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duckprintspress · 28 days ago

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Duck Prints Press Roundtable: Classic Hollywood

We got a blog post request from one of our backers on Patreon, to discuss classic Hollywood movies and related queerness – so here we are with a Duck Prints Press roundtable focused on our favorite classic Hollywood films, why we like the genre, and some classics that serve queer vibes. The contributors to this round table are: boneturtle, Nina Waters, Mikki Madison, E. C., YF Ollwell, Zel Howland, Linnea Peterson, Shannon, S. J. Ralston, Dei Walker, Meera S., Shadaras, Shea Sullivan and an anonymous contributor. Spellings and punctuation are [sic] throughout this post.

As an opener…

boneturtle: what is the definition of a classic hollywood movie? is it a particular time period?

Nina Waters: according to Wiki, “Style of filmmaking characteristic of American cinema between 1910s and the 1960s.”

This post is quite long, so in brief, here are the questions we chat about, and you can check out our answers below the read more!

1. What was your first introduction to classic Hollywood movies?

2. What’s something that you love about classic movies that you feel is missing from modern movies?

3. What classic Hollywood movies give you the biggest “queer vibes”?

4. Do you know any queer fanworks inspired by classic Hollywood movies? What are they?

1. What was your first introduction to classic Hollywood movies?

Nina Waters: My mother looooooved classic Hollywood movies, so I can’t remember any specific starting point. I think the first I really loved was The Wizard of Oz, though. Or maybe Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (so problematic, but the dancing still makes me so happy).

Mikki Madison: Oh no. I wrote a movie review blog in college and you have tapped into something primal in the back of my head with this. My dad was a HUGE fan of old Hollywood musicals so I grew up watching classic Hollywood movies. The most formative for me was probably The Sound of Music (although Nina. I am with you on Seven Brides for Seven Brothers; I loved that one). But seriously – the music, the slow burn romance, the grumpy one is soft for the sunshine one, the way Maria burrows her way into their lives and completely upends them, the adventure escape from the Nazis at the end…okay actually I’m realizing that was a lot more formative than I thought at the time, holy monkeys, how many of my favorite tropes can be traced to this.

E. C.: Do classic Disney movies count? If not, probably The Wizard of Oz. And some of the classic musicals and Hitchcock movies with my mom. (my brother was obsessed with The Sound of Music for a while, but that was 1965 so I don’t think that counts for this discussion)

YF Ollwell: (rubs my hands together evilly in doing PhD applications with a studio era project). My first introduction to classic Hollywood films was through my grandparents, but I came to LOVE them only recently vis-a-vis a professor and mentor in my Master’s program. he taught a studio system class that completely rewired my brain and showed me just how beautiful and rich this period of film was in a way i’d never considered. Also, without doxxing myself, my university hosts the paper archive of one of the major studios, so getting the opportunity to look at those documents only made me fall in love more.

Anonymous: Some Like It Hot, I believe. Technically, I watched Psycho earlier, but I was not paying attention. For some reason, the acting infuriated me and I couldn’t stand listening to anyone except Norman Bates.

Zel Howland: Probably Wizard of Oz! Not only did I grow up near where it was filmed, I was also in a stage production of it when I was a teen (playing Uncle Henry/the Emerald City Guard). It’s definitely not one of my favorite classics, but I do have a special place in my heart for it.

Linnea Peterson: My introduction to classic Hollywood movies was either The Sound of Music or The Wizard of Oz. Both of those were frequent re-watches in my early childhood (like ages 3-6).

Shannon: I know I saw a bit of classic hollywood as a kid (these were later, but we had Charade and a few other Cary Grant movies around along with My Fair Lady) but I didn’t think about classic hollywood on its own until college when a professor said I seemed down and assigned me a Charlie Chaplin marathon for homework. This was for a Shakespeare class so we eventually found a way to tie it back to the coursework

S. J. Ralston: I also grew up in a house where we watched a lot of older movies, but it was probably something Buster Keaton did, or Casablanca.

Dei Walker: I know I watched Wizard of Oz as a young’un, my grandmother having been a Kansas farm girl, but the strongest memory I have is middle school, when a couple of the teachers ran a classic movie club. The first one I remember watching was Singin’ In The Rain. ((you are now required to go watch the Tom Holland Umbrella lip sync video. It’s okay, I’ll wait.)) We also watched My Fair Lady and Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Meera S.: old hollywood movie: Wizard of Oz (1939)

2. What’s something that you love about classic movies that you feel is missing from modern movies?

Nina Waters: I think the writing on most classic movies was stronger, and the effects more interesting. Because they couldn’t just rely on computers, CGI, and advanced post-production to fix things, and also because being black and white or basic technicolor meant they couldn’t cover crap with lots of flashy bright colors, making something really good was a lot harder. As a result, a lot of old movies were crap, but there’s also a ton that shine so brilliantly without any of the modern distracting pizzazz.

boneturtle: okay, so i’ve watched two classic movies that i can remember: 12 Angry Men and The Yearling. I wouldn’t recommend either based purely on vibes, they’re depressing as hell, but I completely agree with Nina that the writing and artistry are just on another level and shine through more in these movies compared to modern films that can sometimes lean too heavily on special effects and high production quality rather than solid fundamentals. my favorite era in movies, though, is the 1980s. i am a huge fan of the 1980s coming-of-age movies, and part of that is because of their similar focus on the acting and the writing and simply telling a good story that sticks with you, rather than on creating exciting special effects or overselling the premise.

Nina Waters: oh 12 Angry Men is sooooo good. I’ve never seen the Yearling but I still remembering sobbing over the book so nopenopenope

boneturtle: yeah the movie was brutal

Nina Waters: 12 Angry Men I’ve done both (read and seen) and it’s depressing how completely 100% accurate it still is. The same can be said for a lot of classic movies that are about societal problems. Like, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington should be required watching imo. oh and All Quiet on the Western Front completely rewired my brain when I saw it. I still haven’t recovered. I can’t even bring myself to read it.

Mikki Madison: I agree with Nina – I think a lot of classic Hollywood movies still had deep roots in theater in terms of the writing and the acting and the practical effects, and that comes across in many of them to this day. Like, that’s one of the reasons I love 12 Angry Men – it’s based on a play and it’s set almost entirely in one room, and the drama of the story comes entirely from the interactions of these 12 strangers as they decide whether another human being deserves to die. It’s so tight. Also many of the actors didn’t just act; they sang, danced, played instruments, etc. I’ve watched White Christmas every year for like. 10 years, and I’m still so impressed with Vera-Ellen‘s dancing through the whole thing. and regarding practical effects and sets, I think even the old epics feel more epic precisely because to have a crowd of thousands, they had to literally have a crowd of thousands there to film

E. C.: LONG CUTS. It’s especially noticeable in musicals, but even in regular movies, the footage used from one camera might last 10, 20, 30 seconds before it cuts to another angle. It changes the entire feeling of the scene, to have all the action be by the actors/effects instead of generated by editing.

Meera S.: … what is missing: honestly save for a handful of exceptions the time and effort I think…

YF Ollwell: I think the actual LOOK of the films was so much richer than in films today, thanks to better lighting, costumes, and set design. I also prefer the studio style of acting, and there’s also so much more chemistry and eroticism between characters, paradoxically to (or, honestly, probably because of), all the restrictions on content. The average mid-century Hitchcock is SIGNIFICANTLY steamier than any so-called ‘erotic thriller’ today lol

Anonymous: Not gonna lie, I actually have a low tolerance for most of the acting styles found in this time period, particularly how gravely most of the leading men sound all the time. It’s like listening to a constant noir detective monologue and I hate it. That said, I do appreciate how much wonder Hollywood classics can carry with them. You can tell people were having fun making most of these films and exploring what the art form could do.

Zel Howland: MUSICALS. Movie musicals now try so hard to be ironic or self aware, they use autotune and modern singing style (let alone actors who are big names rather than big singing or dancing talent), and my biggest gripe is that nobody knows how to film dance anymore. I think a lot of cinematographers and directors and editors these days think dance is boring, so they do all these cuts and focus on individuals in big dance numbers and zoom in on faces. Whereas old Hollywood movie musicals would have long cuts of dance numbers that let the dance do the talking, in scenes where the dance was the point! (can you tell that I used to be a dancer? I have a lot of thoughts about this)

Shadaras: Practical effects my beloved <3 Seriously, the care and artistry that goes into practical effects, costuming, set design, etc is so incredible! And, as folk have been saying, having something actually there makes it a lot easier for actors to interact with and react to what’s going on instead of needing to imagine the digital effects which will be created in post. (I don’t know if it’s a direct response to the prompt so much as a grouch about modern movies, but: I wish that writers were more involved with production. I wish that actors were trusted with the full context of their scripts. I wish that people weren’t so freaked out about the idea of spoilers. If a story is good and the movie is well-produced, people will want to watch it even if they know every single beat! If you think your movie only works because of a surprise twist, that’s bad, actually!)

Linnea Peterson: Movie musicals that are just allowed to be musicals. I’m interested to see the Wicked movie that just came out, but I feel like on the whole there are fewer true movie musicals by percentage of movies made these days.

Shannon: I agree with what folks have said about the theatricality you get in older films. We get so many takes now and while it gives actors room to play and try things without worrying about how expensive literal film is, you also get close ups where they’re acting across from a stand in or with nobody there at all, and I think it loses a lot of the chemistry or dynamism of a back and forth uncut scene. Modern actors train to work without it, but audiences get so drawn in when that back and forth is onscreen, I think we miss it even if the performers can work without it

S. J. Ralston: I miss the lower fidelity visuals from old movies. I really don’t need to see every pore and hair lovingly rendered; it makes modern hi-fi movies look sticky and wet to me.

Dei Walker: Trusting the audience. Classic movies had you, and they knew they’d get the buy-in, and today it seems like there needs to be Explanations ™ and/or so much self-awareness. Just trust me to get what you’re putting down, okay? If you’re okay with going outside Hollywood, then I absolutely suggest Bollywood for more musicals.

3. What classic Hollywood movies give you the biggest “queer vibes”?

Nina Waters: Absolutely hands down my favorite for queer vibes is The Thin Man. I adore this movie, and when I was an adult I realized it’s because Nick and Nora have the epitome of bi4bi disaster bi energy. They’re fantastic.

Meera S.: There’s some speculation that irl Marylin Monroe was a lesbian (based on her diaries) who only slept with men to get ahead and I’d fully believe that if it were any of my business but I don’t speculate on the dead other than to than say, “Alexander Hamilton would be a bi drama king today… if he had the words.” that’s fine saying absolutes about especially any historical figure is bad historian-ing. Cause speaking in absolutes when you don’t know for certain is misinformation and misinformation is bad even if it serves your purposes. But if someone or a character says they are x thing I take them at their word. Like Cynthia Erivo talked about being bisexual in 2022 no one outed her. Like Lestat and Elphaba say they’re bi and their respective authors agreed in text and meta so.. bisexuality be upon you.

E. C.: The Philadelphia Story (and High Society), and all of the cross-dressing/drag comedies: Some Like It Hot, Victor and Victoria, etc. I’m sure I’m forgetting something obvious.

YF Ollwell: How about some classic Hollywood films that are queer, and (in my opinion) should be considered such even if they were hampered by censorship? Hitchcock made three that are stunning: Rebecca (1940), Rope (1948) and Strangers on a Train (1951). Queen Christina (1933) is also VERY queer. (i bring up hitchcock so much because he’s the subject of my capstone and i’ve been swimming in his documents and filmography for three months lol)

Mikki Madison: Hitchcock is classic for a reason. I remember the first time I watched Rear Window; I thought it was so slow to start, but I didn’t realize how gradually the tension had been increasing until I was absolutely on the edge of my seat and couldn’t look away

Nina Waters: I’ve never seen Hitchcock and I really need to fix that

E. C.: YES you do. Rear Window and Rebecca are better places to start (imo) than, say, The Birds or Psycho (but I would love to hear YF Ollwell’s take)

YF Ollwell: if i had to pick the best starting point it’d be his run of three in the mid to late 50s (rear window, vertigo, and north by northwest), then psycho which is contextualized by those three, then uhh strangers on a train because i love it and its really good

S. J. Ralston: Strangers on a Train is also my favorite and it doesn’t get nearly enough love!

YF Ollwell: i am the world’s number 1 Rope defender and its easily the gayest of the three i mentioned (as in i have seen the production code memos that say ‘you need to make this film less gay’) but will also admit its not for everyone lol. psycho is still absolutely worth a watch from a purely formal and performance standpoint imo. it looks CRAZY. and there’s a scene between anthony perkins and martin balsam that my mentor finds an excuse to show in every class for good reason LOL

Mikki Madison: Rear Window and North by Northwest are my favorites, I think

Anonymous: Again, I am going to say Some Like It Hot, which is pretty textually queer! If that doesn’t count, then I’ll say The Wizard of Oz. Its camp vibes are unmatched.

Zel Howland: Some Like It Hot has already been mentioned, but it ought to be mentioned a million more times. Queerest film I’ve ever seen, I have no idea how that got past the censors. I’m also going to give an honorable mention to Singin’ In The Rain, which is less textually queer but has thee polycule of all time.

Shadaras: and +1 to Singin’ in the Rain as a queer movie/production

Shea Sullivan: Auntie Mame was a big one for me. Definitely had queer vibes. And Victor Victoria was amazing.

Shadaras: Victor Victoria! <3 Absolutely a movie with hella queer vibes

Linnea Peterson: I don’t have good answers to 3 and 4 because my peak movie-watching period has zero overlap with the part of my life where I’ve known I’m queer (movies are just not the kind of sensory and mental stimulus my autistic brain craves). I do have a friend who’s obsessed with the implied polycule in Singing in the Rain, though.

S. J. Ralston: “The Court Jester“! Not only does it have catchy musical numbers, a cast full of powerhouses (Danny Kaye! Angela Lansbury!), and some of the most elaborately comedic fight scenes ever put to film, the two protagonists are both So Very Gender and it’s a delight to watch.

Dei Walker: I honestly don’t know because I don’t watch a lot of movies at all, classic or not. One of my role models/coworkers growing up loved Audrey Hepburn, so Breakfast at Tiffany’s has queer vibes by adjacency but I wouldn’t say it in and of itself has a queer feel to me.

Meera S.: queer vibes: the wizard of Oz, and yeah it is cause the wicked years are bisexual and Ozma in the Oz books is basically trans by 1900s standards.

In conclusion, our list of queer-vibes classics for your enjoyment:

Auntie Mame

The Court Jester

High Society

The Philadelphia Story

Queen Christina

Rebecca

Rope

Singin’ in the Rain

Some Like it Hot

Strangers on a Train

The Thin Man

Victor/Victoria

The Wizard of Oz

4. Do you know any queer fanworks inspired by classic Hollywood movies? What are they?

Nina Waters: S. J. Ralston’s contribution to Aether Beyond the Binary has some classic hollywood vibes/inspiration, even though it’s sci-fi with robots. (the robots are of classic Hollywood stars!)

Anonymous: Yes, plenty, most of which are based on The Wizard of Oz.

Shadaras: yeah, I was similarly going to say that I’d need to think about fanworks, but the Oz books are pretty queer on their own! there was recently a Classic Film Fanfic Exchange (ao3 | dw) which was an exchange for fanworks about movies released before 1/1/1980, which is a slightly broader period of time than we’re talking about! but it’s fun seeing what people requested and created, and that there was enough enthusiasm around the idea to have a whole exchange about it! (in other exchanges, Yuletide would inevitably have some fun fanworks for classic movies as well, but none come immediately to mind.)

Dei Walker: I do not, but this is making me want to see about writing some!

Talk classic Hollywood flicks to us! Which give you queer vibes? What classic-inspired modern queer works are you familiar with?

#duck prints press #roundtable #hollywood #classic hollywood #hollywood movies #classic hollywood movies #queer hollywood movies #queer movies

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hollywoodsargeant · 1 year ago

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omega logan anon here, and yes I have read your entire ao3 discography! you and your works truly impressive, I dearly loved the red parts oh my god it chemically rewired stuff in my brain completely about logan and alpha oscar hellooo chef kiss 10/10 slayagery methinks. Good shy taken aback logan in midpoint between the water amd your name is so good, logan having first heat and got his toy,not allowed to be close with Kyle and so so confused and endearing I want to pat him on the back aaahh however I must confess I do not know much about Kyle Kirkwood background except hes logans bestie.

I hope people will see the potential in logan so we got more content!!!!!

THANK YOU! personally i think the omega logan agenda needs to be Pushed. i would say i'll get on it but i do have a boyish-shaped distraction that's been keeping me at bay for a while... but eventually. he will return. i will return. i <3 omega logan

secret omega remains to be one of my fav tropes ever if i could just write secret omega logan for the rest of ever without repeating the same plot 19 billion times i would. and midpoint... my beloved... i still love that fic sm. even if i wrote the whole thing in like one sitting. i need whatever posessed me that day to COME BACK...

and kyle kirkwood is my favorite he is my baby the second i got into indycar he won the top spot. he's on the wall in my room like seven times dw about it (logan is here like. 100 times. also dw about that)

and i agree. every day should be logan day

#ask #this is not the root of this post but i <3 sargewood #more sargewood in society i demand it #everybody wake up

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psychologicalwarclaire · 13 days ago

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I JUST EXPERIENCED ABOUT SEVEN DOZEN EMOTIONS ALL AT ONCE. PIXEL THIS IS AMAZING.

DONNIE LITERALLY DYING AND LEO REACHING OUT TO HIM. THE DROPS OF BLOOD. THE TEAR. THE WATER ANIMATION OF IT IS BLOWING MY MIND. DONNIE'S EYE. HE LOOKS SO T I R E D. LEO'S GETTING CLOSER BUT HE'S STILL TOO LATE OUGH. PIXEL I'M OBSESSED. IT'S LIKE TWO SECONDS BUT IT'S REWIRED MY BRAIN.

Little animation experiment/study that quickly became more Spider’s Web With Strings Attached fanart bc that fic still has a chokehold on me. Yippee more fanart for you :] @psychologicalwarclaire !! When I opened up that youtube video, I didnt expect to spend the next hour or so animating this, but here we are. No regrets.

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ilikemesometaetaes · 4 years ago

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Don’t Hold Your Breath ~ jjk

Chapter Six (M)

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes

•••> Summary: As the CEO of an international government security company, you have the world at your fingertips. Living life lavishly and extravagantly has become the norm. Behind closed doors, however, you host a past that renders you lonely and, quite frankly, miserable. It’s only a matter of time before your past comes back to bite you right in the ass.

•••> Pairing(s): Jungkook/Reader, Taehyung/Reader (slight)

•••> Inspo: This fic is inspired by the song “SAVAGE ANTHEM” by PARTYNEXTDOOR. Thank you to @dariangarcia, @btssmutgalore, and @junghoseokit for supporting my work. To my mamas, Kaitlin, Adora, Lauren, Lanie, Lu, and Sher.

•••> Word Count: 7.81k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Warnings: angst, dirty talk, sexual teasing, heartbreak, cursing, pining, depression, breakup, emotional instability, arguing | Warnings are written specifically to chapter.

Taglist: @dariangarcia @apurpledheart @itsgottabeyoo-ngs @hytibm @namjinsbaby @ggukkieland @fan-ati--c

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, say so in a comment to this chapter or the DHYB Main Page, or send me an ask!

NAVIGATION: Chapter Five (M) <- | -> Chapter Seven (M) -> Mini-Masterlist -> Series Masterlist

•••> Official Playlist

~#~

“I put the dirt into dirtbag. Still got your jacket in my bag.”

THEN.

“Kookie!” You screamed in between breaths, eyes watering at the struggle. “Stop! Please!”

“No way!” His laugh was buried in your hair as he pressed his face against the back of your head. “Apologize!”

“For what?” You wheezed, attempting to get away from the curling fingers that tickled your ribs relentlessly. His long legs were wrapped around your body, restricting your movement and effectively taking away almost any opportunity to escape.

“For calling me a singing demon!” His hands continued their assault, sending you into another laughing fit. You fought helplessly against his tattooed arms.

You wanted to bite back, but the lack of air in your lungs prevented you from doing so. Your heart beat wildly, adrenaline spiking and arms flailing against his grip. Desperation flooding your mind, you wrapped your hand around the one that caged your neck and dug your nails into his flesh in hopes that the pain would get him to weaken his hold.

Jungkook only laughed again and hummed teasingly. “Oh, just like that. Harder, baby.”

Squirming didn’t help much, but when you shifted your hips and felt something poking into your spine, you huffed with defeat on the horizon. His obvious boner signified that he liked your struggle- a clear indicator that there was no way he was letting you go any time soon.

Unless…

With another shift of your hips to grind your ass upwards on him, seating his dick between your clothed ass cheeks, you let the situation take over your body with your brain rewiring into a horny mindset in order to distract him.

“Jungkook,” You whispered through a gasp, hoping the change of pace would throw him off. It was a stunt you always pulled; whether it be during an argument or sex, changing the pace would unfocus your boyfriend’s attention and give you the upper hand.

Sure enough, Jungkook’s embrace around you loosened so that he could give himself more room to slide his manhood against you.

“Oh, baby...” He grunted into your ear with a sliver of surprise tainting his lust.

Slowly, so as to not trigger him, you slid one hand down his stomach and slid two fingers below the waistband of his shorts. With your body on top of him, you couldn’t go further inward, so you settled on harshly scraping your nails across his hip while you dug your other hand harder into his forearm.

“Please.” You said with more air in your lungs. Finally, you could breathe.

“Are you begging for me to fuck you?” His dick twitched against you, desperate to bury itself between your thighs. “Or are you pleading for mercy? Tell me, Y/N,”

Jungkook flipped the two of you over so that your chest pressed into the bed and his entire body pinned you to the mattress with a swift cant of his hips. “Which one is it?”

For a moment, you rolled your eyes and struggled to look at him from your compromised position. It wasn’t until your eyes caught sight of the numbers on the clock sitting on the nightstand that you began struggling with a new burst of concern in your mind.

“Jungkook!” You wheezed. “The time!”

“Answer my question, Y/N. I can stay here all night. The stage can wait.”

“But you’ll be late!” Your voice increased in volume.

“Only if you continue avoiding my question…” Jungkook trailed off for a moment before he leaned down to murmur softly in your ear. “Well, I’ll only be late if you refuse to let go of your pride to ask for mercy and beg for my cock instead. I will rearrange your guts if that is what you’re asking for.”

You huffed in frustration, the desire to fuck your boyfriend dissipating with his words. You knew that Jimin would be through the roof by now, searching high and low for the lead singer of BTS to dress him properly.

“Mercy.” You finally grumbled in defeat, not wanting to delay him any longer.

Almost disappointedly, Jungkook grunted as he removed his weight from on top of you. “Fine.”

“I’ll go turn on the car.” You got up and swiped the keys off of your dresser, thankful that you were still dressed in your internship clothes.

“You go do that.” Jungkook chuckled whilst sliding his shorts off of his body to reveal a very obvious boner tenting his boxers that you pretended to be oblivious of. “You’re a master at turning me on so I trust you with that.”

“Ew.” You grimaced at the poorly-delivered joke. “That was terrible.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was clever.” Jungkook chided.

“Not at all.” You quipped. After you watched him slide a pair of jeans up his muscular legs, you turned to leave. You just needed to make sure he got dressed. “I’ll be in the car.”

~#~

Jimin’s knowledge of art always mystified you. His prowess wasn’t the type of intelligence like knowing how Picasso depicted the loss of innocence in Guernica or how the melting clocks of Dali introduced surrealism to the world of art- no, that was Taehyung’s strong-suit.

Jimin knew how to create his own version of art that left viewers wistful and in absolute awe by making a stage the vessel of his masterpieces.

As you sat on the balcony, overlooking the crowd while they all thrashed and jumped to the beat of Hoseok’s bass drum and the duo of guitars that was Namjoon and Jungkook, you just had to sit back in your chair and stare at the composition that was Jimin’s show.

Flashes of blue and red lights swept across the crowd, printing themselves temporarily into the crowd’s retinas so that when the opposite color came back, a light hue of purple was brought into the experience for a fleeting moment. Short puffs of fire whenever Namjoon strummed a power chord warmed your face, even from the distance in which you sat from the stage, and lasers shot through the crowd every time Yoongi penetrated the sounds of his group with the keys of his keyboard.

Graphics on the jumbotron behind the band, which were also of Jimin’s creation, outlined each member with curls of dark, tentacle-like wisps that matched the purple hue of the crowd with its raven color.

The last song of the setlist, Blue and Grey, was one you were all too familiar with. The lights faded to a soft blue for a moment as Taehyung began the first strong notes with his bass and the crowd in the venue whooped and hollered in excitement- Blue and Grey was BTS’ most popular song. A year and a half into their journey of being a band and they already had a crowd favorite.

As Taehyung continued his bass line with his guitar and tattooed strumming arm put on display by Jimin’s spotlight, Jungkook leaned into the mic and began strumming his own guitar.

“Where is my angel?”

You sighed and leaned forward in your seat, loving the way Jungkook’s voice carried throughout the performance hall.

Taehyung accompanied Jungkook with the intro until Hoseok joined in to transition into the first verse with his high hat and snare drum.

Once the chorus hit, you couldn’t help but stand from your seat as you began to feel the power of BTS’ music rocking the venue.

“I just wanna be happier. To melt the cold me.”

Jungkook’s neck veins bulged from his skin as he belted out the notes, sweat dribbling down his temples from exertion. Even as he huffed for breath in between his lines, the image of him dressed in all black and owning the stage while ripping his fingers through his guitar strings was one you could never get tired of.

The songs were full of angst- the dark, unspoken feelings that not many people talked about- and you loved how you heard them from Jungkook through music. If only he were this honest when it was just the two of you.

“Don’t say it’s okay, ‘cause it’s not okay.” Jungkook closed up his lines with a heartbreaking tone that every fan in the crowd sang along with as Namjoon prepared to sing his part. For a brief moment, your boyfriend met your eyes across the large venue.

“Please don’t leave me alone. It hurts too much.”

~#~

NOW.

You walked into your building, grateful for the warm protection it offered against the freezing winter of New York City.

Noticing the lack of staff around, being that there was only the elevator operator and the receptionist sitting behind the marble counter, you glanced at your watch to check just how long you spent working.

20:17, your watch read. You had been working in front of computer screens and reading contracts for almost 9 hours.

“Greetings, ma’am!” The receptionist stood from his chair. “May I be of any service to you this evening?”

You shook your head to the man and continued on your path to the elevator where the other employee in the lobby waited to take you up. “None needed. I’ll be leaving momentarily.”

“Very well. Please let me know if you need anything.” He sat back down and turned his gaze to the computer in front of him.

The sound of your pumps echoed against the vast but empty room until you stopped in front of the elevator where the woman already had the doors opening in preparation.

“Good evening, ma’am.” She said lowly.

“ ‘Evening.” You responded, stepping inside without another word. The woman kept the conversation at that, which you appreciated, so you smiled at her in gratitude after you placed your key in the penthouse slot. She returned your smile with her own before the doors closed to encase you in silence.

The ride up was quiet, warranting you to pull out your phone so that you could read over your conversation with Taehyung again.

Why am I wearing think socks? I hate thick socks.

Read at 8:01 pm

Trust me. You’ll regret it if you don’t.

Is that so? Why?

Read 8:03 pm

Just wear the damn socks, Y/N.

Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?

Read 8:04 pm

Negative, captain

Why am I a captain now

Read 8:04 pm

Cuz I said so. Now stop talking or you’ll make me give away my position

Alright.

Read 8:05 pm

I said stop talking

…?

Read 8:05 pm

Fucking hell.

You let a small giggle slip past your lips at how normal the text conversation was. It was as if you never stopped talking to him, slipping into the normalcy of having Taehyung back in your life as quickly as it had been to cut him out of it. You zoned out for a moment in thought.

The strange sensation of friendship didn’t take any getting used to as it settled itself back into your bones and filled your heart with warmth like it never left- like the ice covering the beating organ was only temporary. As you stood alone, staring shallowly at the increasing floor numbers, you smiled in content.

The elevator slowed as the cabin came close to reaching the top floor, bringing you back to your senses. Sliding your phone back into the pocket of your slacks, you looked up once the elevator doors opened, only to drop your briefcase to the floor loudly.

Jungkook sat against the wall beside your door with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs. At the sound of your clumsiness clattering on the ground, his gaze snapped to you as he scrambled to stand up.

Anger flooded you immediately. You wanted to backhand him and rip his hair out. You wanted to scream and cry and lose your shit. However much you wanted to hurt him, though, you could not afford catching an assault charge on the man who defaced you once before.

There was a break of silence as you stood staring at him, unsure of how to handle the punch in your mood while the memories were forced to surface in your mind.

“Y/N…” Jungkook trailed, breaking the tangible barrier of tension. He took a step forward whilst obviously hesitating. “I-”

Instead of screaming at him, you went for the more sophisticated and controlled route to keep your lividity at bay whilst stopping his sentence in its tracks.

“How did you get up here?” It was a sensible question to ask. You just wanted to prevent him from deepening the conversation.

“I pulled some strings.” He murmured, looking down almost shyly, before piping up with more confidence. “But listen, I-”

“Save it.” You cut him off again, unable to control your facade much longer. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

His anxious expression turned worried- desperate. You didn’t miss the way his eyes became more expressive than you’ve ever seen them. “Please, Y/N.”

“Please what, Jungkook?”

“Please just give me a moment to speak.”

For a beat, you pondered his request. Taehyung’s words weighed heavily on your mind. We needed to talk.

Fuck talking. You have been done talking for ages.

“Wow.” You scoffed coldly, ice barriers slamming back into place over your heart. Taehyung had been able to melt them away, but Jungkook put them right back with fierce determination to completely ruin you. “You just want to take everything from me, huh?”

“Y/N, what-“ He blinked cluelessly, caught off-guard by your sarcasm.

“I gave you years to speak, Jungkook. I gave you everything.” You stepped forward, the boiling rage overtaking your body, and came to a stop in front of him with the fury of a charging bull. You wanted him to feel small and vulnerable.

“What else could I possibly give you? I have nothing left.” He took everything. The veins in your body were emptied and exhausted of every single ounce of energy to fight for someone.

You were unaware of the way Jungkook’s fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white and his nails dug into his palms.

You failed to notice how much he trembled under your gaze, physically struggling to protect his butterfly from your wrath.

Your vicious swings at the dainty being of hope were nothing compared to what he, himself, had done to it. Jungkook found it ironic that you gave him an aspect that he was just barely strong enough to protect yet took the darker things from inside him and destroyed them as if they were mere placeholders- as if you were his puppeteer.

You were too stressed to realize the toll it took on Jungkook to keep his act together. He needed to keep the door open long enough to be your friend. Anything to prevent losing you. Earlier, his demons swooped in and overtook him, suffocating him to silence once again, but for the first time, they ebbed away at the mere thought of you.

As he walked down the street with his stage persona flowing, the simple thought of your name empowered his butterfly to beat its wings so fiercely that it blew away all of the impending smoke and dark tentacles of smog that threatened to overtake his vision.

Once he thought of you, he thought of everything.

Your anger was justified. He understood that now. Watching you huff breath after breath following your question was somehow relieving- you still cared enough to be pissed off. Jungkook forced himself to look on the bright side of the encounter with you; he made himself see that you were still passionate about the past. You were passionately upset and he couldn’t be happier.

He had seen you with Taehyung. He saw the way you were happy again. Jungkook wanted a part of that because he was too selfish to back off and stay dormant in your life- too determined to make you silence his demons.

Even if it was just as a friend. He could deal with that.

“You’re right.” Jungkook stated.

You paused in your tracks at the concession. Anger no longer blazing- staying right where it was- you quirked an eyebrow at him. Any time the two of you fought, he would never come even close to alluding that you were right.

“You’re right and I’m sorry, Y/N.”

An apology.

Words always seemed minimal to you. Unless to communicate information, you found that words filled with feeling didn’t mean much from someone you didn’t know.

After Jungkook, anyone that told you they loved you was promptly deemed a liar. Kate worked hard to make sure you were aware of the fact that she would actually take a bullet for you because of how much she loved you. She spent moment after moment proving to you that she cared deeply even though she didn’t have to put up with you.

Your parents, despite not talking to you much, expressed their love and gratitude whenever you sent them money. You knew they were hard workers like you and didn’t have time to worry about trivial things like words. Instead of taking the easy way out by simply telling you that they loved you, they showed you.

But Jungkook, who claimed to love you in the way that a lover would- the only person to actually do so- lied.

You could never trust the words in that way again.

Still, you couldn’t help but be taken by surprise.

“I’m right? Really?”

“Y/N, you’ve been right since the beginning. I took and took and just stopped giving back. I understand that you’re angry and I want to fix it so that you don’t hate me anymore. I want to make it right.”

You were silent. You hadn’t expected him to admit his fault so easily. Jungkook changing the pace of your conversation ruined your momentum, sending you stumbling and scrambling for thoughts.

Jungkook sighed for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line as he let his eyes drop to the floor in your silence. He wasn’t about to lose the opportunity to elaborate further, though.

“Look, I know I fucked up. Bad. I know you can’t possibly forgive me right now, but I want you to know that I’m sorry for the things I’ve done to you.”

Your automatic reaction to being emotionally pushed came back, closing you down and disguising you as a cold woman.

“What the fuck do you know? What the fuck do you know about how badly you fucked up? I don’t need your lame-ass apology, Jungkook. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Stop pretending that you do. Sure, we fucked a little and kissed a few times, but that’s all that it was.” You grit out the last few words, lying through your teeth. “Now please move. You’re blocking the door.”

Shockingly, Jungkook obeyed. He stepped aside and clasped his hands behind his back without another word, allowing you to walk to your door and open it.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

No matter how many times you repeated the words in your head, commanding yourself to abide by the mantra as if it were law, the emotions in your head managed to break through and force your head to turn back after stepping through the doorway.

Jungkook stood as still as a statue, staring at you with a blank expression that was almost eerie. You glanced down quickly, unable to maintain the eye contact, and noticed that his knuckles were clenched.

It was almost as if he was a completely different person because of the fact that his appearance was drastically different from that of BTS Jungkook. The man that stood in front of you was no rockstar. He was not an idol nor a role model that millions looked up to.

He was a scared boy. The fear that riddled his eyes was extremely difficult to miss and it made him seem almost small whilst standing in the small junction between the elevator and your penthouse.

You shut the door in his face impulsively, hoping that you wouldn’t have to see him again.

Backing away from the door slightly, you waited until you heard the elevator signal that its doors were closing before going to look through the peephole. You finally released your breath and slumped against the door when you saw that he had left.

Without his presence putting you on edge and keeping you on your toes, you could finally reflect on the conversation that just transpired.

He admitted his wrongdoings and apologized for them. He showed you his belly and became vulnerable. He admitted defeat.

Jungkook wasn’t an apologetic person in the slightest; he wasn’t a forgiving one either. In all the years that you had known him, he was headstrong and stubborn- if you looked past the part where he closed himself off and cheated, of course.

This Jungkook, the one you had just spoken to, was not the one you remember. Maybe you were right. Maybe you didn’t know him anymore.

Your phone vibrating in your pocket distracted you from pondering any further over the epiphany, prompting you to pull it out and fumble with it to get away from the confusing subject. You were thankful for the distraction.

Kim Taehyung (BTS)

I’ll be out front in 15 mins

Cursing internally, you left the idea of Jungkook behind you and rushed to change into clothes better suited for the cold weather.

It was a given that a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips when you slid thick tube socks over your ankles. You hadn’t actually worn tube socks in ages because they didn’t exactly go with your usual professional style of suits and heels.

You zipped your coat up about three-fourths of the way before turning to look at yourself in your mirror with a huff.

Suddenly, you were bombarded with a memory as it flashed before your eyes.

“You know you look good, babe.”

You giggled as Jungkook came up behind you to look at you in the reflection, setting his chin on your shoulder while he used his tongue to toy with the hoop pierced into his lip.

“Thanks, Kook. Just want to look my best is all.” You met his eyes in your bedroom mirror, smiling softly.

“Well, you look beautiful.”

You were left staring at the empty space where his face was, unsure of how to react as you stumbled back from the intrusion. Another meaningless scene came barging into your senses before you could process the first.

“Wow…” You trailed off as you looked at the angry red spot on Jungkook’s chest. A brand new tattoo, the size of your hand, raised out of his skin and shined under the luminescent light of the tattoo parlor. With the tattoo artist cleaning up his station behind the two of you, you were left to admire his beauty in his reflection.

Jungkook stood shirtless in front of the full-length mirror as he smiled brightly at the last tattoo to complete his set. Your eyes drank in the way each exhibit of inked art contrasted with his smooth, caramel expanse of skin while you stood behind him.

The new piece, which was almost large enough to touch the Chinese characters stamped onto the side of his neck and the back of his ear, was a depiction of an angel falling from the heavens. The detail in the blackening feathers attached to the angel’s back was mesmerizing, drawing all of the attention from the rest of the tattoos covering Jungkook’s chest.

“Is there any special meaning behind it?” You asked, knowing that your boyfriend had a few meaningless tattoos that were part of his ‘woke-up-and-it-was-there’ collection.

For a moment, Jungkook stayed silent as he studied the work of art in the mirror. It wasn’t until you called his name again that he answered your question while meeting your gaze in the reflection.

“Nah. It just looked really cool to me.”

You pressed your hand to your forehead and looked away from your mirror, wondering why- now, of all times- you just had to remember those small memories.

You didn’t miss him- you know you didn’t. But something within you twisted at the thought of being with him- the memory of how it felt to be his.

The disconnect between the feelings of your heart and the thoughts of your mind, ever so obvious, shifted. His apology was unexpected, to say the least, but it was also surprisingly heartfelt and pulling on your need to forgive.

Saved by the bell, your landline phone began to ring.

You rushed to the bedside table and grabbed the phone from its dock, pulling it to your ear.

“Ms. Y/L/N? It’s the front desk. Mr. Kim Taehyung is here and waiting for you.”

“Got it. Thank you. I’ll be down in a moment.” You hung up the phone and grabbed your wallet and keys before shuffling over to your desk to grab your briefcase on instinct.

“Wait,” you spoke aloud, laughing at yourself and withdrawing your reach. “I don’t need that.”

As you opened the door to your penthouse, the sound of something lightly hitting your door had you looking down.

A small, navy blue bag, the size of your palm, swung from the doorknob and hit lightly against the wood from the momentum of you opening your door. Confused, you unhooked the loop from the doorknob and looked inside the bag to find a familiar-looking box inside.

Gingerly, you pulled it out and opened it. In the way of the box’s contents was a folded piece of notebook paper with your name scrawled across the top in Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

You held your breath after reading the note and looked down at the small charm.

Since you gave me yours, I’ll give you mine. -jk

In the fabric of the satin display lay the familiar gold chain that Jungkook gifted you those few years ago, but, instead of the small J that you were so familiar with, lay your own initial.

You knew Jungkook’s way with words well enough to know that the small note connected his intentions to the chain. You were instantly pulled back to the night that he gifted the necklace to you in the first place.

“It’s beautiful. Happy one-year, babe.” You whispered onto his lips with a smile.

After you sat back into your seat, Jungkook walked to your side of the table to put the chain around your neck. “I obviously have the describe how much this necklace means so that you never take it off.”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t even dream of taking it off, Kook.”

“I still need to explain. It was like a message from heaven when I saw them in the jewelry store.” He pouted, returning to his seat. “So the idea with these is that we’re wearing parts of each other. You’re wearing the part of me that belongs to you and I’m wearing the part of you that belongs to me.”

Jungkook continued as he raised his glass. “So even though you think this necklace is yours because it’s your letter, it’s actually mine.”

You cocked your head in confusion, struggling to understand the concept. “What are you talking about?”

“It sounded so much better in my head, I swear.”

You understood the idea now.

Push off the emotions. Don’t think about them.

You were hellbent on ignoring the weakness, knowing full well what path you would go down if you let them get to you.

Instead, you made your way down to the lobby with the bag gripped tightly in your mitten-clad hands, heading to the desk with determination furrowing your brow. Even as Taehyung stood from the small sofa in the lobby upon seeing you, you did not spare him a glance.

Forcefully, you thrusted the bag into the receptionists’ face, internally wincing at your rude gesture.

“Please put this in the lost and found. I have no idea where it came from.”

The receptionist did well at hiding his expression, however, you could still see a sense of somber recognition behind his eyes. You decided not to press him seeing as you want to avoid the topic of Jungkook like the plague.

“Understood, ma’am.” He took the bag from your grasp before you had the chance to rethink addressing his slip of emotion, placing it in a drawer by his knee. He looked back up and gestured to Taehyung after locking the drawer. “Mr. Kim is here for you.”

You sighed in a mild sense of accomplishment, forcing yourself to shut out the regret and sadness for giving away a formerly precious memory, before turning to face Taehyung with a small smile to mask your inner turmoil. Your smile faltered when you noticed that Taehyung mirrored the same expression on his face that the receptionist wore.

“What?” You asked, walking to him.

“I just-” He looked down for a moment, scowling, and you noticed he had placed his small barbell back into his eyebrow. “-nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Why won’t you tell me anything?” The two of you had walked to the door, stopping before going out into the cold so that you could finish your conversation.

“Like I said before, it’s not my place to say or judge.”

Taehyung opened the door to an icy gust of wind before you could protest, chilling you into a mind-numbing stupor as you whispered, “Holy fucking shit.”

“Good god, it is freezing.” Taehyung mumbled, linking an arm around your body and ushering you towards his SUV across the sidewalk.

Once sat inside the warmth of the cabin, you shivered in satisfaction at the heat gracing your body.

“Please tell me we’re not going to be outside for whatever we’re doing.” You pleaded to him. The light from the city was filtered by the darkened car windows, however, you could still see Taehyung’s shoulders moving up and down when he chuckled.

“Unfortunately, we are, but fortunately, I brought some heat packs for us.”

You whined in protest, looking up to the GPS screen in front of the driver to see if you could identify where the two of you were going. Without a route plotted, you were left even more curious.

About twenty minutes of small talk and a brief roast session targeting Hoseok later, you sat in front of the ice skating rink at the Rockefeller Center.

“We’re ice skating?” You asked, suddenly in shock. You hadn’t been ice skating since-

No. Stop it. Your mind warred with itself as it suppressed the memory threatening to spill over into your eyes.

“You’re quite the detective.” Taehyung’s sentence was drenched in sarcasm, functioning as the perfect distraction, and prompted you to lightly shove him with a giggle as you exited the vehicle.

“I thought I was a captain.” You pouted against the cold, pulling your hat down on your head even further in hopes of retaining your body heat and warmth from the van.

“You are.” Taehyung laughed again. “Captain Detective.”

You only rolled your eyes at his playfulness before you turned to face the rink from the sidewalk. A person passing behind you and bumping into your back lightly had you cursing New York City’s busy and bustling population.

Seeing all of the people on the rink, you instantly remembered that you did not inform Jay of your whereabouts.

“Do we have security?” Worry riddled your brain as you turned to look at him with your eyes widening in a panic. You became hyperaware of all of the possible outcomes to Taehyung being identified in such a crowded place.

Taehyung sighed as he walked you up to the ticket booth. “We don’t. I just want to have a normal and plain but fun time with my friend- without someone glaring at me like they don’t want to be here while they breathe down my neck.”

Despite understanding his statement, you couldn’t help the automatic stress to being in public without any form of protection.

“Taehyung,” You warned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Y/N,” He mocked your tone childishly before leveling it to his regular voice. “Relax, weirdo. We’re here to have fun and people are too busy having their own fun to notice us.”

“I doubt that.”

It wasn’t until you got your rental skates tightly secured onto your feet and began walking toward the ice that Taehyung mentioned a vital detail that he definitely should have mentioned prior to arriving at the center.

“You what?” You were baffled to say the least.

“I can’t skate.” He sheepishly brought his hand to the back of his head and adjusted his trapper hat under your scrutiny.

“Then why did we come?” You were almost yelling at that point.

“Because Brian told me that you liked ice skating!” Taehyung gripped at your fingers tightly, anxiety getting the best of him.

Fucking hell, Brian.

“Did he?” Your laugh was almost hysterical because of how wrong he was. You were becoming increasingly hesitant about giving your personal assistant a raise now.

Still, it was worth the effort. Brian was just trying to help the world’s most popular bassist when he came to him in need of information. It was a decent attempt.

“Yeah,” Taehyung huffed. “He did.”

“Well, Tae, I’ll have you know,” You moved towards the ice rink with determination. “I haven’t been ice skating in ages and I hardly like it. Hopefully, I still have muscle memory.”

“Oh god.” Taehyung groaned, tipping his head back as the feeling of imminent and utter chaos ensued. “Fucking hell, Brian.”

As soon as you stepped on the ice, you realized that you were still perfectly coordinated enough to complete the task.

Taehyung, on the other hand, clung to the walls like the world was attempting to swallow him into the ground. Dutifully, you stood next to him with a cautious hand on his back in the case that he went tumbling.

The sight was one to behold.

Kim Taehyung, hard core rockstar- the physical definition of a stereotypical ‘bad boy’- with tattoos littering his skin and a glistening eyebrow piercing that was winking at you from under his gray trapper, stood hunched over and afraid as he moved baby step-by-baby step to proceed further around the rink. You couldn’t help but giggle as the man who possessed the prowess of an elegant panther on stage adopted the likes of a stumbling newborn giraffe within the span of five minutes.

You were still concerned for him despite how funny it was. Tentatively, you reached your hand to grip his shoulder and urged him to look at you.

“Tae, are you okay? We can do something else if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay.” He wheezed in effort. “I got this.”

Making a show out of how brave he was, Taehyung stood up straight on shaky legs and began progressing forward by attempting to walk on the ice.

“I can show you how t-” Taehyung cut off your offer before you could finish it.

“I’ve been shown countless times how to skate and the best I can do is walk and maybe slide forward a little. I’m a lost cause, Y/N.” Even though he seemed upset, Taehyung couldn’t help but crack a smile at how clumsy he was.

You smiled pitifully at your clumsy friend before you stepped in front of him. “Here, hold onto my shoulders and we’ll slide forward together.”

All Taehyung could do was begrudgingly agree, hating the idea of having to lean on you for support but wanting to remain close to you for the majority of the night. Once he placed his hands tightly on your shoulders, you moved.

At first, you skated slowly so that Taehyung could adjust to the feeling of being pulled forward. Once he got the hang of keeping his legs locked so that you could move around easier, you skated at a normal speed.

After about ten minutes of joking around and catching Taehyung’s slipping form a handful of times, your mind was left free and without defense.

You hadn’t realized how vulnerable you were because of it.

“Y/N, slow down! I can’t go that fast!”

Your breathing came to a halt at the voice that echoed in your ears.

“Here, hold my hand and we’ll skate together.”

Panicking, you rushed your mind to shut it out. No. Stop.

Unknowingly, the chaos in your mind and the desperate need to get away from the memories had you gradually increasing your own speed to subconsciously escape your thoughts.

Taehyung’s nervous laugh and call of your name in warning fell on deaf ears while you furrowed your eyebrows in concentration.

“See? It’s easy. Just step and lean. Step- and lean.” His hand clutched yours as if he was trying to squeeze all of the blood from your fingers but you only squeezed back in reassurance.

“Don’t let me fall, please.”

Taehyung’s skate crashing into the back of yours served as the perfect distraction, yet it only lasted for a split second as the two fo you went tumbling to the ice in a hauntingly familiar manner.

In the process of falling, Taehyung had managed to wrap his arms around your waist and twist his body so that he could take most of the impact from the ice. Landing on top of him with an ‘oof’ reminded you of the last time you went ice skating.

Even with your face mere centimeters from your friend’s, all you saw was him.

Taehyung’s small puffs of air against your lips were an indicator of how close you were to kissing him. Truly, you could kiss him if you wanted to, needing only to relax your neck and let your head fall to close the rest of the minimal gap between you. He looked up at you with wide eyes, holding onto your gaze with an unreadable expression on his face.

All you saw, however, was a small mole dotting the underside of his lips. Fuck, you wanted to kiss Taehyung and rid yourself of the nightmare, but you couldn’t shake the sensation of how wrong it felt to kiss anyone but Jungkook.

“Y/N,” Taehyung called your name cautiously and pulled you from your thoughts. Instantly, your eyes welled with tears at the realization of how fucked you were.

You yanked yourself from him with abandon, needing to get far away from the reminder that you couldn’t move on.

Kim Taehyung was mature. He was kind and respectful- everything you could ask for in a man- yet the thoughts of Jungkook and the good memories you had with him outweighed the bad, preventing you from truly letting go.

Before Taehyung could protest, you stood and left him on the ice, making for a quick exit. You wanted to go back and help him up so that he wasn’t in danger, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at his face in this setting.

Instead, you skated off the rink and walked to the skate rental area, plopping down on the bench weakly to untie the laces. Once you did so, you set them on the counter and waited for your boots with your eyes on the ground. You didn’t want anyone to see you on the brink of crying.

“Y/N!” Taehyung’s voice was loud and attention-grabbing. You had half the mind to be concerned that he would cause people to notice him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you finally got your boots and rushed to put them on. Taehyung was finally off the ice when you slid the first boot on.

“Y/N,” He called your name again, awkwardly approaching you with the blades still on his feet. “Please, talk to me.”

You could only sniffle in response and continue to put your boots back on, a fresh wave of tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You’d kept them at bay thus far but Taehyung was making it extremely difficult as his comfort approached you. The welcome yet heartbreaking aura he exhumed paired with your teetering emotional stability wouldn’t fare well in such a public setting.

Without hesitation, you stood and walked away once you were done securing your shoes back on your feet. Again, you felt the urgent need to be alone.

And again, Taehyung was right behind you as he ran without putting his shoes back on.

“Y/N!” He grabbed you as he called your name more sternly, forcing you to face him. Your eyes met his briefly before you looked back down to the pavement and cursed yourself once a tear slipped out. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Because I-” Your breath caught in your throat as it constricted due to the beginning of a sob building in your chest. You cleared your throat and struggled to breathe your way through your response- one you had trouble communicating. “-I just can’t.”

Taehyung grimaced, looking around with concern, before he ushered your body to begin walking away from the busy area.

Once you were a good distance down the street, he grabbed both of your shoulders and forced you to face him once again. Away from the well-lit area of the ice rink, the only light that shone in the middle of the dark night was that of the street lights. With bated breath, you looked up at your friend with your mouth closed tightly so that the sob in your chest wouldn’t come barging past your lips.

The pain was nearly unbearable. It anguished you, knowing that you were stupid enough to think that you could eventually move on from Jungkook. It pained you, being aware of the fact that Taehyung had offered himself to you and you did nothing but continue to look at Jungkook.

But most of all, it hurt that you still wanted Jungkook.

If only you could reach into your chest and tear your heart out so that you couldn’t feel anymore. If only you could shut off your feelings so that it didn’t agonize you like this. If only it were that easy.

Under the light of the street lamps with Taehyung’s look of pity- the one he held as he looked at you across the club on that dreadful night those few years ago- on you, you broke.

As you began sobbing, Taehyung pulled you against his body and backed up into the darkness to give you the privacy to cry without being seen.

The pain stabbed your heart repeatedly; quick blows, shallow at first, became increasingly deep as you drowned in the memories of what once was.

Falling so passionately in love became your biggest regret. For so long, you hated the idea. You hated the fact that you still loved Jungkook notwithstanding the things he had done. You denied the fact until you started seeing the good memories again- until it was an unavoidable and objective truth.

The truth that you still loved him.

As Taehyung held you tightly in his embrace while you held your hands to your face and dug your nails into your skin, you sobbed uncontrollably at how completely and royally fucked you were.

“W-why-” You blubbered into your palms. “-why do I-I still lo-ove him?”

“Because your heart wants what it wants, Y/N. You have no control over that.”

At this point, you had to tell him how you felt- how you truly felt.

“I w-wish that it wa-anted you. I’m so sorry, T-Tae.”

“Hey, now. Don’t say that. It’s a waste of time to wish for things that you have no control over. Don’t waste a wish on something stupid like that.” Taehyung pressed his face to the top of your head, pressing his lips there to leave a small kiss. “Besides, I have someone waiting for me back home so you don’t need to worry anymore.”

Instantly, you looked up at him in shock while still hiccuping. “You do?”

“Of course.” Taehyung laughed warmly, smiling down at you. “I wasn’t gonna be stuck on you forever. One way or another, you move on.”

“It’s been years since I’ve even seen him, Tae. The fact that I still haven’t moved on despite that has to tell you something.”

“Which is why I told you that you still need to talk to him. You can’t move on or do anything about the way you feel unless you communicate it.” He pulled back to bend his body to become eye-level with you so that he could look you in the eyes as he spoke. “There’s things you don’t know.”

For a moment, you weighed his words in your mind. If they’re things that Taehyung can’t tell you because they’re ‘not his place’ to say, then you figure that the matter must be a serious one. Your curiosity was getting the best of you. It wasn’t long before you gave in.

“Yeah…” You trailed off in hesitation, suddenly regretting shutting out Jungkook. “I guess I do need to talk to him.”

“Please just… take your time and be patient with him.” Taehyung winced slightly. “He’s hot-headed but he’s a lot better than he was before. I promise you that.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Taehyung.” You scowled as you backed out of his embrace.

“You know I don’t. I would never suggest that you talk to him if he was the same as he was before.”

A few beats of silence passed before you asked the question that had been nagging at your mind since your revelation of remaining love for the lead singer of BTS.

“Do you think we still have a chance?”

Taehyung answered immediately. “That’s not my place to judge. All I know is that you guys did something sad like being broke up even though you had life.”

“Good god, Tae,” You huffed out a laugh. “Are you quoting Lil Dicky right now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Taehyung crossed his arms and let out a small ‘hmph’ as he lightly stomped his foot onto the sidewalk. “And you can’t stop me.”

For a while, Taehyung let you catch your breath and calm down while looking up and down the street. It seemed as if he was planning something.

Before you could process what he was doing, Taehyung took you by your arm, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and began walking across the street. You looked up in the direction of your path and noticed that you were heading towards the quaint coffee shop that seemed to be the only open place at the current hour.

Your eyes hurt from crying. Your chest ached from sobbing and hiccuping. Your heart and head hurt as they came to blows with each other. You were slowly beginning to freeze as the calming of your emotions slowed your heart and cooled your body. It was so fucking cold.

You could use a coffee right about now.

~#~

Thank you for reading, reader! If you’d like to check out the rest of my work, feel free to visit my Masterlist!

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samtheflamingomain · 3 years ago

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25.21%

I've been sober for 3 months today. 92 days. 25.21% of 2021.

I could've posted more updates, more milestones (it took a LOT not to post on Day 69) but I wanted to kind of save it up for a Big Day. It was also a decent way to continue to incentivize my continued sobriety: a full pass to do a shameless, hardcore bragging sesh.

Anyway, this post comes in 2 parts: the TL;DR for those who only want the gist, then more in depth on my ability to stay sober, the lasting effects of rehab, etc.

I tried my damnedest to pare this absolute novel down, but it's long, so feel free to dip out if you just get bored. Onward!

TL;DR: I went to rehab the beginning of July for 3 weeks and haven't had a drop of alcohol since. I've lost weight, I'm more healthy, my daily anxiety level went from 8 to 2, I haven't had an anxiety attack in 3 months, and everything generally just seems... easier. My memory and concentration have improved. I've been productive and I've been meditating every day. I'm saving money, and while I sometimes fantasize about getting drunk, that's usually all it is.

Honestly, it's been much easier than I expected, but I think a lot of that is because for the first 3 weeks, the time in which I would usually break down and start drinking again when trying to get sober myself, was spent behind a locked door. So far I haven't had any days where I was close to giving in. I haven't had many days where I've been depressed about it, missing it or really tempted. Maybe 3-4. I've basically just gotten on with my life as if alcohol doesn't exist.

To wrap up the short version for those ready to peace out, I'll leave it with a bit of advice.

I don't feel qualified to give any specific advice, because my story feels very unique to me, and I honestly don't think what worked for me will work for MOST people. Sometimes people spend a year in rehab and still drive straight to the liquor store on their way home.

That said, there's one thing that I've found pretty universally true: you have to really want it. For a while, I floated about without much of a "reason" to stay sober. I don't have a spouse, kids or a job I've been fired from, so I didn't see the point.

It's taken me a while, but after not being "convinced" by a few superficial "reasons" like weight loss and saving money, I thought I needed something more... permanent? Consequential? I now realize that my "reason" for getting sober at a young age after only a few years of alcoholism is that I don't want it to get to a point where I'm hurting other people, drinking myself into multiple lasting health problems... I don't want it to become permanent or consequential.

Anyway, that's my two cents. If you do have something like kids or trouble keeping a job, definitely use that as your reason. But for anyone who's a pretty "functional" alcoholic like I was, "not letting it go on long enough to become disfunctional" is a good enough reason.

This is going to get stupid long, so feel free to walk away now, just glad you read this much and it really does mean the world when people listen to what I have to say.

Now some more things in depth. I'll go in chronological order: what made me get sober, what I took from rehab (and what I left), and how it's been the past few months.

I started drinking when I got kicked out, manic out of my mind and homeless unable to sleep. It took a while until I was able to sleep without alcohol, but by then the addict brain had taken over. I'd tried a few times to get sober myself, but I never made it more than a week without, and always got back to daily drinking after a few months maximum.

Some people need a "wake up call", a "last straw" or a "rock bottom". Something external to make them realize they can't go on as they are. For me, the catalyst was my health, which is more of an internal reason I suppose. I didn't have a heart attack or liver failure, but my anxiety was getting uncontrollable and I knew it was directly tied to my drinking.

My life had been starting to feel tolerable, and I was more financially secure than ever before. Things were looking up... except for the alcoholism. This is a weird analogy but the only one that makes sense to express why, if I was doing so well on paper, I decided to go to rehab: you have to sweep before you mop. If I hadn't been in the place I was, I don't think I would've been successful at rehab. I had to sweep up the cat turds from the floor of my life before I was able to mop up the shit stains with sobriety. I know, I'm a true wordsmith.

When I finally called the hotline that hooked me up with a bunch of different rehabs, I knew I was in for a wait. It was about 5 months from that call to checking in, which isn't too bad considering I've been on the waitlist for a neuropsychiatrist in ALL OF CANADA for 4 years.

That brings us to July 12th, Rehab Day One. I've gone in depth in multiple other posts but to touch on it briefly, if I had to describe my experience in a sentence I'd say "the place I went to got very lucky with me".

What this means is that, of the 5 people in my group, I think this exact program was only ever going to help me. At the same time, I didn't even know what I would need, but this exact program was 90% of it. I didn't think 3 weeks would be long enough, but for me it was. The hours-long, repetitive, basic-ass CBT groups held 5 times a day 7 days a week was absolute torture for everyone but myself. While it was a drag to spend an hour on defining what a cognitive distortion is, the routine and repetition, something I've never gotten out of any outpatient program, helped me to really absorb the information and let it rewire my brain.

I've always said that I'm someone who should be spending an hour a day with a therapist for the rest of my life, and while that's not even remotely feasible, this was as close as it's ever gotten, and it proved me right, because it worked. I've done biweekly therapy for a short time but even that didn't come close to the way my brain changed in those 3 short weeks.

This program required absolute commitment and open-mindedness. This isn't because it was hard work or difficult concepts, but quite the opposite. While I hate the entire concept of art therapy being used as a cure-all for mental illness, I willingly got out of my bed, went downstairs and tried doing a dot mandala for an hour because I'm willing to try anything to get better. A lot of people might think they are, but really aren't. To use the mandala as an example, one guy was really into it, I wasn't, but we both finished. The other 3 tried, messed up a few times, and then scrolled through their phones. When I say this program necessitates complete engagement, that's not a compliment. It shouldn't be a chore to engage with the program. It shouldn't take me actively saying "I know I've known this basic concept since 4th grade, but maybe hearing it again will help" to get something out of a rehab program. So again, in every way, I got lucky, and so did they.

Before I finish with the rehab section, having had a few months to reflect on the whole thing, I now have an endless list of things wrong with it. I arrived, greeted by the most jaded and disillusioned of staff, and quickly became disturbed and at points concerned with just how negligent the staff are.

Maybe it's because I've been on the psych ward where they won't even let you have shoelaces and shine a flashlight on your face every half hour through the night, but it could've been so incredibly easy to sneak in alcohol. I brought 2 full water bottles, fully expecting to have to dump them out upon arrival, but they said "nah it's fine". Is it though?

Then there were actual counsellors there who were... okay. I recall one, the one I thought was the smartest, reading a handout aloud and coming across the word "delve" as in "let's delve into..." and stumbled, then said she doesn't know that word. The room was silent. As she pulled up Google on the screen I said, "it means to dive into it". She Googled it anyway. Synonyms include "dive in". If that was the only example I wouldn't mention it, but this was the first of at least 10 words she had do Google, none past a 10th grade level, from HER OWN MATERIAL. From that point on it became clear that they had no fucking idea what they were doing.

We had one last one-on-one counselling session before we left and the counsellor just filled in boxes to questions on her computer, rephrasing everything I said to fit into the buzzwords and "lessons" we'd "learned". Example. Me: I do think I'm better able to catch myself thinking 'oh I can just have one drink' and say 'no I can't'." Her: "Okay, so would you say that you can recognize negative cognitive distortions like permission-giving thoughts and counter them with a more rational and less emotional mind?" Like girl, blink twice if your boss is holding your family hostage. She gave me some papers, detailing all the online courses they were signing me up for and options for more treatment they'd be sending me, a phone number to call and a phone appointment for the next Monday. I never got that call, the phone number is a hotline, I never got a single email from them, and given how shitty they really are at their jobs, I didn't feel the inclination to try and get those resources. If they even exist in the first place.

In summation, it was a place where it was physically impossible to get alcohol. That's really all I can say in its favor. Oh, and they let you have your cell phone.

Now on our timeline I'm back home. I want to kind of analyze why it's been easy for me.

I often said that my main goal of going to rehab was to lock me away from alcohol long enough for it to reset my brain. Most people thought that was naïve, but that's exactly what happened. But I'm well aware that my experience of "instantly became sober and literally hasn't had a single hard day in 3 months" is absurdly unusual.

I put this down to a few things. Firstly, I'm on seven different meds for my mental health. Almost all of them have their effects dulled or even eliminated when you drink. So when I noticed my mood, fatigue, memory, concentration etc all getting better at once - right about as I left rehab, I don't think it would be a stretch to say that all those meds started working properly.

Secondly, I've been keeping myself busy, but that's something I've always been good at. Now I specifically choose to undertake projects that will eat up a lot my time and put me in a state of flow. I recently made an entire card game from scratch, and let me tell you, I didn't think of alcohol for a week.

Thirdly, my other goals now get in the way of alcohol. I'm getting old and my body is deteriorating. But I've always wanted to do just one last season of gymnastics. Well, I need to lose weight for that to happen. I've already lost 35 pounds, and after another 20 I'll be ready to go. Also, I used to spend more on alcohol per month than rent. Even though I've done a few shopping sprees lately, I haven't come remotely close to how much I was spending before.

I want it more than anything. I want to be sober more than I want one night of "fun" that will more likely than not lead me back to where I was a year ago. I never want to need anything as much as I needed alcohol.

Lastly, just a few more random thoughts.

A lot of people, myself included, worried about the fact that I work at a bar as a cook, but honestly the entire time I'm there I'm thinking about food, not alcohol. If I'm hanging out with some regulars before/after, I can watch them drink and be perfectly fine with my coffee, because the coffee is $2, and I used to spend $20 after every work shift.

I also decided in rehab to start taking better care of myself as best I could. This started with getting my second vax which I'd been putting off, then an eye appointment, then new glasses, then a dentist appointment where I was informed I need to do $3000 worth of work on my implant that's erroding my bone matter, so that sucks, but I caught it early. I've also been meditating every day. In just 3 months, I've made pretty big improvements to my self-care and my daily routine.

One of my fears about sobriety was "missing out" on "having fun". A few days ago, all my housemates got together to play Mario Party, and it was kind of my first night doing something social while sober. It was a breath of fresh air - I wasn't constantly running to piss, I didn't worry about running out of alcohol, I didn't get sloppy and obnoxious as I can sometimes do. I even came very very close to winning my first game of MP. When I reflected on the night, I realized that, if I'd been getting drunk the whole time, I would've sucked at the minigames, been a hindrance to anyone unfortunate enough to be teamed with me, and likely would've stopped caring about the game itself after the first few turns.

Yesterday I was making my 4th pot of coffee of the day when I realized there was a full glass of wine just sitting on the counter. I had absolutely no idea where the hell it came from - nobody in my house drinks wine. I shrugged and poured that sweet sweet bean juice. It was only when I sat down and took a sip of coffee did I find myself thinking automatically, "this tastes so much better than wine". I only realized then that it had been rose wine, the only kind I've ever been able to tolerate. It was the ultimate moment of possible temptation, and the thought of just chugging that glass - as I may've done in the past - didn't even cross my mind.

I'm so glad to be where I am. I'm about to undergo some serious financial changes - i.e. going absolutely broke - but drinking isn't gonna help that, so I'm cautiously optimistic.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

#rehab #alcoholism #alcohol tw #sam #recovery #sobriety

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written-beyond-the-grave · 5 years ago

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Da Vinci Code

Word Count: 5,900

Warnings: Mild cursing (btw reader is black b/c SOMEONE had to to do it to em)

I wanna be bold and tag my favorite accounts here so: @writing-prompt-s @madamslayyy @saitamastamaticsoup @canumoveurseatup-no @twilightpocfans @cassandraclare @momolady @imaginepoc @hoe-imaginess

Summer, or as the new generation of civilization deemed it “cuffing season” or “act out season”. Something about warmer weather and not being at an educational facility for eight hours straight for a good three months seemed to always bring out the risque in people. As expected kids and teens would be roaming around the cul-de-sac, some playing basketball in their parent's driveway and others participating in double-dutch competitions on chalk illustrated sidewalks. And as the adolescents played Wallace D. Nolwazi would be miles away from home at the NASA space station in California, soaking up the sun and meticulously building her resume. At least, that what she expected.

The rumbling of the wagon behind her was no match for the choir of raindrops that began to pelt onto the concrete, what had started as a mild drizzle shortly became a full-blown thunderstorm that Wallace’s poncho was no match for.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Correction: A full-blown thunderstorm with a flood watch in effect warning.

Earlier in the year, Wallace had applied to NASA’s Bright Minds of Today™ Summer Camp were ten lucky applicants were flown out to Pasadena, California for a seven-week exclusive boot camp on the inner workings of NASA. Completed with free room and board, transportation, and a weekly allowance. The ad for the summer camp had been almost too good to be true until Wallace decided to call its coordinators. With confirmation that the program was legit, she meticulously began to work on the programs required an essay on what were the benefits and dangers of new technology rising today. She even emailed her teachers and counselor four weeks in advance for recommendations which contrasted from her usual last-minute nature. To say that she was pumped would have been an understatement after she got a call while attempting to rewire an old computer hard drive that she has been accepted into the program after an over the phone interview.

She was going on a long vacation away from her doting and nosey family, At least, that’s what she hoped until her hope was plucked out her hands like a mean babysitter to a baby’s lollipop.

A sudden loud crack of thunder startled Wallace enough to have her already misshapen glasses drop to the ground into a rushing stream caused by the lack of grass in the area. Pausing, she fished out the glasses and continued on her way back home.

Without her knowledge, Wallace’s mother had planned for her aunt Leila to stay over the summer while she attended an important retreat for the medical board at Bayhealth Hospital. To say that Wallace didn’t expect this to happen would be an understatement, her mother or Maureen as she usually addressed her was notorious for pulling last-minute dips on her plans. But this was the one plan in a while that she specifically discussed with her mother beforehand on the prospect of potentially getting admitted to the program. But, her mother brushed it off with little regret saying that there would be a “next time”.

‘Next time’. Heh.

The phrase next time played on in her head as she entered the already opened garage thoroughly soaked from the ongoing storm. The wagon Wallace had been pulling was long forgotten next to a pile of some scrap metal and a blow torch. Making her way from the garage to the basement took less than twenty steps, it took even shorter to get into the shower considering Wallace had begun to undress once she had left the garage. The rain had made her skin crawl and feel as if there were imaginary ants running along her skin. The cold water and rhythmic beating of the showerhead help her predicament.

Wallace always kept a set of spare clothes in the basement for when she needed them, she seemed to always be in the basement and garage so it was only fitting. Being careful to only drip onto the carpet she took a look into the mirror, honey eyes immediately locked onto her faux locs that were beginning to unravel. To any other person they would have looked freshly done, but Wallace was meticulous over her hair and decided against trying to fix it herself. Knowing well that her hands were a menace to her our hair, vividly remembering the accident of ‘06 at Cardinal Junior High. Her eyes narrowed at the memory as she quickly got dressed in dry clothes and put her hair up.

Compelled to not waste any more time Wallace stepped to a large steel table and sat on the cool wooden stool pulling forward a dull wooden box. Reaching in she delicately pulled out a worn looking pocket watch that admittedly weighed quite a bit in her hand. Its previously blindly gold exterior was tarnished to gray-blue corrosion that had compromised some the gears inside. Taking a moment to gaze at the antique item, the arms weren’t moving and were stuck at 11:22, putting down the watch Wallace moved the ring light above her into place and turned it on. Without looking up her hand reached across the table to pull a magnifying scope right above the watch.

Opening the watch, she set the magnifying scope to a lens best suited to look at its gears. Some were missing and burned out, pursing her lips in curiosity Wallace stepped off her chair and went digging through her wagon. Only picking objects she deemed acceptable and helping her fix the watch. Wallace deconstructed other clocks and gears from different machines from the junkyard that she raided and shaped them down to size with her father's power saw and other tools in the garage. Stuck in her own little world, she hadn’t noticed the moon made an appearance hours ago.

It was around midnight when Wallace’s mother, Maureen came home. The day at the hospital was a rough one indeed, an abundance of trauma patients came in and out of hospital doors and her brain was just about fried by the end of the day. Pocketing her keys, she opened the front door telephone wire and shut the door behind her while putting her purse down.

“Wallace,” she called, thinking nothing of her daughter's absence. She walked herself up the stairs to her room, but not before passing Wallace's was she picked open and called her name again, “Wallace!” Letting herself in she looked around meticulously, where was her daughter? She went to the window to see if anyone was outside but her nerves were rest assured when she saw a light coming from the garage out in the back.

“Wallace!”

Without looking up she quipped back, “What.”

“Don’t what me. It’s ‘yes mom’,” Wallace’s mother crossed her arms as her eyes narrowed at her daughter hunched over form in the garage.

“Yes, Maureen.”

Sighing and rolled her eyes, “I’ve been calling you all around the house for-”

Wallace not being one for aimless chatter, “What did you need.” There was a brief silence that seemed to stretch on.

Maureen licked her bottom lip and took a calming breath, “Wallace I am your mother－”

Mentally rolling her eyes at the revelations, she continued tinkering with the watch in her hand.

“－And as your mother I deserve, better yet you owe me your respect－”

Laughable.

“－Secondly, did you eat dinner? The pasta and chicken I left in the fridge for you is still there.”

Wallace’s figure relaxed a bit, “I had dinner at the Hinode’s. Mrs. Hinode said ‘hi’’.”

“You sure,” Maureen walked closer to Wallace and glanced over at the table unsurprised to see she was doing God knows what with that watch, “And why are you still playing around with that old thing? I know it was grandpa Leroy’s, but that thing’s been busted for a while now.”

Wallace didn’t know why her mother always told her this, like a broken record, every time she came into the garage to find her fixing the old watch. It was a waste of breath in Wallace’s mind since it yielded the same results. She subconsciously clutched the watch tighter in her hand. Grandpa Leroy was her father’s father, he was her father when Maureen’s boyfriend went awol at the altar. Leroy stepped in and helped raise Wallace like his own, he even used to stay with her mother for months at a time. He was the one who got Wallace into technology and fixing things when he first saw her attempting to fix a VCR that had accidentally fallen off a table while playing soccer in the house. It was a good thing that her grandfather used to be an electrician in his working days.

He was the glue that held everything together, up until his untimely death two years ago on a cruise ship sailing around Scandinavia and Europe. The specifics were never explained, but the doctors told her mother that he died of natural causes in his sleep. Since then the usually happily tolerable relationship between Maureen and Wallace had taken a sharp turn. It was beginning to feel like tying a shoe, but instead of looping the strings they were being pulled in opposite directions. Maureen began to shut down by taking more hours at the hospital. Leaving Wallace at home most days for hours on end.

Wallace had a different way of dealing with things than her mother, she became a recluse. Keeping herself in her room or library reading all her grandfather's favorite books. It was Charges: A Retrospect into the Quantum World by M.H. Lyernoff that started her fixation on her grandfather's watch. It was where she found the watch, behind the fake back on one of the shelves in the library behind M.H. Lyernoff’s book. It seemed like any old pocket watch hidden away until Wallace noticed the engraving on the curve of the watch. It was rubbed off but still legible: It’s only as real you make it. Something that grandpa Leroy always used to tell her when she let others make her feel inferior, and the something that got her into the garage some nine months ago into fixing the watch and later restoring it.

She put a comforting hand on Wallace’s shoulder, “It can’t even tell time properly with how it was designed.”

And Maureen was correct, the clock had hands, however not the standard number system. The clock had roman numerals, but it also had a second system under. It was compass-like with engraved circles and dots, but everything was written in a language that vaguely looked like English. Wallace couldn’t figure out what type of manufacturer would make clocks this confusing, or why her grandfather would ever have it in his possession, all she knew was that the compass contraption was supposed to move most likely in synchronicity with the clock above.

Wallace craned her neck around to meet her mother's eyes, "Is that all?" Quite frankly she was beginning to get a little bit antsy in her mom's close proximity to her. There was always something about being in her presence for a set amount of time that unnerved her.

Another stood there from your seconds contemplating what was wrong with Wallace, she was usually irritable yes. But nothing to level like she is at the moment. Choosing to talk about this another day her mother left the scene to go get ready for bed.

Wallace's figure visibly relaxed as she heard from others retreating but steps.

‘Finally’, she thought. ‘I can have some peace and quiet to actually work on this thing.’

And that's how the rest of the week went. Wallace would at times take impromptu trip to the junkyard come back home to her garage and work on her grandfather's pocket watch. Then her mom will come looking for her ask her usual suspect questions of whether she ate or not and drank water then would be on her merry way.

That was until Tuesday evening when a bright pink Chevrolet rolled up in front of the house with bags threatening to fall out the back seats, all driven by a woman with large boho sunglasses and a tightly braided bun. Wallace stared at her from her seat on the couch in the living room with her nearly finished bowl of cereal. Her mother had left three hours before her aunt’s arrival, she knew that she’d be staying for the majority of the summer, but it looked like aunt Leila packed enough for two summers.

When Leila stepped out of her car right into a ray of light Wallace didn’t know what was more blinding: the way her aunt’s skin glowed or the diamond rings that casted a disco reflection. Wallace let Leila in and automatically she shoved her mini handbag into Wallace’s arms.

“Hello, Wally! How’s my favorite niece?” She gave Wallace a toothy grin and walked herself into the kitchen, without waiting for a reply she added, “Be a doll and help get my bags from out the car will you? Thanks.”

Wallace grimaced. Out of all the people, it had to be her. Begrudgingly she went back outside and lugged her aunt’s luggage into the house making sure to drag it someway into the entrance. Wallace entered the kitchen to find her aunt was making herself quite “at home” by treating herself to a slice of cheesecake with a side of strawberry ice cream.

Mid bite her aunt muffled, “Did yuh geh uem?”

Wallace nodded, “I’ll be in the garage if you need me,” and made a b-line for the garage in back but her aunt was quicker.

“Hold on there, Wally.”

She paused halfway out the door.

“Where does your mom keep her Rosé?”

“Bottom draw to your left,” and with that she was gone.

For the past week Wallace had been making staggering advancements in getting the old watch to work. Once she troubleshooted some issues with the gears, re-oiled it, and gave it a new shine it was almost working at full capacity. The only problem was getting the button on top the watch to press down to be able to open the glass screen. She had been fussing over it for hours, not wanting to use too much applied force and end up breaking the piece.

The sun was just beginning to set over the horizon when the watch in question she had been fingering nearly fell, in quick action Wallace caught her grandfather’s watch in an awkward angle where her thumb pushed the button around that elicited a ‘click’. Astoundingly looking at how easy Wallace’s predicament was solved she pressed the top of the watch hoping to open the screen protector. But that never happened, nothing happened for the first few seconds until everything in Wallace’s vicinity began to occur in slow motion. The kid who was going at a moderate speed down the cul-de-sac was now at a turtle's pace.

Wallace’s honey eyes widened. She felt as if her body was vibrating and her brain rattling. Not physically of course, but internally or metaphysically. The world around her began to flow first slowly then all at once, it became a blue of bright colors. Purples, reds, pinks, greens, and yellows swirled around her as if she were in a cocoon of ribbons. She tightly closed her eyes, looking at all of it made her knees buckle and heart race, ‘What the hell?’

At last the spinning sensation stopped and she opened her eyes, however she swiftly closed them again due to the powerful rays of the sun. Raising her hand for some protection against it she took a view of her surroundings.

‘What.. the fuck?’

She was confused, as would be any teenager who was at one second in her garage then in another in a field crowded with tall grass and vibrant flowers. In the distance she heard a clanking noise. Turning around, Wallace noticed a herd of cattle freely grazing and near that was a farm. And a farm always meant people. Giving the field one last tired look Wallace began her trek towards the farm, but not before pulling out her phone to check the date and time. It seemed like it was still Tuesday and about 4:53 in the evening, she unlocked her phone to see if she could get any signal, but the page was taking a while to load.

Looking over at the barn as she got closer Wallace noticed how old school and run down it looked, in a few years it would be down for sure.

“Hello?” Wallace shouted.

“Helloooooo…”

She creaked open the barn door slightly to see nothing but stacks of hay and the putrid scent of manure to greet her nostrils. Scrunching up her nose she let herself in and took a look around. It was out of place for Wallace to see a farm, but no tractor or electric plow of some sort. There wasn’t even a grain silo or a water mill.

‘Maybe I’m in the Amish country… But that wouldn’t explain how I left my garage without physically moving…’

Wallace was halfway through the farm until her ears picked up a shuffling noise, abruptly stopping she turned her head towards the disturbance.

She cautiously called out again, “Hello? I heard that you know…” She pushed her glasses up her sweaty nose, “Anyone there?”

CLANK. CLANK. SHUFFLE.

Her head turned sharply to the side, there it was again… Looking down she saw a decent sized rock picking it up Wallace aimed it at the large stack of hay near of the walls. The rock went straight through the hay, but out came a small scream and a loud thud. A tall figure emerged from the hay speaking in a rapid language that Wallace was in no way mentally ready to process.

‘What’s the universal sign for stop?’ Wallace shushed the figure, which was male with shoulder length curly hair and broad shoulders. She held out her hands in a ‘no harm’ manner to try and calm whoever it was down.

On the other end of the stick, the man was breathing heavily with a sweat soaked shirt covered in dirt and paint.

“N- non volevo sp- spaventarti. Cosa stai facendo qui, eh?” They boy stuttered out. He was staring at his feet then slowly looked up, and his face went pale. “Chi diavolo sei?” His eyes gauged at her like he had never seen a gir－ no a lady such as the one stand before him. He took in her clothing, she was wearing trousers which was anything unlike her ever saw. And they were tight. They made a splash of color recover onto his cheeks. Her hair was long and curly, but they look like impossibly thick strings of pasta coiling down her face. But her skin, that was the most starting things about her. He had seen paintings of angels rendered with pale as snow skin and golden hair colored hair, but the lady before him pushed that all out of the water. She stool clad in sepia skin that glistened with sweat from the walk she had to take from the field. The boy was at a lost for words, here stood an imitation of an angel that embodied the brown sepia tones of the earth all around her and was a reflection of gold itself while in the light.

Wallace stepped a bit closer, she sported a dirty look on her face. The man in front of her stared as if he had never seen a person with brown skin before. Let it be known though she may have scared him she wouldn’t mind knocking out his teeth with her foot it need be. Setting those thoughts aside she came to a conclusion:

“Hello, can you understand me?” If she heard what she thought she thought was Italian, then it’d solve one mystery.

“Sì.” Bingo, Italian just as she thought, though it was more… archaic than she remembered.

“Where am I?”

“M-Milan Italia, on the countryside... Who are you lady?”

‘Italy, huh? Not possible’, but she dismissed it nonetheless. “My name is Wallace, Wallace Nohlwazi. And who are you?” ‘At least I know that Italian soap opera shows on Netflix are doing their job.’

The boy let out an anxiously laugh and relaxed a bit, “My name is－”

He was cut off as a steel rod suddenly propelled out the stack of hay, promptly knocking it down. In the moment you don’t know what moved faster, the stranger that tackled you out the way or the steel rod that embedded itself deeply into the way behind you.

The boy was deceptively heavy on top of you, but didn’t take to notice, “My name is Leonardo, Leonardo da Vinci.” Your eyes widened… then you began to laugh leaving a confused yet concerned face on the boy dubbed the Leonardo da Vinci.

“You have to be joking… da Vinci? Pfft.” You continued your laughter, “Is your name really Leonardo da Vinci? The painter?”

Leonardo gave you a careful sideways smile, “... Yes miss…”

The laughing wasn’t completely out of your system until you noticed the hunk of metal that behind the hay, Leonardo noticed your eyes zeroing in on something behind him. Once he noticed what it was he began panicking and speaking in rapid Italian. There were scraps of metal melded into a large watch connected to gold coins and what looked like to be a handmade wire lifted up into the sky, the gadget wouldn’t be as astounding if it weren’t for the fact that it was vibrating creating a noticeable ‘hum’ that was yet present.

“Oh dear, you shouldn't have seen that... did del Verrocchio send you?” The tall man squabbled on.

The ping of your phone alerted you, ignoring the Italian painter going mad, you reached into you back pocket and unlocked the screen. There, in bold lettering stood a wifi connection that should not be possible in the 1400’s.

CONNECT: IϽNIΛ ∀ᗡ

Taking a moment to tune out the yelling da Vinci, you came to the only possible line appropriate for the situation at hand.

“Absolutely not.”

“－he usually sends one of his men to check up on m－”

Wallace refused to believe that she had somehow got transported into the mid-1400s in Italy, and had met the Leonardo DaVinci. The future, or rather past famous artist and inventor. The whole ordeal seem preposterous to Wallace, at least that's what she wanted to believe. It was a single question of how she got there… grandfather Leroy. Wallace quickly dug into her inner jacket pocket and pulled out the pocket watch. She stared at it critically oh, how could this thing send her miles away from her home and hundreds of years before her time on Earth? But most of all how did her grandfather get his hands on this?

“－just so I’ll abandon my ideas… my greatess works－”

Wallace's mind began to buzz with many theories and accusations of how her grandfather got this watch and how it could possibly work. But, for those hypotheticals it would mean a lifetime of advanced mathematics and science, not to mention quantum mechanics. The bending of time calculated with the speed and bending of light and all acting upon the Earth’s laws of physics? It would have taken over a hundred lifetimes to figure that out even with the most brilliant of minds. At least Wallace thought so.

Suppressing her anxiety and fear, Wallace willed her mind to be still and focused. If it was the watch that got hurt here, then maybe it could take her back. With the shaky hand she pressed her thumb down on the button of the watch and waited... and waited some more... and a couple of more seconds until she realized that nothing, absolutely nothing would happen. Had the watch broken again? Internally this was not sitting well with Wallace's gut.

"－and the Church, Christ almighty…"

"Hey… he－HEY!" She tried to get the attention of Leonardo as he was in a moment of an existential crisis. 'Man, does he talk a lot.' She had to find topic that would catch the young inventors attention, that's a pretty neat electrical resonant transformer circuit you've made…" She saw his form stiffen, "Tell me Leonardo, how long did it take you to invent this circuit that produces high-voltage, low-current, high frequency alternating-current electricity? The Church must be furious…"

Leonardo turn back to face Wallace, for a second his face was serious and calculating her choosing his next words carefully, "You know of science? So I am understanding that you are not one of del Verrocchio men, er women." He visibly relaxed at the conclusion, "And yes it is a circuit that produces alternating-current electricity. It took years to make… But what would you know of any of this?"

Leonardo' s question hung in the air and Wallace wasn't sure if he was asking because he was just curious, or if she was just a girl or even possibly both. Wallace Wade the pros and cons of her next actions. She also replayed every time travel movie that she had ever seen: Back to the Future, Hot Tub Time Machine, Men in Black, and Meet the Robinsons. Granted Meet the Robinsons didn't have the main character travels back into the past, but into the future, however, it was still one of Wallace's favorite films next to Mulan in the Disney category. Wallace telling Leonardo small increments of the future well in the past could have a large effect on the future and her would be present. But, if she wanted to get her whole watch situation figured out and fixed and on her way home as soon as possible. She hoped her judgment on his character was good enough.

"Do you have a private place to talk?"

It turns out that the young da Vinci lived and a farmhouse a little ways away from the barn. According to Leonardo he was doing an understudy, or an apprenticeship under Andrea del Verrocchio who was a Florentine painter. The farmhouse on the countryside was a modest size, yet dull and decoration and color. However it was stuck to the brim with finish portraits, sculptures and other types of art. When Leonardo and Wallace arrived at the house, Wallace found it odd that Leonardo's teacher was present. Leonardo explained that Verrocchio would take impromptu trips into the city to talk to our clients and leave him to his own devices, expecting him to paint and do nothing more. Accepting his answer, they both took seats in the living room on some slightly torn cushioned chairs; Wallace began her story. She told him of the watch, it's configurations, her origins etc, but she was careful not to mention how he would soon become famous in the future.

She talked for hours going into detail into each and every action and explanation she could think of how she got here. Wallace hope that she wasn't losing Leonardo, but by the looks of his face he was hanging on to her every word. Leonardo's face looks spaced out the still focused, his body subconsciously lean towards Wallace's over the table as he had his head leading on his hand for support. By the end of the story she was desperately out of breath.

“And that’s how I got here,” she panted and pushed her locs off her face, “Diagnosis?”

He scanned her with his eyes more a moment, “You are not crazy, at least I am fairy sure of it… You mentioned this watch, may I see it?”

She stared him down, if she wanted to get back to her time. She reached into her pocket and pulled it out, Leonardo gently took it from her hands and examined it. Expertly moving his fingers around each curve and edge of the timepiece he pressed the top button of the watch before Wallace could warn him. As before, nothing happened, time didn’t slow down and the physical world didn’t dissipate.

Humming to himself, he pried open the watch to show the compass like map on the second interface of the pocket watch. ‘Latin,’ he thought ot himself thankful he had been forced to learn the language as a child. The more that he stared at the compass the more it began to make sense. He suddenly got up from his chair that startled Wallace.

“Follow me,” he mumbled going through the maze that was called a house. Soon they both stood upon a large door made of oak, pulling out a key from one of his pockets Leonardo unlocked the door, and held it open for Wallace motioning for her to enter.

“Thanks,” Leonardo nodded. Stepping in Wallace marveled at the chaos that was the mystery room. It was filled with misplaced papers written in Italian and some Latin with designs on it, she noticed one in particular as the flying machine. If anything Wallace realized how history down played Leonardo da Vinci, to her his mind seemed like a real time working machine from the future trapped in the body of the past. Wallace gravitated to Leonardo who was standing in from of a large atlas map, she tried to piece together what she saw to no avail.

He concluded, “It’s a constellation map.” And then quickly moved on to another wall full equation scratched out and rewritten in ink, eyes quickly going over every possible formula.

Wallace moved closer to the Italian, “Ok, and what about it?”

“Your Nonno, I mean grandfather had this as a placement for time. The way that you position the circle and ledger help pinpoint where on Earth you want to be and at what time of day,” he patiently explained inhaling her scent of vanilla and fresh cotton, “And the clock is for what year you wish to be sent you whether past or present.”

Wallace was slowly connecting the dots, “So, the reason why it didn’t work when you pressed the button was because it was already set to a time and place I’m at?”

He nodded, “If you know your direct coordinates I can set it back to your home in America.”

Without missing a beat, “39° 57' 9.2988'' N and 75° 9' 54.7992'' W.” It was the IP address ingrained in her memory if she ever needed. Leonardo took the number and manually set the compass into its coordinates and it was done, he handed her back the clock.

“That is all, you are welcome to go back home.”

Wallace idly looked at the watch in her hands, then back at Leonardo. In a flash she was giving him a spine breaking hug as thanks, “I am so happy I got stuck in the mid-1400’s with one of the brightest minds.” Leonardo’s body was stiff upon receiving the hug, but slowly relaxed and gave her an awkward pat on the back.

“No problem Wallace, you were not meant to be here anyway.”

She broke the hug, “I guess you’re right,” there was a ghost smile on her face, “I guess I’ll see you later?”

He chuckled, he’d be long gone by then but he’s miss his short term acquaintance.

“I guess you will.”

And with a literal flash she was gone from his eyes. Leonardo sat back in his chair with a huff, he needed a drink. A pretty girl who just materialized out his vision, and an insanely logical story all within one day was too much for his mind. He moved himself upstairs to his dainty room full of paint and a bottle of liquor on his painting table. He sat himself down a and took a swig trying to calm his nerves, if that was a warning from God Himself to stop messing with the universe via his inventions then he was surely listening in. Taking the pencil that was settled atop his desk he began drawing random figures among the page.

The day he had, and the person he met were both highly… remarkable, but worrisome at most. For now he knew that science was by no means a myth, but a working subject matter that could bend the will of time and space. Also meaning that his theories on time travel had to be revamped. Putting the bottle down from his lips he pulled down a design for a similar watch that Wallace had, however it was bigger in stature and made to look like a sundial. There were too many synchronicities to his liking, he glanced down back at his hand.

There stood among the small sketches of ravens, hummingbirds, and trees a mini shoulder length portrait of Wallace. ‘The imitation angel,’ he thought to himself. Leonardo leaned back into his chair and blankly stared up at his cracked ceiling, a plethora of thoughts roamed his mind, but he couldn’t help think about crossing paths with Wallace again. Her knowledge and what she could teach him on his bulky electric conductor, deep down he knew that meeting her wasn’t a coincidence. He didn't believe in coincidences. But also also didn’t believe in seeing her again, his eyes glanced at the canisters of paint that littered his other desk, physically that is.

Wallace’s feet met solid ground, then her knees buckled beneath her. Not willing to take any chances, she dug for her phone to see the times as 7:32 in the evening just about the time she had left. She sighed in contentment, she was finally home, but something deep within her told her it was far from over. Whatever this was.

She stared at the pocket watch in her hand. ‘This thing is dangerous and by no means a toy… I don’t know how grandpa Leroy got his hands on it or why he didn’t break it earlier. It would be best for me to destroy it.’ Wallace weighed her options, the watch could bend time and potentially cause some type of world ending danger. Her thoughts were briefly interrupted by her aunt’s loud talking.

“Girl, she got me up her in the suburbs watching her child… I know, I know she a whole doctor she coulda hired a nanny. Best thing is I get to live lavish for the summer while my man traveli－Sis, I told you he gon visit me whenever his lil’ business trip done with, I’m sure my sister won’t mind the extra body.”

Wallace’s body visually shivered, ‘Leila’ she thought in disgust. She turned to the open garage door and admired the soft wind flowing in and the cotton candy and mango colored skies above her. She wasn’t scheduled for anything big this summer, her plans for NASA were in the trash, quite literally. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breathe, ‘I should really destroy this thing,’ she clenched the watch in her hand, ‘But, then again… it is “act out season” for a reason…’ Opening her eyes she stared down at the watch.

She looked at her horizon one more time and watched as the clouds moved impossible slow out of frame and dissipate into strikingly bold colors that put Wallace mind into a frenzy. And soon enough Wallace disappeared from her place in the garage, going with only one thing in mind.

‘Maybe Leonardo might need a muse.’

#writing prompt #writing #black girl #black!reader #black reader #time travel #poc reader #woc reader

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the-perverse-library · 15 days ago

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The seven beauties were all resting in the hot tub. Orihime grinned as she tightened the strings on her blue-and-white striped bikini. "I'm Orihime Inoue, and my truth is that I love fucking Hollows. The more tentacles, the better." The orangette beamed with pride as she admitted to hunting for Hollows to seduce the monstrous spirits.

"Interesting." Nemu bluntly stated as she adjusted her swimsuit. "Does your act of seduction change them?"

Orihime grinned. "No. They just haunt my apartment rather than attack innocents." Orihime answered. "But a few did become Arrancar.... reminds me of my time in Ulqiourra's custody."

"Fascinating!" Nemu was beyond intrigued at this new avenue for Hollow development.

"... Okay, I'm choosing to ignore that." Soi Fon visibly shuddered at Orihime's... infatuation with monsters. "I'm Soi Fon, and my truth is... I've always been jealous of busty women!" The flat chested ninja blushed a deep-red as she attempted to cup her tiny breasts in her black-gold string bikini.

"Well, on behalf of the gals with cowtits, if we could share the love we would." Rangiku remarked before sandwiching Soi Fon's face deep into her cleavage.

"G-hahhh! U-unhand me!!!" The kunoichi squealed as she spanked Rangiku's ass repeatedly.

Rukia just cleared her throat, trying and failing to ignore the erotic battle a captain and fellow lieutenant were engaged in. "I am Rukia Kuchiki, and my truth is that I love sex. According to Renji, Ichigo, and all of my subordinates; I fuck like a rabbit in heat constantly." The dainty ravenette sighed she as she slipped two fingers under her bunny-themed swimsuit and started to finger herself as she leered at Soi Fon wrap her thighs around Rangiku's face to smother the blonde.

"I am astounded at just how depraved Shinigami are." Tia coldly remarked as she looked to Nemu.

"Agreed. The Twelfth Division has been dedicated to rewiring Lieutenant Kuchiki's brain." Nemu informed the Espada. "But, our efforts haven't yielded any major results. Not even using reiastu to inflate her hasn't stopped her from trying to be fucked by anything with a pulse."

Nelly took the opportunity to speak up. "I'm Nel Tu, and my truth is that I love watching people have sex." The greenette dreamily admitted as she ogled Rukia, Soi Fon, and Rangiku. "Something about that primal need and passion just really satisfies me."

"Really? Oh, than I just know who to call when I'm with Ichigo!" Rukia beamed, sharing the delight in Nel's voyeuristic nature.

"Tell me about it." Tia grumbled. "Every other day, I catch her spying on me and my Fraccion." The mocha-skinned beauty grumbled as Nel blew her a kiss. "Any way, I'm Tia Harribel and my truth is that use water to enhance my curves when I fuck."

Nemu quirked an eyebrow. "Does that only augment your size or are there other benefits?" The ravenette looked over every inch of Tia to see if there had been any change to her body while in the hot tub.

"... I can get more sensitive the larger I grow, but that's it." Tia begrudgingly answered with a slight blush. The Espada looked at the quiet lieutenant of the Twelfth Division with a firm gaze. "You're so interested in everyone else, what is your one truth?"

Nemu was unphased by Tia's attempted intimidation. "Oh, I guess I am playing, so I should contribute. I am Nemu Kurotsuchi, and my truth is that sex fascinates me, and I research it as much as I can when I can. I am driven by a ravenous desire to experience new and greater pleasures each and every day."

Tia just sighed. "You're as bad as Nel or the tiny one fingering herself stupid... Just my luck." The Espada grumbled quietly to themselves.

"Hardly. Rukia Kuchiki is a severely affected sex addict and I am a woman who merely wishes to know just how much pleasure I can achieve with one or more partners." Nemu calmly rebuked the Arrancar. "I can be patient and gentle, if Rukia isn't fucked often, she becomes manic and needy."

The conversation between Nemu and Tia was interrupted by Rangiku finally freeing herself from Soi Fon's muscled thighs. "Gah! I'm Rangiku Matsumoto, and my truth is I love being punished! I don't care how or who, I just love being put in my place!" The blonde grinned as she blew a kiss at Soi Fon, only for the petite ravenette to spank her ass in response.

Bleach Presents: Inflation Island (Closed Rp with @the-perverse-library)

"Blackthorne Island. A remote island out in the distant sea. The stage for our new show." A voice rings our as a well dressed man walks out in front of a camera. A serene and friendly smile covering his face as he speaks. "An island I also happen to own, for those of you who do not know me. Happens to hold one of the most prestigious 5-star resorts known to bot Humanity and the Spirit World, given the people who have been invited here." The man continues to say as the camera pans out to a sweeping view of the island and the resort.

"Today, seven women will be arriving to compete for a cash prize of 10 million dollars. All they have to do, is live here and partake in the many........well, lewd and kinky challenges I have planned for them." He says as a mischievous twinkle forms in his eyes as he moves to a pier at the entrance to the resort. "Will they have the willpower to survive long enough to make it to the end? Or will they succumb to their lusts and be forced to leave the challenge? Find out now, as our contestants are already beginning to arrive." The man says as the camera turns to face the pier, as a boat begins to approach off the horizon.

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pyrebright · 5 years ago

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Some specific geographic headcanon guidelines for the Downfall Timeline include…

Kokiri Forest – The forest actually suffered a lot of infrastructure damage from monster attacks, and the trees were barren for quite some time. Fortunately, the establishment of contact between the resident Kokiri and the outside world, following the sealing of Ganon and the Triforce, means that there is plenty of help to be had rebuilding child-sized infrastructure and removing monsters. The trees have begun to recover as well, bearing more and larger fruit and regaining their green foliage.

Lost Woods – More sinister and winding than ever before. The very trees and branches seem to reach out, now, trying to snag and strangle any visitors, Kokiri or otherwise, who dare to enter. Even the resident Skull Kids are beginning to feel the labyrinth’s wrath, with many emerging from the dense thickets, and taking shelter with the Kokiri instead. It is highly recommended that one does not enter, unless they are in the company of one of the Sages, or another particularly powerful magic-user.

Death Mountain – Nearly erupted under Volvagia’s onslaught, but fortunately, Link. Still, many smaller magma plumes breached the surface during the battle, so the topography of the area has changed a lot. It’s not dangerous anymore, but it is different.

Goron City – Some of those magma plumes burst out and flowed through the city; not so much a problem for lava-proof Gorons. More for their Bomb Flower crops, which, err… there were a lot of rockfalls. The city is in rough shape in more of a topographical sense; new rock formations caused by lava flowing through the city, fallen rock from the cavern roofs, etc. The Gorons, fortunately, ever resilient and cheery people, can see the silver lining of this, and are working to turn the new features into helpful or fun things.

Dodongo’s Cavern – Much the same as Goron City; there are new structures here, caused by pyroclastic flows and rockfalls, but it’s largely unchanged, and the creatures making their home there don’t seem to mind the new topography much.

Zora’s River – The flash-flooding common to the river due to rapid, erratic snow and ice melt in Zora’s Fountain is beginning to taper off, with the Domain and Fountain thawed and no longer freezing over. The ecosystem has shifted toward something more lotic than lentic, with monsters such as aquatic Deku Babas taking over from the free-floating Octoroks that had previously been buzzing about in the slower flow.

Zora’s Domain – Still recovering from being frozen; a lot of the wildlife was not happy with the drop in temperature, so the Zoras are finding themselves having to basically rewire the ecosystem from Step One. Fortunately, Lakeside Laboratory’s Professor is quite knowledgeable when it comes to aquatic species, and is helping to kick-start the process. The rocks have been broken in some places by the freezing water that seeped into them, but physical damages were kept to a minimum by the nature of the area.

Zora’s Fountain – Also recovering from very cold temperatures. Many of the same problems as the Domain, as well as fewer pulsed water events; the Fountain no longer freezes and thaws in unpredictable cycles, rendering Gerudo Valley and Zora’s River less prone to flash-flooding than they have been.

Lake Hylia – Remains largely unchanged, thank goodness. The lake is still full of clear, pure water, and now that the level has returned to normal, it’s a good reservoir for the thirsty populace.

Gerudo Valley – The bridge has been rebuilt, and the transport of supplies to the Fortress can now continue. It’s a nice change, being able to get wagons across again; the bucket-and-pulley system previously used did not work so well. The gorge is also less prone to flash-flooding now that Zora’s Fountain has stopped the rapid freeze-thaw cycle started by warring magical energies.

Haunted Wasteland – Not much has changed in terms of climate and harshness, but it is, like the rest of Hyrule, subject to more frequent monster. The main focus for the Gerudo, and any other defenders who choose to step into the fray, is preventing the larger, more dangerous creatures, such as venomous or fire-breathing beasts, from reaching the Fortress and wreaking havoc.

Castle Town Ruins – Battered and smashed from the final battle between the three wielders of the Triforce, Castle Town and Hyrule Castle itself have suffered quite a lot of damage over the seven-year time period, especially after the rampage of an enhanced Ganon, powered by the entirety of the Triforce. Now blighted by dark magic, and haunted by monsters, mainly undead, the Ruins show no sign of recovery from the choking miasma of death and corruption that covers them, even after several years, and several fruitless applications of purifying Light Magic. The exception is the Temple of Time, which remains both standing, albeit battered, and pure. It serves as a temporary refuge to those trapped in the ruins. The entrance to the Sacred Realm, now the Dark World, is also located here. Zelda has declared the ruins off-limits, unless one is in the company of either herself, or one of the surviving Sheikah.

The reason for the Castle Town Ruins’ continuing corruption and the continued presence of monsters is the energy leaking from the Dark World, which has its entrance in the Temple of Time. It’s not noticeable at first; the Master Sword projects such a strong aura of light as to make it virtually undetectable. But Ganon whispers from his prison inside, the greedy and weak-willed listen, they reach the Dark World, and they are transformed into monsters. The entrance won’t be fully sealed until the Imprisoning War that precedes A Link to the Past. I sorta combined and squished up the backstories a little bit to make it work with both OoT and ALTTP’s canons.

This is currently a secret to everyone in-universe.

Kakariko Village – The new center of Hylian civilization given the state of Castle Town, and the lack of resources to rebuild it, currently. Kakariko still has a fairly small-town atmosphere, but is well on its way to becoming the big city that Impa hired the carpenters to build it into. Zelda currently maintains a residence, here, though she’s rarely actually there. A wall has been built near the entrance to the village proper, and the agricultural fields lie just beyond, easily defensible by the village’s inhabitants. Most residents also tend to avoid the Graveyard during night hours. It’s more of an unwritten rule than an actual edict, though.

Lon Lon Ranch – Also subject to protection by Kakariko’s defenders, given its importance as a food source and in raising horses and other beasts of burden. Also subject to more frequent monster attacks, but between the contribution from Kakariko, and the fed-up ranch residents’ eagerness to strike back against the beasts, it’s… not too much of a problem, generally. Again, the main concern is monsters with additional powers, such as elemental control, or poison.

If your character is tied to one of these areas, and you have some different ideas, then by all means, hit me up! My purpose here is to spur thought as to how your muses would fit into this post-tragedy world I’ve got cranking in my brain, and if you have ideas, I want to hear them!

#ooc #headcanonstuff #hyrule geo

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paleorecipecookbook · 6 years ago

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Accomplish More: How to Replace Busyness with Productivity

I have spent much of my professional life fine-tuning my own productivity so that I can accomplish more without working longer hours and destroying my health. Read on to learn how “busyness” doesn’t equal productivity, how to cut out distractions, and how to accomplish more by actually doing less. Being mindful, learning to prioritize, and scheduling downtime and play are all important for a productive, happy life.

You can accomplish more, and you don’t need to work longer hours to do it. Here are seven ways to increase your productivity without sacrificing your health or happiness. #optimalhealth #healthylifestyle #chriskresser

We All Want to Accomplish More

Does any of this sound familiar?

You get to the end of a day and you feel like it was all a blur

You often feel distracted and have trouble focusing

You are constantly checking your email, text messages, or social media accounts—even when spending time with loved ones, on vacation, or out in nature

You never feel like you’re getting enough done, and yet there’s so much more you have to do

When you are trying to take some downtime, you keep having the nagging feeling you should be doing something more “productive”

If you can relate, there’s a good chance you’re in danger of having what author Max Strom called a “near-life experience” in his book There Is No App for Happiness. We’re busier than ever, and arguably unhappier as a result.

The problem is that society has equated “busyness” with productivity. Busyness has become a badge of honor or status symbol. (1) Being constantly busy is a way of saying, “I am important, and my human capital is sought after.”

Instead of a badge of honor, I believe that busyness is a cultural disease. It’s a sign of just how disconnected we’ve become from what’s important in life. Our days are packed with one thing after another and full of distractions. The internet was supposed to revolutionize how we worked, helping us to be more productive, but everyone would agree that it’s a double-edged sword. The average person checks her smartphone 221 times per day. (2) We’re constantly switching between social media, texts, emails, and actual work—and less gets done as a result. “Busyness” starts to wear us down and might result in:

Lack of sleep or insomnia

Feeling fidgety

Food cravings

Feeling “worn out”

Being tense

Brain fogginess

Too much stress and distraction wreak havoc on our health. Chronic stress, and the unhealthy habits that go along with it like low physical activity, poor eating habits, and lack of sleep, are related to a myriad of health problems, including:

Anxiety and depression (3, 4)

Gut distress and diseases (5)

Polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS)

Cardiovascular disease (6)

Autoimmune disorders (7)

Obesity (8)

Lowered immune function (9)

Sexual dysfunction (10)

Unhappiness

The good news is that being genuinely productive doesn’t have to mean longer hours, more stress, and health issues. In fact, you can learn how to replace busyness with productivity.

Seven Life Hacks to Increase Your Productivity

I’m a “productivity hacker.” I have spent significant time actively working on increasing productivity while cutting out things that decrease it, and I’m going to share what I’ve learned with you. Here are seven practical tips that have helped me throughout my professional and personal life:

Be mindful

Stop multitasking

Batch your tasks

Do less (but accomplish more)

Move your body

Make time for rest and rejuvenation

Play and have fun

1. Be Mindful

Did you notice if there were clouds in the sky this morning, or what they looked like? Did you even look up or were you staring at the phone attached to your hand? Later, when you waited for your lunch date, did you open your phone to check email or scroll through Facebook?

In everyday moments that once presented the opportunity for reflection and quiet presence, many of us are more likely to be thinking about what we have to tackle next on our to-do lists, what we already did or didn’t do (with regret), or what others are doing. We compound this when we pick up our phones and browse the internet, as if that will help us find the answers. We instantly respond to texts that can wait. We click on headlines and read news stories that aren’t urgent. All these little distractions are actually rewiring our brains.

A three-second distraction—enough time to pick up a phone to view a notification—can disrupt our brains from a “sequential task” (following directions, for instance) so effectively that we’re likely to make twice as many errors when we return to the task. (11)

In our quest to constantly be “on” and be productive, we have forgotten how to be mindful and present. Mindfulness, originally derived from Buddhist philosophy, means being aware of thoughts, feelings, bodily sensations, and the surrounding environment on a moment-to-moment basis. It means paying attention to what is rather than getting lost in thoughts about the future or the past.

Mindfulness meditation can be used by anybody regardless of religious beliefs as a way of cultivating awareness and attention. By setting aside even 10 minutes per day to focus on your breathing, you’re exercising your brain’s ability to let go of distracting thoughts and stay on task. With practice, you can learn to allow feelings to come and go, like watching cars pass by.

Here Are the Benefits of Mindfulness

Mindfulness meditation improves both interpersonal and intrapersonal skills. It’s been shown to:

Increase positive emotions while reducing negative emotions and stress (12)

Help tune out distractions and improve attention and ability to focus (13, 14, 15)

Enhance relationships and make us feel more connected and relaxed (16)

Boost our compassion for ourselves and others (17)

Improve self-esteem and social anxiety (18)

The brain is able to reorganize in response to stimuli, an ability called neuroplasticity. Neuroplasticity is the idea that we have the power to change the function and structure of our brains through our emotions, thoughts, and behaviors. In a way, neuroplasticity lets us rewire our brains—to focus on positive occurrences instead of negative, for example, or to be more aware and mindful. By measuring neuroplasticity, researchers can directly observe and quantify the effects of mindfulness meditation on the brain. (19, 20, 21)

Through changing the brain, mindfulness changes the entire body. The vagus nerve, involved in regulating functions such as heart rate and digestion, sends messages between the brain and our internal organs. (22) Vagal tone, a measure of its functional fitness, correlates to healthy bodily function and increased positive feelings. (23, 24) Low vagal tone is related to inflammation, poor cardiac function, and gastrointestinal dysfunction. (25, 26) (With regard to the gut, for example, communication between the brain and gut can be influenced by neurotransmitters created by gut bacteria.) (27) Mindfulness meditation, deep breathing, and emotional tools to foster self-love and kindness can all improve vagal tone. (28, 29, 30)

Mindfulness meditation has been linked to major health benefits, including:

Pain management (31, 32, 33)

Reduction in anxiety and depression (34, 35)

Blood sugar control (36)

Slower cellular aging (37)

Healthy pregnancy (38)

Improved sleep (39, 40)

Overall improved immunity (41)

You Can Start Meditating Today—Just Start Small

If you have never meditated before, it can feel excruciating at first. Start small. You don’t need to spend hours each day meditating. Instead of committing to something unrealistic on day one, try meditating for just five minutes. Studies show that a mere 10 minutes a day yields a host of benefits. (42)

Here are some tips from Jon Kabat-Zinn, the founder of mindfulness-based stress reduction:

Pay close attention to your breathing, especially when you’re feeling intense emotions

Notice what you’re sensing in a given moment: the sights, sounds, and smells that ordinarily slip by without reaching your conscious awareness

Recognize that your thoughts and emotions are fleeting and do not define you, an insight that can free you from negative thought patterns

Tune into your body’s physical sensations, from water hitting your skin in the shower to the way your body rests in an office chair

For additional resources, consider enrolling in Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction program. Two meditation books I recommend are Meditation for Beginners and Buddha in Blue Jeans. A group at UCLA creates a new, free, 30-minute guided meditation every week. The Headspace app has been helpful for many people (as long as the extra app doesn’t contribute to more distraction!).

2. Stop Multitasking

The term “multitasking” was first used to describe parallel processing abilities of computers. Today, of course, multitasking refers to a person’s ability to do multiple activities simultaneously, like talking on the phone with a client while answering emails. In some workplaces, multitasking is simply part of the job.

Multitasking sounds efficient and useful, but unfortunately, it is a myth.The simple fact is that the human brain cannot focus on several tasks at the same time.

According to the late Stanford neuroscientist Clifford Nass, multitasking should be renamed “multi-switching,” and no matter what you call it, it’s actually a buzzkill for productivity.

You Aren’t as Good at Multitasking as You Think

People who think they are good at multitasking may simply be proficient at rapidly shifting attention between two tasks they have already mastered. That’s not really multitasking—it’s just switching between a couple of things you’re already good at. (Think of an experienced chef who can prep and cook lots of dishes without missing a beat.) And most of us can’t do it well. Furthermore, research suggests that those who consider themselves to be effective “multitaskers” actually aren’t good at multitasking at all, and their productivity suffers.

Students who engaged in high levels of multitasking reported significant issues with academic work. (43) In a study of college students, those who focused on a single task at a time outperformed multitaskers in a series of experiments. And when the experiment involved multitasking, the participants who were not considered multitaskers still came out ahead. (44)

Media multitaskers, those who, for example, scroll through social media while watching TV, especially have reduced attention control, greater susceptibility to distractions, and a general tendency toward diffuse or shallow attention. (45, 46, 47) A study at Stanford found that 25 percent of students use four or more media devices at once. (48) They’re writing a paper, they’re on Instagram, they’re in a text conversation, and they have music playing. But this is becoming increasingly common in the workforce as well; workers will be answering the phone while replying to an email and texting friends.

The loss of productivity that comes from switching tasks frequently is called the “switch cost.” (49) The switch costs can manifest in various ways:

Increased switching leads to poorer performance on the primary assigned task

During rapid switching among tasks, learning new information is difficult, if not impossible

Attempting to multitask increases the chance of mistakes (in the case of cell phone usage during driving, this can be a potentially fatal mistake!)

Almost without question, you will be more productive if you focus on one task at a time instead of trying to multitask. Consider a focus-intensive task such as writing. It takes a while to settle into the zone of concentration. If you come out of it to check email, you might not be able to get back into the same level of concentration quickly. One study by researchers at UC Irvine monitored work interruptions among office workers. They found that workers took an average of 25 minutes to recover from interruptions such as phone calls or answering emails and return to their original task. (50)

If, while you’re fixed in the zone, another to-do item comes into your head, don’t shift tasks. Don’t open a tasks app in your phone to type a reminder. Instead, jot down a few words on a physical notepad and deal with it later so that you can stay focused on the task at hand.

If you enjoy working with music in the background, check out Focus@Will. The site provides music that is designed to modulate at intervals that match up with how frequently your brain begins to search a new stimulus. They call it “scientifically optimized music to help you focus.”

3. Batch Your Tasks

Frequently checking email and browsing online is guaranteed to reduce your overall productivity. And, unfortunately, you’re checking email and social media more than you think. One study from 2015 found that, on average, people check their smartphones twice as often as they thought they did. (51) These statistics might surprise you:

Office workers on average check email at least 12 times during the work day. (52)

The average person picks up his phone and interacts with it 221 times per day. (53)

75 percent of employees respond to an email within an hour of receiving it. (54)

If you’re interested in the plain, hard truth of how you’re spending (read: wasting) your time, download the web-based application RescueTime. It tracks the time you spend on different tasks, like social media, email, Microsoft Office, and any other programs or sites.

The solution? Batch email, errands, phone calls, and other tasks, using the following tips.

Schedule Time to Check Your Email

Instead of checking email constantly throughout the day, schedule two to four focused sessions per day to devote to email. Schedule these times into your calendar, just as you would a meeting, and don’t even have the email application open on the computer otherwise. Checking email (and texts) has become addictive for most of us, and it can take some time to break the habit of constantly wanting to click on it—but once you take the plunge and schedule your email activity, you’ll free up larger chunks of time to work on tasks that require intense focus.

Group Your Tasks Together

Group similar tasks together within the day (or week if more applicable). Batching works for more than just email. For example, instead of having meetings scheduled for 9:30 a.m., 12:30 p.m., and 2:00 p.m., schedule all of them within a single block of time, like between 3:00 and 4:30 p.m., for example. This frees up blocks of time for uninterrupted work. Other examples of this would include doing all in-town errands on the same day or having a dedicated day to meal prep for several days’ worth of meals.

Schedule Your Batches Strategically

I know that I am more productive and focused in the morning, and so that’s when I will focus on writing or content development. I leave errands, meetings, emails, and so forth for later in the day. Evaluate what works best for you.

Turn Off Your Notifications

As I mentioned above, multitasking doesn’t really work. All the little notification boxes that pop up when someone likes your status or comments on your post shift your focus and break your concentration. Most apps have notifications turned on by default, but you can manually turn them off. If you really want a reprieve from the constant distraction, try following the “notification zero” movement and disable push notifications entirely.

Of course, you might need to keep certain notifications enabled, but you know what they are, and you can turn off the rest. At the very least, putting your phone face down is helpful because you won’t be tempted by a screen that lights up as soon as “news” comes in.

Leave Your Phone in Another Room

Research indicates that the mere presence of a phone can be distracting! (55) If you keep the ringer on, you won’t miss that important phone call you’ve been waiting for, but the phone will be safely out of reach.

4. Do Less (But Accomplish More)

It might be hard to hear, but no, you can’t do it all. We get so frazzled trying to keep up with dozens of people, projects, and activities, that we lose sight of what we’re working towards.

In order to achieve your goals, you need to get rid of the “busyness” and instead learn to plan and prioritize.

Learn How to Say No

This tip is meant especially for the people-pleasers. As I said, you can’t do it all—you shouldn’t try, and you shouldn’t feel like you have to. Focus on what’s important and let the rest go.

Avoid Arguing about Things That Don’t Matter

From Facebook tiffs to in-person drama, these arguments will drain your energy and often sour your mood, both of which will negatively impact your productivity.

Stay Away from Toxic People

Being courteous and kind to everyone is a good rule of thumb, but not everyone has to be your best friend. Steer clear of negative people or those who tend to stress you out.

Identify and Plan Out Your Goals

As a monthly practice, identify your five most important projects or goals. (Put a note in your calendar to do this—you could choose the first Monday of the month so that it’s a logical fit with your schedule.) Don’t skip this step—you have to know your target to aim correctly. Each week, identify tasks to move you closer to those goals. (Again, Monday makes sense, but some advance planners may like doing this on a Friday, in preparation for the week to come.) At the start of each day, list the three most important tasks to follow.

Make a Schedule Instead of a To-Do List

By setting aside specific times for tasks, schedules prevent things from staying on your to-do list indefinitely. Pencil it in!

5. Move Your Body

Here is where I will start to lose people. That’s because the remaining three productivity hacks have less to do with work itself than with supporting productivity while you are not working. But they are just as important.

Physical activity improves cognitive performance. (56, 57) Busy professionals will say they don’t have time for exercise, but without it, productivity will suffer. Even at work, you can incorporate more movement into your day with these three strategies.

Sit Less and Move More

One meta-analysis involving 18 studies and over 800,000 subjects found that those who sat the most had a greater than 100 percent higher risk of diabetes, a nearly 150 percent higher risk of heart disease, a 90 percent higher risk of death from heart disease and close to a 50 percent higher risk of death from all causes when compared to those that sat the least. (58) A recent study found that as sedentary time increased, so did early death from any cause. (59) What might be surprising is that in this study, exercise time did not mitigate any of the detrimental effects of sedentary behavior.

Invest in a Standing Desk or Treadmill Desk

My treadmill desk has been life-changing. I walk at a very slow pace (less than one mile per hour) while doing computer work, or I can choose to stand. Some companies may even purchase a standing desk for you as part of a company health initiative.

Take Frequent Breaks

I use the program Time Out to determine break intervals. Every 10 minutes, the screen pauses for a quick 15-second break, during which I look away from the computer, stretch, or close my eyes. Every 45 minutes, I program Time Out to take a longer three- to four-minute break. I will walk outside for a bit, do a few pull-ups, or make an effort to look at 3D objects instead of a 2D screen.

Outside of work, an ideal exercise routine should incorporate weight lifting, interval training, vigorous activity, and moderate activity. But whatever exercise you enjoy doing and actually will do is better than none. Also, increase physical activity outside of distinct periods of exercise—walk or bike to work, take the stairs instead of the elevator, spend time running around with the kids.

6. Make Time for Rest and Rejuvenation

Americans in particular are working harder than ever. Men and women in the United States are working 12 to 13 hours more per week than they were in 1968. In a year, Americans, on average, work: (60)

137 more hours than Japanese workers,

260 more than British workers, and

499 more than French workers!

So many feel like they can’t afford to take breaks, or feel guilty about doing so. But downtime replenishes the brain’s stores of attention and motivation, encourages productivity and creativity, and may help you accomplish more.

The most creative and productive people in sports, business, and the arts make a point to rest and rejuvenate. Many artists and athletes rarely practice more than four hours per day and regularly schedule breaks and naps. (61) An interesting study on one consulting group experimented with less work. The bosses insisted employees take regular time off, workers took one day off per week, and employees were told to unplug at night instead of checking email. (62) At the end of the study, employees were more productive and more satisfied with their jobs because they were able to work better when they were revived and rested.

Structured downtime helps us feel refreshed and rejuvenated, but this time can look different for different people. Whether it’s walking, meditation, cloud-watching, or something else, schedule regular downtime into your day.

If You Want to Feel Rejuvenated, Go off the Grid

We all could benefit from being less connected. I recommend “going off the grid” regularly. One day each week, don’t check email or social media or use a computer or phone except for very basic tasks like finding directions. For the past few years, I have taken at least a week of vacation where I go completely off the grid.

Is it scary to imagine a week without a smartphone or the internet? I’ll admit—at first it was challenging, but now the only thing that’s difficult about it is going back on the grid.

Make Sure You’re Getting High-Quality Sleep

Poor sleep has negative effects on cognitive function, including decreased short-term memory, reduced learning capacity, a decline in mental stamina, and an inability to sustain attention. (63) Most experts on sleep agree that humans require seven to nine hours of sleep in the vast majority of cases, but unfortunately, many Americans never clock that much shut-eye. In fact, nearly 30 percent of American adults are sleeping fewer than six hours per night. (64)

Here are some beginning tips to help with sleep:

Control artificial light exposure, especially at night. Do not use screens two hours before bed, and if you absolutely must use them, wear orange glasses that block melatonin-suppressing wavelengths of light. Apps like f.lux can help you control the amount and color of the light coming from your screens.

Get exercise during the day.

Wake up and go to sleep at the same times every day. Even on weekends.

Take a nap. Although it may vary, 10 to 20 minutes seems like the sweet spot for a beneficial nap.

Address insomnia. If your mind can’t shut down at night, try the Rest Assured program instead of a sleep aid medication. The program works by maintaining a greater state of relaxation and ease throughout the day, which will help improve sleep at night.

7. Play and Have Fun

Play isn’t just a frivolous luxury; it helps keep our minds flexible. Play has been part of our evolutionary heritage. In adults, playfulness is associated with creativity, productivity, flexibility, optimism, empathy, social altruism, and stress tolerance.

What counts as play? According to Dr. Stuart Brown’s definition from his book, Play: How It Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul, play is:

Purposeless, done for its own sake

Voluntary

Outside of time

Improvisational or spontaneous

Mildly addictive

Watching television and browsing the internet are distractions, not play. Cultivate time for something you enjoy doing that fits the criteria above, like photography, knitting, playing basketball, music, surfing, making art, dancing, and more. Make a list of playful activities, and when you’re in a rut, consult the list and do one of them.

The pleasure of play releases endorphins that help counteract stress hormones, improve mood, and improve immune function, among many other benefits.

Now I’d like to hear from you! What do you think of my seven strategies to increase productivity and banish “busyness”? What other productivity hacks have you discovered? Share your thoughts and suggestions in the comments below.

The post Accomplish More: How to Replace Busyness with Productivity appeared first on Chris Kresser.

Source: http://chriskresser.com November 16, 2018 at 06:09PM

#paleo #recipe #food #delicious #healthy #yum #diet

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timepetalscollective · 7 years ago

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Of Time Lords and Disney Movies

Fandom: Doctor Who Author: @darthtella Rating: All ages

The Doctor really didn’t know anything about himself anymore, except for a few things. He knew that he had a slight weakness in the dorsal tubercle of his wrist. He delightfully had more hair than he had before, but he was disappointed when Rose told him it was just sort-of brown and not ginger, and the same was probably true for his newly acquired sideburns. He also thought he had really bad skin, but he loved the mole situated between his shoulder blades. He was also a bit thinner than his previous self, which he knew would take some getting used to. He knew that sometime during his post-regenerative coma he was relieved of his leather coat and dressed in pajamas. He felt that this had to be the work of one Jackie Tyler and would just add to the awkward encounters he had with that woman.

He was learning new things as well. Like how he might just be rude given how he just shouted at Rose for giving up on him. Like how the sense of taste could go a long way to discovering the truth of the matter. For example he just figured out that the Sycorax were controlling every human with A positive blood by just dipping his finger into the small pool of blood resting inside a control matrix and tasting it. Oh, and he learned that he just LOVED pressing great big threatening buttons that must never-ever be pressed under any circumstances.

“Blood control is just one form of conquest. I can summon the armada and take this world by force.” The Sycorax leader bellowed at the Doctor.

“Well, yeah, you could. Yeah. You could do that, of course you could.” Rambling. That was also something new for this body. It was like his mouth needed something to do while his brain worked out problems. But something that wasn’t new, something that he had since his very first body was compassion for humans, and he felt it bubbling up inside this new body. “But why?” He asked putting an almost pleading tone into his voice and extending his hand at the small group of humans standing nearby. “Look at these people. These human beings. Consider their potential. From the day they arrive on the planet and, blinking, step into the sun, there is more to see than can ever be seen, more to do than… No, hold on.” He lapsed into a brief moment of quiet contemplation. He recognised those words from somewhere, but with his newly rewired brain it took him a moment to remember…

—

It all started with Rose’s humming.

She had sauntered into the console room humming happily to herself when Jack’s ears seemed to perk up and he started humming in return. The tune was familiar, and he knew there were lyrics. He hummed a few more bars and then started quietly singing “Hakuna matata what a wonderful phrase…” Rose turned to look at the ex-time agent with a bewildered look on her face.

“You know the words?” She gaped at him. Jack responded with a disarming smile.

“Rose, in the 51st Century, Walt and Roy Disney are considered to be two of Earth’s greatest storytellers.”

“Don’t see why!” A gruff northern voice rang out from somewhere beneath the Time Rotor. Jack and Rose looked down and watched as the Doctor wriggled his way out from where he was making his repairs and glared up at them. “They just regurgitated what other writers had done before him, watered the stories down and turned them into children’s films! A great many of them weren’t even written by them anyways. You want great story telling; try actually reading Hans Christian Anderson or Shakespeare!” Rant over, the Doctor lowered himself back under the Time Rotor and began sonicing the wiring indiscriminately. Rose rolled his eyes at the Doctor.

“Have you ever actually watched any of them?” The Doctor turned his head so he could see her through the floor grating with his patented ‘you just dribbled down your shirt, you stupid ape’ look on his face.

“I’m 900 years old. You really think I’ve any interest in watching films made for children?”

“Says the man I caught crying while reading Harry Potter…” Jack snickered. “Got a really nice photo of that moment too.” The Doctor ratcheted his glare up a couple more notches and quickly heaved himself up on to his feet.

“Book seven was really…” He started to speak but cut himself short when he realised he was saying a bit too much. “Anyway, I really don’t see what you people find so facinatin’ about Disney films. I mean you’re adults and you’re still singing songs out of those things!”

“Oh c'mon, Doctor. They’re fun!” Rose smiled at him.

“Fun?!” He almost shouted. “I can’t see how a film made for children is fun!”

“Says the man who was laughing his head off whilst riding the dogem’s at that 300th Century fair last week, where I’m sure 90% of the people around us were children.” Rose deadpanned. The Doctor opened and closed his mouth several times trying to conjure up a witty response, but only was able to manage a very grumpy sounding “Shut up.”

“There’s no convincing you, is there?” Jack piped up.

“Nope!” The Doctor smiled sarcastically. Then Rose got an idea.

“You fancy yourself a scientist, don’t you Doctor?” He furrowed his brow and crossed his arms in front of him, unsure of where this random line of thought was coming from.

“Suppose I do.” He relented.

“Then I propose an experiment.” One of his eyebrows shot up. “You watch one Disney film with us.” He dramatically rolled his blue eyes. “An’ if you don’t like it, you never have to watch another one ever again.”

“Does that also mean you’ll stop whistling show-tunes while in my presence?” He looked pointedly between Rose and Jack. The two humans shared a look between them and both nodded their assent.

“Fine, one film.” The Doctor sighed waving a single finger in the air. “Just one. So you better make it count.”

Five minutes later, the three of them were seated on the couch with great big bowls of popcorn in the TV room that had materialised on the TARDIS just shortly after Rose arrived on board. The Doctor made sure to seat himself between Jack and Rose lest the two humans decided to start any shenanigans during the film, not because of that uneasy, almost jealous feeling he felt whenever Jack was around him and Rose (at least, that’s what he told himself anyway).

“So, which one is it then?” The Doctor asked around a mouthful of popcorn as Jack pointed the remote at the screen. Rose shot him her signature tongue in teeth smile.

“My absolute favourite: The Lion King.” The Doctor sighed heavily as the lights in the room dimmed and the film started. He cringed when he realised it was a musical, although the first number was quite impressive, but the whole “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King” thing was almost cringe worthy (especially since the humans flanking him couldn’t help but sing along off-key). He also tried several times to point out that animals on Earth really couldn’t talk like that, but was always interrupted by a sharp elbow to the ribs. So, they could sing along and he couldn’t point out scientific inaccuracies? Fantastic! He grumpily shoved more popcorn into his mouth as he watched the two lion cubs run away from three hungry hyenas before being rescued by who he assumed was the titular lion king (who sounded amusingly like Darth Vader).

Then a section of dialogue came up that grabbed his full attention.

“I was just trying to be brave, like you.” The little cub sobbed.

“I’m only brave when I have to be. Simba, being brave doesn’t mean you go looking for trouble.” His father said softly. Well, if only a certain jeopardy friendly girl he knew understood that. With a smug grin, he playfully nudged his shoulder with Rose’s, hoping she’d take the hint.

“But you’re not scared of anything.” Simba continued.

“I was today.”

“You were?”

“Yes. I thought I might lose you.”

His smile suddenly faded. Thoughts of being stuck in Downing Street trying to stop the Slitheen ran through his mind.

“I could save the world, but lose you.”

He felt his hearts constrict. How could a film designed for children no less convey those emotions so perfectly? He was so lost in thought, he didn’t even know that he had slid his arm protectively around Rose’s shoulder until he realised she was staring at him. His face turned a deep shade of crimson and he was about to remove his arm, but Rose only laughed softly and leaned her head on his shoulder. They stayed like that for a long time. He hugged her even tighter when Mufasa died, knowing exactly how she felt when her own father was killed. When Rose and Jack sang along to the song they were humming in the console room earlier, the Doctor actually found himself smiling during that song too, realising he was actually striving to live the “Hakuna Matata” lifestyle every day. (At least, that was the plan…)

Then the next song started, and Jack couldn’t contain his laughter.

“Is our trio already down to two?” He joked, seeing how the Doctor had his arm around Rose and how she in turn had slung her arm around his middle.

“Quiet, tryin’ to watch here.” The Doctor shot back, not budging an inch. It was perfectly fine for two best friends to sit like that, he reasoned.

They watched the rest of the film in silence. The Doctor felt surprisingly elated when the evil Scar was vanquished and Simba took his place as the rightful king of the restored Pride Lands.

“So, what'cha think? Not so bad, eh?” Rose asked as she sat up from her surprisingly comfy Time Lord pillow. He just shrugged non-committedly.

—

“Sorry, that’s The Lion King.”

#ficandchips #doctor x rose #fic submission #submission

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awkwarddystopianwarlord · 3 years ago

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Reading Between the Lines

I know I’ve mentioned this before, and I know I’ll inevitably mention it again, but I am a shy, socially awkward human. Being such leads me to struggle with putting my foot down and telling someone “enough” after they’ve crossed one too many lines. I reckon most people like myself go through something similar: being afraid to say “no”. A lot of women deal with this regularly. That classic scenario when gents-that-need-to-prove-their-worthiness-as-a-person fail to see the hints given off by the woman that she is uncomfortable with their advances and wants to escape. Sometimes it goes so far that even after declining their offers, these fellas still don’t catch on. The same goes for peer pressure. The want for someone to do something, drink something, say something despite their unwillingness to follow through. And instead of recognizing their hesitance, others will join the chorus asking “why not?”, “just do it”.

People are complicated. We give off confusing messages, signs, gestures. Hell, even using our words we can wind up with miscommunication that after seven minutes of yelling at one another brings us to the conclusion that we all agreed on the same thing in the first place. That said, not everyone is going to speak in the bluntest of ways so that no one is left with questions. Especially people that don’t fare well with talking to others. I’ve lived through some horrible circumstances solely because I couldn’t say “no” and because the other person lacked the ability to see, even though I hadn’t spoken, my entire posture objected to what they wanted. Even in day to day conversations with friends, I have the utmost difficulty drawing lines using verbal communication. Those lines then get crossed a multitude of times because I never specifically say “stop it, you went too far”. I do, however, voice the fact that lines are getting crossed or make strange stressed out noises that my friends know mean discomfort. I start growling more, my voice holds more of a warning tone when I say “watch yourself”. My demeanor has lost its playfulness and has grown more solemn. I no longer display the fact that I am enjoying the actions or words that are being carried out. Some of those friends catch on, others don’t. It is for those others that I am writing this.

Not everyone is straightforward and we need to pay attention to one another to ensure that we aren’t tormenting them without knowing it. Clearly this isn’t an easy thing to do when it comes to people we don’t know well, but people that we work with regularly, people that we’ve been friends with for years, people that have a strong sense of who we are and how we function should most be aware of how we silently communicate. Sure, it can be frustrating for those around me to not receive loud objections when they push too many buttons. It’s probably irritating to have to often check in halfway through a conversation to make sure that we aren’t uncomfortable with what’s being said. I reckon some people might think they’re talking to a small child instead of an adult because of how careful they need to be and it’s more tiring. I’m aware of all of this, but here’s what’s worse, I have to live with it. Enduring some brief annoyances with my inability to stand up for myself over the course of a few hours is incomparable to me having to deal with that every single day.

People seem to forget that the flaws and challenges of each individual are not always easily solved. What may seem simple for you, might not be for another. Your strategies with combating social anxiety will not be the same as someone else’s. We each have our own life journey that is unique to us, though there may be some parallel roads to others, ultimately we must travel alone. Our brains are not shared by anyone but ourselves. We can seek help, suggestions, advice, wisdom, but we ourselves will be applying that knowledge and we ourselves will know truly if any of it worked. I am trying to hold my ground, I really am, but it’s not going to be an overnight fix. It’s not something that people can rewire by throwing me into uncomfortable situations or testing me by prodding me until I say something. To reconfigure our brains takes time. So, what we can do whilst we wait, is pay attention to one another. Read between the lines of how each of us acts. Not everyone is going to hold up a sign that says how they feel. As nice as that would be, it’s never going to happen. People in silent movies portrayed entire storylines without more than a wee paragraph to explain things. Mimes do the same without the title card. The actress in The Shape of Water was bloody deaf and spoke only through her hands and body language for two hours. Sure she had subtitles for when she signed her lines but hopefully you get what I’m saying. There is far more to communication than verbally stating our thoughts. We need to remember that so we can keep each other safe and supported.

It won’t be easy. Mistakes will be made. But in the end, you tried. You learned and you will improve. That is what’s important. Far fewer people will be pressured into doing something they don’t want to do, will be continuously irritated or angered by something that was said, will be embarrassed by something that was done. With the extra effort will come more reward, for it will be immensely appreciated to not always be forced to speak up before we are ready. Talking is terrifying for me and countless others, shit, that’s why I started a blog. I have things to say but I can’t always voice them. So challenge yourself to listen to the voiceless in your life, see what isn’t being said, notice what is shown through the silence. Read between the lines.

#blog #weeklyblog #friday post #thoughts #writing

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nebris · 5 years ago

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The Simulacran Republic

December 24, 2005 JL Bageant

The hologram ripples with the cry of a thrush

"It’s a world of appearances… packaged to the showroom specifications of a sit-com. She asks her hairdresser for ‘tinted highlights’ he mumbles something about going to the gym. He feels he should do something that requires him to clutch a bottle of mineral water and wipe his brow with the firm conviction that he’s accomplished something more than providing the illusion that his presence in his own life is necessary. They believe in nothing as fervently as their own goodness. When she’s asleep, he absently gazes at porn sites, before he checks out his stock portfolio online."

—Writer and social critic Jennifer Matsui

By Joe Bageant

A while back it was announced that a Japanese inventor had successfully created an invisibility cloak using a material made of thousands of tiny beads called "retro-reflectum." I found this so amazing that I told six friends, three men and three women, about it over the next two days. Not a one of them found it even interesting, much less amazing. Two of the men subsequently showed mild interest when I pointed out that it could be used to mask tanks and soldiers in combat, and one speculated on its terrorist implications. Our techno hyper-reality has so gutted and rewired the brains of Americans that ordinary intelligent people are not even capable of amazement at such a thing as invisibility! To me, this is an indication of a near-total death of the individual mind and imagination caused by our over-technologized, effects glutted sensory environment.

The pure miracle of invisibility is uninteresting unless it can be linked to, say the rumbling terror of an armored tank — made perhaps even more attention-grabbing by squashing the bloody guts out of an Iraq under its tracks? It’s the sensory effect that matters, the simulacrum, not the reality. It’s the kind of thing about America that drives me to thoughts of emigration daily.

Americans, rich or poor, now live in a culture entirely perceived through, simulacra-media images and illusions. We live inside a self-referential media hologram of a nation that has not existed for quite some time now, especially in America’s heartland. Our national reality is held together by a pale, carbon imprint of the original. The well-off with their upscale consumer aesthetic, live inside gated Disneyesque communities with gleaming uninhabited front porches representing some bucolic notion of the Great American home and family. The working class, true to its sports culture aesthetic, is a spectator to politics … politics which are so entirely imagistic as to be holograms of a process, not a process. Social realism is a television commercial for America, a simulacran republic of eagles, church spires, brave young soldiers and heroic firefighters and "freedom of choice" within the hologram. America’s citizens have been reduced to Balkanized consumer units by the corporate state’s culture producing machinery.

We no longer have a country — just the hollow shell of one, a global corporation masquerading electronically and digitally as a nation called the United States. The corporation now animates us from within our very selves through management of the need hierarchy in goods and information. Sure there is flesh within the machine, but its animating force is a viral concept, a meme run amok. Free market capitalism. We got to move them refrigerators, got to sell them color teevees.

Meanwhile the culture generating industry spins our mythology like cotton candy. We all need it to survive, Hollywood myths, imperial myths, melting pot myths, the saluting dick male myths. They keep the machine running. And when the machine is running correctly, it smoothes its own way by terrifying uncooperative people into submission in prisons and torture rooms, where we do not have to look at the corpses on ice and the naked hooded bodies handcuffed to the bars. We are innocent as long as we keep our eyes taped shut. And only with our eyes shut can we keep seeing the hologram. And with duct tape over our mouths, we can recite its slogans with one hand over our heart with the other one resting on the trigger.

The average American spends about one third of his or her waking life watching television. The neurological implications of this are so profound that they cannot even be comprehended in words, much less described by them. Television creates our reality, regulates our national perceptions and our interior hallucinations of who we Americans are (the best and only important tribe on the planet.) It schedules our cultural illusions of choice, displays pre-selected candidates in our elections, or types of consumer goods. It regulates holiday marketing opportunities and the national neurological seasons, which are now governed by the electrons of the illusion. We live within a media generated belief system that functions as the operating instructions for society. Anything outside of its parameters represents fear and psychological freefall to the faceless legions of within it.

Our civilization, our culture, in as much as it can be said to exist in any cohesive way, is based upon two things, television and petroleum. Whether you are a custodian or the President, your world depends upon an unbroken supply of both. So it is small wonder that we all watch a televised global war for oil. As in all produced illusions, everyone we see is an actor. There are the television actors portraying what passes for reality, and real people performing for television. Non-actors in Congress perform in front of the cameras, grappling over the feeding tube on Terri Schiavo; real actors portray non-actors in "reality shows." Michael Jackson shows up for court in pajamas and Jeff Weise shows up for class with a gun. The demand for "newsmakers" is relentless as the empire’s corporate cultural machinery weaves the warp of consumer illusions that make up our notion of individualism, and the weft of democratic mythology that constitutes our political system. This is by no means a free country and given the intense luminosity of the hologram, we cannot even see freedom from here, and probably would not recognize it if we could. Moreover though, we cannot tear our eyes away from the great flickering glow of the hologram.

As my late friend Timothy Leary put it, "An enormous industry, similar to the national projects of pyramid-building in Egypt, cathedral-building in medieval Europe, and prison-camp building in Stalinist Russia has emerged in America — the production of political martyrs, fallen heroes and concept outlaws. … The essence of ‘news’ is, of course, the modern version of Roman coliseum shows and gladiator combats." And like clockwork, there is the nightly ritual bloodletting through televised wars and domestic murders, with detective Lenny Briscoe finding the corpses at seven, eight and eleven PM weekdays.

The hologram that is our cathedral of consciousness and our national mind is an ever-darkening one. The average American, if he even thinks about the mind, thinks of it in the obsolete "mind-contained-in-the-brain" way. A few intellectuals and a handful of old dopers like me understand that reality is consensus based and is an interconnected network consisting of many minds operating along a theme. And the theme seems to be pathological.

America suffers from a psychosis, a psychosis being nothing more than an insistence upon staying in an untenable state of consciousness, despite the normal modeling of those around you. This is not out of meanness, but rather an indifference so profound as to be a sickness. The hologram IS the psychosis made manifest. Psychotics love to play ominous games with those around them, just as America does with the world today.

It always comes down to the one thing we never study in school, the one thing we cannot learn about in this country without a great deal of personal extracurricular effort — consciousness. As we have known at least since the Sixties, the core issue of our existence is consciousness, which our corporate state is compelled to control at all times. That’s why drugs are illegal; that’s why we have hundreds of television channels; and that’s why you will never find anything much resembling the truth in U.S. newspapers and magazines. But there are still those of us who remember our consciousness experiments in the Sixties. Remember what it is like to peer into other realities, not to mention observe the inherent folly and frequent horror of our own war-profit-driven, animal murdering, death-and-sex-without-love obsessed culture. There are those of us who know that when a thrush cries out from the branch it echoes throughout the galaxy. All things are connected and ownership of things is meaningless. The purpose of life is to know this. Lao-tsu knew it, just like Einstein knew it. But you and I are not allowed to. It would shatter our revered hologram, the one that threatens to shatter the world.

To even begin to dissolve this dangerous hologram we would have to examine the biggest lie of all — that technology is neutral and that people determine its ultimate effects. What divine horseshit! Consider what even the best use of nuclear energy leaves in its wake over the long haul an uninhabitable planet. No matter who is in charge we end up with millions of tons of waste with a half-life in the tens of thousands of years. But the hologram we revere asks us to judge the technology at its heart in strictly personal terms — cars, vacuum cleaners, and digital amusements. Pay no mind to the toxic rivers and a sky turning red. Science and technology are our religion and all philosophical decisions are made in the corporate world whose function is to sell commodities. Easily the most terrifying aspect of the industrial/media/political hologram is that we are trapped. There is no way out of a technological industrial machine where you need at least a car, a phone, etc. to function, to participate at all.

Thanks to the hologram, American culture, as such, is nearly over. It is not sustainable. It is not reformable. Not only are TV and all digital media unreformable, but they are sure to accelerate our demise more rapidly because of the technological capitalist paradigm of growth at all cost. We cannot eliminate the generators of the hologram, television and electronic media. They are the glue of the hologram, the mediators of our human experience. We will all die without them, now that they have replaced all other previous forms of knowledge, the ancient forms, and have colonized our inner lives like a virus. The natural world is not only boring but does not even exist, as we sit mesmerized, while the hologram sells our very feelings back to us. Are we adequate? How are we supposed to act? Did you phone someone you love today? What and whom are we to fear? You are rendered numb by a hypnotic medium, react to your own feelings which have been stolen and doled back out to you, and pay money to do so. Brilliant! The commodification of human consciousness is probably the most astounding, if ghoulish, accomplishment of American Capitalist culture.

Meanwhile, there is the omniscient "one voice that speaks out to the many," the disembodied military/corporate voice, that all but guarantees an authoritarian political scenario. Unlike the humans who constitute their living innards, the corporations animating the hologram are themselves deathless. The citizens cannot harm them. Under U.S. law corporations have all the rights and protections of individuals, and they cannot be regulated because corporations are "fictional persons" and have the same right to free speech as persons. Of course, given that the media are corporations, their speech is a helluva lot more impactful and significant than any one person’s. "But," as the brilliant author of In the Absence of the Sacred, Gerry Mander puts it: "They have none of the commensurate responsibilities. Communities cannot control them because they can always move to other communities. They do not have corporeality; they can’t be executed. You can imprison certain people within a corporation if they engage in criminal acts. The corporation itself, however, lives beyond the people in it."

The light of the hologram plays on material reality and remakes it in its own image, destroying all connection with the natural world. Malls and suburbs and hyper-real surfaces and speed — meaningless but dazzling technology. The earth gets a makeover in the image of Disneyland and becomes inhabited by humans who are commodified versions of themselves.

It is difficult for people to grasp that we are in an age of corporate dominion just as we were once in an age of domination by royal families, kings and warlords. Somehow it is hard to equate our tribute rendered to the credit card companies, the insurance companies, the IRS, the power cartels, the mortgage banks, with the kind of bondage it is. Yet we must do these things to be allowed to live in society. The only other choice is to sleep under a bridge. And these days, whether due to an on-setting depression or creeping wisdom, I often contemplate just that. I really do. Of course I understand that even under a bridge one cannot escape the hologram’s blue flicker issuing from a hundred million encroaching suburban windows. But like I said, there are still a few of us old bastards out here who remember. And we can still hear the cry of the thrush echoing, still out there shattering galaxies. Freedom is possible.

https://www.joebageant.org/2005/12/24/the_simulacran_/

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