absolutely essential. Or it’s WAY too easy to have your cover blown – I mean, I know I don’t need to tell you this XD. I figured that yes, the phantom would know a whole bunch of different languages, but would have a very important need to stick to a certain set of languages he was best at for the people he was impersonating. It’s just really, really hard to speak a language as if it was your native one when you only started to learn it when you were like, 25. Even if you’ve known it for ten years, imo.

But it’s also worthwhile to consider that if the phantom impersonates someone who can speak multiple languages, he would need to speak all of the relevant languages. There’s just a whole lot of ways the phantom could pick up languages over time, and a whole lot of reasons he would need to. I suppose in any “free” time he had, he also may continue learning different languages as well, as it’s a great advantage for his career. Always honing his skills. Like, might as well get a certain language out of the way and have it learned in advance if you might need it later, or it will serve you later on, right?

And then you have little child phantom from under the International School of Languages picking things up there. That’s another important consideration – at least SOME of those languages NEED to be learned early, in one’s formative years, for it to be more believable. Well, Phantoms & Mirages comes back and ticks that box! Now, I did appreciate the narrative circling around and addressing that, although even then I was like “hmm… it’s not necessarily enough, I mean, you need to be able to practice to get better.” But now I realise: yeah, even if what child phantom picked up from listening in on classes wasn’t a whole lot, it was still enough. And it’s not like that’s the only way he learned languages, either. He had his whole life ahead of him at that point, and so many opportunities and different circumstances where he would learn a whole manner and range of them.

Something else to consider is I think my definition of “fluent” is simply too stringent. I’d always used it kinda interchangeably with “like a native speaker”, but I’ve been coming to realise that’s a little naive. I didn’t even know until quite recently (within the past two years or so) that there was some lack of clarity regarding the term and different people had different opinions. But this definition: “able to express oneself easily and articulately.” Can easily occur at levels well below sounding just like a native speaker. So once we take that into account as well, the “fifty or more languages” once again becomes more believable.

So when, finally, I come back, having put it all into context and giving it a more fair assessment, I can… get on board! XD More in the “gee Meowzy, I really don’t know for certain… but you seem to know what you’re doing, so I’ll take your word for it!” XD.

Besides, I can also see the phantom impersonating someone who speaks a given language slightly better than he does. It’s somewhat of a risk, but hell, taking on a new persona always is. There’s plenty of minor non-language stuff that could trip him up, so a slight language disparity isn’t that unique of a risk. And upon taking on the persona, the phantom would constantly be able to bring his speaking abilities for it ever closer to the stolen identity’s and would probably rapidly be able to make up most of the gap and close it, until whatever’s left is not what anyone would really notice. Guess the main thing that bugged me is the notion that he’d be able to impersonate anyone who could speak any of those languages as their native tongue, although that’s not necessarily the case. Well it doesn’t matter – I know that you know what you’re doing! XD

Now it’s honestly a shame that I refused to accept this figure the first time around because honest to goodness I probably would have been cheering if I did, like, that’s my fave character! Right there! 50 languages and counting! Isn’t he amazing?! xD #PHANTOMFANPRIDE

Past Me: author you CANNOT just pull ANY high-sounding and impressive-sounding number and slap it in that’s not how it works… is it?

Back then I really DID NOT know WHAT to make of the phantom in this fic. Such a seemingly unattainable number felt at the time to strip them further of their character and made them feel WAY less grounded in the otherwise very grounded story I was reading.

(Past Me, we keep butting heads an awful lot, and as a recurring theme hopefully it won’t go on for too much longer ;D)

But then I also thought, okay, okay. Maybe Domestique’s estimate is actually inaccurate and/or way exaggerated. Maybe he’s genuinely under this misconception and/or intentionally exaggerating to further have Bobby lose his cool. Kinda begs the question, how would Domestique be able to know this rough figure anyway. The narrative seemed to be implying his estimate was accurate, though, but I was prepared to accept Domestique possibly being mistaken and then move on. (I was ready to slam the “death of the author” button for interpretation of this one sentence back then, if you will).

…Whew, guess who just went on a roughly 1,500 word tangent over a single sentence, derailing and going into depth on a topic completely separate from the chapter’s focus? This person! Well that’s just how I roll.

Chasing Phantoms, Chapter 19

The dynamic between Bobby and Domestique in this chapter is so awesome to read… Domestique kissing Bobby while he still has the gun, losing control… I was really like, this is one heckin’ fic! Even though I still strongly disliked Domestique for his treatment of Bobby – Randy – just because I could hardly stand the character didn’t detract in the slightest from how cool this was to read and how invested I suddenly was in this wack dynamic between them as this scene went down.

He couldn’t quite keep the satisfied smirk from his face as he peered down at his former husband, now a pathetic, whining heap on the floor. “You’re under arrest, baby. In justice we trust.” The words left him before he could fully process what he’d just said. It didn’t matter. For the first time in over a year, it felt right.

“…You know what I just realized?” “What?” “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

YEAH I’D NOTICED THE LISTED DATE OF RECENT CHAPTERS (albeit like, I was a little slow on the uptake but I’d noticed it well before this scene) and I was like “Huh! Is anyone going to comment on this at all?” Well, why did I even have to wonder??? XD

You write such wholesome, happy and pure Blackbright… bless you. I’m not even at all invested in the ship normally and I’m like “awwwww!”

Chasing Phantoms, Chapter 20

If that wasn’t already substantial improvement, Bobby had followed through on his resolve and sought out a therapist, but what with waiting lists and initial testing, it’d be a while before he could begin to receive true counseling.

If the cast of this fic series wasn’t already substantial and intertwined enough, Bobby had followed through on his resolve and sought out a therapist who would later become a major character, but what with the complicated plot threads still lying ahead, it’d be a while before said character could begin to receive true focus and finally make an appearance in the actual story itself beyond mere references.

“With. I was working with the Phantom. Me and him go back a couple years, but if I was working for him, I wouldn’t have busted his ass out of prison. More trouble than it was worth.” A moment of silence as those words sank in. Of course the Phantom hadn’t employed Domestique and his cohort to free him- how could he? He’d been in solitary confinement.

THIIIIS, this! The fact that the characters straight-up assumed – and therefore the narrative implied – that it was a clear-cut case of the phantom being in charge and ordering around underlings who were working for him, had struck me as rather odd. It was a further reason why I couldn’t fully get on board with the phantom in this fic so far when I first read it, because it further drove home the disconnect I’d been feeling. The notion just seemed… off. After all, Dual Destinies does nothing to imply it, and I’d never really seen any phantom fans headcanon it. But there was nothing from canon that outright discounts the possibility, so I’d just kind of accepted what the narrative had been proposing as, an interesting take that merely did not readily fit into my image of the phantom. But then this correction happens and I’m like, oh, okay, huh...! A nudge in the direction of alignment, if you will.

Oh whoa, HAT-1 bomb was Domestique’s? I didn’t realise (remember) he and the phantom went that far back… INTRIGUING!

So now, we finally have the reveal of Domestique staying back late, working on the bomb for Randy’s sake, and that he really, truly did love Bobby, that they could have been happy etc.

That is angsty and had some impact on me accordingly, although my thoughts were still “okay, but you were still abusive towards Randy. This certainly puts your actions in context and causes them to make more sense, but you still did that, so I can’t exactly bring myself to feel too sad about the fact that things didn’t work out between the two of you. I’m still glad that Randy managed to escape that awful situation, even though the whole thing is SUPER sucky from Domestique’s POV.”

The notion that they could have been happy – and indeed, once Domestique was no longer under the pressure of making the bomb, they could be – also came up a little short for me because I’m like: the way things worked out was actually for the best in this case. Domestique was not necessarily a good influence on Randy either, and Randy as an identity is one I still very much feel it was necessary for Bobby to shed on his path to healing. The relationship that Bobby shares with Blackquill is much healthier and happier. It’s what Bobby moreso needs. And because this is a Blackbright fic – Blackbright being the endgame, it’s like, sure, Domestique and Randy could have worked things out, but then we wouldn’t have Blackbright, would we? ;D

But I’m realising I was still just being a LITTLE too harsh on Domestique – I was so focused on continuing to paint him in my mind as a more clear-cut abuser to stop and realise that yes, Domestique inflicted a small(?) amount of violence on Randy and that’s not really excusable despite Domestique’s reasons, but outside of those instances he was never actually “abusing” Randy, was not ever trying to be intentionally cruel or dismissive etc. He loved Randy. He DID care about Randy. He wanted the two of them to share a happy marriage with each other. And they did have a whole heap of wonderful times together! Bobby’s positive behaviour towards Domestique was present in the narrative for a reason, and it was hardly anything akin to the holdovers of abuse as I might have believed before.

Oh and also, at this point I was kinda… slightly confused about how some of Domestique’s actions added up. This is actually one of the things I sent to my friend at the time on the matter:

Now keep in mind – I knew that if Domestique wasn’t willing to obey, the phantom would have killed him, and Domestique was fully aware of this – that’s why he fell into line. What confused me at the time is that Domestique spent time with Bobby before the phantom had infiltrated the apartment, so why didn’t he make any attempt at warning Bobby or trying to save him? There’s a chance that they would have been able to run off together and lie low, because Domestique was planning to retire anyway, and I thought that maybe, Domestique would be willing to put his life on the line if it meant it would save Bobby’s – if there was even a chance they could both successfully evade the phantom. That, coupled with me misinterpreting that line about carrying Bobby’s body being suspicious that Domestique said to the phantom, caused me to think that perhaps Domestique did have some kind of odd additional allegiance to the phantom for him to follow the orders how he did.

But looking back now, I realise there were flaws in my thinking. The phantom would’ve probably had the apartment under surveillance, so how could they escape without being noticed? Perhaps Domestique hadn’t actually known Bobby might get killed before it was too late, because what reason would the phantom have to tell him everything ahead of time? Another huge thing is that Domestique and Bobby were getting along really well, fuelling my “running off together” idea. But the thing is, Randy had still divorced Domestique. Domestique still would have been sore over that, and there was no real guarantee of any proper reconciliation between them. And at the end of the day, going against the phantom is just way too risky and kind of tempting death to come to one’s way. I guess I misjudged and Domestique’s need for self-preservation (and also commonsense in light of these facts) was more powerful than the love he felt for Bobby. And the fact that, well, escape would just be so difficult and implausible.

Oh, and Blackquill too. He would have made it all the more difficult. Domestique probably would have just wanted to escape with Bobby but Bobby would want to warn Blackquill too and it would just turn into an even bigger mess. And how’d they be able to leave without Blackquill noticing, anyway?

So yeah, I think I actually have answered my own questions on this one! The phantom would have thought through all of the possibilities and made sure to have Domestique fully trapped.

Chasing Phantoms, Chapter 21

Caught in the netherworld between life and death, sanity and insanity, the Phantom was once again a figure outside of anyone’s reach.

I love this sentence so much.

Also, FIRST PHANTOM POV SEGMENT CHAPTER. A-HO!

Just picture, me back then, scooting closer to the hypothetical TV Screen, going, OK, I’m listening, I’m listening…

Me to some hypothetical other person present: Haha yeah so hands down this is an awesome fic, brilliantly written, fantastic characterisation, you know? Just kind of a shame that it happens to be my fave which the author seems to be the weakest at writing for, but – WAIT SHUT UP HE’S ONSCREEN.

he found that he didn’t like that scent.

An opinion. 👀 “It was not a pleasant scent” sounds more neutral, but. Opinion! :D

Lang rubbed at his forehead for a moment before speaking. “We lost the Phantom this morning.”

There is more than one way to read this sentence. The intended reading is kinda obvious, but it didn’t stop my brain from momentarily going “uh, he died??” XD I mean, the guy IS supposed to be in a coma after a suicidal leap from an apartment building, so y’know!

“This is absurd! How do you lose a coma patient? Did someone move him?” “He got up and walked out, actually.”

WHAT AN ABSOLUTE LEGEND!!!!!!!!!! OMG. AND THIS EXCHANGE IS SO FUNNY.

SIMON SPUTTERING SOMEWHAT AS WELL JUST MAKES IT BECAUSE YEAH, YOU WOULD JUST FALTER UPON HEARING THIS.

Then, in the next segment of the chapter, when it flipped back to the phantom’s perspective and it became clear we were actually going to get the escape from his POV, I was kinda like “wait, what?”. I mean, I definitely wasn’t complaining, but I was a little bit puzzled by that narrative choice. After all – Lang had essentially already outlined the most likely means the phantom used to escape, which would have answered any questions the reader may have had regarding the matter. So to get to read of the breakout from the phantom’s POV as he goes through essentially those same steps is, from a purely information-gleaning perspective, somewhat redundant. What could possibly be achieved by doing this? I had actually expected the finer details to be left up to the reader’s imagination – which itself is a nice little shortcut writing-wise, too.

But it’s so cool. It’s so cool. Right? Could it possibly be? Is it possible that the author is providing more phantom for the sake of phantom? Could they be acknowledging how interesting, how fascinating of a character they are? :D

Lipstick that he had to apply with extreme care, because his fingers wouldn’t stop shaking no matter how hard he tried to keep them still.

I’m such a sucker for phantom-in-a-weakened-state, and this detail reminds me of when their fingers also wouldn’t stop shaking in a scene in Just Fake It, but they had to just persist with what they were doing. :D

He contemplated high-heeled shoes for a moment, only to discard the notion. He was having enough trouble walking as it was.

I’M SCREAMING.

No, not him. Her. Until he was out of there, he was a she and she was a simple nurse who needed to leave the clinic in order to get something from her car.

This was one bit where I was like [quiet sigh] “and that’s why they/them phantom is so great, y’know? Very seamless, where you don’t need to bother switching between he and she pronouns for situations like this – instead you get to have one set of pronouns that remain consistent regardless of disguise when the narrative makes reference to them. And you can switch from they/them to more gendered pronouns accordingly if need be, too!” (But I’ll return to this at a later post.) But! Gosh, I was over the moon, I was like, wow! Wow! Maybe, just maybe, this author knows their stuff and can write a brilliant phantom! You had my attention.

Chasing Phantoms, Epilogue

Phoenix and Apollo had apparently caused a bit of a collision in their hurry.

Amazing! XD The Wright Anything Agency dorks… gotta love ‘em.

The world was far too grand for two people to have a chance encounter unless someone would will for them to meet.

WAIT IS THIS MEANT TO BE SOME KIND OF LEANING-ON-THE-FOURTH-WALL? ASDJKDKJ. YOU WILL FOR THEM TO MEET, MEOWZY. YOU DO.

Or wait. Someone wills for them to meet in-narrative too! To place Bobby in the same cell! Ahhh!

Oh, what a good ending that keeps the reader eager to read on…!

OH YEAH AND IF THE PHANTOM ESCAPES ON THE SAME DAY LANG TELLS BLACKQUILL THEN HE BROKE OUT ON MY BIRTHDAY. march 16

#tumblr sincerely didn't seem to want me to post this #so I added even more chapter commentaries in making it even longer #hah.#long post #so many thoughts D:#Phantoms and Mirages

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words-writ-in-starlight · 6 years ago

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Oh my gosh you just discovered mash? It's such a good show. It has some really serious episodes, end of season 3 comes to mind. I always imagined the animorphs watching mash or like somehow finding solace in it.

OH BOY BUT HAVE I MENTIONED THE MASH AU OF ANIMORPHS THAT I LITERALLY JUST THOUGHT OF TONIGHT THOUGH?

No, obviously not, I literally just thought of it tonight, but buckle in for it anyway because I’m SUPER in love with this show!!!!!

Now, keeping in mind that I am NOT EVEN three seasons in, here are my current castings, ft. the 4077th being known as The One Full Of Babies Fresh Out Of Med School (these kids are like 27 tops, they’re practically infants in terms of the medical field).

Colonel Elfangor Shamtul, The Local Adult, who’s actually in his late 40′s and is a real actual grown up surgeon with a practice and everything, now the boss of a MASH unit in Korea and discovering that his talent for commanding a surgical theater actually translates really well into commanding a military unit. Most everyone under his command thinks he’s the best thing since sliced bread. All his superiors are basically looking for an opportunity to get his ass court martialed when they’re not handing down commendations for his weirdly effective slant-wise thinking. His old buddy Arbron keeps them stocked then the supply lines are cut and if anyone asks Arbron and the Mountaineers are running a completely legitimate shipping enterprise. Elfangor goes by first names with the entire populace unless a general’s there and has never enforced a dress code in his entire life because it would require him to give up his blue jacket. He was transferred to command of the babiest MASH unit as a punishment after the first time his buddy’s legitimate shipping enterprise got tapped for being probably black market.

Corporal Aximili Isthill, the babiest baby, who is 25 and oh my God Elfangor is adopting this boy he loves him so much. They’re not blood relatives but Elfangor got handed a gangly excitable kid as an aide and was basically like “that one’s mine thanks” and never looked back. Ax is actually seven kinds of genius but none of them are medical--he has a stellar memory for medications but no head for anatomy--so he’s more or less single-handedly keeping the base running. He’s apparently some kind of psychic, if his gift for knowing exactly what’s going on where and when at any given time is any indication, and he's discovered a frankly inhuman talent for electrical engineering since he got drafted out of his blossoming career as a perpetual student. Elfangor is making this child get a doctorate if it kills them both, and since it turns out they actually live within an hour of each other in the States, there’s a non-zero chance that Ax will be moving in with him afterward.

Captain Jake Berenson, who is chief surgeon but not second in command and who just wants everyone to cooperate for five fucking minutes please. He is begging. And everyone knows that even though Big Jake (his army nickname within 0.3 seconds because he’s the tallest guy in the unit and built like a Mack truck) isn’t legitimately second in command, he’s the guy you go to if you want to get anything done. He specialized in cranial trauma, which isn’t as useful as you’d think when half the head wound cases die before they reach the hospital, but Jake thought the brain was interesting and made his specialty decision while kinda drunk, so. Leave him alone. The reason he’s chief surgeon isn’t because of any particular medical brilliance--Jake is a good surgeon mostly through sheer pigheadedness, not because he’s a sparkling medical mind--but rather because when Jake starts barking orders, people listen.

Captain Rachel Berenson, who is a surgeon because I don’t care about historical accuracy and because she fought tooth and nail to go to medical school and then signed up for the war when they wouldn’t draft her. She’s at least 60% of the reason Jake is begging people to cooperate, because Rachel has made nine doctors, four nurses, and six patients cry since getting her white coat. He’s not saying she didn’t have her reasons, okay, she has the right to defend her position as a doctor, but also please stop. She knows more about chest injuries than probably anyone else in Korea and she likes to remind people that it means she’d be just as good at inflicting them as patching them up. Marco labels her the Warrior Princess after two days of knowing her and it sticks hard even though she threatened to open him up with a rusty scalpel when she first heard it.

Major Cassie Day, head nurse, who everyone knows is the best at making sure that, once the surgeons have yanked someone back, they stay back. Cassie is an angel, probably, or at least so goes common theory based on the sheer miracles she’s pulled off in her time. As long as someone’s done bleeding to death when they get to her, she’ll probably drag them through--whether they like it or not. She and Rachel are bunkmates because no one knew what to do with a lady surgeon and Cassie offered, and they’ve been best friends ever since, complete with Cassie occasionally helping Rachel’s more hare-brained schemes come together. Everyone and their cousin, including Elfangor, knows that Cassie and the chief surgeon make out in the supply tent, but also the one time Cassie left for a week leave the entire unit broke down so no, they will not be reporting them for breaking frat regs. No matter how much Elfangor’s second-in-command wants to. One time someone talked shit about her skin color and was drummed out of the unit on mysteriously appearing court martial charges two days later. Contrary to popular opinion, it was not Rachel who started the brawl that got him brought up on charges, nor was the guy actually murdered straight up. Arm broken, yes. Murdered, no. Turns out Big Jake hits as hard as he looks like he does.

Captain Marco Reilly, who is the unit psychologist and also Rachel’s top enabler. She spends 80% of her time defending herself as a woman and a surgeon, he spends 80% of his time defending himself either based on his race or based on his career, and they are responsible for 80% of Jake’s ulcer because they get in a huge amount of trouble together. Psychology hasn’t really entered the generally accepted medical field, but Marco specializes in treating trauma and combat fatigue and he gets soldiers back on their feet better than anyone else. He decided on his career when he was a kid and his mom was a nurse in WWII who wrote home about how she saw boys without a mark on them ruined worse than those who would walk with a limp for the rest of their lives, and Marco doesn’t believe in regret. It’s also this mentality that generally leads to him and Rachel being a Problem for Jake. That doesn’t stop Jake from accepting the offer of gin from Marco’s personal still, or from more than occasionally getting swept up in the shenanigans himself.

Corporal Tobias Williams, who is in charge of triage and about 80% trained as a nurse in addition to his other duties. (I know MASH doesn’t formally have someone in charge of triage but they SHOULD okay, listen, they SHOULD.) He’s a decent chopper pilot, too, but the unit tends to contrive reasons to keep him around. Rachel likes to have him assist her in surgery because he has an uncanny talent for spotting things that have the potential to kill her patients almost before she does, and isn’t afraid to mention it. Tobias and Ax fall in together as inseparable besties within about a month, and Tobias learns not to wait for the announcement that wounded are coming in not long after--he just watches Ax tilt his head in that particular way and sprints off to the staging area without missing a beat. For a bit a lot of the unit talked shit behind Tobias’ back, claiming that triage was slacker work, but then there was a day where Tobias spent nineteen hours on the staging area directing choppers and ambulances, stopped for twenty minutes to eat and chug an entire pot of coffee, and turned back out for another twenty hours, and went to assist in OR once the wounded stopped pouring in. Then folks stopped talking shit. Tobias is nervous and jumpy and generally quiet enough that no one ever thinks to suspect him of being trouble, which is why people are always shocked when it turns out that, say, it was his idea to smuggle in a dozen kegs of beer for New Year’s.

(Elfangor spends three months getting really attached to Tobias before he finds out some relevant information and has about a six month crisis about how to approach it. His ultimate solution is TBD.)

Major David Pence, aka That Rat, who is Elfangor’s second in command and a screeching pain in everyone’s ass. Everyone except David knows that his dad bought his way into med school and leveraged his rank in the army to force Elfangor to take the kid on as his second. David’s under the impression that he’s great shakes at surgery and command both, and he straight up tried to report Elfangor when Jake was appointed chief surgeon over his head. That was not a major event, because David tries to report someone about twice a week. About half those attempted reports are either Rachel or Tobias or Ax--Tobias and Ax because he thinks they’re getting above their station, Rachel apparently for the crime of being herself. He cannot be trusted to keep a level head in a crisis and Cassie has had to swoop in and save his patients more than once.

Ji-Min “James” Song is a civilian doctor, their primary contact at a long-term recovery facility in Seoul where they send patients who are destined for a discharge. Every time James rolls up to collect a patient, it is heavily implied that very similar chicanery is going on at his place, and he and Jake get drunk together to commiserate a lot.

Elfangor gets drunk with them too, sometimes.

#mash #animorphs #the one where the 4077 is full of babies #featuring stealth david? i just wanted him to be there to get kicked around as an easy target #for my soul #all i ever want is for the kids to get to burn david all the time always so he is frank and i'm not sorry #rachel and marco are the SOURCE of a lot of the shenanigans but the others cannot be trusted not to enable #elfangor is slightly more onboard with stuff than henry but also he gives biweekly lectures on how they need to not get court martialed #i have my reasons for these assignments!!!! i am particularly pleased with tobias as a jack of all trades but mostly a triage commander #(get it: he's the one with the wider view of the situation)#marco (idly): do you think i can make this still more efficient?#ax (chipper): i could double your output no problem #marco: .......marry me immediately #probably erek is the priest having a perpetual crisis about violence but much more slappable than father mulcahey #after jake beats the bejeezus out of that one dude erek gives him a lecture on turning the other cheek #and when he nods stiffly and marches out of erek's tent he gets a rousing ovation from the unit at large #also OBVIOUSLY rachel and tobias start doing the kissing thing eventually #it just takes longer because they are not as emotionally articulate as jake and cassie #which is not to say that jake and cassie were quick about it--everyone got to stifle in the pining for A Minute before they got together #marco feels like he Deserves his still at this point #ax had actually never been drunk before marco got him plastered and marco is THRILLED with drunk!ax as a phenomenon #idk i've got a remarkable amount of this sorted out given that i thought of it maybe three hours ago #idiot teenagers with a queue #m to the 6th power #asked and answered

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creepycreature-exe · 6 years ago

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Chronicles of An Abnormal Person: Mr. Nobody

I have tried so very, very hard to live a normal life. I’m not exaggerating either, I have activity made choices to try and keep my life as mediocre as possible. I chose to go to a normal four-year university, I chose to move to a normal city, I chose to work a boring as fuck desk job all in the vain hope that it would allow me to live a normal life. My mother sacrificed everything to give me a normal life. In spite of all that work, I still ended up being an abnormal person.

I’m getting ahead of myself though. I think the best place to start is with a name. You may call me Lyra. I am a 25-year-old woman who lives in a large, widely known city. About a month ago, my mother died suddenly and without warning. The coroner still isn’t sure what killed her, and police haven’t turned up a single suspect. She lived in a small back-woods town about two hours from the city. There is virtually no crime out here and everyone knows everyone, and yet, she was killed in her home in the middle of the night. I’m actually writing this from within the house.

Now my mother and I hadn’t spoken much since I went to college seven years ago. Not because we were on bad terms or anything, in fact my mother and I were incredibly close. However, we both knew that I would never be able to leave this town behind if we didn’t sever all ties to each other. So, she sent me away, and never talked to me again.

I think… I think some part of my brain blocked out all the weird things that happened to me while I lived in this house. As I stepped over the threshold a few days ago, I wondered why I hadn’t visited or called at least once over the years. Now that I have been here a few days though, it’s all starting to come back to me. In the wake of this, I have decided to put it all out there, not for the notoriety, but to see if someone else out there has been through the same thing. I’m hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone who has gone through all of this before, can give me some advice on what I should do. I know that may sound crazy, but please just hear me out first.

I think the first weird thing I want to talk about is my old imaginary friend. His name was Mr. Nobody. I first met Mr. Nobody after I moved into this very house. When we first met, Mr. Nobody had the appearance of a lanky, depressed 16-year-old boy. His hair was brown, and shaggy. His clothes were clearly bought to accommodate his height as oppose to his width, as they were very baggy on him. One big thing I can clearly remember, was this large necklace he always wore. It had beautiful beads and a silver cross, and I think Mr. Nobody once mentioned that him and his family were all Catholics. Honestly though, most of my memories of him are fuzzy. I think I found him after hearing him crying from the woods. This house borders a vast forest, and there was no actual fence between the forest and the backyard. So, it was easy for 4-year-old me to follow his cries into the forest, and to his location.

One of the few things I remember clearly is his shock upon seeing me. He obviously hadn’t expected me there, and I can’t blame him. This was the middle of the woods after all. The other thing I can clearly remember, is that when I asked for his name, he told he was “nobody.” Little me took that quiet literally, which is why I called him “Mr. Nobody” from that point forward. We talked for a while, he explained his woes and I did the best a naïve child could to reassure him. I can’t quiet remember what ailed him, all I can clearly recall was turning towards the sound of my mother’s voice as she called me home, and when I turned back to say good-bye to Mr. Nobody, he was gone.

From that moment on, I saw Mr. Nobody everywhere. Sometimes he would appear in our house, sometimes he would be in the yard. Sometimes, I would see him out on the town. The only thing that remained consistent, was that no matter where I found him, I was the only one who could see him. This is why my parents thought he was an imaginary friend, cause only I could see him. And I mean, he must’ve been. That is the only logical explanation for his existence, but still, there are things about him that have always stuck with me.

One of the big ones, was that Mr. Nobody got older. At first, I didn’t even really notice. The changes were so subtle, they were easy to miss. Than one day, when I was about 10, I noticed that Mr. Nobody had some grey hairs. He grumbled about getting old as he gently combed the greys into his hair and out of sight. That was just the beginning though. As I grew older, he started to dress differently; from tee shirts and jeans to button ups and khakis. Mr. Nobody matured into an adult as I matured into a teenager. Still we talked to each other, with Mr. Nobody always seeming to feel lighter after telling me his woes. I just enjoyed feeling useful to someone. My father died when I was young, and my mother struggled to fully accept his death for years. I also wasn’t well liked in school. I was a tall, geeky-looking child and bullies dogged me mercilessly until high school. I was so desperate to feel wanted by someone that I basked in Mr. Nobody’s friendship and was willing to talk anywhere, anytime.

Another oddity about Mr. Nobody was how long he stuck around. Most of the kids I knew grew out of their imaginary friends by the time they were in 3rdor 4thgrade. However, I can vividly recall sitting at the table, as my mother stared at me with confusion. A shop owner in town had seen me walking home, talking vigorously to thin air and had called my mother out of concern. I can still remember my mother’s response when I told her I was talking to Mr. Nobody. “You are 13 years old, far too old for this nonsense.” I can remember deciding, in that very moment, that I could never talk to Mr. Nobody again. That wasn’t the last time I saw him though. No, Mr. Nobody kept showing up for a few months after that. Every time he would try to talk to me, I pretended I couldn’t see him and go about my business. It was hard to pull off, but over those months I started high school and made some real friends. Once I had a group of friends to distract me, leaving Mr. Nobody behind was easy. And you know what? After a while, he stopped talking to me. I still saw him from time to time, but he never tried to talk to me during those moments.

That’s how things stayed for a long time, and then… and then there was the graduation night incident. The day itself is a blur, mostly due to the morning bustle followed by the boring ceremony. After that, I went to an after-party with friends, got plastered and came home at an ungodly hour. I can vaguely recall passing out on my bed, and then nothing. The next thing I know I am out in the woods behind my house. I was sitting on the forest floor, balling and screaming for my mother. Her voice was screaming out for me somewhere nearby as a familiar shadowy figure fled into the woods. It was the figure of Mr. Nobody, darting into the trees as my mother and a few neighbors followed my screams. I was taken to the hospital, where they kept me until I completely sobered up. The police stopped by too, but the blackout kept me from telling them anything of value.

Afterwards, my mother packed my bags and sent me to the city to stay with one of my father’s old friends. She only came to see me once after that. That memory is crystal clear in my mind. My mother drove into the city to help me move into the dorms at my college. She helped me set up my room and we got lunch together. We never talked about what happened on graduation night, we tried to focus the conversation on my upcoming term. Finally, she walked me to my dorm room and stopped in my doorway. My mother gave me a somber look and told me that this was the last time we could see each other. She implored me to work towards having a normal life. My mother asked me to find a good job in the city and instructed me to never contact her again. I think that was the first time since my father’s death I had seen her cry. Before I could hug her, she walked out the of the dorm and left me.

The reason I wanted to talk about Mr. Nobody first is because the police came by earlier today to drop off some personal affects, they had taken the night my mother died. Among those things, was a beaded, silver cross. Now my mother can be best classified as a pagan, and she had a deep spite for Christianity. I can even remember a time I brought home a friend who had a cross on his shirt, and my mother nearly threw a fit. I cannot think of an explanation for how the necklace got into the house. When I looked closely at the cross though, it brought back all those memories of Mr. Nobody. It has left me wondering, if it is possible that Mr. Nobody was something more than an imaginary friend. Especially as I think back on other strange occurrences from my childhood. I’ll write about those at a later date though. For now, I think I am going to try and get some sleep. I will submit more soon.

#writing #horror story #creepy #scary #Chronicles of an Abnormal Person

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cocoabutterbby · 7 years ago

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i'm so sick & tired of the millennial interpretations of dating, relationships & love

everytime i get on twitter, instagram or tumblr, i see some pessimistic asshole telling others that "you're better off by yourself" or "if he/she doesn't grant your every wish & do as you say when you say it leave em" or "if they have a couple flaws, let that person go" or "you can't trust anyone to not hurt your feelings" or "being focused on work, school & money ONLY is the best route" or my least favorite one "your feelings are a distraction & you shouldn't have any a.k.a be heartless". those last two are really just ignorant & a bit stupid bc you should know love that is worth it will never prevent you from getting your check, if anything, it'll help. the ONE thing y'all are ever right about is that it's important & usually better to love yourself before you love others because no one can teach you to love yourself. BUT let's be fucking REALISTIC for a minute. love, like & feelings are a part of life. brainwashing people into thinking that a nihilistic view of love results in brain damage, to be quite honest. as cliche as it sounds, living without love is not living at all. love is actually quintessential to life. i will repeat myself, LOVE IS A PART OF LIFE. you will love many people, as many people will love you. that doesn't mean that you or the people you loved were necessarily at fault for failed romantic endeavors. people are NEVER going to be perfect companions because you are the only 'perfect' companion for yourself. you understand your own faults & mistakes, you know they stem from some internal problem or result from past situations so you're okay with them, you forgive yourself & work on yourself. you have to be willing to understand & forgive someone else the same way. you have to help that person work on their flaws the same way. this goes without saying though, only the person you really love is worth understanding, forgiving & working with. the same way you have to work for any other area of happiness in your life, you have to work for love. it is never going to come easy, you can ask any couple you know that has been married for 25+ years. this DOES NOT imply that you should ever let someone blatantly hurt you repeatedly & walk all over you. be able to discern who loves you & who doesn't, and the decision to stay or leave will take less than a minute. how? people who genuinely love you and care about your happiness within the relationship will ALWAYS be willing to work on & fix the flaw that made you unhappy. people who do not really love you do not care about what made you unhappy & will continue doing it. they will not bother to accept and understand why they are wrong. this is because those people usually only want the relationship because of sex, loneliness, the craving for admiration from others, etc. SO, love yourself, be open to love, and be able to discern love from bullshit. also, if you can't have this talk or any talk about your relationship with that person, it's not worth it & you should leave it alone. you can lead a horse to water but you cannot make it drink.

OH! and BLACK LOVE? like EVERYTHING ELSE, IT IS EVEN HARDER TO COME BY. let me tell you why. the mind frame of love that black women & men have has been literally altered by the way we were treated by others a.k.a the white man & the white woman. white men brainwashed a lot of black women into thinking that black men ain't shit & vice versa. so when you see black women & men doing the same dumb shit, PLEASE TRY to UNDERSTAND where that dumb shit is coming from before giving up on them.

before you comment some bullshit, these are my perceptions of love coming from a black woman living in america. so if you live in another country where black love hasn't been assimilated, don't say shit to me, just be happy black love is easier to find in your country & keep it pushing.

#love #relationships #blacklove #feelings #rant #my post

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paleface-warmheart · 6 years ago

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Don’t dream...it’s over

7 years, 1 month, 21 days. The time from the beginning until the very end. The hopes, the dreams, the togetherness, the love...was over. Where did it go wrong?

I think back to the early days. What a beautiful, scary time it was. This man, a man, actually liked me! Wow. He’s so handsome too. So funny, so creative and intelligent. What did I ever do to attract such a beautiful man? His ex-fiance seemed needy, demanding and as if she lived in a fantasy world. She wanted to get married, she wanted the fairy tale and she wanted sex to be intimate. The lights off, and the romance intensified. She kept his ‘dick in a jar’. Disliked porn and would freak out if she caught him having a wank. She wanted marriage first, the house and then the kids. At least one by 25. At least. I started to take mental notes.

Must not ask too serious questions about marriage, buying a home...and babies. Must not expect to hear ‘I love you’ anytime soon, if at all. Must remember to never ask for the lights off and to encourage frequent wanking, and porn. It was exciting, scary and somewhat satisfying to have a guide of what not to do. I was happy, so happy. His friends were nice too. Well some of them anyway. I think they liked me. I think.

Two years go by. What are we? Are we on the same page? Do we want the same things? Why do we never talk about our future? Why doesn’t he post that much about me on social media? Why doesn’t he make it public that he is in a relationship with me. I am nearly 30. I need to know if we are heading on the same path, towards the same goal. I don’t think I want kids, but I like the idea of marriage, and creating a home. That would be nice. I just have to finish my Uni degree and get an awesome job! The best job! The highest paying job! I cannot wait to build a future with him. Why doesn’t he talk about it with me?

I ask, he gets angry. I tell myself to not ask that again. I turn 30. The neighbour shows his true colours. I am terrified, and desperate for my life. He cannot cope with me and my panic attacks. I cannot cope with the nightmares, the hyper-vigilance, and the fear. I get away to a new home, an incredible new home with an air conditioner! Wow! That is awesome. I get an amazing job, I get treatment for my PTSD. I recover. He wants to move in. He delays the move in date. I get nervous.

He moves in, it is 2016. I cannot believe that life could ever be this beautiful. What did I ever do to deserve all of this? I am living my dreams! I go on a quiz show, I get a tattoo. Why haven’t we talked about the future? Why do I feel too scared to ask? Our sex life is incredible, but why does it lack an emotional connection? Why do we not make out like teenagers? I like kissing. It’s great. He just likes to peck me on the mouth. No open mouth. He critiques my kissing on our first date. That hurts. Maybe that is why he doesn’t like kissing now. I don’t really like his kissing either. It lacks connection, that intimacy, that warmth. Those magic words ‘I love you’.

I go overseas with my friends and it is so much better that I ever imagined. It is a dream. It is beautiful. I don’t want to leave, but he is waiting for me. My home is waiting for me. I cannot shake the virus. I feel deflated. My brother has to stay with us. It is beyond stressful. I just want him to leave us alone. I am exhausted. We are tense. It is our 5 year anniversary. He books a room in the Hilton. It is a 10 minute drive away. This is not our usual anniversary. I am excited. I am nervous. Could this be the moment I have always dreamed of?

It doesn’t happen. I am gutted. I cry and the next day I approach him to talk. He responds ‘I want to grow old with you’. That is sweet, but he never mentions the word ‘wife’. Will I be just like his ex? Strung along for 7 years and then dropped for something new, something less ‘needy’. I have to tell my friends that it didn’t happen. I don’t remember much of that year. I barely remember my birthday. I don’t remember much of anything apart from the arguments. I awaken in the hospital.

The next months are a blur, but I remember my excitement. We are going to marry! It’s going to be in Wittunga Botanic Gardens. The Mexican food truck Taco Cat will do our food, and the bagpipe man will do our music. I am beyond happy! He wants to commit to me, he wants to be my forever! Shit gets real. He has panic attacks, and weeks off of work. His mother berates me on my way to rehab. Why are you not doing that to help yourself and Nick? Why do you keep doing this? It’s stressing Nick! That does not help him, you are not helping him! You are making things worse. Do more, do better! You must go on medications to control your ‘crazy’. You must spend $35k on dental work. Do it for me, he says. I am angry that I survived.

You cannot watch that! You cannot talk about that! You cannot cry over that! You are so sure of yourself! You have an answer for everything! Shut up, don’t speak to me! Leave me alone! The blame is getting worse. I hate myself. He gets sent home from work for mental health reasons. I hate, blame and criticise myself even more, and so does he it would seem, and his fucking mother too. I get approved for my license. I am excited. I will no longer have to rely on others and feel like a burden. Dad gets diagnosed with cancer. Sally dies. Times are tough.

I attend Sally’s funeral. I feel numb, but on the drive home it hits me. I nearly had one of those. How many people would have come? What pictures would they show? What would they say about me, and who would say it? What music would they play? Nick Cave’s ‘Into my Arms’ I hope. That is beautiful. Sometimes I wish I did have that funeral. Especially when he yells at me for getting upset, for getting anxious. Are you taking your meds? Are you doing your CBT? I am so tired.

Christmas Eve comes round. He looks in my eyes and says ‘I have a little surprise for you at home. I love you so much. You mean the world to me’. I tear up. Could that really be my surprise? He buys a fish. I am gutted. We spend New Years Eve together. It is beautiful. It will be our last. He goes back to work, and things are good. Much better. Dad stays in the Cancer Council Lodge. It is heavy. It is a lot of pressure. We begin to break again.

I start my on-road driving. I am overwhelmed with my new ‘world’. I break down. It is two days before Valentines Day. I will never forget, and never forgive those words ‘I want to get to a point where I look at you and don’t just see a burden’. My heart breaks. I have never seen him filled with so much hate, so much anger, so much disgust. Am I just a burden? I can’t drive yet, so maybe I am. He says I go ‘crazy’ too often. The ‘crazy girl’ from the crazy family, just living up to her reputation I guess.

Driving goes so well. Dad gets the clear. We are nearly at 7 years! Wow! He asks me which ‘ring’ I want. I cry. We are going to make it! The lady from my work leaves. I am scared. I tell him that. He cracks. He yells at me. I ‘went crazy’ and I fucked him up. He needs two days off of work. I don’t know what I did wrong. I felt safe and secure to share why I felt ‘scared’ by her leaving. It makes my job hard. I have no-one to help me with the quantitative work needed for ‘traditional’ evaluations. He doesn’t get it.

He plans on leaving. I confront him. I stay at a friends place. He wants to leave our home. He actually wants to leave me for good, not just a break, a break up. I get my license back. I walk 30 minutes to get him his favourite things. He likes chocolate soy milk and Aktavite. I am exhausted, but I force myself to prove how much I love him. Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me! You’ll never find another woman like me! Love me! Love me! Love me! He is already on his way out. He has been for a long time.

It ends. I am numb. He tries to control the break up. I take my power back. He gets angry. I just want to know why he wants to end for ‘us’ and why he didn’t want to work on it. The universe literally shows me that this chapter of my life is ending. I feel better. It is meant to be. I feel like I am accepting this end. He tells me he is having second thoughts. I am confused. He has fucking abandonment issues. You’re spot on Freud. I have relationship anxiety, and rejection issues. He wants the break up to be done his way. Slow. Really fucking slow. Just like how he does everything. He says we must support each other, but only on his terms. What he means is for me to only give him support, supporting me is not important, well that’s what he thinks anyway. He berates me for being upset. He calls me negative. It’s a fucking break up you fuckhead! I take the power and control back.

He only wants to speak about happy memories. I can’t, I need to think of the criticism, the blame, the control, the fucking gaslighting. I hate how he talks to his friends about the break up, about me, about my family and the fucking potential new ‘love of his life’. I wish I didn’t know about that. I cannot get that thought out of my head. I hate that he will have her. I hate that his friends can help build the foundation to a successful relationship. She’s the one. He’ll get his third chance at love. Fucking third. I have friends who have never had one chance, and may never. He will get married, and live happily ever after with pale, quiet, intelligent her. I broke my body and my brain so that he could get his shit together to create a beautiful, stress free, easygoing life with her. What a fucking waste. He doesn’t deserve it.

I see ‘Mystify’ the Michael Hutchence documentary. It is Winter Solstice. It is a new beginning. Michael is beautiful. The documentary is so perfect. It hits home how similar I am to Michael, but my pain is in reverse. I feel grateful. I can do this. I can move forward. I block him on social media. I read about how to get over relationships. I follow the steps and gather support and advice. He is still in my home. Why? Just go, just leave me to see how my new ‘world’ looks and feels. Why must you drag this out? Why must you continue to torture me?

It is nearly our birthdays. We always spent them together. He tells me that he wants to spend mine with me. I don’t. I will spend it alone. I do not care. I just do not want to be reminded that this will be our last together. He wants me to keep every memento of him, even that professional photo of him. I don’t. I stand up for myself. It is nearly a month since we ended. He won’t leave. It is nearly his birthday. It is nearly my birthday. I will be 35. I am so tired.

I tell him no. After today there will be no talking, just texting. Yes, but only to inform me when he will be at my home to finish off his packing. I will never speak to him again, or see him again. Unless by accident. I feel good about this.

The dream is over. It was a beautiful dream at times, but that was the past, that was a long time ago. I woke up.

Who am I? What are my dreams now? Where do I begin? How will I heal from this? How long will it take? How will I deal with him moving on with her? Being happy, intimate and going on new adventures with her? Fuck him.

What can I take from this end? From the last 7 years? Where to from here? Where do I begin?

I am no longer a burden. I never was.

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heroes-hq-blog1 · 6 years ago

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BOOKIE IS OFFICIALLY READY TO JOIN THE ACADEMY!

› SONG HOSEOK › 25 YEARS OLD › PARACHRONAL COGNITION › 8 YEARS IN THE ACADEMY

POWER

Parachronal Cognition: the ability to perceive how time plays out in parallel timelines. Wielders of this ability can view parallel timelines that have differing past/present instances, or look into countless possible future paths. Proficient users may contact their parallel selves or other individuals while viewing the parallel timelines.

STRENGTHS

Future Visions: Bookie may predict possible outcomes of events and choices of others. Soulbound: Bookie is proficient enough to communicate with other versions of himself without any extra burden on his part. Etched in Stone: Bookie has full access to his own and any other timelines’s and parallel-selves’s past events and memories. Number’s Game: Bookie gains complete probability computation of any future possibility through various means, such as seeing percentages, variables, and choices as if they were tangible.

WEAKNESSES

Cosmic Feedback: Bookie receives pain with varying intensity that is equivalent to the amount of parallel futures that he chooses to access and perceive at one given moment.

Own’s Destiny: Bookie cannot influence other people’s choices by simply sharing those people’s parallel futures in hopes of pushing them towards that parallel path as this shuffles and changes the possible parallel futures, therefore deeming the act of sharing to adjust another’s timeline path counterproductive.

One on One: Bookie is strictly limited to conversing with one individual or parallel self at any given time while he is in the act of viewing parallel timelines.

Mirror Reflection: Bookie may only contact or communicate with individuals of other timelines if there is a personal connection to Bookie’s personal memories.

Raw Data: Bookie computes probabilities in real-time and oftentimes me slightly overwhelmed when he considers all possible options or outcomes at hand.

Sleight of Hand: Bookie is unable to inflict any changes to probability through his powers and may only affect probability through normal human means, like cheating or rigging systems.

Scatterbrained: Bookie is prone to consciousness overload due to the amount of parallel selves viewing his timeline or attempting to contact him. (Think more than one person calling a landline, and “please leave a message!”)

Disillusioned: Bookie starts to suffer from Parallel Viewing, a phenomena where he views the present of other timelines melding with his own (though the timelines are still separate entities), as he becomes more fatigued or stressed, where the intensity and severity of this vision is proportional to his total tiredness.

ORIGINS

Hoseok, the eldest son of four in the Song family, enjoyed a semblance of life in relative normalcy. With a mother and father possessing precognitive abilities, it was of little surprise that he inherited the family’s Sight. Unlike his parents however, Hoseok perceived events and gained knowledge neither through slumbering dreams nor sensory touch, but instead through sheer concentration. Visions of different breakfasts next morning turned into visions of answers to next week’s exams, which turned into visions of him experiencing his first bicycle crash that scheduled to happen next month. The boy spoke out in fear and desire of avoiding certain accidents or fatalities, in which his father forewarned him to “allow Destiny to show the paths, then choose one to follow.” Involuntary trauma pushed Hoseok to numb out random calamities, while his mother pushed him to pursue ‘scenes of optimism’ to help tide over all the collected images he deemed useless. “Nothing you see is worthless, my son. Use this newfound knowledge and choose a path that that benefits you. Even if it seems futile sometimes, know that you are the writer of your own Destiny,” she said. Repeatedly, the boy grew with these words echoing within his drums, seemingly finding not a single vision that did not contain his parents’s vision.

At first, the powers turned him playful. Guessing games eventually grabbed a hold of him, making rock-paper-scissors and hide-and-seek no more than literal child’s play. Conversely, remembering every little detail became as simple as clapping his hands. Birthdays were never forgotten, nor were favorite colors. Curious questions asked were rarely entertained again for hearing the answer would be redundant to the tiny boy. Never had it occurred to his young self that accessing his memories was no longer a mental effort, but rather a retro-cognitive one. Having library after library of previous knowledge aided in his excellence at schooling, forming him a spectacular, yet lazy student throughout the years. Life only became more intense as he gradually realized that some of his memories were not of his own volition, and yet he could vividly play out each sequence as easy as breathing. Seeking advice from his loving mother yielded explanations that he could only accept at the time: “You’re just a smart boy. Do not fuss.” Fortunately, the voices in his head would come knocking to say otherwise.

Twelve years of age, it was then where he had his first interaction with the B. Hive, a collection of other Hoseoks who pursued to perfect the next iteration of Hoseok, or at least improve him in his current prime timelines. Altogether, they represent the ‘B.’ of their timeline. Face to face with a familiar, graying man, Hoseok was introduced to the life of a B. Keeper that goes by the name ‘Brain.’ It was here, somewhere in a time between his childhood and his expiration, that brought forth the true expansiveness of his powerful abilities. “They, other Bs alike you, call me Brain, though know that I am no more knowledgeable than you, fellow B. I only desire to unlock that potential within you.” Scenery changed before his eyes, as he revisits his childhood up to a scene unrecognizable by him. “Find this building. And, these people!” Brain exhibited people with amazing abilities different from his own Dazzled by such a display, Hoseok accepted his fate as a member of the B. Hive. Days ahead went by where an adolescent Hoseok continued to practice his ability in future vision, culminating possible likely outcomes and influencing the events surrounding said outcomes in order to attain one favorable to him. To him, trying to predict the next card to come out a deck or guessing someone’s private log-ins became his recent, normal routine.

Expanding the horizons of his powers ended up with him delving in scenarios an average teenager would not be around. Ultimately, Hoseok was struck with an addiction, constantly winning prizes either in cold cash or personal information. Visions of someone’s next personal information or where they hid lucrative belongings where accessible to him. The teen always remained small-scale, blackmailing fellow peers into giving him won to keep their secrets safe with him and recovering wallets that had been previously forgotten by their careless owners. A simple five-minute sit-in would open up a couple handfuls of past outcomes or possible futures of the setting he would be at, and though Hoseok might not always return with a haul, the few times he turned out to be successful made it all worth it to pursue. As his gains increased, so did his greed.

Dipping into this treasure trove charmed him. Hoseok started participating in local bets, especially on sports. Abusing his power to predict with better odds allowed him to push hard onto underdog teams or unlikely scenarios that were destined to likely happen. The list became endless: guessing what round a boxing match would end; determining whether a player would hit their triple-double; or even calling exactly when a goal would be scored. His focus enhanced the more he divulged, doubling his small allowance and strengthening his precognition in a single afternoon. People actively evaded his pools of choice as his infamy rose. Things worsened so quickly that rather than trying to play the House and others, Hoseok began hosting his own sessions with his peers and upperclassmen. Along with aligning to the path he wanted, the teen took on the local nickname ‘Bookie’ to better stand out among the B. Hive and his friends, seeing that his specialty suited such a reclassification.

Midway through his secondary education, Bookie experienced more and more disasters through his vision. Nearly all of the events were avoided by him, until one Friday evening. Heading to his usual hangout downtown proved to be a pain, as an image of a vehicle crashing through a large window kept reappearing. Unable to ignore these invasions of the mind, the man concentrated on the specific time and place. Locating the setting, his eyes flipped through the picture book, only to realize that although minor details change: shirt colors; the people sitting; or the paper posts, a woman in blue would always suffer the same fate of being the first to collide with the automobile. To him, this type of scenario was unexplainable and incomprehensible because some timelines always had some type of intervention that resulted in a different branch of significant time, then it had hit him. Abruptly, his feet started up a sprint to the next block over, with him spotting the lady. Like a madman, Hoseok screamed to get down and dove to yank the girl out of the way. His head shot back up before he braced his ears for the impact, yet nothing occurred. Angry, the woman got back to her feet to scoff and scold him. A finger flies in the air to point at him in scolding fury but alas, the vehicle finally hits its mark right on time. Shards flew everywhere, with Hoseok barely managing by with only a few scrapes. Now, a horrific scene lay before him.

Disdained as a couple of weeks pass by, Bookie laid low, unwilling to manipulate his parachronocognition due to the incident. His mind became distracted, replaying the scene over and over in the confines of his head, only broken by the greetings of a gleaming stranger. “You’re that kid, right? The one that ran in the shop. Ten days ago, was it?” Frustration built up within as he halfheartedly returned an answer before confusion had set in. “Yes, I was there, too. Oh, where are my manners?” Out extended a hand towards him, Hoseok accepting the shake before conversing. “A scout for the Avenger’s Academy. Yes, the very one! And, we would love to have more heroes like you.” Spreading the news of his invitation to his parents set even more confusion into his heart and soul, with both his mother and father saying that they foresaw him bringing home such news. Yet, to him, this future was blurry and unavailable.

Happily, the years went by at the academy without many stops. Bookie was a studious person not by choice, after all. Besides his regular, mandatory classes in mathematics and literature, he dedicated most of his extra time researching quantum physics and space, seeing that they might have applications to him. Other than a single day in a meditation class and brain exploration, the man would spend eternities in the recesses of his mind, communing with fellow Hoseoks of other universes. In turn, he socially suffered and spent more time literally with himselves, until finding an odd bunch of other fellow ‘outcasts’ with extraordinary powers of their own. Quickly, he adapted to provide the logistics and maneuvers to this group. Additionally, his habits have yet to dissipate as he still ‘collects’ information on others and recovers lost items here or there. Unsavory conduct such as gambling have been set mostly aside for him due to the many restrictions in place, but he has gotten away with a few harmless bets. Overall, Bookie finds that there is a future for him here in more than just learning and perhaps use his unique knowledge to help the Academy in the future.

#hq:accepted #yoo seungho

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