#the real answer is that my job drilled into my brain the importance of making things online easy to read and i just do it here by habit

[wutheringmights]

I haven't read Call Them Brothers yet (I'm planning to eventually) but I did want to say that your posts are so professional that I was solidly convinced it was an actual book popping up in my ads for at least a month.

i am such a dingus on the day to day that I overcompensate with clear formatting that increases the readability of my posts lmao

[nancypullen]

Doofus

I hesitate to post about this because I don't know how it ends, but it's amusing enough to share. On Tuesday morning I had a job interview. Yes, I, the self-proclaimed lady of leisure, applied for a job. Mostly because I'm absolutely rotting in this town, but also because it's at the public library. The library - my home away from home, my safe place, my tribe! Every decade of my life, the local library or my school library played an important role. That's why the advertised position seemed like a sign from the universe. Maybe this is how I make Denton feel like home. Maybe this is how I finally meet wonderful people. Maybe this is how I avoid snapping and becoming an old swamp witch with thirty-seven cats. Actually, that last bit is appealing to me. Anywayyyy, I sent in my resume and letters of reference before leaving for Ireland and left it up to fate. Last week I received an email inviting me to a Zoom interview, which I accepted. I was informed that I'd be meeting online with the "hiring panel". Yikes. Facing a panel felt weighty. What questions would a panel ask? Will they think I'm too old? Will they drill me on the Dewey Decimal System? Spoiler alert: I've had it memorized since elementary school. Where do I look. at their faces or at the camera? What if there's a technical glitch and I can't join the meeting? What if they hate me??? A million more questions buzzed around in my brain. So I did what I always do and asked myself, "What's the worst that can happen? What will you do if that happens?" That nearly always takes 99% of the pressure out of a situation for me. I either realize that the issue isn't nearly as big as I'm making it, or if it is big, it's still not the end of the world. Also, once you ask and answer those questions, you've formed at least a loose plan of how to deal with the worst outcome. Once you have a plan in place, nothing seems as daunting. I recognized that I'm perfectly qualified for the position, but if they go a different direction then that's exactly what's meant to happen. It wouldn't impact my family, no one will suffer, and I'd just have to find another outlet for my time and talents. Hardly a life-altering tragedy. That's why I woke up Tuesday morning, did my little 30 minute walk, and got ready for my interview with a lighter heart. The Zoom invitation was starred in my inbox, so I pulled it up and had it on my screen. I positioned my laptop in a spot with plenty of natural light so I wouldn't look like a creeper in the shadows during the meeting. I felt good. BUT... you knew there'd be a "but", I may have chosen the wrong outfit. I don't really own any serious business attire, there's not a blazer to be found in my closet. Most libraries are fairly casual, as long as you're neat and covered, you're fine. I decided to just choose a flattering color, so I'd look more alive and less...sixty. As the clock ticked down to the scheduled meeting time I sat down, cleared my throat, reminded myself who I am, and logged on. The little wheel was spinning and a message popped up alerting the host that I was present. After a few minutes faces started popping up in the Brady Bunch style squares and my brain immediately started playing that old Sesame Street song...

One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn't belong. Can you tell which thing is not like the others, before I finish my song?

Every person on the meeting appeared to be dressed in dark, serious colors (maybe it was just the lighting?) and it looked like a congressional hearing. I looked like a bag of cotton candy. I wore pink. I might as well have put a unicorn puppet on my hand and given my answers that way. This is what the meeting looked like.

Obviously those aren't the real people, those are stock photos, but you get the idea. I felt goofy. I think I may have talked too much and too fast. I answered every question honestly, and I was able to talk about my strengths (that's always hard for me), but I felt like I rambled a bit. You're shocked, right? In all honesty, they were a very nice panel and seemed open and friendly. The questions were thought-provoking and relevant, and the information they shared was interesting and encouraging. I did receive an email a day later scheduling an in-person interview, so they didn't hold my fashion choices against me. I should start searching my closet for the right black or navy outfit for that interview, but I'm leaning toward turquoise. I gotta' be me. *IF* I'm offered a position, they should probably know what they're getting. I may be pink and fluffy, but I'm also capable and nice. Who knows what will come of this, I may get to spend my days in book heaven or I may have to keep looking for my spot in Denton. Either way I'll be just fine, cotton candy doesn't rot. Stay safe, stay well, be yourself. XOXO, Nancy

[nerdygaymormon]

Hi, uncle David! No pressure to answer this one if you don’t want to—I just think it might be helpful to me and others who are trying to feel comfortable in our identities as queer people and children of God.

Lately I’ve felt deeply ashamed of myself because I worry I’m not as accepting or open minded of a person as I thought I was. I’m genderfluid and queer in other ways, all my friends are queer, and I love other queer people; I feel a bond with them. We understand each other in many ways. I guess that’s why we’re called a community.

But lately, I’ve noticed I still have a lot of internalized homophobia and transphobia that I thought I had worked through. Much of this homophobia and transphobia is due to my upbringing in the church and the fact that I am a devoted believer in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.

I catch myself thinking things I’m ashamed to think. Thinking that God really does disapprove of who I am. Thinking that maybe I’m willingly defying Him and just “convincing myself” that this is who I really am. I find myself worrying that I don’t truly believe that God loves or approves of queer people (or their actions) like I tell myself I do, despite the fact that I AM queer.

I guess what I’m saying is: factually, I believe that LGBTQ+ people are valid and that we should be able to live authentically. Science has shown us that being trans, gay, etc. is completely natural and that people all throughout history were also queer. I know for a fact that queer people are real and they deserve happiness and healthy lives. (i.e. I don’t think gay people should have to live a life without romance/marriage). But I have been raised with ideologies that have been drilled into me so deeply that now, despite all the facts I know (science-wise and from experience), I still have these internal biases. I still catch myself thinking that “acting on” being gay/trans is a sin even though I don’t think it should be considered one because we know that repressing queerness is very harmful to queer people’s mental health.

I was wondering: have you ever experienced something similar? And if so, how did you overcome it?

All my love <3

I grew up in an oppressive environment, US society was decidedly anti-gay, as was the church that I attended. I heard many messages that gay is bad and I took those messages in, over and over and over.

I grew up believing gay as a bad thing and wanting desperately to change my sexual orientation.

The first step is to understand what internalized homophobia is, that it's something you experience, and be willing to work on this.

Another step is to identify ways that internalized homophobia affects you. You already listed some things, but here's some other ways it may affect you. Such as wishing you didn't have these attractions, trying to make them go away, feeling like your attractions are a defect, trying to make yourself feel attracted to people of the opposite sex, avoiding other queer people.

One of the best ways to work on overcoming internalized homophobia is to spend time with other queer people. I've used Meetup.com to find groups of gay people going to the movie, to an artwalk, and different sorts of activities. I feel so normal after spending time with other queer people.

Do some things to build your self-esteem and that pushes away the shame. I made a list of my good qualities, I also got a new wardrobe, buying things I wouldn't have allowed myself to consider before. Some people leave themselves positive notes. Another idea is to get facials or massages to help you feel good in your body.

One thing my therapist kept suggesting is to eliminate sources of homophobia in my life. I have found that a hard thing to do. I got myself job at a university which is queer friendly. I can be as out as I want to be.

While I eliminated some people from my life, I didn't push away my parents, and church also is still source of anti-gay influence.

I try to limit the bad influence by drawing boundaries on some of the things I'm willing to discuss with my parents, and avoiding classes or talks at church if I know they'll be discussing queer topics. Also, there's supportive people at church, find them and hang out with them.

Another important thing I do is I replace negative messages with positive ones. If I'm brave enough to speak up in Sunday School, then that's one way. If I'm not brave enough, I at least will whisper a positive message to myself to replace the negative one I heard.

When someone makes a joke at the expense of gay people, I point out that I don't appreciate it. I'm happy with jokes, but not ones that demean gay people.

And finally, one of the most important things I did was meet with a therapist.

You already have made a great start, understanding that queer people have always existed, are entitled to rights, that being queer is a normal, natural thing. Your brain is in the right place and your heart needs to catch up.

I hope you'll find some of these suggestions useful as you move forward.

[jezy]

My Ben 10 Reboot/Grim Dawn OC-- Libra Renov! :D

Warning! Some of these parts have uncomfortable stuff, so if you don't like it. Might wanna either scroll down faster or endure it if you still wanna read it.

Libra has a lot of expertise with being a Sage of Illusions but she's also a healer and wild card in case missions go south. Which is about 50/50 percent most of the time.

She's also one of the smartest sages there is. But she sometimes focuses on the puzzles way too much so she doesn't notices anything going on around her.

Libra has a few friends but they're just a bunch of royal jerks. Except Hex, she liked him when they've met. Disa and Libra are friends too, but she trusts Hex more than anyone.

Before Libra died, she was a human with wavy chocolate brown hair with deep blue eyes and fair skin. Now, she's an aetherial with messy black charcoal hair with glowing green eyes and her skin's pale white.

She is an adopted royal, let me elaborate : Her real parents' kingdom got dethroned by another kingdom in ledgerdomain. The king and queen who has a tomboy daughter which they don't like, and resulting for said daughter to left them with no heir. So when they dethroned Libra's parents, they took toddler!Libra under their wings and taught her how to be a girly-girl princess.

At first, Libra loved it but when she grew older she became a rebellious child (in secret) and would often read her adopted father's books about magic without permission.

When she met Hex (when she first sneaked out for the first time), she realized she can be so much more than just be a useless princess in her kingdom. She could help people on the front instead of doing it behind the walls of the castle.

So ever since then, whenever she gets the chance to do something rebellious, she would do it using illusions as distraction then she helps the people in need with a disguise. (Like Robin Hood).

Her adopted parents didn't liked it obviously and were trying to figure out who would do such a thing. They still haven't found out it was her.

Libra & Hex are the "friends to lovers" couple. They're glue you can't easily separate and will hurt you if you hurt one of them.

When she found out that she's getting arranged marriage to Hex's younger brother, she didn't liked it. Yes, she knew about Hex's younger brother, Spellbinder, but she didn't liked him like that.

So when Libra & Hex became 18 years old, they eloped to Cairn and became Sages since then. They're not exactly married in legal standards, but they don't mind it one bit.

When Hex gets pissed at someone, its Libra's job to calm him down.

Since she's the only thing that stands between Hex and his anger to the whole multiverses. That is, when she died in the first cataclysmic war.

Libra deeply cares about Hex and is deeply hurt whenever Hex does something he regrets. Like, cursing his brother when Spellbinder forcefully kissed her lips.

Of course, Hex hid away from her for a few years because of the fear he'll hurt her too.

This made her depressed and longed for him, even to the point on not eating or sleeping because she misses him too much. Till Disa slaps her from her depression and yells at her to get a grip.

Libra was slightly thankful for her, even though it hurts like hell. She now learned a lesson that Hex would come back. Which he did, and Libra basically sprung out to crush him with her hug.

Libra cried rivers when Hex came back, as well as him.

After that, they now have more love to each other. Which is a blessing for the other sages since they now feared/despised Hex because of what he did.

They were peaceful, until the cataclysmic war....

Now, the cataclysmic war isn't just some war, it was a war between The Gods of Cairn and The Aetherial. (I'll probably make a post about the Aetherials and Gods of Cairn, since I can't explain everything in here)

It affected everyone even The Sages, half of the faction died including Libra. Who got trapped inside the spell of the Handmaiden Shield and burned alive by the aetherfire the aetherials had caused.

When she died, her soul got flung down deep into where the aetherials (now just spirits) had now reside. When they noticed her and found out she wasn't one of them, they tortured her for eons till they came back to take over the world. But she held it together for as long as she can take.

That was until... Theodin Marcell, The Master of Flesh, had began experimenting & reanimating the bodies of humans. He searched for test subjects (alive and/or dead) and found Libra's corpse in an ancient graveyard, and decided they will make her their most perfect masterpiece.

And so he did, first they forced Libra's soul to go into an aether crystal (a sort of physical form of aetherials). Then, he sliced open Libra's body's chest and planted the crystal inside her heart. Then he started reanimating her.

When she first came back to life, she was strapped naked in an electric chair. She tried to get out obviously until she saw Theodin Marcell coming down.

"Ah, so you're awake..."

"What do you want with me?!"

"The higher ups of the Aetherhold has accepted my request to test on you, Miss Libra Renov..."

"That still doesn't my question bastard!"

"The higher ups also want you to join our army. A special soldier, if you will."

"I'll never join you! Not after what your kind has done many eons ago!"

"Of course, I know you won't accept, so we'll do it the hard way instead..."

"Wha--" Then she screamed. Theodin had activated a switch that activated the electric chair. There were iron nails, nailed through her hands, and seemingly connected to the wires up to the switch. Making her feel the pain through her nerves system.

It hurts like hell, it felt like she was on fire. Her organs felt on fire, her brain-- Everything felt like on fire.

Theodin kept doing this to her till she threw up bile onto herself. Coughing up the remaining bile in her throat.

"Hmm, interesting, a human body can take so much of electricity before they perish. But you however, since you were blessed by the gods, you can take so much more..."

"What the hell does that mean?!"

"That means, I have to do more experiments on you. But since you just woke up, I'll let you rest. Tomorrow, we will continue, and by then... You will sooner or later become a masterpiece....."

She only glared daggers at the possessed man as she was dragged away to a cell. They threw her and pinned her down, then they chained her up against the wall to make sure she doesn't escape.

Her hands felt numb from the electrocution, her body was shivering from the cold and shaking from the electricity. Her brain felt dizzy, if she focuses too much on an area, she would throw up.

Whatever the hell Theodin has in store for her, she'll endure it. She won't break from him. She'll get out and escape as soon as she finds a way how.

Besides, how worse can it get?....

Surely it won't be too much for her? Right? She's seen disturbing things, she has the confidence that she won't break.

Oh how wrong she was...

How very wrong she was...

The next day, when she was being escorted to the experimentation room. She tried to escape.

There were many aetherial possessed soldiers and once they saw her, they started shooting at her. Unfortunately, she was hit multiple times and died.

But that wasn't the worse part, the worse part was when she started to wake up. What she saw was scarring.

Her body's opened up like some frog in a science class, she could see her organs and everything from her perspective. Bloody equipment on a table, her beating heart, and Theodin poking and putting something inside her. It was enough to make her nauseous.

"Oh? Awake already?"

She was freaking out and started to squirm a lot.

"I suggest you don't squirm, unless you want an important organ to get cut from your recklessness."

She immediately froze from his words.

"Good pet." She growled at that nickname, she was very disgusted by him.

She tried to look around for any places where she can run, or anything nearby that she can use to break out of her confinement.

But she couldn't do anything, she knows that. She can't escape and she'll just bleed out if she somehow miraculously did. She was trapped.

She had no choice but to stare at what Theodin's doing to her for hours, mortified. And when he finished stitching up the slices he made, he did one more thing.

"Oh, and since you tried to escape. A little torture will be necessary."

And so he did, by stabbing her leg unexpectedly, in which she screamed. He kept doing this to different parts of her body until she began crying and whimpering.

Her face was covered in cuts and limbs that have stabs all over them. There were a few close calls to her neck making it look like scratches.

"Oh, you're crying? That's pathetic."

"...."

"Still not answering?"

"....."

"Whatever, because of your recklessness you got shot down by our troops. So I suggest you stop being stubborn and just accept it. You can't escape. And if you do, we'll be coming after you."

Those words slowly drilled down into her brain, she tried to ignore it but couldn't. In the next few days of those horrible electrocutions and mortifying tests that include getting her shoulders dislocated in the process, she was beginning to starve.

Theodin doesn't cares though so he just ignores Libra's whimpers of starvation and continued on the experiment. Even if it means Libra gets slammed like a bruised ragdoll.

There's more, more worse than that. When Theodin realized he couldn't do more experiments on Libra due to her lack of energy. He feeds her near-expired food, by literally shoving it down her throat till she chokes on it.

She absolutely doesn't likes it and tried to escape once after that. But she got stabbed from behind her and died once more.

Everytime she tried to escape, she keeps dying. And everytime she was brought back to life, she was punished. Either it was electrocution, beating her up, stabbing her randomly, or really painful whips in the back.

Her brown hair became darker until it was charcoal black due to getting electrocuted many times, her skin was so pale that you would barely see the cuts in her face. She has spots of burns on her skin when aetherfire was shot at her, body that has stitches everywhere, and her hands was beginning to glow bright green due to prolonged exposure to electricity.

Her head hurts, a lot and her chest feels funny every time she exhausts herself.

She cries in her sleep everytime, she can't take it anymore. She is in so much pain, so much stress. That she didn't even saw the worst part that happened to her.

"Fuck you..."

"Oh my, how dirty your mouth is."

"Screw. You. I can tell whatever I want to say."

"Oh my... Don't tell me you've forgotten one of the rules of your faction... That would be very disrespectful of you."

"Wait, the rules??"

"Yes, don't you remember the faction you joined and its rules?"

"My faction? Yes, my faction!... The err... S..So...The Sorcerers!"

"You meant 'The Sages'?"

"Wait, 'Sages'??? I thought--"

"Oh don't tell me you don't remember, The Sages of Cairn? The faction you dedicated your whole life into."

"Of course I remember! Its just err..."

"You seem to have forgotten your faction."

"N-No I don't! I do remember them!"

"Oh then please, tell me all about it."

"Its..erm, ugh! Why can't I remember?!"

"So you don't remember anything? Anything in particular. Your friends, your family, even your lover?"

"I...I don't remember....." Then laughter erupted from the man, as she tried to remember.

That was the worst part, she couldn't remember anything. Her memories full of holes, fuzzy dreams with no meaning to her, and sometimes nightmares would crawl into her mind. The only thing that she held onto was her name and the name of her lover, Hex, but memories of them being together was long gone.

And soon, Theodin had managed to succumb Libra in her weakest point. Where she was easily manipulated by the aetherial....

After a couple more years of experiments, torturing, etc. She was empty both inside and out. Her eyes were dull of life, her vision (sometimes) was such a haze but she didn't really cared.

Theodin had turned the once stubborn Sage into one of his mindless (very scarred soldier) soldiers for battle.

She couldn't feel pain no longer. After what she went through, she slowly became numb to pain. Which was good for Theodin Marcell, as they now have a perfect masterpiece, ready to go and do their bidding.

But the downside is that she became a masochist so every wounds inflicted to her, was a pleasure for her instead of pain. So she had to wear a mask, so people won't find out she loved the pain on herself.

She became a Mage Hunter, a mixture of an Inquisitor and an Arcanist. She disguised herself using illusions (that she vaguely remembers) and infiltrated the barracks of The Black Legion.

She then proceeded what Theodin tells her to do, smuggle the aetherial spirits to people who are the weakess mentally and with most negative emotions.

After Malmouth had fallen she continues hunting down humans for Theodin to "make a masterpiece" out of them. That was until Hex arrived.

One day, she received a mission to protect Warden Krieg in his home. So she used a rift to get there quickly, and when she did...

She saw none other than Hex who's fighting aetherials at the moment.

She stood there staring at him, thinking about how familiar Hex is to her. Though, she didn't know it was him. Until she decided to call out for him when he was finished with killing the aetherials.

"...Hex?"

That immediately caught Hex's attention and saw Libra standing there, shock mixed with confusion.

"How do you know my name?"

"I..I don't know, but I remember someone named Hex.... I'm not sure.... I just called out to you..."

"Well people don't know my name unless--"

"I'm Libra..."

That made Hex shut up quickly and come up to her with widened eyes before hugging Libra. Her mask was quickly swept to the side as Hex kissed her.

The hug and kiss really made her feel nice and warm. Like, they've been doing this for who knows how long.

But soon, the warm feeling disappeared when he let go, "How can I know you're Libra??? She died eons ago..." He said with sadness in his voice. That was a good choice, being skeptical was a good choice.

"I don't know either.... I can't remember anything, my memories are filled with holes..."

"Can you remember maybe a little bit?"

"Well, I've been getting nightmares more recently... My dreams were always different but I think I remember burning in one of them..."

"So it really is you... What happened?"

"I'll tell you, but first, we need to go somewhere and then we can talk."

Hex only nodded and followed her to a hidden place. That was when she told him everything she remembers so far, after the end of her talking Hex looked like he was going to rip Theodin Marcell into two. Which makes her scared.

She doesn't want to lose the only warmth that she has now, she needs to protect him. That was how she betrayed the aetherials and helped Hex with his missions.

This doesn't please Theodin though....

But she doesn't care, she's obsessed with Hex's warm feeling and she doesn't want to lose it.

Even though her memories is filled with holes, Libra felt like she belongs to Hex.

And since Hex is now together with Libra again, he can help her with those hole-filled memories.

And maybe now she can slowly remember what they used to be...

Here's the current gacha design for Reboot!Hex and Libra (Since I can't draw, lel)

Hope you enjoyed it!

[painted-crow]

Submission time #19

so i’ve been spending the last little bit unburning my lion primary. now i’m sort of lost on secondary? i suspect i have bird in there somewhere but i’m having a hard time separating my natural secondary and a model that i really like and find helpful. (or maybe it’s the now-surprisingly-loud lion primary drive for authenticity coming through?) so if it’s okay with you, i’ll take a crack at some of the quiz questions and see if there’s anything of note? spacing might be weird—i’m on mobile :/

Sure thing!

When you succeed, how influential in that success were the people around you?

my answer to this one depends on the day. yes, they’re extremely influential; no, i don’t always like it. not because i don’t appreciate or need the help but because it got into my head in a funny way growing up. i’ve always been tremendously lucky to have people who love and want to help me, but like... it gets to the point where it feels like i’m nothing on my own. how much of this is a favour? what do i owe you? are you just trying to spare my feelings or because i’m related to someone else? i’m desperate to be able to say (and believe) that i’ve done something for myself on my own terms.

Ooh, okay. So, you've maybe got some caretaker Badgers around you, but that's not you--you don't really value this in yourself, even if it's how the community around you works. If you have any Badger secondary, it's anxious.

Do people consider you charismatic?

charisma is SUCH a concept. it gives off such an animal magnetism, face of the revolution vibe, which is not me at all. i have to work hard to be nice bc most people deserve the benefit of the doubt (as i repress the instinct to be judgy and mean LMAO) and also bc it just works better socially? flies and honey and all that. i also have very specific ways of being nice: “mom friend” and “hypercompetent rookie in line of succession” and “spicy and nonjudgmental confidante” which, granted, are already all parts of my personality just emphasized for clarity. i think of it like... personality colour correction, or... code-switching i guess.

You've literally just described Actor Bird. Also, you're not very nice when you describe yourself, are you?

people tend to like me more than i like me, though, and it catches me a little by surprise every time. maybe it’s just because i live in my own head and it’s a lot quieter and more anxious up here. it does suck a little, suddenly being worried that like “ooh ppl only like what u show them but that’s not how u rlly are”

Lions (primary or secondary) and Actor Bird can really clash... it sounds like you're discovering that your primary doesn't like this tactic as it unburns. Also, I think Bird masks just take a lot of energy if used long term. That might be me though.

so i’ll Sprinkle In Some Light Trauma to gauge the reaction (and regret it immediately). the truth is that not many people make it past the social utility part of friendship and so i don’t rlly... feel safe? putting down the masks which are designed to smooth interactions in any case. (so i guess YES but actually no i’m charismatic but also that’s a very different public facing side)

Yeah, this is all Actor Bird so far. Also, hugs.

Do you like going into situations with a plan?

mmm. i don’t think i plan so much as i attempt to see into the future and force my best outcome. i HATE going in blind—if i can a way around something, i will, but if i can’t it has to at least be a good and sensible attempt. most of the plans i usually put together have coping-mechanism, doodling while on a phone call energy: too granular to ever implement, just something to put order to the things you’re thinking.

This is still lots of Bird energy. Plans don't always look the same, you know? And some of us barely use 'em at all.

like, i do have all my degree requirements and preferred classes listed out, because that’s important and i should have that sorted out correctly before declaring my major. but the hour by hour daily schedule is more of a thing to make me feel in control and like i’ve put the work into considering it.

i’m also a stereotypical nerd: i have an english/history brain, i write a lot, i fall down personality inventory rabbit holes for fun, i pick up random things that end up relevant years later, nothing was as distressing as not being able to read for fun bc university was just Too Much—you know the drill.

I do, but not everyone is like this. You're probably a Bird, and I wonder if you're taking your secondary for granted because you feel like it's expected of you.

but for someone who plans as a coping mechanism, it’s also sometimes the best way to put me off. like i don’t know, being friends, which is the only thing in my life where traditional overthinking would RUIN it absolutely.

i know someone who semi-despairingly refers to herself as machiavellian because she interacts with people like it’s 4D chess.

Huh, so your friends don't talk about themselves very nicely either.

collects info, reshapes her entire personality into something designed to appeal to whoever she’s talking to. i tried not to get into motive bc socializing really is like That sometimes, but i couldn’t imagine pulling that off. i talk big game about acting a certain way, but only in ways that are already part of me yk? if i couldn’t believe i was being legit in some way i’m like 97% sure it would show through somehow and make it real weird.

You're still on Actor Bird. Your friend might have a Snake model? but you're an Actor Bird.

How do you feel about shortcuts?

work smart not hard, she says, working hard anyway bc she needs to see all the little things fall into place just to make sure that they do.

seriously though, that is for “important enough” things: i need to see it done to standard. i can rest only with a job well done kind of thing—due diligence so that any tomfoolery that goes down isn’t my fault and therefore no one can get mad at me.

This might be a Badger model, and I'm gonna take a shot in the dark and say you picked this up from your community because it's what they expect of you. You don't seem to take any joy in it, though; it seems like an anxious response.

also i have beef with the idea of being gullible, so i’m gonna see it with my OWN EYES. for less important things, it’s a heart says yes mind says no situation. i love the shortcut that saves time and effort but keeps the quality, which is plentiful when it’s like. pasta sauce, but not when it’s like. the Donner party heading to california. i would love to shorten that stuff, but the consequences of a poorly done shortcut are more painful than the slog.

Bird modeling Badger. Yep.

Do you feel the need to keep the peace?

(it didn’t come up on this run of the quiz but i’ve been mulling over for a while!)

Huh. This question doesn't always come up? I always get it. I have to assume it's the quiz checking for Badger.

i’ve got a fairly bad temper and a transparent face. so no—i’m not much for keeping the peace. i can do it properly if compelled, but it’s exhausting and irritating and only really makes me resentful of the emotional labour.

Whether you can keep the peace is kind of separate from whether you feel you should, but you also really dislike being in that role. You're modeling some Bookkeeper Badger, which doesn't actually make you happy, and you really don't seem to like using Courtier for anything.

does it bother me when people fight? yeah, like most people do when it’s a rift-causing argument in a group they care strongly about, but if i’m not more loyal to one side of the dispute i’m much more likely to take out all the parties and have done with it. i’ve been known to fight back or even start stuff if the cause is important enough, or i have spleen to vent, but i’m a very messy arguer so staying out of it and collecting receipts in the background is much more my style.

Wonder if you've got some Lion secondary hiding out in your Houses. You don't like going into things unprepared, but maybe there's a Lion model you could be nurturing that would make you happier than that Badger mess that's been pushed on you.

anyway. this was long. made me think harder about badger than i thought. lots of feelings, but def not as sad as the ones i typed up and deleted ages ago which i elect to count as progress. thanks for making it this far hahahah

Yay! Progress!

Yeah, I don't think you're a Badger. It really doesn't make you happy. You sound like a Bird to me: actor Bird, rapid fire Bird, but not Badger. Not Snake, either; if you're a rapid fire or actor Bird (or both) you might mis-Sort yourself into Snake, but I'm not getting that from you.

--Paint

[hisakata-resutomoshibi]

I see your unhinged!morallychaotic!Kuro idea and I raise you a Kuro who just let Inner!Kuro/BlackCat takeover.

Hey! Sorry it took me SO long to answer this! But you got me thinking lol

I played around with an appearance change, like what about incorporeal horns?? Just kinda misty and tranluscent. Maybe some two tone hair..... but personality had me the most hung up. Blackcat seems SO different from Kuro on a basic level that I’m not sure how his personality would change. I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are some quick sketches and a little fic that I wrote trying to work out what I thought the changes would be!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The man across the plaza had caught and held Mahiru's attention for a while now. 

"Hey! What did you want to drink?" The attendant running the punch stall asked exasperatedly. 

"Anything's fine." Mahiru shot back, his eyes still trained on the shocking black and white hair gleaming sullenly in the wavering spotlights. "Tea?"

The server muttered something and in just a second was shoving a glass into Mahiru's hand and waving him off, signaling the next person to approach.

His long island in hand, Mahiru shuffled sideways, hoping to keep the mysterious man in view. He hadn't moved for several minutes now but the streets were crowded, just as they always were on Halloween and Mahiru was no fool- one could disappear in the span of a breath to never be found again. He had no plans, no real desire to talk to him, but something about the way the man stood was like a shout; Mahiru had heard it and couldn't seem to shake the feeling that he had been meant to.

"I just want to know if that's a wig." He muttered, trying desperately to convince himself. The man's hair, long and choppy, was stupefying. Black on one side and a stark blue white on the other. There was no way it was real but the fade in the color looked so natural compared to many of the other two tone wigs Mahiru had seen that night that he couldn't be sure it hadn't been a hundred dollar dye job. "What kind of person spends that much money on a costume?"

He glanced down at his own clothing; a simple frock, tied with a sash, black satin pants, and knee high boots. His cape clasped securely around his shoulders, and a jaunty wide brimmed pointed hat was perched crookedly on his head. It may not be flashy but he was sure there was no doubt to be had about what he was.

Looking back up, he felt his heart drop when he found that the man had indeed slipped away into the crowd. Trying not to frown and wondering just what exactly was wrong with him, he started violently when a lilting voice trickled over his shoulder.

"Looking for me?"

He jerked around, sloshing a portion of his drink down his hand, to find himself face to face with the very man he had been casually stalking for the last ten minutes. "How did you-" He faltered, his eyes darting back to where the man had been before, a good hundred feet away. It hadn't been more than three seconds between when he'd looked down and back up. How in the world had he managed to navigate the crowds and cross the plaza in such a short amount of time?

"You were, weren't you?" The man asked excitedly, leaning farther forward, his eyes wide in pleasure. "I can tell."

"W-w-what are you-"

"Don't worry about details! That's not important!" He raised a hand, curling his fingers seductively around the air just next to Mahiru's cheek. "I have what you're looking for."

"I'm not looking for anything!" Mahiru burst out. "I have no idea what you're talking about! I just wanted to know if that was a wig."

The man's brows raised in shock and he darted a look up to the fringes of hair that tickled the bridge of his nose. "It's not a wig."

"Hah!" Mahiru pointed a finger at him. "I knew it!"

"Did you now?" He purred, tilting his head, heavy gaze traveling down Mahiru's neck and to the line of his shirt. "Aren't you a smart one? Then let's keep the games going, shall we?" As quick as a shot, he reached out and traced one cool, long finger across Mahiru's collar bone and grinned. "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" Mahiru asked blankly, trying to take a subtle step back. The finger still planted on his neck was distracting and numbing, as though a current were running through it. "I'm me."

The man leaned back in surprise, brows drawn up. "You're you?" He repeated hesitantly. "What kind of an answer is that? You were supposed to tell me your name."

"Well it was kind of a dumb question." Mahiru said jokingly, glancing around for an exit, willing this strange, annoying conversation to be over. "I mean, the answer is simple."

"I don't know the answer."

Mahiru turned back just a fraction, his drink and escape both forgotten as he stared into the wide and unsure lightning blue eyes staring right back at him. He could see his reflection, slightly distorted and washed of color by the storm of sky within the irises, and somewhere in his subconscious registered that he was looking rather disheveled and short.

"How do I find the answer?" The man asked, almost desperately, leaning forward and making to grab Mahiru's shoulders.

"How should I know?" He asked quickly, startled and more than a little worried. This man was turning out to be more complicated than he had expected; but the soft, vulnerable confusion rolling from the stranger in overpowering waves staid him and he sighed. "Why don't you list some of your interests and hobbies? Start from there. Then maybe your favorite places and people. Build your life around your relationships and experiences. That-" He broke off as the man darted forward, wrapping him in a hug so tight he heard a rib creak.

"That's exactly it! That's what I'll do! My hobbies, you say?" His eyes narrowed calculatingly and he grinned, a slow, feral thing. "I'll show you them right now~"

Before Mahiru could capture the breath to ask what the hell he was talking about, the man had released him and stepped back, glancing curiously around, as though looking for a particular vendor stall. His eyes lit upon the fireworks seller and his grin widened, taking on a kind of manic joy.

"Perfect."

"What-"

The man pressed a finger to his lips, his smile softening around the edges just so. "No, no. Don't worry about it. You'll see!" He took a quick step away but hesitated, struck by a thought. "My name. I can tell you that, at least. Kuro. I like you." The smile brightened for the barest moment and he pressed those twisted, smooth lips to Mahiru's cheek for the briefest second. "Mahiru~ Yes, I think I might like you."

Too late, Mahiru jerked back, unsure whether to be more upset by the abrupt kiss or the fact that this strange man somehow knew his name. He was sure he had never mentioned it, always painfully aware of what his uncle had drilled into his head on 'stranger danger'. "How did you-"

"I said no questions!" The man barked before frowning and turning away. "Stay there." And with that he darted off, through the crowds, winding like a snake through reeds.

For some reason Mahiru found himself staying where he was, curious to see what this strange person- Kuro, his brain supplied belatedly- was going to do. He couldn't delude himself into thinking he was being flirted with, despite the forward approach that Kuro had, it just didn't seem possible. And he was undoubtedly foreign, of European descent most likely, given the long hair and bright, clear eyes, so it must just be a cultural difference. Comforted by his conclusions, Mahiru leaned back, crossing his ankles and waited.

The wait was short.

Across the busy road a sudden explosion rocked the air, it's fires spreading from the fireworks stall and outward like a hot flower opening its petals to the night sky. Screams and calls further disturbed the fragile atmosphere and it was several seconds before Mahiru registered that he was on the ground, almost unconscious and bleeding from more places than seemed safe. Trying to raise up on his hands, to get a look around, to see if he could help, his vision blurred and wavered. Dizzy and faintly nauseated, he slumped back down, his cheek pressing into the gritty cement of the walk. The sharp pricks of rocks brought a little feeling back into his numb face and he drew a deep breath. A shadow pressed in on him and he glanced up, relief and panic fighting for equal purchase, but both quelled and fell back, buffeted by his surprise.

Above him, smiling sunnily, stood Kuro, unmarked but for a dash of soot across his forehead. "Pretty good right?"

Mahiru worked his jaw, struggling valiantly to summon some form of response, willing his sudden rage, for he now had a very clear image of what had happened, to give him strength. "Did you do this?!" He exclaimed, squinting up. 

"Of course I did!" Kuro looked confused and squatted down, bringing him almost level with Mahiru who was still floundering on the ground. "You told me to start with my hobbies!"

"I- I-" Mahiru cut off, winded by both his bruised and bleeding lungs and his immense disbelief. "This isn't a hobby! Did anyone get hurt?!"

"You did." Kuro pointed out neutrally.

"Of course I did!" Mahiru yelled. "You blew up the fireworks stall!"

For the first time Kuro looked slightly angry, his lips tilted in displeasure, and he leaned farther down, closer, until the curtain of his unnatural hair was blanketing Mahiru's face. "For you."

“For me?” Clarity was returning to his mind in short bursts and jagged leaps and he slowly, slowly pushed himself up, wincing when his wrist flared a warning. “I never asked you to.”

“Do you need to?” Kuro asked worriedly, biting his lip, eyes darting around in an almost panic. “I didn’t know that. I just thought-”

“You’re insane, aren’t you?” Mahiru muttered, at this point numb to any real fear. “Or is this some elaborate Halloween prank?” He glanced around, hoping without any real hope, to see Koyuki or Sakuya lurking in the outskirts of the pandemonium and laughing at his folly. "Please tell me that Ryusei put you up to this."

"Who is that?" Kuro glared down at him, leaning still closer, the corners of his eyes crinkled in a quiet kind of anger. "Is he your 'friend'?"

Mahiru paused, watching Kuro grow ever more irritated, and contemplated the way he had stumbled over the word friend. It had rolled and fallen from his lips as though it were a foreign concept, something he had only read about and never actually seen in person. "Yes. He is." He said it more as a taunt than anything else, just to see if it would incense Kuro any more than he already was, and was not disappointed; Kuro's nose wrinkled and he bared what Mahiru, from this distance, could see without a doubt, despite a complete lack of belief in the superstitious, were real fangs.

"I'll kill him."

Surrealism floated down like a gentle mist, coating his tingling limbs and swirling thoughts, and Mahiru rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a baby. What did Ryusei ever do to you?"

The question gave Kuro pause and he cocked his head, studying Mahiru intently. "He met you first."

"And?"

"And?"

"So have a lot of people. Are you going to go around killing anyone who's ever said hi to me?"

Kuro opened his mouth, no doubt to confirm the sarcastic, rhetoric question but closed it again at the look Mahiru threw him.

"Please. That's unrealistic. And extremely inappropriate." He added as an afterthought.

"Inappropriate...." Kuro echoed, looking shell shocked. "I didn't know."

Mahiru raised a brow in blatant disbelief, flinching back when Kuro suddenly reached out and scooped him up into his arms. "Wha-!"

"You'll have to explain exactly what is 'appropriate' then!" He continued excitedly. "I don't particularly like being wrong but I suppose if it's what you want, I'll do it. You seem like the tiresome kind of guy who won't accept anything but adherence to your own strict set of morals."

"Do- do what?" Mahiru stuttered distractedly, eyes focused on the ground which was steadily flashing by as Kuro dashed off through the bustling plaza, ignoring the panicked gasps of the emergency workers and few still lingering civilians, cradling Mahiru as though he were but a sack of flower and feather light. "Please just-"

Kuro grinned down at him, seemingly unaware of the terror that was racing up and down Mahiru's spine at the speed and sudden kidnapping. "Be appropriate." He enunciated stiffly. "I'll try." His eyes danced, happy and bright, and buoyed by a depth less madness.

"Oh god." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pictured: a transition of destructive mischief 

[skiesdweller]

It's not about glamour it’s about guts.

1 | Solo | Form my childhood I was attracted to aeroplanes of all kinds, largely due to family. My Grandfather was US Navy Pilot shot down over Vietnam.

My father was an Aviator with USAF and has flown B-52 Stratofortress and presently a successful airlines company CEO and Chairman. Now it was my turn. They say Fighter Pilots are not born, they are built and this is place where they make them Naval Air Station Kingsville

The Advanced flight training starts with a 900 page manual of F/A 18 he first Fighter Jet I will qualify on. Here we have already done our Introductory flight screening (IFS)

and Primary flight training. It also includes Centrifuge tests which simulates the conditions of stress and gravity inside fighter aircraft. The tighter the turn, harder the gravity pushes on him,  which in technically called pulling Gs. And fighter jets do it more brutally than any machine on earth At 2G a 200 pound man can easily feel twice his weight. Take it upto 5g and the flight suit feels like 1000 pounds of lead. Once you start pulling Gs its like bench pressing your chest, everything is pulling down and its very hard to breathe. Under G load blood drains from the head and pools in the legs leading to tunnel vision or verse G lock i.e G induced loss of consciousness. Survival depends on mastering the Anti G Straining Manoeuvre, the trick is - tense the leg and stomach muscle so as to prevent the blood from hitting south.  And to breathe in short quick burst. Abs tight, but tight and lift yourself from the seat. The G suite that I was introduced too basically had bladders in thigh muscle and abdomen which inflate under G forces at varying pressure to squish your lower extremities to keep the blood in your head. But for centrifuge test, the suit will not inflate, I need to prove that I can sustain high G forces completely on my own. I had to complete a series of tests culminating in 8Gs for 15 long seconds. My turn I witnessed the heavy pressure and pull, it was difficult to breathe but I heard be “aggressive.. be aggressive” clearly and altered my pace likewise. When I finished it I was already a little white but I passed it. Good Stuff, the instructor commented. Two veteran pilots lost the test. One at 8 seconds and the most experience at 14 seconds. So being a pilot is no guarantee you will qualify. So Mike lost by just one second, its harsh but it would be fatal in F/A 18  rushing towards ground at hundreds of miles an hour. It took Mike 3 seconds to recover but that threes seconds is the time a fighter pilot does not have, especially if he supersonic. It could mean entering in enemy territory, getting shot by sam for failure to evade, or crashing. None of which is acceptable. Mike will have another shot at this test. I was in for my next challenge. The Seat from hell. The Fighter pilot’s ticket to survival. In a F/A 18  it is Martin-Baker Mk.14 NACES (Naval Aircrew Ejection Seat ). These seats are fitted in 200 fixed-wing and rotary types with the most recent being the Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II programme.

A pilot is snared in belts and buckles, four straps for the leg another six for the torso, pin a pilot to the seat during violent manoeuvres. They also prevent him from being torn apart if he has to eject. The Ejection seat may be a pilot’s lifeline but it will be most violent and terrifying rescue imaginable. Pilot and seat literally explode out of airplane, when they are clear, another charge blows the seat belts and deploys the parachute. It all happens in just two seconds. One of my greatest fears was having to parachute in open waters and its is critical to know exactly what to do in first few seconds after hitting the war. So as test I had get free from the harness after been thrown into Olympic pool before I get to pulled to the pool. Then get out from under the canopy before it pulls me under. 

It was easy in the pool but imagine it in freezing Atlantic water. At this point everything I do is making life and death decisions automatic. After learning to survive and passing this phase and before spending time in a real cockpit of F/A 18 I will have to spend hours in simulator. Instructors throwing emergency after emergency, while I struggle to keep up, but eventually these procedures will be seared into my brain. While others went for Lunch one day I made a beeline for an open cockpit. I was going to save sitting in fighter aircraft for my first flight but there was too much to know. At the top of my list were critical emergencies that require a pilot to react instantly, the so called RED PAGES. In a machine as complex as F/A 18,  failures are inevitable. Red Pages emergencies are inherently fatal. Things like Engine Fire that will cripple the jet; A fuel leak, Landing gear failure or a cockpit that suddenly fills with smoke, blinding the Pilot. Better to know where the switch is, if a lot has to think before acting in these situations, he will be hole in ground before he remembers the answer because if you are in supersonic fighter the question is not if the trouble will find you but when. In a life of fighter pilot there are no secrets, even if there is, there is always a witness. Every time a fighter aircraft leaves the ground the mission is tapped. The Heads up Display or HUD shows the pilot things like Speed, Altitude and G Forces. Everything a pilot sees is recorded and everything he says. Also my ride I discovered I had a companion, a computer one, and soon discovered that fighter pilots call it bitching Betty. More common are the troubles that a pilot runs into when he pushes the jet too far. The same traits that make fighter jets agile and manoeuvrable also make them extremely twitchy   When they are driven to the limit. Once the plane looses control it will not be safe to control it until it reaches certain speed in situation where the plane does not reach that speed, all a pilot can do is take hands off the controls and wait, it’s ultimate faith and belief in a machine. The instructor talking about his experience when he recovered 2000 ft above ground and 3 seconds from oblivion. His HUD was a case study. This is the stuff we live for. Living life on the edge. Anyone can shoot bullets, but only few can call themfselves fighter pilots. The first test was pushing all of us Aviators to the limit. Last minute brushing up of details, sleep deprivation, stress. Unlike other exams in this exam the pass mark is 100%. For instructors demanding perfection is not unreasonable, it’s personal. After having cleared the test and surfing three weeks, it was time for some celebrations No G suites today, instead, I was siting up for our official welcoming party. Being a fighter pilot isn’t a job, It’s Life Walking through Air Worthiness check of F/A 18, every Pilot must know by heart. There are 155 checks before one even climbs into cockpit. When you sign on to fly jets it means a life time of sacrifice. Suiting up for F/A 18, is like gearing up for super bowl, it makes everything else you have flown seem like training wheels. And it was about to happen the first flight in Fighter Aircraft, but first I had to prove I have memorised the external safety checks, all 155 of them. Covering Everything from mechanical to animal. Then there are another 194 cockpit checks. As I climbed up the cockpit ladder, I was feeling a soft breeze behind my neck, a feeling of something important about to happen, a feeling one cannot imagine.After 194 checks, I had to 76 more checks before I even started the engine. And starting the engines involves 45 more, I felt I could get old waiting around for this. An Experienced Fighter pilot can knock off the whole work in under 5 minutes. Student Naval Aviators like me usually take three quarters of an hour. I took 38 minutes on my first and It was situation where I could not afford to make a mistake. My instructor in back seat is watching like a hawk. And Upfront the Heads Up Display (HUD) tape is recording every move I make and everything I say. “ All Set, 222 Taking Off my” first ever Fighter Callsign on a Fighter Aircraft. “Show me your Stuff man” The Air Controller replied to my information.”  Pressing the throttle forward, this was the moment I have been waiting all my life. As the afterburners lit the tarmac up. “Nozzles Good , 100 Knots and takeoff”

“Good Job” The instructor sitting behind me said as the wheels left the tarmac. “All’s Up regain 220” Right away I was expected to master the basics. “I will try a roll” And I did.. Yeehaa..I could not control my excitement. “I’m gonna do one more.” My instructor just laughed. Rolls, Climbs, Stall Even though I was getting the most thrilling experience of my life, instructors were looking for discipline and level headed guy which is required in combat and it was just business for us. But at this stage, flying is an easy part, for an inexperienced pilot bringing an F/A 18 back to earth is the most dangerous and difficult part of the flight. For  44 years F/A 18 has proven its ability in combat theatres around the world. And it is dual engine plane, only experienced pilots gets to touch them and qualified ones get to fly them. It is whole lot different than F-16, but in hands a SNA  ( Naval Aviator) on windy day it can also be treacherous. On the HUD on the left was the E bracket which tells the pilot, plane’s angle on landing, how high the nose is, E bracket helps insure a smooth landing.  I landed a little harder than my instructor would have liked but I got it done without drama, and completed it successfully. After very flight there is a debriefing. This course is marathon and we athletes/ pilots have just begun our race. There are never enough serviceable jets and never enough time. One of the exercise I did was practise engine restart, the drill is straightforward, shutdown one engine, accelerate to 350 knots and relight it, at that speed air is driving the compressor like a windmill, so when the engine is reignited the turbines are moving fast enough to blow the heated air out of exhaust. If You fly too slow in this exercise, the hot air blast will be trapped and engine will overheat. Two cadets made a mistake, Mike was flying too slow so he had to do emergency landing with only one engine. The engine was unhinged and taken to sick bay for inspection, luckily for Mark, it did not suffer any damage. For Tim his missioned was cancelled as he dropped his ball pen into cockpit. That 10 pence plastic could jeopardise the entire flight safety, so the plane was rotunded till the pen was found. That means somebody else does not get to fly, due to Tim’s mistake. So around here we have rule, one pilot’s mistake is everyone’s lesson. Time for Solo flight, for pilots, they count their flying hours, for me this was hour one, minute one for a solo flight. “Alright Nose and Wheel Sten is up. I’m good to go” “Cleared to Take Off” Came the reply. That was what we had all prepared for Solo Sortie “EGT, Fuel Flow Nozzle, oil is good, Going to burner, Here we go Lift off” And I was wheels up in the climb “Gear flags up, 220” “Eat your heart out..this is fucking awesome”..I commented up in air. It was my first solo flight, at 20000 Feet. If anything goes wrong help I long far away.The Mission went smoothly I did all the patterns I had to complete and pulled in a little extra and landed safely. Right before Thunderstorms filled the sky. Flight Tradition Dictates that the a Pilot goes solo, he earns himself a callsign - a nickname that symbolises his identity. Squadron tradition demands a well stocked bar and well used gun barrel from nose of a jet. Getting a call sign is like Christening there it was “Hammer” and I had no say in it, and it was decided by mob rule by Instructors. Only in movies you get cool callusing like “Maverick” and “Iceman” here In this batch I was lucky.  

[mr-entj]

Hi Mr-ENTJ, Love your blog- I’ve been reading it the past two years and it’s been a real inspiration! I’m an ESTP currently in medical school, and in two months I’m moving from the preclinical part, pass-fail part to the clinical, graded part in the hospital. I was wondering if you had any tips (whether for ESTPs or in general) on moving from a school based environment to a more workplace based one where you have no idea what’s happening.

I’m glad the blog’s been useful, thanks for visiting. I have general advice (not MBTI specific) on this below.

Tips on transitioning from school to the workplace

1. It’s not about you anymore. In school, assignments are solo projects that you can work on at all times of the day. If you want to pull an all-nighter and send something 5 minutes before the due date, then cool. If you want to half ass an essay, then cool. If want to completely blow off a test, then cool. It’s only your ass and your grades on the line. At work, this isn’t the case because everyone’s asses are on the line and there’s a chain reaction that takes place. For example, if you’re a doctor and you don’t finish updating the patient’s records then the nursing department can’t discharge the patient and then the billing department can’t process the medical bill and then patient can’t pay the bill and then hospital can’t bill the insurance and then the insurance can’t pay the hospital and then the hospital won’t have money to pay the employees. Your actions have consequences on other people in the workplace. If your actions have no consequences on other people in the workplace, then you’re ignorant of those consequences or you’re in a low-paying job that’ll soon be replaced by robots.

As an example, I once had a chronic procrastinator Senior Manager who was often late with his work and terrorized his team with late night calls and last minute fire drills. He ruined countless birthdays, dinner dates, evenings, and weekends with his sloppy work ethic and disregard for other people’s schedules. This finally culminated in him screwing over one of my superstar Muslim colleagues by dropping a last minute assignment in the middle of Ramadan that forced her to break her fast. She quit the firm soon after. This is why deadlines exist-- other people have their own lives, their own plans, and their own priorities. Respect them.

Be a good teammate by sticking to deadlines, keeping your commitments, and making every effort to help others. Mind your team, colleagues, and clients/patients/customers. Think of others. This will serve you well beyond the start of your career and all throughout your life.

2. Knowledge is not a substitute for experience. More applicable to intuitives and less applicable to you because you’re a sensor. You can’t read your way through life. You can certainly learn abstract theory and do research to prepare for workplace scenarios but knowledge has to applied to be useful and skills need to be practiced to be mastered. Period. There’s a reason why doctors need to complete a residency before being set loose unsupervised on patients, I sure as hell wouldn’t want a brain surgeon operating on me who had only read about doing the procedure in a book or through videos without actually having successful and tangible results. The best way to learn is to do so do a lot and don’t be afraid to try because grades and test scores won’t be closely monitored moving forward. You only lose if you don’t try.

3. Be proactive, always. School has a curriculum where materials are prepared and taught to you. The workplace does not. You will learn through actively engaging your environment, making mistakes, and seeking out answers to fill gaps in your knowledge. If you don’t have a clue-- get one. Go talk to someone, Google it, read a book, but don’t be content with ignorance especially if it’s a skill that’s crucial to know in your field. Life won’t tell you what you need to know, but it will expose what knowledge you lack and not in the nicest of ways. Find mentors and seniors who have already walked the path you’re currently on, it’ll give great insight into what to expect.

4. Interpersonal skills are just as important as technical skills. Patience is a virtue for a reason: people are unreasonable, illogical, and sometimes completely batshit crazy in this world. If you can’t grow thick skin to deal with difficult people, every day of work (and life) will feel like a torture chamber. In the medical field especially, remember to pause and put yourself in your patients’ shoes. I’d encourage you to explore classes on effective communication and skills that aren’t necessarily covered in medical school but are required for the medical field. This holds true for any profession. You can’t avoid people, you have to learn to deal with them.

5. People not in your field bring fresh perspectives. It tends to be the case that doctors associate with doctors, scientists with scientists, artists with artists, lawyers with lawyers, etc. Have a diverse group of friends in multiple fields to hang out with, bounce ideas off of, and give you an opportunity to detach from your work for a breath of fresh air. They’ll expose you to different ways of thinking outside the norm, insight into other industries and opportunities outside your field, and keep you in touch with the rest of the world outside of your area of expertise. 

[kyberphilosopher]

Seven: Chapter Ten

ChaP^ter T3n 

         It feels really good to watch Cal chew Celeste out.

          He’s been doing it for 6 minutes and 38 seconds now. Practically nonstop. Even with the door to the break room closed, you can hear Cal’s muffled yelling through the glass. Not that you’d need to hear the conversation to know he’s upset, but still.

          It is currently 9:47 pm. The only people left in the precinct are us and Officer Blackwell, who stands guard near the entrance awkwardly. He cringes every time Cal raises his voice, which makes me even happier. I sit at Cal’s desk, upright and proper while trying to keep my patient smile off my face. My hands ball and unball themselves against my knees anxiously.

          Cal is completely furious. You should’ve seen him in the car ride back here. Absolutely fuming, he gave Celeste the dirtiest look I’d ever seen and snapped at her. Fuming, he yelled “Why didn’t you cover the exits?!” while Celeste’s overly glossed lips struggled to form an excuse or words of any kind. The tension in the car after that was so thick, you could’ve cut it with a knife. We all sat in silence though. Celeste had a trembling lip, I had a hidden smile, and Cal had one hand on his head while he neared having a heart attack. He sort of looks like he’s about to have a heart attack now.

          “I asked you to do this one thing… Are you a fucking moron? I… The Android even knew what to…” are snippets of his yelling that comes out more clear. Celeste stands silently, still looking like a painted whore and trying not to collapse in on herself or yell back.

          It’s 9:53 when the yelling stops. Cal throws the break room door open, storming outside, still fuming. Celeste stays in the room, turned away from me to hide her shame. I stand up as Cal approaches, at the ready for anything he may need.

          “Can you believe her?” he says loudly, too angry to realize he’s actually talking to me willingly. “I mean I give her one job and she just blows it off, completely costing us the whole fucking operation!”

          “It’s my fault too,” I offer, a little nervous. My hands meet each other behind my back, playing with the others fingers in anticipation. “I should’ve been faster.”

          Cal’s piercing gaze meets my eyes crisply. Despite his increased heartrate, I can tell his sharpness is out of intensity instead of rage.

          “No, you saved my life,” he says, almost like a promise. “We would’ve caught them if it weren’t for Celeste.”

          There’s a silent exchange between us then. A wordless agreement, a quiet thank you. Cal isn’t aggressive towards me because I’m an Android. It’s almost like he’s talking to another person, and he’s grateful that they saved him in peril. Cal walks past me and takes something from his desk. I don’t turn around to look, instead taking the opportunity to run a quick diagnostic. I am in optimal condition.

          “You gonna be hear in the morning?” Cal says from behind me.

          “I believe so, though there’s always a chance for unlikely things to occur.”

          “Like what? An Android snatcher sneaking in?” Cal chuckles to himself quietly. I keep the recording of it in my memories, because it’s the first time I’ve heard Cal chuckle and I like how musical it seems.

          “Always a chance,” I repeat.

          “Guess so.” Cal closes his door with a muted slam and fumbles with his clanking keychain. “Night Tin Fuck.”

          “Goodnight,” I mean to say with a friendly tone. It comes out hoarsely, like someone whose insatiably nervous.

          I watch Cal walk away for the night, out the doors and past my field of vision. Then, it is just me and Celeste Amora, who is trying to contain her tears in the break room.

          I don’t feel like standing upright while I power myself down. Instead, I go around to my desk and sit down in the chair. I use my arms as a sort of cushion for my head. This is something I’ve seen humans do when they’re very tired. I’ve seen Cal come close to doing so once or twice, but he never does. He just sips his coffee with a zombie-like expression on his face.

          I let my led cycle yellow and my vision go black.

          “Aleksandra,” she greets coldly. Her outfit is white today, and she’s turned away from me. Of course she is. I still can’t manage to enter into our scape the correct direction.

          “Hello, Adelicia.”

          She says nothing to me for 37 seconds.

          “How would you say your investigation is going?”

          “It’s progressing,” I say slowly. I can feel her disapproval, her frustration, her patient demeanor expand with my words. “I’m learning a lot about the Exceptions.”

          “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve learned?” Her voice is so cold and sinister. She’s challenging me. Has she seen my memories? No. No she couldn’t have. But… there’s always a chance.

          “I’ve learned that many Exception Androids seem to go astray because of an emotional shock. A child model that killed its parents showed signs of PTSD from a history or memory of sexual abuse.”

          “What else have you learned?”

          “The Exception Androids I’ve encountered have all chosen to hide immediately after their deviation. The child model stayed in a closed shower, and two others squatted in abandoned buildings. It’s like… it’s like they want to avoid confrontation.”

          “Merely an emulation of fear,” Adelicia tells me.

          “Of course.”

          For some reason, I begin to compare Adelicia to a rose. I’ve seen her in every shade a rose can take- white, red, yellow, blue- all of them in the form of a pantsuit or blazer and skirt. She’s pale and prim and proper, with elegant manners and a tone like ice. Her mind, sharp as ever, never stops working. But like a beautiful rose, her thorns jut out and slice open your thumb whether you’re expecting it or not. You may think you’ve said the right thing, over for her disapproval to nick you and make you bleed. Beautiful, but dangerous, Adelicia is all too similar to the overly sweet flower.

          “And your relationship with Detective Kennedy?”

          “I-he… He seemed grateful I saved his life.”

          Adelicia whirls around to face me. “Grateful?” she hisses, like a cat who doesn’t want to be stroked any longer. “I wasn’t aware you had saved his life. When did this happen?”

          Don’t answer. Don’t answer. Don’t answer. “Tonight. He was going to fall from a building. I helped him up.”

          “I see.” The disappointment oozes from her tone like poison. I’ve been noticing that more and more lately. “Aleksandra, if you don’t make progress in your mission by Christmas, I will consider replacing you.”

          Something in my biocomponent sparks. Immediately, the word ‘no!’ pops into my brain in response to her words. It’s almost like… it’s almost like I don’t want to be replaced. I don’t want to be shut down.

          But there’s a problem with this line of thinking. I don’t ‘want’ anything. I’m an Android. I am completely replaceable and the idea shouldn’t bother me.

          That’s what I decide to tell Adelicia. “For the sake of the mission, that might be best. I am of no importance and the investigation should come first.”

          Adelicia’s features soften in their own way. Like a wash of approval finally comes over her at my words. Her pupils dilate slightly, her shoulders wearing down in a type of relaxation. Despite this, her grey eyes are cold and steady, frozen like the rest of her.

          “You have until Christmas.”

          I open my eyes. This time, it is not a smooth, swift and soft motion. It is startled, almost clumsy as I do so. I’m certain my led runs red with it.

          It’s 4:17am. I can see the darkness of the sky outside, and a faint sprinkle of stars dotting above. The moon is still visible up high, like a shiny, vanilla colored crescent. It’s going to rain soon. A dark purple color will fill the sky and replace the midnight blue currently present, and the sun will rise in the east.

          I sit up, not taking my arms from their position on my desk. It seems so… calm. Calm and quiet. Even with the occasional airplane overhead, and the distant sound of drills and smoke and party music, it’s a silent night. I can see the space needle, and water and even a faint picture of mountains way in the distance. Skyscrapers and other sleek buildings stand tall in the landscape.

          Today is Tuesday, October 19th. The temperature today will be 48 degrees Fahrenheit, with suspected showers in the morning. The day after tomorrow, Cal will turn 27 years old. I wonder if he’s excited about it.

          It dawns on me now that I am still wearing my stakeout outfit. My hat had fallen off in my sleep, but my jacket and jeans and shirt are all still present. I put the beanie back easily and turn my attention elsewhere. The leather of my baggy coat is still warm with Cal’s scent. The black turtleneck would’ve gotten itchy against human skin by now, but I don’t mind at all. It’s soft to me.

          I watch the sky for a little while. I really, really like it. I like it even more when at 4:28am, drops of rain start hitting the windows outside. It’s not strong, like bullets or hail, but gentle, like flower petals. It’s so lovely, wonderful even.

          Somewhere, above the moon and the stars, some humans believe there’s a heaven. Supposedly, the clouds there roll in shades of brilliant, blinding whites, pale oranges and rose pinks. The sun rises in the West and sets in the East, and the moon appears as lilac and periwinkle. You can see the planets and all the planets moons. There are corners with lush greens and trees so tall you’ll never see the tops, and others with white sand beaches with jade waves and jewels buried deep down. The sky changes colors depending on the angle, like an Opal. There is no real end, only serenity and breathing.

          I would very much like to see this thing someday, because the humans all describe it so beautifully. But this heaven is only attainable after death, and I doubt there’s a heaven for Androids.

          I push myself out of my chair, and shuffle down the way to the elevator. I push the button for the roof and begin up. The sultry elevator voice tells me I’ve arrived and the doors slide open smoothly, revealing the dank hallway I remember. It hasn’t changed since the last time I was here, and all the trash and other effects are still in place. I’m about to step out, but then I press the button to go back down. Cue the voice alerting me of my destination, cue the doors opening. The next time I press the up button, I’m holding a small, dark trash bag in my right hand.

          I clean everything in the hallway to the roof. Beer bottles, chip bags, a handful of old light blue pills in the corner. They all disappear down the trash bag, which I tie up and leave by the door. When I emerge outside, the biting air hits my synthetic skin. I don’t react to it in the slightest.

          After 43 seconds, I walk to the edge of the building, and sit. My legs dangle over the side, hanging over the pavement below. The rain drops spring and pop on my shoulders. My hat protects my hair from getting damp. Petrichor fills my nose and I’m drowning in the smell of spring. In contrast, the Autumn leaves in the distance are falling in orange, brown, and crimson dots.

          And, maybe for the first time ever, the city of Seattle is still. It all reminds me of a painting- perhaps one that Cal Kennedy himself has painted.

          I doubt there’s a heaven for Androids.

Software Instability^^

     At 10:03am, I move myself from my position. The sun has risen, the rain slowly ceasing out. Several officers and detectives have entered the building, ready to start their day. I even see Captain Ericson share a kiss with his husband while his two children sit with earphones in the backseat.      

          I rouse myself up and grab the trash bag. When I get back to the main floor and the bullpin, there is a man sitting at Cal’s desk. The man is, in fact, Cal. This takes my by surprise. He’s never been this early before. Still, I put the trash bag in the bin by the break room before making my way over.

          A few steps away, I pause. Cal doesn’t have a coffee cup with him today, and his form is more hunched than usual. He must be exhausted. I turn around before he notices me, return to the inside of the glass room and poor him a cup of steaming black coffee. I put a top on so he doesn’t sip it too fast and burn his tongue, and then carry it out to him.

          I put the cup on his desk softly, as to not alarm him. The Detective looks up at me, and his eyes are glinting in the light.

          “Didn’t I tell you I hated you?” he croaks tiredly. His voice is husky and slightly sleepy, but I don’t mind. It’s low enough for only me to hear it in the commotion of the plaza.

          “Multiple times.”

          Cal breathes out with a quick smirk. “And you’re still bringing me coffee?” I don’t say anything, because he seems like he has something more to tell me. “For a bunch of freaks who seem to be demanding freedom, you sure do like slavery.”

          “I bring you coffee because I want to,” I correct, quickly. Cal’s eyes dance with curiosity at my statement. “At least… I think I do.”

          His eyes look me up and down. I like it, I think. “You’re still wearing those old clothes?” he half asks, half observes.

          “So are you,” I counter. Though slightly wrinkled, he is still dawning his dark blue shirt and normal brown jacket.

          Just like last night, there is a silent exchange between us. We can both pretend that Cal’s hostility towards me doesn’t exist for the moment. His still eyes are nearly kind, and his lips are soft and slightly upturned in a relaxed way. I reciprocate, making note of all the little details on his face. He has a freckle I never noticed before, under the right side of his jaw. His face is slightly more clean shaven today, though not by much. It seems stubble and five o’clock shadow are his signature look. I don’t mind, because it suits him and he looks handsome, just rough.

          After 10 seconds, I turn away and walk to the other side, seating myself in my desk.

          Throughout the rest of the morning, Cal and I share a few words.

          “Did you sleep well last night?” I ask as he sips the coffee.

          “Yeah,” he replies. He then gives me a rather unexpected line of dialogue. “You?”

          Androids don’t really ‘sleep’, though I suppose what I was doing was the equivalent. Even so, it wasn’t my most friendly encounter. The more I encounter Adelicia in my thoughts or even just in the white room, the more icy she becomes to me.

          “Yes,” I lie.

          A few minutes later, we have another verbal interaction.

          “I have not seen Officer Amora this morning,” I say aloud. I meant it mainly to myself as I glance around the room, but Cal heard.

          “Yeah, me either.”

          I lean forward on my shoulders, my curiosity taking the best of me. “I don’t mean to impede,” I begin slowly. “But what exactly is your relationship with Officer Amora?”

          Cal rubs the back of his neck like he has a crick in it. I can tell he’s thinking of an answer, because maybe he doesn’t even know himself. “Heh,” he chuckles shortly. “Well there certainly is one.”

          “I-I just mean..” don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it Aleks. “She seems a little… bitchy.”

          Cal freezes in place, watching me. I’m scared for a moment that whatever relation he and I have is ruined, all because I ignored my Social Relations program. But then a smirk smile spreads across his face. His brows ease up and his eyes sparkle with charisma. A quick laugh escapes from his lips.

          With that, my own features soften. My shoulders ease as the tension melts away, and a smirk of my own emerges on my lips.           “Well, you’re certainly not wrong,” Cal says lightheartedly as he looks back at his computer.

          I watch Cal sip his coffee between our short bursts of dialogue. As time goes on, he does seem to come more alive with the caffeine. He types faster, opens his eyes more, takes shorter blinks. The darkness and bags under his eyes don’t just evaporate into thin air, they remain, but I can’t define how I feel about them.

          I don’t think I like that they mean he lacks a healthy sleeping schedule. But I do think I like how much character they add to his outward appearance. He looks entirely unique from everyone else here, maybe everyone else I’ve ever seen. He lacks a uniform, a clean image. He doesn’t mind just being. I wouldn’t understand that. It’s far too outside of my programming.

          At 12:10, Cal disrupts the air of silence between us.

          “Hey,” he mutters. His eyes are averted, stuck to something on his desk nervously. “I uh… I wanted to thank you. About yesterday, I mean.”

          I know he really didn’t like saying that. I run my tongue along my lips inside my mouth, nodding my head sincerely. I can’t help the words that fall from my lips after that. “Of course.”

          “No I mean you… you didn’t have to do it. You choose me over the… never mind.”

          I’ll never forget it. One, because I physically can’t, unless my memory gets corrupted. Two, because I think it’s important for me to remember. Still, the only thing more to that conversation is a quiet “sure” from me.          

          “Actually, I did want to ask you something.”

          Cal looks in my eyes this time. They’re not as relaxed or lighthearted as they were, and his eyebrows are more scrunched down in their usual position. Still pleasant enough to look at according to the golden ratio, though.

          “I was going to ask Celeste but, well- you know…”

          I dip my head slightly, urging him to continue.

          “My birthday’s in a few days and I’m going to see my father.”

          “You mentioned that. Your brother too, correct?”

          “Yeah,” Cal clears his throat with a cough. “Well, my father’s been bugging me to get a girlfriend and I was wondering it you’d… you know… come along?”

          My led flashes red so fast you wouldn’t be able to see it. But then it goes yellow as I try to make sense of the proposition. “You mean as your girlfriend?”

          “No- kind of. Like a fake girlfriend. To trick my family for the night.” Cal watches my led as an indication as to my answer. He’s so anxious about this. I can see his heart rate only increase. “You can say no,” he adds quickly.

Registering Request…

Creating Pro and Con List…

Pro and Con List Created.

          “I can do that,” I tell him. “It’s no trouble. I will have to research things that girlfriends do, however.”  

          “Fine, that’s…” Cal waves his hand, leaning back in his chair. His heart rate decreases, slowly but surely. “That’s fine.”

          My led stays yellow. I can’t define the feeling in my biocomponents, sparking against my synthetic skin and making the fake hair on my arm stand on end. Anxiety? Anticipation? Anguish? Or just plain Aleks?

          “My dad lives in Spokane, so we’ll have to take a half day tomorrow.”

          My led swirls green as I confirm my schedule. “I have no issues with that.” A new idea runs into my mechanical brain though. “I don’t have any suitable clothes, however.”

          Cal lets out a joking scoff. “Clearly.”

          “Hey, this is your jacket,” I retort.

          “And it looks better on me,” he quips slyly. I wonder if he’s forgotten I’m an Android when he jokes with me like this, if he’s so focused on the comedic value he doesn’t care who it’s with. Maybe that’s what everyone who hasn’t shown hostility towards me have been like. Shovelman, Tom, even that woman who smiled at me- Sophia. Were they so intent on being themselves and being in the moment that they didn’t register how different we are? Or is it because they were so aware of our differences that it was a sort of mercy to show me a kindness. I know Cal isn’t doing the latter, but maybe the others were.

          “That’s your opinion,” I decide to say jokingly, typing something into my computer with a smug look on my face. I didn’t even realize it was there until the memory of Cal making the same expression comes to mind. I must’ve learned it from him without realizing.

          “You know, if you’re going to be my girlfriend, you’re going to have to be nicer than that.”

I doubt there’s a heaven for Androids.

Software Instability ^

taglist: @omg-we-really-doo​

hope you enjoy, S. happy fourth.

[charlybradburry]

The Taco Bell Fiasco

Theme: Crack

Characters: Dean; Myin (jupp that’s that awesome girl that helps me when I can’t find the strength to write; you can find her here: @myinconnelly1) and Josy (oofc; aka me)

Writing Prompt: Are you banned from all Taco Bells, or just that Taco Bell? 

Summary: Dean picked up two hunters. When he wants to stop at a Taco Bell he gets a story to hear.

Warnings: Mentions of nudity, alcohol consume, unbetaed

Wordcount: ~1,600

Dean had never had that many ladies in the Impala until today. Of course there had been great sex on the back seat but this time it was two giggling women inside and he had to admit it…it was fucking annoying. But he still enjoyed the laughs that filled the little cabin. Next to him there was Myin, the older one but also the “little” one, hell if he had to decide which one he should call “kid” it would definitely be her, she barely reached his armpit even when her fluffy brown hair was in this floppy messy bun of hers. She had a cheerful, friendly attitude towards him the moment he had entered their case. Josephine…well she preferred to be called Josy – on the other hand had been pretty gruff towards him. Telling him to get lost the second he set foot inside the police department, somehow immediately being able to tell he was just like them and having this intimidating look on her face. The redhead was rough around the edges, with 6’0 foot almost as tall as him and the younger one of the two. But she was slowly thawing now that they were sitting in his car after their car had broken down on their way out of the city.

“So Winchester! We already know a lot about you and your brother, even though I thought you would be taller, but is there anything you wanna know about us?” Myin flashed him this open mouthed smile that hadn’t left her face since she sat down on the front seat. Josy in the background knitted her eyebrows and shook her head slightly at her friend. He huffed a little and then saw the sign. “Well there’s a lot I wanna ask you two, like hell of a lot. So why not stop here and discuss this over lunch?” Heck it might be taco bell and that wasn`t anywhere close to a great bacon cheese burger but he was hungry and it would do the job. He pulled over and drove onto the parking lot. The girls just gave each other a look. “Oh you better believe he’ll ask the question. It always comes up” Josy had a half smirk on her lips the slight accent he couldn’t put his finger on just now making it sound somehow even more sarcastic.

“Ask what exactly?” Dean asked a brow lifted while killing the engine. The youngster got an evil smile on her lips looking at her friend. “Yeah Myin? Ask what exactly? Or you wanna dive right in?” Myin started to play with her hand the second she had heard Deans offer. “I…well actualy Josy, both of us can’t enter that restaurant really…” “Hey! I was just stuck with you! It wasn’t exactly my fault! What funsize is trying to explain to you, Winchester is, we might be banned from Taco Bell.” He blinked multiple times and shook his head multiple times, before asking the real question: “But…how?!”

A short sigh left Myins lips and she removed her seatbelt and opened the door, the other one following her quickly. Dean left behind in the car, still somehow in shock about the new piece of information he had gathered. The girls were talking about something, the redhead laughing at the smaller one, before pulling her into a big bear hug. That’s when Dean decided to leave baby as well and join the girls on the other side of her. “Sooo…what’s all the fuss about, ladies?” “Well buckle up Winchester, because this is gonna be a very freaky and funny story. Josy? Still carrying that travel Whiskey set of yours with you?” Said just rolled her eyes and opened the trunk. “Holy Crap, Winchester! How cool is your car?! Does it ever stop?! Myin! You gotta check this out!” “Later! We got a story to tell! And now get that booze!” the brunette rolled her eyes and gave Dean some sort of apologetic look. “Sorry, she gets distracted very easily. And after a hunt like this everything will be interesting to her brain.” She chuckled a little and Dean joined her. “No worries, I have a younger brother that I helped raising. I can tell you, she is harmless.” With that Josy joined them again, handing them both a glass filled with an amber liquid. “Here is to new friends!” she raised her own glass before drowning it and handing it empty to her friend. “You take care of that and I get the bottle.” She came back a moment later with a bottle of Jack and refilled her glass. Dean took a sip of his glass, as did Myin, before asking again: “So how does a girl like you get banned from Taco Bell? Must be a pretty good story to get banned from a fast food chain…”  “Oh, but as she said, it’s not just her who is banned, I’m as well….gurl…that was a heck of a night!” Deans eyes went wide, “Not what you think, pervert! But my lovely friend just tells the story better than I do. Would you do me the honor my friend?”

Myin nodded and leaned against Deans precious car. “First of all, it did not happen as long ago, as you would think from what, lady longlegs said. Actually…I think it happened shortly after we started hunting together, right”-  she got a quick reassuring nod – “well we went to a karaoke night together, we had fun, danced, sang…Just had a great time! Well sometime after two in the morning the bartender kicked us out because…well I still don’t really know why he kicked us out. Well one thing lead to another and we ended up at Taco Bell, it was the closest junk food store we could get to by foot.” The other girl cleared her throat, giving her a look. “Ok, not entirely true. But there’s nothing worse, than a Mc something Burger after a whole night of heavy drinking.” She took another sip of her Whiskey and held the now empty glass towards her friend who immediately filled it up again.

“Well where did we stop? Yeah, like I said, we ended up a Taco Bell, and we kept singing and sit dancing in our little place and yeah…one thing ended in another and we started a round of truth or dare.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows and emptied his glass as well taking the bottle from Josy to get a refill. “Still not what you think, stupid”, she rolled her eyes taking a little sip of her drink. Dean gave her his best flirty grin but she just gave him a slap on the back of his head. “Keep going, I love this story.” “Well, we stopped at the truth or dare. It all started very harmless. Flirt with that guy, how was your first time…stuff like that. Over time we got a bit bolder. Nothing too crazy still. Grab that girls ass, touch this guys lips…And them the fucking booze seemed to kick us pretty hard.” “Wouldn’t have to tell me to flirt with that greasy old dude, though…” Josy shuddered and drowned her whiskey. “As I said”, Myin gave her friend a dirty look and mover a hand through her brown waves, “We grew bolder and well at one point there was this song playing on the radio. And the youngster here thought daring me to strip would be a good idea, because I would never do it.”

Deans eyes grew big as plates and he licked his lips at the thought. “Well…it was ‘Cherry Pie’ and as I said the booze had a hold of me.” Dean just lifted an eyebrow. “That everything sweetheart?” His intense green eyes drilling into her and Myin could swear he already knew the answer to his question. “Not exactly…” “God damn it, Myin! You’re my friend and I love you! But the story isn’t as terrible as you always think! And if you don’t tell him, I’ll definitely do it!” Josy threatened and nudged her against the shoulder. Sending the tiny girl a step back with the force behind the punch. “Just to clarify!” Dean quickly interrupted and looked back and forth between the friends, “You two went drinking, had great fun singing terrible karaoke and then you went on to playing truth or dare at a Taco Bell, kiddo here had to flirt with an old man, you told each other funny stories and somehow everything escalated to gorgeous over there stripping in the same fast food restaurant? Where come the fun in?!” The red head shot him a death glare. “Let her tell the story or I’m gonna lock you in the trunk and drive the rest of the route myself!” “She’s right Dean, you don’t really think it would stop just here?”, Myins curly hair flying around her head as she shook it. “Well, technically it also wasn’t just me who stripped. This giant here, thought it would be a great idea to join me. Buuuut….” “I was wearing underwear that day.” Josephine flashed him a big toothy grin and wrapped an arm around her friend. “Or wasn’t I? I mean, you definitely weren’t.” “Panties. You were wearing panties…What’s left to say is, that the employees weren’t as cheerful as you are about the story. That’s it, that’s the story about how we got banned from Taco Bell. Also your panties weren’t that nice, Josy!” “Hey! It was wash day! And I didn’t plan on taking a guy back to the motel!” “Green boxers with turtles on them…”

“Uhm…but may I ask the most important question? Are you banned from all Taco Bells, or just that Taco Bell?”

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #203 & #204

Fri Aug 30 2019 [12:13 AM] Wack'd: Any ball that's both sufficiently big and can accommodate Ben's fingers cannot possibly be regulation

[12:14 AM] maxwellelvis: Hmmm... [12:16 AM] Wack'd: Well this is a weird swerve we've taken

[12:17 AM] Wack'd: So Reed and Sue are dropping by to help. Mr Evans is skeptical because he thinks superheroes don't have time for little people but then they actually show up! So he's happy [12:18 AM] Wack'd: Reed: We're not a group of super-policemen. We're people concerned with helping people. [12:19 AM] Wack'd: This bodes well

[12:19 AM] maxwellelvis: Oh great, we've got another god-child [12:19 AM] Wack'd: ...sure

[12:21 AM] Wack'd: Back at the Baxter, Sue has a machine that makes cookies! Franklin is pleased. Johnny is worried about setting unrealistic expectations for cookie production [12:21 AM] maxwellelvis: Nobody tell him about Cookie Clicker [12:21 AM] Wack'd: Johnny: What'll his future wife do to impress him? [12:21 AM] Wack'd: 🙄 [12:23 AM] Wack'd: So the monsters rampage through NYC. The Four go to stop them. And meanwhile little Willie's measurements are off the charts! [12:23 AM] Wack'd: There's actually two original Human Torches but sure

[12:27 AM] Wack'd: So Reed figures out what's up and thankfully was working on a radiation absorber to help little Willie, which he uses to melt up the evil doppelgängers [12:28 AM] Wack'd: Sure

[12:28 AM] Wack'd: And so our story ends [12:28 AM] maxwellelvis: We're never gonna see Willie again. [12:28 AM] Bocaj: Some would call a machine that makes cookies “an oven” [12:29 AM] Wack'd: It's got a conveyor belt and everything [12:29 AM] Wack'd: Doesn't really seem to require much effort [12:29 AM] Bocaj: Still though [12:30 AM] Wack'd: Oh my god! [12:30 AM] Wack'd: We see Willie again, once, seven years from now, in an Iron Man Annual [12:30 AM] Wack'd: He dies [12:31 AM] Bocaj: 😐 [12:31 AM] Bocaj: God damn marvel comics [12:31 AM] Wack'd: William Evans, Jr. on Marvel Wiki [12:31 AM] Wack'd: This poor child

Fri Aug 30 2019 [12:34 AM] Wack'd: HERE IT IS [12:34 AM] Wack'd: THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR [12:34 AM] Wack'd: THE CANONICAL FIRST APPEARANCE OF FRANKLIN RICHARDS IN AN ADORABLE COWBOY COSTUME

[12:36 AM] Wack'd: A trope that will vex this poor child for, apparently, exactly the next 40 years [12:37 AM] Bocaj: He only has himself to blame for keeping himself a child for 40 years [12:38 AM] Wack'd: And the writers [12:38 AM] Bocaj: Writers are a myth [12:38 AM] maxwellelvis: Note: Thing to do with a Fantastic Four thing: Have Valeria visibly age but Franklin doesn't, if I ever got that far. [12:39 AM] Wack'd: He's a Steven Universe [12:39 AM] maxwellelvis: Mixed with Rigby and why he hates his brother so much. [12:40 AM] Wack'd: "I'm gonna enter a deep, meaningful relationship right now! That's how that works, right?"

[12:41 AM] Wack'd: Agatha drops by to pick Franklin up for his "lessons." I wonder if they ever tried public schooling him? Or, uh, have him interact with other children at all [12:41 AM] Wack'd: Maybe the real reason he's keeping himself a child is that he keeps assuming that kindergarten is going to start and no one ever takes him [12:42 AM] Larena: Johnny I have something to tell you about heteronormative standards of happiness [12:43 AM] Wack'd: I really don't want to point out every fucking time we're back at this well so maybe we should stop being there, jesus

[12:49 AM] Wack'd: So Reed finds a thing with science [12:50 AM] Wack'd: And then this lady shows up

[12:50 AM] Wack'd: She is being chased by a Skrull! And then she gets shot [12:51 AM] Wack'd: We are now done with Kirby tiny gremlin Skrulls. They've eaten their Wheaties and they're back for revenge

[12:52 AM] maxwellelvis: This one's got a laser so compact it rests in his palm. [12:53 AM] Wack'd: Fight fight fight [12:54 AM] maxwellelvis: When WAS the last time we saw the Skrulls in this comic? [12:54 AM] Wack'd: The 60s, I think [12:54 AM] maxwellelvis: Wow. [12:54 AM] maxwellelvis: The Avengers/Captain Marvel/Cosmic Marvel absorbed them FAST. As you can probably tell by this guy's look. [12:55 AM] Bocaj: Look, someone had to feed them if the FF weren't going to leave saucers of milk out [12:55 AM] Wack'd: Holy shit. They...kick his ass! Pretty decisively! [12:56 AM] maxwellelvis: I mean, it's just one Skrull trooper. Be pretty sad if they lost to a lvl. 1 mook like him. [12:56 AM] Wack'd: They usually don't win their first fight in an issue! This is a novelty [12:57 AM] Wack'd: So Reed gets her to a medical scanner and she wakes up and switches to English [12:58 AM] Wack'd: Expodump! [01:00 AM] Wack'd: So this woman is from a once-great world when suddenly the evil empire showed up, you know the drill. [01:01 AM] maxwellelvis: This must be the first time the FF have come up against the Skrulls after they became a star-spanning empire [01:01 AM] Wack'd: The lady doesn't know this but we the audience are shown many cities were saved by the Watcher. This is definitely interfering dude, I don't care how quiet you are while don' it [01:01 AM] maxwellelvis: as opposed to occasional nuisances. [01:01 AM] Wack'd:

[01:02 AM] Wack'd: So these folks figure out how to make tunnels between their cities and build a new society...and then Skrulls fuck that up, too [01:03 AM] maxwellelvis: And Uatu never does the Doctorly thing of railing against this non-interference thing, he just does, what was it you say? Baby word games? [01:03 AM] maxwellelvis: To keep his job in place. [01:03 AM] Wack'd: Yeah [01:03 AM] Wack'd: Baby word games [01:03 AM] Wack'd: In fairness Uatu has phenomenal cosmic power he's potentially sacrificing, without which he can't necessarily do much [01:04 AM] Wack'd: Whereas the Doctor can go renegade because they can't take his brain and they...could take his ship but they're not gonna [01:04 AM] maxwellelvis: Because it's a hunk of junk by Time Lord standards. [01:04 AM] Wack'd: Also Uatu probably needs to save all of Watcherkind a few times, build up some goodwill [01:05 AM] maxwellelvis: The Time Lords DID take the TARDIS from him once, technically. But they gave it back for good behavior. [01:05 AM] maxwellelvis: As an "attaboy" for stopping Omega from flooding the universe with antimatter or whatever. [01:05 AM] Wack'd: Yeah [01:05 AM] Wack'd: Anyway Adora--yes, really, is here to seek aid [01:06 AM] Wack'd: So the Four are like "fuck, guess we're goin to space!" [01:06 AM] Wack'd: But first we need to check in with Johnny, who has decided his ticket to happiness is not a new significant other, but reenrolling in college [01:07 AM] Wack'd: Johnny: Two girlfriends later. I finally realize my only real skill is tinkering with cars, and I don’t wanna wind up being the 70's answer to the Fonz! [01:08 AM] Wack'd: You could probably make a living working on cars, Johnny, but whatever [01:08 AM] maxwellelvis: You shut your fool mouth, Johnny! Fonzie was cool! [01:10 AM] Wack'd: So Johnny starts making the moves on a college girl, who is unimpressed by his attempts to show off his skee-ball skills [01:11 AM] Wack'd: And even less impressed when she asks him about traveling to space and so on and he claims he never paid much attention [01:11 AM] Wack'd: And then Frankie Raye appears! Remember Frankie? [01:11 AM] maxwellelvis: Oh right, the girl who hates fire. [01:12 AM] Wack'd: She claims that she didn't wanna date him because he was always rushing off in the middle of some emergency and they never got any real time together [01:12 AM] maxwellelvis: "Liar liar liar!" [01:12 AM] Wack'd: And then Reed radios Johnny about going to space and she's like "yeah, like I said", and leaves [01:13 AM] Wack'd: Johnny decides he's too sad to go to space and while he's not dramatically quitting the team or anything, he wants to take some time to decide what he wants to do with his life [01:14 AM] Wack'd: Which everyone's pretty chill about, comparatively [01:14 AM] maxwellelvis: Pretty sure they all know what massive hypocrites they'd be if they belittled him about feeling ennui. [01:15 AM] Wack'd: Or about dramatically quitting the team [01:15 AM] Wack'd: Reed's set up a teleporter by getting Adora's signal and he tells Johnny that if he changes his mind he can join them with the press of a button. [01:15 AM] Wack'd: And Sue says some mail came for him and drops it off [01:15 AM] maxwellelvis: IMPORTANT PLOT POINT ALSO IMPORTANT [01:15 AM] Wack'd: And then...the story keeps following Johnny! [01:15 AM] Wack'd: Huh! [01:16 AM] maxwellelvis: “It’s a bold strategy Cotton, let’s see if it pays off for ‘em” [01:17 AM] Wack'd: Johnny tries to drop by the garage. Closed for a vacation. The Avengers are busy with Mr Gyrich and told Jarvis to turn away all visitors [01:17 AM] Wack'd: Which leaves Johnny with one last resort for company [01:17 AM] Bocaj: ugh gyrich [01:17 AM] maxwellelvis: i'm glad Sabretooth killed him in the X-Men movies [01:19 AM] Wack'd: 🎶 Spider-Man / Spider-Man /  Friendly impoverished Spider-Man / Stays at home / Can't pay to fly / He'll only ever know New York skies / Look out! / Here stays the Spider-Maaaaaaaan! 🎵

[01:20 AM] Wack'd: Oh, okay, this isn't going to be a team up, because he's busy fighting the Man Wolf in his own book [01:21 AM] maxwellelvis: I was expecting to see a cutaway to him breaking down Molten Man's door, honestly. [01:21 AM] maxwellelvis: But man, Johnny must feel pretty low right now if even Spider-Man is too busy to hang out. [01:22 AM] Wack'd: Oh hey, the letter is an invite to a fancy private college!

[01:22 AM] maxwellelvis: "Security University" That doesn't sound ominous [01:23 AM] Wack'd: I didn't even have until the end of the page to make that joke

[01:24 AM] Wack'd: So a building blows up and Johnny springs into action [01:24 AM] Wack'd: This guy is definitely a creep but for some reason the thing that's setting off the most alarm bells for me is that he's calling Johnny "John"

[01:25 AM] Wack'd: OH MY GOD THIS DOOFUS? REALLY?

[01:25 AM] maxwellelvis: The wha-? [01:25 AM] Wack'd: I thought we were scraping the bottom of the barrel when Gideon came back, but no [01:26 AM] maxwellelvis: Who? [01:26 AM] Wack'd: The guy whose sole shtick is "commits assassinations by taking photos" [01:26 AM] maxwellelvis: Ahh. [01:26 AM] maxwellelvis: Who? [01:27 AM] Wack'd: One of the very last Lee/Kirby villains [01:28 AM] Wack'd: He tried to commit some assassinations at the UN [01:28 AM] Wack'd: And was stopped [01:28 AM] maxwellelvis: Now, was he stealing souls with his camera, or was it just a disguised gun or something? [01:28 AM] Wack'd: It was a raygun [01:29 AM] Wack'd: This is such a nothing guy that he's literally not appeared in any other book until now and will unceremoniously vanish off the face of the earth once we're done here [01:29 AM] KarkatTheDalek: Thought that was Dr Faustus for a second, but apparently not [01:29 AM] KarkatTheDalek: Discount Dr. Faustus [01:30 AM] Wack'd: That's right, a fucking *decade* of stripmining the Lee/Kirby run for parts, and not only is he just returning now but no one will ever try and use him again

[ampwich-blog]

Working with aspergers

So I felt like writing this to give you a peek into our lives. What it entails, and what goes on behind the scenes. This is NOT intended for sympathy, but merely, for education. I feel it is important for a little mental health awareness. Anyway, here we go....

Every day is a challenge. I am practically a child in a grown mans body in a few different ways. While still mature in the sense of morality and responsibility, etc. (Where it counts), I still have growing in other areas. Knowing certain things, finding the adult world boring or, even worse, SCARY. My mental comprehension and “speed” and accuracy of things. My lack of being able to sleep properly at night....My thoughts wandering without my controlling them, daydreaming and drifting who knows where. Fidgeting, etc.

My brain is always on. Even at night laying in bed trying to sleep, I can’t seem to sleep. (Unless I took sleeping pills and got off electronics for an hour prior, but even then it’s hard and takes a while) Which results in me being real tired the next day, and “out of it.” Especially if I have to get up real early the next day. Brain is always talking to itself, reassuring me, and thinking about weird stuff.

I have horrible social skills. I CANNOT make eye contact to save my life. It feels as though laser beams are piercing into me, or drilling into my soul. It puts more pressure that I must physically react a certain way, or do this and that....and while I’m thinking THAT, I can’t actually LISTEN to what the person is saying....

Making conversation...small talk. It’s SUPER hard for me. I wish so badly we could just go back to how when we were kids, we could just start PLAYING together, or talking about stupid stuff, or having a weird philosophical conversation, deep things needing no introduction process. Now as an adult, I cannot get passed “Hey how are you” and something stupid about the weather. I just can’t relate...and I don’t know what to say, so there are a lot of awkward silences and pauses. But I wish so bad I could have more to say to you, and we could talk openly and deeply about stuff that mattered, or played as kids...but none of that is socially acceptable...so here we are.

Needless to say, making friends is near impossible. (Unless I’m doing a task WITH them, and there are things to talk about)

I talk to myself a lot. Mainly mumbling to avoid the awkward silence around others. At work, I want them to know I am focused on what I am doing, and don’t want to leave the “door open” for some weird comment or question they may have that I can’t answer. Everywhere else, I’m just simply trying to avoid the awkward silence and let them know I’m not ignoring them on purpose, or something....I don’t know how to explain it.

My social anxiety. People can mistake me for rude, or perhaps even creepy, though I try not to be either. If I come across as either, however, I certainly don’t mean to be. And if I seem a little unapologetic, that’s because I am. I don’t want to have to constantly be on eggshells and deal with even MORE stress and anxiety than I already am. I want to be as comfortable in my own shoes as possible. I want to ease the burden, and live as normal a life as I can, happily. (Which I’ve gotten a lot better at. I’m finally at a place where I am happy and confident) If I felt the need to constantly apologize for the way I was born, I would not only feel worthless and like a burden, but I’d be exhausted, and not want to go to work, much less LIVE life....I just want to be me. I just want to live life.....I just want to do my job.

I’ve been through a lot of verbal abuse before. I don’t want to have to go through it again at work too.

On top of that, I deal with depression. Thinking a lot, “What is the point? Is all there is to life just....working, and maybe going to church on Sunday? Is that...IT?” It’s taken me a long time to get to the point where I am now; being OKAY. Okay with living life in the first place. Okay with getting a job and working with those high expectations over my head. OKAY with driving a car. OKAY with actually talking to people. (For the most part) Okay with potentially being in everyone’s way (And now that’s practically part of the job! Who knew THAT was going to be my life...) despite that being my worst fear ever. For the longest time, I wanted nothing to do with getting a job, as my anxiety wouldn’t allow it. “WHAT IF WHAT IF WHAT IF” was all I had going on in my head. Life seemed like a fast moving train that I had to JUMP ONTO, fully prepared to ride along, or STAY OFF. And the motivation wasn’t there.  Now that it is, it’s like people want to knock me down a lot. At least, it sometimes seems like that. (I’ve had to take a couple minutes to cry a few times) People can be mean....But I know they’re just having a bad day and need someone to take it out on....Customers and coworkers for example. (Most certainly not all, but a few here and there) They seem to be concerned about their experience or something. They expect me to know EVERYTHING about the store, even though I actually need time to learn it all....They expect me to have a quick response time, and be charismatic, to know what, when, and how to say things, and have a plan. I’m not superhuman, I’m not a computer....I’m just a person, like you. With his own struggles.

The point of this is to not gain attention or sympathy. (In fact, I really don’t want it....aawwkwardd)  I do not want you to feel sorry for me, or to put myself out there. The point; perspective. We need to remember that EVERYONE has their own life and experiences, and things they deal with behind the scenes. We need to keep an open mind. Perhaps there’s a reason this person is acting like this or doing that. Perhaps....they have aspergers. Perhaps....they are depressed. Or whatever else, you get the idea. “Perhaps....they have x, y, or z....or are going through x, y, or z.” You never know, and that’s the point. I encourage you, (and myself, to be honest) to live and act in such a way that EVERYONE you meet might have some handicapped something or other, or have something you don’t know about. Because people like me are TRYING. We are doing our best. We are not inconveniencing you or being rude on purpose. We are simply just trying to live life and get by. That’s why I, in turn, try my hardest to not let the rude people get to me. Because who knows what THEY are going through?

If not the classic WWJD....at least think to yourself; “Am I really in such a rush? What am I angry about? Am I in THAT much of a hurry? Are my expectations...my time, my feelings, my hopes for the outcome....all really more valuable than this human life in front of me?

[areasontobreathe]

Organization 102: Why Are You Doing It?

My best friend teases me constantly about my love of lists and organizing my living space, whether it was a dorm room, my bedroom in a shared apartment, or my house now that I’m a homeowner.  But there is a reason behind my quirky hobby, and it’s important we all understand the ‘Why’ of our personal organization and de-cluttering journey.

For starters, I don’t use the term “journey” lightly.  TV shows, articles, and books seldom explain that organizing anything in your life takes time and commitment.  It certainly isn’t a one-and-done kind of thing.  Sure, when you finish getting your space all nice and tidy and down to the things you want to keep, it should make you smile when you see it.  But let’s be real here: The only way it will stay that clean is if you don’t every touch it again, ever.  Which means that in order to keep your wonderful new living space nice and organized, you will need to put effort into keeping it up (or at least periodically put everything back where it goes).

I know, it’s a little exhausting to think about at first. But remember what I said previously about everything having a place that both makes sense and where you can get to it – these two things, together, will make cleaning up your space much easier, believe me.  For starters, you will have less need to clean, because you are more likely to just use everything where it is and set it right back down. Yes, my nail file looks out of place on the window sill, but that is where it goes. It doesn’t need to be put up.

Most importantly, though, is this: Why do you want your home organized? Just like my reason for constantly trying different organization techniques is specific to me, your reason for taking that journey needs to be something that is a good enough reason, to you, that it will continue to motivate you when you start to get discouraged.

The challenge I always ran into was actually finding that reason, my motivation to actually keep my space nice and tidy.  Toward the end of 2018, I finally found something that guided me in the right direction – and believe it or not, I found it at work. My day job has nothing to do with tidying, home organization, or anything along those lines.  Nonetheless, in a seminar on finding a direction for your career (I know, I know. Yawn. Corporate shenanigans), I learned something that helped me drill down on my underlying motivation.

Ask yourself “Why?” five times. I’ll walk you through mine so you see what I mean:

1.       Why is it so important to me that I have a clean and tidy space? Because it makes me very happy, it makes me smile.

2.       Why does it make me smile? Because I feel a sense of accomplishment, and I feel like I can take a deep breath without the walls closing in.

3.       Why did I feel like the walls were closing in? Because my anxiety told me I needed to clean everything, and that I was a bad person if I did not.

4.       Why would I be a bad person if I didn’t clean? Because my grandmother and mother are hoarders.

5.       Why would being like my mother and grandmother be a bad thing? Because [REDACTED DUE TO CONTENT WARNING].

There are several answers to my fifth ‘Why?’, but I feel it would really go off the rails if I got into all that.  I’m positive some of it is in my older posts, which I have not deleted, from before I started focusing on organization.

Essentially, I have a plethora of reasons why I like my lists and my closet cleaning, but the biggest contributor is the fact that I have anxiety. Making lists of the things I need to do helps me prioritize better, and it also tells my brain “Okay, we have a hard copy, so we don’t need to keep looping all this through our head” (it also keeps me from worrying if I have done something, simply because I can see if I crossed it off my list).  Similarly, I am less likely to have a panic attack because I can’t find something if I know where everything is and where it goes. A really positive bonus is the fact that coming home to a tidy house is really, really calming.  Instead of my anxiety screaming that I need to make my bed, do laundry, pick this up, do dishes, pick that up, etc, I can take a deep breath, have a glass of wine and/or read a book, and just relax after a long day of people-ing.

Now, I can hear some of you thinking: Is cleaning your house the best coping mechanism for things like this?  I am not saying that it is, and in fact, several times when I tried a different method, there was a point where I had to stop because it was making everything worse. This is one of the reasons I will not hear any hate against Marie Kondo, because the underlying principal behind her method has been the only thing I have ever tried that was soothing rather than giving me something to fixate on and force myself into.  For me, it had a soothing, balm-like effect.  “Keep anything that gives you joy or serves a purpose that gives you joy, and put it in a place where you enjoy it the most.” Hence, the windowsill nail file.

That doesn’t mean any method is one-size fits all. Did I gather all my clothes together to go through them? Yes, but only because they were already in one room.  Did Mr. Nerd? No. He went through each drawer, then went through his side of the closet in order: pants, shirts, shoes, everything that is not clothes.  The house as a whole is currently still in progress, due to my family staying with me. I haven’t done my books, because they will be moving to newly installed shelves and I will sort my books then, no need to pull them all off the shelf now when I will just have to do it again in a couple months.  We did clean and organize our master bath, just off the bedroom, because we wanted our entire private space to be an oasis of calm.  However, we haven’t done the kitchen yet, and the guest bath is not currently in our jurisdiction (My sister does attack it regularly, though). The home office is as good as it gets until we have separate offices, but again, it’s an overall work in progress.

Coming up next, I will start focusing on one organization method each week, broken down into simple terms, and give examples of what I have found it to be useful for.  I don’t have a definite posting schedule right now, but I’m working on that.

Asks and Inbox are open, always.

[losingmyweigh]

The doors are closing in 8hours you will be locked out in the snow when it is

-2 degrees and you will remember to have your key card on you at all times, these are the good things that they drilled into us. Some of us learned to keep better track of our belonging. I forgot and DTL swiped me in. Some of us learned to steal things from the lost n found at the end of the month before they “donated it to goodwill” the truth of the matter was S.D. and Sh.Ma. would let me pick through these rich girls trash for a good winter coat, a good rain jacket, something that I just didn’t have. I never went hungry but I often went cold. It’s hard to be self-actualized when you are fighting off pneumonia every winter.

“Stress will kill you” my grand ma tells me

I was always stressed. I was always between a rock (my homophobic) parents and my (jungle fevered white male history prof that got off on traumatizing me “for my art”) hardplace

Per usual for a black woman.

I loved DTL with my whole heart and I think he loved me, the morning after I came into class visibly shaken.

He pulled me aside and asked what was wrong. I whispered that I couldn’t say it here. Someone might know.

After class he takes me to his office offers me coffee, I always politely decline. I start to tell him what had happened the night before. He turns on a song he wants me to hear. It’s strange fruit by Billie Holiday I am physically safe and warm and content. Emotionally I am torn apart. Years stream down my face as he plays music for me in the empty history wing.

It’s my fault. I begged for it didn’t I? I looked him in the eye as he spoke in class. I wrote down everything important and nothing that wasn’t. My hand popped up up up with questions and answers and observations and clarifying questions.

I’m not good at understanding when words are sung. I only hear the beauty of the music. I tend to block out the lyrics in case they make me sad

It’s not good when I get sad

He printed out the lyrics and gave them to me. They’ll be in my room somewhere, I’ll have to look for it.

“Southern trees bear a strange fruit

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root

Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze

Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees”

Her gentle voice croons.

“Pastoral scene of the gallant South

The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth

Scent of magnolia, sweet and fresh

Then the sudden smell of burning flesh

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck

For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck

For the sun to rot, for the tree to drop

Here is a strange and bitter crop.”

At the word suck he places his hand on my shoulder lovingly. I jump up and start sobbing.

I tell him DTL, “rumors only grow, and we both know what we know.”

I start talking quickly. I can’t help but do it when I’m nervous. It makes me sound excited but on the opposite side of excitement is fear. I’m usually just afraid.

I tell him how my brother and I got pulled over for nothing just trying to get home last night.

It tell him listenting to songs like that can send me into episodes, bloody noses, fainting fits. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I passed out in MR during O’s beautiful morning reports speech after meeting with DTL. I didn’t get to hear it I was too busy with my ass in the floor holding on to SA for dear life.

We are back in the office listening to Billie. He tells me to use my trauma for my art, it’ll make me feel better. He makes me write down the story I just told him. He tells me “trauma is great for my art, this’ll be a great piece, I don’t need to worry.” I tell him I don’t want to write that mess down onto paper, it would be too much. He tells me to, “Type it if that makes you feel better but this is due tomorrow.” No comma. It wasn’t a suggestion it was an order. And I was the troop that always fell in line.

“It makes me a better writer. I can see two worlds.” -W.E.B. Dubois

The duality of man, one of his favorite topics. He looks up to Frederick Douglass and W.E.B. Duboise. He looked up to me. I was 16 with a gifted tongue and a quick wit that only got better with age. The older I got the less I needed him. And that made him angry.

My grandma always told me my mouth would get me in trouble.

The way Billie Holiday sings “suck” is stuck in my head like there’s a skip in the record.

His other interest was black anything. Movies, art, music, childish Gambino and Ella Fitzgerald and Spike Lee and do the right thing and it goes on and on. He wanted me to see it all.

He wanted to “expose me to new things..”

Whenever he tried to take things a step too far I walked him back a step.

I was scared of him all the time.

I was terrified of him 3 times.

Those were the only times he truly reminded me of my father.

He had a short fuse and was incredibly passionate about his job. He was a workaholic like me. We bonded in that library. I’d tell my friend my senior year sorry I can’t hang out I have to meet with DTL. He’d try to seduce me and I tried to squeeze him for every bit of information I could have. Black people don’t like talking about their trauma for a reason. White people have made and continue to make it hard to have those conversations. Especially with ourselves.

It’s hard, it’s scary it makes the pain real. It gives you bloody noses and fainting spells. They call it epilepsy because they don’t know that your brain can and will short circuit when under extended pressure. When you go from eustress to distress shit can get ugly. The call it demensia when your elderly black people get it. Like a testy car alarm in a strong wind. They go off.

Beloved. Toni Morison. Maya Angelou. These were my favorites. He knew that. I suggested these women to him in class one day.

I still need to read Song of Solomon. These are things he pushed me to explore.

He knew the trauma would help my art,

And that’s what I wanted right?

No! I was a child. I was 16 and I was carrying the weight of DTL’s catholic guilt/niggersgettinlynchedandburned.

It’s fine if you don’t believe me. This is my truth.

This is my truth and I will sing it from the mountain tops. This is my truth and I will sing it until I’m free.

I have never known love with out pain but you’re not going to stop me from loving and living well.

He called me eloquent and Esnyder said yes that was problematic. It was problematic because the warm prickly behind the world word,“éloquent,” is that it means you subverted expectations. I’m a black girl from the shitty side of New York, I’m not supposed to use words like vivacious or convivial, not supposed to sing like an angel and shout like a siren.

I am black

I am not meant to be beautiful and yet

Still I rise.

[alternativewinxcontinuity]

Final Fantasy VII

Characters: Multiple OCs (Outsider POV series), Zack Fair (the CloTi shipper), Cloud Strife, Cloud Strife's stunt-plushy Genre: Time Travel Crack

Plot: In which EVERYONE at Shinra is convinced 'Cloud Strife' is Zack's imaginary friend.

Even the people who work with him(Cloud).

Lucy stared at the application form being held up for her to see, Zack Fair smiling from the other side of the desk.

“You... want me to put this through?” she asked, making sure she understood what he wanted.

Zack nodded, “yeah, that'd be great, Cloudy's a few days out from Midgard still, he ran into a few... problems on the way over, and if the paper work doesn't go in today, he'll have to wait for months before he can apply again. Please?” The SOLDIER second class gave her an adorable pleading look.

Lucy folded like wet tissue paper.

“Alright, fine, but you owe me one,” snapping her fingers a few times, she held her hand out for the application form.

Application Form for ShinRa Military and SOLDIER Programs

Name: Cloud Strife

Age: Badass

Bloodtype: I have no blood, my body runs on liquid awesome

Reasons For Joining ShinRa: Zack Fair is my hero, he and I must be Soldier Bros, it's imperative for the continued existence of the planet

Medical History:

Three broken ribs, lower left side; Concussion, mild; left femur fractured; Various minor injuries (bruises, scrapes etc.)

{numerous illegal experimentation, for four years; extreme mako poisoning; year long coma; Retrograde Amnesia; Identity Disorder (sort of, Zack was Haunting me); Brain-jacked by insane demi-Alien; slightly less extreme mako poisoning; temporary death; Geo-Stigma} Negated by time travel, except for the Retrograde Amnesia, I still have that

Past Military Training:

Yes. I did complete ShinRa Military Training in the Past, but after being experimented on, most of my Pre-experiment memories were wiped, so I do not remember the training. I do however have Zack's Military training, but that just sort of happens, and I don't consciously remember that either.

Next of Kin:

Claudia Strauss Relationship: Mother of Applicant

Tifa Lockhart Relationship: Future Wife

Zack Fair Relationship: Brother From Another Mother

She stared at the form in open mouthed shock as she reread the contents, filled out in Zack's handwriting. He wasn't serious, surely?

Lucy looked up to double check, but the young man was no where in sight.

Ten minutes of incredulousness later, Lucy put the application through, she had agreed to after all.

Brenten had worked for the Shinra army as a quarter master for four and a half years, he'd seen some weird shit in his time, and had long since learned to go with with the flow.

(as long as all the paper work was above board.)

So when SOLDIER second class Fair showed up to pick up uniforms for a cadet entering basic training, Brenten shrugged and got the uniforms, not even frowning over how small the uniforms requested were.

He doubted the notoriously hyper SOLDIER was really pick up uniforms for an incoming cadet – why would he, he surely had more important SOLDIER things to do – but the paper work was in order, so the uniforms were handed over with no fuss.

ID photos were important, they went in official files, on two of five different ID cards, so no one in the office would ever let someone walk out with a bad photo.

Or a gag photo.

But when Zack Fair walked in with a handful of paper work, and toy chocobo under his arm, Margy knew things were going to change.

“Hey, how are you? You look well, listen... Margy right? Listen Mergy, my buddy Cloud is coming in tomorrow to join the new influx of recruits, and I know all the IDs are supposed to be finalised today, so I was hoping you could help me out,” he smiled, looking so hopeful, Margy didn't have the heart to say no.

“Of course, how can I help?”

“Well I brought this little guy,” Zack held out the chocobo toy, wearing a decent rendition of the cadet uniform, “I figured we could take a picture of him, and make up the IDs, then when Cloud arrives, we can just update the photo.”

Margy nodded, she could do that.

Zack trailed her around the small office as she set up the stuffed toy in front of the camera, watching over her shoulder as she fixed the picture and took the photo.

“Well, at least I don't have to worry about this little guy blinking,” she joked, Zack laughed and nodded in agreement. Margy asked for the paperwork, so she could finish making up the ID.

Her smile turned a little forced as she read through the details.

“Is everything alright? I didn't forget any of the paperwork did I?” Zack leaned forward, concern clearly written across his face.

“No, sweetie, it's fine,” she began entering the details into the system, a few moments later she handed Zack the cards, and bid him goodbye.

Watching him talk to the chocobo toy as he left, Margy wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

They'd all heard the rumours that SOLDIERs got a little... eccentric, but going to all this trouble for what was surely an imaginary friend?

Unbelievable.

Tseng watched Psyche take notes mechanically as people spoke around her. The woman had been tasked with running the psych evals for the newest bunch of recruits, and had long since stopped paying any real attention to what was going on around her.

A good night sleep and she'd be perfectly fine, but for now, the only thing that would snap her out of her burn out, was certain words or phrases that tended to indicate ill will against Shinra.

Flipping through the notes she'd taken, Tseng paused on one in particular.

Why do you want to work for Shinra:

Zack Fair. He asked me to, and it's been a while since I've been in the military, I was a delivery boy in the post apocalyptic future, but then I got caught up in a kind of time loop, so now I'm here.

Tseng raised an eyebrow and looked at the name on the interview, 'Cloud Strife.' Shaking his head slightly, the Turk looked up the applicant's file. The profile picture was a chocobo toy in a cadet uniform. The initial application form had been filled out in what was very obviously – to those familiar with it – Zack Fair's hand writing, and was... uniquely answered.

Calling up the video feeds from the interviews, Tseng felt a headache forming as the video cut out only five interviews in.

Trying not to let his irritation show, Tseng resolved to ask Psyche about the recruit tomorrow, and put the application interview notes aside to be dealt with then.

Psyche apologised profusely when she couldn't recall the boy from the previous day, though she did seem to recall a chocobo at one point, and thought she might have seen Zack Fair at some stage.

Cain Danvers had worked as a drill sergeant for Shinra for two years. This was his eighth batch of recruits, they'd honestly started blending together after the third batch. They'd done well over the past few months, they were perhaps his most promising recruits yet.

He just wished his cadets hadn't been the ones to be picked by Zack Fair to be his 'friend's' training group. The SOLDIER second class had dropped by unannounced several times over the few months to shout words of encouragement at the group, or more specifically, at 'Cloud.'

What the hell kind of name was 'Cloud Strife' anyway? Sounded like a made up stripper name to Cain.

Not to mention, one of his cadets had taken to carrying around a stuffed Chocobo toy wearing a cadet uniform, and claiming it was 'Cloud.'

At last though, the insanity was behind him, the cadets were graduating today, and it would no longer be Cain's problem.

“CAIN!” the man froze, hands hovering above his keyboard where he'd been entering the last report on the cadet's final exams.

“SOLDIER Fair,” Cain forced a smile onto his face, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just came by to see how Cloudy did, I bet he was the best in the whole class,” Zack hopped from foot to foot as he peered over Cain's shoulder to read the report.

The truth was, there were marks for Cloud, one of the Cadets, he wasn't sure which one under the helmet, had taken the exams with the chocobo tucked into his belt, claiming to be 'Cloud Strife.'

The marks had been pretty good too.

“Oh, awesome, passed with flying colours, ha ha, he'll be joining SOLDIER in no time at all,” Zack clapped Cain on the shoulder and skipped out the door.

Shari was in charge of Trooper assignment, she was very good at her job, assigning the best Trooper to the job every time.

She had very little to do with SOLDIERs, almost nothing in fact, if one didn't count her memberships to the fan clubs, so having the newly promoted First Class Fair march up to her desk and lean on it by his forearms was nerve wracking, and exhilarating, and she would do anything to touch his arms.

“Hey there, I'm Zack, you're Shari right?” She nodded dumbly, he knew her name! “So listen, I was just wondering if you could help me out a little?” Shari nodded more enthusiastically, sitting straighter in her chair. “Great,” his smile was the most amazing smile she'd ever seen in he life.

“My buddy, Cloud Strife, finished basic training a week ago, but he hasn't been put on any missions yet, Hel, he hasn't even been given guard duty, I was wondering if you could look into it for me?”

“You've got it,” she managed to say, turning to her computer. Shari pulled up the details on 'Cloud Strife' and paused. She'd heard about Cloud from some of the other members of staff, apparently it was an ongoing thing. The note in the file said to humour Zack, as the recent – and thankfully over and done with – behaviour of the three Elite First Class SOLDIERs, had everyone wondering if Fair would go (temporarily) crazy at some point.

“Oh, yeah, I see the problem, just some typical inter office lost mail stuff, I can put him on guard duty for a week while we get that sorted out, how does that sound?”

“Great, he'll be pleased, he was getting kind of worried, sitting around with nothing to do but train, hey, while we're here, could you find out what happened to his Cadet Allowance, he said he didn't get it during training. I just want to make sure all his stuff is right, cause if it turned out his pay was going to the wrong account this whole time, well, Trooper pay is a little better, but he'd go broke pretty fast, you know?”

Shari's smile was tight as she confirmed 'Strife's' details with Zack, “well, everything looks like it's in order, it must be something else. I will personally look into that for you sir, and I'll let you know what I find out.”

“Thanks, that's awesome, I'll leave you to your investigation.”

She waved at him nervously as he left, then called her supervisor, she'd bought time by assigning 'Cloud' to watch a low priority section of Shinra, but now she had to get a SOLDIER's imaginary friend back-pay.

Maybe she could ask Jason from IT to write a program-thingy that would send low priority assignments to 'Cloud's' allocated PHS, with time limits for completion, which would then allow the assignments to be reassigned afterwards, so they still got done.

Sephiroth paused as he neared the doorway.

It was a low risk area of he building, so it was very rare to see guards posted at it.

Tonight, there was only one (rather short) guard beside he door.

On the other side of the door frame was a stuffed chocobo in a tiny Trooper uniform with a toy gun propped against it, as it too seemed to stand guard duty.

“General?” The silver haired man jerked as the Trooper called out to him, “are you alright sir?”

“I'm fine,” Sephiroth shook his head and continued on. He'd heard rumours about this, he just hadn't expected the to be true.

Angeal really needed to have a chat with his puppy.

Angeal stared at his PHS as the latest updates from the 'Golden Chocobo' fanclub came up on his screen.

“Angeal?” Genesis waved his hand in front of his friend's face and, when that garnered no response, he took the device from Angeal's hand, turning it so he could see what had so entranced his friend.

On the screen was a picture of a downed Behemoth, a tiny chocobo toy in a trooper uniform perched atop it.

Snorting, Genesis flicked through the rest of the pictures from the 'Golden Chocobo' account.

There were dozens of pictures of the trooper chocobo in various locations, some were even accompanied by notes.

Like the picture of the toy surrounded by actual chocobos of ever colour known to man, which read: After three long and gruelling minutes of negotiation, the chocobos have accepted me as one of their own.

Genesis looked up at Angeal, who'd buried his head in his hands, and went back to the photos.

It was good for the troopers to have hobbies.

Genesis wondered who'd killed all the monsters for him though.

[beaumontjemma]

Half an hour, and then I can go to lunch. Half an hour and the world’s longest list of stupid questions.

Jemma meditated on that fact, schooling her fidgeting hands into her lap and sitting as straight as she possibly could without aggravating muscles she’d beaten into submission that morning. This was just an interview. Just a bunch of canned sound bites, and charming smiles, and PR work for the team, all of which she could do in her sleep. She’d even put on foundation in the middle of the day for it, wouldn’t Lorelai be proud?

o1. Are you happy with the way the quidditch season is going so far?

A softball right out of the gate was always her favorite, and Jemma grinned, even as she tempered her response down from gloating, “I’ll call it cautiously optimistic, we’re doing well so far but I don’t plan on slacking off anytime soon.”

o2. What words would you use to describe yourself?

“Pugnacious? There’s a five galleon word for you, that’s got to be worth at least 3 regular words.” Spiteful, determined, and desperate to prove herself probably wouldn’t play quite how she wanted in the papers, however true.

o3. If you could change one aspect of your personality, what would it be?

“I’m sure there are people who’d like me to be calmer, but that sounds boring, doesn’t it?” Did they teach journalists to hope for the best like that, expecting an honest answer to personal questions? Like she was going to tell the whole damn readership of Quidditch Daily that she couldn’t breathe for the insecurity sometimes and she couldn’t figure out how to do more than pantomime confidence? “I really can’t think of anything I’d change.”

o4. Briefly talk about a defining moment in your life. What made it so important?

“Easy one, second game of my first year on the Hufflepuff team. It’s not the same winning games when it’s just you and a bunch of neighborhood kids and cousins and stuff, winning in a real game with real stakes for the first time was- I don’t even know. There aren’t words to describe that rush.”

o5. If you weren’t involved in the quidditch scene, what kind of job do you would have? 

Jemma tilted her head, faux confusion on her face, “Other... jobs? That aren’t quidditch? I don’t think I’ve heard of such a thing. I certainly can’t speak to it.” It would be boring to say she’d probably have just wound up in the family business, and worse, it would remind her that she could still wind up in the family business. Not that they weren’t great, just.. not what she was interested in or good at. 

o6. What are some similarities/differences between yourself and your teammates/coworkers?

“Well we all wear the same colors. That’s a similarity. And we have the same goal, winning the cup again. And we mostly play different positions, which is a difference. Some of them are taller than I am? I don’t think I ever bothered to quantify specifics, because they don’t matter until something starts going wrong, and nothing has with the dynamic yet. Maybe we’ll sign someone who’s horrible in the locker room, and that’ll be an issue and I’ll think about it, but otherwise it just seems like asking for trouble.”

o7. What kind of things do you think about when you’re alone?

“Athlete stuff, I suppose. Mile times and broom maintenance and what to eat for dinner. Christmas is coming up, that’s taken up a good bit of brain space lately.”

o8. What are three good habits and three bad habits that you have?

Ticking them off on her fingers, Jemma listed, “I wake up early most days, I floo my mum at least once a week, and I always buy a round when the team goes out. As for bad, I cheat on my diet with chips more than I should, I listen to terrible music, and sometimes I wait long enough before feeding my cat that he can actually see the bottom of his bowl in some spots, which he would probably call the height of cruelty.” It was a testament to the unoriginality of sports reporters (Mags excepted, of course) that she had rehearsed answers to that question down to a pithy and charming sound bite.

o9. What is your personal philosophy?

“Win? Learn from your mistakes? That’s a broad question, but I guess those two sum it up.”

1o. Would you rather be liked or respected? Feared or loved?

“Respected and feared, at least on the pitch, and that’s the important thing here, isn’t it?”

11. What are your thoughts on Puddlemere United?

Okay so it wasn’t the height of maturity, but it was fun to just make an extended raspberry noise and leave the question at that.

12. What about The Chudley Cannons?

“It would be awkward if my thoughts on the Cannons were anything other than glowing delight.”

13. If given a more lucrative position with another team, would you take it? 

Sucking her breath through her teeth, Jemma shrugged, “I don’t think anyone could afford to pay me what it would take to get me away from the Cannons. And they’d have to make a series of really stupid decisions first, like, I dunno, hiring Hagrid as head coach and changing the uniforms to include frilly skirts. I think the owner’s too smart to do something like that, though, so I don’t see me moving teams anytime soon.”

14. Would you consider yourself an optimist or a pessimist? 

“Optimist. I tried pessimism but I don’t think it’s for me.”

15. What’s one thing you would change about your team, if given the opportunity?

“Less groaning during drills. I’m including myself in that, so it’s fair.”