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thepassionof-joanharrow · 2 years ago

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This is How We Walk on the Moon ~Chapter 4:| Matt Murdock x OFC

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Summary: Sura Harmon works for a nonprofit foundation in NYC and goes to Nelson and Murdock to find some lawyers for the foundation’s clients. Upon meeting Matt, he seems strangely familiar. Matt instantly recognizes Sura as someone he attempted to help while in his Daredevil suit just a week ago. As they continue to work together, Sura and Matt are drawn to each other more and more.

But little does Matt Murdock know that his new colleague Sura Harmon has just as many secrets as he does.

Warnings: Eventual smut, (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), swearing, discussion of trauma, death and mental illness, emotional angst, discussion of the blip/snap.

Word Count for Chapter 4: 2,452

A/N: This is an ongoing series and will have many chapters! Mostly Sura’s POV but will probably have some chapters be in Matt’s POV.

Also, aside from the prologue, each chapter will have a song to go with it. I highly encourage you to listen to the song to give you the vibe for some of the scenes in that chapter!

Today was when the rubber met the road. Sura was going to another meeting with Nelson and Murdock, but this time she was bringing one of the foundation’s clients with her. Brookes and Harmon had recently been helping Devin Marshall, a disabled widower whose landlord was using the building’s minor upgrade needs as a reason to kick them out.

Sura was outside of Nelson and Murdock’s building, waiting for the pop of Devin’s colorful hair to appear down the sidewalk.

Devin was in their fifties but maintained a youthful love of patterns and bright colors in their personal style. Sura smiled as she wondered what color their hair would be this time. Last time it was teal, but she had a feeling it would be different already.

She tried not to think in terms of favorites, as she was worried it would affect her work, but if she was being honest with herself, Devin was one of her current favorite clients. Not only did they have the shared history of being queer and being in long term relationships with women, but Devin was downright hilarious. They always infused every situation with a levity that was surprising from someone who had been through so much recently. Sura had no doubt that Devin would charm the pants off Matt and Foggy.

And I wouldn’t mind seeing Matt without pants… Sura thought to herself and let out a small laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

The sudden voice on her left made her jump.

“Oh god! Crap, Matt.” Sura breathed hard. “You scared me. I didn’t see you coming.” And then her face turned crimson, realizing what she had just been thinking.

What is wrong with me I’m like a hormonal teen again.

Matt chuckled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.” He cocked his head at her. “You going to be okay?”

Sura’s heart was racing. “Yeah, sorry, no you’re fine. Haha, I just get scared easily. And when I have a sudden scare it takes me a minute to recover.” Was she recovering from the scare or from Matt’s hand on her shoulder?

“I can tell.” Matt grinned. “Again, I’m sorry. What were you doing waiting down here?”

“Oh uh, I’m waiting for the client we are meeting with today, Devin Marshall. I wanted to walk up with them but they are running a bit late I guess.”

“Ah” Matt shot his head towards the building’s entrance. “Well I’m going to go up, feel free to wait for them as long as you like. We’ll be ready whenever you all are.”

Sura was quiet for a moment as Matt started to head toward the door. She didn’t want to wait in the cold any longer. She wanted to walk up with Matt.

“Actually, I’ll come up with you.” Matt turned around to Sura as she spoke. “I’d like to get out of the cold and I’m sure Devin can find their way up okay. They have my number anyway in case.”

Matt smiled. “After you then.” He held open the door for her and they walked in.

During the walk up to the office, Sura was mostly silent. She wanted to say something, to strike up a conversation, but she wasn’t sure what to say.

I think that convo with Luce the other night has rattled my brain. You don’t have to ask him out if you don’t want to. But….I do want to get to know him better. No harm in that right?

As they walked and Sura thought, she noticed the way Matt smelled. It was interesting, he didn’t seem to be wearing any cologne. But he smelled good.

Very good. She thought. Like….warmth. Skin. Faint woody notes. And leather. And something sweet underneath it all that she couldn’t pinpoint. But it wasn’t overpowering, and if they hadn’t been alone in a small stairwell, she probably wouldn’t have caught all these details at all.

Matt interrupted her thoughts as they entered the hallway and he came up beside her. “So how long does it take you to get here? I hope its not too long of a commute given how many meetings we’ve been having.”

“Oh I live here!” Sura laughed and checked herself. “I mean, in Hell’s Kitchen.” “Oh really?” Matt turned his head to her. “Wow, that’s convenient!”

“Yeah its pretty nice. I usually just walk here.”

“How long have you lived in the neighborhood?”

“Uh, about 2 years?”

“Do you like it?”

“I do actually. I wasn’t sure at first. I’m used to living in the East Village. And I was in Chinatown right after college for a bit. But I’ve come to really love it.”

“That’s great. I’m glad you like it here.”

“What about you, where in the city do you live?”

They had already entered the office, but their conversation continued upon finding the reception area empty.

Matt smiled as he folded up his cane. “I live in the neighborhood as well. Always have. It’s home.”

“Oh that’s great! Doesn’t take you long to get to work. The foundation is still located in the Lower East Side so it takes me a bit longer to get into work these days.”

Sura looked around. Foggy was busy in his office, and Karen was not in today. Devin had texted to say that they were running late.

After a moment of silence while Matt and Sura hung up their coats, he continued asking her questions.

“So, you used to be the co-head of the foundation. You started it with Colin Brookes I believe? Why are you doing the grunt work now?”

Sura gave a brief sigh of concession. “You probably read about me and the past several years when you looked up the foundation.”

Matt acknowledged this. “I did.”

Sura gave a small smile, “So I suppose there is no point in ignoring it. I was blipped. And when I came back, my business partner had given the position to someone else. He had changed the legal documents and everything. I had been declared dead so…” she shrugged.

Matt leaned back on the receptionist’s desk and folded his arms. “That must have been quite a shock to come back to.”

“Yes, well…it was. Among many other things. I don’t blame Colin at all. He’s one of my best friends. He needed someone to help him run things, make decisions. And the person he promoted completely deserved it. Darby, she’s an angel. She’s perfect for the job”

“But you suddenly found yourself without a job”

“I did. I was without….anything. Almost.”

Sura looked at Matt, hardly believing that she was telling a lawyer these things. Talking about being blipped was something she reserved for her family, her close friends and her therapist. Bringing up the trauma of the past 3 years did not display the strength and competency that she wanted.

But the way Matt was listening to her, made her want to go on. She felt safe somehow.

She cleared her throat. “I was lucky in many ways. My family, they took me in right after I returned. No one else in my family was gone, immediate family anyway. So they could give me all the support I needed to reintegrate into the world. I stayed with them for about a year so I could get back on my feet. They live out in Red Hook, Brooklyn so it was a bit more quiet than here and I could adjust with a little bit of peace.”

Matt smiled at this, but then the door opened and Devin Marshall walked in.

“My dear!” Devin’s voice boomed. “I made it, two fucking train delays but I’m here and ready to do battle.”

Devin was round and short but they seemed much taller than they were with their bright purple pompadour and loud voice.

“Devin! Lovely to see you” Sura bent down a little to give Devin a warm hug. Devin squeezed her tight and kissed her cheek. She wasn’t usually this friendly with clients, but Devin was just this kind of person. Endearing to everyone and they had taken a special shine to Sura.

Sura motioned between Devin and Matt. “Devin Marshall, this is Matt Murdock. He’s going to be your lawyer.”

Matt held out a hand and Devin shook it but then pulled Matt in for a hug as well, kissing his cheek. Matt blushed a little and laughed. “It’s great to meet you Mr. Marshall…or Mrs. Marshall? I’m sorry…”

He trailed off, a bit of embarrassment in his tone.

Devin laughed “It’s okay love, you can just call me Devin! Or Darling Devin. Delightful Devin. Devastatingly handsome Devin.” They winked and Matt and Sura laughed. “But Mx. Marshall is good for more formal situations. And seeing as how we’ll be fighting the man in court together we might find ourselves in some I should say!”

Matt was beaming already. Sura smiled. She knew he would like Devin.

“Hah, yes I should say so.” Matt replied. “Well please take a seat in the conference room over there and I’ll be with you all as soon as I grab some coffee. Would you all like anything?”

After they all got coffee and tea, Foggy was ready and they all gathered around the table to discuss Devin’s case.

They all finished the meeting in tears from laughter. Devin had indeed charmed the pants off both Foggy and Matt, and Sura got a kick out of watching Matt laugh and grin so much. His smile was wide and warm and made Sura feel happier than she had remembered feeling in a while.

Sura walked Devin to the door. “I’m really optimistic about your case hun. I think we can win this.”

“I do too doll. We still on for brunch next Saturday?” Devin placed both hands on their walking cane and looked up at Sura. “Also, I really love the new freckles. It’s a new color right?”

Sura beamed. “Yes! I had Carmen do a bit more of a reddish brown this time. I’m glad you like it.”

After her teenage and young adult years of style exploration, Sura had settled on a look for herself that she felt drawn to. She couldn’t explain exactly why she saw herself looking this particular way, only that it felt the most her. So along with dying her hair black, she got cosmetic tattooed freckles over her prominent cheekbones and strong nose. They were designed to fade out gradually over a year, so she got them freshly done every January.

“And yes, we are good for Brunch. Rosemary’s?” Sura opened the door for Devin.

“Rosemary’s it is!”

Sura gave Devin a hug and watched them walk down the hallway. She knew from experience that Devin never accepted help walking down stairs, but she at least wanted to see that they started down the first couple steps okay.

After Devin left, Foggy said he was going to go to his office to familiarize himself with another case that the foundation would be bringing to the firm in the next week.

Sura found herself alone in the meeting room with Matt. Devin had left her in a good mood.

She smiled as she said: “So, Matt, what did you think of Devin?”

"They are something else aren't they? What a character." Matt returned the humor in her voice. "I really liked them. I don't think I've ever laughed that much in a client meeting before."

"Oh yeah, they are one of a kind. They are so full of life and energy. You'd never be able to tell that they lost their wife a year ago. Even when they talk about her, it's with so much joy." Sura replied, a little wistfulness in her voice.

“I noticed that.”

“I wish…” Sura stopped herself.

“You wish…?” Matt cajoled, a small smirk on his lips.

“Oh I…hah, I was just going to be sappy.” Sura thought she might as well just say it now. “I just wish I could have that type of attitude. About someone I’ve lost. Focusing more on the time you had with them then the fact that they are gone.”

Matt moved forward a bit on the table and took his glasses off. He faced Sura squarely and said: “I can understand that. I understand that very much.”

His eyes are wonderful. Sura thought as she looked into them. Like swirled caramel and molasses. I hope he leaves his glasses off.

“I wish I could have Devin’s attitude with a lot of things actually. They have not had the easiest life”

“Oh yeah?” Matt’s interest in the lives of his client made Sura’s stomach get warm.

She looked into his eyes again. “Yeah. They were diagnosed with MS when they were a teen. And then their parents didn’t take it well when they came out. They insisted that they stay in a Catholic girl’s school. And they experienced a lot of homophobia and transphobia there.”

Matt winced, then loosened his tie a bit. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Sura stopped herself from looking at the extra bit of exposed skin beneath Matt’s throat. “Yeah, typical Catholic nonsense. They are no longer religious, for understandable reasons. I’m there with them on that.”

Sura watched as Matt’s expression changed. A look came over his face that she couldn’t quite figure out. His brows knit together and his mouth pursed. But that look quickly morphed into something else when he chuckled sheepishly and ran a hand through his hair.

Sura couldn’t stop herself from swearing. “Oh fuck. Are you…you aren’t Catholic are you?”

Matt smiled wide at her, then brought a hand to his chin. His eyes shined with an amusement that made Sura smile despite her incredible embarrassment.

“Hey, its…its okay. Yeah, I am.”

“Oh fuck me.”

Matt laughed louder this time, louder than Sura had ever heard him laugh before.

“I’m so so sorry. And please pardon my French.” She had her hands covering her face in shame. I’m just going to crawl away now and never come here again.

Then as Matt kept laughing, she snapped her head up and looked him straight in the face. “Is my discomfort amusing to you?”

“Yes, yes it is.” God, his fucking smile. Sura could stare at it all day. And when there was so much mischievous mirth behind it, she wanted to bathe in it’s glow.

“Well I guess amusing you after I’ve offended you is my penance.”

Matt laughed a little then got serious. “But Sura, you didn’t offend me. I’m okay with it.” “Are you sure? That is so unprofessional of me. I usually try to stay away from talking about politics or religion in work environments. I don’t know why I slipped.”

“I’m positive.” Matt folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Look, I was raised Catholic. I’ve been around other Catholics my whole life. I know that a good majority of us can be terribly intolerant. And I’m not going to ‘Not all Catholics’ you.”

Sura smiled in relief. Then she laughed, throwing in some more curses and he grinned at her like a school boy.

#marvel daredevil #daredevil fanfic #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #MCU fic #daredevil fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

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princessblanda · 2 years ago

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Disclaimer: I recognize that the general state of the world/humanity is a sad state of affairs right now. The people in charge of making the rules in this country are doing their damn best to regulate your uterus, my uterus, and every uterus that will ever exist but god forbid they regulate access to the deadly weapons that have killed so many living, birthed children; the planet is fevering in an attempt to rid itself of our all-consuming virulence and we’ve been warned for decades that this was coming, but continue to do absolutely nothing to ensure our survival as a species; we’re still in the midst of a once-in-a-lifetime global pandemic that has killed >6 million people and counting, but ~cOvId Is oVeR~; and god help you if you’re not a rich, white, cis man basically anywhere on Earth. So, yes, I get it. In the grand scheme of things, the breakup of a boy band seems rather trivial. But damn if it doesn’t hurt me anyway. This is a “both, and” type of situation.

Very recently, I learned what a parasocial relationship is. I’m not going to bore you with various “official” definitions; I will only say that when the term was first brought to my attention and I Googled it, a helpful list of questions popped up to determine whether or not I could, in fact, BE in a parasocial relationship:

Do you regularly check a celebrity’s social media? Do you send messages to this celebrity? Do you feel like you “know” this celebrity? Do you feel like you can trust this celebrity? Do you feel like you and this celebrity are soulmates?

Oh. Oh I see. Oh no.

I think I’ve been in parasocial relationships for as long as I can remember.

Is it pathological to be in a parasocial relationship? The DSM, which is essentially the handbook of diagnostic criteria for mental illness, is generally pretty clear that for a collection of symptoms to be considered a “disorder,” they must be somehow distressing to the person experiencing them, or otherwise disruptive to their ability to independently function in society.

I have no doubt that this is absolutely applicable to certain folks. An episode of MTV’s Catfish comes to mind, in which a man was convinced that he had been chatting online with the singer Katy Perry, even after the catfish (a non-celebrity woman who was not, in fact, Katy Perry) came clean to his face. The epilogue of the episode reveals that he continued to send messages to Katy Perry’s social media pages asking her why she sent a decoy to meet with him in London.

It’s easy for me to say that this doesn’t apply to me, myself. But I’m going to say it anyway. While it is often surprising, I do think that I am a fairly functional adult human being. I have a wonderful relationship with my husband and absolutely adore my lovey, precocious toddler. I own a home, have an advanced degree, and work a well-paying job. I also check the social media profiles of my favorite celebrities at least daily, sometimes send them messages when I feel like I have something interesting/important/encouraging to say, and I once, at age 14yo, had a dream in which I met and hugged one of my favorite Disney Channel actors at the time and proudly declared to my best friend the next day, “The hug felt real, not like a dream hug at all. I felt like I knew him. I think we’re soulmates.”

Which brings us to CNCO. In 2018, I was living in Houston where there are multiple options for Latin American and Spanish language radio stations. I was already previously a fan of bachata singer, Prince Royce, and found out that he would be featured on a song called Llegaste Tú, by the boy band CNCO. Being a loyal fan, I checked out the music video and immediately fell in love with these five, sweet, baby-faced boys named Chris, Joel, Erick, Richard, and Zabdiel. The rabbit hole was deep and wide and led me to Youtube to watch episodes of La Banda, the reality competition show on which CNCO was formed in 2015, to saving their entire discography on Spotify, to following all of them on Insta, to seeing them live in concert for the first time in January 2019, to following them into la Nueva Era after Joel went solo, to giving hour-long presentations on their origin and history and greatest hits for friends and acquaintances who regretted asking, to seeing them again at the Mas Flow reggaeton fest in Chicago literally less than a week ago.

The serotonin boost they provided was strong these past years, even in the context of my daily SSRI. I bop along to their upbeat tunes and then blush and giggle like a lunatic when I look up the lyrics later and realize that everything always comes back to sex. I know every part of every song at which I am supposed to scream, “CNCO!” in response to, “Que quienes somos?” or “Quien te dice?” If I only have five minutes to check Insta, I scroll through the stories and make sure I’ve seen all of theirs. I like and comment on the all the thirst traps. I know these boys. I trust these boys.

Then, last night, at los Premios Juventud, they broke my heart into a zillion little pieces right before I went to bed. CNCO se separa. CNCO is breaking up.

Sometimes, I have to explain facts of life in the most basic way to my almost three-year-old when he inevitably gets upset by an everyday occurrence.

“Yes, the bubble popped. That’s what bubbles do. Let’s blow some more.” “Yes, the flower you picked dried out in the sun. That’s what picked flowers do. Let’s go find some more.”

This morning, I find my logical brain trying a toddler-speak approach with my devastated heart. Yes, CNCO broke up. That’s what boy bands do.

But damn if it doesn’t hurt me anyway. I should be more affirming with my toddler.

This hurts like a breakup, but not like a typical band breakup. This hurts like I’m personally being broken up with and I’ve been completely caught off guard. We were good, weren’t we? Things were good. I just saw you last Sunday and we had an amazing time together. We were happy. You seemed happy. What happened? What went wrong? Is this my fault? Can I fix this?

¿Qué va a ser de mí, si tú te vas?

My husband reminds me that, as a fan, I should want Chris, Erick, Rich, and Zab to be happy of themselves. (Joel can take care of his own self, in my opinion, since he left first.) And I do, of course. I’m happy that they will no longer have to pretend to be single all the time (so highly suspect and inplausible!) in order to maintain the illusion that they are accessible and available to fans, for the label/management’s financial benefit. Chris could be YOUR boyfriend. YOU could go on a date with Zab. Ok now give us your money.

They have given us fans seven of the prime years of their lives with beautiful music, incredible live shows, and amazing choreographed group dancing. So much group dancing. They’ve given me, personally, a way to maintain some youthful energy and excitement about the world when it seems like so much around me wants to beat me down and make me feel elderly AF. So I guess it’s fair that they’re ready to step away, pursue other things, live more authentic lives and be true to themselves. I guess. It’s not, like, selfish of them or anything. They’re not, like, doing this to personally hurt me or anything.

Of course I feel like I know these boys. What is the point of social media if not to make us peasants think we have legitimate relationships with the rich and famous? And I don’t mean romantic relationships, necessarily. I mean that we are friends with these people, that we’ve somehow hung out with them before in a strange, pixelated group setting, that we could call them by their first names in public and they’d greet us back with a smile and a hug and ask about our moms.

So, again of course, I am devastated by this news. I really feel like I’m having an acute grief reaction. Why are humans like this? We always find ways to dive in, head-first, all-in, no holding back, to offering up our entire hearts and bodies to entities that are, by nature, fleeting, and thus will without question bring us pain and suffering in the end. Whether that’s in 10 months, 10 years, or 10 decades, everything ends and someone is always left behind. This is just another example of something that I attached my Vecna-like emotional tentacle to, wet squelching and all, refusing to guard my heart against the fact that it can’t be forever. Why would I even allow my heart to go to that place, the elephant graveyard of boy band fandoms? And now another part of my life, another relationship I had (be it parasocial or one-sided or whatever additional label anyone wants to slap on there) that I had naively assumed was a constant has dissolved. Because that’s part of being human. And that’s what humans do.

I know the music doesn’t go away. As long as Youtube exists, I know I will still have the videos. And I will still have the photos saved on my Google cloud, and the memories saved on the squishy hard drive that is my brain. And I might be dramatic for a while (it took serious self-control not to wear all black to the office today in mourning) but que va a ser de mi? Voy a estar bien. I will be ok.

But damn if it doesn’t hurt me anyway.

#cnco #cncowners #fandom #fangirl #breakup #boy bands #essay #parasocial relationships #christopher velez #zabdiel de jesus #richard camacho #erick brian colon #heartbreak

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folkreid · 3 years ago

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Everything has changed

TYPE: fluff

WORD COUNT: 1.8K

SONG MENTIONED: Everything Has Changed- Taylor Swift

SPENCERS POV

When I enter the grocery store something is off. Where is she?

The she I was talking about was the woman. She was always here at the same time as me. It's 3 AM. Which is a weird time to go to the store. Why I go to the store so early is a story.

One day I got home from a case and noticed I didn't have anything. No milk. No coffee beans. Nothing.

It was 3AM and this was the only store open 24/7.

FLASHBACK

This store looks sorta sketchy. I don't know if I should go in.

I walk in slowly going to the back of the store where it had a big sign saying "MILK".

I see a lady in pajamas, I understand it's early but everyone else here is dressed. Her pajamas had small little red monsters on them. She picks out candies, lost and lots of candies.

Her hair was messy, long and messy. Grown out bangs messed up in her face. She was really pretty. I'm intrigued.

I grab my milk and go to the line she was in. It took a while, she had a conversation with the worker. She then said goodbye to the other workers that where there. Did she know them?

I walk up to the line. "Just the milk?" the cashier asked. Shit. I was supposed to get other things, I guess I just got distracted by her. "Uh yeah" I respond. "Sorry for the wait" she tells me. "It's fine, do you know that girl?" I ask pulling out my wallet from my pocket. "Yeah, she comes every Sunday and buys a whole bunch of candy, she talks to everyone here, she's really sweet" the cashier responds. I give her a couple dollars for my milk and thank her before walking out.

I walk out and see the girl from earlier on the bench eating some candy. It was a green lollipop. I wonder if she's okay? What if she's a homeless? Or on drugs? Or mentally ill?

Maybe I should just leave her alone.

END OF FLASHBACK

Ever since that day I've gone to the market every Sunday at 3AM. I've listened to some of the conversations she would have with the workers. Turns out she's in college right now. I'm not sure for what. No boyfriend, no children, hardly any family. She also once said that she buys the candy because she baby sits children and gives it to them as a reward.

I look around the store. She really isn't here? She's always here. I turn back around and I bump into someone. Shit it's her. "S-sorry I wasn't watching where I was going" I quickly apologized. "No i'm sorry, it's my fault I was on my phone" she nervously said.

We stood there in silence for a couple seconds before she speaks up. "I-I'm Y/n by the way" she smiles looking up at me. "Spencer, Spencer Reid" I smile at her. "I notice you come here often" she says. "Y-Yeah, you do too" I reply.

"Yeah I usually stay in the parking lot for a while and listen to music" she slightly giggles. Adorable. "Last week I passed your car and I think you were listening to You Belong With Me?" I say hoping I was correct.

Her face lit up. "You know that song?" she gives a flashy smile. "I um my friend Penelope loves that song, and I memorized the lyrics" I look down at my feet. "Do you maybe wanna get coffee sometime?" she smiled cheeky. "Uh- I um- Y-yeah I would like that".

I hope i'm not scaring her away with my nervousness.

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Three months. We've been together for three months. I've never been so happy. I am a man of science, I don't believe in fate but that's what it feels like.

I hear a knock on my door. Y/n is here! I open the door and engulf her in a huge hug, I squeeze her tightly. I think I might be in love with her. She wraps her arms around my waist. "Hey baby" she squeezes me nuzzling her head into my chest. I kiss her forehead. "Come in babe" I tell move out the way so she can come in.

On our first month anniversary I took her on a date to the fair. Our second month I took her on a picnic date. Y/n said she just wanted to spend the whole day with me.

"Do you want me to order food?" I ask her, she starts walking to my room. "Yeah you choose" she flops down on my bed.

I order our food. I lie on my bed, lying my head on her chest. I wrap my arm around her waist. "Oh! Baby do you want to listen to my new favorite song" she smiles at me. "Of course I do babe". Y/n scoots down leveling her face with mine. She grabs her phone and starts playing the song.

All I knew

This morning when I woke

Is I know something now

Know something now I didn't before

And all I've seen

Since eighteen hours ago

Is green eyes and freckles and your smile

In the back of my mind making me feel like

Y/n sings along to the lyrics softly. The song says "And all i've seen since eighteen hours ago is green eyes, freckles and your smile"

But Y/n changed green eyes, freckles and your smile too "brown eyes beautiful smile". She possibly changed the lyrics for me, I wouldn't get my hopes up. She stares into my eyes and kisses me softly.

just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you, know you, know you

She kisses me all over my face. "I'm really happy with you" she whispers playing with my bottom lip. "I am too" I put an arm around her waist bringing her closer. She lies her head on my chest.

Cause all I know is we said, "Hello"

And your eyes look like comin' home

All I know is a simple name

And everything has changed

All I know is you held the door

You'll be mine and I'll be yours

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

Y/n holds me tightly on this part of the song. I can tell she feels it too. It's like this song was made for us. I feel like lyrics. We sat there mainly silent apart from Y/n's soft hums. I don't believe in soulmates or love at first sight but this felt so magical. I know she was made for me. We've only known each other officially for 5 months, we've been dating for 3.

These past three months have been the best.

I hear a knock on the door, our food must be here. "Our food is here i'm gonna go get it okay?" I ask her. She nods pausing her the song we were listening too.

I go get the food pay the man and go back to my room. Where is Y/n? I knock on the restroom door no reply. I go back to my room. Where is she?!

"Boo!" she scream coming out from behind the door. I jump, almost dropping the food. She jumps onto my bed laughing. "Y/n/n! I could've dropped our food!" I exclaim. "Well you didn't so..."

She comes to me grabbing the food from my hands and putting it down on the table. She then wraps her arms around my waist. She slaps my butt. "Ow! Y/n! Don't touch my butt!" she giggles at my reaction.

"Why? Your butt is cute" she gives my butt a squeeze. "That's enough" I pull her arms from around me and she pouts.

We eat our food and talk about our weeks. Y/n recently graduated from college. I'm so proud of her. She has a job interview next week, she says she's really excited. I'm excited for her!

We finish our food and lie back down. "Can we finish listening to the song, I'm dedicating it to you so you better not break my heart" she cups my face in her hands making sure I look her in the eye. "I won't I promise" she smiles giving me a quick peck.

And all my walls

Stood tall painted blue

But I'll take 'em down, take 'em down

And open up the door for you

And all I feel

In my stomach is butterflies

The beautiful kind, makin' up for lost time

Takin' flight, makin' me feel like

I watch as she sings the lyrics to her hear contents. She was so perfect. What if she doesn't love me back?

I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you, know you, know you

'Cause all I know is we said, "Hello"

And your eyes look like comin' home

All I know is a simple name

Everything has changed

All I know is you held the door

And you'll be mine and I'll be yours

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

"Spence?" she mumbled. "Yes?" I look down at her. She looks up at me with innocent eyes. "I love you" she quietly says. "What do you say?" I pretend I didn't hear. "Nothing" she lies back on my chest.

Come back and tell me why

I'm feelin' like I've missed you all this time

And meet me there tonight

And let me know that it's not all in my mind

she holds me tightly as she sings those lyrics. That's exactly how I feel. "I love you too" I whisper. She get up with a shocked look on his face. "R-Really?". "Of course I do" she stares at me in awe.

"Get up" she says standing up. I stand and she grabs my hand. "Let's dance"

"I don't know how to Y/n" I confess. "Neither do I" she smiles. I pull her into my chest as we rock back and forth to the rest of the song.

just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you, know you, know you

All I know is we said, "Hello"

Your eyes look like comin' home

All I know is a simple name

And everything has changed

All I know is you held the door

You'll be mine and I'll be yours

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

All I know is we said, "Hello"

So dust off your highest hopes

All I know is pouring rain

And everything has changed

All I know is a new found grace

All my days, I'll know your face

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

Everything has changed.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fan fiction

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cheri-translates · 4 years ago

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[CN] Lucien’s R&S - Since that rainy night (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (之自雨夜来) was part of the Dream Heart Lake event which will unlikely come to EN🍒

More Lucien R&S from this event:

> regarding what books don’t say

> my love rival older brother

> the missing victim

> since that rainy night ♡

[ Chapter One ]

“Boss, why hasn't Professor Lucien been around lately?”

“It just means you haven’t been coming at the right time.”

For some reason, ever since Lucien appeared on “Miracle Finder”, the shop has become a place where his female enthusiasts check in.

The more introverted ones would order a glass of juice and wait in a corner, their eyes flitting between their phone screens and the entrance of the bar. The more straightforward ones would be like the one before me - the moment they arrive, they go straight to the question, asking about “Professor Lucien” this, and “Professor Lucien” that.

In consideration of the privacy of my customers, I wouldn’t give them a clear answer.

Moreover, even though we’ve known each other for close to two years, my understanding of him still remains at “young and promising neuroscientist”, “Guest Professor at Loveland University”, and other superficial levels.

His entire being is akin to a dense fog, drawing people near, yet never letting one see it clearly. The ladies who have developed an interest in him all say that he’s scholarly, refined, and gentle - a man who is family-oriented, considerate and protective. But to me, that may not be his genuine self.

[ Chapter Two ]

The first time he visited was a rainy working day. At the dead of night, the shop only had a few customers who had been trapped in by the rain.

Everyone had long since lost the passion they had at midnight, laying on the tables listlessly and waiting for the rain to stop. I’d long since changed the background music to jazz, which was more appropriate for a rainy day. The melodious saxophone further elongated the dark night.

That was when Lucien came in, his entire body drenched. For a moment, I even thought the droplets pelting onto his white coloured lapel would dye his shirt the inky colour of night.

“‘A Foggy Day’ - what a suitable song for a rainy day.” I originally thought he was simply here to avoid the rain. But he appeared to be a music enthusiast who came here after being led by the music. “May I know if it’s still business hours?”

“We’re open for business till 5am in the morning.”

He lifted his hand and glanced at his watch. His eyes seemed to hold scattered moonlight. “Thank you. In that case, I still have 17 minutes to listen to his album.”

Not in the least reserved, he took off his jacket in front of me, removed his tie, his drenched shirt sticking to his young body. He looked sturdier than before, slightly different from the impression I got from people who wore white coats.

This contrast was basically my ideal type. Unfortunately, from a glance, it was clear that he wasn’t from around here. I could only settle my emotions, controlling my restless heart.

Because the bartender had already knocked off, I could only provide him with a glass of warm lemon water and a dry towel. “Give yourself a wipe first. You can stay here till the rain stops.”

“Thank you.” He looked so alert that he didn’t seem at all like an unlucky person who just got off work and was caught in the rain. He even chatted with me until the sky gradually turned bright.

During the idle conversation we shared over these few hours, I talked about things related to myself from time to time, while he would take small sips from that glass of lemon water and listen quietly. Occasionally, he would give me a few replies which didn’t come off as merely being polite.

Without doubt, he was a very good listener. To me, the feeling of being listened to was a little novel.

Usually, people who visit the shop are those with worries weighing on their minds, and I would be their “tree hole”, responsible for absorbing all sorts of emotions from them. Very few people cared about my opinions and what sort of a person I was. And the mysterious man who arrived on this rainy day spent a large part of the night listening to me talking.

By the time the rain finally stopped, I was on the verge of dozing off. But he was still radiating with vigour, and so alert that it was as though he could continue with work right after getting a change of clothes.

“Thank you. This has been a wonderful rainy night.”

When he left through the door that day, I never thought that this man, akin to a hallucination, would ever visit again.

[ Chapter Three ]

He didn’t come at regular intervals.

Sometimes, he’d visit consecutively over two or three nights. Sometimes, he’d appear once after a week or half a month.

But no matter when he visited, he’d always sit at the most inconspicuous corner of the bar, order a non-alcoholic cup of mojito and sit quietly.

He was gentle to everyone, and could maintain a somewhat nonchalant distance with anyone. But this didn’t mean that he wouldn’t take the initiative. In contrast, he often left his “designated seat”, and with some unknown conditions, selected and walked towards a “lucky individual”.

They could be lawyers experiencing disappointment at work, or they could be small celebrities who thought highly of themselves. They could be cross-dressing hobbyists whose genders were difficult to distinguish, or they could be a normal youth who was perplexed about the future...

The troubles these people held in their hearts and only dared to meld into music and glasses of beer were completely revealed to Lucien.

Countless times, I’d seen him learning a person’s entire story in the span of a glass of beer. As for things pertaining to himself, he had never revealed much.

The more mysterious this person was, the more it hooked certain people’s desire to conquer. There were always a few ill-intentioned customers who would try using alcohol to numb his consciousness, or attempt to remove that unassailable outer shell of his. But each time, they would stop.

He was naturally not self-indulgent. Even if it was with someone he’d accompanied for two drinks, he wouldn’t overdo it. The moment he entered a slightly drunken state, he would use all sorts of ingenious ways to extricate himself. With a drink in hand, he would calmly return to his seat.

During these moments, his tender features would seem to be covered with a thin layer of ice, revealing a hint of coldness.

Those eyes, which held boundless constellations, would also dim. In them, there would be unreadable emotions. It gave off the sense of a well-made robot suddenly having its electricity cut off, stopping it from interacting with the outside world entirely.

I’d tried making conversation with him during such moments, but he seemed to be even quieter when drunk. As such, he didn’t respond much.

[ Chapter Four ]

Watching him get along well with everyone, I teased him. “Professor Lucien, could there be a scientific method to making friends? Why does it seem as though you can integrate yourself with anyone?”

“As long as you have a mentality of ‘making friends’, you can easily integrate with everyone.” He maintained a gentle smile, saying somewhat cruel words.

Probably because the confusion was too obvious on my face, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “From your expression, I’m afraid you might have misunderstood what I meant.” Even before I could express my doubts, he had already guessed it.

He’s always been this way, easily understanding the inner hearts of others.

“Everyone is too used to ‘friendship’. But actually, no matter what relationships are shared between people, they’re formed with fetters. As such, if I were to use a ‘passer-by’ method of idle talk, the other party wouldn’t feel an overly heavy responsibility from me. This would create a more unrestrained atmosphere where he can open his heart freely.”

This left me speechless for a while, but I didn’t dare to agree blindly. The only thing I could say was that his way of thinking was indeed different from normal people. As such, one couldn’t use use a normal standard to gauge whether he was right or wrong.

“In that case, have you never considered being friends with anyone?”

“It depends on what the other person thinks.” He met my eyes for several seconds, with a gaze which left one unable to turn him down, once again ambiguously evading the core of the question.

Past experiences have sounded an alarm bell for me:

The more watertight a person seems, the more undisclosed secrets he has.

If they say that a woman’s heart is elusive, then that man’s heart was likely a balloon.

Expanding at will, and contracting at will.

Ever since the ladies in the bar kept talking about “Professor Lucien” this and “Professor Lucien” that, the male customers who came here to flirt with girls were enraged beyond compare. They started playing student-like tricks on Lucien.

I had always closed an eye to such small-scale antics which didn’t affect the business. One, I could treat it as a tiny interlude to hype up the place. Two, I trusted that in the end, Lucien would skilfully and easily resolve such clumsy and cheap tricks.

After one or two occurrences, Lucien didn’t lose his fans. He even relied on these “simpletons” to serve as a foil, adding another wave of favourable opinions. Finally sensing the differences between them, those guys could only leave angrily while stomping their feet in the dark, and eventually stopped showing their faces in the shop.

With a dip in such entertainment, the shop returned to its original peace and tranquility.

“Sigh. It’s so boring since no one has dared to bully you recently.”

“If someone comes next time... I’ll try my best not to scare them away.”

The way he said this dead seriously amused me. Back then, I hadn’t realised that hiding beneath that peacefulness, darkness had already started stirring.

The person who had entered first that night returned alone to the bar. We were even secretly anticipating what kind of childish game he’d be bringing this time. Unexpectedly, he was calm. Even till late at night, he was alone, drinking beer at a corner by himself.

After the alcohol went to his head, that person stumbled over red-faced, muttering to himself, “Scoun... scoundrel Lucien... get rid of your condescending look. Today, I’m going to...!”

[ Chapter Five ]

He wore a long-sleeved shirt, completely inappropriate for the day’s weather. It was only when he lunged towards Lucien that I saw a silver light flashing from his sleeve.

“Lucien! He has a knife!”

In a moment, the crowd dispersed in alarm. Lucien, who originally had his back towards the man, turned around, a hand clutching his wrist, and another hand knocking the fruit knife out of his hand.

With an unusual air of calm, he bent down to pick up the knife, handing its handle to me. “I’ll have to trouble the boss to keep the knife properly.”

The person who had the knife taken from him looked at his empty hand in a daze. Customers who had returned to their senses burst into applause at Lucien’s ability to be adaptive in handling such a situation.

The person who attempted to stir trouble fled with his tail between his legs. He even tripped when leaving through the door.

“Looks like you’ve completely scared him away this time.”

It’s as though Lucien had just settled an issue no different from the small pranks from earlier. From start to end, his face didn’t reveal any surprise.

Everyone seemed to accept that Professor Lucien was just well versed in both the pen and the sword. But I didn’t think a normal person should have such skills.

Being able to react with lightning speed in such a dim place made me deeply think that this enigmatic man had an additional colour that one couldn’t make out.

To tell you the truth, the ladies who were chasing Lucien in the dark or outwardly had grown to such a large number that I could barely count them. But he hadn’t expressed anything about it clearly.

By the request from a customer, I was appointed to take an indirect approach in delving into his love life. Beating around the bush wasn’t my style, so all I could do was send a straight ball to him amidst the ladies present. “Professor Lucien, there are so many ladies who like you in the shop, but you aren’t going to consider them at all?”

The moment the question was asked, I felt the ladies straightening up their ears to listen, holding their breaths and waiting for his response.

“I just want to ask, on behalf of the numerous ladies here, whether there’s a type you like?”

“This question has stumped me.” He pretended to look serious while considering this for a moment. In the end, he tossed out an answer which had little reference value. “’Like’ should be an emotion generated by a special individual, not characterised into a general type.”

We originally thought that was just a tactful way of saying he was devoting his entire life to science. But we didn’t expect the “special individual” to appear in just a few days.

A woman I had never seen before followed Lucien gingerly into the bar. At a glance, it was obvious that she wasn’t the type who’d usually appear in such places, so she stuck out exceptionally amongst the crowd.

I initially thought she was just another one of Lucien’s female enthusiasts, and announced his presence jokingly. He remained unmoved, continuing to chat with the person next to him who had struck a conversation with him. Yet, when the woman left the bar, he made an excuse to follow her out too.

That night, he didn’t return. Even the money for the drinks was transferred later via phone.

After that, the man named Lucien, along with that forthright lady, left from our view.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc lucien #cncancelled #kiro's r&s will probably come after I'm done with the s2 avalanche :')#really want to clear the romantic carnival stuff first so the backlog wouldn't be insane

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

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Hello lovely!! I’m a sucker for Sherlock comforting John after nightmares or just ptsd episodes, and was curious if you know of any? And/or any fics where johns old shoulder injury is bothering him and Sherlock helps :) I just need all the caring fluff ☺️

Hey Nonny!

Ahhhh!! Yes, I have quite a few Nightmares/PTSD fics, and I’m going to use this opportunity to update my past lists since I have a nice collection of more! As for the shoulder injury, I believe Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance has Sherlock doing that, but I can’t recall. I’ll start a separate list offline for Shoulder Injuries perhaps. Hmm. Actually, you might find some good Caring Sherlock fics on these lists:

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John Pt. 2

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John Pt. 3

Scars

Scars Pt. 2

Now, for the main event!! Hope you enjoy, and as always, Loves, add your own!

NIGHTMARES, PTSD, PANIC ATTACKS & MENTAL/EMOTIONAL TURMOIL Pt. 3

See also:

Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attack, & Mental / Emotional Turmoil

Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attack, & Mental / Emotional Turmoil Pt. 2

NIGHTMARES

Study in John by chappysmom (K+, 2,158 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiP, POV John, Introspection, Friendship, Nightmares, Caring Sherlock, John’s Limp) – After the events of "A Study in Pink," John lies on the couch in Baker Street and thinks about the whirlwind events of the day. What is he getting himself into?

Sleepless nights by El loopy (T, 5,467 w., 3 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares/Insomnia, Panic Attack, Worried Sherlock) – Sherlock has a nightmare and John wants to know what it was about. Set during season 1. Three-shot.

What Did I Do Wrong? by Starlight05 (T, 7,880 w. || Hurt Comfort, Angst, John Whump, Hospitalization, Worried Sherlock, Emotional Turmoil, Nightmares, Sherlock Being Dumb) - After John almost dies on a case, Sherlock disappears. So John is left to figure out what he can do to get his best friend back. Meanwhile Sherlock, guilt-ridden and willingly alone, is doing everything he can to stay away.

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

PTSD / EMOTIONAL TURMOIL

A Room of One's Own by whitchry9 (K+, 2,174 w., 5 Ch. || S2 Timeline, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Coma, John Whump, Worried Sherlock, POV John, Angst, Friendship/Bromance, Hospital) – When a severe head injury lands John in a coma, somehow he ends up in Sherlock's mind palace. It's actually pretty nice there, and John is entertaining the notion of staying there, rather than returning to his broken body. But Sherlock isn't taking it as well, and John can feel him breaking around him.

Museums and Laboratories by RhododendronPonticum (T, 3,004 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, Obsessive Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, Anxiety/Panic Attack, Separation Anxiety, Doctor John, Co-Dependent Sherlock) – If Sherlock's kitchen was his laboratory, then his bedroom was his museum.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Impossible to Feign by achray (M, 49,204 w., 12 Ch. || TRF Rewrite / Reverse Reichenbach, Suicidal Ideations / Discussions, Drug Use/Abuse, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, John Accepts his Sexuality, Anxious Sherlock, Meddling Mycroft, Depression, Hallucinations, Secret Agent John, BAMF John, Reunion, Make-Up Sex, Ambiguous Ending) – Sherlock leant forward, his long fingers curving round to grip John’s.“I won’t let him win,” he said, eyes hard. “I will do whatever it takes to get you out.”

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #ptsd fics #nightmare fics #emotional turmoil #john whump #Anonymous

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joannechocolat · 4 years ago

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Of wicked witches and jealous queens - older women in fairytales.

Recently I’ve found myself looking hard at the role of women in folklore. It’s not as if there aren’t any: our fairytales are filled with captive princesses, lovelorn mermaids, persecuted beauties. Then there’s the next generation: the jealous Queen. The wicked stepmother. The evil witch. The wise old crone. But these are never the heroines; they’re always the villains, the scapegoats, the ones with the poisoned apples. It seems that folklore and fairytale is not unlike the modern world: young women are valued by men for their looks; the older ones are mostly just jealous.

In a world of magic, as in the world around us, the one superpower older women share is that of invisibility. The young go on quests and journeys; the older ones plot against them, fatten them up to be eaten, lock them in towers, or sometimes just die on the first page, leaving the young hero or heroine conveniently orphaned, and free to begin their journey.

But where is the mother’s journey? Where are the stories of women with agency and experience? Don’t bother looking; they’re not there. The same goes for diverse love stories; unless you’re young, straight and cis, forget it. And what about all the different kinds of love outside of youthful, romantic love? What about platonic love, or love in old age, or the love of a parent for a child? Don’t go looking for those either. Romantic love is most commonly at the heart of the fairy tale, and thus is generally portrayed as the only love that matters. And once that love has been secured, the happily ever after ending is only a formality, dismissing those later decades in a single, well-worn phrase.

And yet there are so many different kinds of love - the Greeks had at least eight varieties. There’s new love; love in old age; passionate love; playful love. There’s the love one has for a friend; the love of a parent for a child. But Eros, the god of romantic love, is the one who gets by far the most press. He even managed to claim for himself the statue on the south-Western side of Piccadilly Circus, although the statue actually represents his brother, Anteros.

But it has always been thus. Eros is pushy and selfish; Anteros, self-effacing and gentle. So why does the brash and offensive twin always land the best stories? And how would a story with Anteros, not Eros, at its heart unfold?

These were the questions I had in mind when I started writing Orfeia. The original Orpheus legend is very much a story of love; but although there’s no denying the devotion of Orpheus, who travels to the Kingdom of Death to bring back his Eurydice, he is also very much an Eros guy; impulsive, passionate, brave, but also selfish and immature. I wanted my version to look at another side of love. That’s why my version of Orpheus is not a young hero, but an older heroine; and her journey is not a simple rescue mission, but an exploration of memory, motherhood, grief, fantasy, temptation - and ultimately, self-sacrifice.

How different is this story from the traditional source? In some ways, not so different. It’s still a story of love and loss; but it’s more of a song of experience than a song of innocence. And instead of giving the love story to the passionate Eros, it goes to his gentler twin Anteros, so often – like those older women – overlooked and underestimated.

Because mothers, too, have stories to tell. They too have their journey. They too are capable of courage and defiance, passionate love or dreams of romance. Age does nothing to change that. Feelings are universal, and do not lose their potency with time. The heroine of Orfeia is the mother of a young woman in her twenties. It is no accident that I am also the mother of a young woman in her twenties. The experience of motherhood is at the heart of this tale – the love, and also the fear of loss. In Orfeia, Fay loses her child to mental illness and suicide. Thus begins her story; not with the death of the parents, as so many fairy stories begin, but with the death of a daughter; and it takes her on a journey through the real world, Faërie, Dream, and finally to the land of Death, where she must fight for the one she loves, and make an almost unthinkable choice. It’s a story that tells of a battle between Eros and Anteros; between youth and experience. By reshaping it as I have, I wanted to make the original myth a more universal story. I wanted a woman at its heart, not as a trophy to be won, but as an adventurer in her own right. Most of all, I wanted to rebel against that happily-ever-after ending that writes off the stories of later life as unworthy of being told.

Tales of magic and transformation are not just for children. At the heart of the fairytale lies the belief that we can all change our lives, our situations and our world; that we can all fight monsters; find love; experience transformations. Magic in its purest form is just a metaphor for change; and in these times of trouble, we need to believe in our power to change our world; just as we need Anteros, the god of compassionate, selfless love, far more than we need Eros, his selfish twin, who flits from one love object to the next with no thought of the consequences.

Most of all, in a world run by men, we need to tell women’s stories – and not just the stories of those women whose value lies solely in their erotic appeal, or their need to be rescued. I want to tell the stories of those women who rescue themselves; who see further than a Hollywood wedding or a happily-ever-after; who want more from life than just to stay young or to feed poisoned apples to the next generation. Those are the women that interest me. Those are the unsung heroines. And because a woman who refuses to settle for the traditional role is a woman who can fight monsters; have adventures; go on quests. She is the wielder of magic; of change; and Eros is no match for her.

ORFEIA comes out on September 3rd.

Pre-order it here. https://smarturl.it/PreOrderOrfeia

#fairytales #folklore

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #461

“this city looks so pretty, do you wanna burn it with me?”

Have you ever wanted a Nikon camera? Or do you have one already? My camera before the one I have now was a Nikon D3200. I use a Canon now. Who was the last person (if anyone) you said Happy Birthday to? A friend. Do you have Photoshop? If so, how often a day do you use it? I have it, but I barely use it nowadays. I use it to edit photos for character profiles or profile pictures, add a watermark for my actual photography, and I used to make Mark-oriented gifs like crazy. They mostly did really well, so... I might wanna get back into that and get That Sweet Validation. Do you watch any shows that you know your parents wouldn’t approve of? No. Have any of your exes gotten married or had kids since your breakup? None, I think. Do either of your parents have a mental illness? My mom has depression. Can you tolerate children for a long period of time? NO. Have you ever lived with someone you felt thoroughly uncomfortable around? No. Are you into dubstep? Yeah, I tend to enjoy it. Zelda or The Sims games? Can I pick neither? lol I don't feel very much at all for The Sims, and Zelda games have always looked... boring to me? Like I've watched most of the Game Grumps' playthroughs of all the games, and they make it hilarious of course, but the games themselves? Nah. Are you terrible at assigning bands their proper genre? YES YES YES YES YES YES. Even in my preferred category, that being metal, FUCK if I know the sub-genre. Have you ever made out in a closet? No, that shit sounds claustrophobic as hell. Have you ever been to a laser tag place? Yeah, on a triple-date once! It was SO fun. How do you wanna celebrate your next birthday? Have a couple friends over, pig out at The Cheesecake Factory. o3o Do you tease your parents about them being old? No, especially not Mom. She's self-conscious about getting older. Are you in love with someone? "In love" is a bit too far, buddy. But I love someone. Have you ever ridden a unicycle? No. Have you ever wanted a pet bunny? I was VERY serious about getting a lop-eared bunny for quite a while, but we just couldn't afford to adopt one (even off Craigslist) and get a cage for it, toys, etc. Are the bottom of your feet clean? I HATE seeing the bottom of my feet. Not because they're dirty, but because it's Callus City. I ain't even fuckin jokin'. Do you like really salty food? Yeah. :x When’s the last time you bled a lot? Well, I just recently finished my cycle after not menstruating for three or four MONTHS, so you can figure that one out. Have you ever watched a needle go into your own skin? Yeah. I like to know exactly when it's coming. Have you ever seen someone get a piercing/tattoo? Yes to both. When you’re done eating finger foods, do you usually lick your fingers? Usually kasdjlf;kalsdjf shut up ok I like food. What’s the most racist thing you have ever said? As a little kid, when my really good friend (a neighborhood kid, even) asked if he thought we'd be a good couple, I told him no because "blacks and whites don't date" or something like that. It was an idea I'd never been exposed to before; the idea was so foreign to little kid me. I had no idea I was being racist. It ended in a small fight and we didn't talk for a few days 'til he came to my house telling Mom that he had to "be a man" and fix this and if that ain't the cUTEST SHIT RIGHT THERE. We were friends again after that. He's still on my Facebook, and he actually semi-recently got married! :') Do you know someone that is mute, deaf or blind? No. Have you ever spent more than two weeks in a wheelchair? No. Does weed smell good? Or no? Ugh, no. Where do you see your closest friend in ten years? Successful and happy she kept pushing. Mama to so many reptiles that are blessed with the best lives possible in human care. Got at least one amazing book out there. If she's reading this, you've fucking got this. <3 Would you like to have twins? Mother of fucking god, no. Even if I WANTED kids, do fucking not give me twins. Who was the last person you got into an argument with? My mom. Want to have kids before you’re 30? Once again, I don't want kids, but IF I did, that'd be preferable before the risk of birth defects and other issues climb with age. Does anybody have a tattoo with your name on it? My older sister has my initial. Do you think somebody’s in love with you? No. Do you think you and your best friend will be friends in ten years? Yes, I genuinely do. Who were the last people to hang out at your house? Miss Tobey, our friend and landlord. Does anyone like you? Welp... I hope he still does. Guess we'll figure that out soon. What person on your Facebook do you talk to the most? VIA Facebook? Probably my friend Lyndsey. She likes to comment on stuff I share. Do you want to fall in love? I do, but I'm also utterly horrified to and risk being hurt again. Are you interested in more than one person at the moment? No. Once I realized I was so deeply into Girt, all other romantic feelings kinda just... poofed. How was your last break up? Civil and done with both of our best interests in mind. What is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to say? Probably the first time I admitted I needed to go to the hospital for suicidal thoughts. I was so, so scared of what it was going to be like. What is the hardest thing you NEEDED to hear? That if Jason wasn't happy with me, he had every right to move on. She was right. Do you treat yourself well? No... but I'm trying to change that. What was the last song you sang out loud to? This "Set Fire to the Rain" cover. Do you take good pictures? I think I do? Have you ever done any internship? No. What’s a topic you’ve drastically changed your opinion on? Holy shit, so much, especially when it comes to morality and political stances. I am now a massive supporter and member of the LGBTQ+ community, I'm pro-trans rights, pro-choice... I've done like a dozen 180s in a lot of topics. Do you know anyone who has a PhD? I mean, some doctors, but no one in my truly personal life. Do you know anyone who works as a lawyer? Yes: my cousin. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? LAKSDJFKLA;JWD NEVER AND I PRAY TO THE HOLY LORD THAT I NEVER DO. Does the thought of having wrinkles when you’re older upset you? Not massively? Like literally everyone gets them and is natural and inevitable. Do you know anyone who’s struggling with addiction? I know one alcoholic, and one that's probably borderline. I also have two friends who are extremely addicted to weed. Look me in the eyes and say it's not an addictive substance and I wouldn't believe you one bit. Is there a video or computer game that you can get lost in for hours? Eh, sometimes World of Warcraft. Some days I'm really into it, and others I barely touch it. What’s your favorite Disney Channel movie? I have no clue. I don't even remember movies that were made *for* Disney exclusively. Do you ever have to do yard work? No. We have a friend from the dance studio mow the lawn. Do you have any live versions of songs in your music software? My iPod has a whole live album of Ozzy. Did you or do you listen to Britney Spears songs? Both did and do. Britney is a boss bitch. Does your favorite band have a male or female lead singer? Male. Have you seen the movie Moulin Rouge? No, but I've seen some of that P!nk music video of the song and it brings out the Gay in me. Do you have a key to anything besides your house? No. Could you ever complete a 500-piece puzzle? I've done that before. I miss doing puzzles... Have you ever been to any sort of convention? I went to a reptile expo with Sara!! I REALLY want to go to another when my legs are stronger and can handle standing and walking so much. Is your mom or dad the older parent? Mom. Have you ever tried to walk on a moving vehicle and fallen over? No????? What is your favourite kind of bread? Is there any of that in your house? Pumpernickel. No. Are/were you in the school band, and if so, what instrument did you play? I played the flute all through middle school and I wanna say half of HS. Have you ever ordered an unusual drink at a bar? Never even been to one. Have you ever been pulled aside by security at the airport? I think once for some reason I don't recall? What is your favourite seasonal candy? (only available at certain times) Gingerbread men, probs. Or chocolate bunnies!!! :') How do you feel right now? My stomach is KILLING me. I'm super excited though that Girt is coming over tomorrow. Have you ever had surgery that kept you in the hospital for over a day? No. What would you like your generation to change? How we treat nature. Is there anyone that you truly could not live without? No. I learned that is a very unhealthy mentality to have. Do you like carrots more if they’re raw, or cooked? I just hate carrots. What restaurant did you last go out to dinner at with friends? With friends? I couldn't even guess. Does your refrigerator have an ice maker or do you use ice cube trays? It has an ice maker. Do you have a favorite sibling, if any? No; I love them all. Do you have a favorite brand of clothing? I STAN CLOAK. How’s the love life? Something new might start tomorrow. I think it will. Do you watch the news? No; that shit is depressing. Who do you admire most? Mark. Do you have a favorite album? Black Rain by Ozzy Osbourne takes the cake and always will.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''city'' by hollywood undead

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pa-panda-heroes · 4 years ago

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The “Two” of Us ; Bakugou x Reader Songfic

An anoni requested this a while back, and now here we are ^v^ I was really nervous about it, but @queensynderella was so kind as to beta read this for me! Many, many thanks to you, Allie! Sincerely! I literally wouldn’t have posted it otherwise because I was so nervous OTL

Warning: Slight language (Kacchan swears like twice), kinda sorta sad/angsty but kinda sorta fluffy!

Song: “Two” by Sleeping at Last

Edit because i’m a silly bean and forgot word count: 1,671 words

Sweetheart, you look a little tired

You could faintly hear the sound of rain pattering against your windows, flicking through the channels on TV and trying to find something to watch. Even shows you’d normally enjoy weren’t appealing. You’d pick up your phone and try to find entertainment on it if it weren’t for the articles strewn everywhere about Bakugou Katsuki, the pro hero with an infamous temper and a volatile quirk. You knew him as something entirely different. Someone you could go to for a good cry, or someone who could cheer you up by just being around. He was also someone who had his own feelings, too. It wasn’t uncommon, as a hero, for him to feel down and unappreciated for the things he does, the things he sacrifices for the public.

Lighting struck and thunder soon followed, and while the sudden boom gave your heart and body a fright, it was probably the twelfth time you’d heard it in the past hour. Needless to say, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about it. Although, you did hope not to lose power.

A knock at your door nearly made you jump out of your skin, though, and you jumped up to go answer it. The knock had been loud but... weak somehow.

When did you last eat? Come in and call yourself right at home Stay as long as you need

You looked through the peephole and instantly your fingers were fumbling with the locks and doorknob to let the unexpected visitor in, your brows furrowing out of concern all the while. As soon as the door is open, he lets himself in without a word.

Tell me, is something wrong? If something’s wrong, you can count on me You know I’ll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat

“Katsuki, are you alright?” you ask, watching him kick off his shoes. He pauses at your question for probably a second or two, then shrugs.

“I’ll be fine. Long day at work, ya know?”

It’s okay if you can’t find the words Let me take your coat And this weight on your shoulders

He begins to shrug off his coat, but you jump in and help him, taking it and hanging it on the rack as he makes his way to your living area. You knew damn good and well that “I’ll be fine” meant “I’m not fine right now, but I don’t want to worry you because I just want it to pass.” It was better than when he would cover and say he’s fine, which was initially a bad habit you lectured him on who knows how many times. You eventually got him to be more honest up front. You wanted to help him, give him everything, but he wouldn’t let you.

You follow him to the couch and sit next to his left as he picks up your new habit of flicking through channels mindlessly. You sit close to him and wrap your arm around his while resting your cheek on his shoulder, but he doesn’t react.

Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you with every single thing I have

You considered pushing him into the shower while you ran a hot bath for him, or possibly getting food for him to eat, be it home cooked or take-out. But you knew he wouldn’t be quick to accept being coddled or spoiled.

Like a tidal wave, I’ll make a mess Or calm waters, if that serves you best I will love you without any strings attached

He stopped at a news channel - at least it looked like one, until you read the phrase “Bakugou Katsuki. Pro Hero name: Ground Zero. Ill-Tempered Hero, or Soon-To-Be-Villain?” A lump developed in your throat and you felt him tense before the TV screen went black.

“They did this shit in high school, and they just don’t wanna let it go. Assholes!” he hissed, setting the remote down on the coffee table roughly. “So what if I yell sometimes? Yeah, I get mad. Who doesn’t!”

Ah, that must be it. Articles, headlines, and gossip like that had suddenly began circulating recently, but despite that you hoped he’d ignore it or wouldn’t happen to see. Apparently he has.

“What they say doesn’t matter,” you say, not matching his volume yet voice remaining firm, “You know why? They’re only looking for a good headline and online attention. It’s all money, no matter who they have to degrade.”

It’s okay if you can’t catch your breath You can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest.

Katsuki finally looked at you, and you sat upright to give him a gentle grin. It had crossed his mind countless times whether or not they’d brought you into their little mess, or if they had harassed you with interview requests. He knew undoubtedly that it bothered you, too, being his lover. You were right - what they said didn’t matter much - albeit it was extremely frustrating - but that did. Katsuki knew by your texts throughout the day that something was off-centre about you.

I know exactly how the rule goes Put my mask on first No, I don’t want to talk about myself

But you’d put his feelings first. You were always griping at him about his feelings, yet you put yours on the back burner for him.

Tell me where it hurts I just want to build you up, build you up ‘Til you’re good as new One day I will get around to fixing myself, too

The pro hero before you leaned in to give a tiny, almost shy kiss to your forehead before resting his hand on the back of your neck to pull you in further. His chin rested atop your head, his hand remaining on your nape still. “Hey, tell me. And be honest. It bothers you, doesn’t it?” he queried hoarsely. ‘Tell me where it hurts,’ he thought.

“I’d be lying if I said no, obviously.” You fumbled with your thumbs, trying to find the right words, while he leaned back to look you in the eyes. “It bothers me that they paint you as a demonic hero or villain in-the-making, because I know you’re neither of those things. But at the same time, it doesn’t bother me because I know you’re not like that. Does that make sense? I don’t think it-“

He interrupted you with an uncharacteristically sweet and calm kiss, albeit a short one, and then pulled back with a minuscule appreciative grin. “I get it, idiot.”

“Okay, I wasn’t done!” you protest, wriggling your nose. “It doesn’t bother me that much because I also know that you’re constantly putting yourself at risk and endangering your life. And for civilians who are sometimes quicker to be afraid of you than they are to thank you, at that.”

Katsuki’s face drops and he’s quick to look away, but you run your fingers through his spiky hair anyway as he lets you go on.

“I know heroes get a lot of publicity and fan clubs, but they don’t seem to care about the hero’s mental and physical well-being very often,” you continue. “Not many take the hero’s feelings into consideration, which is why articles and whatnot trashing them are frustrating.”

The look on his face hasn’t changed from downtrodden much, and for a second you think you’re making him feel worse. Because he knows you’re right. Being a hero can be thankless work sometimes.

I don’t even know where to start Already tired of trying to recall when it all fell apart I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well I just want to learn how, somehow, to be loved myself

“I’m telling you this because I do,” you say, your voice almost a whisper and breathy. “I know you better than anyone, and I know you’re human just like the rest of us, with human emotions. I know you didn’t become a hero just to get praise and attention.”

He finally looks back at you, and you smile wide, letting the gesture and the fond look in your eyes emphasize what you’ll say next. But you won’t say anything before your hand is dotingly caressing his cheek, your thumb grazing his cheekbone. “I know you’ll do whatever you can to save someone, and above all that, I know I love you so much.”

It’s almost as if your mere words blew the weight off his shoulders when they sink and his posture relaxes. “Thank you,” seems to be all he can bring himself to say.

Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you without any strings attached And what a privilege it is to love A great honor to hold you up

Katsuki shakes his head, clearly not at you, and shows you a soft, almost barely there smile. “I love you...

“Idiot.”

“Hey!” You slap his arm at the “insult,” and he chuckles at the contact.

Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss

The two of you just sat there, listening to the rain and thunder and ignoring the bright flashes of light coming through the window. All that exists in the world, in this moment, is you and Katsuki. The two of you as one.

I will love you with every single thing I have Like a tidal wave, I’ll make a mess

Katsuki brings you close to his chest, a slight warmth emanating off his body.

Or calm waters, if that serves you best I will love you without any strings attached

You accept and reciprocate the embrace without hesitation, sighing into his shirt.

“I’m always gonna love you, no matter what. Got that, Kacchan?”

I will love you without any strings attached

“I do, as long as you know that I’m always gonna love you, y/n.”

#mha #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #fic #songfic #angst #comfort / fluff #little bit o this little bit o that...

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jenwhitner · 4 years ago

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( ADELINE RUDOLPH. SHE/HER. CIS WOMAN ) Did I just see ( JENNIFER WHITNER )? This ( TWENTY SEVEN ) year old ( VETERINARIAN ) has been living in Chicago for ( EIGHTEEN YEARS ). Some say that they are ( TENACIOUS & COMPASSIONATE ) as well as ( VOLATILE & INSECURE ). If they had a theme song, some might say that it would be ( ALL THE TIME by MOOSE BLOOD ). All I know is that I can’t wait to see what they bring to the Windy City.

hellooooo, it’s lauren, back with my second character. this is jennifer! she’s one of rowan’s older adopted siblings, and she’s one of those people that acts super tough and a little distant at first, but she’s a sweetheart really, i promise. @hocstarters

‏‏‎ ‎

INFO:

full name: Jennifer Ahn Whitner

birth name: Ahn Ji-hyun

nickname(s): Jenny, Jen

birthplace: Daegu, South Korea

birthday: 25th June 1993

age: 27

zodiac sign: Cancer

gender & pronouns: cis woman, she/her

sexuality: Heterosexual

physical: 5′6, brown hair, brown eyes

occupation: Veterinarian

‏‏‎ ‎

PAST:

( tw: death; car accident; child neglect; bullying; mental illness )

1993, Daegu, South Korea. Ahn Ji-hyun was born to a newly-married couple, who cared for her well and loved her dearly. Her early childhood was great, and she had plenty of friends. She showed a love for animals and nature early on, and developed a habit of picking up and bringing home any injured animals she found, wanting to help them. She also loved literature and art, spending hours covered in paint or listening to her mother tell her stories.

But, tragedy struck when Ji-hyun was 5 years old, and the family were involved in a car accident when returning to their home after a meal out. All the members of the family were rushed into hospital. Unfortunately both of Ji-hyun's parents eventually succumbed to their injuries, but, Ji-hyun managed to pull through. She spent a few weeks in the hospital recovering from her minor injuries. Somehow she had managed to walk away with only cuts and bruises, a concussion and a few broken bones. The couple had no other family that were able to take care of the now orphaned young girl, and she was taken to a foster home. The memories of the accident haunted her, and she had night terrors regularly, waking up in a cold sweat and gasping for air. It caused her to withdraw, and she became quiet and reserved. She was placed into therapy to try and help her deal with the loss of her parents, and eventually she began to show signs of improvement. Art was one of the things that helped her to express her grief and loneliness, and she continued to improve her painting skills over the years as she used it as her main emotional outlet.

When Ji-hyun turned 7, she was adopted by an American couple. Knowing absolutely no English, Ji-hyun was terrified of leaving Daegu and her friends behind to go to a completely new country. She begged the adults in the foster home to not make her go, but they promised that she would be safe and have a happy life, and would have more opportunities in America then she would have in her home country. So, reluctantly, she moved to Rockford, Illinois with her new family. Her name was legally changed to Katie, but she continued to refer to herself by her Korean name.

But, things didn't turn out the way that Ji-hyun had been told they would. She was enrolled in school, but the language barrier proved to be too much. Despite having special tutoring in English, Ji-hyun couldn't seem to learn fast enough for her new parents liking, and they were disappointed in her. Thus began the neglect. Because they couldn't communicate properly, her parents began to ignore Ji-hyun out of frustration, adopting another child and spending all their time and affection on their new son. Her teachers soon began to notice that Ji hyun was turning up to school dirty and hungry, and called social services who then got involved. By the time she turned 8 years old, Ji-hyun was back in foster care, this time in Chicago.

The experience left his distrustful of other people, and she kept herself very guarded, not speaking to anybody about personal matters and never showing signs of any emotion unless she was safely locked away in a room by herself. Her faith in humanity was gone, and left her bitter and cold towards the world even at such a young age.

A year passed, and Ji-hyun settled back into the routine of a foster home, until one day a new couple came along. A few weeks after meeting them, the news came that the Whitner's were going to adopt Ji-hyun. Yet again, she was scared and dubious. In her head, before even going to the family, she was expecting it not to last long, so she was stand-offish with the couple and with their other adopted children, not wanting to form any connections out of fear that they would end up being severed in a short time.

It wasn’t until a few months into this new chapter that Ji-hyun finally realised that she was now in a safe and loving home, with people that cared about her and wanted her to have a good and happy life. The realisation came from such a small gesture on the Whitner’s part, but a huge one for her. They asked her what she wanted to be called. So, not wanting to completely lose touch with her birth name that had become her only sense of identity over the years, and the only connection she had to her biological parents, she chose the name Jennifer. Her parents agreed to her keeping her surname, using it instead as a middle name. Thus, Jennifer Ahn Whitner became her legal name.

Despite knowing that she was finally in a safe space, that didn't change the struggles that Jennifer dealt with during school. The Whitner's did their best to help her learn English, but the kids at school picked on her because she was different and because she couldn't communicate with them properly.

Nevertheless, Jennifer was very intelligent and excelled in all other areas of her education, and eventually she became good enough at English that she could hold a full conversation, thanks to her parent's consistent tutoring and support, and the help of her adopted siblings. Once she got to high school, language was no longer an issue, but her accent was still prevalent. Kids were cruel, and the bullying continued. This drove her to develop depression and anxiety, and she became withdrawn and quiet. Throughout her dark times, she carried on painting, finding solace in art. Yet again, she began therapy and threw herself into her studies, deciding that she wanted to become a veterinarian. She went off to college, and here she flourished. As she grew older, she became more confident in herself and her abilities, and finally started to develop a bit of a social life again. But, she still kept herself guarded, a defence mechanism that she just couldn't bring herself to let go of. It was hard for her to make friends because of it, but those who persevered and finally broke through her tough exterior are still close friends of hers to this day.

‏‏‎ ‎

PRESENT:

Recently graduated from veterinary college, Jennifer lives in her own apartment and works at a local animal clinic. She still keeps in contact with her foster parents, visiting them regularly and also maintaining strong relationships with her foster siblings.

She has continued on with her art, but only ever as a hobby. Her friends continue to push her to try and pursue it as a full-time career but she loves her job working with animals, and doesn't want to give that up. Despite that, she does commissioned work for people on the side, but because her job is so demanding already it's a rather rare occurrence.

‏‏‎ ‎

PERSONALITY:

At first, Jennifer can come across as rude and uninterested, but this is just her way of avoiding letting people get too close. It will take time to break down that tough, uncaring exterior she puts on, but once it's done, her true personality will come through. She can be volatile and insecure at times. She struggles to trust people and let them in, and rarely talks about her biological parents or her first foster family. The memories still haunt her from time to time, but she does her best to focus on the positives.

She returns to Daegu to visit her family as often as she can, and still speaks in her native tongue often, finally being proud of her Korean heritage and wanting to celebrate it rather than hide it to save herself from other people's judgement.

Her temper can change quickly when she feels vulnerable or threatened, and can be quite harsh when she's in a bad mood. She bears grudges for a long time, and if anybody upsets her she won't ever forget about it. She may forgive, but the relationship will never be the same again. At times she is also overly-sensitive, and small comments made can stick with her for a long time and cause quite a big impact on her, and leave her questioning her worth and abilities.

But, Jennifer is very compassionate. As seen from an early age, she has a very nurturing personality, and will look after anyone and anything that needs help. This quality is what makes her so good at her job - her caring nature and love for animals combined makes her a brilliant veterinarian.

With strangers, she can struggle to initiate conversations and it takes time to gain her trust, but once it’s done and she lets people see the real her, they will have a loyal friend and someone to lean on and be loved dearly by.

She is also incredibly tenacious, and once she puts her mind to something she will see it through no matter how difficult it may be at times.

Reassurance and small gestures of affection are her love language, both for herself and for others, so she will go out of her way to remind the people in her life how loved and important they really are.

‏‏‎ ‎

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

closest friend(s) - these will be the people she’s most comfortable around and can be completely herself with. they probably know a little bit about her past, but not the whole story

colleagues - fellow veterinarians, or other staff at the clinic

neighbours - she has her own apartment, so there’s a few options for neighbour type connections

ex-boyfriend - will have been during college years, can have ended on good or bad terms, could even still be feelings there if we wanna get real angsty with it

past hook-ups - again, probably during college years, can be awkward or not, i don’t mind

enemies - people that she doesn’t like or don’t like her, or someone from her past that did something to really upset her and she’s holding a grudge still

#hocintros

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recurring-polynya · 4 years ago

Note

Love your writing! Renruki prompt: Married!RenRuki get into a fight and Renji's acting all gloomy when he goes to work the next day. He accidentally~ shares his woes with Byakuya.

Ahhh, I am not good at writing fights!! I think I am on the record as to saying that I think Renji and Rukia only fight over stupid shit, and I had a heck of a time figuring out something for them to fight over. Anyway, I did my best, at very least, this contains a lot of Byakuya Being Byakuya.

💔 💔 💔

“I think it’s in here, sir,” Third Seat Yuki explained, leading Byakuya into the Officer’s Lounge. “On second thought, you wait out here, I’ll bring it.”

Sixth Seat Taniguchi was sprawled on the floor, groaning. Rikichi stepped over him, and looked around. Fifth Seat Kuchiki had his leg propped up on a table, a bag of ice on his knee. Seventh Seat Shirogane and Fourth Seat Kuchiki were leaning against each other on the couch, snoring in unison. Rikichi picked his way toward the couch and poked Shirogane in the arm. “Hey! Hey, Shirogane! What happened to the training reports on the first-years?”

“Eh?” Shirogane asked, sitting up. “Training reports, right.” She shoved Kuchiki to one side, and extracted a thick binder, bristling with colored tabs from the depths of the couch. It was barely in Yuki’s hand before she was slumped against Kuchiki again.

“Found it!” Rikichi announced cheerfully, waving the binder and picking his way carefully back out.

“What… happened?” Byakuya asked gingerly. “It is not usually like this, is it?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Rikichi replied. “There was sparring after morning drills.”

“Everyone must have had an excess of enthusiasm, to have worn each other out so,” Byakuya observed. He was a bit sorry to have missed it. A spirited affray sounded much more entertaining than the interminable breakfast meeting with Lord Noragashi he had endured.

“Er, not exactly,” Rikichi excused, rubbing the back of his neck. “When I said ‘sparring’, what I meant was, ‘Vice-Captain made everyone fight him.’ He was in a bit of a mood this morning.”

“I... see,” Byakuya drew out. It had been quite some time since Abarai had felt the need to pummel his way through the top ranks. Byakuya had hoped it was a sign that the top officers were improving, but apparently, it had just been the recent improvement in his lieutenant’s disposition. Disappointing. “Any indication as to what precipitated this sudden bout of pugnacity?”

Rikichi paused and glanced around. “I think he might have had a tiff with the missus,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Byakuya arched an eyebrow.

💔 💔 💔

Byakuya pretended to be deeply engaged by the newest edition of the Standards for Disposition of Historically Significant Hauntings while taking occasionally surreptitious glances at his adjutant. He needn’t have bothered with the covertness, Abarai was clearly too tightly wrapped up in his own misery to have any sort of situational awareness.

The thunderstorm of ire that had possessed the man earlier had passed, leaving behind a drizzle of gloomy resignation. Abarai had dragged his brush half-heartedly across his paperwork for a while, but now all he could manage was to stare out the window listlessly.

Byakuya was not a nosy man and clearly, this was none of his business. In fact, he ought to chide his subordinate for this childlike behavior. However, Byakuya hesitated. This could very well be pertinent to his sister’s happiness. Now that Rukia no longer resided with him, how was he to know her daily mood, her overall humor? If there had been a row, surely Abarai was the one at fault. It was practically Byakuya’s duty as a brother to discern what had passed between them.

“Lieutenant,” he said sternly.

Renji seemed to come to himself suddenly, and straightened in his seat. “Yessir!”

“You seem out of sorts this morning.”

Abarai swallowed. “Sorry, sir! I don’t… I’ll do better, sir!”

Byakuya folded his hands. “Obviously, I expect only the strictest of professionalism from you, as always, Lieutenant, but you know that I care for your well-being. We are family now. If you have a problem you wish to talk through, you know that I am an excellent listener.”

Abarai’s face was overcome with what was obviously great emotion at this generosity. “Er… it’s nothing, sir. Really.” He grabbed his brush and began writing with great vigor.

Curses. That hadn’t worked at all. “Rukia is in good health, I trust? All is proceeding accordingly?” Perhaps there had been a disagreement regarding their pending offspring. Perhaps Abarai had suggested a ridiculous given name, which Rukia, in her wisdom, had rejected.

Abarai’s eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, yeah. Same as, uh, yesterday, when you asked.”

“You seemed distressed. I wondered if perhaps she had fallen ill.”

“Oh, no, nothin’ like that. She’s actually been feelin’ a little better lately.” He fiddled with his brush and looked back down at his paperwork for a moment. “Look, sir, can I ask your opinion on something?”

“Of course,” Byakuya replied, carefully keeping his face in its usual, disinterested mien, despite the fact that he was, in fact, very interested.

Abarai nodded slowly. “Okay, so, imagine there’s two people, see, a boy and a girl, kids like.”

“I can imagine it.”

“And they grow up together and they fall in love, right? But it’s hard for them to tell each other that, because they’ve been friends a long time. And they drift apart, it’s not looking good for either of them, but then the boy writes the girl a poem. It’s not a very good poem, it’s about how tall he’s gotten, not a great call on his part, but the girl goes for it, and she writes this lucky bastard a poem back.”

Byakuya nodded slowly. As usual, Abarai’s storytelling was circuitous and only dubiously coherent. Byakuya was familiar with the basics of Rukia and Renji’s courtship, although he hadn’t known poetry had played such a key role. He found that rather charming, actually.

“It works out,” Abarai continued on, “and they get married. Now, this woman is basically perfect. She’s beautiful, loyal, loving, the whole package. On the other hand, the guy is a real piece of work. He clearly does not deserve her.”

“I am following,” Byakuya nodded.

“So he’s a huge jerk, he doesn’t know what he’s got, and he cheats on her.”

Wait, what? “Excuse me?” Byakuya echoed.

“It doesn’t make any sense, but that’s what you get for marrying a guy who writes you a poem, I guess. He’s such a scumbag, in fact, that he thinks she’s cheating on him, too, just because she never calls him on this really obvious affair, and that’s how the slimeball mind works, I ‘spose.”

Byakuya tried to perform some mental math. Abarai had only been married to his sister for five months. How had he possibly had time to accomplish all this? Byakuya was beginning to think this was not actually an autobiographical story, in which case why was he telling it?

Abarai was waving his hands around enthusiastically at this point. “So he spies on her, trying to catch him in the act, and get this-- all he catches her doing is writing a poem about how she hopes he’s staying safe while gallivanting around with this other lady! I just bet he felt bad!”

All of this was beginning to sound vaguely familiar. Byakuya squeezed his eyes shut, trying to place this story in its proper context.

“Now, don’t get me wrong, this guy is a sleaze. I am not defending this guy in any way. But it’s not really about him, see? It’s about the lady, and the purity of her love for him--”

Byakuya gripped his head. “Abarai, this is just the plot of Izutsu, isn’t it? The noh play?”

“Oh, you’ve seen it?” Abarai asked. “We went on Wednesday, and I thought we both enjoyed it, but then yesterday, Rukia asked my opinion on it, and I gave it to her, and, uh, a big fight happened.”

“Of course I have seen it, it is one of the classical noh dramas! And Ariwara no Narihira is one of the Six Poetic Genius, he is not ‘a sleaze.’” Byakuya paused. “Rukia had strong opinions on it?”

“The strongest of opinions. She said the lady was dumb for pining over a shi-- poet, and that someone should have konsoued her in the first act. And I think she just really missed the point, I mean, it’s noh, it’s not like anyone’s here for a good time, how are you supposed to have any heartfelt songs about suffering in love if you ain’t got any suffering, am I right?”

Although one would never be able to tell from his facial expression, Byakuya found this entire shaggy dog story interesting on a number of levels. For one, every time he had ever taken Rukia to noh and asked her opinion of it, she had replied that the costumes had been very beautiful or that the dancers had been very skilled. She had never once expressed an opinion on the content. Reason number two was that Hisana had very strong opinions on the content of noh dramas. In fact, Hisana used to refer to Izutsu as the ‘Never Trust a Poet’ play. Byakuya very distinctly remembered her opining that “the husband was bad and he should feel bad; he should be the one who has to come back and haunt the damn well.” Byakuya eventually came to realize that Hisana’s complaints were primarily a ruse for the purpose of getting him riled up, and that the best way of short-circuiting them was merely to start kissing her and then to get riled up in a different way. He would give up his sword before he shared that piece of information with Abarai. The third interesting piece of information, though…

“I would not have expected you to take theater criticism so personally, Lieutenant,” Byakuya observed mildly.

Renji opened his mouth and then closed it again. “It’s just a dumb play,” he muttered.

Byakuya minutely adjusted the position of a paper on his desk. “Art is a reflection of our strongest emotions and a chance to explore the boundaries of concepts like love and forgiveness. It can be quite disconcerting to find yourself on the opposite side of a philosophical divide from the one person in your life whose opinions on romantic love are actually pertinent to you.”

“I just don’t understand why she’s mad at me!” Abarai lamented, throwing up his hands. “I liked the play, she’s one who said it was dumb. I don’t see how you can get mad at someone for liking a thing.”

Byakuya sighed, and reminded himself for the millionth time that Abarai had spent his formative years literally headbutting the humanoid mountain goats of the Eleventh instead of metaphorically headbutting an equally stubborn classical literature tutor. “Clearly, you find ongoing devotion in the face of obstacles to be an admirable quality, and were moved by the wife’s pining, which is, broadly speaking, the main theme of the play. However, consider the perspective of the one who is pined after, presented in this piece as a flawed idol, a cause of agony and suffering so severe that it persists past the confines of mortal existence.”

“Oh,” replied Abarai. There was a long pause. “Oh.” His face transitioned through a number of contortions, but not further words came forth.

Byakuya picked up the Standards for Disposition of Historically Significant Hauntings again, and pretended to flip through it. “Do you need to take an early lunch break today, Lieutenant?”

“Um, ah…” Abarai looked at his calendar. “I got Advanced Hakuda Skills with the upper seats at 11.”

“I don’t think they’re up for it today,” Byakuya noted dryly. “Go ahead.”

Abarai scrammed.

#my writing #this is the last of the OLD old drabble prompts!!!#i still have two medium old ones to go #but i am hereby declaring renji's birthday CLEARED #this is VERY REALISTIC #by which i mean it is slightly autobiographical #except in my case it was over a kdrama #jeez i did SIGNIFICANT RESEARCH for this #these drabbles are supposed to be LOW EFFORT #but I have NO CHILL #i have never actually seen izutsu #noh stans please do not get up in my mentions #i mean i am sure i deserve it #but please i am so small and tired #also 'never trust a poet' is from a very old youtube video where bjork explains how computers work #i think about that video at least once a week

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belladonnasatenaeum · 3 years ago

Text

'Dernière Danse': The Underlying Message

There's a French song you likely might have heard on TikTok, used more often than not in Gothic TikToks or even some Academia TikToks. One TikTok I recall seeing it in was a vampire aesthetic based TikTok, with someone lipsyncing to the chorus of the song. Sometimes, you find out later what the song is actually called, and my goodness, the quick 15 second videos on TikTok do not do any justice to the song. The song is called 'Dernière Danse' by the singer Indila, the title roughly translating to 'Last/Final Dance'.

When you first listen to the song, you would naturally think of balls within a dark manor, candles flickering and lighting the space within its warm amber glow. The unique element of orchestra and pop elements creates a song quite like nothing you've ever heard, and something I've yet to hear other musicians do. However, if you think this is a song of love, you would be sorely mistaken.

You see, Indila isn't just some pasty white woman. Sure, she is kinda pale, but that doesn't take away from her heritage. You see, she has ancestory from Algeria, India, Egypt and Cambodia - so much so that she calls herself "a child of the world." And it seems, 'Dernière Danse' does have a lot of emotion to it, but not of a romantic kind. It is one of deep, immense pain and sorrow. The song tells the story of a young immigrant woman who must endure racism throughout the day as she desperately wishes to escape the torment and comfort herself from the harsh judgement of the people around her.

There is some incredibly interesting wordplay in the lyrics for the song, one only those who speak French can spot and breakdown for those who can't. But once they have, it forever sticks out in your mind. If you want to understand what is being sung, then please follow this link here: https://www.frenchlyricstranslations.com/derniere-danse-lyrics-translation-indila/

The word play comes in the line "Ô ma douce souffrance" (Translation: "Oh my sweet suffering"). This is our indication of what is causing this young woman her pain and misery. It's right in front of you, and yet it takes a keen eye to spot it. This wordplay actually indicates that France itself is the cause of this woman's pain. And let's be real for a second, France is just as guilty as Britain, Spain, Germany and The Netherlands when it comes to colonialism, and thus the rampant spread of racism and all other horrific things that come with colonial rule. And after the terrorist attacks in 2015, 2 years after the release of "Dernière Danse", racism has been sadly seeding it's way into French way of life such as with France's ban on face coverings which could impact specific cultures and religions such as Muslims, which, more often than not, many immigrants making their way to France are. While the bill does try to bring about good - by essentially making it illegal to FORCE someone to wear a face covering veil if they don't want to (especially in the case of children, where I personally believe that religion should be kept away from children until they are old enough to understand it), it could also become a slippery slope to what a certain President Orange-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named attempted in the US, and in some degrees succeeded.

Which leads me to think, while it is a brilliant song and many can relate to it with its feelings of sorrow, how do I feel about seeing white people - like myself - lipsyncing to it? I've not heard any complaints, and as I mentioned, the song is very relatable, and it can be applied to things outwith racism - grief, loss, bereavement, breakups, stress, mental illness and so on, but is it really a song for white people to cling to? The song contextually is about an immigrant, so how come most of the TikToks I've seen with this song are everyone but immigrants and BIPOC people? The ones I've seen get shared on YouTube in compilation videos usually are skinny, white women/AFAB people. When BIPOC creators have made TikToks with this song. In fact, here's a TikTok made by a Black creator also following a vampire theme: https://www.tiktok.com/@tatendaluna/video/6939523674877758722?lang=en&is_copy_url=1&is_from_webapp=v1

And yet it seems, as I am scrolling through TikTok, the vast majority of the videos are by white people. Sure, white people emigrate, but we will never truly understand the pain of the immigrant who arrived in France to hatred and disgust, getting abused day in and day out. Now, there could be a logical explanation; maybe more white people just happen to know about the song? Given when I first heard it, I only had the melody to go off of, and Googling "da da da da da-da da da da" isn't going to get me anywhere. But even having that as a factor, there is a known history of TikTok promoting more white people's TikToks over the creations and hard work of BIPOC people.

So, do I think white people should lipsync to the song? I mean, if it's all in harmless fun, then sure. It's a song - we all love to sing and lipsync, it's not gonna harm anyone, even if you sing like a cat just got scared down a dark alleyway. However, I think it is also incredibly important that we understand and recognise the context of the song - it's not a song for vampire lovers to sing, it's not a song for witches to sing during a ritual, it's not even an Academia or aesthetic song; the song is a harsh reality for many immigrants fleeing war and persecution, and wherever they land they are immediately slammed with hatred.

'Dernière Danse' is one of my favourite songs to listen to. It is a beautiful blend of orchestra and pop that never get tiring, and for the people who do like vampires and witches and academia I can see why this song would stick out. For crying out loud, I'm one to talk - I'm a Goth Pagan from Scotland! And with this 'essay', I do not wish to shame people from creating TikToks with this song. On the contrary, actually. This song is brilliant and as an artist myself, the amount of ideas this song brings to me is wondrous. However, I think it is high time that people understand that 'Dernière Danse' is, and will forever be, a song for the immigrants. It is their song to express frustration and pain; and I implore you to look out for your immigrant neighbours. Recently, the city of Glasgow stopped the deportation of some Indian men, which when I caught wind of it made me incredibly proud to be a Scot. Sadly, though, the fight is far from done. It is our duty to fight for those seeking security and safety. If I recall correctly, that's exactly what Odin asks us to do in Stanzas 2-4 of the Havamal, correct? To be hospitable to those who come to our doorstep. Now, I may question Odin's logic from time to time, but on this I think his words are sound wisdom. If even the All-Father tells you to be hospitable to immigrants, then you best take his advice.

At the very least, I hope that either you got the chance to discover this song, or you found a new way to view the song, from my little 'essay'. As mentioned, I do not intend to shame anyone who likes the song. Indila is a brilliant artist and I heavily enjoy her works. I merely hope this highlights the underlying message that I think often gets overlooked. I hope you found some enjoyment in this. If I am incorrect about anything, please do feel free to correct me. I am always open to learning. Until next times, yours

~ Belladonna

#dark academia #derniere danse

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confusion-core · 4 years ago

Text

Story

Despite the title, this isn't a fictional story. This is a true account of my experience with self harm, because I've heard it can be therapeutic to write about it, plus I want somebody to hear this story, especially if it'll mean somebody else will be discouraged from doing it in the future. Trigger warning for references to mental illness, self harm, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, maybe ED. If you don't wish to read about any of those things, please don't read this. If you know me in real life, please don't read this and just pretend you didn't see it, especially if you're a close friend, because I don't want anybody close to me knowing about these things. Also if anybody tries to reblog this with a joke or make light of it, they will immediately be blocked.

I'm gonna start from when I was very young, so that you have full context, and work my way up from there, because every part of this is important to understand the whole story.

3 years old - I hadn't yet said my first words (I was non verbal until I was 7) but I taken my first steps. This would be a cause for celebration, but honestly I wasn't really in the mood for celebrating. This next bit's kind of shaky because a lot of it is from 2nd hand accounts and I have trouble remembering from around this time, except for the days where I start remembering every detail of it. My mother was just starting to get the full effects of her thyroid problem, but she hadn't yet been diagnosed with it because she didn't trust the doctors apparently. Another thing she didn't trust was me and my one year older brother, and she thought we were out to get her. She'd spend hours alone in the living room crying and hiding from us, one of the few scenes I can regularly remember because I had/have a lot of dreams about how my dad would stand in front of the door, trying to convince us to not go in when all we wanted was to help her. I don't hold this against her, because she wasn't in her right mind at the time, but I do hold it against my father that he didn't send us to stay with somebody else for fear of somebody calling child protection services.

9 years old - My mother told me that I might have a thyroid problem like she and my uncle did, and I couldn't stop thinking about it because I knew that the one reason I didn't resent her was because she had no way of telling in that time with limited information, so if I didn't do my best to figure it out then I'd be doing the same to my kids, but I wouldn't have any excuses. I'd be letting them down, and that idea hurt me on a much deeper level than having been on the receiving end myself.

12 years old - My mother had forgotten about taking me to a doctor over time, and I never brought it up because I knew it'd lead to a conversation with her about how it affected me and I really didn't want to have that talk. Not then, not now, not ever. It's not that I thought she would be offended, but I knew it would break her heart to hear it from her own son. And so, at this point, I couldn't stop spiraling thinking about it, and every time I thought about it I'd get little flashes in my mind's eye of what I was there for, it lead to me laying in bed just shaking thinking of doing that to my children while knowing I could've done something about it and neglected to. One night, I just broke. I wanted to break something but I didn't have anything on hand, so I just picked up something sharp, maybe it was a razer I think, it might have just been a regular blade, and slashed it at my wrist. The first time didn't cut too deep, but after a moment I realised that the pain made everything else seem just a little less high-stakes. I did it again, and again, and again, the whole time still shaking and crying until I was a bloody, snotty mess. I did the same again the next day and the next after that etcetera for the next month or so, but everyday I'd cut just a little deeper. It did make me feel better, temporarily, but the cuts hurt like a bitch, I'd be whimpering from somebody laying their hand on my arm.

13 years old - A year later, I'd almost completely stopped when it came the time of year when I did it the first time, and I started feeling anxious and shaky all over again, and again I did it. At this point, I started feeling sick to my stomach at the thought of food, throwing up and starving myself for days at a time, and other times I wouldn't be able to stop eating. My mother found the scars, I told her it was a one time thing.

... then I did it again, the next year, and the year after that, and the year after that, and the year after that.

Around the 3 year milestone it stopped bringing me that sense of clarity, and just made me feel empty. Pain in general started making me itch for more, I'd fall over and suddenly all I'd want would be to bang my head one more time. I still feel that, and I recently found out that that's because you can become chemically addicted to pain, and I did. It was miserable, I started wishing that it would end. Last year, it almost did when I had my mouth full to bursting with painkillers, ready to swallow when when my mother's dog came into the kitchen. I panicked and spat them into the sink, and sat on the floor and cried. My dog comforted me, usually he's happy and energetic but he has amazing empathy and is seriously good at reading the room when it matters. People keep asking me why he suddenly became my favourite thing in the world overnight, and I just tell them he's cuter but in reality it's because I literally owe him my life. I would actually be dead if it weren't for him, and I love him for that, and the fact that he knew just how to help.

16 years old - New Year's Day, I was helping my family set up for dinner. Everything started looking kind of blue for some reason, I was getting tunnel vision and suddenly I felt dizzy, as if I were drunk. I wanted to mention this but my mother was saying something and I didn't want to interrupt, even though I couldn't understand a word she was saying, and being a pushover became my downfall. My vision went dark, but I could tell I was still standing, and I could see a bunch of shapes and lines in white in the darkness, and what appeared to be the outline of a person facing away from me. I couldn't see anywhere I was going, and I just stumbled blindly. After about 5 seconds, I felt something on the back of my knee and toppled, and as I hit the floor my vision suddenly came back. I was splayed out on the floor, my sister was looking at me and my mother and panicking, asking me what was going on, and I just kept telling her I didn't know. She said she was going to take me to a doctor, but never got round to it, and after a while I realised that it was a hallucination, since I still get them sometimes on much lower levels like hearing slide whistles and circus music. I digress, though, the night of that New Year's, I was still shaken by what happened and when I went to grab a glass in my bedroom I didn't close my hand and it smashed against the floor. I was still shaken, and in kind of a daze, and I took one of the shards and dragged it straight across my arm. Then several more times.

Now - it's been almost half a year since I last did it, and yeah, I still have nightmares about being an infant with a chemically imbalanced mother, and I'm still not sure if I have a thyroid problem or not, and I can't look at shadows without being reminded of New Year's Eve, but this is all shit I could've worked out in therapy. Now, I turn into a sniveling shaking mess acting like a scolded puppy whenever I hear a glass break, I can't listen to my favourite song because I listened to it while doing the deed once, and I literally have a chemical addiction to pain. None of the latter would've been true if I hadn't done it that one very first time, so to anybody who wants to "try it out" or "see what it's like", please, I beg of you, don't do it. It's not worth the youth it'll take away from you.

#tw sh #cw sh #tw ed #cw ed #tw mental illness #cw mental illness #tw suicide

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rpbetter · 3 years ago

Note

Raven used to be my friend but I had to cut ties recently due to feeling like walking on eggshells everytime we spoke and they never apologized to me for when I brought up something that they did upset me. I really miss them but I don't want to deal with the if it's not about me I don't care attitude.

Pt 2 of Ravens old friend. They reblogged anti fandom posts on their resource blog and I happened to be in that fandom and it hurt. A resource blog shouldn't be doing that.

Hey, Anon! I wanted to post this before I released one of my drafts, as that draft happens to be something I do not want you to misconstrue being about you. Thought about it after the fact and honestly, felt a bit ill over potentially making you think any such thing! The post is about how pushy people can be about what they like (usually as regards fandom) that you don't, and how that can be a contributing factor toward people saying hateful things about fandom topics. It was the quickest of the finished drafts sitting around to edit, so it was being queued, that's all! I do not think you were being pushy about your likes to "deserve" this, and frankly, even if you had? One's meme/resource/help blog is not the venue for shitting on your friends.

Okay, just wanted to clarify, everyone is stressed and feeling judged enough, I don't want to inadvertently contribute to that with any drafted posts!

I'm really sorry this happened, Anon. I don't mean that in a passing, flippant way that looks good on my blog. Not that I mean anything that way lol but I frequently have had "friends" in the past who felt like it was totally fine to reblog, even make original posts, like what you're talking about. Anti-fandom, anti my part of the fandom, my muses, my takes, and so on. Really hurtful things when we'd spoken in DMs about how upsetting it was, then they go and throw full support behind it in front of me.

It would be irritating with a grain of betrayal if it was a friend of a shorter time, or a mutual one doesn't really interact with OOC, but with a closer or longtime friend, it's actively hurtful. It feels like they looked you right in the face, said they do not give a single shit about either what is important to you or sparing your feelings, and went on. Yeah, it's just fiction, but the way we treat each other over fiction is real.

Given the behaviors displayed openly, it's not a shock you received no apology. Whether you got an apology or not, though, good on you for trying to bring it up to them! It's hard to do that with friends, even ones you're more certain won't blow up at you for it. I think if we could all be a little more (calmly, nicely, reasonably) open with each other like this, we could avoid problems that result from things festering and piling up, but it's hard to take that step...and I'm sorry this was your reward for it.

Just as blogs that are not one's RP or personal blogs shouldn't be openly judging and hating fandoms like that, friends shouldn't leave you feeling like you're walking on eggshells.

And, I'm going to say something unpopular here - sometimes, we all are capable of doing that to people we care about. Bad moments in lives combine, there are misunderstandings, sensitive topics, and things we can't entirely control otherwise. I don't like this idea tumblr has that anything other than a perfect, sweet, forever-cheery relationship is the actual height of abuse, so I want to be clear on that because it's just trivializing and blinding people to the possibility of toxic and abusive interactions. When you think "toxic" means "they don't like x, I love x, we don't talk about it," you're not aware of legitimate signs like being too worried to be yourself around them.

It's when this is the typical, established behavior that it's a problem. It's when there's never any meaningful acknowledgment, apology, or attempt at changing that it's a problem. If you constantly feel like you have to be worried about what a friend is going to say or do, it's not a friendship you need to be in, and I'm glad you recognized that and got out of it!

But there's also the idea that this is easy because it's the right and logical choice. It is not, and it's often made even harder because admitting to other friends that you miss the good times with the former one is all but impossible. They're often only reacting out of concern for you, the fear that if you miss this person they watched hurt you, you'll go back to that friendship, but it effectively shuts down a more healthy way of dealing with your feelings by sharing them with better friends who could support you.

So, Anon, it's also fully alright and normal to miss Raven! They were a longtime friend, and the thing about these kinds of friendships, these kinds of relationships in general, is that we seem to fail to realize that if things were straight awful from day one, we'd not have been friends. Of course, there are memories! Of course, you have the impulse to send them a link or that meme you know is their humor! It doesn't stop for a long time, either. That doesn't mean you're fucked up for it, it's something to be ashamed of, or that you're going to drop your better judgment and go send Raven a message immediately and rekindle that friendship. It's okay!

This right here: "I don't want to deal with the if it's not about me I don't care attitude." This is the place you should be in, and I congratulate you on being there because it takes a lot of shit heaped on someone by a friend to get there. Just keep remembering the good things you experienced with them, but always with this in mind, that their end of the friendship appears to have been predicated upon what they were getting out of it only.

Case in point, like everything they displayed to the whole damn RPC that encountered them these last few months, their personal interest and viewpoint was of greater importance to them with that anti-fandom post than a friend was.

I will say, it can be a delicate thing having this blog. I have opinions and takes that most of my friends share, what's important to me tends to run in the same lines as what is important to them, that's the basis of a lot of our friendship. We still disagree! We still have different interests, fandoms, favorite characters, songs, and experiences. Sometimes, I have to address a problem that they could misconstrue, in a totally normal and reasonable way, because while they're not doing whatever in a bad way, others are. I've made a point, more than once, to contact them and talk about it a little preemptively, and that's not just to keep up friendships, it also allows for extra insight from them and better phrasing from me so that other people I don't know won't take it the wrong way either.

Yes, I have some immutable, incredibly hard lines lol I think we all know what most of them are now, but expressing my purely personal opinion on something like fandom is not more important on this blog than anything else. I may genuinely feel like there is diseased connective tissue of disappointing behavior stemming from an origin point in a popular fandom, I'm not going to go off about it on this blog. It's inappropriate as hell, going to make people feel isolated and targeted whether they're my friends or not. Being passionately displeased about that does not have place here, and that's the kind of thing you have to consider, reconsider, force yourself to shut up about when you've got a blog that isn't for RP or a personal, you know?

I don't think everyone is cut out for doing that, and no one is cut out for doing it without ever making a mistake in judgment. Some people really should simply realize that there is nothing wrong with not being in the place in their lives or mental health to put that much effort into being fair or being quiet and concentrating only on memes. If you're one of those people, random reader? I'm serious, it's okay if you can't do it! It's not shameful, I'm also a deeply flawed human being, the quietest, politest, helpful meme blog out there is also run by a flawed human, they're just at a different place with themselves than you are. And. That's. Okay. Just don't hurt other people (and yourself, ultimately) by forcing it, please.

I suppose, knowing that it wasn't important enough to chill and reevaluate for the sake of a friend is some consolation lol what one won't do for friends definitely won't be done for random muns deemed problematic. So, maybe that'll make some other people out there feel a little better, and I thank you for sharing...as much as I wish you had nothing of this experience to share. I know it's an unpleasant one to have had, and I hope you have much better friends!

I promise you that I'll never post anything here that is viciously against any particular fandom or any such thing, and that if you feel like I've been unfair about anything at all, I welcome polite messages as a way of discussing it so we can all be clear and/or learn from each other. I know, I openly admit, it's kind of a draw of the blog, that I have a...um, tone of salt about things lol and sometimes, I don't phrase things the way they deserved. So, it's always okay to drop in for clarification or counterpoint, so long as it isn't being done with a shitty attitude that incites hostilities. Let's do have a legitimate conversation about it instead of hurt feelings!

Thanks again, Anon!

#vespertine #answered #anonymous #fandom #toxic friendships #drama cw

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callmeblake · 5 years ago

Photo

Frank Iero, New York, NY, June 2019 (X)

Aug 29, 2019, 09:10am

Frank Iero May Just Be His Own Puppet Master

Photo Credit: Audrey Lew

Interview below the cut

Derek Scancarelli

Contributor

Hollywood & Entertainment

I am a music journalist living in New York City.

Frank Iero is breathing deeply and fighting off nausea. This isn’t uncommon for the 37-year-old guitarist and vocalist, given his predilection for debilitating anxiety. But on this occasion, it isn’t pre-show jitters.

“Oh my god, I hate this f*cking boat,” Iero says, as the docked vessel on which he sits knocks against a pier in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Iero and his band, The Future Violents, just finished an intimate Saturday matinee show as fans sweat, sang and caught a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty.

It had been about 16 years since Iero and his now defunct band, My Chemical Romance (the band broke up in 2013), first performed on water. In July of 2002, the band released its debut album, I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. In October of 2003, the soon-to-be emo heroes performed alongside New York Hardcore legends Sick Of It All at an aquatic gig booked by New Jersey college radio station WSOU. And in June of 2004, My Chemical Romance released Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, the band’s platinum-selling breakthrough record. In a matter of two years, Iero’s life changed dramatically.

In 2019, Iero still hasn’t found his sea legs, but a lot more has changed. He’s fathered three children, released three full-length solo records (including 2019’s Barriers), and survived a near-death experience. And as he gets older, he finds truth in life’s greatest clichés.

“Time flies, it just screams by,” Iero says. “You think you’re appreciating the time, but it’s easy to take it for granted. It’s a shame.”

But Iero is trying his hardest to pay attention to the little things, especially when it comes to family. He and his wife, Jamia, have three children together: nine-year-old twin daughters, Cherry and Lily, and a seven-year-old son named Miles.

“It’s wonderful to see them evolve and come into their own,” Iero says. “But it’s funny how personalities are innate. We shape the way they experience things or teach them the ropes, but for the most part, I’ve found that we are who we are when we’re born.”

From the start, Iero has seen an even split in the twins’ personalities. Cherry, he says, most behaves like her mother, whereas Lily possesses her father’s attitude.

“Some of the sh*t I hear coming out of my daughter's mouth,” Iero says laughing. ��My God! It’s stuff I think but never say — they don't know to be ashamed yet! It's amazing and honest and pure. And I know exactly where she's coming from because I feel the same way.”

As part of fostering a relationship of trust and honesty, Iero has been age-appropriately transparent with his kids about the 2016 accident that almost killed him, his brother-in-law and guitarist Evan Nestor and his manager Paul Clegg.

While unloading gear from their van in Sydney, Australia, a city bus crashed into the group and their vehicle. In a 2017 interview with MTV, Iero recounted, in vivid detail, the moment he was dragged underneath the bumper of the bus, the screams of his brother-in-law, and the blood pooling from his manager.

Although Iero was able to walk into an ambulance carrying one of his friends, the scene was a spectacle overrun with emergency personnel — they even landed a rescue helicopter in nearby Hyde Park. Despite serious injuries, amazingly, there were no fatalities.

When Iero returned home from the hospital, he explained to his children that he was in a car accident, but that it was a singular freak incident.

“You don't want to lie,” he says. “They're getting older. Their friends and their parents are on the internet. They're asking questions. It does get back to them.”

Iero was as honest as possible, but avoided any gory details. He was also conscious that it wouldn’t be long before he would travel for work again — and he didn’t want to scare his kids any further.

Almost four years later, residual damage from the crash is impossible to ignore. Nestor has nerve damage in his leg that may never be corrected. Clegg’s leg and knee have undergone multiple surgeries, but are in poor shape. And Iero still has a tear in his shoulder that hurts every time he plays the guitar. Despite the pain, he’s afraid to undergo surgery.

“I was lucky enough to walk away and still play,” Iero says. “If I were to test fate again and go under the knife, if something were to go wrong… to let that be taken from me … no, I can't.”

On some days, the emotional toll of surviving such a traumatic accident weighs more heavily. Iero describes his recovery as non-linear: some days he feels collected and in control, other days the memory rushes back into his mind.

After his new band finished recording Barriers, Iero and his team went back to Australia for appointments pertaining to the accident and corresponding litigation. As soon as he exited the plane, Iero felt like he’d returned to the horrific scene. For the following week, he was barraged by an unending state of panic.

“You go through these instances of PTSD,” he says. “You never know what's going to trigger and send you all the way back to the beginning with recovery.”

Iero greatly underestimated how difficult his return to Australia would be. When navigating to a doctor’s office near where the accident occurred, he couldn’t bring himself to walk down the street. And suddenly, he felt surrounded by buses.

“I don't know if this is true,” he says. “But it felt like every other car on the street was one of these f*cking buses. They were everywhere. It was frightening. I couldn't do anything. I was shaking like a leaf.”

Despite the traumatic flashbacks, Iero continues to reflect on that day. In the promotional run for Barriers, he discussed the accident at length. And on the record itself, he addresses the complicated ripple effect it’s had on his entire sense of self.

“I don't think it needs to define me,” Iero says. “But it was something I needed to talk about on this record. It's not something I could sweep under the rug. But do I want to dwell on it every day and relive it? No. But I think about it constantly. I feel the pain constantly. It's on my mind.”

In recent interviews, Iero has tended to frame a few philosophical takeaways from his ordeal. In simple terms, the first idea is that he’s found a new lease on life — that everything happens for a reason and he’s been given an opportunity to seize the day. The second philosophy is much darker, a sort of survivor’s guilt compounded with fear and existential dread. The third and most abstract consideration is closest to Simulation Theory — where Iero has the ability to control his own artificial timeline.

Sometimes, Iero questions if actually died that day. He wonders: Is this all real?

“It’s hard. No one can tell you what to believe,” he says. “But you come to this realization, ‘Well, this is real to me, the hand I was dealt, so I have to make the best of it!’”

Through the acceptance of uncertainty, Iero surmises that he just may be his own puppet master.

“If this is a figment of my imagination,” Iero says. “If this is all in my head, then I am the master of my own destiny. If I want to do something, I can manufacture it. And if it's not the case, then at least it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe putting positive vibes out into the universe is beneficial. If we didn't make it and we're just going through this weird labyrinth in my mind, I can do anything I want.”

And lately, he’s been doing just that. Call it sorcery or the power of positive thinking, but Iero is motivated. For Barriers, he was able to assemble a dream band, The Future Violents (different lineups of his backing band have previously gone by The Cellabration and The Patience), featuring his brother-in-law Nestor on guitar, Thursday’s Tucker Rule on drums, Murder by Death’s Matt Armstrong on bass, and Kayleigh Goldsworthy on keyboard.

The theme of the album — and his own internal dialogue — mostly relates to tragedy and timing. Did the universe have a course set out for him? Or was he just some random victim?

“The crazy thing is that you didn't do anything wrong,” Iero says of the accident. “Yet, all of this stuff was taken from you and you have to make these decisions. You get angry a lot.”

He continues: “These random, abrupt, violent actions. Do they happen to us? Or for us? I wouldn't have been able to make this record if it didn't happen. And it made me realize a lot of things about myself. Am I happy it happened? No. But I'm happy where I am right now.”

Iero views Barriers as an exercise in vulnerability. If the aftermath of his accident taught him anything, it’s that success was meaningless to his character, but adversity helped him grow. For the first time, addressing childhood trauma helped Iero expose himself in a way that felt freeing.

“When you put something to song, it gives that memory weight,” Iero explains. “If you never talk about it, it's almost like it didn't happen. There's a fine line between relinquishing that power to this memory, situation or trauma, or holding that power over it and creating your own narrative from it.”

Barriers also intertwines Iero’s childhood experiences with his current perspective as a father. This go around, he felt comfortable writing about his parents’ divorce — the couple split when he was three and divorced when he was seven.

He looks back on the unpleasantness of the process and his consequential understanding of his mother’s issues with addiction, depression and mental illness. On his 2016 record, Parachutes, Iero first referenced his mother’s struggles and his own liability to inherit her traits. He’s still horrified by the idea of predeterminism.

“When you're a young kid being surrounded with it, it doesn't feel right,” Iero says. “You're not happy. You're scared. You're constantly concerned for your parent. It’s almost as if you become the caregiver.”

He continues: “Then you see yourself falling into these patterns that you were witness to and maybe in a roundabout way were taught. That addiction, that depression, runs through you. It's easy to fall off that cliff. I don't want that for my kids and I need to stop this cycle. Like this sh*t stops with me. Whether it be I get okay, or I f*cking turn my lights out.”

It’s this sort of tongue-in-cheek use of concerning language that keeps Iero’s fanbase enthralled, yet somewhat on edge. Take for example, in the comment section for his video “Young & Doomed,” some diehard fans are troubled by his repeated use of the words “hurt myself again.” While he’s surprised to hear about the response, he counters that the record is ultimately meant to feel uplifting and positive, even if addressing dark topics.

“I don't think that we should strive for perfection,” Iero says. “This idea that we should all have this perfect life and be pretty and purse our lips to post a picture on social media is bullsh*t. The things that make us unique are important.”

He continues: “Sometimes we're our own worst enemies and we hurt ourselves. Those scars, though, are important. They're beautiful. ‘Young And Doomed’ is a call to arms to celebrate the things people think are wrong with us.”

Now, Iero just hopes his story and music inspire fans to try, fail and try again.

“You don't find out who you are unless you get a scar and get hurt,” Iero says. “You should be hurt, hurt other people, and learn that it feels terrible to hurt someone else. You should feel sorry for it and make amends for it. These are important lessons to be a better person. You find out who you truly are by attacking things that scare you the most.”

Frank Iero is currently touring Europe with Laura Jane Grace & The Devouring Mothers.

#frank iero #august 2019 #forbes #audrey lew #red eagle shirt #all blue #october 2019 #bus crash #navy blue tiger windbreaker

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riverheld · 4 years ago

Text

eleven random questions

got tagged by @thcbcastbclow

tagging: @pcrticlvcid, @alleviatiion, @bystcrdust, anyone who wants to steal !!

Instructions: Always repost with the rules, answer the 11 random questions left for you and leave 11 more for the people you tag!

1. Do you have any kind of collections you make, or that were passed down to you?

Not to be very gay and very witchy, but I do collect rocks, both crystals and just rocks I think are nice from places I like. I also collect postcards, I guess, or small art prints, which I have taped to my wall currently.

2. When was the last time you went to the hospital and what for?

I genuinely do not think I have been to a hospital in recent memory. The last time I was even in the urgent care was to get a strep test like ... four years ago, I think.

3. Do you know how to speak in any foreign languages? If not, what languages would you like to learn, if any?

I have an intermediate understanding of Arabic, as I’ve been studying it for three years, and a basic understanding of Dutch - just enough to not cry in the grocery store. I’ve also absorbed some Korean and Spanish just by proximity over the years, and would love to expand my fluency.

4. Dissect your character. Which other characters did you take inspiration from to create it? (multimuses, pick your muses)

Quinn has been through a fair few iterations. They were first a feral blood mage banished to the woods and avoiding using their magic and simply farming, and not processing any trauma, which ... isn’t too diffeent. They’ve gotten younger, and less focused on romantic relationships, and I’ve played a lot with how their magic works over time. They did come as a want to make a specific foil to an angsty character I quite liked as a teen, and to help me process my own shit, so I’m glad they’ve grown up too.

5. From all the things that you might be going through right now, which one do you pick to disappear and which one do you pick to stay?

I want the struggle of unknown mental illness hell to disappear, please. Just ... let me know what’s going on so I can manage it, not fight symptoms day in and day out with no understanding. As unfortunate as it is, that means the impending doom of the future is here to stay. Looking at jobs and schools is ... at least interesting, if awfully overwhelming.

6. Is there any playlist you’re currently listening to on repeat?

ALWAYS. this one, and my feral studying high energy mix.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3M7o7zTNZCF112IlxXKVTH?si=1RL1p5asRl65knoKUZiQGA

7. Tell me a quote that your character said that you really like or are proud of coming up with. Or if your characters are not very quotable, tell me a quote you’ve read that you could say on a daily basis. (multimuses, pick your muses).

We have an in campaign list of these so hmmmmmmmm, I tend to lean more on the funny than heartfelt.

Sam, the lorekeeper, did say something along the lines of: “Not all of the ties you made in your last existence were severed at death. Unfortunate for you."

Which is just. Ominous as hell.

8. What comes easier to you while writing? Is it the dialogue, the action, the plotting, the description, something else?

Plotting is usually easiest for me? I’m full of ideas and emotions but rarely do I have the energy or time or motivation or combination of such to sit down and write it out in a literate, grammatically correct sort of way.

9. When’s the last time you drank water or ate some food? Go do it right now.

I have water on my desk and I just made a funfetti cake it is very tasty

10. Is there any specific smell that you can close your eyes and say “That’s it. I’m finally home”? (take home as an open concept - it can be a state of mind, a person, a generic place, the actual structure you live in, etc.)

Lavender. The familiar decay of autumn leaves and damp soil. Clean bedsheets.

11. How are you feeling?

Very confused. As per usual. Head empty, no thoughts, but head actually full and none of the thoughts actually make sense to be able to parse through and be coherent.

Questions for you:

What song makes you feel feral, in a good way?

How many languages can you count in?

What’s your favorite part of the current season?

Favorite comfort food to make?

What brings you the ,,, the good serotonins to write?

What is a fun fact you learned recently?

Important, but mundane life advice to offer the masses?

Describe your character as a conglomerate of items you have near you currently.

What’s your writing space like? Clean and tidy or unorganized? When’s the last time you cleaned?

What are you looking forward to?

Favorite texture of bedsheets? This is important.

#;ooc

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