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helpingmehelpmyself · 4 years ago

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So my night has ended in shit. I made the reoccurring mistake of trying to have an adult conversation with my mother about how certain things she does affects me and makes me feel bad. This is a mistake I keep making, hoping that our relationship improves. What really happens is her feeling attacked and yelling at me which makes me want to cry and not share my feelings with her. But then later I forget the absolute shit I feel like and she repeats behavior or I notice I'm bottling up a negative emotion and I repeat the process of trying to have an adult conversation.

Today was my graduation photos which have been planned by my mom for a few weeks now. Mom did the planning, I didn't know what was to happen or any changes that had been made. I mentioned to my boyfriend that I'll have my photos taken and he asks if he should dress up. I'm thinking this is only going to be a small family thing so I say no. We still decided to have Dutch Bros before the photoshoot together and he decided to help with the photoshoot. I mentioned to my brother last week that I was getting my hair done for this and he mentioned he'd be there. I asked mom about it in which she said that is the same weekend we'd have my niece so yes and then she pulls out a dress for my niece. (My brother also decided that was his way of telling mom he'd be there which we hate when he does that because we don't talk to each other like that.) My dad calls me a few days ago needing a ride to the area, which isn't uncommon. I said "oh, what are you coming here for?" And he says the photoshoot. First time I hear of him. So to both of those times, I said I know nothing about the operation of the photoshoot.

Photoshoot comes today and everyone is in the house getting ready. Brother's girlfriend/niece's mother is there doing mom's makeup and changes into a dress for the photoshoot. My cousin drives my dad to the house and ends up sticking around helping with the shoot (not in it). We arrive to the university for photos and my dad and cousin are just like "why is your boyfriend not dressed?" I tell them because it was never mentioned that he'd be in the photos (I didn't even think he'd be helping with the photos). They continue to tell me I should have assumed because we are dating and that I really had no excuse for preparing him. So I send him home to change. I feel like shit because I continue to feel like there is a theory by other people that because my boyfriend is soft spoken and always ready to make me happy that he's the god given saint and I'm just this chaotic chick who was lucky to find someone to deal with and that she probably walks over (previous comments made before and during this relationship kinda make me feel like that's everyone's theory). So I feel like a shit as girlfriend in front of my family and when I explain to them I don't assume when it comes to mom because it leads to her yelling at me. I'm trying to make today a yell free day (I was close but failed at 10pm). So he changes, comes back, we all take photos.

We did a bit of walking and I was in stiletto heels my mom picked out for me. They were cute but uncomfortable. My feet were in pain and I made it clear that I was in pain generally. But I didn't feel safe telling my mom that these shoes are now uncomfortable because previous comments she's made in the past sounds like she doubts my ability to walk in heels, which bothers me. At one point, I was going to take them off for the walk and my dad told me not to. Thankfully, my boyfriend gave me a piggy back ride for a bit. (Unfortunately I am gaining some weight so I think that made it more difficult for him to carry me.)

We go to lunch together then everyone (minus boyfriend who is now at work) congregates to my uncle's house and have a kickback. It wasn't until I watched a TikTok about a new lipstick to realize it triggered me to earlier events today. We're taking photos and what I recall is mom whining where is my lipstick. I do wear makeup but I don't normally wear lipstick so I had gloss on. I say that and mom scoffed, rolled her eyes, changed her body language, something that tells me not having lipstick was not her preference.

I found myself stuck on these things to the point of ranting to other people a few times throughout the day. I decided that maybe having a conversation with her would help so we could clear the air and try to work things out. I try to have calm, adult conversations in which both sides are heard and respected. This didn't go that way and it never does.

I came home and asked her if we could talk downstairs away from everyone so this is a conversation between me and her. I told her I just wanted to talk about some things that happened today that didn't make me feel good and that it was hard coming to her because I'm afraid of her labeling me as sensitive (which she has done and it feels like it is more to excuse others actions and place blame on me. For example, she tells me I have bad hair in front of my brother and his girlfriend. When I tell her there is no such thing as good hair, it's how you take care of the hair you were born with and continued to go along with it, she calls me sensitive. Her whole thing was she and my brother have good hair and I should have been born with it too. I interpret the sensitive label as her not finding issue with what she said/did and put the issue on me). So I try to explain to her the above things and how it makes me feel. She gets defensive, yells at me (which leads to me crying), and says I'm making things out of nothing and I'm trying to blame my whole life issues on her. Despite crying, I continue to try and deescalate by letting her speak/yell, respond calmly with "okay" and "I understand", and trying to be an adult. (I tell people I can't have adult conversations with my mom and this is what I mean). I am listening to her and how she only planned for her to be in the pictures. She did invite my brother but he doesn't normally come to my functions so she'd take my niece as some part of him if he didn't show up. My dad also tries to come out here once and awhile so she offered him a ride for when she picks up my niece. Basically, I think my family members misinterpreted as everyone, including my brother's girlfriend, being involved. My mom didn't say anything but rolled with it. She mentioned to her boyfriend (who I don't think originally was going to be in the photos until everyone tagged along) that she didn't invite my brothers girlfriend to be in these photos, doesn't know how to tell her that, and is afraid of my boyfriend thinking that she was rude for inviting everyone but him. But the thing is, nothing is communicated to me about the event. I feel that if I would have known what my mom was planning, I would have rolled with punches as well. Tell me what your original plans were so I don't get "bent out of shape" (mom's words) when people come at me with why I didn't do this or that.

She didn't register what I meant about the lipstick, heels and being labelled sensitive. For the lipstick, she says they put lipstick on you at Ulta when they do your makeup there so that was... An assumption I should have made? And assumption she made? I don't know but I haven't had my makeup done by them in five years and I do my makeup differently. I don't even own lipstick and haven't worn any in like 3+ years. For the heels, she said/yelled I should have told her they were uncomfortable (they weren't when I made sure they fit, I never had to walk in them previously) or that I wanted shorter heels or wider wedges which wasn't the point. The point was I didn't feel comfortable telling her directly they were uncomfortable because past actions made me believe she'd think less of me. For the sensitivity thing, in which I tried to explain she also said things like this while I was growing up, she took that as me placing all blame on her. Not the fact that I don't like to be called sensitive and it makes me feel like she is placing blame on my emotions. When I tried to clarify that part, she told me I need to stop doing that.

Afterwards she asks if there is anything else and I said I think the conversation is done. She agrees, stomps off, and continues to talk about how I am trying to find things to blame on her. I go to the kitchen, cry, and put things away. She asks me how to remove her false lashes and I say peel them off. I go to my room, cry some more, and write this post.

I didn't expect anything to change, I actually did predict all of this happening. I still did it because I was pissed off that I was still pissed off. And some part of me hopes this will lead to better communication with my mom which I have past evidence of that not being the case. I end up sadder than before and she ends up pissed off, possibly thinking I'm ungrateful, against her, whatever.

I don't want my children to feel this way. I don't want anyone to feel this way with me. I want to be able to have calm conversations with people in which things can be resolved or we can understand each other better. I want there to be respect, regardless of the differences in opinion, lifestyle, whatever. Thankfully, I feel like I am doing a good job incorporating that into my relationships minus my family ones. Mostly my mom but my brother has his moments too.

My brother also understands where I'm coming from when it comes to things like this. My mom isn't exactly what I would call emotionally available. My brother began to resent it before I did. I think having his daughter and having my mom be involved made it better. I think my brother also tried to have similar conversations with my mom that backfired. He says she was raised in a time/way that family members could say/do whatever and you have no choice but to get over it because they're family. The thing is, my mom taught us cut off culture very early in life. My birth father and his family are cut off. She's cut off some of her family members. I actually cut off her former boss/family friend for inappropriate comments he made about me sexually and comments he made about my boyfriend who's white which I told her about and she didn't listen to until my brother and father were like "yeah we know why she cut him off and we're glad she did" (she actually went on the try to get my brother and father to tell her why and I told them not to say anything because I had already told her I was cutting him off to her face because of inappropriate comments. She said okay and asked no follow up questions. For this moment, it felt like she wanted to know just because everyone else did, not for my own wellbeing in which she would have listened to me when I told her to her face).

But yeah, my mom is not horrible. Far from it. It's mostly the lack of emotional availability and the issue of accountability (for everyone, not just her). But I wouldn't be surprised that once I moved out and became self sufficient that I cut her off too. There is enough trauma that I'm not given a right to fix or find closure with her and it affects me. I want it not to. I want to move on with my life. If that means moving on from my mother, I should be okay with that

#helping me help myself #mental health #mental wellness #therapy #self help #family issues #family #mom #mommy issues #college #graduation #relationships

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hakka84 · 4 years ago

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I still can’t understand the nature of Duchy’s feelings for Kate.

Foreword: I’m not a Duchy/Kate shipper. I liked how her romantic life was depicted, I liked her with Roth, I liked her with Mike (with all the baggage and angst) and I respect the future narrated in the ending. I just wish to understand if what I get from the show is there and meant by the authors or if I’m seeing things. And, in case of the latter, if I’m the only one or others shares my headcanon.

Long meta under the cut.

In the first half of the Season 4, Dutchy’s behavior whenever is around Kate is erratic at best. It’s protective, a bit too much to be healthy, but at the same time he’s very cold and dismissing toward Kate. Only in Dutch Courage we finally understand the reasons behind his acting - because yes, we’re basically told that Duchy was acting around X so to not get too emotionally close.

But he clearly failed. He did became emotionally invested. Because, after he has finally faced his trauma, Duchy allows himself to drop down that wall that built regarding the XO and we see him looking at Kate more and more affectionately. Never, when his eyes land on Kate, are devoid of a feeling - even if the scene is full of humor and laugh, there’s this lingering affection that cannot be ignored. He clearly has feelings for her that go above a simple frienship - especially because that friendship had no time to blossom yet, we will see it more (even if usually in subtle gestures, never “in your face”) in Season 5. Duchy’s hovering and being over-protective might be a result of his trauma and the need he feels to make sure something like that won’t happen again. But. But there’s clearly more, else he would act the same when around and towards Mike. Which he doesn’t. He’s clearly loyal to Mike, as their CO, but not in the same way he displays toward Kate. The only other member of the crew that gets this protective treatment from Dutchy is Bird, toward whom Duchy (and basically everyone) acts like a big brother. Bird is this young cute thing that must be protected at all costs (the fact she’s 17yo and basically taking a 6-months tour to decide what to do next, so she has little to no training, clearly has something to do, but I guess Bird kicks in their protective streak because she looks frail - although they all admit she is strong, and she clearly is considering all the shit that happens to her in S4).

Sorry. Digression. Anyway. Kate is clearly the opposite of Bird. She’s trained, she has plenty of experience, she’s tough. She isn’t the woman that should kick-in a protective streak - and you see it in Buffer’s interactions with her. Buffer approached Kate like a respected XO who deserves his loyalty, both as Lieutenant and person, but nothing goes out of the line. Sure, the crew joke about Buffer’s infatuation toward Kate, but it’s just that (we know that, if there were someone Buffer was infatuated with, was Nav). Kate gets priority, when protection is concerned, as the second in command on the ship, but not as “woman named Kate” per se: she’s a crewmate, she just happens to matter a bit more because of her rank and position on the ship.

Yet, Duchy feels it’s his duty to protect her with the same diligence of a bodyguard that protects a princess, or a very important woman activist who’s been targeted by terrorists because of some reformations she is pushing for. By the way, Kudos for the actor, he manages to convey Duchy’s wish to protect and to shield Kate from any harm - not only physical but emotional as well.

But then you have this:

KATE: You can’t help who you fall in love with DUCHY: Yes, you can.

I’m not sure if this were the intention of the authors, but it feels to me that Duchy speaks for a personal experience that is still hurting him (see how harsh he sounds, if he just believed in it in abstract or is something from a distant past he would sound more... placid). And why would this exchange be included to start with?

Ok, at first it seems it’s there to highlight what’s happening between Bomber and 2Dads and how wrong it is. The main point I believe is actually to give Kate some food for thoughts that will eventually lead her to the breaking point in the S4 finale - especially when later you have Mike claim the same (you can choose who you fall in love). But what if there’s a third level to read here? Is this exchange meant to hint that Duchy is currently in the same situation for Kate nonetheless, where he choose not to fall in love with her and he therefore has managed to switch to platonic one-sides romance?

In this same episode, later, we see Duchy drugged up and he calls Kate “an angel” and acting like a a besotted guy and I don’t believe in the amused explanation given by Swain that it’s all up to the drugs. It feels that those drugs removed Duchy’s inhibitions, the strict control he acts on himself so that he may not let his feelings for Kate reveal themselves. The drugs allowed (of forced him) to reveal his true feelings instead, and he just can call himself lucky because he won’t remember anything - and neither Swain or Kate will likely tell him about it. So the secret - if a secret exists - is safe.

And then there’s the finale, when he sees Kate kissing Mike. He silently steps away, but the look on his face, some kind of mourning, and then how he diverts his eyes. There’s sadness, mostly sadness. I can’t tell if it’s just the sadness for discovering that the person he cares the most for is forced to suppress her feelings because of their job... or because the heart of the person he silently loves belongs to another. There’s no jealousy, but resignation. Perhaps I’m giving the actor too much credit here, but he always pull the “I suffer to see or hear that you’re suffering” look whenever Duchy is faced with a hint (be it a subtle gesture or a word) that Kate is suffering because of her unresolved thing with Mike (as during Mike and Kate’s reunion after the bombing in 5x01, when Mike explains how he felt when he heard about the news and couldn’t get in touch with them to know they were alive).

So. My impression is that Duchy loves Kate in a platonic way and acts like her shadow, protecting her and doing his best to make sure she is safe, with the kind of the generous love of a dog. He wants nothing in return, just see Kate is safe and sound and possibly fullfilled with her life, be it professional and personal. He’s the man who choose to step aside and keep his feelings a secret, wishing for the woman they love to find happiness. But is it an impression or this was what the authors were aiming to? If it’s like this, which is my heacanon, Duchy feels for Kate the most pure form of love: he doesn’t want Kate for himself because he knows he can’t, he wants to be the XO’s second, and to be so he cannot aspire to any relationship with her - his need to protect her and be at her side for as long the Navy will allow him exceeds any wish to be romantically involved with her. Or perhaps he doesn’t even feel any physical attraction for her, she “worships” her (in a healthy way) and he just feels “in the right place” at her side.

Or am I seeings things that don’t exist? Are romantic - platonic - feelings for Kate hinted at or not?

What makes me lean towards the “I cannot have her, my duty will be make sure no one and nobody will harm her”, is how his situation is a mirror of what we saw between Buffer and Nav. Buffer clearly harbored romantic feelings for Nav, she respected her as Nav but as person as well, and was pretty clear with E.T. about what he felt for Nav went beyond a “I like her as crewmate” (so much that he got the “you could be her dad” retort). But then Nav - unaware - tells him he’s a valuable friend so he quietly backs away, accepting that she doesn’t see him like he sees her, and that their friendship is more important than his (eventual) broken heart and disappointment: she doesn’t need to be told that he had feelings for her because she did nothing to encourage him, and he will always be there for her, he’ll be the friend she needs and loves. And yes, when he understands that E.T. is serious, he steps back: E.T. will not hurt Nav so he doesn’t need to protect her from him. Buffer isn’t the most emotional of the group (compare it to Swain), so it’s most left to us to imagine it, but I get that he was fine with Nav and E.T. and he would demand to be a witness in the wedding (although he would be ready to back down and allow Mike the honor), because that’s how Buffer shows he’s a sweet cinnamon under his macho navy glorified combat and security expert.

Now, Buffer and Nav are at the same level (although Nav is higher, rank speaking?); Duchy and the XO no, so the context is a bit different. But there are many similarities, as the two buffers both feel affection for a woman crewmate who happens to be courted/involved with another. They are the most respectful they could be, in such a situation of unrequited romance.

Kudos to the authors: both (if we believe Duchy loved Kate) situations were depicted with the upmost respect. Seldom you see one-sided romances treated this way - no angst, no drama, the man stepping back and not forcing the woman to their unrequited feelings, the man not taking any frustration and broken heart out on the unaware object of their feelings (or like, anyone else).

As far as I can tell, all the romances in the show were good written - we got all the kinds you can get, from “girl/man of the day - it felt like a fairytale until I discovered you’re a drug dealer” to the longer spanning a half a season, the “we must repress our feelings for job reasons” to “I can’t literally control myself”, but all were tasteful, wonderfully nuances and with a decent balance between the two parties involved.

#sea patrol

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solesurvivorkat · 4 years ago

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FC5 Deputy GFH Dialogue

(Quickie ‘Katie IRL’ Update: So sorry for lack of writing... to be succinct, I might have a sleep disorder, possibly Sleep Apnea - been very tired/lethargic for several months now, finally have a test scheduled for late August. Will have to ‘make do’/power through fatigue until then. I will do my best to jump-start my writing {and my YT channel} until then!

Also - as for ‘I Need to Tell You’ (FC5 no-cult AU fic) - I don’t think I have a ton of readers for that one, so I’m just gonna stick to the movie-plot where I can & finish it up {the end is nearing!}. If anyone wants to read anything else from that ‘verse, lemme know & I’ll whip something up - otherwise, I’m gonna finish that up & get back to working on ‘The Book of John’ again, which is loooong overdue {poor Sarah’s been in John’s bunker forever, lol!}. THAT said... )

~~~~~~~~

Deputy Sarah Rook

(NOTE: My apologies if Sarah’s dialogue is similar to anyone else’s OC’s... I promise and swear that if it happens, it’s purely coincidental. I am adamant about not {purposely} stealing anyone else’s creativity! <3 Also, this is quite long... but it’s not everything in FC5, so if you like it & want even more, just lemme know, lol.)

With Fangs for Hire:

Boomer: “Aww, who’s my sweet, brave boy?” (kisses forehead) - “Good boy, Boomer!” - “I know what it’s like to have someone you love taken away from you... but don’t worry boy, you’re not alone. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never are again.” - “I won’t let Eden’s Gate use you, I promise.” - “Boomer, go!” - “Rae-Rae won’t have died in vain, I promise you.”

Peaches: “I’m... usually more of a dog person - but as long as I get to keep all my fingers and limbs, I’m satisfied.” - “Peaches, attack!” - “Us girls gotta stick together, right?” - “Hmm... one blue eye, one brown. Unique!” - “Needless to say, a cougar’s a very dangerous pet. Miss Mable never should have tried to raise you in captivity. Still... it can be handy to have a cougar for an ally.” - (gives affectionate pets) “Aww, my sweet little ‘danger kitty’...”

Cheeseburger: “You’re like a... big, dangerous teddy.” (laughs) - “Cheeseburger! How are ya, buddy?” - “Wade was sweet to look after you. I promise I’ll try to do the same.” - “I will not let Jacob take you.” - “Ohh, those big brown eyes of yours...” - “I can’t believe Wade not only found a collar to fit you, but also one that had cheeseburgers on it. Wow.” - “I’m glad you’re on my side, boy.” - “No, I can’t give you any more cheeseburgers. ...Stop looking at me like that, you know they’re not good for you. ...You’re on a diet, remember? ... (sighs) .....Okay, ONE burger. Don’t tell anyone.”

With other Guns for Hire:

Sharky

(serious) “Sharky... just between us... you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” - “Sharky... never change.” (smiles)

“Sharky, I know fire is your, uh- ‘specialty’, but... you need to try not burning down half the forest with us!”

“Anything you say, Charlemagne.”

“You and Hurk are a dangerous duo - in more ways than one.”

(horrified, after hearing about his mom/parents) “Anyone who'd do that to an innocent baby doesn’t deserve them. You’re better off, Shark.”

(cheesy grin) “I hope Eden’s Gate stocked up on ‘Shark repellent’!”

(when fighting together) “Time for a ‘Shark attack’!” - “You’ve got us between a rock and a shark place!” - “Sarah and Shark, makin’ their mark!” - “You might be better off using your gun here, Sharky.”

“Disco, Sharky? Really? (sighs) ...All right, to each his own.”

“Hey Sharky, got a bad joke for ya - what’s a shark’s favorite bible story? ...’Noah’s Shark’!”

“Ride or die, buddy!”

“No matter what, I’ve always got your back, Sharky.”

Grace

(chuckles nervously/anxiously after seeing ‘serious/deadpan Grace’) “Sorry, I... joking around is kind of my ‘defense mechanism’...”

“A medal in the Olympics... that’s amazing, Grace. ...Er- no pun intended.”

“For what it’s worth... thank you for your service to our country.”

(after Grace mentions destroying copies of ‘Only You’, Sarah chuckles sadly) “Y’know, it’s funny... I actually used to like that song...”

“I know you want to protect your dad’s grave, I do completely understand... but we also need to help protect innocent people that’re still living too, you know? They need us... need you.”

Hurk

"Hercules Drubman Junior - as I live and breathe." (smiles)

“Hurk, I... don’t think a rocket launcher is the best weapon to use right now...”

“As... ‘tempting’ as ‘Hurk’s Gate’ sounds, I... don’t think it’s quite for me.”

(at a loss for words) “...Oh Hurk...”

“Y’know Hurk... there is a lot more to life than beer, drugs, and sex...” - (Hurk {looks horrified}: “...Say whaat? What’choo talkin’ ‘bout, Dep??”)

“Hurk, just... be careful.”

(stares blankly, then slowly raises an eyebrow) “...Monkey... King/God??”

“No offense dude, but... if your dad doesn’t stop talking I may have to ‘accidentally’ shoot him.”

(sneaking around) “You’re not exactly the ‘king of stealth’. Why don’t... you hang back here for a minute? I’ll signal you or call out if I need you.”

“To each their own, but ‘partying’ is... not really my thing.”

Adelaide

(pointing in turn to Sharky, Hurk, then Addie, during ‘tongue-in-cheek’ suggestions for Sarah) “No, no, and HELL no.”

(Addie: "Punch it Chewie! ...Bet you got a kick out of that, you fuckin’ nerd.") “Hey- I love the reference, and I’m proud of who I am. ...Mostly.” (smiles)

“Addie, for the last time - no, I did not inspect John's underwear drawer when I was at Seed Ranch. I was a little occupied at the time.” (turns bright red as Addie looks thrilled) “...That- that’s not what I meant!”

(reluctantly) “Addie? I kind of need some... ‘womanly advice’.” - (Addie, eyebrows raised: “And you came to me?? Oh hunny...”)

“While I appreciate your... ‘openness’, no - I do not need ‘tips’ from you and Xander about ‘positions’.”

“Addie... ‘showing more cleavage’ is not going to help me with the Seed brothers or Eden’s Gate, despite your insistence.”

“...I am not playing ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’...”

Nick

(after flying Carmina - and puking once landed) “Nick... if you ever make me do that again... I don’t know what I’ll do, but it’ll be bad.”

“Flying may be great for you, but I’m much happier with my feet on the ground.”

“I’ll protect you and your family as much as I can - that’s a promise.”

“Defending your business, plane, home, family, and friends like you have been... I’m sure your family would be very proud of you.”

“There he is, ‘King of the Skies’!”

“You and Kim... you’re lucky to have each other. I kind of envy that.”

“Rook and Rye - on land and in the sky!“

“I know fighting Eden’s Gate is important, but... don’t forget to be there for Kim too. We’ve [the Resistance] got this... Kim and your baby need you more.”

(After Carmina's born) "How's Kim and the baby? You'd better be taking good care of my goddaughter!"

Jess

“I know we grew up in very different ‘environments’, but... I also know what it’s like to feel alone for a long time. No pressure, but... I’m here if you ever need someone to lend an ear.”

(re: Jess’s insane survival skills) “...You’ve got to teach me that/how to do that sometime.”

“You’re related to Dutch? Wow, that’s... kinda cool.”

“I thought I swore a lot, but... wow.”

“Yeah... I’m not one for small talk, either.”

In Combat

(to herself, stressed) “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph...”

“Aw shit...”

“Fucking Peggies!”

(to herself, quickly and quietly) “You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day...”

“Let’s kick some Peggie ass!”

(to herself) “I can do all things through him who strengthens me...”

“May God have mercy on you.”

“I don’t think my soul is the one that needs saving!”

Driving

(hears ‘Oh John’ on the radio & starts humming along. After a couple seconds, realizes what she’s doing and shakes her head, murmuring to herself) “...Damnit...”

“I’m driving? If you say so.”

“ ‘Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need... roads.’ “ (smug grin)

“I used to like driving. Found it kind of relaxing, most of the time. ...That was before I started having to get used to being pursued and chased down by Eden’s Gate trucks.”

“Time for... LUDICROUS SPEED!”

“Fasten your seatbelts... it’s going to be a bumpy ride!”

Idle

“...So...?”

“Everything okay? Do you need a break?”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but I spent most of my life in New England - Connecticut, actually. Born and raised. I moved out to Hope County only a few years ago, when the Deputy job opened up. Thought it’d be... a ‘fresh start’. ...Definitely didn’t expect anything like all this to happen.”

“I used to roll my eyes - or want to - every time the Sheriff and the other Deps called me ‘Rookie’. They thought it was so funny, on account of my last name and all, and me being the newest addition to the department. Now that we’re all spread out and fighting against the cult... I think I kind of miss it.”

“Some of the most horrible things imaginable... have been done by people who claim they had ‘good reasons’ behind their actions.”

“There’s an old proverb that states, ‘Hell is full of good meanings, but heaven is full of good works’. ...There’s a lot of wisdom in that.”

“God has a reason for everything, even if we don’t always understand why...”

“The right thing to do is not always the easy thing to do...”

“Faith is believing in things when common sense tell you not to.“

“Imagine the things we could accomplish... if we would just try.”

“ ‘Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.’ ...Make fun of me all you want, but it’s true.”

“I do love nature. ...You know... when it’s not being interrupted by religious idiots.”

“Courage isn’t the absence of fear... it’s deciding that something is more important than fear.”

Recruiting/Greeting

“I’ll do everything I can... you can count on it.”

“Good to see you again.”

“Let’s do this.”

“Stronger together!”

Dismissal

“Until we meet again - stay safe.”

“Call me if you need me.”

“Done already? Aww, you’re killin’ me, Smalls.”

Injured/Down

“God damnit... not yet...”

“FUCK!”

“This can’t be it...”

“I’m sorry... I tried...”

“I need some help!”

Revived/Assisted

“Thanks... now let’s teach these assholes a lesson they won’t soon forget.”

“Never tell me the odds!”

“Never give up, never surrender!”

“Thanks for the help!”

“Thanks... our work’s not done yet!”

Stealth

“Shh... ‘silence is golden’, remember?“

“Keep a low profile!”

“Be cautious...”

“Don’t let ‘em see you comin’...”

“ ‘Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise...’ ”

Being aimed at

“Watch where you’re pointing that.”

“I’m a much better shot than I let on. Just remember that.”

“Two hits - me hitting you, and you hitting the ground. I suggest you aim elsewhere.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Location-Specific:

By any body of water: “When I lived in Connecticut, I loved seeing the ocean. The lakes in Montana can be beautiful, but... it’s not quite the same.”

The Henbane: “Freakin’ Bliss.” / “Please promise me... that you’ll never, ever let me end up like one of Faith’s Angels.” / “Exploiting people’s weaknesses and fears to get them to do what you want... it’s wrong on so many levels.” / “Rachel Jessop wasn’t the first, or even the second ‘Faith Seed’... I wonder if she’s ever afraid of ending up like them.” / “God wants people to follow him willingly, to choose to do good - not be forced into it with trickery and fear. Even if - in an insane world - Joseph was right, it doesn’t excuse the things that Eden’s Gate has done. If they have a message to spread, this isn’t the way to do it.”

Holland Valley: “Saying ‘Yes’ to everything doesn’t make you a better person.” / “Many people know the seven deadly sins... but few people can name - let alone even know about - the 'seven virtues': chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility. ...But you don’t see John tattooing those on people.” / John is... he’s done some horrible things. Committed heinous acts. But knowing the life he had to endure as a child when the Duncans adopted him... I hate so many of the things he’s done, but... part of me can’t help feeling sorry for him, too.” / “Underneath all those layers of ‘jackass’, way, waaaay deep down... I think there’s a lot of hurt and pain in John.”

The Whitetails: “Jacob acts like having feelings, friends, caring for things and people makes you weak. It’s just the opposite... having things to fight for - people to fight for - is a strength. More than just a ‘purpose’ - it’s a blessing.” / (angry) Jacob turning me into a weapon of destruction... he’s going to pay for that. / Forcing Bliss on animals to turn them into Judges... it’s wrong on multiple levels. / “I’m ‘weak’, Jacob? I’ll show you what a ‘weak’ person can do.”

#far cry 5 #fc5 #far cry 5 oc #fc5 oc #my oc #junior deputy #female deputy #deputy sarah rook #sarah rook #deputy rook #guns for hire #fangs for hire #travelling companions #fc5 dialogue #far cry 5 dialogue

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krycss · 5 years ago

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Crossroads | oc:Alice Harkins/Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith | RDR2

Ch6: Clemen’s Point (Part 1)

[Read on AO3]

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Author Note: HOLY COW I LIVE. After 3 months there's finally a new chapter! My new job has basically sucked away any and all of my free time plus my energy so I haven't really been up to writing. However, I finally just sat down and finished this chapter. Is it my best work? No. But, it's something and I hope that you guys enjoy it nonetheless.

Arthur shook his head as he grinned at Dutch.

“Hoagy Macintosh? Really? That’s what you came up with?”

Dutch shrugged. “What? It worked, didn’t it?”

Hosea laughed as Arthur just shrugged. He couldn’t argue that, it did indeed get them close to the Sherriff of Rhodes. Which is not exactly how Arthur saw his day going when this was meant to be a simple fishing trip with the old men. They’d rescued Trelawney from the law after he’d gone and gotten himself caught, Arthur ran down some escaped criminals with a Deputy Archibald, and Dutch being Dutch, he smuggled his way into the good graces of Sherriff Gray. “Hiding in plain sight” as he called it.

Arthur could feel a familiar tingle in the back of his mind; he’d ignore it for now. As long as they didn’t bring any attention to themselves they were fine. They’d have enough trouble as is with the rival family feud that the Deputy had told him about. Arthur couldn’t help but wonder what Dutch had planned in that head of his about the rumors of gold.

Still, as Dutch had put it earlier, this was a lovely day. It was time for fishing.

They’d just gotten off their horses, spotting a series of boats near the fishing spot Hosea had found.

“I got a good feeling about fishing here,” Hosea said between his grunts from pushing the boat. “Supposed to be some incredible sturgeon.”

“Okay, here we go.” Arthur hummed as they finally got the boat into the water. “Let me row. You boys are too old for real labor no more.”

Dutch chuckled from the other end of the boat as Arthur took the oars from Hosea.

“And you’re too dumb for anything else.” Hosea quipped back, lightly thumping Arthur on the back of the head.

“You’re still too quick for me, old man!” Arthur said between laughs.

“I enjoy picking on children.”

He’d missed this. It’d been far too long since the three of them had done anything together. There were days when Arthur wished things could go back to those times. Things were simpler. There were less mouths to feed, and less drama. Less worrying about whether someone was going to die tomorrow because there were just too many people to keep track of.

Still, he wouldn’t change things, despite thinking about it. Especially now with Alice. And Charles too, he supposed. Arthur still wasn’t sure about things. He kept thinking that he didn’t deserve anything remotely similar to another relationship after what had happened with Mary. God forbid, he thought, if things ended up how they did with Eliza.

Arthur shook the thoughts from his head as he felt a pull on his fishing pole. After a bit of finagling, he’d managed to reel in a nicely sized steelhead trout. He threw it in the boat to bring to Pearson later.

He eventually tuned out the chatter between Dutch and Hosea until they caught his attention again.

“So,” Hosea said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “How are you, Arthur? How’s Alice?”

Arthur suddenly found his fishing pole very interesting.

“Oh, indeed, Hosea.” Dutch joined in, accentuating the syllables. “There’s certainly some interesting chatter around camp lately.”

“We’re fine.” Arthur gritted through his teeth.

“And Mister Smith?”

“I will tip this boat over.”

The two older men laughed. Arthur began rocking the boat just a small bit earning a yelp from them both.

“Seriously though.” Gone was Hosea’s mirth. “How are you three? There is chatter around camp, not always the friendly kind, and I’m sure it’s…difficult.”

Arthur sighed. He had hoped things in camp would remain rather normal but, there was hardly any privacy within their gang. Once one person put two and two together – or three and three - then it spread like wildfire.

“We’re figuring it out.” Arthur collapsed his fishing pole, having suddenly lost interest.

“I’m sure it can’t be easy, ‘specially for you.” Dutch also put away his pole, easing himself down onto the bench in the boat. “You’re still hung up about one woman and here you are, sharing Alice with another man. Don’t think I’d be able to handle that.”

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek. For a man whose eyes constantly dragged over other women when he had Molly back at camp, Dutch had some nerve.

“As I said, we’re still…figuring things out.” Arthur chose his words carefully. “’sides, who says I can’t handle this sort of situation?”

Dutch gave him a look that caused Arthur to roll his eyes. Sure, this wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to accept but, despite it only being a few days into it, so far things were good. Mostly just a little awkward as the three of them work out the details. They’re playing it by ear. However, it was all still so new and to be honest, Arthur really didn’t feel like talking with the two men about the early stages of his relationship. Relationships? He still hadn’t figured out what to call Charles in this particular scenario.

Arthur shook his head. “How ‘bout we head out?”

“Already?” Hosea spoke as he took a small trout off the end of his line and tossed it back.

“You ain’t been chasin’ down outlaws all afternoon!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hosea slapped Arthur on the shoulder as he sat down.

Then they were off. Arthur spotted the horses following along as he rowed down the shore. His spirits were lifted when Hosea and Dutch began singing, Arthur didn’t know all the words but he kept up with the ones he did. With the sun setting to his left, Arthur couldn’t help but feel like this was the official beginning to something new and beautiful.

******

Alice had to admit, the humidity brought on by being this far south was well worth the convenience of having a lake right next to camp. Her and Mary-Beth were taking advantage of their new lake-front property by going for a quick bath in the little cove to that Kieran had told Mary-Beth about at some point. Their bath quickly turned into an afternoon of lounging on the shore, their feet still in the water once their chores were done. Mary-Beth, it seemed, had an ulterior motive.

“So,” She wiggled her eyebrows towards Alice. “You’ve gotta spill the beans. How in the world did you manage to wrangle not one, but two men?!” She clasped her hands together, sighing dramatically. “Handsome ones to boot! It’s like something right out of one of my books!”

Alice splashed Mary-Beth, causing the girl to squeal.

“Is that why you dragged me out here?!” Alice was trying her best to glare at her friend but was fighting a losing battle with her smile.

There was really no hiding anything from the rest of the camp. The gang was rather close-knit. Still, the trio hadn’t decided to announce it to everyone seeing as it was a new thing for them and they wanted to keep it as private as they could. The camp caught on rather quickly though, much to their chagrin. Hosea of course had his fair share of comments and jokes. Dutch hadn’t said anything to her personally, but Alice had spotted him talking with Arthur occasionally. Other than that, no one really had much to say after the initially teasing was out of the way. There was still the occasional snicker every so often which was put to rest with one of the three giving a rather nasty stink-eye. Micah had been the biggest agitator so far. His latest comment was during dinner recently. Alice was seated on Charles’s lap by the fire; it was easier for Charles and her to be more open to public displays of affection while Arthur preferred to enjoy Alice’s time away from prying eyes if he could. Micah had picked up on the situation and had been the cause of most of the snickering in camp and this particular night he had made the suggestion that since Alice apparently was being passed around, it should be his turn sooner or later.

Charles had attempted to deal with the situation himself but Alice had beat him to it.

“Mister Bell, even if we were the last two people in this God-forsaken country, I’d still rather die before that happened.” She had said with a smirk, continuing to eat nonchalantly as the people around her laughed.

Micah, of course, hadn’t appreciated it, but Alice and Charles were fairly entertained as he stomped off. He gave Alice one last parting quip about regretting that statement before retreating to the woods.

Alice was brought back to the impatient girl in front of her by being splashed in the face.

“Alright, alright!” She sputtered, spitting the lake water out of her mouth. “But you gotta tell me about you and Kieran, then!”

******

Charles spotted Arthur standing awkwardly on the edge of camp, his back to the water. He had been in the middle of sharpening his hunting knife when he got up to see what the cowboy was up to. When Arthur spotted him he gave a short nod.

“Hey.” Charles walked up next to him, hand on his belt. “What are you doing out here?”

“Uh…” Arthur coughed a little, jabbing his thumb behind him.

Charles could hear laughter and splashing. He could tell who it was by the laughs, the corners of his lips tugging up.

He chuckled. “Keeping watch, hm?”

Arthur blushed. Charles tried not to smile at how easy it was to fluster the man.

“Well now I am. I may have, uh, accidentally spotted them.” He scratched at his stubble. “Figured I’d make sure no one else makes the same mistake. Don’t want to embarrass them, ya know?”

Charles hummed, nodding his head quick.

“What you preparing for, anyhow?” Arthur nodded towards Charles’s hand which was still holding the whetstone.

“The greatest of gifts.”

“An unguarded stagecoach?” Arthur teased.

“No, you simple-minded fool.” Charles nudged his shoulder, letting him know he wasn’t being an ass. “Bison.”

“Bison?”

“Bison. From which you can get anything.” Charles turned around when he heard the sound of the girls getting out of the water. “There’s some over on the Plains, I believe. I saw a couple a long way off earlier.”

“Ah,” Arthur nodded. “Well, good luck then.”

Charles muttered a quick thanks but stopped a couple steps away. He had planned on using it as some time to himself but…

“Wanna come with me? When you’re done here.” He turned back. “I can show you how we hunt one.”

Arthur bobbed his head side-to-side, thinking it over. “Sure, why not?”

“Alright. Well, come find me when you’re done here, then.”

Arthur gave him his little finger salute which Charles nodded at.

He walked away, thinking back on things. He was happy with how things were going. It wasn’t as awkward as he had thought it would be, “sharing” Alice. It’s not like he didn’t know of others in similar relationships during his time on his own. It’s always different when it’s yourself, though. He was happy though, that much he could admit. For the first time in a while. He wasn’t sure how Arthur was fairing, he’d ask him while they were out. Alice seemed to be happy, though. She was smiling more and it seemed like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Charles could only imagine how much stress she had been under trying to figure out her feelings during these stressful times for the gang.

He glanced back at Arthur again when he heard the man explaining his situation to Mary-Beth and Alice. His face was hidden behind his hat but Charles could see the redness of his cheeks and neck as the girls giggled. Charles sighed, that man was far too easy to fluster.

******

Arthur was still trying to fight his blush as he rode alongside Charles towards the Plains in the Heartlands. Having one woman giggling at you while still soaked from water was enough to fluster him, but two? And one of which he was sweet on? Arthur thought this day would never end. Charles eventually broke him out of his thoughts by grabbing his attention.

“So, how are you holding up with things?”

Arthur knew what he meant without asking.

“Still getting used to it I suppose?” He took in a deep breath which caused tickle in his chest, making him cough a little. “I’ll admit I never thought I’d end up in another relationship with someone after…Mary.”

Arthur paused. No one else knew about Eliza…he still wasn’t ready to tell anyone.

“I never thought I deserved it, you know?” He continued. “Still don’t. ‘Specially with Alice. She’s just - she’s too good. And I’m just…me.”

Charles glanced over at him, slowing Taima down.

“She is a good person. Too good for our way life if I’m being honest. But, just like me, she sees the good in you. You deserve happiness Arthur, in whatever way you can get it. And if me and her have to remind you every day then, well, I suppose we will.”

Arthur puffed out his cheeks. Why’d these two have to gang up on him?

“You two are fools.” He mumbled.

Charles huffed a laugh through his nose as he picked up the pace, Arthur following shortly.

The bison were right where Charles said they would be. After telling him the history of his tribe and their closeness to the animal, Arthur was feeling a little stressed when Charles said that he could take one down while Charles went off to wrangle them.

Arthur brought Crayola to a run alongside the ringed-in bison. He took aim at one that was falling behind but still had enough meat on it to feed their ever-growing family.

With two good shots, the beast went down with a loud thump as the others ran off.

“Well done!” Charles called out as he rode up to Arthur.

Arthur found himself sitting up straighter in his saddle at the praise for some reason.

Both men brought their horses to the downed animal, Arthur hopping down to examine it.

“Alright, let’s skin and butcher it.” Charles pulled out the hunting knife he had been sharpening earlier and handed it to Arthur. “Take the horns too. It can all be used.”

Arthur went to work, quickly but methodically. He didn’t want to mess this up. Eventually both of their horses were tied down with either meat or furs.

Charles was looking over the hills surrounding them. Arthur hummed to get his attention.

“What is it?”

“I want to go check something out.” Charles spoke lowly, still staring over the hill.

“Where we goin’?” Arthur asked as he followed along.

“I thought I saw some scavenger birds over here, just want to see what attracted them.”

Arthur nodded, despite knowing the man in front couldn’t see the action. Charles’s shoulders were tense.

They became even more rigid when they came around the hill and discovered the source.

Three bison carcasses, their skin and meat torn to shred from the birds and other wildlife having had time to feast.

Charles growled. “Shot and left for dead, it looks like.”

“Why would someone do that?”

“I don’t know, but I see tracks heading in this direction. I say we follow them.”

Arthur watched as Charles’s jaw clenched, it seemed almost painful. He wasn’t sure if he was more worried about Charles, or what he’d do to whoever they found.

******

Alice had been helping sort through the piles of goods that Sean and Javier had brought in from their latest homestead robbery when Charles and Arthur rushed through the opening of the camp. Alice jumped to her feet, eager to see what the men had been up to while they were away. The smile on her face fell when she saw the expression on their faces. Charles quickly dismounted Taima, grabbing whatever was tied to the back of her and rushed past Alice towards Pearson. Alice watched as he discarded what appeared to be a bag filled with meat before he went straight to his tent, dropped off his things, and headed out to the woods nearby. Alice felt like a windstorm had passed through camp with how quickly Charles had come and gone. Her chest hurt at the expression she briefly saw on his face and took a step to follow him when she felt Arthur’s hand gently grab her shoulder.

“Give him some time to himself for a little bit.” He pulled her close, her back flush against his warm chest.

Alice tilted her head up to look at Arthur.

“What happened?”

“We went out hunting bison. Found some poachers.”

Alice nodded, resting her head back against his chest. She felt Arthur’s chin on the top of her head.

She knew how Charles felt about poachers. It was one of the things they had talked about oh so long ago when she was first getting to know him. She didn’t need Arthur to elaborate to understand that he was right. Charles needed space for a little bit. He’d be back. And they’d be here waiting for him when he did.

The quiet of camp was broken with a shout from Pearson’s wagon. Arthur and Alice looked over to see Sadie currently waving a rather large knife in Pearson’s face.

“For Christ’s sake.” Arthur muttered, resting his forehead on Alice’s shoulder. “Can there ever be a calm day in this camp?”

Alice chuckled, causing Arthur to lift his head to get away from her bouncing shoulder.

“I’m afraid not Mister Enforcer.” She pulled herself from his grasp reluctantly, pushing him towards the scene. “Go on now before we need to find another cook.”

“I dunno, I think our stomachs would be happier for it honestly.” Arthur chimed back, sending her a wink as he stormed off.

Alice shook her head with a smile as she watched the scene unfold from afar. It would seem they might have a new set of hands to help in the fighting if Sadie has her way. Alice couldn’t help but be a little relieved. After what happened in Valentine she wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of being caught in any sort of gun fire any time soon. She still had nightmares about it sometimes.

She gave a wave and a cheeky smile to the grumbling Arthur as he and Sadie rode out of camp on the supply wagon. Alice’s attention went back to the direction Charles had stormed off. She knew there was a bit of a clearing in that area and wondered if maybe he had gone that way. She hesitated as she took a step, heeding Arthur’s suggestion of leaving him alone but, Charles didn’t have to be alone anymore. None of them did. Making up her mind, Alice quickly half-ran to Charles’s tent, grabbing his blanket. She then ran over to her own tent, grabbing her blanket as well. And finally over to Arthur’s tent to steal one of his. She stopped by Pearson’s wagon and wrapped up some fruits and other goods in the blankets and was off to the meadow. Even if he wasn’t there, she knew it wouldn’t take him long to find her.

She wasn’t sure if she was just that good at reading the man, or just extremely lucky but when she finally pushed through the last of the bushes, she did indeed spot Charles laying in the middle of the small clearing. He looked like one of the cats that used to lie around Blackwater, soaking up the sun. Alice knew that he knew she was there. He probably heard her coming a long while off with her stomping through the woods. Still, he kept his eyes closed. He didn’t say anything though – not that he said much – and Alice took it as a good sign to come closer. She sat tentatively on the grass next to him, the blankets bundled in her lap.

“Arthur told me what happened.” She spoke low.

Charles hummed. “I’m sorry about how I charged into camp.”

Alice shook her head, then realizing that Charles still had his eyes closed, she spoke. “No need to apologize, Charles. I understand.”

Charles sucked in a large breath before pulling himself up to sit.

“So,” His effort to change topics was obvious. “What do you have there?”

Alice smiled towards him. “Well, I thought I might try and cheer you up a little and while we don’t have much in camp, figured we could have some sort of picnic. Make sure to save some for when Arthur gets back, though. We all need some time away from camp I think.”

Charles nodded slowly. “He go somewhere?”

“Sadie finally made her attempt at killin’ poor mister Pearson.” Charles laughed at that. “Arthur took her on a trip into town to get her out for a bit. From what I could hear it sounds like she might want to start riding with you guys now.”

Charles hummed in question. “You not planning on going with us anymore?”

“Not into any sort of…gunfights. I don’t know.” Alice sighed. “After Valentine…”

Charles nodded. “I get it. Take your time. You’re a skilled thief anyways, you weren’t exactly known for your gun-slinging.”

“Hey now!”

Both of them were now laughing as Alice tore up a handful of grass and threw it at Charles.

“Well, let’s get this picnic set up, hm?”

******

Arthur was still grumbling to himself when he walked towards his tent. The simple shopping trip with Sadie turned into one of the wildest things he’d gotten himself into in a while. Couldn’t argue that the woman could hold her own though. He had a feeling she’d be making herself known in the gang fairly quickly at this rate. Still, doesn’t mean he likes being shot at out of the blue.

“The hell?”

Arthur scratched at the stubble on his chin when he reached his tent. His blanket was missing.

“Who the hell steals a blanket?”

He turned around, doing a quick search of the immediate area. His eyes were drawn to Alice’s tent not too far away. His brow furrowed.

She would. She definitely would.

As he made his way to her tent he glanced over towards where Charles’s stuff was set up and noticed that his too was missing.

“What in the world is she up to…?” He mumbled.

He announced himself before pulling the front flap of her tent open and peeked inside. No blanket.

“Looking for someone, Arthur?” Javier’s voice came from behind.

Arthur turned around. Javier was putting away his rifle from his watch.

“She headed off after Charles not long after you left. They went that way.” Javier chuckled as he pointed towards the small trail on the other side of camp that led to the woods. “Have fun, amigo!”

Arthur shot him an annoyed glare before thanking him and walking in that direction. He wasn’t all that surprised to hear that Alice had gone after Charles even after being told to give him some time alone. She was just too good. There were some days where Arthur was worried that the life they lead would taint her but, somehow she’s kept it.

As he got closer, using the tracking skills Charles had taught him what feels like ages ago, he finally heard laughter and chatter coming from ahead. He felt a smile form on his face immediately.

“Surely that ain’t true!” He heard Alice yell out in laughter.

“It is!” Charles replied with a loud laugh of his own. “It was knotted up so badly that we had to shave it all off in the end. There was no fixing it. It took forever for my hair to grow back. Mother was furious.”

Arthur stepped the bushes and his chest warmed at what he was seeing. There was a large pile of blankets sprawled across the grass. Some food piled in one corner, some having already been eaten. Alice was sitting cross-legged in front of Charles, doing something with some flowers. Seemed like she was making a version of one of Jack’s flower necklaces. Charles was sat behind her on his knees, he was currently working his way through an intricate braid in her hair.

“Well ain’t this a pretty picture.” Arthur called out as he walked closer.

“Arthur! You found us!” Alice smiled wide and waved in his direction; she could only turn her head so far with Charles’s hands in her hair.

He sat on the edge of the blankets and pulled off his boots, throwing them next to theirs. He picked up a can of peaches and quickly scarfed it down while Alice wasn’t paying attention. He’d gotten one too many lectures from her about how he shouldn’t just breathe in his food.

“What’chu two up to?” He said between bites.

“Well, we wanted to kill some time while waiting for you to finally show up, so I asked Charles if he’d braid my hair for me.”

“Couldn’t exactly say no.” Charles smirked. “Haven’t had the chance to braid anyone’s hair except my own in a long time.”

Arthur hummed. “Seems difficult.”

“Wanna learn?”

Arthur’s eye brows shot up, he had said that out loud?

“I….I don’t know. Think my hands are a little too…uncoordinated for this kind of stuff.” He mumbled.

“Just follow what Charles does!” Alice reached back and patted one of Charles’s hand. “Could he braid yours or is that…?”

“It’s okay.” Charles turned and smiled at Arthur. “If you want to follow along that’s fine. I’ll show you something simpler.”

He quickly finished up whatever braid he was doing on Alice and then stopped, letting go of some strands and moving some others around so that he was only holding three this time.

“You sure?” Arthur moved slowly behind Charles.

There was a part of him that kind of hoped Charles would change his mind. But then there was this other part of him that wanted to be able to do stuff like this for Alice as well.

Plus, he had always thought Charles had nice hair for a man. He also didn’t want to offend him if it was a…cultural thing.

“Come on.” Charles smiled at Arthur over his shoulder and then swept all of his hair back with his free hand.

“Now I’m kinda wishin’ I could see because I can only imagine how this is gonna go.” Alice snickered from up front.

“Watch it, missy.” Arthur playfully growled.

He could spot a grin on her face from the side. The stubborn part of him wanted to change his mind just to wipe the grin from her face. But he was already holding three strands of hair between his fingers so it was a bit late for that.

“Hey, it’s not your hair he’s practicing on.”

Charles and Alice laughed at that while Arthur just gently tugged on one strand of Charles’s hair.

“You two hush and let’s start.”

Arthur was forever thankful for Charles’s patience and trust as he learned some basic braids. He was currently being shown a little trickier one which involved four strands of hair so that Charles could finish the same braid on Alice. Whatever Alice was working on, she seemed to be finished as Arthur couldn’t see her hands moving anymore.

“Now just tie it off.” Charles said as he finished with Alice’s hair.

“I’m no expert but I don’t think I did half bad!” Arthur chuckled to himself, he tucked some fly-away strands behind Charles’s ears, feeling the man shudder.

“Only one way to find out!” Alice quickly turned around, shuffling on her knees to look at both men.

Charles just smiled and shook his head as he turned to show off his hair. It was braided from about midway on his head. There were some spots that were definitely messy or sticking out of place, but overall Arthur was happy with it.

“Not bad, Arthur. Not bad at all.” Alice grinned up at him.

“Don’t need to cut it all off?” Charles teased, earning a soft shove from Arthur.

“You knew the risk.” Arthur snickered, then his attention turned back to Alice. “What was you workin’ on anyhow?”

“Oh!” Alice leaned back, reaching for her mystery project. When she turned back around she was holding a crown made of daisies. “Since you don’t exactly have as much hair as me and Charles, I figured I’d make you something braided as well so we can all look nice together.”

She sounded like she was joking, but Arthur could tell that she was still a little nervous in giving it to him. Whatever witty comeback he had ready was stowed away in favor of a soft smile. He grabbed it from her hands, placed it on his head, and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. He chuckled when he heard her squeak a little.

“Well ain’t this a pretty picture?” Charles laughed lowly, mocking Arthur’s earlier statement.

Arthur and Alice looked over to see Charles lounging back on his elbows watching the both of them. He had a small smile on his face.

“Aw, you want a kiss too?” Alice cooed.

Charles smirked, lowering his head a bit. He looked up through his eyelashes. “Maybe.”

Alice giggled. “Fine, you big baby.” She crawled towards him, sitting herself on his lap.

Arthur had thought he’d be more jealous seeing the woman he cared for sitting in the lap of another man. Especially knowing that the other man was her…other man. Instead the twist he thought he felt in his stomach was more like butterflies. He didn’t quite know how to describe it or what it meant. He found himself smiling at the cute scene that was Alice grabbing Charles’s face with her small hands and squishing his cheeks as she planted an exaggerated kiss on one of them. He was broke from his reverie when he realized they were both now staring at him.

“W-what?”

“Your turn, Arthur.” Alice teased, tapping Charles’s other cheek.

Arthur sputtered, feeling his face heat up. Surely she was joking? He scratched the back of his neck, trying to figure out what to do. Also to think about why he wasn’t exactly…against the idea? He glanced back towards where camp was, briefly.

“I-I don’t-”

As if sensing his dilemma, Alice backtracked. Charles leaned forward, knocking into Alice, mumbling that they’d get him next time. Arthur squinted over at the two of them – leave them alone and they scheme apparently. And now the stubborn side of him was surfacing again. He stood up quickly, causing the two of them to scramble to their feet. They were already starting to apologize again for teasing him when he marched towards the two of them, rather than back to camp like they must have thought he would. Before either could say anything else, Arthur walked up to Charles. The man was only slightly taller than Arthur, looking at him with a question behind his eyes. They stared at one another, Arthur’s eyes flicked from Charles’ to his lips. Arthur let out a quick huff of air before leaning forward and placing a quick kiss to Charles’s cheek. When he leaned back he looked between the two of them as his face burned hotter. Alice was sporting a small smile, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Charles was blinking rapidly and Arthur couldn’t help but feel a little smug about surprising the man - it was hard to catch him off-guard.

“We should probably head back to camp.” Arthur coughed, once the situation finally caught up with him.

Charles quickly agreed and the three went to work on picking up their supplies.

The next couple weeks for Arthur were an interesting time, to say the least. He was following up on Dutch’s plan to get Arthur close to the Grey family while Hosea worked on the Braithwaites. Turns out, that meant playing mailman for two kids in love from rival families. Really made Arthur think about his relationship and how at least the camp wasn’t going to kill them for being together at least. Turning into a mailman then somehow turned into becoming a wagon driver and newly appointed women’s suffragette member. To say that his feelings regarding a certain man back in camp were the least of his worries was an understatement.

Things between the three of them were definitely different after that day in the field. They didn’t talk about it but the air had certainly changed between them. Where before there would be little looks between him and Alice, Arthur now found his eyes drifting to Charles as well. It was as if he was seeing the man in a new light and all it took was one little moment. The moments by the campfires which had previously been awkward, with figuring out how they would all sit together, was now a mish-mash of the three of them practically sitting on top of each other. Alice frequently found herself seated on one of the men’s laps with her legs across the others’. And when no one was paying attention in camp, Arthur and Charles found themselves sitting closer than they had in the past. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t heard of things like this before between two men. The addition of a lady was new to him but Charles had told him stories from his travels that it wasn’t exactly rare either – usually just hard to spot out in the open. However, Arthur was still wrapping his head around his feelings for Alice, he didn’t need to be more confused about things. There was still that nagging voice in the back of his mind that sounded a lot like Mary telling him he didn’t deserve this. He found it amazing how just seeing people that he had known for months and years in a different light could quite literally flip his world.

Arthur bit the end of his pencil as he looked down at his notebook at what he had been writing.

He sighed, loudly.

He had it bad.

Before he could continue down the confusing rabbit-hole that was his emotions, he heard Molly call out for him from across the way. She was seated under a tree near the horses, overlooking the lake.

“Yes, Miss O’Shea?” Arthur helped her to her feet as he neared.

“Ah, call me Molly, would ya?” Her accent lilted. “Arthur, how is Dutch? I-I mean how does he seem to you?”

Arthur grumbled, shaking his head lightly in confusion. “About the same as usual, I guess?”

“I…I really love him, you know, but if he…” Her train of thought shifted. “Like he always says, loyalty is everything, so…”

Molly placed her hands on her hips, trying to find the right words. Arthur was still trying to figure out what she was trying to get at when Uncle called his name, running up to them.

“Excuse me, Miss O’Shea.” Uncle pushed past her with a gentle hand on her shoulder earning a glare from the woman.

“What’chu want?” Arthur growled.

“I bring a gift,” Uncle smiled. “The great gift of information.”

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head. “So, you got some tip off, so now, I can risk my neck, and make you some money, while you lounge around.”

Molly waved Arthur off, realizing she wasn’t being heard anymore. Arthur gave her an apologetic smile.

“You know, Arthur, bitterness, it works on the inside, as well as on your sour face.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, trying to walk away from the man.

“If you say so, but you can go find some other fool to run your errands.” Arthur sniffed as he leaned against the nearby tree.

Just then, Charles and Bill happened to walk by and Uncle flagged them down.

“Bill, come over here!”

Charles gave Arthur a questioning look from where he was to which Arthur shrugged as he lit a cigarette.

“Will you be my other fool?” Arthur didn’t have to turn around to know that Uncle was smiling at him as he said it. “You too, Charles.”

“What are you talking about?” Bill questioned with his hands.

“Arthur’s above a little stick up I heard about.”

Arthur’s head shot up. “No I’m not?”

“Well you just said-“

“Hey, I’ll do it as long as you ride with us.” Arthur spoke as he moved to stand next to Bill and Charles.

Uncle sputtered. “I got a serious medical condition.”

Arthur wheezed as he blew smoke out. “Yes, you are a compulsive liar.” He grinned at Uncle who puffed out his chest.

“No need to be like that. Charles, have I ever lied to you?”

Charles’s face scrunched together in confusion. “I hardly know you.”

Arthur smiled at his confused expression when Charles looked over at him. It was adorable, really. Arthur coughed on the smoke he inhaled when he gasped at that thought.

“Exactly.” Uncle continued, ignoring the coughing fit Arthur was having. “Now you boys should do this, it’s easy and I’ll only take a small commission for my information, but it’s now or never.”

Arthur rolled his eyes once more as he put the offending cigarette out. “Then it’s never.”

“Oh, God help me.” Uncle sighed dramatically. “Fine, I’ll do it!”

Arthur laughed, knowing he’d won. “Well, what is it?”

Arthur and Charles walked side by side as Uncle explained the job, sharing a knowing look.

This probably wasn’t going to go as planned.

******

Charles leaned his head against his forearm as he kept watch in the barn. He just knew this just was too good to be true. Nothing ever seems to go as planned anymore for the gang.

It had all started fairly well. The act of stopping and robbing the wagon went fine, it was just the addition of extra security that threw a wrench in the plan. So now here they were, crammed in a dilapidated barn with no horses, just hoping that no one would find them out here in the middle of the night. They had put some pretty good distance between them and Cornwall’s men but still, Charles was wary.

He flinched every time Uncle or Bill would snore, knowing it could blow their cover. Charles looked down at his feet to where Arthur was resting, his head leaning against Charles’s leg. Charles reached up and ran his hand over his hair. There was a small braid behind his ear that Arthur had put there the other day. He had used the excuse of wanting more practice but Charles could see through it, even if Arthur couldn’t.

It was during a late-night fireside chat that Charles had confessed that he perhaps had been thinking of Arthur as more than just a friend. He was a little surprised at Alice’s reaction at first. She had a little bit to drink that night so her emotions were high and had asked if that meant he’d rather have Arthur than her. Charles had laughed at that which just caused the poor girl more confusion. She understood though when he explained that it was just the same as her having feelings for both men, that he had feelings for her and Arthur. Or at least, he was considering it. The day Arthur kissed him – albeit on the cheek – he knew his feelings were confirmed. It was different than his feelings for Alice. With Alice he felt as though he had found his other half, his soul-mate, if he dared use the term. He could see himself with her as long as their way of life would allow. And however long society would allow, since it was a stickler for their kind of relationship. But with Arthur it seemed as though he had found a partner. It just felt natural. Two people who were very similar but also so different, coming together. It just worked.

Charles shook his thoughts away – those could be saved for another day. The other men were starting to wake up. Arthur suggested trying to get out of there now that it was nightfall. Uncle started grumbling something but Charles was quick to shut him up.

His eyes squinted as he spotted lights coming over the hill in the distance.

“Damn.” Arthur whispered, coming to stand next to Charles. “L-let’s just keep this calm. See what happens.” He motioned for everyone to get into hiding.

Charles backed into a corner, engulfing himself in the darkness. He could see Bill clear as day and was not confident that the man would remain hidden if anyone decided to check the barn.

Just as he had that thought the owner of the home shouted to the men knocking on his door about some noises in the barn. Charles cursed to himself. He and Arthur stared at one another as two men came closer to the barn. If they were fast enough they could probably take the men out without the others noticing too quickly. They nodded to each other, as if coming to the same thought. The men walked into the barn and Charles was certain they just might get out of this alive until Bill slipped on something in the back of the barn, causing all hell to break lose. Charles was quick to pull out his sawed-off and shoot the man closest to him. Arthur got the other man but they could already hear the shouts from the men outside the barn, as well as more being called in as backup. They were surrounded. Every opening to the barn that Charles could see was blocked and his hopes of all of them getting out alive was quickly dwindling.

“Behind you, Charles!”

Charles turned around but before he could fire off a shot, the man was already dead. He turned back to see Arthur nodding at him, reloading his gun.

They were firing from every angle but the number of enemies never seemed to go down. Charles grunted in pain as he felt a bullet whizz by his face, no doubt adding another scar to his collection.

“They’re coming in from all sides!” Bill yelled out.

“Oh, shit…fire!” Arthur yelled out. “The oil from that lantern!”

Charles look around, trying to assess the situation. Burning to death or getting shot to death cornered in a barn was not exactly how he saw himself going out. His irritation was growing with every passing second.

“Nicely done, Bill.” He growled out. “They teach you that move in the army too?”

“Can’t you keep your fat feet still for ten goddamn seconds?” Uncle chimed in.

Bill looked between the two men for a moment. “You got us into this!”

All of the men went back to shooting as their attackers got steadily closer. It was like there was no end to them.

“How about we stop robbing Cornwall’s men for a while?” Charles glanced at Arthur who returned a knowing look.

“I didn’t know we was robbing Cornwall, aright?” Uncle retorted, clearly annoyed that his plan didn’t work out.

“If we don’t get out of here soon we’re charcoal.” Arthur looked around at the barn as it started falling apart. Beams were now blocking a lot of the open windows.

Charles put his sawed off away, focusing on trying to find a way out while the others kept shooting. He headed towards the back wall. It was the side with most of the fire, but was also the side with none of Cornwall’s men. He assessed the standing wall, wondering how hard it would be to break through when another beam fell from the ceiling causing him to jump back with a shout.

Charles turned to the men. “This whole place is catching!”

“Come on, old man!” Bill yelled out as he ran towards the opposite wall.

Charles winced as he watched Bill ram his leg through the wood. No doubt he’d be feeling it later if the adrenaline wasn’t working through his system. Uncle was quick to follow Bill out of the barn as they both fired away at anyone outside. Charles stepped through, looking back at Arthur who was still firing shots away in the fire.

“Come on, Arthur!” He yelled out, his voice harsh from the smoke.

He ran back, grabbing Arthur by the hand to pull him out of the building. They didn’t let go of each other until they were heading towards the woods nearby, following Bill and Uncle. They had a bit of a reprieve as it seemed no one had noticed they had escaped for the time being.

“Where we going, Bill?” Charles called out, wondering what the plan was.

��We’ll try to lose them in the woods!”

They reached a dried riverbed.

“Let’s split up a bit, try to confuse ‘em.” Uncle whispered. “Arthur, with me.”

Charles and Arthur looked at one another briefly. Charles knew the man could handle himself, still, his newfound feelings didn’t make it any easier to separate from him in this situation. The four parted ways and Charles begrudgingly followed Bill.

“Anything dumb, Williamson, and you’re on your own.” Charles grumbled.

“Oh, shut the hell up.”

******

Alice had just come back from a rather successful hunt – three rabbits, a turkey, and a rather nicely sized deer. She was helping Pearson skin the rabbits when Uncle, Bill, Charles, and Arthur finally returned. She knew they had left for a job yesterday but it was supposed to have been a simple robbery. Sufficed to say she spent most of the night a nervous wreck which is why she felt the need to go hunting this morning.

She quickly dropped the rabbit she was skinning, shouting an apology to Pearson as she ran towards her men.

“Charles! Arthur!” She nearly collided into Arthur from her speed.

The men smiled down at her, enjoying her worry over them.

She took the chance to look over the men individually to make sure they were intact. They were both rubbing her arms as she reached their faces, her neck craning up to examine every angle. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the wound on Charles’s face. It was just a scratch but still, that was a very close call. She wasn’t sure if it was because it was her time of the month or not, but her emotions seemed to be heightened as the thought alone of how close she could have come to losing Charles was enough to cause her chin to start wobbling and her eyes to burn. Both men sighed as they pulled her in close to their chests. Alice gripped their shirts, taking in the smell of them. They smelled of smoke. She could feel them surround her, hugging each other as well. She didn’t care if everyone in camp was watching them, she was just glad that they were okay.

“Ya’ll can’t keep giving me heart attacks like this. You hear?” She tried to sound firm but the sniffle that followed didn’t help.

“Yes ma’am.” Arthur hummed into her hair, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Charles hummed in agreement, squeezing her tighter.

The three released one another but Alice was still riding on her emotional high. Again, she didn’t care that they were within view of everyone in camp. She grabbed Arthur’s face and pulled him down to meet her as she crushed their lips together. When she released him she did the same with Charles.

She could feel her face beginning to warm. Sure, she had kissed both men in private. But they had never kissed her in front of each other. That day in the field was as close as they had gotten. But Alice didn’t care. It felt right. Still, she kept her head down as she looked up at both of them through her eyelashes. They were staring between each other and her. As if figuring out what to do next. They smiled. Alice couldn’t tell if she should be happy or afraid that they both smiled at the same time. She tried to back away as they both leaned forward but Arthur grabbed her by the waist before she could get too far. He pulled her in close, dipping her back a bit to kiss her hard. A little too hard, but she wouldn’t complain. The man was much larger than her it was easy for him to forget. Alice had to grab onto his suspenders in order to keep her balance. When he placed her back on her feet she felt Charles spin her around before she had time to think about what was happening. Her stomach did flips as she was lifted into the air, her body seemed to weigh nothing to the man. It was interesting being taller than Charles and it certainly made kissing the man all the more interesting. She grabbed handfuls of his hair as they kissed and by the time he placed her back on the ground all her previous worries were long forgotten. She smiled between the two men before she heard applause and whistles from behind her. She jumped in her skin, quickly hiding her face in her hands as the camp whooped and hollered. Alice laughed to herself as she heard Arthur yell at everyone to mind their own business.

“Come on you two, let’s get ya’ll cleaned up.”

#fic: crossroads #my ocs: alice harkins #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x oc x charles smith #arthur morgan x oc #charles smith x oc #arthur morgan x charles smith #arthur morgan #charles smith #rdr2 fic

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kitsuningtonshippoknockoff · 5 years ago

Text

A Chat in the Basement

This little fic is about a hypothetical meeting between Kit and Lawrence, some time after Kit and Ren have settled into their relationship. Gore and insanity warnings apply, and also this probably needs beta reading but I really wanted to get it out. Enjoy~

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Kit knows from experience that waking up to an utterly livid stranger staring you straight in the face whilst you’re strapped to a chair with rope and duct tape is a disorienting experience. He is, however, disinclined to engage his empathy.

“W-wha—”

“Why were you following Ren?”

“I… who are--?”

“Answer. The question.”

The basement really is a marvelous setting for interrogations. The lighting is nice and sinister, and although they’ve thrown out all Strade’s old tools except The Knife, Ren thought that it might be nice to get a new set to actually use as intended. Kit agreed. Very useful. Very symbolic.

And so the walls are covered in perfectly innocent tools that look very, very scary in dim fluorescent light.

The man is still stuttering. He is, the more lascivious part of Kit notes, a very attractive man in a sort of bishonen lumberjack way. This makes Kit angrier. He and Ren have very similar tastes, so Ren would probably find him attractive too. That makes him even more dangerous to Ren. Ren needs to be protected from beautiful danger. Especially beautiful danger that smells so… off.

Kit sighs through his nose, teeth clenched behind his lips. His fox ears are lowered, and his tail twitches. He’s sitting on a chair turned backward, as if he’s a school guidance counselor about to “level” with a problem student. The knife (The Knife) he pulls and puts to the man’s throat is not standard issue for guidance counselors. The man whimpers and tries to pull back.

“You were following Ren,” Kit says, “Not just both of us. It was Ren you were after. My Ren. My perfect, beautiful Ren.” Kit’s voice takes on a slightly dreamy, distracted tone. “Maybe a human wouldn’t have noticed you, out in the dark, but I did. I think Ren did, too. He’s been… edgier than normal. We used to like going out at night, you know?” He fixes the man with a glare, and when next he speaks his tone is like flint. “But the last few times you’ve been out there with us. And you were watching my Ren.”

“Your…? I—no, that’s not what I—”

“Do not lie to me,” Kit hisses, teeth bared. “Do not lie. I’ve been a liar all my life and I know a lie when I smell it.” The choice of words was deliberate, though leaving room for plausible deniability, and Kit is interested to see a quick flash of anger (panic?) at the word ‘smell’. So. He knows then. Kit wasn’t sure, because some smells that are obvious to him go completely unnoticed by humans.

“I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to follow him,” the man says, “I just—I wanted to find him again, just once, to talk to him, but—you were always there.” His tone, still tremulous, turns slightly accusatory. “Why were you always there? Who—who are you? What’s—what’s this thing on my neck? Where am I, you can’t--”

Kit lets loose a shriek, teeth bared, incisors gleaming. It’s deeper than a real red fox’s scream of aggression would sound, but it’s just as inhuman—almost but not quite human-- and it has the desired effect. The man cowers as best he can, wide-eyed and silent. Kit leans back. His expression is nearly blank but threatens a sneer.

“Sir,” Kit says, “You do not get to tell me what I cannot do. Not here, not now.” He pauses. “Alright. You say you wanted to talk to Ren. I think that is bullshit, but let’s pretend I do not. What did you want to talk to him about? And why couldn’t you do it while I was there?” He leans forward. “What couldn’t you say to Ren in front of his lover?” Again, a pointed choice of words, and Kit is fascinated to see… pain. Hurt. This man feels excluded, does he? Well, Kit will have to impress upon him the fact that Ren chose Kit once he’s done asking questions.

“Ren is—was—we were—are… were friends once. Or… maybe we still are? I… don’t know. The last time we talked we… had a problem. He had a problem.” The volume of the man’s voice has been dropping steadily as he speaks. Kit is annoyed. “His path split from mine,” the man finishes in a whisper.

Yes, Kit wants to scream, His path split from yours and joined with mine he joined with me he’s part of me I’m part of him and you don’t get to have him you don’t get to tear us apart you don’t get to have him Ren is mine, mine, MINE—

Kit takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He lowers the knife; he doesn’t trust himself with it.

“Why am I here?” the man whines wretchedly, “Please, I didn’t—I wasn’t going to hurt any—I wasn’t going to hurt Ren! I was going to be careful, all I wanted was to talk! I wanted to know why he l-left me, and then never... never talked to me again… not even online…” Kit opens his eyes, and for a brief moment makes eye-contact with the man before his eyes dart back down to his shoes. It’s not enough to set up a hypnotic bond, but it is enough for Kit to feel a sudden, unwelcome surge of fellow feeling. Even terrified, taped to a chair, and alone with an enemy, this man still feels the pain of losing Ren.

Kit can relate. He does not want to.

“Look at me,” he says, and for the first time the man shows defiance. His brow furrows, and he staunchly refuses to look up. Kit grunts irritably. “Sir, I spent some time rifling through your pockets before you woke up.” At that the man does look up, shocked, and Kit grabs his face with both hands. He worried the man’s eyes would dart away before he could get a hold of him, but sure enough the man’s eyes dilate and he relaxes slightly. Whatever this man is, he’s susceptible to Kit’s hypnotism. Of course the current situation isn’t ideal for giving orders, but it should make him a little more cooperative.

“Now then,” Kit says. He keeps his voice low and even, pleasant. “When I looked through your pockets, I found a few things that most people would not be carrying. Drugs, but not anything I’ve seen on the street before.” A small flicker of confusion appears in the man’s eyes.

“Then how do you even… know they’re drugs? I… I make medicine…”

Kit leans back, keeping eye contact. Strictly speaking, he doesn’t have to keep from blinking, but he still tries to do so. The burning of his eyes is a small price to pay for not letting this fucker out of his sight.

“Did you know,” Kit says, “That the word ‘drug’ is derived from the Dutch word ‘droog’? It literally means ‘dry’, but in this context it was dried plants that people referred to. You know, plants used for… medicinal purposes.”

As he’s speaking, he notices the man relax even more. Bingo. As Kit thought, this topic of conversation genuinely interests him. Figures; the strange herbal blends he had on him could only have been made by someone who had taken time to study this stuff. That makes the charm work better. Even though the man still has every reason to be terrified, he might be a little more honest this way.

“And we all know,” Kit continues, “That the words ‘drug’ and ‘medicine’ used to be interchangeable. So I do believe you, sir, when you say you make medicine. But the dose makes the poison, as they say. And you can understand why the thought of you--” poisoning my Ren, my Ren, if you did that I’d kill you “—doing something like that to Ren would make me unhappy. Even if it wasn’t a fatal poison.”

“No…” his captive says, frowning. “It’s not… I didn’t have any poison with me. I can make poison. But I never mix it up with anything else unless…” he trails off. Oh, for the love of Kuma Lisa, the fucker is blushing.

Wait… what?

Why would anyone blush when they were talking about poison?

Kit’s eyes flicker down to his captive’s red-stained shirt, the gory elephant in the room.

“I wasn’t going to poison Ren,” the man continues before Kit can press that point, “I might… I might have asked him to… drink something with the herbs in it—” it is all Kit can to to keep from clawing this creature’s throat out, biting it out, make him bleed drink his blood—“But I—I would have drunk some too. So we could—so we could talk to each other without being nervous.” The man looks down. For a moment Kit considers grabbing his face again, but he restores eye contact himself. “Ren and I both get nervous. And we… don’t always… make good decisions.” His brow furrows. “Why do your eyes make me feel better? Your eyes are like… my medicine… like looking down into the water…”

Oh, ew.

“Limpid pools, I’m sure,” Kit says drily “Listen—"

“Not pools,” the man interrupts. “Like… a river. Not the river but… they flow. When the light shines against them, like a sunset… or moonlight… glitters on the current…” the man shakes his head, obviously trying t clear it. “I think I hate you. I hate you for hurting me. For tying me up. And… I hate you because you have Ren, and I don’t. But I could keep the river in your eyes forever.”

Oh, ew, ew, ewww. The only reason the man managed to get that overwrought little prose-poem out is that Kit is speechless with (mostly) revulsion. His charm makes people think better of him, so it’s not like it’s the first time he’s hypnotized somebody and they’ve started getting gushy. But this is the first time it’s happened with someone he actively loathes and vice versa. And he’s pissed off with himself for being almost flattered by what amounts to someone saying ‘I would tear on your eyes and keep them on a nightstand if I ever got the chance’.

Maybe it’s hypocritical to get creeped out by that when Kit and Ren have mutually pledged to eat each other’s heart if one of them dies before the other, but there are things you do with your boyfriend that you don’t do with anyone else, and romantic dismemberment is one of them.

Kit runs a hand through his silvery hair, and his tail swishes behind him.

“So you mean to tell me you were stalking Ren on the off chance you could get him alone so that you could get high together and… what? Talk things out?”

The man smiles a hesitant, hopeful smile. He’s blushing again. It’s uncomfortably endearing.

“You understand,” his captive murmurs.

“Let’s say I do,” says Kit. “Now, let’s take a minute and think about how I fit into all this. Or rather, how I don’t.” He takes the man’s face in his hands, thumbs just below his eyes. His captive doesn’t resist at all, gazing back levelly. “Would you have killed me to get Ren alone?”

“Only if I had to,” the man says calmly. “I didn’t plan on it. I had something to knock you out. Special medicine. You wouldn’t even have woken up with a headache.”

“But if you had no choice, you would have killed me,” Kit says, “Is that true?”

The man shrugs as best he can tied up.

“I hated you even before you did this to me. Because Ren loves you, I think. And… I want Ren to love me. Only me. I want to be the only person Ren needs.”

There’s that unwelcome consanguinity of spirit again. Kit grinds his teeth.

“But I didn’t really have a plan. I thought maybe I could just take him from you. I didn’t need to kill you.”

For a moment, everything is still.

Then there is blood, and screaming.

When kit is done the man’s clothing is considerably more tattered, and his eyes are huge and terrified. There are four raw, bleeding claw marks on his right cheek, and fang marks in his shoulder.

“Listen to me,” Kit coos, pulling back and licking the blood off his lips. He cradles the man’s head, forcing him to look at his eyes again. Kit wonders if it feels terrible to want to approve of your kidnapper. He hopes so. “Listen, Lawrence. Oh, don’t look surprised, of course I know your name, I rummaged through your wallet. Lawrence, you have to understand,” Kit smiles with all his teeth, “That the only way to take Ren from me is to kill me. Because Ren and I are not two separate people. We are one pair of lovers. Yes, lovers. I do not exist without Ren. By definition, taking Ren away from me nullifies my entire being. It is more than death to lose Ren. It is worse than death to lose Ren. So much worse that I really don’t have words to describe it.” He laughs. The laughter goes on a little longer than he intends, and the dim lights shine off his red-stained teeth as well as his eyes.

“Lawrence, I get the idea that you’re not the most stable bloke around. Hey, it’s OK; as you can see, I’m not really the picture of mental health either!” He laughs again, but manages to stifle it into a brief giggle. “I have had a really, really shitty fucking life. I have a feeling that’s something we’ve got in common. So part of me doesn’t blame you for wanting Ren. Ren is like every soft, slow day in late summer rolled into one beautiful being. Ren is like a fire that heals you instead of burning. Ren is like the blood that flows in your veins… but cleaner. Right?” He leans down to lick Lawrence’s cheek, and Lawrence flinches. There is something wrong about Lawrence’s blood, something sick. Kit feels drunk on blood and rage.

“But you can’t have Ren. No, never. Even if you kill me, I’ll still be there, waiting inside him. And one night, maybe when you’re lying beside him, or even if you’re in another room, I’ll just crawl up out of Ren’s mouth, I’ll slither out of his eyes, and I will hurt you, Lawrence. I’ll hurt you and I’ll keep hurting you. I’ll claw and shred and eat every soft part of your body, Lawrence. I’ll stick my claws in your brain and shove splinters in your dreams. Being dead won’t stop me. Being dead won’t make me gentle.” He presses his face close to Lawrence, dimly aware that he’s panting. He hopes Lawrence can smell the rotten blood on his breath.

“I would do anything for Ren,” Kit hisses, “Anything. Anything to make him happy. Anything to keep him safe. I would kill you. I would kill myself. If I thought Ren wanted it, I would hurt myself. I’d let you hurt me, if Ren asked. I would let you stick your fingers under my skin and rip my tendons apart with your teeth. I’d let you slice my muscles to bits with your weak little human fingernails.” Lawrence is panting too, lost in Kit’s eyes, in his words. “Can you say the same, Lawrence? Can you love Ren enough to let yourself be destroyed? No. No, you couldn’t, not even if you wanted to.” Kit leans back. He lets his hand trail almost tenderly down Law’s throat just below his collar to his chest, where tattered fabric sticks to gore.

It was bloody even before their little conversation.

“I killed you,” Kit says. He sounds less unhinged now, the bloodlust slowly starting to fade. He’s just kind of irritated. “Knife right between the ribs, right into your heart. It was a good kill.” He glares at Lawrence, fox ears lowered. “I took you down here. I was gonna burn you,” He’s gratified to see Lawrence go pale, “But then you started breathing. And fuck me, what am I supposed to do with that?” He paces a little.

“I don’t know if burning you would work. I don’t know if that would somehow make you stronger, or whatever, like salamanders.”

Lawrence blinks, still frightened but also confused.

“But amphibians need to stay w—”

“There’s a mythological creature, shut the fuck up,” snaps Kit. “I mean, not even mythological. They exist, like kitsune do. You know Ren’s a kitsune too? Well he is. And he’s mine, and I need to keep him safe from you, and all I can think of to do that right now is to keep you locked up, except…” Kit sighs. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, and is immediately annoyed to have another parallel with Lawrence.

“Ren is smart. And Ren lived in this house with a serial killer—yes, yes, right surprising, I know—and he is probably gonna figure out I’m keeping someone down here. And I really don’t know how he’s gonna feel when he learns it’s you. He never… he never forgot about you.” Lawrence looks up sharply.

“Yes. Ha. He’s mentioned you. He’s never forgiven himself for flaking out; just too scared to try talking to you again. And as messed up as Ren is, I’m… not sure he’ll hate you as much as he’s supposed to.” Kit stares into the distance, as if the basement wall holds some secret. “I know he doesn’t hate me like he should.”

Lawrence watches warily as Kit walks over the basement sink and washes the blood off his hands. He grabs a towel from a rack beside the sink, wets it, and proceeds to clean Lawrence up a little. The captive does his best not to flinch, which isn’t much.

“I am telling you all this because you might get your conversation after all, and I don’t want there to be any miscommunication. We’ll figure out what to do with you. Might be he’ll want to keep you, and I... I want Ren to have what he wants. I’d-- I’d do anything for him. If that wasn’t clear.” Kit tosses the washcloth into a laundry hamper without looking. Then he flicks Lawrence’s collar with a claw, causing a little red light on it to flicker.

“Don’t try to get away. I’ve set this thing to kill you if you try to leave the basement. And while that might seem like something you’d just get over, let me assure you that electrocution ain’t fun.” Kit sighs. “Woulda been so much easier if you just died when you were supposed to…”

“Yes,” Lawrence says softly, eyes downcast.

Kit hadn’t been expecting that.

Kit thinks hard about that ‘yes’ as he walks up the basement stairs, and is troubled.

#kit fic #cw: blood #cw: violence #cw: mental instability #cw: general yandereness

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wordsmithic · 6 years ago

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~ Opinion on the ancient Greek Erasmian pronounciation ~

Whoop disclaimers!

Ι am not an expert and I don't claim that this text has scientific value. I am doing this because I am the only person who wants to/can talk about that and I wanted to start that discussion with whatever I have. By all means, do your research and contrast me. Have I written something wrong? Correct me! Have something better to say? Say it! I would be very happy to see the other side of the argument.

Who are you?

Native Greek speaker with..."B2-C1" knowledge in ancient Greek (lol xD) and having the experience of often hearing medieval Greek as well.

Why you can have an opinion on this?

It may surprise you but ancient, medieval and mordern Greek are connected. I don’t know why, but most people are shocked by it - mostly Americans (not the natives), that don’t know what is to have your culture in a land for more than 500 years. Same thing happens with other countries, like India (one of the many examples), where the roots and words of the ancient language can be found until today. Same with modern Italian that can be traced back to Latin. Some people make the mistake to compare English and Latin and not the actual language that has continued evolving in the same area. Remember, people, the area is very important!

To put some things in perspective, firstly there was the Homeric one, then the Hellenistic Koine (common Greek) in the era of the New Testament and then Byazntine (medieval) and modern Greek. While there were dialects in between, I will just focus on those four.

Now, Erasmian It's quite far from Koine. But overall, Koine was much closer to Modern Greek than Homeric. On the other hand, there are many similarities between Homeric and the Koine. Oddly, even I can read the texts of Odyssey and Homeric Hymns and understand a great part of them. (Link 1 , Link 2)

And while ancient Greek is not my major, at least I have the basis to start the discussion. Experts can take it from here and elaborate.

Why do this?

Y'all are killing the difthogs in the name of that pronounciation even in modern Greek and I can't take it any more. xD Eeeeeeeh I mean,

1) I would like to write a small piece where I analyze why Erasmian shouldn’t be used so widely.

2) Ask why Greeks themselves have been ignored in the academic discussion and are hindered by bringing elements on the table! (I am pretty sure that if it was for any other country people would call it a racist behavior on behalf of the Whites, but I digress).

So what is your opinion?

I think that the Erasmian shouldn’t be used for every purpose, but I am not am not condeming it! In fact, it can be very useful in teaching. However, some of its elements don’t make sense and seems to be heavily influenced by the north european languages.

And before you accuse me of a nationalist motive, let me say that modern Greek is not like ancient Greek either. There is no reason denying the fact. The ancient language has swifted and changed a lot and an ancient guy would be able to catch what we are saying, but not understand us completely.

And I still don’t know why we just decided to take the word of a Dutch man in the 1750–60s than the actual records of Greek speaking people of that era. And, unfortunatelly, this has stuck in Academia. :)

Anything to support your claim?

Let’s start plain and simple. It makes ancient Greek sound out of any meter in poetry and that's a sign that it's not the 100% correct one. So, again, use it, but maybe don’t swear by it.

The phonology and morphology it supports doesn’t make sense from a practical standpoint. It was a weird aspiration and it completely disregards diphthongs. My focus is mainly on the diphthongs, because that’s what people disagree the most on.

What are the diphthongs?

ai (ΑΙ, αι) = e (as in Germ. or Swed. ä) = ai (as two sounds)

ei (ΕΙ, ει) = i = ei (as two sounds)

oi (ΟΙ, οι) = i = oi (as two sounds)

ui (ΥΙ, υι) = i = ui or yi (as two sounds)

au (ΑΥ, αυ) = av (before vowel or b, g, d, z l, m, n, r) or af (before all other consonants) = au (a two sounds)

eu (ΕΥ, ευ) = ev or ef (as above) = eu (as two sounds)

BUT according to the Erasmian style, “ai” is pronounced “ah-ee”, “oi” = “oh-ee” etc. So, two vowels no longer create one vowel, but they are seen as two seperete vowels. Why isn’t this accurate?

Let’s take some examples from words that have passed in English (again, correct me if I had taken something for the wrong reasons):

ΜΟΥΣΑ (muse) has passed as "Muse" (with ou = ooh) and not as "Moh-ooh-sa".

ΔΑΙΜΩΝ has passed as "Demon" and not as "Da-eeh-mon".

ΑΡΧΑΙΟΣ. Ι will use ΑΡΧΑΙΟΛΟΓΙΑ for this one, since English speakers will know it as "archeology" and not as "ar-cha-ee-oh-lo-gy".

ΜΟΙΡΑΙ: (moirai) is pronounced “míreh”, not “moh-ee-rah-eh”, as it would be with the Erasmian.

I used those words beacuse didn’t pass to latin languages in modern times, but some centuries before. It’s not the strongest evidence, but I believe it’s enough to make some people understand that diphthongs were valid and left their signature even when passed to other languages.

“But, why should there be diphthongs? Why do you need to have so many “i” and so many “e”?”

0) My people weren’t stupid. Everything was there for a reason.

1) Every word has a root in it and the diphthong can show us that root (there were some roots that had almost the same pronounciation and orthography/spelling helped distinguish them). For example, παις (pes) = child, πες (pes) = some form of the verb “say”.

2) To distinguish singular from plural form. (-αι was used in female plural, for example).

3) In verbs, to distinguish “me” from “It“ and active from passive voice. (-ε was for active and -αι was for passive).

Another reason why not taking diphthongs into consideration is that you create a Hiatus or the Chasmodic phenomenon.

Ancient greeks cut or modified vowels when there were too many of them together and that's why we know that this second Erasmian pronounciation is absolutely horrendous for the ancient standards. For example it was "apékrouon" (απέκρουον) and not "apoékrouon" when you combine the από + έκρουον (apo + ekrouon).

Imagine how bad it would sound if you had the ancient word Αοιδοί (ΑΟΙΔΟΙ) and you made it sound like "ah-oh-ee-doh-ee" instead of just "ah-ee-dee". Or the ancient word ΠΑΙΔΕΙΑ that is pronounced “pe-dee-ah” instead of “pah-ee-deh-ee-ah”.

Some sources that probably make more sense than I do:

Filologia Neotestamentaria 8 (1995), pp. 151-185. which you can read here. I found this post that amplifies it a little.

This post, where Nick Nicholas, PhD Modern Greek dialectology, linguist at Thesaurus Linguae Graecae, lists some cons of the Erasmian.

Rod Decker, a trained linguist, long-time Greek teacher, published grammarian, and author of an excellent first-year grammar, said (this post may help) : “Erasmian is usually selected for its pedagogical value, not for historical purposes. Some form of Erasmian pronunciation is fairly standard in academic circles. It is not what Greek sounded like in the Koine of the first century, but it has the pedagogical advantage of distinguishing vowel sounds, many of which have similar pronunciations in other systems. [...] Personally I use a traditional Erasmian system, freely acknowledging that it is not an accurate representation of exactly what Jesus and Paul sounded like when they spoke Greek.”

You may want to check the paper “Thomas Jefferson’s argument concerning the pronunciation of Ancient Greek” link . Its conclusion is this: So, is it wrong to apply Modern Greek pronunciation to Homer or Aristotle? No! But one must be careful to admit that Homer and Aristotle may have spoken their language quite differentlythan the Modern Pronunciation allows. Likewise, is it wrong to pronounce Classical Greek withan American, German or French tone with the reconstructed method? No again! But one must also admit that the Reconstructed System of Pronunciation is somewhat flawed and the actual speech in classical times may be closer to Modern Speech than one would want to admit.

My conclusion? (TL;DR)

The Erasmian pronounciation is heavily westernized and probably flawed but we can’t condemn it, as it helps foreigners understand the language better. However, modern Greek shouldn’t be ignored as it’s the evolution of the ancient language and could provide us with many clues for the ancient system. Despite its differences from the ancient style, there are still very strong ancient elements in it.

Bonus: Suggestion for those who participate in the worship of the Greek Pantheon today and wonder how to refer to their gods.

Honestly, do whatever you want! However, in case you want to be in sync with modern Greeks who worship the Pantheon consider using the modern pronounciation. In my opinion, faith is evolving and there is no reason to do it 100% the ancient way. While you should have knowledge of the ancient words and the context in which they were written, don’t be afraid to ward off the path of the Erasmian pronounciation. Searching you will see that modern Greek is not too far from the ancient, after all. There is no need for academic language, unless you feel comfortable using it! You already have different, modernized, shrines and practices from the ancient worshippers and that is valid!

#oooooofff that was sooo long to write #greek #erasmian pronounciation #mine

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planetarywho · 6 years ago

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15 Questions for 15 Followers

Ok, that’s new. Never done that before. Thought I’d give it a try.

Hey, @noir-renard! So, it took me a couple of centuries to write back, but here it is... Sorry! I’m not terribly used to actually answering questions, it turns out, and got a bit distracted... But here it is!

The answers are a bit long. I may have gotten carried away.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Yes, I am! My mother adores Audrey Hepburn and all her movies, and named me after Sabrina Fairchild, arguably the most dramatic of Audrey’s protagonists (and one of my mom’s favourite movies).

2. When was the last time you cried?

I believe I almost cried yesterday, reading a story, but not quite. For me to cry it is usually like that, when books are involved (be them on paper or audio). But if the question is more towards real life crying, then it would be about two weeks ago, when Lady Migraine was particularly nasty for a few days in a row.

3. Do you have kids?

No kids, just pets! Currently, a dog (though I live with two other dogs and one cat), a small and troublesome creature that I love with all my heart.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Not even a little bit.

Sorry, story time: my mom and I have very similar voices. When I was in high school, a friend of mine, when calling my landline, decided that it was only safe to assume it was actually me talking if the answer to his question: “Sabrina, are you sure it’s you?” was not a very understanding “yes, of course it’s me” - in which case he believed to being messed with by us - but something on the lines of “no, I’m not quite sure. Maybe you should ask again.” or “sorry, I was so very wrong, it’s actually Santa!”. Then, and only then, he’d start talking.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about a person?

I think it depends on the person, really. There isn’t a universal answer. Sometimes, people have something striking about them that is very particular. I suppose I notice posture a lot, and movement. Hair and hands fall into this category as well. I never pay a lot of initial attention to shape, I think, as much as to motion. So, visually, that’s it. Voice is also something that i notice a lot, even when I don’t see someone - the sound and the tone, with bonus points if the vocabulary being used seems fascinating. But people-watching is something of a habit I’ve had for too many years, to the point where it’s maybe a bit tricky to actually pinpoint first impressions.

6. What’s your eye color?

Gray-ish blue, or blue-ish gray, depending on the weather, but my pupils are way too big, so once in awhile they look black at a distance, and I’m accused of being creepy on purpose. Nope. Just have bad genetics.

7. Scary movie or happy ending?

So difficult! Happy ending, even if I’m seemingly unable to write them (mine are usually bittersweet). But a good scary movie is always fun, and horror is a guilty pleasure!

8. Any special talents?

I’m very good at creating reasonably complex stories out of nowhere, and the same with games (a.k.a. “good teacher skills” meet “good DM skills”). I can read languages easily, even some that are very different from mine (a.k.a. “the day I had to read an article in Dutch, even though the closest thing to it that I speak is English”). I don’t know... A good ear (and tongue) for accents?

9. Where were you born?

Curitiba, Brazil (it’s in the south, the cold bit).

10. What are your hobbies?

Lots of reading, less writing than I wanted to, bookbinding, crochet, some amateur lettering, some ocasional painting, some... How do you describe making costumes? Lots of walking aimlessly through the city while listening to things. Lots of singing. Playing rpgs, and a few regular tabletop games. Baking, and decorating the results.

11. Do you have any pets?

The one listed as a daughter above. Her name is Amelié - I planed on calling her Amelia, actually, after Amelia Earhart, because she jumped so damn high when I adopted her, but I stopped by my mother’s house before going home, and she started calling her Amelié. That was two years ago. Last month, looking through some old family papers from my father’s side, I found out that my great grandmother, a french immigrant, was called Amelié as well, to my dad’s endless delight: now he can call my dog Granny every time he visits.

12. What sports do you play/ have you played?

I tried a few things. Karate was the one that lasted longer, and my absolute favourite, but I had to stop after a handful of years, because college happened. Before that, I tried artistic gymnastics for a couple of years, and ended up screwing up both my knees in the process, which was so not fun (and that’s what happens when you don’t warm up!). As a kid I tried a year of ballet, a few months of volleyball, a few of kung fu, and so on, but I changed schools often, and ended up not settling. I did yoga for a while as well, mainly because my mom owns a studio, but I find it boring as hell. Lately I’ve been wanting to learn rollerskating, and considered going back to karate, but there’s still not a lot of time.

13. How tall are you?

1,70 m (170 cm. I believe 5′7 is the closest in the american system? But honestly, i do not know for sure. Maybe it’s 5′6...)

14. Favorite subject at school?

Oh, well, if there were no projectiles (I had to convince all my P.E. teachers chess was a valid sport) or overly organic things involved, I liked it. So, anything but biology, really, and that one mostly because I fainted a lot and found it icky. History is a given, and so are Literature/ Languages and Philosophy, but I used to love Math and Physics as well - I even studied electronics in high school as a technical course. Ok, yeah, I loved studying. It was fun.

15. Dream job?

Honestly, i’d like for my hobby to became an actual profession, and for me to be able to write fiction full time, and be paid for it (so far, I’ve got three short stories published, neither of which ever resulted in payment). Who knows...

Now, for the tagging bit. There will not be 15 people here, sorry. I’m too much the awkward kid at the playground to call this many people, and will do so only in the name of... I don’t know. Curiosity about how something will be written? The same idea that this feels a lot like a giant virtual game of tag (in the old sense of the word), and I’m simply wanting to be friendly by inviting someone to play? I’ll stop, now. So, anyone who feel like it, really, go for it.

@sinner-orion - Hey, hon! Sorry, you sent me something very similar at around the same date, and I failed miserably to answer! This one was a bit smaller, and I felt weird posting two answer-y things together, so instead, I’m answering some here, and sending you a few different ones (also here, I guess), in case you feel like it. Again, sorry...

@trumpetsandbookmarks (Sorry, but your writing and art are always such fun!) @lizziestudieshistory (finding other lost historians around is a treasure) @aimtomisbehave-shootempolitely (you have good taste in scientific articles, so...) @mrbrojangles (I don’t know, you’re always very sweet. Consider this a friendly wave) @akiltfulofcumming (hey, there! Yep, mr. Cumming is distracting. Still, any other obsessions?)

Yep. That’s a good enough number. Sorry for the notes. And the excessive apologies.

#how does one tag such things?#ask game #ask... thing?#tag thingy?#by the gods i am bad at this #personal #sorry anyone who got this very long rambling in their notifications #and to noir-renard and sinner-orion sorry for the delay!#though i've technically only answered one of you

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the-dewofthesea · 7 years ago

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as I finally finished my master thesis, but still haven’t fixed my computer, so I decided to do a long list of harry potter themed questions combined from all those I could find around tumblr. click below to continue the journey into the magical world. be prepared it’s a lot of questions.

- Hogwarts, Ilvermorny, Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang? Hogwarts, even though through the weird rules of the Harry Potter world I should go to Beauxbatons, but I have nothing with those fancy french things. I really think there should be a school for other countires as well, I know there are some, but what about one for 'german' countries, like on a Alpine mountain top somewhere?

- Hogwarts House? Ravenclaw

- Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade? Diagon Alley, eventhough I would like something similar to Hogsmeade, a snowy cosy small village, but Hogsmeade itself gives me the creeps.

- Favorite shop? Dogweed & Deathcap, Flourish & Blotts, and Scribbulus.

- Your wand? Pine with Maple handle, 12¾", Phoenix feather core, quite flexible (bought at Gregorovitch Zauberstäbe)

Pine: The straight-grained pine wand always chooses an independent, individual master who may be perceived as a loner, intriguing and perhaps mysterious. Pine wands enjoy being used creatively, and unlike some others, will adapt unprotestingly to new methods and spells. / Maple: I have often found that those chosen by maple wands are by nature travelers and explorers; they are not stay-at-home wands, and prefer ambition in their witch or wizard, otherwise their magic grows heavy and lackluster. / Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic. / I have a wand which is 31cm at home, and it always feels a bit on the small side to me so I this is a bit bigger.

- Your blood status? half-blood, kind of what I’m already anyways. (you are not enough dutch, you are not enough german. oh well, whatever family)

- Owl, cat, or toad? White Ragdoll Cat. How much I would like to have a bird and owls are very practical in the magical world, I really want a cat as I have never owned one by myself before and this is my dream cat.

- Favourite Hogwarts subject? I literally can’t choose, I mean I’m a Ravenclaw after all. Probably on top of the list will be: Herbology, Charms, Potions, Transfiguration and Astronomy.

- Least favourite Hogwarts subject? Probably ancient runes, even though I find runes intriguing it seems just as boring as learning old Greek.

- Which Hogwarts subject would you be best at? if compared to real high school: arithmancy, but I to be honest either Herbology or Potions.

- What kind of student would you be? so again, I’m comparing this to my real school history. I would be very eager to learn all the subjects I actually like, might be very opposed to mandatory things that suck and get side tracked in the library every day by discovering another great book that hasn’t have anything to do with what I should actually be doing.

- How would your grades be? Outstanding, on anything I was passioned about. Exceeds Expectations, on anything else. and maybe an Acceptable for you know that one class or professor that just doesn’t work out. Done that, been there.

- Any extra-curricular subjects? I would love Ancient Studies, and anything to do with Arts or Music. I mean I study fine arts, so yeah.

- Favourite professor? From those we know the most: Minerva McGonagall. Otherwise maybe either Aurora Sinistra or Septima Vector. But to be honest we all know the most relaxed teacher was Remus Lupin.

- Favourite DADA teacher? Remus Lupin obviously.

- Your go to spell? Lumos, I sleep with the light on so this is an obvious one.

- Which spell do you think would be most useful to learn? I’m gonna be a nerd on this one and say; expelliarmus. cause if you do it right you may actually win a duel without doing anything else.

- Potions expert or charms expert? Potions, I rather put a lot of effort into being able to brew the perfect potion than dueling people.

- Patronus? a Jay bird, like the header of the post I made.

- Animagus? I would prefer it to be a cat, but as it mostly is similar to the patronus I guess I might end up being a bird. but who knows, being a libra might mean that I could be both when I’m in balance with both parts of my soul. Also the patronus is said to be able to change, as it might start to resemble your true love, and your animagus can’t be changed.

- What does amortentia smell like to you? Fresh fallen rain in a pine forest, liquid vanilla the moment it is poured into cake batter and probably something you don't realise what it is but turns out to be your soulmate.

- What would you see in the Mirror of Erised? Being free of all social and worldly problems, living in a small cabin near the woods.

- What would be your Boggart? A cloaked figure with a knife. #traumas

- Quidditch position or spectator? Spectator, me and sports are a no go.

- Your quidditch team? I'm shocked there isn't a Swiss team, so than I'll choose the Bigonville Bombers, the team of Luxembourg as one of my best friends is from Luxembourg.

- Would you be a prefect? I certainly might make a change on becoming one, I was always the leader in group projects or duo tasks, cause I wanted to have control and if I didn’t I hated the others for being such lazy and dumb people... sorry to anyone I might have offended with this in the past, you know teenagers, high school. it’s just hell.

- Dream Yule Ball date? a Scottish guy with red hair that is not closely related to the Weasleys.

- Gobstones or Wizard Chess? Chess, but first I have to learn it.

- Crookshanks or Pigwidgeon? Pig! as Crookshanks just always has this look that is a combination of Grumpy Cat and I wanna kill you.

- If you could own one of the three Hallows, which would it be? Invisibility cloak, I mean hello.

- What is your favourite magical creature? a Phoenix. its mythology is amazing, but my mother also used to work for a company for over 40 years that had it as their logo. and I just love Fawkes in the movie.

- Would you join the Triwizard Tournament? no, even if in the normal version you won’t die, I don’t need this type of danger during education, a magic school has enough hazards.

- Do you prefer Christmas or Halloween at Hogwarts? I guess Christmas cause you are allowed to go back to visit your family during the break, though if you’re like Harry that sucks. Halloween is actually my favourite, but it is right after school starts and I guess it might also be the april fools day of hogwarts cause you could scare people.

- Would you own a house elf? No, not even if my parents or grandparents would have one and the would die and I need to take it or something. S.P.E.W. anyone?

- Favourite book? Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, memories and the dreams of getting an acceptance letter.

- Favourite movie? Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix. because Sirius, 12 grimmauld place, dumbledore's army, room of requirement. Dolores Umbridge is a bitch though, but it makes great scenes.

- Favourite quote? "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

- Favourite of the Golden Trio? Hermione for sure.

- Fauvorite Marauder? I have to go with Sirius, even after everything that happened to him he is such a warm person, I really wished he would have been able to raise Harry.

- Fantastic Beasts or The Cursed Child? Fantastic Beasts, cause it is super awesome and the cursed child has to many things that do not make sense.

- Character you most identify with? Hermione, even though I like Luna the most, I really am the same as hermione and my friends used to joke a lot about it...

- Which character do you think you’d instantly become friends with? Luna. I am also a weird person, so I wouldn’t think she is crazy like most other students did.

- Which family do you want to spend the holidays with? uhm, what about not. holidays are for peace you know, just me and my love going on an adventure.

- If it was real what do you think you’ll be doing right now, in this moment? so lets see, I’m 25 years old and it is monday afternoon. the sun is just about to set, so maybe I’ll be out exploring something, watching the sun go down just before I set up the tent I brought or go back home. In a less romantic version, I would use magic to make dinner faster so I could eat healthier things without spending like hours in the kitchen. (due to my allergies I have to basically make anything from scratch, everything, even bread.)

- OTP? Rona (Luna + Rolf Scamander) even though we don't really know that much about Rolf I have the feeling they are an awesome couple. Better than Luna and Neville.

- NOTP? Dramione (Draco + Hermione) still can't see this one happening, sorry.

- Top five ships? Newton + Porpentina, Ginmione (Hermione + Ginny), Grindeldore (Dumbledore + Grindelwald), Fleur + Bill, Hansy (Harry + Pansy)

- How did you start your journey with HP? I was actually to young to read it when the first books came out, also I can’t remember it being popular to read them maybe they hadn’t been translated yet or something. My first contact with Harry Potter was seeing the first film in the cinema during a birthday party of my cousin. Because I was the youngest I had to go with the old people and watch it dubbed into Dutch, I hated it, I hate movies that are revoiced, but than again I also hate subtitles now cause I do not need them at all and they just obstruct my view... welcome in Switzerland where you can enjoy having multiple lines of subtitles on your movie on top of each other.

#blog #text #harry potter #questions #bored

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autolycusimp · 7 years ago

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It’s Nachi’s birthday today and you know I’m about to do something right now. I’ve loved this guy for 7 years now, and I still secretly hope he gets his time to shine in Saint Seiya.

Until then, I have 20 head canons for my Wolf Saint. One for every day of the month I should’ve been doing. But I didn’t because I am zapped of all creative energy.

Quick reminder that these are my head-canons. Some may differ from others. ISome are about his prefrences, how he gets along with people, his background and even his training days in Bomi Hills.

Headcanon #1

Nachi is fully fluent in English and Japanese. He was born in Japan but raised in Oxford, England by his mother and grandparents. The accent stuck around even after he left. I always pictured Nachi to sound similar to Gavin Free of Rooster Teeth when he speaks English.

I think the main reason why I headcanon Nachi as British is mostly because of this video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2F3ZWEEbF4&t=238s

Michael Jones vaguely reminded me of Jabu, because of the short temper. And Nachi messing around would make Jabu fly into a rage. There’s more videos of Gavin and Michael, but this Minecraft one takes the cake:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_drIby275I

Headcanon #2

His favorite desserts are: raspberry ripple ice cream, eton mess and trifles. He’ll try other desserts, but his preference is primarily British.

Headcanon #3

If Hyoga is the best dancer of the Main Bronze Saints, then Nachi is the best dancer for the Secondary Bronze Saints. Hyoga is focused more on ballet, and Nachi is content with dance aerobics. The two end up being friends because of shared interests. They also discover that their mothers both studied and danced for the same ballet company in Paris (more on that later).

Of course, he keeps this a secret from the rest of the group. But people notice how graceful and fluid his movements are anyway.

Headcanon #4

The Gen Ma Ken attack ended up affecting Nachi’s sleeping pattern and he ended up with insomnia for several months. Granted, as a Saint, his body has more endurance than any other mortal, but he had to get medication so he could sleep. Afterwards, he was able to go back to bed with no problem.

Headcanon #5

Nachi talks in his sleep. It totally caught everyone off guard, but eventually they decide to roll with it. The rest of the losers place bets to see who can hold a conversation the longest with Nachi. So far, Ban is in the lead.

Headcanon #6

Nachi’s the type of guy to overheat in his sleep, so he wears boxers to bed. He’ll put on PJ pants if there are overnight guests. (Unlike Ichi, who would sleep in the nude regardless of who’s over.)

Headcanon #7

Nachi has the ability to talk himself out of any fight (when it’s not Saint-related). However, he STILL can kick your ass if you push his buttons enough. This goes mostly for non-Saint related fights. He’s a low-tier Bronze Saint, but his strength can severely hurt anyone.

Headcanon #8

Out of all the bronze saints, Jabu is Nachi’s closest friend. The two have each other’s back when unpacking some painful stuff or when they’re just going out for drinks and hitting on girls along the way. When Jabu needs some time off, Nachi will often times step in as leader.

Headcanon #9

Nachi has no idea who his biological father is, but he knows he’s still alive in France.

His mother told him that she met his father in Paris while she was working in a ballet company. He was a student activist and lived a life of danger for the greater good. She was absolutely smitten with him and he soon took a liking to her. She fought by his side, and this clashed with her schoolwork. She gave up her dreams of being a performer so she could stay with him.

But the relationship was very turbulent, and they got together just as quickly as they broke up. Eventually, his mother found out she was pregnant. She went to tell her lover the news, unsure of what he would say. He looked at her, smiled and laughed. She was confused and asked him what he found so funny. He simply smiled at her and said:

“Oh, ma chérie, you should know by now that my significant other is revolution! I can’t have a child slow me down...”

And she never saw him again. It’s safe to say, Nachi absolutely despises the shit out of his biological father.

Headcanon #10

Nachi’s mother took him to go see some friends in Japan. While driving to Tokyo in the middle of a storm, they got into a car crash. Nachi’s mother was in the hospital, her life hanging by a thread. But it was very clear there was a slim chance of her surviving. Nachi told the doctors he had family in England, and they were busy trying to contact his grandparents.

At the time, Mitsumasa Kido was busy searching for orphaned boys to become Saints. He was visiting one of his hospitals where he found Nachi crying. He learned that the boy had lost his mother and was “technically” an orphan. Mitsumasa Kido “adopted” Nachi and had people sign and complete the paperwork.

By the time Nachi’s grandparents went to go and find Nachi, he was gone. Mitsumasa Kido had told the doctors to tell them he and his mother perished in the car accident, but his grandfather wasn’t convinced. Mitsumasa Kido had to pull several strings so they would stray off his trail. So Nachi ends up going to Bomi Hills, training and receiving the Wolf Cloth.

Headcanon #11

During his years of training in Bomi Hills, he met someone there. She lived in a neighboring village with her grandmother; a woman who inherited a diamond mine and held a lot of power. That woman was named Madame Barbara; a Johannesburg resident with Dutch background.

Humans need human contact to survive, and Saint training was brutal. Nachi found support in this little sheltered red-haired girl. Her grandmother hated him but he didn’t understand why. He found out later by the redhead; her grandmother saw Nachi as a troublemaker and wanted him far away from her granddaughter. Finding her demands silly, Nachi and the redhead found a way to see each other in secret and away from the public eye. He gave her the name Mizuki, so she would know he was nearby.

As the years passed and Nachi went through the stages of discovering and strengthening his Cosmo, he too started to feel something for the girl. The feeling was mutual, but sometimes fate isn’t on your side. Mizuki’s grandmother started to grow more and more vicious towards Nachi and she would now throw her frustrations towards Mizuki with verbal abuse. After Nachi won the Wolf Cloth, he asked Mizuki to come to Japan with him. She agreed and gave him her necklace so she can come back for it later.

The Graude Foundation sent a ship to pick up Nachi, but Mizuki was nowhere to be found. He waited for a few hours, but still nothing. Nachi was sure something was wrong, so he head towards Mizuki’s home. He confronts Madame Barbara and wants to know where Mizuki is. Madame Barbara avoids the question, but gives him an ultimatum.

She wants the Gold Cloth. And in return, she’ll give him Mizuki and leave the both alone. Nachi agrees to the deal but still demands to see Mizuki. Mizuki hugs him and tells Nachi she had no other choice but to do as her grandmother said. Nachi promises to win the Gold Cloth, and he’ll come back to get her. He keeps the necklace and head back to Japan on a mission.

But you know Nachi gets fucked up in the end.

Headcanon #12

What happened in Liberia leaves Nachi with some trust issues. He doesn’t like to show his emotions in public, because he’s paranoid that someone would use this against him. That doesn’t mean he won’t give love a chance, it’s just that it takes time for him to fully open himself.

Headcanon #13

Nachi is a fucking softie. He’s romantic, but doesn’t do public displays of affection. He prefers to keep things personal and between his significant other. When he gives his partner a gift, you bet it’ll be unique to them. He’s a sucker for cuddling and holding hands. Playing with his hair is also a plus.

Headcanon #14

I headcanon him as bisexual.

Headcanon #15

Nachi’s favorite food is pizza.

Headcanon #16

During the summer is when Nachi’s freckles really pop. He has a splatter of freckles on the bridge of his nose and cheeks. They mostly accumulate on his shoulders, his back and on his chest.

Headcanon #17

Since his birthday is in the summer, he likes to throw a party for him and his close friends. He doesn’t have a problem letting loose with them.

Headcanon #18

Nachi’s favorite bands are, in no particular order: Wham!, Def Leppard, Van Halen, Whitesnake, The Scorpions and Duran Duran. (Hungry Like The Wolf, anyone?)

Headcanon #19

Nachi’s alcoholic drink of choice is champagne. But he isn’t picky and will drink whatever is presented.

Headcanon #20

Slightly NSWF-ish. The most sensitive parts of Nachi’s body are his chest and stomach. He reacts almost immediately if someone touches him there. Ichi would try to tickle him and ended up getting a black eye that lasted for a week.

--]

I’m debating of whether or not continuing the final 11 days with plot-specific stuff that concerns Nachi, but I’m still not sure.

#long post #saint seiya #wolf nachi #headcanons #head canons galore #my shit is trash

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okfine0104graphicnotes · 5 years ago

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D&AD: initial idea, research

After many brief and dissccusion for D&AD, after thinking and researching, I chose monotype for my final decision, due to the reason that I don’t think I am good at promoting brand’s value or those kind of stuff. And monotype’s brief is more like discovering the story behind communities.

Notes from briefing

The important part is to find a community that has its value and context that has a point to be presented and celebrated with type. In the begining I wasn’t sure which kind of community they want. But I found a few stuff that I was interest in.

In the first tutorial, I have 2 very initial ideas, the first one is ＃This is 18, which is a project that runs by the New York Times. They asked girls to share what their communities look like all over the world. They asked young female photographers to take photos of the girls in each place and asked them about what they like and what they up to recently or giving advice to other young women.

I like the concept of linking every young female together and it is interesting to see what other young girls life is in completely different places as myself and found out even though they are in another country that is far away, they still have the same kind of issue when I was 18. And I also found their visual design of the website really interesting. It looks like online zine, using collage style to make gifs and there is even a spotify playlist that they collected the young girls the songs are listening to, and put them together.

website link:

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2018/10/11/style/this-is-18.html

“Marking the transition from childhood to adulthood, 18 means you can finally vote, sign a lease on an apartment, obtain a credit card and buy cigarettes in the United States. In the UK, China and parts of Canada, 18 grants you entrance to a pub, while for most Israelis, it means a mandatory draft into the military. By 18, one in five women across the globe will be married. Millions will enter college or university.

The young photographers were asked to document girls in their communities – taking the photos and conducting interviews themselves, with each photographer paired with a professional mentor to guide them through the process.

Featuring 21 girls from across 12 time zones, and 15 languages, the end result is a celebration of ‘girlhood’ across oceans and cultures, through girls’ eyes – from Mexico to Mississippi, Ramallah to Russia, Bangladesh to the Bronx.” （https://www.creativeboom.com/inspiration/this-is-18-the-new-york-times-celebrates-girlhood-with-though-provoking-project-/）

The second idea is a facebook group that created for Asian people who living abroad posting memes and stuff that happened to them or funny things happened to their immigrant family. It entertains my life a lot since I join this group and it feels like you are not alone because there are so many people out there had similar experience and sometimes sees this negative stuff from a funny perspective. It change my way of thinking when I met something that is ignorant of culture or race.

Subtle Asian Traits is a Facebook group dedicated to Internet memes, jokes, and discussion surrounding the Asian experience in the West. Though the posts on the page cover a large range of topics, they mainly focus on Asian culture as experienced by the children of migrants. The group has over 1 million members and has been featured in a variety of mainstream news sources for its insights into the Asian diaspora. (wiki)

memes from Subtle asian traits

But after discussing with David and people in our group, the first idea is off brief, it doesn’t fit with the ideal of the communities monotype are seeking for. And the asian trait is at the edge of the off brief, but if I find a smart aspect of it, it could be potential but I feel like it is too board and I decided to research more for other ideas. I went back to read the brief again, and I did a bit brainstorm. I decided to focus on the communities in Taiwan, which people don’t really know about.

Until now, in most of the Asian countries, same-sex marriage is still illegal. Even though society is more open to different sexual orientations than before, there are still many narrow-minded people. In 2017 the Taiwanese top court decided that not protecting same-sex marriage is against the law, which will make Taiwan the first country that legalized same-sex marriage in Asia.

A panel of judges at Taiwan's top court are hearing a case that could make the island the first place in Asia to introduce gay marriage.

The case has been brought by a gay activist as well as municipal authorities from the capital, Taipei.

Taiwan's parliament has also been debating whether to pass laws that would allow same-sex marriage.

The movement has split society and prompted a conservative backlash, with vocal protests in recent months.

A panel of 14 justices are hearing arguments and will debate whether a line in Taiwan's civil code, which states that marriage is between a man and a woman, is unconstitutional.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-39376423

But it also brings a huge conflict between a group of people who are homophobic and call themselves Family Guardian Coalition. They are trying to stop Legislative Yuan, which is one of the five branches of government stipulated by the Constitution of Taiwan, from changing the original law to all gender. Instead, they are hoping to make another special law for same-sex marriage which is not truly equal, because that would be creating a separation once again. Their ideals cause even more people who already don’ t understand LGBTQ have wrong impressions of them and may even go against them. They used fake news and spread it out in group chats and also sign petition to referendum against. It is an act that against human right. And the group that support Marriage equality also sign a pettition to against the Family Guardian Coalition to make another referendum to hope to remain the truly equal law. But unfortunately, they win result of referendum. It broke many LGBTQ people’s and my heart, they tore the society apart, and even cause many LGBTQ people suicide.

The power of ignorant and fake news is terrifying and more extreme than people’s imagine. And because the Family guardian group has a certain style of making fake news, the marriage equality group people starting to make similar style of how they make fake news, instead they try to make right information on those photos so people could sent to their parents who do not quite understand LGBTQ communities and marriage quality.

Marriage quality group information adverts(left)/ Family guardiangroup infromation adverts(right)

Marriage quality group information memes mimic family guardian group memes.

So I present this idea to David and he suggested me to find a specific or iconic traditional Taiwanese or Chinese symbol to use it as a starting point to communicate the idea.

I had another research which is about indigenous people’ languages in Taiwan. There are 16 main groups of indigenous people, and the problem is they do not have written characters that they couldn’t record their history on papers. They tell their story though founding member in each tribe and the main speaking languages in school is mandarin so more and more indigenous young people couldn’t speak their own language anymore, they also moved out from their villages to big cities to seek better jobs opportunities. And history and culture are dying quickly more than people’s imagine, and the government isn’t doing anything to protect their culture, because the main people in politics are Han- Chinese people. Doing anything for indigenous people does not benefit them. They keep taking more and more of their lands and limited more of the tradtional territories.

Background:

The original population of the island of Taiwan and its associated islands, i.e. not including Kinmen and the Matsu Islands, consisted of Taiwanese aborigines, speaking Austronesian languages and sharing mitochondrial DNA contribution with island peoples of Southeast Asia and the Pacific. Immigration of Han Chinese to the Penghu islands started as early as the 13th century, while settlement of the main island occurred from the 16th century, stimulated by the import of workers from Fujian by the Dutch in the 17th century. According to governmental statistics, over 95% of the Republic of China's population is of Han Chinese ethnicity, while 2.3% are Taiwanese aborigines of Malayo-Polynesian ethnicity. Half the population are followers of one or a mixture of 25 recognized religions. Around 93% of the religious population are followers of a mixture of Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism, while a minority 4.5% are followers of Christianity (include Catholics and Protestants).

The official national language is Standard Chinese, although around 70% also speak Taiwanese Hokkien and 10% speak Hakka. Japanese speakers are becoming rare as the elderly generation who lived under Japanese rule are dying out but many young Taiwanese use English or Japanese as second language. Aboriginal languages are gradually becoming extinct as the aborigines have become acculturated despite a program by the ROC government to preserve the languages. (wiki)

Where the indigenous groups mainly live. (mostly in mountain area)

I am aware of this issue because of many young indigenous people are trying to help to protect their lands and culture, and are shown on social media. But I never research that deep into this topic. After researching I felt like I need to do this project to bring more awareness to this topic. Even though I am just a nobody, but someone has to do something to start changing situation.

I found out that president Tsai had only officially apologized to indigenous people for the first time in history and admit that before not protecting indigenous culture and lands is a mistake. She made an indigenous history justice committee to hope that they could improve the laws which to protect their rights.

youtube

President Tsai Apologized video

https://indigenous-justice.president.gov.tw/EN

But I don’t want to be too political on doing this project because it says on the brief that they don’t want anything too political. The more I research I got more confuse and lost.

So I try to focus on the point that they don’t have their written characters, but now they are using English letters (Latin letters) to spell and write their languages. It could trace back to the past, when Dutch people came to colonized in Taiwan, they started to use Latin letters to spell their languages, and use to o preach Christian and wrote the first bible in one of indigeous language:

The Sinckan language, spoken by the Siraya people who lived in what is now Tainan, was employed by Dutch missionaries to facilitate both missionary and government affairs during the reign of Dutch East India Company in Taiwan. They also created a romanized script, compiled a dictionary of the language, and taught the natives how to write their own language with these romanized characters.

And they indigenes people just keep this way of recording until now. Although, when they once try to use Japanese characters and Chinese letters to spell out their languages through the colonized history. But it won’t match with how they actually pronounce it so they went back to use Latin letters instead. That also causes a huge problem, because the main language Taiwanese use is traditional Chinese letters. People aren’t familiar with Latin or English letters. The government used to refuse them to spell their original name in their languages. The government forced them to have a Chinese name and only until recently they could use Latin letters to register their name in the official document.

There are so much could be done to protect their culture and languages, they are the owner of this island and sadly, no one is respecting them. Their culture is so beautiful which are sustainable and loving the motherland, which is the stuff we need now due to climate change and capitalism. who are we to force them to fit in the “modern society” which took away their identity.

Sinckan manscirpt ( right)of a land selling contract with chinese letters(left).

Bunun symbol for their calender which recorded when to hunt or when to harvest.

Paiwan snakes pattern.

16 tribes logo pattern design

Kavalan’s textile pattern.

Atayal knit their characters in textile which represent number.

Atayal illustration.

Taiwanese indigenous groups are famous for their unique patterns, every tribe has its own special patterns of textile or symbol to present their spirit.

So I try to research more about indigenous people’s pattern to try to find insight and common to build an idea into my design. But I found out that it is so difficult, there is no website that recorded officially or clearly. There are also various meaning and story behind each group and their patterns. The lack of information made it more difficult and I spent too much time to research, now I don’t really have time to work on it. All of their languages are almost completely different. My first idea is to present 26 Latin characters with their 16pattern but the number isn’t right. It doesn’t make sense and I don’t want to be inappropriate to use their pattern or symbols.

I message one of the facebook pages which runs by the indigenous people that how can I design and find a common point to make my project happen. They just told me to talk to the tribe which is kind of impossible because I can’t go back to Taiwan now.

And I think of an idea is, their common is they have their own patterns and symbol in each group, so what I could think of is making an example of how they could create stamps in their patterns and those patterns could make it into both Latin letters and Chinese letters.

Caculating using 16 tribes as main point and create 26 latin character. (idea 1)

Linocut idea sketch.(idea2)

#D&AD #monotype #content

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yestheparadoxical · 7 years ago

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Porn made for women, by women

Independent female directors are making pornographic films aimed at women. Catalina May finds out what makes them so different.

by Catalina May.

Anna Arrowsmith (aka Anna Span) has been a porn director for 12 years. This made her recent campaign as the Liberal Democrat candidate for Gravesham rather controversial. "Not my cup of tea", said Nick Cleggabout her occupation. But what she has been doing is not mainstream pornography, but independent porn made for women."I have fought long and hard for women's right to sexual expression and consumption, as well as for freedom of speech," she wrote in the Observer. But Gail Dines, author of Pornland: How Porn Has Hijacked Our Sexuality, challenged her in the Guardian: "What are you doing that is different from what every other pornographer is doing?"The best way to answer that question is probably by watching Arrowsmith's films. And not just hers. Because a number of women, tired of mainstream porn and tired of criticising it without offering an alternative, are making the porn films they want to watch.These films don't include horny schoolgirls, naughty nurses, nymphomaniac nannies or desperate housewives. Nor do they include Mafiosi, multimillionaires drinking cognac, pimps, drug dealers or super-sized sex machines. Because these women, as filmmakers and consumers, place themselves far away from mainstream porn."It is a prejudice to say that women don't like porn," says Erika Lust, another fem porn director. "Sex images make you hot, but pornography has been made by and for men. In mainstream porn everything is about male pleasure and women are objects. Oral sex for men can last forever, but when women's turn comes it lasts 10 seconds. Female orgasms are not an issue in most of the films. And women are shown mostly as prostitutes, which is sad."Lust has directed three porn films and written three sex books. Her website explains: "We produce adult movies. We publish erotic books and magazines. Our works speak about sex, lust and passion. We enjoy exciting you and exciting your mind. We make love, not porn. And we do all this with a feminine, aesthetic and innovative approach."After working for 10 years as a TV producer and director, Petra Joy has moved on to directing "art-core" films. She says: "Women have a lot of catching up to do. We had the sex toy revolution first - no more giant cucumbers but a gold-plated mini vibrator perfect for clit stimulation - and now the second wave is the porn revolution: porn that is made by and for women, that focuses on female pleasure and features male sex objects."These directors are just three among many. Their films have different styles: Lust's are urban and modern, Joy's are visual and sensory and Arrowsmith's are a bit more hardcore. But there are similarities that show how this new branch of the porn industry works. First of all, they are educated. Lust read political sciences at Lund University, Joy has a master's degree in film history at the University of Köln and Arrowsmith studied fine art at Central Saint Martins. They do this because they chose it, and not because they don't have other options. They are all independent producers and distribute their films mostly over the internet. They pay particular attention to aesthetics, music, locations, actors and stories. And most importantly, they think about what women need to enjoy porn.Joy says: "Women enjoy seeing a curve of arousal and like to understand why these people are having sex and how they got turned on. Women want to see credible female performers, women of all sizes and looks who genuinely enjoy themselves rather than porn clones with fake nails, hairs and boobs faking it for the camera."Lust adds: "To get excited women want to see something that looks like us. We want to see independent women exploring their sexuality, who are not afraid, but are not sex heroines either. We want to see attractive men who share our lifestyles, our ideas."These directors make sure they only work with people who want to perform in erotic films, and that what you see is real pleasure. Lust says: "I want people with an open sexuality who want to work here. I don't want anybody doing this because they don't have another choice. During the shooting I want them to have good sex and it's my job to find the images. For me it is a tense moment, because things happen only once and it's a moment of hard work. Is not a party behind the camera."In 2006, Alison Lee created the Feminist Porn Awards, which this year takes place on 13-15 April in Toronto. She says: "We wanted to celebrate people who were making porn in a feminist way and help to expose them to a greater audience. For our sixth anniversary we are expecting lots of stars and a super-fun event. We are also hoping to have a stronger focus on websites and online porn than we have in the past."Lust, Joy and Span have previously won awards in different categories. This year Lust is nominated for her last film, Life, Love, Lust, and Span for Sex Experiments: Bisexual Scenes and Sex Interviews.These director's films are also featured on Dusk!, the Dutch porn channel that since 2007 has broadcast fem porn 24/7 and is available to 1.2m viewers. Martijn Broersma says he started the channel with the aim of providing a service that nobody else was offering."Nowadays women talk more about their own [sexual] likes and dislikes," he said. "With this revolution in mind, it was logical that women needed their own erotic TV channel."And while independent fem porn keeps growing, mainstream porn is in crisis. Patrick Kwasniewski specialised in gender and queer studies at the University of Klagenfurt and is currently researching his thesis on feminist porn. He says: "The development of this branch of the industry is profiting from the internet: the more direct ways to reach consumers, easier ways of self-distribution, having a more focused target and producing highly profiled films. Whilst the mainstream industry faces loss of profits through not changing their traditional ways of production or distribution and producing very repetitive films that have more and more troubles on the market, especially when there's so much for free on the internet."Joy adds: "The industry is slowly waking up to the fact that it is not just VOD [Video on Demand] that caused the drop in porn DVD sales, but that even males are bored of films that always show the same performers in the same studios going through the same sexual positions in the same running order and looking bored whilst faking it. People are hungry for more authenticity, variety and joy."Being part of this industry that refuses to change hasn't always been easy for female porn directors. Male members of the porn industry don't necessarily like their presence. Lust says: "Pornographers are usually middle-aged straight guys, with a similar cultural background. They don't like it when I say that I make porn for women. They say their porn is for everybody and I am the 'tight' one. But I just can't have an intellectual discussion with them, because they don't measure up. What I'm doing is criticising the kind of porn they have been making for years and offering an alternative."There are no reliable figures on female porn audiences, but there are some academic studies that provide some information. Verena Chiara Kuckenberger is responsible for gender at the University of Graz, and she did a study on women's porn that included audience research.She says: "Research suggests that women are not as interested in pornography as men are. But this assumption has to be seen in a broader context – there are certain scripts for male and female sexuality and one of these says that women don't find pleasure in looking as man do. But who looks and who gets looked at is a question of power as well. Historically the gaze is male, while women are objects that are being looked at."For women to admit to experiencing pleasure in watching pornography means overcoming stereotypes about female sexuality. There are women who do not want to consume pornography, but at the same time there is a potential female audience for porn and I would say it is bigger than it has been assumed so far and it is increasing as our society overcomes gendered stereotypes in general."Keeping all this in mind, I asked Arrowsmith how she feels about the controversy about her work. She said: "I have received very good responses from the press, the readers and the general public. Now, I want to join together my political work and the work I do in the porn industry. I'm going to start campaigning for sex workers' rights and encouraging women to fight for what they deserve."

#erika lust #anna arrowsmith

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reekierevelator · 8 years ago

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Going Home

A Short Story by Brian Bourner

Arnie’s Audio Diary

19 January 2015

I’m assailed again by memories of long ago.

It was winter, early dark. We were just ragamuffin kids standing on the pavement outside the shop’s open door, our nostrils flaring in response to the overpowering smell of malt vinegar and burning fat.

From inside, behind the counter, came the familiar soft slurp of wet fish being slapped in batter, immediately followed by the spit and roar, spark and sizzle of the fish being deposited in the deep fryer.

Petey salivated, preparing to crunch his teeth through the crisp, heavily salted batter and into the chewy white cod.

Joe lifted his arms from the counter and swung his big shock of bronze hair towards us, away from the jars of pickled eggs and onions. He grinned, a big twelve year old’s confident grin, one leg bending at a jaunty angle behind the other as he caught my eye.

Behind the imitation white marble counter with its grey veins, Paolo’s sunken eyes drooped sadly. The elderly shop-keeper was still recovering from years of detention on the Isle of Man as an enemy alien. Something I didn’t know about or understand at the time. A heavy-set man in an off-white apron, he posed a question and Joe turned back to answer just as Paolo’s steel spatula plucked the fish from the boiling fat and laid it on a white sheet of paper he’d already spread with his other hand.

A portion of crisp golden chips was instantly shovelled on top, salt and vinegar generously applied, and the whole wrapped neatly in newspaper, all done in one single fluid movement in the same time it took Joe to pull the pound note from his trouser pocket. Somehow Joe always had money when he came to see us.

The till pinged, coins rattled, and Joe pocketed the change that Paolo thrust towards him. Then he stepped out into the cold air, posing proudly with the steaming food, and we quickly closed in around him.

Joe always asked for the bag to be left open, knowing the extent of our hunger and that we couldn’t bear to wait even the other half a minute it would take to open a closed parcel up again.

As we skipped and shuffled down the street, hopping round lampposts and gutters, our eyes bright and our breath condensing in the cold air, we dipped our fingers into the splendid cornucopia at will, plucking out long chips running with vinegar, chunks of white fish, and lumps of crunchy batter, stuffing it all in our mouths without formality. I knew manna from heaven could surely not taste better than such a fish supper. Only Joe was less than euphoric, his ideas still stuck in the old country, and managing a carping comment about the stupidity of people who substitute imitation vinegar for mayonnaise.

20 January 2015

It’s strange the things that fix in the memory. That chip shop tableau always stays clear and fresh and I hold it dear. My elder brother Joe, Johan, my twin Petey, Pieter, and me, Arnie, Armin, enjoying a moveable feast in the cold, grey, winter streets of an immediate post-war Edinburgh. A night of unalloyed pleasure when we had hot food to eat, a place to sleep, and respite from the bombs and bullets, the perennial fighting and screaming, that had plagued our lives in Holland.

We were immigrants, three children whose parents, as I later discovered, had been deported to the camps for organising our escape. Father had been a small tenant farmer, mainly sheep. Mother looked after a few chickens. We were born and lived in the wetlands south of Rotterdam. As the war continued we were left with nothing to eat.

We three children left occupied Holland in a small boat, sailed across the North Sea in 1941 by a friend of our father’s, a fisherman who had already planned his escape. His boat was too small to take our whole family. Johan was eleven. Me and Petey had just turned seven. We arrived frozen and hungry just up the coast from Hull. Joe had been taught enough English at school to be able to explain our position when we were stopped and taken to a police station.

Our father’s friend talked of someone, a fisherman, a man he had run into before the war. He knew he lived somewhere in Scotland called Prestonpans and he was sure that he would help him out.

After a few days we were given travel warrants and bundled onto the train for Edinburgh. But on arriving at Waverley our father’s friend made it clear that though he’d got us across the water, and out of police custody, he couldn’t supply accommodation. The Scottish fisherman with whom he was vaguely acquainted had only had a very tiny cottage, with no room for more than one visitor. When he bade us farewell we were lost.

We spent the next two days hiding in the city, a feral existence of sleeping in graveyards and scavenging for food. The police found us one night at a Grassmarket soup kitchen and we were packed off to a big cold building, standing in its own grounds, and run with strict discipline. It was called the Dean Orphanage. Joe explained several times why our parents had sent away. We knew it was for our own good but we missed our parents very badly.

All the same, the orphanage did provide proper beds, and there were adults around organising things. There was food too, though seldom enough of it. The basic meals provided barely kept hunger at bay. All the same, our basic needs were served. So Petey and me, being so young and having just survived an extremely tough few weeks at sea and then living rough, resolved to stay. Joe was happy to let us. But being that bit older he didn’t want to be confined to care himself. He ran off again, determined to look after himself and be his own master even in this strange new town.

But afterwards he would often sneak in to visit us. One day he said he was now called Joe rather than Johan because it made life easier for him. And a year or so later the orphanage authorities sometimes allowed him to take us outside. We’d go down to Stockbridge and he’d treat us to a fish supper. He’d found a house in Newhaven where a fisherman let him sleep on his floor so long as he helped with gutting, boxing, and transporting his catch. But he resented that a place to sleep was the only payment he ever received for his hard work. He didn’t think he’d stay there long.

As well as fish and chips, Joe sometimes provided us with other small luxuries, toys and boxes of sweets. But as we settled into the orphanage and our stay extended into its second and third years his visits gradually tailed off.

It was after we’d been in the orphanage several years and the authorities were starting to think of our lives after we left that they decided our names sounded too German and they officially registered as Peter and Arnold Miller instead. That was when we became Pete and Arnie. It wasn’t till we actually left the orphanage that we discovered the name on all our documents was Miller instead of Mulder.

I remember the day in 1945 when Joe visited the orphanage for the last time. That was when he told us he was having to go away. He said we might not see him for a long time but not to worry.

When we asked why, what had happened, he said something about soon turning sixteen and having problems finding work. It meant people like him sometime had to move far away.

We never saw him again.

21 January 2015

The memory of that night outside the chip shop burns brighter than the memory of Pete’s funeral. He was fifty-one, a confirmed bachelor. He’d been lucky enough to find a job in the wireworks when the orphanage decided it was time he started looking after himself. That was where he worked the rest of his life. He was simply smoking a cigarette in the canteen when he fell off his chair with a massive heart attack. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Unfortunately, the similarity of the rituals around death, and their relative brevity, mean his funeral is now mixed and muddled in my mind with many others before and after. Which songs were sung and who was attended has merged and blurred with numerous other almost identical dark suit and black tie occasions held at one crematorium or another.

Pete’s death left me, the surviving brother, as the last custodian of our family’s story. That’s partly why I’ve been recording a diary on this little digital thing that clips on to the collar of my shirt or jacket.

The problem, of course, is that I am now eighty-one, my wife Jessie is long dead from lung cancer, and my body is increasingly paralysed with multiple sclerosis. I can move a finger of my right hand, which is handy for the recorder, and my head still works. Otherwise I’m virtually incapable of doing anything for myself. At least I have no children to burden with all these problems.

22 January 2015

Today Jake accompanied me in my wheelchair on a ‘walk’ all the way along Portobello Prom from King’s Road to Joppa. A lot of new housing has been built and there are pubs and cafes where the old Marine Ballroom, Fun Fair, and Open Air Swimming Pool used to be. For the first time in years I briefly wondered what Breskins, the little Dutch town I escaped from all those years ago, would look like nowadays.

Jake is my full-time carer. He’s only twenty-six. If he would shorten his shoulder length hair and shave a bit more regularly he could be a handsome young man and maybe even find a proper girlfriend at last. He often wears a black T-Shirts. One is emblazoned with the word ‘Ramones’. I asked if they were a music group and he sheepishly admitted that they were, but all five members are long dead. It’s the same check shirt over the T-Shirt and black jeans most days too, but at least he’s reliable. And he copes with the dirty work without flinching. Occasionally, when he’s sick or on holiday, they send another carer to substitute. But mostly it’s just me and Jake.

Jake fancies himself as a man prepared to handle any emergency and I generally indulge this conceit. He likes to have a penknife in his pocket and odd tools hanging from his belt. Sometimes there’s a set of spanners, a small screwdriver, or a torch hanging there. But when a tap washer fails Jake’s immediate response is to phone a plumber. And when the plug on the electric kettle was a problem I had to instruct him on the simple process of replacing the fuse.

My own working career is long behind me. With nowhere to go after the orphanage I joined the army. I’ve been a soldier, a clerk, a shop assistant, and a scrap dealer amongst other things. I made a little bit of money before my body started to seize up altogether, but now I feel pointless. Maybe my whole life has been pointless. These days it’s fairly joyless and sometimes painful. I can still listen to the radio, watch TV, or read for short stints, but my social life is non-existent. I feel I’m treading water and that my quality of my life has shrunk to very little. My condition means regular bouts of hospitalisation. I’m tired of being just another bed-blocker, just another old coffin dodger. In fact I think it’s time to call it a day.

That Swiss place, Dignitas, was in the news again today. I briefly tried to broach the question of voluntary euthanasia with Jake. Unfortunately, his reaction was one of such shock and anger that I was immediately silenced. We’d come almost the whole way back to King’s Road before Jake could bear to talk to me again in anything more than monosyllables. He mumbled something about the sanctity of human life and how he’d been brought up to believe only God had the right to take lives.

22 January 2015

I settled in Scotland when I was very young and I’ve lived all my life here. I saw no reason to do anything else. There was nothing to take me back across the sea.

But now, after all these decades, I have decided to go home. Back to Holland, where the radio tells me they understand about ‘unbearable suffering with no prospect of improvement’.

I’ve checked it all on the computer. I could equally choose Belgium, but I suppose the Netherlands has a little more meaning for me. I made contact by email. And now the papers have all been drawn up, legally signed and delivered. I’m determined.

I refused to let Jake try to talk me out of it today. So in the end he very reluctantly agreed to be my travelling companion, to care for me on my last journey.

23 January 2015

Jake is trying to avoid thinking about the purpose of the trip by filling his mind with detail. He’s organising almost everything, all the preparations for travel – the heavy clothes and travel blankets, the medical equipment, the passport, the train tickets, food, money, and the electric wheelchair. Only the payment for the treatment is left and fortunately I only need one finger to transfer the money from my online bank account. I’ll do that as soon as I’ve finished this entry.

I tried to talk to Jake about death, about beginnings and endings and how to give the whole thing meaning. But he’s only a man doing a practical, physical job. He’s not a therapist. The progressive eclipse of physical wellbeing isn’t something with which he’s yet had to concern himself. He thought I must be worrying about the afterlife, about whether I’d end up in heaven or hell. He’s never had those dreams where life becomes more and more of an ordeal, where the Grim Reaper is always lurking around the next dark corner, where your body is already so useless and paralysed that you can’t turn back and run. All you can do is scream.

Epistemologically, I was actually more concerned with what justifies living. But I accepted that existential conundrums aren’t really Jake’s cup of tea. I suppose I can justify myself in economic terms. I’ve earned a little capital. I can afford to shop, eat, get a haircut. But then what? Sleep, go to the toilet, switch on the radio or tv, just survive. I can’t help anyone. I need Jake to brush my teeth and shave me in the morning, to actually do the shopping and make the meals. Frankly, I’m no good for anything these days.

People generally do work that is ultimately aimed at helping other people survive, perhaps even live more comfortably than before, maybe even enjoy life. So is the meaning of life just that life is for living and for helping others to do so too? Well, almost any animal could say the same. How many animals would choose to live a few more years if they were cripplingly disabled by ill-health, a decrepit body just patched together and barely functioning? But only humans are allowed, sometimes at least, to make that choice.

And if that is the meaning of life, then how can death have any meaning?

20 May 2015

Final confirmation arrived today. The date and time are fixed. I’m committed. All I have to do now is turn up.

Over the next few days I’ll check over my Last Will and Testament. There’s a few quid in there for Jake.

Then I’ll say my goodbyes to those few neighbours who still recognise me.

23 June 2015

Since I’ll be dead in two days this will probably be my last diary entry.

The big black taxi arrived bang on time at six-thirty in the morning and I drove my heavy maroon wheelchair up the ramp into the rear compartment. Jake sat in the front talking to the cabbie while I embarked on my trip to oblivion.

At Waverley Station Jake guided me on board the London train. Then I watched out the window as the coast and countryside sped past while the train hurtled south. It was a clear, cool day and by mid-morning the carriage was fully lit in sunshine. I was distracted by back gardens stretching down to the tracks. They flashed by in bright reds, blues, and oranges, riots of summer colour.

Jake sat separately in the seats in front of the wheelchair space, reading newspapers and listening to music on his headphones. As far as pop music is concerned his tastes are eclectic. His headphones sometimes leak noises he calls hip-hop and sometimes I recognise old tunes from the nineteen sixties.

I stopped asking exactly what he is listening to after he rather guiltily mentioned ‘Knocking on heaven’s door’ and ‘It’s alright Ma (I’m only bleeding)’ – titles not guaranteed to cheer me up. I remembered the line from that latter song that ‘he not busy being born is busy dying’. That seemed to simply transform life into a depressing drawn-out death.

My mind wandered back to thinking about whether life was purely random and accidental or might actually have some purpose and meaning. And back to life not being just for human beings. Did all those dinosaurs, that lived on Earth far longer than human beings, have lives with meaning or purpose? Or fruit flies that live only minutes? Is mankind the only thing living massaging its ego with theories of purpose?

The train became busier and more crowded at each halt as it journeyed further south. A tall young lady in a light brown suede jacket and jeans, furiously flicking through messages on her mobile phone, charged on board at York, throwing a canvas backpack into the rack. She took off her jacket to reveal a pretty red and yellow striped crop top and bounced into the seat next to Jake, her short fair hair falling towards the little screen.

Jake abandoned the headphones and managed to strike up a conversation. I had to wait until the train had almost pulled into King’s Cross and they were already best friends before Jake finally deigned to introduce me.

“Arnie, this is Doutzen. Doutzen, meet Arnold Miller, he’s the guy I’m looking after just now.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Her English was impeccable. I would have liked to shake hands. But ‘Doutzen’?

“You’re Dutch?” I queried.

“Yes, I am. But I’m working in Yorkshire.”

“She’s heading back to some place called Middelburg to visit her parents.” put in Jake, “Prefers trains to boats and planes. She’s catching the Eurostar to Brussels, same as us.”

So then the three of us made our way, me in the electric wheelchair driving a path through the mobbed, sticky, luggage strewn tunnel, into St Pancras International and the other two keeping up behind. But in my mind’s eye I was contemplating flat green fields next to white waves cresting on an open sea. It was that old place, Breskens, on the Westerschelde in Zeeland, where I was born, the town I’d fled from as a child. And from Breskens I knew it was only a short distance across the Scheldt to Vlissingen and Middelburg.

I twisted my head round towards Doutzen.

“Does the ferry still run between Vlissingen and Breskens?”

“Oh yes, for sure”, she replied. “But only for walkers and cyclists now, since they opened the tunnel under the Scheldt nearly twenty years ago. You know the area?”

“I used to,” I said, and inwardly lamented that since arriving in Britain I’d neglected my Dutch so much that I could now only talk sensibly to this young Dutch woman in English. “I was there a long time ago. Some interesting medieval buildings.”

She frowned. “No, I don’t think so. Very boring twentieth century architecture I’m afraid. Nice modern harbour though. Good place to visit for the Visserijfeesten.”

I think it must have been what they now euphemistically refer to as a ‘senior moment’. For, of course, I’d heard about it fifty years ago. My memory was playing tricks. The Allied carpet bombing in 1944. My old home town utterly destroyed, another reason it had never seemed worth returning. The town was resurrected in brick and concrete in the fifties.

“Visserijf…?” Jake queried.

“The famous Fishing Festival,” she supplied. “It’ll be happening over the next few days.”

In St Pancras we boarded the Eurostar for Brussels. Near the wheelchair space there were several empty seats so Doutzen abandoned the one she’d booked and sat beside us, which pleased Jake immensely. I fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of sun shining on the green polder, and only opening my eyes as the train juddered, braking as it pulled into Brussels-Midi.

Before I was fully awake Jake was helping me to drive the electric chair out towards the low platform and he whispered confidentially “Doutzen has invited me over to her parents’ house for a visit if I can find the time.” A few moments later Doutzen’s eyes were glistening, smiling down at me. I thought sympathetically, but maybe it was in hope.

Once we’d arranged ourselves on the platform she said “I think we go our separate ways now Mr Miller. Maybe I’ll see you next time in York. Have a lovely time. Goodbye.”

She swung her canvas backpack over her shoulder, gave a little wave, and strode off towards the platform designated for the IC train to Middelburg.

Jake’s eyes followed her. As the crowds absorbed her his chin dropped to his chest. He turned to me glumly, a picture of thwarted hopes and despondency.

“What did you tell her I was doing here?” I asked.

“I said I was looking after you while you had a little holiday.”

“Holiday? A rather long holiday from life, I suppose. But it would have taken a very hard man not to have had some sympathy for Jake. I wasn’t that man.

“Look,” I said, “I don’t really care. If you feel she’s that important go after her.”

“But your appointment …”

“Oh well, the best laid plans…I’m sure I’ll be able to reorganise it for another day. It just goes to show that dying is always an uncertain business, even when it’s euthanasia. I still have some money. If you like we can go on and find a hotel in Middelburg for a day or two.”

Jake straightened up and his eyes beamed as if someone had just switched on his electricity. “Stay right here,” he said, “and look after the luggage. I won’t be long.” And he ran off down the platform with a long loping stride that I could only lay back and admire.

A few minutes later he was back, his arm entwined in Doutzen’s and both giggling merrily. Having established my agreement to the change of plans Doutzen led the way towards the train for Middelburg.

For the hour or two on the train Jake and Doutzen sat squashed together and talked intently.

Arriving in Middelburg Doutzen was able to recommend the lovely Van der Valk Hotel which catered perfectly for the wheelchair-bound and fortunately had rooms available. I booked two adjoining rooms for me and Jake and checked carefully on what assistance the hotel staff would be able to offer me, knowing I shouldn’t expect to rely so heavily on Jake for the next day or two.

Once settled in I phoned the Clinic, just in time before they closed, to re-arrange the date. They weren’t particularly reassuring. The administration implied I was backing out at the last minute and that was by no means their first experience of someone having come so near only to mentally remain so far away, phoning at the last minute to cancel. Their tone wasn’t at all helpful, focused on emphasising that payments already made could not be reimbursed. They said they’d look at possible alternative dates and rang off saying they’d get back to me.

24 June 2015

It looks like I’ll be keeping my diary for at least another day or two.

This morning I encouraged Jake – and he didn’t need much encouragement – to accept Doutzen’s invitation to spend the day with her. To give him credit he did say he’d stay if I didn’t think the hotel staff would be able to cope. Feeding someone and taking them to the toilet isn’t something many hotels can handle properly. But the hotel staff were keen to try it and in the end they looked after me well.

All the same it did become a little boring driving my electric wheelchair round the hotel’s small garden, stopping occasionally to admire flowers or watch the changing cloud formations. I did have plenty of time, of course, to update my diary.

No-one called from the Clinic.

25 June 2015

This morning Jake said that Dot – apparently he now had a pet name for Doutzen - was grateful to me for helping them to have time together yesterday, but she felt guilty about me being excluded.

Soon after breakfast Doutzen herself turned up at the hotel wearing a short denim skirt and a jolly pink top under her suede jacket. She had driven over in her father’s car. Jake greeted her as if they’d been parted for months.

“Let’s all go on a trip,” she suggested. “I can drive the three of us the short distance to Vlissingen, the neighbouring town. Then, rather than driving through the tunnel, we could take the little scenic ferry trip over to the Fish Festival in Breskens.”

I agreed enthusiastically before remembering. “But my electric chair – it would be too big and heavy for a car.”

She’d already thought of it. “My father’s car is a nice big estate car. With the back seats lowered, and with its low stowage floor, the electric chair still might not be possible but it can certainly accommodate an ordinary wheelchair, and the seat belts will work to hold it firmly in place.”

“Well…,” I hesitated.

“The hotel is happy to lend us one of their light manual wheelchairs.”

I succumbed. A little sea air and a visit to my old home town was a much better prospect than moping around the hotel driving the electric wheelchair, worrying about fixing an alternative date to die.

Everything worked out just as Doutzen had planned. We reached he harbour and Jake put a woolly hat on my head and wrapped blankets round me. A light wind was blowing white clouds across the sky and the salty sea air was bracing. I sniffed the ozone as Jake pushed me on to the little ferry.

The ferry was carrying maybe twenty or thirty passengers as it bounced across the waves. White gulls spun sqawking overhead in the blue-grey sky while Jake and Doutzen sat cosily together on a bench fixed to the deck in the unroofed open area. When sea spray reached them they cuddled closer together. My wheelchair was parked in the small enclosed passengers’ cabin.

Very soon the smell of fish hit us as we entered a comparatively large harbour that I’d never seen before.

“The new harbour was built for the fishing fleet. But then the fishing industry died,” Doutzen informed me. “But they kept on with the fish festival.”

Indeed, there were very few boats in the harbour, just one or two small ones creaking at their moorings as our bow wave hit them. But the quayside was full. All along the shore there were people crowding around little stalls with either orange, or striped red and white or blue and white awnings. Once ashore the air was full of a guttural hum, crowds of people conversing happily in Dutch. And there was the strong smell of fish and chips frying. Groups of family and friends were gathered together and stood chatting and laughing, their fingers dipping into paper cones of chips and mayonnaise. Childhood memories of my brother Joe resurfaced with a vengeance.

We mixed with the festival throng, wandering round the stalls and displays. Besides fish and chips, some stalls sold bottled beer and others pieces of domestic craft work - needlework, pottery, home-made greeting cards . We ate fish and chips with relish – Jake and Doutzen putting a paper cone on the blanket over my knees and feeding me with chips and pieces of fish using plastic forks. We looked at the various display boards planted between the stalls. The Dutch texts were beyond me but the photos of the town, mainly black and white, taken over the last hundred years or so, were fascinating. When I wanted more explanation Doutzen was always ready to translate the texts and sometimes add more detail to the information boards provided. There was an old post-war photo of people queuing for food handouts. One of the grainy figures in the queue reminded me a lot of Joe and the memories flooded back.

We were just thinking it might be time to be leaving when suddenly, there, straight in front of me, stood Joe himself. He was exactly as he’d looked the last time he’d visited us in the orphanage; the way he held himself, grinning under a shock of bronze hair, one leg casually twisted behind the other. He was maybe sixteen years old.

Jake noticed the shock that registered on my face. He asked with some concern “Are you feeling ok Arnie? Your face has just gone white as a sheet, like you’ve seen a ghost.”

It took me a few moments to remember that if Joe was alive today he would have to look even older than me. But the likeness was uncanny.

I explained the reason for my surprise. To set my mind at rest Jake drew Doutzen towards him and they approached the boy to apologise for the fact that I’d been staring at him. Doutzen explained it was just that he looked very like someone I’d known.

I was tense. “Ask him his name” I shouted, somewhat over-aggressively.

“My name is Joran Djikstra,” the boy called back, defensively but in perfect English.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be bad mannered and offensive; it’s just that… well, your grandfathers’ names then? It would settle a troubling question in my mind if you would tell me.”

The boy hesitated. Doutzen spoke to him quietly in Dutch, no doubt reassuring him that I was just an old man and it would do no harm to humour me.

The boy walked over to me, leaned down and spoke carefully. It was as if I was a small six year old again with Johan towering over me.

“Arjen Djikstra, that’s my grandfather on my father’s side. My mother’s father was Johan Mulder.”

I could hardly take it in. I was flabbergasted. But I had to face the unpalatable truth. I suppose the reason was obvious, though it had never occurred to me before. Joe, feeling himself an adult at sixteen, had surely found some way of returning to Holland in 1945. He’d left his two eleven year old brothers in the safe care of the orphanage. I suppose he didn’t know what he’d find back in Holland and didn’t want to put us in danger.

Jake had also picked up on the name the boy mentioned and leaned into my other ear. “ ‘Mulder’? Did you not tell me once that was your real name Arnie? Some kind of relation maybe?”

“I’m fairly sure this boy is my great nephew,” I agreed in a whisper, and Jake puffed out his cheeks and raised his eyebrows in a performance of mock astonishment.

“Oh, really?” he said disbelievingly.

Turning back to the boy I had to bite my tongue to avoid calling him by my elder brother’s name. “Joran, this may seem a little bizarre but I think we may be related. Could I possibly speak to your mother or father to check this is possible and I’m not just fantasising?”

And so, following Joran, we weaved through the crowds to a stall whose awning was a giant red, white and blue striped Dutch flag. This canvas sheltered a number of chairs grouped roughly round half a dozen small tables. While we watched and waited, Joran moved between the tables and stopped at one where a group of men were in conversation, glasses of beer and paper plates piled high with chips in front of them. He spoke to a middle-aged man in a brown leather jacket over blue overalls. The man’s smiling face became a frown of concentration. Eventually he rose, a little usteadily, excusing himself from the company, and followed Joran over to where I was waiting. As he approached I could see his eyelids were drooping over slightly glazed eyes. Clearly he’d been having a very good time.

The man’s English was passable but not nearly as fluent as his son’s.

“Hello. My name Rutjer Djikstra.” He held out his hand.

“Pleased to meet you Rutjer. I’m Arnold Miller. I used to be called Armin Mulder. I’m afraid I’m not able to shake hands - I would if I could. Jake and Doutzen here,” – I nodded in their direction – “are my, er, friends. Your son mentioned his grandfather, Johan Mulder. I wondered if you knew much about him?”

“Ja, ja, for sure. Johan is born here. Lived all the time here. Little farm, sheep, outside town, near the polder. Hard struggle young boy on his own. No vader or moeder to guide him. Married Alexia. All died now though. Their daughter, Beatrix, my wife.”

I was shocked at how much the news of Joe’s death affected me. After all these years it was still a blow. I couldn’t stop a tear falling.

I managed to ask, “Did he ever say anything about the war?”

“Ja, ja, one of the lucky young boys. Escaped to England with brothers. Had fine time. Was angry with England about months in Jeugdgevangenis, - how you say it – borstal, - for stealing things – food, shoes, toys for brothers. Kwam terug naar huis, - how is it, - came back home, - came home on vissersboot, after Nazis gone.”

“Fishing boat,” Joran interjected.

“Ja, on a fishing boat.

“So he stole things to try and help his brothers and as a result ended up spending time in a young offenders institution. Did he ever say what happened to his brothers?”

“Talked sometimes, de jongens, Pieter and Armin. House they were staying closed down. Once, twice tried to trace Mulders in England, but never with luck.

There were more tears in my eye as I admitted, “My God, so it looks like we were lost to each other just because in Edinburgh we had no idea where Johan had gone, and in Breskins he couldn’t trace us because he didn’t know they’d changed our official name to Miller. And having a police record he wouldn’t be welcome back in the UK to look for us.”

By the time we’d all had a drink together, told each other our stories, worked out my relationship to family survivors, and eaten our last portions of chips, it was getting quite late. Rutjer insisted I should come another day and meet Beatrix, who had been at the fair earlier but had gone home early. That was when Doutzen realized with a start that the last ferry back across the estuary had already sailed.

“We’ll have to hire a taxi to Vissingen,” she insisted.

But Rutjer interrupted our deliberations. “Nee, nee,” he said “cost a lot. Too much money. I have small boat. No used much now. So no problem. Must help my new familie, er, relative, eh? Too tired myself now but Joran ferry you over quick and bring boat back.”

Joran looked simultaneously proud and surprised at his father’s suggestion.

We didn’t like to refuse Rutjers’ generous hospitality so we said our farewells and followed Joran towards a concrete ramp which ran down into the harbour. It was no doubt intended for vehicles to bring in or tow away boats on trailers. It made for an easy approach by wheelchair.

Darkness was falling as Joran stopped beside a small launch tied up to a capstan on the quayside. It rocked, squeaking quietly against a couple of old tyres slung over its side as a bulwark against the stone harbour wall. Little more than a large rowing boat it had a sentry box wheelhouse and decking that only covered the forward section around the wheelhouse and a square section at the stern. Its white paint was peeling, its varnished brown woodwork starting to rot. Thin metal posts linked by a rusting chain guarded the port and starboard. To facilitate fishing there was no fence along the square ended stern. There were pools of water sloshing around above the wooden hull in the hollow between the decked areas. The boat put me in mind of my work in the scrapyard many years ago.

Jake and Joran lifted me, still in the hotel’s manual wheelchair, on to the little half deck at the stern, Jake making sure the wheelchair’s brake was on. I sat facing the wheelhouse. Jake helped Doutzen step aboard carefully and they held hands leaning on the wheelhouse. Then Joran jumped on, slipping past them into the tiny sentry box. We waited expectantly as Joran turned the key. After several attempts a small engine wheezed into life, putt-putting erratically.

Jake exchanged a wary look with Doutzen and me. Doutzen was clearly dubious about the boat’s seaworthiness, her forehead wrinkling into a worried expression. But Jake held her hand, reassuring her with a hug. And anyway, the lights of Vissingen seemed hardly any distance away at all.

“Are you sure you’re ok there,” Jake asked me, pulling the woolly hat down over my head. “You’ll be very exposed if a wind gets up or it starts to rain.”

I shook my head and smiled, poo-pooing Jake’s fussiness and dismissing any concerns he and his girlfriend might have about me. I wanted to show trust in my great nephew just as I’d trusted his grandfather all those years ago.

“Don’t worry Jake,” I said. “I’ll be fine. And if anything happens it’ll be my own fault.”

Instead of worrying about cold or rain, I decided that as I’d be parked by myself on the stern deck for a while, I might as well pass the time updating my diary.

“This boat reminds me of one in which I once crossed the North Sea,” I said in a loud forced tone of confidence so that Joran could hear me. He turned his shock of bronze hair back towards me and smiled appreciatively.

Doutzen was still apologising for forgetting to check the return ferry timetable when we were already halfway across the estuary. An easterly wind had got up and the engine was so weak that it seemed we were being pushed more out to sea than straight across the estuary.

“Certainly my mistake as much as yours Dot,” a conciliatory Jake was saying when the engine suddenly emitted a low sigh and cut out. We were left bumping up and down on the waves.

The silence on the boat was deafening. The moon’s face seemed to be laughing at us. Doutzen stared down at the water gradually swelling in the foot of the boat. Jake’s eye was on the moving coastline, watching as the tide coming in swelled as it ran up against the strong flow of fresh water flowing from the Scheldt. The little boat was drifting, the river water combining with the wind to force it quickly further out into open sea.

Lines of anxiety spread rapidly across Joran’s young forehead, but he didn’t panic. Like Joe he was prepared to confront the challenges life threw at him.

“Does anyone know about engines?” he asked, but unfortunately drew a blank in response. Then he tentatively suggested that we might try bailing out the water. But Jake and Doutzen had nothing with which to do that except cupped hands, and that proved wholly ineffectual. As the boat started sinking lower in the water, panic showed in Doutzen’s widening eyes.

“I can’t swim,” she repeated several times, her voice rising as it strained to suppress a growing hysteria.

“Me neither,” Jake added disconsolately, drawing Doutzen closer to him, and trying to comfort her with soothing words.

Joran dropped his head guiltily. “Old fishing communities – very superstitious people – they see learning to swim as tempting fate – so I was never taught either.”

I became very aware that safety equipment on the dilapidated and seldom used boat was non-existent. There was no short-wave radio of course, but neither were there any lifebelts or flares on board. If the boat went down we’d all drown.

Joran and Doutzen scrambled for their mobile phones. But it soon became obvious that on the open sea reception was faint and garbled to the point of non-existence.

Jake rummaged around in his pockets and eventually retrieved a small torch that hung from his belt. But no-one knew the morse code for S.O.S. Instead, he and Jorin took turns simply waving the tiny beam of light out towards the big commercial harbour at Vissingen that we were increasingly drifting further away from.

“I’m sure it’ll attract someone’s attention ,” Jake said, rather desperately hoping someone ashore would want to investigate our situation.

The water was still rising. Jake stepped into the bottom of the boat to check and was stunned to find himself soaked well above the knees. He looked towards me, his face drawn, and though he said nothing I could see the fear in his eyes.

“Soon the water will fill the boat,” Doutzen almost screamed. Jake pulled himself out of the water and, shivering, held her tight.

The situation was genuinely terrifying and, like the others, I struggled to stay calm in this crisis.

But for all that, I was still capable of enough clear thinking to recognise that the boat’s buoyancy would be greatly helped by reducing the weight of its cargo. Unfortunately, the only cargo was the four people on board. I understood my own body weight, together with that of the wheelchair and blankets, was exacerbating the problem. I couldn’t bear the thought of me being the cause of Joe’s grandson drowning, of me bringing such grief to Beatrix, his mother and Joe’s daughter. I hated to be the cause of Doutzen and Jake being so ruthlessly torn apart so soon after finding each other.

Just as wholesale hysteria was about to consume us Jorun spotted a set of red lights flickering into life in the fast disappearing Vissingen harbour.

“A rescue boat,” shouted Joran with desperate relief. “The coast guard has seen us.”

“Yes, they’ve picked up the torchlight at last,” Jake said, exhaling heavily.

“But the boat is sinking so fast. Water will soon be lapping over the sides,” howled Doutzen, splashed her legs around in the ever-deepening water. Jake held her tightly but words could no longer assuage Doutzen’s terror.

“How long do you think it will take for the lifeboat to reach us,” I asked Joran urgently.

“From Vissingen to where we are now, maybe twenty, twenty-five minutes.”

“The boat will have sunk long before that,” wailed Doutzen.

She was right. At the rate the water was rising I calculated it would only be ten minutes before the boat went down, leaving us all floundering around in the freezing water. The only chance of staying afloat longer was less weight. I estimated that removing me and my wheelchair would provide at least the extra ten minutes needed until the rescue boat arrived. And I was here to die anyway. It seemed my life, my death, suddenly had purpose and meaning after all. Maybe this had always been the reason for my existence.

I nudged my arm with my chin and let it fall to the side of the chair next to the brake lever. With my one working finger I pulled on it as hard as I could and breathed a sigh of relief as the brake lever released.

As the small boat’s bow rose up over the next wave, Jake, Doutzen, and Joran were all staring with desperate anxiety towards the flashing red lights which had now moved away from the shore. Doutzen clung to Jake, hoping against hope that his little torch might save the day, that the lifeboat might reach them before they drowned.

There was still a lovely smell of fish and chips that lingered on the blanket over my knees where my last meal had lain. I stole a last loving glance at Joe/Jorin and made a silent wish for Jake’s future happiness with Doutzen.

And they say dead men tell no tales. But if you’re listening to this it’s only because I managed to use my chin to knock the audio recorder off my coat collar so that it dropped on to the deck just as my wheelchair rolled backwards in response to a lifting the bow and leaving the stern pointing downwards.

The wheelchair would have run backwards quickly across the small section of stern decking, fast enough so that it tipped over when it hit the boat’s rim. With no guard rail to stop it, me and the wheelchair would have been dumped with a small splash into the North Sea.

So I suppose I must now be back in my natural home, lost somewhere between Holland and Britain. But even sinking to the sea floor I would have been thinking of having finally served my purpose in life and death. I’ll probably be arriving at the bottom before anyone even notices I’m gone.

#short story #euthanasia #netherlands #Reekie Revelator #war story #fishing

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jonasmaurer · 5 years ago

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The great gallbladder update

A gallbladder update (I wasn’t sure if you guys would want one but it’s the #1 search term on the blog every single day).

So here it is! A whole post about an…organ.

I hesitated to write this post for a couple of reasons. 1) Maybe this signals the death of my blog when I’m writing about a gallbladder?? lol and 2) Not only is this about an organ, but it’s pretty much the least glamorous one out there. Never google pictures of an actual gallbladder.

I didn’t really want to write this post because ew and blah but after checking my blog stats, month after month, the top search term was “gallbladder.” I figured it made sense because I didn’t write much about it (not intending to be vague but to avoid boring you with personal medical details) and figured it would be worth a post because gallbladder issues are so common and many of you may be experiencing something similar. Please keep in mind that I’m not a medical professional. I’m just sharing my experience. Comments attacking me, my gallbladder (heh), and/or other posters will be deleted.

Here’s the story:

About 6 months ago I did some hormone testing. I was feeling tired and my previous hormone test had shown some low levels, so I did the DUTCH test, which is a gold star in hormone testing. It tests EVERYTHING. My body was making sufficient hormones but not processing them effectively, leading to estrogen dominance. This is what can cause PMS symptoms, mood swings, and fatigue. When my doctor was going over the Dutch test results, he mentioned that I had some signs of fatty liver disease. He said that the gallbladder supports the liver and that he would send me some supplements that would help my liver and my gallbladder work together to process hormones and all of the other functions that they need to do, especially digestion. I received the supplements and was really excited to try them out. They were plant-based herbs (and an ox bile one that makes my stomach churn to think about…) but it was a lot more supplements and I’m used to taking and many of them were alcohol-based. I only drink maybe twice a week now, so alcohol in my stomach first thing in the morning was rough. I took the supplements twice that day, and was up all night curled in a ball with searing pain in my stomach.

This was alarming to me because besides the occasional gluten food baby, I’ve never really had stomach issues. I I texted my naturopath and he said it sounded like an ulcer (even though I thought the supplements likely made me sick). I couldn’t eat anything besides applesauce for two days and I reached out to one of my good friends who is a PA to see if I could get in for an appointment. I’m glad I decided to see her through all of this because she’s become my favorite medical provider. She’s extremely thorough and while she has a more Western medical philosophy, she believes in solving problems instead of masking symptoms. She’s absolutely amazing and wanted to check all the boxes, so she ran a bunch of test and suggested an abdominal ultrasound just to make sure I didn’t have an ulcer or anything else going on.

When I got the ultrasound of my stomach, it was painful for them to press down on my organs. Thankfully everything looked good but the ultrasound showed two small polyps in my gallbladder. (No gallstones or anything like that.) My PA told me that the polyps could have been there this entire time and were likely cholesterol deposits but that we would keep an eye on them over time and monitor for any changes. Worst case, I would end up having to have my gallbladder taken out. (She said of all of the organs to lose, that’s the best one.) I also started working with Ali Damron over the fall and she has me on a couple of very gentle supplements that have helped remarkably with the estrogen dominance issues.

I understand that a lot of things are outside of our control but I am also a believer in controlling any variables that we can. I researched a ton and I learned a lot about gallbladders -I never thought I would know so much about dang gallbladders -and I’m not going to share everything I did here because the and result is that the polyps didn’t go away. (I highly recommend this book if you’re having any gallbladder probs!)

The good news is that there were no changes. I recently had another ultrasound and the polyps were same size. My PA said that since I don’t have any symptoms, we’ll likely just wait and watch. If they change or grow over time, or if I start to have symptoms, I’ll have to have it taken out. For now, it would be cool if I got to keep it, mostly because I’m SO OVER surgeries.

Over the past six months I’ve made some changes to my diet to make my gallbladder happy. They’re not huge fans of dairy or gluten, which are two things that have made me bloated and uncomfortable for years. Since I’ve paid more attention to keeping them away for now, I’ve been WAY less bloated and feel great. (Real sourdough doesn’t mess with me if it’s made the old-fashioned way.)

If I know I’m going to a party or holiday event and am going to eat dairy/gluten or super heavy/rich foods, I just pop a couple of these:

(I order these through Thrive Market! You can use my link to get 25% off your first order.)

I eliminated eggs for the past 5ish months (apparently gallbladders can also have probs with eggs and pork, and I don’t eat pork) in the hopes that maybe it would help the polyps go away. Since they’re still there, I’m eating eggs again and OMG I MISSED THEM. I’m just trying to be more moderate about it, and instead of 2-3 eggs per day (that I had for years and years!) I’m having about 2 a week. I found a lot of egg-free breakfast options that I love over the past few months.

Since this whole experience happened:, I’m doing more things that are good for our health as a whole:

– I’m eating way more colorful foods, leafy greens, and veggies.

– Stopped tracking macros. I was eating a lot of brown food and heavy animal proteins to hit my numbers, and found that I was often eating when I wasn’t hungry to hit a number. I’m back to eating more intuitively and it feels great. My food is way more nutrient-dense, higher in fat, lower in protein, and more varied.

– I’m drinking more water. My Hydroflask is my constant companion and I try to refill it at least twice during the day.

– I’m practicing hot yoga regularly again. Yoga can help our organs function more effectively, plus you get the benefits of mindfulness, flexibility, and a good sweat. I’ve been going about once a week since school started in the fall, and it’s something I look forward to each week.

So there’s the story! We’re just watching and waiting and hoping for no changes. Thanks to those of you who sent me good vibes along the way. <3

xoxo

Gina

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freakysensation · 6 years ago

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Preparing - Improv Cooking or even Cooking Without A Online

Preparing - Improv Cooking as well as Cooking Without A World wide web

Rochelle Adonis A new loose definition involving the word impr�vu is usually to invent, compose, or perform something extemporaneously. One example is if you've ever found any Woody Allen film, chuckled at a drawing on Saturday Night time Are living or heard Miles Davis play notes involving songs not bound at this world, you've experienced improvisation within action. As it is usually in movies, sketch comedy or jazz like the enjoyment of improvisational cooking will be in the results in which springtime forth from prompted creation. How do an individual use a recipe? Can you follow each step in addition to calculate each ingredient having the accuracy of the chemist? Do you nervously meter out the baking time of your biscuits by going your foot or so to the rythme of the timer? We carry out this culinary art to help please more than the stomachs, the reasons far too numerous to cover. Whatever the actual reason we usually technique it with recipe on hand. Often times a menu most of us don't understand. The particular essence of Improv Preparing, with it's somewhat Zen like approach, demands if you're imagination and behavioral instinct in order to help you solve often the secret question of the recipes. The Steps To Enhanc Cooking Rochelle Adonis Improvisational preparing food will be not so much reading in addition to following a recipe as it is utilizing skills and techniques to be able to go on a recipe to yet another level or even create a recipe out only the larder full of ingredients. You have to hold a certain amount connected with skill and understanding ahead of plunging in to virtually any kind of cooking food. Improv Cooking is no different. It forces you in order to trust your instincts while well. Stick to these 7 simple steps and you will quickly be free to open the fridge and simply get started cooking. #1 Preference As numerous Different Styles connected with Cooking as Possible This is probably the simplest of all of the Improv methods to study and master. Simply try to eat as many different cooking styles as you may. The axiom is easy. The more you're subjected to, the more imaginative likely to turn into. Fill your earphones along with nothing but Britney and it absolutely would be difficult to think about Charlie Parker's saxophone. Therefore, feed on nothing but the actual same restaurant or even house cooked food at all times in addition to your cooking vocabulary will reflect it. #2 Be aware of Basic Fundamental Techniques regarding Cooking You can't choose up the trumpet as well as expect to seem like A long way Davis without knowing a few things first. I won't enter into all the stuff that could and will certainly get it wrong. I'm sure a person get the picture. Very well, Improv Cooking follows the same rules. You can't assume to have the ability to whip out and about a perfect Coq Au Vin without knowing the actual approaches involved to complete so. But, the actual benefits will be greater as soon as you do. The following listing is greater than just the essential fundamentals however. I've detailed all the techniques as well as methods that issue for you to the experienced cook. Often the Oven Group Roasting rapid Cooking with dry high temperature that surrounds the meals with as much immediate heat as you possibly can. Pan Cooking - The actual wary tiny secret of each professional kitchen. This is a combined method of starting the food in a hot saut� pan then finishing with a hot cookware. Broiling - A uncle for you to grilling, this is immediate heat cooking with the actual temperature source above the food as an alternative to under the item. Braising -- Moist warmth cooking generally achieved inside a sealed textbox just like a Dutch oven, tagine or stoneware crock. Of baking - A dry heat method of cooking typically referring to breads, pastries and so forth. The Wet Group Cooking : Cooking in a new large quantity associated with water, usually water. Piping-hot - Cooking in a closed container with a smaller amount of chemical (usually water but not especially) with the food stopped covering the liquid so in which it only comes in contact with the particular steam vapors. Poaching rapid Best known as any technique to cook egg, seafood as well as perhaps chicken. This is usually cooking in a hot still liquid where the liquid never reaches regarding green bare simmer. The Frying Group Saut�ing - Preparing food in a hot pan using tiny or no fat (butter, oil etc. ) Baking pan Baking - Very identical to saut�ing, other than accomplished with more fat. Oftentimes enough to almost bury the food. Stir-Frying : The Asian method associated with cooking within an extremely very hot pan, normally a wok, with not much fat even though keeping the food pretty much in constant movement. Deep-Frying - Cooking simply by fully immersing the food throughout hot fat. The extra fat does the job of cooking simply by encircling the meal with heat, thereby letting it to cook more quickly sealing in natural fruit juices and flavors. If carried out properly it's not the health demon most men and women assume it is. Often the Outdoor Group Grilling rapid Cooking over direct warmth with the food generally maintained a grate regarding some type. This method can certainly be performed indoors also with the right gear. Smoking instructions This is usually actually two sub organizations. Hot smoking is cooking food at temperatures that will probably cook the food with the same time the item infuses the food using smoke taste. Cold cigarettes is done with all the warmth source separate in the preparing chamber so the your meals are enveloped in low temperature smoke that will introduce flavor without cooking. Rotisserie - Like grilling, this method does not specifically have to be accomplished outdoors for the lucky number of that have the ability within a well-equipped kitchen. In any case this is cooking along with the meal suspended more than or near to direct temperature and spun via simply by some kinetic means. Typically the Sauce Party Here's just where it will get a minor dicey and can independent the cooks from the particular pretenders. Some of these kind of techniques are best discovered at the elbow of someone who is been at this time there before. But never let in which stop you from excavating throughout and trying upon your own. You may well have some pretty dreadful goods, but the endeavor will teach you a good deal. Stock - A cornerstone of cooking, whether, various meats, fish, poultry or vegetable. A low and slower cooking food that's meant for you to draw the actual essence of flavor to a liquid web form. Brown Sauce - Generally made with gound beef or even veal, but might be made with any brown share made from roasted our bones, flavor with aromatic herbal remedies as well as vegetables. Demi-Glace - Just like brown sauce only produced without a thickener and reduced to thicken and accentuate flavors. Whitened Sauce -- Also well-known as B�chamel, made with dairy products and or product and thickened with the roux (flour along with spread paste) Veloute -- Created very much like white gravy, except the milk is usually replaced usually simply by a gentle colored inventory of either meat or perhaps poultry. It is usually enhanced together with egg yolks and butter at finishing. The "Aise" Family instructions This includes Hollandaise and all the progeny like b�arnaise, choron etc. and mayonnaise and all its descendants like aioli, remoulade etc. These are all of emulsion sauces having egg cell bases and the body manufactured mostly regarding oil or perhaps butter. Additional Emulsions - This can easily range from aiolis as well as butter sauces to vinaigrettes, to pan sauces that happen to be thickened or finished final with butter and or even cream. Gravy - Any gravy in loose terms just. Gravies are generally made with often the fruit drinks collected from roasting beefs or poultry. Often the non-thickened varieties are sometimes identified as "Jus" in modern selection vernacular. The Soup Group The Hearty Family instructions This includes all the varieties you intend to serve inside meal-sized bowls like gound beef stew, rooster and dumplings, chili, chowder and guazzabuglio. Bisque -- Usually in addition to intensely flavor soup which been thickened along with almond, potatoes or a flour paste called panade. Purees - Similar to parfaite in nature but generally made using a single organic flavoring as well as thickened through pureeing the complete mass through some technical or regular means. Usually these cereal are over with cream. Products - Just about any soup, thicker or tiny, where any significant portion of the particular water is either dairy products or ointment. Broth -- Often confused with commodity, both are liquids which have been flavoured together with aromatics. But the basic building block of commodity is actually bones whereas broth is made up from pieces of meat giving it more collagen. This is the top sticking quality that gives broth its viscous physique. Consomm� - A broth that is clarified with egg white wines The Miscellaneous Set It is a hodgepodge of tactics that will give you any little more depth for your creativity. Papillote, Packages and also Pouches - This is actually where the food item is bandaged and closed in pieces of paper, foil as well as sometimes some sort of natural wrapper such as hammer toe husk or banano leaf of tea. The packages might be grilled by baking, broiling, cooking food or grilling. Dumplings -- This is a extremely extensive category of foods and procedures that includes many varieties this I am just going to break put into a couple families. Often the filled funds variety along with the nothing but dough variety. The filled funds relatives have names just like ravioli, dim sum, kreplach or pierogi. After gas, these succulent siblings may be steamed, boiled, baked as well as fried. The nothing although cash relations generally merely pass the name "dumpling" but at times have often the main flavoring previous their very own surname such as apple mackintosh or onion. Also for this branch of the forest are generally hush puppies, zeppoli and also matzoth balls. Boule - Usually a deep-fried goody, but sometimes cooked. A soft filling of any kind of manner of meat, cheese, veg or fruit encased throughout a crispy shell. Bringing - Very popular these days. Besides turkey in Thanksgiving, it's an essential within the process of smoking certain foods, like fish or ham. But will typically stand on its unique within foods like gravlax as well as prosciutto. Pat� -- An italian term to identify a dish made with forcemeat (ground) involving innards or any kind associated with meats. But the technique occurs in additional dishes and has recently already been tagged to concoctions regarding veggies or fruits since well. Cool meatloaf is usually technically some sort of pate. Charcuterie - Grace my People from france, but they does have a huge influence in the substantive cooking. This kind of term handles all ways of lean beef making along with preserving associated with meats. The particular Baker's Team This party of techniques is exactly where the art of preparing meets the science regarding food. Precision in measurement, combination of ingredients and strategy is essential. Discipline along with a strict faith for you to formula must affect the sagging attitude you can acquire for other areas of cooking. However as in living, there are no absolutes. Once mastered, these kinds of strategies will reveal many ways to be able to tweak and stretch the recipe to your will certainly. Yeast Breads - These types of can be savory as well as special, loaves, rolls or perhaps doughnuts. They can become baked, fried or even steamed. Quick Breads - The particular "Quick" generally refers to the lively leavening that's reached having eggs, baking soft drink, the baking powder, and virtually any collaboration thereof. These is usually baked in loaves as well as cups of (then they're identified as muffins). Or steamed throughout conforms which will change their very own name to pudding. Pies, Tarts and Cobblers instructions Be they one brown crust area or two, hand placed or deeply dish, cream filled, berry filled, custard or meat. The standard construction varies very little. Muffins and Tortes rapid The actual basic building blocks of flour (usually wheat however may be any variation), sweetener (sugar, honey whatever) as well as leavening (very similar for you to quick bread) rarely alter. The differences almost all arrive in the flavoring as well as final construction. Icings along with Frostings etc. - A real sub group of truffles in addition to tortes, but regarding this goal it stands alone. I'm including inside this arena fondant, buttercream, ganache, boiled icing and the wondrous creations finished with pulled sugar. Souffl�s as well as Mousse- A seemingly overwhelming hurdle to the newbie, however once the straightforward construction of flavoring foundation lightened using egg white wines in the case of souffl� or whipped treatment to get mousse is mastered the actual sky is typically the limit. Custards - Mastering how to manage equally breeds, baked and stir-cooked over heat, opens options for both sweet as well as savory variations. Puddings : A difficult process in order to solve because of the actual wide range of meals that may be called puddings. #3 Understand the Relationships connected with Scent, Flavor, Texture and Colouring The relationships regarding smell, flavor, texture and also color are possibly often the most important element of enhanc cooking. In order with regard to virtually any dish to end up being cooked well, the food must be complete. This must appeal to most the intuitively feels completely and with harmony. Webster's Book describes these elements inside following way; Aroma instructions A pleasant characteristic smell Flavoring - the taste experience if a savory condiment is considered into the actual mouth Texture - The actual distinctive physical composition as well as structure of something, specifically with respect to the actual size, shape, along with option of its areas. Shade - That element of items that is caused by means of different qualities of the actual light resembled or spewed by them. To help make all of this perform with harmony is zero small task. Whether coming from recipes or maybe you're imaginations it's the crux involving all cooking. To neglect or diminish anyone of such elements would result with a food that's certainly not complete. And by form a contrast, to enhance or through emphasize everyone of these kinds of elements as well would certainly result in a recipe that is off stability and probably not quite appealing. So how complete you know after you acquire it right? Is generally there a formula or program of measuring these ingredients that can insure all typically the items of the puzzle are usually in spot? No, a person just know when it functions. Even though the harmony of these elements is essential, the right solution is up to you. Enable your personal go and also become the recipe as well as as was first said in Caddyshack "Be the particular ball! " Let your own feelings tell you what's happening in that pot or perhaps pan. Smell, taste, look and even hear the actual food as it cooks. Very low great story to help tell when you let it. #4 Learn the Art of Backing Very few things we all cook stand-alone. Even often the most well-crafted stew or perhaps broth becomes even far more complete along with interesting through what it is dished up with. The gamut connected with choices can range through side dishes to assaisonnement in order to beverages and also to the selection of lighting or music. The fact is there are too many alternatives to go over in detail. The particular best way to solution this particular dilemma is in order to first be aware of goal. Mainly because there are huge locations these as well, some sort of simple lunchtime for a couple of suggests a different range of choices from a significant loved ones gathering or an elegant meal. Throw this kind of into the mixture coupled with your own levels of potential or relaxation with selected techniques along with dishes along with well My partner and i think you get the point. Perhaps the finest way to be able to approach this step towards Enhanc Preparing is to begin with whatever you know, because just as the right accompaniments can certainly make a meal, an incorrect ones can just because very easily destroy it. #5 Make With Others "One can acquire everything inside solitude besides character. inch Stendhal, In Love, 1822 Unlike jazz music, comedy or any of the some other improvisational arts, where the particular work of improv will be rarely done alone, an individual not usually think of preparing food as something can as well as should be done using others. Yet there tend to be the accidental improvisational sessions that happen all typically the time. While creating typically the skills of Improv preparing, you should plan a number of intentional cooking sessions centered on a specialized dish or meal which two or perhaps more people can prepare yourself together. Cooking with somebody else can magically open the door to your creative imagination. #6 Taste Analytically I actually began cooking because I actually wanted to understand the secret behind the food I was eating. Tasting smelling and also analyzing ingredients to realize the end results each can have got within a meal will be an essential improvisational ability. The more you accomplish it the easier it becomes to unlock the magic of the dish. This expertise coupled with a solid comprehension of technique will permit you to accomplish wonderful points in the house. #7 Break the guidelines. With no a sense of pursuit, which is the ultimate rule breaker, we would likely have never walked about the moon or experienced Toute derniere Cuisine. The space plan produced hundreds of modern-day conveniences we like to today. Nevertheless many meal writers and also Chefs search upon Toute derniere Cuisine using the same disdain as the embarrassingly broad collars and fabric-made outfits of the day. Insolite Delicacies left us having a heritage of pushing the envelope. Unlike any other period in cooking, Culinary chefs were taking the anticipated and also giving us a new whole fresh way to see it. The foods, methods and presentations that will felt far out as well as strange in that case have right now become not only the typic for many Chefs, however a jumping off examine even wilder ways for you to cook. Breaking the principles is the mantra in many kitchens today. Gustable gustatory gustful strong gamy palatable foams, laser printed ready-to-eat paper, carnival midway snack foods served in the palaces an excellent source of cuisine are just a few of the particular methods rules are currently being broken. In the event something senses like a principle often the next time you're within the kitchen, and then break up it. You may develop something inedible, but anyone learn a valuable lesson. I can't point out adequate that once you merge your increased knowledge of approaches, flavors and development your personal imagination will end up being free to notice brand new avenues to explore. Soon the rules will commence disappearing.

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