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yojangjun · 4 years

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Friends-to-lovers!au | sungyoon

Word count: ~3.5k

Summary: where you fall head over heels in love with your best friend, choi sungyoon, and jangjun secretly becomes your wingman.

Note: I saw that theres a lack of golden child stories on here, so I wanted to change that! This is my first time posting an au on tumblr, so hopefully it turns out fine. Feel free to send in requests for any other aus you want to see from the golden child members. Enjoy!

12:39 AM

Y/N: sungyoon

Y/N: sungyoon ah

Y/N: hellooooo

12:45 AM

Y/N: sungyoon

Y/N: okay fine dont answer me

Y/N: :(

Y/N: meanie

12:51 AM

Y/N: choi

Y/N: sung

Y/N: yoon

Y/N: !!!!!!

🐰: do uk what time it is rn

Y/N: you finally answered!!!

Y/N: i cant sleep

🐰: just close your eyes

Y/N: if it was that easy I wouldn’t msg u :’(

🐰: we have class at 8 tmr

🐰: count sheep or bunnies or something

🐰: goodnight

Y/N: i finally got a reply and you’re leaving already??

Y/N: hey! did you really go back to sleep?

12:59 AM

Y/N: fine

Y/N: so much for a best friend

Y/N: who wont help you sleep

Y/N: so mean :(((

Y/N: im only buying ice cream for daeyeol now

1:12 AM

🐰 has sent you a voice message

1:14 AM

Incoming call: 🐰mr rabbit csy🐰

You jump from your bed, “Hello?”

“Come outside.”

You quickly throw on a hoodie on and rush outside, your eyes adjusting to the darkness of the night. Your eyes don’t have to wander for long before landing on a raven haired male, his hoodie flopped over his messy hair. He looks disgruntled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he lets out a yawn. Oops, you definitely woke him up.

You quickly walk up to him, and before you can greet him, are met with a plastic bag offered to you.

“I bought your favorite— green tea flavored.” Your eyes widen before rustling through the contents, pulling out said ice cream.

“Yah, you bought ice cream at this time?” You rip open the wrapper, taking a huge bite of the creamy treat and sigh with delight, “Did you really feel threatened by me buying ice cream for Daeyeol? I was kidding! Well, actually if he asked I probably would, but wow I actually managed to get you to buy me ice cream.”

He ignores you, watching silently as you quickly devour the dessert before pulling out a napkin once he notices the mess that you’ve made on your face.

“Hey!” You whine as he wipes at the corners of your mouth. You try not to lean into the warmth of his touch that you feel even through the napkin; it’s a crisp night after all. You will your cheeks to not grow warm, but your ears quickly glow red instead.

“You’re so messy,” he sighs, finally pulling away and taking note of how you’re unusually quiet. Usually, you would playfully push his hand away, complaining that you weren’t a baby, but your head is turned away, eyes downcast at your shoes. You can see that he’s trying to meet your eyes, but you can’t look at him, not with your heart pounding a mile a minute, nervous and slightly embarrassed.

Pat. You look up as his hand rubs the top of your hair gently, carefully caressing your head through your locks.

“Are you nervous because of the presentation tomorrow? Is that why you can’t sleep?” He muses softly, eyes still trying to meet yours. You grow shy, extremely shy, but shift your eyes to meet his for a brief second before looking away. His eyes dripped of warm honey, enveloping you in a feeling only he could ever have on you.

Seeing you avert your eyes, he takes that as a yes, and brings you closer to him by a tug of the arm. You squeak in surprise, suddenly finding yourself enveloped in his arms. Warmness spreads through your body like a blazing fire, now being fueled by the beating of your heart.

The things you do to me, you think as your arms slowly wrap around his waist, hugging him back. You take in his scent, a scent you’ve come to recognize as familiar and comforting, ever since you met him freshman year.

“I know you have a lot of stage anxiety, but you’ve gotten so much better at public speaking. You’ll do great tomorrow, don’t worry.” Even his voice is warm, his comforting words becoming even more meaningful.

Stage fright was the last thing on your mind at the current moment, but he didn’t have to know that.

If you don’t let me go soon, my heart’s going to explode.

Instead, you nod, allowing yourself to rest your head against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat through his hoodie; a tiny voice in the back of your mind wonders if you have the same effect on him that he has on you.

You stay like that for a while, his arms bringing you closer when you shiver from an incoming breeze.

You wish you could stay like this forever, but you now realize how late it must be, and he’s right, you do have a presentation tomorrow morning, and you do suffer from stage fright still.

“Ah thanks. I’m fine now, I swear,” you start blabbering, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace. You suddenly feel bad; you made him get out of bed for no reason, and he brought you ice cream, “Sorry for troubling you, Sungyoon-ah.”

He sees a pout forming on your face, and he studies you closely.

“I’m your best friend, Y/N, isn’t it my job to make you feel better,” he tilts his head, but doesn’t question you further as you widen the gap between the two of you.

You stare at him blankly before finally smiling at his words, “Sorry, you’re right. I guess the nerves are keeping me awake. But I do feel better now! Thanks for coming, and ah- for the ice cream! I swear I won’t buy any for Daeyeol, only for you, since it seems to bother you so much,” you try to tease him in an attempt to lighten up the mood.

He smiles back, relieved that you seem to be acting normal again. Little did he know, his smile was making your stomach do summersaults, but you tried to push past it as he let out a chuckle.

“Go get some rest, okay? You have a big day ahead,” he ruffles your hair, laughing as you swat his hand away.

“My hair,” you whine, but nevertheless, grin back at him.

“Bye, Sungyoon-ah!””

“Bye Y/N, make sure to wake up on time.”

He waits until you reach the door of your building before turning around and heading back in the direction of his dorm.

As you enter your room, you immediately fling yourself onto your bed and scream into your pillow, kicking your legs.

“Can my heart not do that for once,” you whine, settling on your side as you hug a pillow to your chest.

You allow a smile to spread across your face after a while, cheeks once again flushing red as you remember the feeling of him embracing you.

“I wonder if you feel the same way I feel about you?”

You didn’t know when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, you had fallen in love with your best friend.

---------------

“Y/N!!” You turn around at the sound of your name, yelping as someone jumps on you, almost making you lose your balance.

“Jangjun!” You shove him off of you as he laughs. You turn around and see Donghyun and Joochan following close behind, concentrating on their phones as they play Kart Rider probably. You stare at them for a bit before messing with their phones, randomly touching their screens. They complain in unison, swatting your hands away as you chuckle.

“Did you just get out of class, Y/N?” Jangjun bounces from foot to foot, looking as happy as ever. You shake your head.

“I got out a while ago. I’m just waiting for Sungyoon to get out of class. I promised him I’d buy him ice cream-”

“What, you never buy us ice cream,” Joochan cuts in, finally looking up from his phone as Donghyun shouts in victory.

“Do you want to come with? I’m sure Sungyoon wouldn’t mind,” Joochan quickly shakes his head, holding his hands up.

“I don’t want to be a third wheel on your date, but thanks though,” You sputter at his words, heat quickly rising to your cheeks. Jangjun bursts out laughing at the look on your face, and it takes all your willpower to not punch him.

“D-Date? Sungyoon and I aren’t like that,” You finally manage to say, but your ears are still burning in embarrassment. The three boys look at you expectantly and you grow even more self-conscious, holding your hands up in defense, “Why are you all staring at me like that? It’s true!”

“Anyway, are you going to the fireworks display tonight? I heard it’s going to be really nice. Our school really went all out planning the event!” Jangjun asks, his tone still teasing. You sigh in defeat, but are grateful for the topic change.

“Oh, was that tonight?” You think about the number of assignments you have piled up and grimace, “I don’t know, I kind of got a lot of work to do-”

Jangjun quickly waves you off, “Nonsense! You need to relax once in a while, Y/N.”

As you’re forming a reply, his eyes focus on something behind you and an evil grin appears on his face.

“Oh! Sungyoon hyung, great timing! Y/N is dying to go to the firework display tonight!” Your eyes widen in horror as you realize who exactly Jangjun spotted behind you, “She’s too scared to go alone though, so she wants you to-”

“Lee Jangjun, I swear, I will end you-” You try to whisper threateningly, but he pays you no mind as he waves at who you now know is Sungyoon, finally coming out of his class. Both Joochan and Donghyun are laughing hysterically behind Jangjun, and in that moment, you’ve never wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole more.

“Hm?” You turn your head as Sungyoon comes to stand next to you. You simply gape at him, at a loss for words as he turns in his head to you curiously, “You wanted to go to that?”

“I- uh, well,” You try your best to muster up an answer, but to no avail. Curse you, Lee Jangjun!

He takes a long look at your face, definitely questioning why you’re acting so strange, before shrugging, “Sure, why not? I think it’ll be fun. Are you guys going?”

You silently plead with Jangjun, staring at him intently. Jangjun hums in thought, deciding to spare you a little.

“Yeah, we’ll be there,” You sigh in relief, not noticing Sungyoon sneak a glance at you.

---------------

“It’s not a date, it’s not a date, it’s not a date,” you repeat to yourself multiple times as you get ready. Yet, you can’t help putting more attention to your outfit, making sure your hair looks at least presentable. As you put on a touch of makeup, you frown. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve hung out with Sungyoon, let alone in a group- he’s your best friend! It is the first time in a while though, as you both have been very busy with school and extracurriculars lately.

“Get your head out of the gutter, Y/N,” You slap your cheeks, “You haven’t hung out with your friends in a while; It’ll be fun!”

---------------

“There he is,” You see Sungyoon leaning against a wall, his eyes glued to his phone. You quietly make your way to him, being extra careful to not get noticed. Once you’re close enough, you tiptoe and lean in close to his ear.

“Boo!”

“Oh, you’re here.”

You pout as Sungyoon simply turns his head in your direction, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“You didn’t even flinch,” You complain, feeling disgruntled. He snorts, pushing off the wall to fully face you. His eyes settle on your figure, making you nervously shift your weight from foot to foot. Silence envelops you as he continues to stare.

“Is there something on my face?” You try to break the silence, feeling shy under his gaze. He tilts his head before humming thoughtfully.

“You look nice,” Your cheeks grow hot almost immediately upon hearing his compliment. You don’t dare meet his eyes, knowing that you would probably combust. Instead, your eyes settle on your shoes, finding them very interesting.

“Ah- thanks,” You squeak out, racking your brain for an appropriate response, “We haven’t hung out in a while, so I thought I would dress up a little more? To not look like a sleep deprived college student, you know-”

Shoot, you were starting to ramble. Quickly shaking your head, you try to change the subject, “Where’s Jangjun and the others?”

“Did they not tell you?” You look up at his words, confused. Seeing the puzzled expression on your face, he continues, “Jangjun said they were going to be late. Something about Joochan and Donghyun fighting over this game, and they’re pretty serious about it.”

You stop yourself from screaming at the world.

“Let me message Jangjun real quick.” He nods his head as you take your phone out of your pocket. He doesn’t miss how your mood has soured upon learning of the absence of your friends.

6:49 PM

Y/N: Lee

Y/N: Jangjun

Y/N: You are dead.

Y/N: When I find you, you better run

🐮: Woah, Y/N, calm down!

🐮: We’ll only be an hour or two late, no biggie :9

🐮 : Have fun on your date tho~ But not too much fun, okay?

🐮 : ;))))

“I’m going to murder that guy,” You curse underneath your breath, letting out a big sigh as you put your phone back in your pocket.

“Everything okay?” You jump, remembering where you are. Sungyoon has an unreadable expression on his face as he studies you, and you try not to get too caught up in his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You try to reassure him, but your smile is weak, “Let’s just go.”

You both start walking towards the food stands at the entrance of the field, trying not to get too caught up in your nerves.

It’s not a date. It’s not.

“Y/N?” You look up, and find Sungyoon farther ahead than you thought he was. It’s suddenly crowded as everyone is trying to get food before the show starts. As someone pushes past you, Sungyoon’s hand reaches out to grasp your wrist and pulls you close to him.

“Be careful, it’s really crowded here.” Your head automatically nods, not trusting your voice to say anything as all your attention goes to the grip he has on your wrist. His hand lowers until your palms touch, and he squeezes your hand. His hold is gentle and warm, making butterflies dance in your stomach. You let yourself be dragged by the pull of his hand as he weaves through the crowd.

The time spent at the food stands is relatively enjoyable. Both of you haven’t eaten before coming, so you allow yourselves to look through all the stalls, buying all the food you want. You easily share your food and quickly fall into a comfortable pace, laughing and finally relaxing.

You do notice that once your hands are empty, Sungyoon reaches out to grasp the one closest to him. You convince yourself that it’s because he doesn’t want you to get lost, having experienced your lack of sense of direction first-hand. Still, you allow yourself a bit of giddiness, glancing down at your hands occasionally.

Having filled your stomachs, you both finally settle down on one of the provided picnic blankets laid out on the grass, the show nearing its start time.

As you hum absentmindedly, taking a picture of the darkening sky with your phone, you see Sungyoon staring at you from the corner of your eye. You turn your head in his direction, tilting your head, “What?”

He shakes his head, propping his chin on his hand, “Nothing, it’s just…”

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” He finally says after a long pause, turning his head to look up at the sky, “I feel like you’ve been distant lately? Not that I blame you, school is in full swing after all. But you’ve definitely been acting a little strange; I thought the stress was getting to you.”

He then turns to you, suddenly smiling, “But you seem to be in a better mood now, so I’m happy.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, the nature of his words dawning on you.

You really messed up, didn’t you?

Before you can respond, a loud horn goes off, signaling the start of the fireworks show. You both turn to look up the night sky as one after another, balls of colored flame shoot up and explode with a giant pop.

You lower your eyes to stare at Sungyoon, the fireworks casting various hues of color on his face, highlighting his features. You didn’t realize it, but you had probably grown more distant as your feelings for him bloomed, becoming too nervous to simply hang out with him anymore. And here he was, just happy that you were finally having a good time with him.

What a best friend you are.

You’re suddenly overwhelmed, feeling guilty for having worried him, yet grateful that he’s still the same Sungyoon that you met back in freshman year, the same person who is in tune with your feelings no matter the situation, who at the end of the day just seeing you happy makes him happy; he’s the one you fell in love with.

Before you can even process what you’re about to say, your mouth opens.

“Sungyoon-ah. I like you.”

You clasp your hand over your mouth, your eyes widening in surprise. Did you just-

You quickly bury your face in your arms, your face blazing. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode out of your ribcage, the embarrassment hitting you in waves.

You did not just confess, you did not, you did not-

“Y/N.” You refuse to look up, afraid of what you’d just done. You just confessed to your friend, your best friend! You feel tears well up in your eyes at the possibility of having ruined your friendship.

“Hey, look at me,” His voice is surprisingly gentle, not the tone you were expecting at all. You mentally count to ten in your head before gathering enough courage to look up at him. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes finally meet his, his face growing closer to yours.

“Can you repeat what you said?” He asks, not breaking eye contact with you as your body grows hot, keeping his gaze steady. The fireworks up in the sky are long forgotten as you visibly gulp before clearing your throat.

“I- I like you, Choi Sungyoon,” You muster out, willing yourself to not look away, “I like you a lot.”

The anticipation makes your stomach drop; you can hear your heart pounding wildly in your ear as you wait for his response. He gazes at you for a while before smiling.

“I like you, too.” He says easily, leaving you utterly shocked. He looks away as you gape at him, not believing your ears. He raises a hand to his nose, scratching it awkwardly.

“Wait- what- I-” Your mouth can’t keep up with your thoughts, your mind an absolute mess, “Did you- huh?”

It warms your heart when you finally catch the red glow of his ears- a shy Sungyoon wasn’t something you witnessed every day.

He shyly runs a hand through his hair, “I said I like you, too. And I have, for a while now.”

“Oh.” Your face quickly matches the shade of his ears, maybe even more so. But a wave of relief and giddiness passes through you and you can’t help but smile widely once the words process in your brain.

Because your best friend felt the same way about you.

You spend the rest of the night in comfortable silence, your heart still beating fast, but it’s a good kind of warmth that spreads through you, one that makes you feel like all is right in the world.

You don’t realize when he draws close, but suddenly your hands are touching, his shoulder grazes yours and his breath is right next to your ear. You slowly turn your head in his direction, your breath hitching upon realizing how close his face is to yours.

You close your eyes, grasping his hand as you take a deep breath and lean forward. When your lips meet, it’s like your heart is mimicking the explosion of the fireworks in the sky. All these feelings surge through you as you share a kiss, and you swear you’re flying.

As you part, you both look away shyly; your face is blazing, your heart still hammering in your chest. You don’t complain when he tugs on your arm and brings you close to him, letting you lean your head on his shoulder as you continue watching the sky together.

#golden child #golden child scenarios #golden child au #sungyoon #choi sungyoon #y #golden child y #golcha #gncd #gncd scenarios #sungyoon scenarios #y scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop #au #friends to lovers #woollim

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nehawriter16 · 4 years

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5.11.19 - my life is falling apart and other updates.

Hello internet.

Just wanted to talk today. I like Tumblr because not many people I know follow me on here. Also there isn’t a word limit, and sometimes a girl just wants to rant.

So this is me releasing all my thoughts into the world today.

1. ACADEMICS

I quit chartered accountancy. Just woke up one day, and told my parents I couldn’t do it anymore. That was a long week at home, and I know they’re disappointed in me. All along I’ve been a bright student, somebody who never disappointed and they could brag about at dinner parties. But this course cut me open. It hurt me, it sent me crumbling and it dragged me through hell. In the movie Dear Zindagi, Alia Bhatt is in therapy and Shahrukh Khan tells her that sometimes we keep doing the hard thing because we think we have to. And we forget that its okay to pick an easy way. I guess that’s what I’m doing. I’m choosing the easier way because the harder way made me unhappy, it made me unhappy to the point where I didn’t want to be alive anymore.

So the new plan is that I will give my GRE and apply to Masters in Finance courses in the US. Preferably in the STEM field, because its easy to get a work visa after graduating if you’re a STEM graduate. Do I think this is the perfect career path for me? No, absolutely not. But do I think it will do me good to finally move the fuck out of home, have a change of continent, meet some new people, and have the college experience I always felt I missed out on? Yes.

So this is what we’re doing. My GRE is in 12 days. I am barely prepared.

2. DRIVE/PASSION

I always had a passion for writing. I knew when I discovered it that it not only brought me joy, but I was pretty damn good at it. Unfortunately being brown, and coming from a family of people who had all built their career from scratch by making practical decisions, because they didn’t have a choice due to their humble backgrounds, I was always told that writing was a futile thing and would just be a hobby, not something to be looked at as a career option. I disagreed. Having made a bit of money from it now, I still disagree.

But I’ve been brought up in the lap of luxury and I have a pretty high standard of living. I like my weekly Starbucks and I go to bars that don’t have happy hours. I enjoy the bimonthly staycation in a fancy hotel, and I hate repeating outfits and thoroughly enjoy fashion, so I’m always buying new clothes. It makes me happy to look good.

So yeah, I agree that since I haven’t had the liberty to pursue writing full time, I haven’t yet found a way to make a living from it. Maybe it’s a risk, and a back up plan is advisable. But all I know is writing is the only thing I feel like waking up to do. Even now, when my life is falling apart, it’s the only thing that makes sense to me.

Growing up I was always a hardworking student. And if I wasn’t, my Mom made me that way. She would yell if I got bad marks, and she always encouraged that I at least be in the top ten in class. Even the school I went to was pretty much only concerned with academics. And so due to the environment and brainwashing, I did well. I stayed in the 90 percent lane all my life, all the way up to twelfth grade. In my junior college I had two of the worst years of my life. I was molested by my co caption for months on end, and I couldn’t escape him. It was constant mental, emotional and physical turmoil, more so because I couldn’t tell anyone. Despite how insanely difficult it was to spend six hours every day in the place where my molester showed up every day, I still managed to keep my grades high. I scored 92 percent, and my parents were happy.

I had no passion for finance, but since I had proved to be so bright, my parents said the only thing to do now was four years of Chartered Accountancy. After that, my life would be sorted. I passed the first level by studying for 2 months, while other people attended classes for a year. I passed the second level too. I got into one of the biggest global multiconsulting firms in the world for my internship, and my parents were happy. My life was on track, and it didn’t matter that I was crying in the cabs home from work because I was so miserable. It didn’t matter as long as the plan was being followed. After all, the plan was being followed and I was so goddamn close to the finish line.

Two years into my internship I decided I needed to quit, or at least shift to a smaller firm. The pressures in this one were too much and I was so sad I could barely make it out of bed. So I told my parents I needed to study for my finals, and they got me out of it. My mental health was derailing – but oh boy, was this just the beginning. I moved to a smaller firm and pretended to stay home on the weekends and study. Instead, all I did was lay in bed with YouTube videos playing on loop because I couldn’t bear to be alone with my thoughts.

2017 was the year my boyfriend broke up with me too, so all kinds of shit was hitting the fan at the same time. I was fucked up in every way. I started using alcohol to fall asleep, to wake up, to do pretty much anything actually. To engage in social situations, I’d carry around a quarter in my bag and drink it in the cab. It eased my anxiety and helped me smile at people in a more convincing way.

2018 sucked. So did 2019. These two years are a blurry flatline in my head. I have been drowning like the ground I walk on is quicksand, and the more I struggle to get out, the more it pulls me in. When I look back at my life’s work in the past two years, I see nothing. Nothing that counts as an achievement anyway.

I wasted them while everybody else was putting in the work to get into ivy league schools or pass exams, get their first real jobs kickstarted. I lay in bed and watched every tv show there was to watch with the curtains drawn. I ran through horrible men and gave my body up to practical strangers that I felt nothing for, and the ones I liked left me, like they always do. Yeah, I wrote two books. Made enough money to support my alcohol addiction, my shopping habits, my vacations and staycations. I blew it all off on the temporary ride of whatever would bring me happiness in the moment.

I lost myself. I lost myself to illness and addiction and worthless friends and denial. I’m still lost. I used to have a drive in my body, something that said wake up and get things done today. Instead, I’ve been doing the zombie shuffle through my own life. Sometimes I wake up and my first thought is – “How long till this day is over.” I count the hours until I can crawl back into bed, till its an acceptable time to go to sleep. Because the only place I don’t feel like my brain has a fucking dense fog rolling through it is when I’m sleeping.

I used to be brilliant, and I’ve lost my shine. I’ve lost my willpower, my ability to be the hardest working person in the room. I have gotten self destructive to the point where I procrastinate and procrastinate and then it’s too late for everything. I am so fucked up, you have no idea.

I don’t know what I should do to bring that feeling of wanting to do something perfectly back. You know, the feeling of studying so hard you know everything on the test. The feeling of being the best, no questions asked. The feeling of answering questions in class and submitting assignments on time and just…enjoying the process of academia that I used to love so much. But I guess in depression, your brain sort of grows old and tired. It can’t remember things. It doesn’t want to move, or think, or do anything difficult.

My memory is deteriorating and the moments I’m supposed to remember and the information I should retain? It gets lost more often than not. And I am so scared to assess the scale of this incompetency that I just don’t even try because whenever I do, it’s all so overwhelming and all the trauma from Chartered Accountancy comes swirling back to hit me in the head.

3. BODY IMAGE

As a result of my constant sadness, I had to find ways to make myself happy. The periods of happiness lasted for a short while, but I rode the highs to the fullest because I knew the darkness would be back eventually. I turned to alcohol and marijuana and nicotine, to the point where every three or four days I would need one or the other, if not all three in combination. I would drink every night to be able to fall asleep. In my cupboard there is a special collection of all the wine bottles that have acted as sleeping pills.

I also began to eat junk food, because carbohydrates make you happy before they make you feel like shit. All addictions are like that, actually. Swiggy was my best friend, and my array of lovers : greasy Chinese, McDonalds, any dessert place – just whatever was bad for your skin, fattening, but would be brought to you by a wonderful man on a bike no matter what the weather was, and was easy to eat and throw all evidence of out later and forget that somewhere on my body, this food would settle into another ugly layer.

In the middle I got sick of myself and went to the gym, started going at it hard. My body improved and the endorphins were definitely helping, but a few months in I stopped waking up. My brain said it didn’t want to anymore, and I, the slave to my depression, caved and listened. I haven’t been since. The swiggy orders keep coming in every day and I keep throwing the containers into the trash, changing quickly from one outfit into another so I don’t have to see what I look like naked.

But I know. I somehow hate myself for the disgust I have for certain parts of my body, and then for the part of me that knows it wants to “fix” them all, but is in constant battle with the part of me that says I shouldn’t feel guilty for taking up space or for being a curvy girl. But body positivity isn’t about a number on a scale, its just about whether you like your reflection in the mirror, whether it makes you happy. Mine hasn’t made me happy in a long time. But then again, what the fuck has?

Sometimes I’m in trial rooms with harsh lighting and I just stare at myself and call myself horrible names. I keep the lights off when boys come over and the clothes come off. I keep saying, “I have to lose 10 kgs,” but I keep ordering from Swiggy every time a depressive episode rolls in to make it go away.

I keep setting deadlines, like, “After this month, I will cut out sugar!” and “After this exam, I will go back to the gym!” but then I fuck up and I’m like, oh well. Maybe next month.

The bottom line is I despise my body and the way it’s started to look. It doesn’t help that my Instagram feed is full of women with perfect skin, defined abs, and perky butts with chiselled features. I want all of that. I want to feel beautiful, and beautiful is hard work. Which, of course, my brain pines after, but never actually lets me get out of bed to do.

4. DATING/LOVE

My last serious relationship ended in 2017. I briefly dated somebody exclusively in the beginning of 2019, but he turned out to be the biggest asshole of them all, and “didn’t realise” he was using me to get over his ex-girlfriend. He broke up with me over text, pretty much cheated on me, didn’t even explain himself until I found out from some mutual friends. After that I was done, I couldn’t take love anymore. I couldn’t let anybody in because every relationship I’ve ever been in has ended with me being the second choice or me being dumped or betrayed and left hurt and broken for years.

The trauma is too much. So I decided I was never going to let anybody leave me again or enter my life and find a permanent place in it. I became the biggest fuckboy of them all, despite my conscience that has always been a good, kind and sensitive thing. This player thing really isn’t for me, but it was fun for a while to trump boys and play mind games and make them feel inadequate about themselves, to stand them up and never call back and ask them to leave my house after I had gotten what I wanted, to only call when I wanted it again.

I purposely picked out the worst, baddest ones. Then I tamed them by being even worse than they were. In May I began speaking to somebody who was fun and hilarious and good looking and well off and who made my brain feel alive again. Every time he texted me I caught myself smiling, and all our conversations consisted of saying witty sarcastic things to each other. We went on one date and he kissed me in the car, but for some reason in real life his life was so different from mine, that I declared the kiss good (he put his hand in my hair and grabbed, in a non hurtful but very I’m-super-into-this way, ooofff) and the date a disaster. I don’t know whether I was just in denial of my now strongly sprouting crush, or whether I actually hated it.

As the months passed, I tried to get him to go out with me again. I’m not much of a pursuer, because I have always been the one who gets pursued. But this boy was different. We would talk a lot over DM and we would make fun of each other and his life was fabulous and exciting and I watched from the outside, and built him into a much grander version of who he is in real life. I do that. What made him even more attractive was that he didn’t want me, and I couldn’t figure out for the love of God why not. I thought I was the whole package, and I even started to act out a little bit in the psycho way he told me he liked his women, which is SO TOXIC but I had actually felt something for somebody after so long that I didn’t even backtrack. Anyway, it soon became clear that it was not going to lead anywhere because he just disappointed me, didn’t show up, and my ego took a hit. I let it go, mostly. Or I will, as time passes.

I think I deserve love. Not the makes you feel good and carries your bag when its heavy kind. I deserve the love that I am ready to give – the grand romantic gestures that would be so dumb, but somehow he makes them work. The cant live without you love. The we’re best friends and teammates and nothing, not even distance, not our past demons, will keep us from making it work. I want the kind of person who is so sure of who they are, so internally confident, and so absolutely sure that I am their soulmate that I convinces me. I don’t want to meet a lot of wrong boys, goddamnit. I’ve done my fair share of the wrong boys, I’ve paid my dues for the amount of hurt one person is supposed to have. Now I just want the right one.

Deep down, I know he’s not here. Not in this city, because that would just be a cruel joke. Imagine meeting your soulmate and then having to go to college in six months. Fucking shit. If the universe even pities me a little bit, it wont do that to me.

I sometimes wonder if my life only stays on track if my romantic life is going well. I mean, when I dated my last serious boyfriend, I had it all – I was skinny. I had a prestigious internship. I was passing my exams. The writing was flourishing. This is a very scary thought, because I don’t want to depend or co exist on somebody else for my happiness in any way. But I cant deny the fact that my entire life fell apart when that last boy, who I loved with all my heart, broke up with me. It hasn’t been quite the same since.

His life is going spectacularly well, though. Lots of women and a great job and enough money to buy plane tickets to different cities to meet these women when he wouldn’t even drive down three hours to see me in a neighbouring town. I hate how unfair life is. He’s found some amazing people that he has feelings for, that like him back, even though he’s the one who broke my heart. And I still haven’t found a single person who even makes it to the second date, and the only one who did was just using me as a placeholder while his cheating ex girlfriend took a vacation from their relationship. So how the fuck is that fair? Am I being given the worst kind of experiences because my broken heart produces a special brand of my best writing? If yes, then I’m tired. I’d rather be a mediocre writer, but I cant spend my whole life being abandoned and cheated on and dumped and taken for granted, especially when the kind of love I can give is loyal and abundant and pure.

That’s it. Those are my issues, or some of them. Honestly I’m tired of typing and want to retire to my safe space that is my bed, and the deep dark comfort of unconsciousness. I just thought I might feel better if I could release this into the world, before I feel a little better and write another post manifesting what I envision my life to be next year.

If you made it to the end, you truly love me and care for me. Thanks for sticking with me, I guess. I hope things get better. I used to say that the good thing about rock bottom is that there’s nowhere to go but up. I wish there was some kind of tracker that told you when you’d actually hit rock bottom, because all I do is keep on fucking sinking deeper and deeper.

#personal #life update #writing #fucked up

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varricmancer · 5 years

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Lost And Found | 1

Also available on AO3

Pairing: Varric Tethras x OC

Word Count: 4,075

Summary: Instead of the nothingness she had craved, Crystal woke up in the world of Thedas. What had once been merely a story that she loved now seemed very real and she was right in the heart of it all. She soon finds a reason to live again and a love in the arms of someone as quietly broken as her.

Warnings: Attempted suicide (not graphic, but possible trigger). The OC has depression and low self-esteem, so don’t expect her to be some bright mary sue. At the same time, this sounds darker than it is. It’s going to have fluff and comedy and all that eventually, but OC has some growing to do first. She’s just not the usual strong and easygoing character many oc’s are. She’s more of a delicate creature. Also, it is Dragon Age, so there will be descriptions of war/battles/violence.

Notes: And there we go, a beginning. This was nearly 10k, but I felt like that was too long for tumblr to handle each chapter, so I’ve cut them into smaller ones. So the next chapter will be here very soon. Regardless of how this fic goes in the future, I’m happy that I finally typed something up for this, after nearly a decade of wanting to. I played fast and loose with characters and timelines sometimes to fit my story, so don’t kill me. PLEASE let me know what you think.

The view was lovely.

The moon was full and bright, reflecting off of the rippling water in a way that called to her. It was so calm and quiet here tonight, unusual for this particular bridge. Almost like the world decided to finally do her a favor and make sure that no one was around except for the ducks to witness her one last dumb decision.

She was so tired.

Tired of everything. Tired of having nothing. Tired of being alone.

There would be no one to mourn her. No one to care.

She closed her eyes and let go.

It was time to rest.

As consciousness came to her, so did despair.

She couldn’t even get dying right.

Flashes of murky water filling her lungs turned into green shadows surrounding her, whispering as they pulled her lower. They promised it wasn’t her time. She had a purpose and somewhere she belonged. That she was under someone’s protection. That she needed to live more and become strong. She hadn’t believed them. Thought them to be some sort of hallucination.

Whatever had happened, she was apparently still alive.

Her eyes fluttered open, cringing as she realized her arm was killing her. She managed to raise her head up enough to glance at her left arm, seeing that it was wrapped in some sort of cloth sling. She didn’t remember hitting anything when she was in the water, but it certainly felt like something had happened to it. She could hear moans of pain and soft voices murmuring to them. She tried to sit up a little more, releasing a whimper as she realized her ribs hurt as well.

“Hush now. Lay back, child. You’ve been quite injured,” a soft voice ordered as they placed a gentle hand on her head to coax her back down. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Crystal. Crystal Foster,” she responded, looking up at the strange woman leaning over the little cot she was on.

The outfit the older woman was wearing looked strangely familiar, all crimson and gold with splashes of white. The tall headpiece bore similar colors and a name came to mind as she observed it.

But it couldn’t be.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Crystal. I am Mother Giselle. Do you remember where you are?”

Crystal knew she could be in one of three places, depending on the timeline, but she was almost afraid to voice any of them. The conclusion she was coming to about where she could be was insane. She must have finally lost her mind. Or maybe she was in a coma after being fished out of the lake. Maybe the afterlife was some sort of limbo where you just lived through scenes of whatever had brought you happiness during life.

“I...I am not sure.”

Mother Giselle pet her hair gently, trying to calm her as the slowly rising panic became more obvious.

“We are currently in the Hinterlands. This area is the Crossroads. Is anything sounding familiar, dear?”

Shit. She was in fucking Dragon Age. As in the video game she’s been playing and obsessing over for nearly a decade. She’s had dreams about this place before, but nothing so vivid. Nothing where she felt every ache in her body, could smell all the various scents of the little village outside, could hear conversations that she’d never heard in the game.

“Yes. I know where I am now,” she answered shakily.

Mother Giselle breathed a sigh that sounded like relief, probably happy she didn’t have someone that had lost their mind on her hands.

Little did she know.

“I’m afraid your arm is broken and two of your ribs are cracked, not surprising considering how high that tear in the sky was and with you being so small. We’ve been giving you healing potions and have set the bones in your arm, but those only go so far. Most of the mages skilled in the healing arts are either in the battle or have gone to Redcliffe, otherwise we would have had you healed and out of here within a couple of days. Instead, you’ll have to take it easy and drink some of the elfroot tonic every six hours.”

“Tear in the sky?”

Mother Giselle’s eyebrow rose in surprise. “Were you not aware of how you got here, dear? You fell from one of those horrid green tears right onto the ground below. Since they’ve appeared, we’ve only seen demons spew from them, but we had you looked over and you seem to be a regular human. The only other person we know of that just emerged from beyond like you is the man they are calling the Herald of Andraste. Perhaps you are here to aid him.”

“I don’t know about that, but I can assure you I’m not evil or anything.”

“That’s good. Now that you are awake, I will have someone bring you some water and broth. You’ve been out of it for a couple of days and we couldn’t get you to take much. You’ll want to sip the broth slowly, then we’ll move you onto solid food tomorrow. Do you have any family you’d like us to alert to your presence here? You’re going to have to be careful for a few weeks and it would be helpful to have a family member to assist you.”

“I don’t. There’s no one.” No one in real life or this crazy dream.

“I’m sorry to hear that, my child. This is a trying time for everyone; many here have lost their families as well. You’re free to stay in the village for the time being, if you’d like. I’d worry if you wandered off while you’re so injured. Once you’re fit, we could always use your help around the village. There’s so few of us left here and we need all the help we can get.” Mother Giselle sighs wearily and pats Crystal’s hand. “There’s a hut that just opened up that I can put you in for now. The owner passed away a few days ago after being attacked by bandits. We can get you set up tomorrow after you rest a bit more. I’ll ask Corporal Vale about supplies for you and perhaps some tasks that will keep you busy while you heal.”

“Thank you, Mother Giselle.”

“You’re welcome, child. Eat, sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mother Giselle left the large tent after speaking to someone that Crystal assumed was a healer. They nodded after whatever they’d been told, leaving together, hopefully to get the promised food and water. Her throat was killing her. She took a moment to glance to her right, seeing five other cots lined in the tent, filled with people in various states of health.

Crystal took stock of her situation. She was injured in the middle of the Hinterlands, a place that came from a video game. The NPC’s were talking and moving and breathing like real people. She didn’t know if she was dead or not so this could be a coma, some weird limbo thing, or she’d finally lost her damn mind. She supposed there were worse things to hallucinate about.

Except if she was in the Crossroads at the same time as Mother Giselle, that meant they were in the early stages of Inquisition, and there would be Mages and Templars battling everywhere. Not to mention, there was a shortage of food and other supplies. She wondered how long it would be until the Herald got here.

Crystal let herself have a little fangirl moment as she thought about the fact that she might see the Inquisitor in the flesh, and their party. Well, as flesh-like as whatever this insane dream would allow. Everyone else seemed real enough, why not them? She wondered who it was.

The chantry woman that Mother Giselle had been talking to before finally came back with a tray holding a bowl of broth, a small chunk of bread, some water, and a small vial of green liquid. She pulled a tiny table out of the corner and placed it in front of the bed, putting the tray on top of it and placing the spoon in Crystal’s unhurt right hand.

“Hello there! Make sure you drink your broth before taking your healing potion. You haven't had much in the way of food for a couple days and I don’t want you to upset your stomach. There’s a tiny bit of bread there, just in case you feel like you can handle it.”

“Thank you,” Crystal responded gratefully, stomach gurgling at the thought of food, even if it was just broth and bread. She doubted they had much more than this anyway, if the game was anything to go by.

Once every bit on the tray was gone, she attempted to drink the potion. It tasted similar to the wheatgrass shots she’d occasionally get at a smoothie shop when she wanted to pretend she was healthy. She shrugged and chugged it down, the healer giggling at her obvious disgusted face.

Once the hunger pangs were gone, Crystal could feel just how exhausted she was. How you could feel tired in a dream, she had no idea, but she decided to stop questioning everything and just go with it. She’d wake up eventually, she supposed. She hissed from the pain of her ribs as she adjusted herself back down on the cot. What she wouldn’t give for a pillow. She sighed and closed her eyes, falling into a deep sleep.

Of all the fucking places in Thedas she could have been thrown into, it had to be the damn Hinterlands. She hated this place enough in the games, but it was nothing compared to the reality of actually living here.

She’d been in the Crossroads for a total of three weeks and it was so far very much like an extended camping trip, only with more actual death around her.

The hut that she’d been given wasn’t completely horrible. The man that had lived here before had lost all of his family months before he himself had died, and he’d kept all of their things in here. She’d managed to find some clothes that had belonged to his daughter that was small enough for her to wear, and easy enough to deal with one-handed. The wife had plenty of clothes here, but with Crystal being a mere five feet tall, they were practically tents on her.

Unfortunately, the furs and blankets the man had in the hut had already been distributed among the survivors, leaving her with only one fur to put on top of the cot to make it somewhat comfortable, and a raggedy blanket no thicker than a light cloak to cover with. The nights were steadily growing colder and she missed the heating in her apartment.

Bathing was another issue. Crystal managed to wash up a bit by boiling some water at night and wiping herself down with a cloth, but without any soap there was only so much she could do. She usually braided her brown hair into one long rope, it being the only hairstyle she could manage with her hair as gross as it was. She’d heard that the people used to be able to get scented soaps from Redcliffe, but with the Templar and mage battles taking over the area they’d shut the gates and the village here had decided they had more important things to worry about than body odor.

Food was also getting incredibly scarce. Everyone was too terrified to go hunting with all the fighting everywhere. She remembered that there was an area filled with rams not too far from here in the game, but with only one arm functioning she couldn’t help. She’d tried to talk to others about it, but many here were still wary of the outsider and not willing to brave the fields.

Still, people were starting to fuss, but Crystal held onto the knowledge that the Herald would be here at any moment. She’d questioned Mother Giselle a few days after she’d first woken up, and she’d learned that word had already been sent to Haven that the need for aid here was great. As her stomach grumbled for the third time, she hoped it would be today. One bowl of what was basically hot water filled with herbs was all she’d had for the past couple of days, since she always passed the bread and jerky she’d been given off to the children.

Most of her time here had been spent helping with the wounded, although the blood and guts were something she still had trouble getting used to. She didn’t think she’d make a good healer anytime soon, but she made herself useful on the sidelines. Though the healers looked at her strangely for it, she often could be found sterilizing their equipment and bandages in boiling water and alcohol, having watched enough medical dramas to know a few things about cleanliness and infection. She tossed leeches out as soon as she spied them, remembering all the gruesome deaths she’d heard about due to bloodletting and their use.

Most often she could be found simply sitting next to the patients giving what comfort she could. They often entrusted her with letters to their families or begged her to just talk to them. She held their hand as they drew their last breath. Often, seeing how desperate some of them were to live made her feel guilty that she’d ever thought to give up her own life so easily. She knew that if she ever woke up or got another chance, the faces of the people crying because they didn’t want to go would haunt her enough that she didn’t think she’d make the same choice again.

As for her theory that this was all a dream, it was being tested on a daily basis. When she could feel the sharp pangs of hunger every day and hear the agonizing screams of the dying it was a little harder to believe. After burying little four year old Alice today because she got hit by a stray fireball when she wandered a little far from home, it seemed very real. Just yesterday she had the girl sitting right in front of her as she’d told a rapt group of kids the story of Pinnochio. She’d been full of laughter and questions, just the sweetest little thing. And now she was buried next to her mother who had died just a week prior, leaving her father all alone. He hadn’t wanted either of them on a pyre like they did with most of their dead here, and Crystal had stood up for him against the Chantry people telling him he shouldn’t. She knew that having them somewhere he could visit would be a great comfort.

There was no way that any dream of hers would force her to go through something like this, though. Not even if she was in some sort of limbo as punishment for what she’d done. These people were real and dying, but she didn’t know how or why she was here. Only the strange flashes of memory after she’d hit the water.

Crystal had escaped to her little hut after the small ceremony for Alice to mourn in peace. All of this death was so new to her that it was almost unbearable. She wished she had the courage to fight to make this stop, but didn’t think she could do it. She had the knowledge that could help, but to actually pick up a sword and go out there was madness. She’d be dead in minutes. Years of working in retail in the middle of a big city sadly did not prepare you for living in a battle zone.

To help keep her mind off things, she stood at the little side table that she’d converted into a sort of workspace. With everyone so busy actually using the potions to keep the wounded alive, there hadn’t been a lot of time for the healers to make the potions themselves. And the nearest Alchemist that anyone knew of was all the way in Haven. Crystal had taken it upon herself to help with that, figuring it wouldn’t be too difficult to brew a few potions with one arm. Though their supplies were running very low, she did the best she could with the instructions that one of the sisters had given her. She’d been told her results were good and she found the task soothing. When she was in here brewing, she wasn’t out there listening to the cries of pain and hunger.

She’d just thrown a handful of elfroot into her mortar -wishing it was a juicer instead - when a light knock rattled the rickety wooden door. Curiously, she wandered over and answered the door, smiling as the older man was revealed.

“Giles! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Giles was a sweet man, probably in his early fifties and acted like he was the mayor here. As the “village” was merely a series of houses placed around the crossroads, there was no mayor needed, but Giles worked like one anyway. He was a font of information and a horrible gossip, not a great combination in most cases, but luckily he was a kind man. He was one of the first to treat Crystal like an actual person instead of the freak that fell out of the sky.

“Came to share a bit of bounty. Knew you probably wouldn’t peek yer nose out of the door unless someone made ya. Going ta stay and make sure ye actually eat it all down and don’t give it away fer once too.”

The smell hit her first. The rich scent of warm roasted meat filled her senses. Her mouth began watering even before he pulled off the cloth to reveal a plate full of meat, a couple of potatoes, and a bit of cabbage. The pains in her stomach that she’d begun to get used to felt almost excruciating as she accepted the plate with shaking hands.

“Where did this come from?”

Giles patted his own belly that she noticed extended a tad more than usual today, probably having already feasted himself. He sat himself down in the old rocking chair in the corner, sighing loudly as he settled in.

“That lad they call the Herald came by with his crew. They ran into a bear on their way here and apparently had no trouble. Even brought some supplies from Haven with them, so we were able to make everyone a decent meal for once. Shame we have to wait for the bear hide to be tanned properly before it can be used, but that’ll be one more blanket for someone when it’s done.”

Crystal was already shamelessly digging into the meat with her bare hands as he explained, too hungry to care about things like manners right now. She’d never eaten bear before in her life, but she was so hungry this rivaled even the Wagyu beef she’d tried once, and that was supposedly the best steak in the world.

“See, lass, everyone is hungry but don’t think I don’t know why you’re that hungry. I’ve seen ya sneaking yer bread and whatnot to the little ones. Slow down so you don’t hurt your stomach there,” Giles wagged his finger, her only answer a pleased moan as she bit into the roasted potato. It was just a potato, but it could have been an ice cream sundae based on the way she relished it.

With her belly slowly filling for the first time in days, she was able to concentrate a little more on what Giles was currently rambling on about.

“Wait, did you say The Herald was here? I missed him?!”

“Well, ye were off helping with Thomas’s wee lass. They came and dropped everything off, had a word with the Mother and Vale and off they went. One of the villagers mentioned the field of rams up the hill so they’ve gone off to hunt for us. Said they’d be back in an hour or two.” Giles grabbed her mug, pouring her a glass of water and pushing it towards her with a nod that he wanted her to pause for a drink. She accepted it, her hand still slightly shaking from lack of food. She hoped she wouldn’t spill on herself, although that wouldn’t be the first time today.

Giles scowled, “Mother Giselle told them about ye and the boy's eyes lit up so I imagine they’ll want ta have a word. Just be careful and don’t let them talk you into doing anything you don’t want to do. If he’s Herald of Andraste, yer Andraste herself. He’s not the boss of ye.”

Crystal snorted, poking around her plate as she tried to pace herself.

“Pretty sure that’s blasphemy. What would Mother Giselle say?”

“Don’t rightly care, lass. You’ve done more for the people here than she has, and ye do it with only one working hand and nothing to yer name. You go out of yer way to help others before yerself, and the people can tell ye actually care. The Mother does it because she sees it as her duty. In fact, she’s been looking a little tubby lately while ye give the little ones yer share o’ the food.”

“Oh, hush. She does quite a lot too. I don’t have half of her skills.”

“Ye don’t need skills to have a heart, lass. People overlook ye because you’re such a quiet, wee thing. But I see ye. If I had any, I’d bet money that all of Thedas is going ta know yer name soon, and they’re all going to love ye.”

“You’re a drama queen.”

Giles lifted an eyebrow. “How am I a Queen, girl?”

Crystal giggled. “It means someone that is overly dramatic.”

“Why didn’t ye just say that then? Always with the strange words that mean something other than what ye say.”

Crystal laughed at Gile’s perplexed but amused grin before attacking the rest of her meal. She finished in record time, almost sad when she took the last bite of cabbage. Her stomach felt bloated, almost uncomfortably so, but she was full for the first time in weeks.

Giles took the plate from her, patting her on the head as he stood up from the rocking chair and walked to the door.

“They cleared out some of the road if you wanted to go looking for herbs for yer potions. There should be plenty of elfroot to the left of the main road. If ye walk a little further north, there will be plenty of spindleweed. I’ll tell Vale to lend ye a man fer protection.”

“Thank you, Giles. And thank you for the food.”

“Yer welcome, lass. I’m going to watch the roads while these newcomers roam if ya need me. Remember what I said. Don’t let them bully ye. You’re more than welcome to make your home here if ya want, or go with the lad if they can help with all that tear in the sky business.”

Giles left the hut, closing the barely stable door softly behind him. Crystal sighs wearily and sinks into the chair. She could feel her body working hard to get used to having food in it again and she felt extremely tired, much like she used to feel after a huge Thanksgiving meal when she was a kid. She didn’t think she had the energy to go hunting for herbs today. Instead, she’d hoard the bit of energy she had left so she’d be ready to meet the Inquisitor.

She still had no clue who it was. Giles hadn’t said anything about what race The Herald was, but he had called him a boy. Perhaps it was a human male. Giles was a very unjudgemental man, but even he would have said something if a huge Qunari had wandered into the village claiming to be The Herald.

At least she knew who the companions would be. The game always started with Solas, Varric, and Cassandra. Crystal had been very much looking forward to them getting here in the hopes that Solas would be able to properly heal her. If she continued the way she was, it would be another five months before her arm was healed. A mage like Solas could have her healed up in moments.

She was also very excited to see Varric. He’d been one of her favorite characters for years, and the thought that she was about to meet him in person blew her mind.

Crystal giggled to herself at the image of her fangirling over them, squealing like a nutjob. She knew that she wouldn’t do that, but the image of Cassandra having to deal with a crazy fan was hilarious.

She pushed herself up, humming to herself as she checked on the healing potion she’d already started. She had plenty to keep her occupied until they came back.

((AN: Don’t ask me why Giles suddenly sounded like he came from the highlands of Scotland. He told me what to say and I just wrote it down. PLEASE let me know what you thought of this so far. Since it’s my first attempt at writing for DA I need all the feedback I can get))

#Dragon age #DAI #DA #Dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #Varric #Varric Tethras #Varric fanfic #Varric fanfiction #Varric x oc

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shestillhasherquill · 6 years

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At the Heart of Darkness (1/11)

Hoorayy! It's time for my Captain Swan Big Bang fic's grand reveal. I am soooo excited for every one to read this. But before that, I would be remiss if I do not thank the Mods for organising this event. Go check out the other great fics and artwork on their tumblr: @captainswanbigbang They were so understanding when I had to miss a check-in and gave me an extension. I never thought I'd finish this story after I lost my dad, because there is A LOT of Father-Daughter content in this, but I pushed through because I wanted to get this fic out there. I love the idea, and I know it might not appeal to some people, what with Alice in the fic. To those people, I say: 'I respect your likes and dislikes. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it. Respect that I do, and I don't want negative comments or drama. Thank you.'

I can't thank Maggie aka @accio-ambition enough. She was more than my Beta, she was my bae-ta. She pushed me and yelled at me and got stressed out for me, while I chilled out. She has made me question myself and correct myself and been the best GD cheerleader in the world. I LOVE YOU, MAN. Most of the fic was panic written and if it weren't for @accio-ambition and @sambethe this would be a mess.

A HUGE SHOUTOUT to @sambethe for being a second beta practically, on top of being my artist, who made a KICKASS BANNER and a bunch of art that I CANNOT wait for you all to see. She's just the best, most understanding and kind-of always put up with my anxiety rants. Thanks, babe. Check out her original artwork post!

ALSO @downeystarkjr made 2 VIDEOS OF THIS FIC WHAT I'm crying you guys. They are amazing, she's amazing and just asdfghjkl; time for fic guys.

Summary: Killian Jones lives in the Land without Magic, with no memories of his family. Until Emma Swan comes into his life like a whirlwind, reminding about everything he had lost. He embarks on an adventure to destroy the Darkness, only to discover that Emma might not be telling him the whole story.

Rating: M

Content Warning: Mentions of Miscarriage, Angst, Gothel

AO3/FF.net

Prologue

“Papa, are you listening to me?”

“Of course, starfish. When am I not?” Killian answered, turning from the book he was reading and toward his daughter. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her dangling from a wooden beam by just her fingertips. “Alice Jones, get down this instant.”

“Will you catch me, Papa?” she called out, giggling. Suddenly everything around them turned dark, and Killian could hardly see. His panic rose, as he called out to his daughter. “Alice? Alice, answer me, love!”

“Papa, catch me. Catch me, Papa.” That was all he heard, echoing around him. “Don’t let me fall, Papa. Don’t leave me!” Alice’s voice grew from playful to frightful, the echoes growing fainter and fainter by the minute. Killian tried walking through the darkness, but it seemed Alice was moving farther away from him in the endless night. He was surrounded by it, like he was lost at sea.

A moment later, he could not hear her voice at all. “Alice? Alice! Where are you, darling? ALICE!” he shouted, his voice breaking.

Killian gasped awake, eyes shooting wide and hands grabbing tight on his sheets. It was that dream again, about the girl - Alice. Papa, she called him, but he did not have a daughter that he knew of. He had been having these dreams for years, and they never made any sense. He always woke up filled with an inexplicable desperation, like he needed to get back to that strange girl.

Every doctor he had been to had said the same thing - they were just dreams. How else could he explain the strange surroundings he found himself in during these dreams. Most times it was with this young girl, Alice, in some kind of a room, high up in a tower. Sometimes, there was another blonde woman, but he has never seen her face. He could not pick her out of a line-up if he had to, in all honesty. But unlike the dreams with the girl, whenever he dreamed of that woman, he woke up crying and his chest hurting.

There were days that he cursed these dreams - they remind him just how truly alone he was in this world. He had a brother once, who he served with in the Navy, but that seemed like it was centuries ago. He did not have a daughter, nor did he know blonde woman like the one plaguing his dreams. He had no one. Why would his mind taunt him so? Show him this life, in this strange land - when all he had was a 20-year sober chip and a job that doesn’t necessarily require him to stay in one place. He’d been searching, going from city to city, town to town, looking for a place to call home.

He’d been in this seaside town for the past two months, and as much as he enjoyed how quaint it was, it just didn’t feel right. Not that he could tell anyone what was - all he knew was he would feel it the moment it was right - he would have found home. Whatever this town was, it was not that.

Killian sighed, trying to put the dream out of his mind, slipping out of bed, grabbing his phone on the way. He punched in his agent’s number, putting him on speaker as he went about starting his morning brew.

“Hello, Jones. Which part of the world are you calling from now?” came Will’s voice, an undertone of exasperation barely concealed.

“I’m still in England, Will,” Killian replied, rolling his eyes. “No need to be an arse so early in the morning.” He turned on the coffee maker, grabbing his phone off the countertop. “Did you get the new chapters I sent you a couple of days ago?”

“Ah, that. Yes, I did. Great work, man. They are great, just a few notes from your editor. I’m sending you an e-mail about it as we speak. But we are quite ahead of schedule so far.”

“Good, good,” Killian mumbled. “I might be leaving this town soon. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Colour me surprised. What is right, Jones? You’ve been travelling like a fucking hermit.” Will’s tone was starting to grate on Killian’s nerves.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Sanders.” Killian scowled at the wall. He did not need yet another person questioning his decisions - he was doing enough of that himself.

There was a tense silence over the phone before Will finally spoke. “All right. I don’t have any rights to question how you live your life. Just remember that once you’re done with this book, you need to do at least some touring and book signings.”

Killian resisted the urge to groan. As much as he enjoyed the life of leisure being a published author offered, the public appearances and PR were his least favorite part of his job.

“Yes, I remember. There’s still time for that, is there not? I’ll be back stateside in three months.”

“For good? Or just for the book?”

“Well, it’s not to see your ugly mug, mate. I’ll talk to you soon, Will.” And with that dismissal, he hung up. He fixed himself a cup of coffee, carrying it over to his designated work station. He passed a mirror on the way, pausing to stare at his reflection. He stared at it long and hard, trying to find any change in it, but he didn’t. Not one grey hair, not one wrinkle. The same face he has been staring at for the past 20 years - nothing has changed. He realised this little fact about himself a few years ago. He has not aged a day in 20 years. He does not remember what triggered it - he does not remember much, if he was brave enough to admit it. His memory of the past 20 years are pristine, he could remember every single detail. But before that? It was all a blur, like a dream. One could only laugh at that irony: somehow his dreams seem more real than his past.

He shook his head, walking away from the mirror and sitting at his desk. Taking a long sip from his mug, he pulled his sketchpad towards him, grabbing a spare bit of charcoal and scratching out a rough portrait of the girl from his dreams, etching her image on paper, hoping to trigger something that would make him understand why he kept seeing her, why she called him ‘Papa’. And who the mysterious blonde was.

-/-

20 years ago : Enchanted Forest

Killian was woken from his slumber by soft murmuring around him. “Swan, settle down and go back to sleep, love,” he grumbled, reaching for his lady-love with an outstretched arm. They were finally able to convince Alice to stay the night with Smee while they stole a night to themselves.

When his arm met the sheets covering their bed at the inn where they’d spent the night, instead of Emma’s soft skin, his eyes flew open. He scrambled out of bed, reaching for his trousers when he heard her laughter. He turned around, pants hanging loosely around his hips, unlaced and held up with just his hand. There she sat, in one corner of the room, wearing his shirt - and naught else - a book in her hand. “You’re- you’re reading?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Hook. I was brought up a princess, you know,” she teased, sliding out of her perch, the book landing on the floor with a thud.

He grabbed her when she was within arms’ reach, hand curling on her hip, lips grazing hers gently. “Aye, I know, Princess.” He pulled back before she could deepen their kiss. “I am a little hurt that you chose to read a book, when you could have woken me up. We could have engaged in more, ah..enjoyable activities.” When he noticed her hesitation, he felt his insecurities flare up - it had been a while since he’d been with a woman. In fact, that wretched witch was the last person he had been intimate with. He backed away a little from Emma, his arms dropping to his side. “Unless, of course it wasn’t enjoyable for you, love. I- it has been a while.”

“Oh, no, no. Killian, no,” Emma was quick to assure him, her hand coming up to rest on his chest, right over his heart. “No, last night was perfect. You were perfect, I promise.” Her cheeks tinted lightly at the boyish grin that took over his face. She turned back to grab the large tome before she faced him again. “I was reading this - a grimoire. I wanted to see if I could find some way to break Alice out of that tower. I’ve been doing my own research, but I did not want to tell you and Alice before I found something concrete. I couldn’t do that to you.”

Killian felt his throat close up, his heart clenching at her gesture. He had always known that Emma cared for his Alice almost as much as he did - it was because of his love for Alice that it took him almost a year to warm up to Emma’s presence in their lives. But knowing something and seeing proof of it were two very different things.

“I- I couldn’t give up. I know I promised I would be more careful with my magic, but I just...,” Emma shrugged, trialing off, having mistook his silence for anger.

He was quick to reassure her, pulling her into his arms in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Emma. I do not know what Alice and I would do without you in our lives,” he whispered, his voice breaking at the end.

He felt Emma’s smile against his chest, her arms clenched tight around the book. “You never have to find out.”

-/-

Present : Land without Magic

There were so many things Killian was grateful for, but the internet had to be the most important. It was much easier to find a great place to stay, that still afforded him the solitude that he craved, thanks to the wonder of AirBnB. He rubbed his hands together, warming them up as he walked down the small hill his lone house was on, his reusable shopping bag and notebook keeping him company. As much as he has moved around, he was still a creature of habit. He had made himself the same dinner every Saturday - a pot of hot stew and some marmalade sandwiches for a light snack later. And every Friday, like today, he would walk into town, hit up the local markets and do a spot of shopping. Then, he would spend the day people watching, sitting at the benches in the city center. He would describe everything he saw around him - from the changing weather, to the street musicians playing their tune. The sight of the fresh fruits and vegetables at the market; the ruckus created by students who had survived yet another week. All of it, he would note down - he would build his own stories, even.

He might fool everyone, sometimes even himself, into thinking all of this was for research. But he had been doing this for as long as he could remember, as if he was writing things for someone stuck in a prison, hoping that his writing would provide them with some semblance of the world outside. He couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t done this - but he had no one to share these stories with. So even as he filled notebook after notebook, each of various shape and size, some leather bound with parchment paper, some of them scraps of napkins bound together - even as he recorded everything, the only purpose it served was collecting dust at the house he had in Atlanta - the one and only residence he has had throughout his adult life. The same one he had bought twenty years ago, a quaint blue house with a wraparound porch and a white picket fence, waiting for the day it will be called ‘home’.

And so like clockwork, Killian sat at his usual bench, his view of the town unencumbered from this point, and observed the ongoings. Somehow, this time, his heart was not in it. His dreams had become more frequent recently, and he was loathe to go back on the pills he had been prescribed. They stopped the dreams completely, but that made him feel even worse, even more alone. As much as the dreams - and their characters - haunted him, their absence made it harder for him to survive his lonely existence.

Will had told him over the years that if only he would put himself out there, if only he would come out of his shell and interact, even if it was to simply make a friend, he would feel much better. But he never felt inclined to; he felt like he was supposed to be miserable. He was used to this feeling, and somehow, letting go of it seems unfathomable.

He snapped himself from where his thoughts drifted to, his gaze refocusing on what was in front of him. And the moment his vision became clear, the first thing he saw was the same head of blonde hair from his dreams, disappearing around the corner. He blinked, his breath caught in his throat. He stood immediately, squinting at the lane where he caught the glimpse of the blonde - hair the exact shade of spun gold as from his dreams. His bag and notebook forgotten, he took off in her direction.

For so long, he had been struggling with thoughts that maybe his dreams were more than just that, but had dismissed the thoughts almost as quickly as they had come. But something in his heart told him to follow the blonde, that maybe she might help - whether it was to break the illusion or to strengthen it, he wasn’t sure yet. He wasn’t sure what he wanted the outcome to be either.

He went around the corner he had seen her turn, which led him down a tiny alley. The only place that seemed to be open was an antiquities shop, with a single flickering light on at the display window. Alice and her ‘round the world Wonders, the sign read.

“Alice…” he whispered softly to himself, his incredulity evident. “It can’t be.” He pushed through the door, the bell above the door ringing through the empty shop.

“Hello?” he called out, suddenly feeling a little breathless, as if in anticipation. He waited with bated breath, but no one turned up for a whole two minutes. Just as he was about to call out again, someone pushed past the curtains, stepping through.

Killian felt disappointment settle in his chest when he saw the woman who walked into the room. She was definitely blonde, but she was not the woman from his dreams, of that he was certain. All the built up anticipation of the past few minutes drained out of him. He simple stared at her unable to do much more than force a smile in return to her smiling at him. He was certain the woman he’d seen turn down the alley had been her, but it was not the woman from the shop.

She was dressed plain enough, but her heavy array of braids gave her an air of eccentricity; and as friendly and welcoming as she seemed to think her smile was, it made the hair on the back of Killian’s neck stand up.

“Can I help you?” she asked him, approaching the counter.

As much as he wanted to bolt from this shop, and from this woman, he had a feeling she might have some answers for him. “Erm, no. I was simply looking around,” he replied after a long pause. He turned around, pretending to be interested in an old windmill, running his finger over the blades. “Curious name your shop’s got,” he commented. “Alice… is that you?” he asked, smiling and hoping that she wouldn’t suspect anything, before turning away.

He noticed her stiffen out of the corner of his eye, before she cleared her throat and plastered a smile back on her face. “Ah, no. I knew an Alice, a very long time ago. The name just felt fitting.” She waited a beat before adding, “I’m Eloise. And you’re Killian Jones.”

Hackles raised, he turned to face her again, his jaw clenching involuntarily. “How do you know my name?”

He could have sworn he saw her smirk, but he blinked and it was gone, replaced by a sheepish smile. “I’m a huge fan of your books - the life of a pirate captain and all that.”

Killian was not entirely convinced by her answer, but he had no real reason to doubt her, save for an odd gut feeling. “I did not realise you’d recognise me.”

“Yes, you do look a bit different with the beard,” Eloise commented. “But not unrecognisable.”

Something in the way she phrased it made Killian feel like he was under sharp scrutiny. Whatever he was looking for, this Eloise seemed to have a whole other agenda, one he was not going to wait around and watch play out. “I should get going. But it was nice to meet you Eloise.” Killian started retreating, but she stopped him.

“Wait! I would be really happy if you took a token of appreciation. Your stories mean a lot to me, especially the Princess you write about.”

“The Swan Princess?” he asked, unable to help himself. He felt a strong tug in his chest when he said those words, as if it recognised who he was talking about. But that was impossible: the Swan Princess was just a character that he had made up.

Instead of dwelling on those thoughts, he simply said,“I am really glad you like my work, lass. I appreciate it. But I must get going.”

“Of course. I don’t want to keep you long.” Eloise pulled a painting from under the counter, holding it out to Killian.

He stepped closer, looking at the painting of a ship in the middle of the ocean depicted in the calm before the storm. As mesmerising as the painting itself was, he was more concerned with the signature at the bottom - Alice.

“Who did this?” he demanded, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. “Who is Alice?”

Eloise brows furrowed in concern at his harsh tone. “Mr. Jones, I’m sorry if I did something to offend you. But I simply wanted to give you this painting because it reminds me of your stories. As for Alice...well, she did make this. But I’m afraid she’s not with us anymore.”

Rationally, Killian knew that there was no way that the Alice Eloise spoke of was the girl from his dreams. But his heart clenched just hearing that. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he muttered, walking away from Eloise and her store, leaving the painting behind.

As soon as he was out of sight, Eloise’s startled expression slipped into a smirk. “Oh, I finally found you, Captain Hook,” she whispered. She flipped the ‘closed’ sign on the door, and headed into the backroom again.

-/-

20 years ago : Enchanted Forest

“Do you really think it is a good idea to keep this from Alice?” Emma asked, biting her lip. “She might want to know - she was vying for this.”

“As much as I want to shout from the mountain tops how much I care about you, Emma - and it is a lot, believe you me, lass - I just do not want her to think this is more than it is.” When he saw Emma’s face fall, he wanted to kick himself for how he phrased it. “I didn’t mean to sound so flippant, love. I don’t want any kind of pressure on you, and if we tell Alice, she might think that we are-”

“So let her,” Emma said, cutting him off. She stepped up to him, her eyes meeting his determinedly. “There’s no pressure here, but I’m in this for the long haul, Killian Jones. If that scares you, well, I-” She huffed, losing steam. “I’ll have to challenge you to a duel - and I will end up defeating you.”

Killian grinned widely at her, kissing her chastely. “Aye, I have no doubt you will, darling. I would gladly surrender to you, Your Highness.”

Emma flushed, slapping his arm lightly. “Are you ready to tell your daughter that she will soon be free?” Emma could swear that the smile that took over her pirate’s face rivaled even the bright rays of the sun.

-/-

Present : Land without Magic

“Ms. Swan? I think I found the man that you have been looking for.” Emma sat up straight at that. While she had hoped utilizing Mr. Castle’s private investigation services would come to fruition, she had not realised it would be quite this soon. If she had realised how efficient this land’s resources were, she would have relied on them much earlier.

“Are you sure? Killian Jones?” she asked, starting to pace.

“Ms. Swan, Killian Jones is quite a famous writer. I am not unfamiliar with who he is.” Emma could almost hear his condescension. “But he is elusive and an extremely private person, so he was a bit harder to track down.”

“But you did, did you not? Track him down?” Emma asked, irritated by Castle dragging the issue.

“Of course, as I assured you. He’s in a small town in south-eastern England. He is coming back to the United States in three months for a book tour.”

Emma’s elation was unparalleled to anything else in the world. She clutched the ring hanging around her neck tight, as tears pricked behind her eyelids. “Thank you, Mr. Castle. Do you have an address?”

Once she had hung up on the call with Castle, she let a few tears fall - tears of joy, of course, but of sorrow as well. She had to bring him back to all the chaos and pain that he had left. She had to bring him back before she had the cure she’d promised him. She absentmindedly rubbed at her chest, an echo of pain and frustration running parallel to her own emotions. It had been twenty years, but she would never get used to this connection she had with Killian - a curse and a blessing all in one; her life was tied to his in many ways, and being able to sense his feelings was the cruelest of it all.

She could still remember so clearly the day they had parted, could feel the flow of the energy as he linked their lives together; she was unable to age, just like all Dark Ones. Because of him, her light magic was forever corrupted now. She hated him for that: she hated him for leaving her with all the pain and the memories, while he walked into another world, without her, without Alice, and without his memories. But she could never hate him more than she loved him. Emma touched the ring again, her heart settling as she remembered his promise to her - the promise of a happy future, no matter how long it took them to get there. She had made him a promise in turn - to find a way to cure him of the darkness that plagued his soul - and to not come for him before then.

Unfortunately, Gothel had a more sinister plot in mind. After two decades, she had managed to break free of her bonds. Emma had no choice to come for him before that wretched witch found him. Killian was not the only reason Emma had come, of course. There was another person she needed to save, but she knew she had to find Killian Jones first. He would be the only one who could get Alice back.

-/-

Eloise waved at the back wall of her store, sparks of dark magic expelling from her hand. The wall shimmered before disappearing completely, revealing an elaborate garden on the other side, with a glass coffin in the middle, covered in vines. She walked up to it, her hand running over the vines, watching as they retreated at her touch.

“Oh, Alice, dear. You’ve been resting for quite a while, haven’t you?” she whispered, not a hint of remorse in her voice. She stared down at the slumbering girl, looking child-like and peaceful in her spell-struck state. “I just can’t have you meddling in my plans, dear. Your father can’t be compromised, not until I can get my hand on his dagger.”

#cs ff #cs angst #csbb #csbb fic #knightrook

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prettyfunkyunorganized · 6 years

Text

Sugar Daddy Hanzo part 10

Good evening everyone! Or whatever time of day it is where you are. I’ve got another chapter for you today, but first a few announcement-y things:

1. Just moved and started grad school so I’m busy AF, so if chapters continue to be a bit shorter than they were at the beginning, that’s why.

2. I am starting up a new tag on my blog that will be side info about this story - stuff written from Hanzo’s POV, fun facts, ideas I’m considering, and questions for you! You can always submit questions too via the ask feature on Tumblr or you can use the tag #sugardaddyhanzoextras (sugar daddy hanzo extras). That is the tag I will be using for all this type of content and if you would like to be tagged, feel free to let me know!

3. I love you.

So yeah, that’s it! Here are 2,800ish words of mush essentially.

BTW, this whole business world AU is based on my bud @watch-your-grammer‘s post here. She’s glorious and so is her work.

The rest of the story: pt one, pt two, pt three, pt four, pt five, pt six, pt seven, part eight, part nine

Waking up had never been so difficult. Your eyelids dragged, almost impossibly heavy, but not nearly as stiff as your arms. Every shallow, tentative breath was a struggle, and your chest ached with each inhale. Each exhale. You looked around the brightly lit room and frowned. “Guess we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” you grumbled to yourself, “or maybe I’m the witch – certainly feel like I’ve been hit with a house.”

By some odd circumstance, it looked like you had the room to yourself, the bed to your right was folded up tight with precise corners as starkly white as the walls and ceiling above you. Everything was so . . . sterile, as if you had been transported to your very own dimension, removed from the rest of Earth. It was unsettling.

And sad.

Your chest tightened in a familiar way that had nothing to do with your injury, it was a painful manifestation of your growing disappointment and loneliness.

“You’d think the gals would at least come by to see me,” you whispered as tears welled in your eyes, “and if getting shot isn’t enough to get Mom and Dad to come visit me, what is?”

In a burst of realization, you remembered what had happened and put a hand over your breast, a powerful tenderness warning you to be gentle.

“Holy fuck I got shot,” you gulped looking for the nurse call button and slamming it while trying to tame your breathing.

After a brief pause that seemed to last ages, a nurse swung open your door and scuttled in, but not before you saw what looked like a dark suit a dark expressing in the hallway.

“Well, hello there,” the tall man in scrubs said with a smile. The bright corgi pattern on his shirt relaxed you for some reason, maybe it was because that was the first bit of color you had seen since you awoke.

“Hi,” you said softly.

“You look scared,” he murmured kindly, “don’t be. We got you all patched up, and you’re going to be fine.”

“Oh thank goodness,” you sighed, running your hands over your face. Of course you knew that you were alive, but hearing a nurse say ‘you’re not dying’ still made you feel a thousand times better.

“Do you remember what happened,” he asked. You nodded. “Good. And how are you feeling?”

“Uh,” you hesitated, “pretty shitty? But not dead so, I could be worse?”

He chuckled, “Very true. Feeling sore in your chest, right?”

“Oh yeah,” you groaned.

“We will get you something to help with that and check over your bandages here in a sec, I just want to tell you what we’ve done on our end if you’re feeling up to that.”

“Sure,” you nodded, trying to glance out the window so you could figure out if what you had seen was what you were desperately hoping to see. Then again, it was a hospital, and there were likely hundreds of patients here with worried family.

And Hanzo wasn’t family.

And he hadn’t taken you back.

And the nurse in all his corgi covered glory was in your way.

“Alright,” he said looking at the digital display on his arm, “you were brought in with a bullet wound in the chest, it went right through you, but went through your lung.”

“My lung,” you gaped in horror.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “that is what caused you so much trouble, but medicine has come a long way, and we were able to have your stem cells from your baby teeth flown in and have started growing you some new lung tissue. We had to do one surgery to keep you alive, so your left lung is currently dormant, and your right is doing all the work, which is probably why you’re likely feeling a little like you’ve been running a lot and haven’t quite caught your breath. Once your new tissue is ready, we will get you into the OR again have you feeling right as rain before you know it.”

“Wait,” you said reeling at what he’d just said. You knew your baby teeth could provide stem cells for fancy medical stuff, but patching up your lung? “So . . . you’re going to be able to just cover up the holes in my lung?”

“Yes, ma’am, just like a punctured tire.”

“Ew,” you grimaced at his analogy.

He laughed, “Yeah, sorry. The other nurses say I’ve got a way with words, but I’m not sure if they mean that as a compliment.”

“I mean, it helped me understand,” you shrugged, “but is my lung still going to be able to function normally with a patch? Am I not going to live as long or something because of this?”

“Actually, the procedure has been tested very thoroughly on patients with lung cancer, and there is very little if any loss of functionality. Patients with renewed lungs climb Everest, run marathons, and live long healthy lives – so long as they take care of themselves, that is. If you eat fast food every day or do drugs and die young, you can’t blame that on the new tissue.”

“Of course,” you nodded. “That’s pretty god-damned amazing.”

“It sure is,” he beamed, “the biggest inconvenience is the post-op checkups and drugs to help encourage faster healing, but all that will be finished up in a few months.”

“Good to know,” you sighed, a thin smile forming on your lips.

“Anything else you need right now, or should I start taking a look at you?”

“I – well, actually,” you fumbled, try to lean over and see the window, but you cringed at the pain, “could you just tell me if I have anyone out there waiting to see me? I – I thought I recognized someone.”

“You sure do,” the nurse said with a playful shake of his head, “you’ve had lots of people come in and out to see you, but it’s late at night right now, so the only one here at the moment is the older gentleman in the suit who basically never leaves. Man’s practically a part of the furniture now.”

You grinned so wide your chapped lips hurt, but you couldn’t stop. “Is his name Hanzo? Is he still out there? Will you tell him not to leave yet?”

“Calm down, calm down,” he laughed, backing toward the door, “I’m sure he’s still here, and I’d be happy to tell him you want to speak with him.”

“Thanks,” you said, blushing at your girlish excited outburst.

Without entirely closing the door behind him, the nurse spoke quietly with Hanzo, who had been waiting with an impatient look on his face. The instant you saw him you were relieved. In all honesty, you would have been happy to see anyone you knew out there, but knowing it was him was almost too good to be true.

The nurse came back in and asked you a few more questions while surveying your condition and giving you a bit of pain medication, but ‘not enough to make you all loopy,’ as per your request. Pain meds had always given you the creeps. It was awkward to have a man you’d never met poking your bandaged up boob while the other one laid out in all its glory, but thankfully as soon as you wrapped your hospital gown back up, Hanzo was waved in.

“Hey,” you said as he closed the door behind him. You did your best not to look like a giddy schoolchild, but you were far too happy to be in the same room as him again. Part of your uncontrolled emotion was definitely the drugs, but not all of it. You didn’t care if you shouldn’t be so enraptured to see him, at least not now. You had been shot, you could feel however the fuck you wanted.

“Good evening,” he responded lowly. The distant tone in his voice made you face fall flat, and the physical distance he kept between you made you pull your knees closer to your chest sadly.

“I was, um, well I was kind of surprised to see you here,” you admitted sheepishly.

Hanzo sighed and looked away. “Yes, I probably should not have come, but I felt I had to. That, and I could not find the will or focus to do anything other than sit here and wait for news on your condition.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said softly, “extremely so.”

His lips pursed as his gaze landed on something next to your head. “You are the only one who has been happy to see me here.”

You twisted around as far as you could until your chest muscles griped at you to stop. There was a tiny speaker clipped to the bed frame with a note attached to it. “That sweetie,” you chuckled as you read Lucio’s message:

‘Sorry I couldn’t stick around ‘til you woke up! If I missed another tour date, the bosses were going to have some fried frog legs at their next meeting. Call me THE SECOND you wake up and know that I’m thinking of you. Lots of hugs, your best-est client.’

“He’s always so good to me,” you said shaking your head and the sad frog sketch Lucio had done on the other side of the card.

“I am glad you have found someone that has made you happy,” Hanzo said almost inaudibly, his eyes turned to the ground, bangs in his face as if trying to hide the sour look on his features.

Was he . . . jealous? Clearly you were feeling a little better because the devious part of your mind was suddenly much more awake. No, you shouldn’t be happy that Hanzo was feeling all put out at the fact that you had someone new if your life, but shit! How many people got to see the illustrious Hanzo Shimada practically dripping in envy?

Plus, it meant that maybe – just maybe – you had a chance to have him back.

Maybe it took almost dying to realize that you were willing to give Hanzo another chance, or maybe that bullet had torn right through your resolve, but you knew what you wanted now, and you were ready to admit it. More than that, you were ready to fight for it.

If Hanzo really wanted you to find love with someone else, fine, you understood, but you weren’t going to just walk away. Not again.

“Perhaps I should go,” Hanzo said abruptly, “the nurse assured me that you will be fine and now that I have seen you for myself I believe I am feeling much more assured. Goodbye, and I hope you – ”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you shouted, sitting up and groaning at the way your body protested. You were shot in the chest, so why did your back feel like agony, too?

Hanzo turned back you, looking very unsure of himself. “What is it?”

“You know Lucio is just a friend, right,” you asked.

He scoffed and glowered at the door. “That is not what the tabloids say.”

“Since when do you put stock in the tabloids,” you said giving him a skeptical look.

“There are photos,” he said grimly, crossing his arms and keeping his gaze off you.

“Of what? Me and my friend walking into a party together? We may have been ‘arm in arm’ and all that, but people do that all the time. He’s just a public figure, so everything gets blown out of proportion,” you said matter-of-factly.

“The pictures of him covered in your blood and sobbing as they brought you to the hospital are quite . . . telling,” he insisted.

“Hanzo! I had just been shot! And he’s one of my friends! One of my best friends, in fact. If Gabe were to be gunned down in front of you wouldn’t you be looking a little disheveled?”

His head bobbed as an admittance that you had a point.

“Come here,” you demanded, holding a hand out to him. His body went rigid, and he didn’t move. “Please,” you pouted, beckoning him again.

This time he slowly made his way to you, stopping far enough away that you had to lunge forward a bit to grab his hand and yank him closer. His eyes were wide with surprise, or maybe concern, but fingers curled automatically around yours. You brought his knuckles to your lips and place a gentle kiss on them, the tension in Hanzo’s shoulders floating away, letting his perfect posture slip into a more relaxed stance. You were glad you still had that effect on him. Big oaf needed to pull that stick out of his ass every now and again.

“Lucio means a lot to me, but not the way you do,” you told him in the most earnest tone you could muster. “You’re the only person I want to be with, you’re the one that I wanted with me more than anyone else when I thought I was dying, and you’re the person I most wanted to see when I opened up my eyes in this place.”

“You know,” Hanzo said with a small smile, “you make it very hard to stay away from you.”

He leaned against the rail of your bed and set his palm on your cheek gingerly, you leaned into its warmth. “I guess getting shot has its silver lining.”

“I vehemently disagree,” he barked firmly, “it should not have taken a gunshot to bring us back together. A conversation would have done just as well.”

“Hey, for the record, I tried that,” you retaliated. “That night in your brother’s big fancy bathroom I wanted to talk about it but you – ”

Hanzo silenced you by placing his thumb over your lips, and you giggled, kissing the pad of his finger in delight. Having him this close again was everything you had hoped it would be. “I am sorry for that night,” he said tenderly, “I was only trying to – ”

“Trying to do the right thing,” you finished for him, nodding understandingly. “I know, and I was, too. But I don’t care about what’s ‘right’ anymore. I don’t want to give up on what we could have together, and I know you’re on the way to changing. I’m tired of chasing the ideal of what should happen. I just want to be happy, and you make me happy.”

“My beauty,” he cooed, placing a long kiss on each of your temples, “you make me happy, too.”

“Does that mean you’ll be with me again,” you asked, wriggling closer to him.

“How could I say no,” he chuckled, dancing his fingers along your exposed arm until you shivered, making him grin.

The two of you basked in each other’s presence, but no matter how hard you tried to keep from overthinking things, you had to ask him something.

“Hanzo?”

“Yes?”

“Will I be your sugar baby again or . . . ?”

“I – well – ” he stammered, clearing his throat to buy him time to find an answer.

“The full-fledged relationship idea still freaks you out, doesn’t it,” you asked worriedly.

“Yes,” he huffed frustratedly, “though I do not know why. I know I want to be with you, and I know that I want more than that sort of arrangement with you, but there is something about that word, that step that just . . . fills me with a dread I do not understand.” Hanzo looked down to you, an ashamed expression on. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you said stroking his jawbone, “I don’t mind being your sugar baby again, but I’d like to set down a new set of rules and whatnot.”

“Of course,” he said, sounding relieved, “I believe that would be necessary.”

“But you are still going to your therapist, right?”

“Yes,” he said with a strong nod, “and this is something we have discussed lightly, but, as you know, there is much about me that needs to be . . . dealt with.”

“We’re all a work in progress,” you assured Hanzo, pulling him down so you could kiss him on the nose. The token of affection made his face go a little red, and you burst out laughing. “Good god I missed you and the way you blush, handsome.”

“I am quite convinced that you are the only one who can make me blush,” he grumbled, smirking just a tinge.

“Oh I bet Genji could tell me some fun stories that would make you all flustered,” you teased.

“Just who’s side are you on,” he said with a scowl.

“Mine,” you said brightly, “a girl’s got to put herself first, you know, and that’s what I do.”

“And I adore you for it,” Hanzo hummed, meshing his fingers into yours.

“Don’t worry,” you said, giving him a gentle squeeze, “I’ll always be in your corner, though.”

“A fact that makes me infinitely stronger.”

“I’m glad you realize that,” you said, beaming at his progress, “a couple of months ago I pegged you for the ‘I don’t need anyone’ type.”

“I have since learned a few things, met a few people who have shown me otherwise,” Hanzo said, holding your clasped hands to his heart.

@collinssie @watch-your-grammer @zarcake-writes @yesthisisbae @eebbapanda1@deercapitate @missbumblina @skyrina @justjaaaay@thewetbones@skyelentnight @ilovebva @punk-dork @cbrokeherboobs@sobanoodledragon@sydniesamm @honeyburger @knightofsexyness @queenoflabyrinths@speakingishard @iknowimcutethanks @ninevast @ivymarquis @sydniesamm@barbie-the-centrist @tumblertrash @angle0fthegourd@shaybae1997 @lillypet95 @rusty-potato @tt-nikithakppr

** please let me know if you would like to be tagged or removed from the tags in future updates and sorry if I missed anyone, I feel like tumblr is deleting my shit**

#Overwatch #hanzo #hanzo x reader #sugar daddy hanzo #reader insert #mine #my drabble #overwatch drabble

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renn-and-the-trashcan · 6 years

Text

PTA Sans Cares Part 1: Low Parking In Hell

So... I’m sorry for taking so long. I have zero excuses, I’ve had this posted on my AO3 for months now, and I’ve simply lacked any motivation since to write or do anything. I stopped using Tumblr almost entirely for months (one or two blogs aside), and now here I am. Alas, I’ll be going on vacation to visit family for a few weeks, and with my tablet broken I wont be able to post at all, so sorry. I’ll try to write in my journal, but only now am I feeling inspired to do... well, any writing after a month or two (or... How long have I not done anything?), and I leave in three days. That said, here you go, a few story notes, then the story itself. Enjoy.

Summary: Months have passed since the Barrier was broken, and Sans is doing much better. He's making it through life with the aid of all his friends and has been seeing a therapist “in secret” the last few months. Still, things could be better, but he's trying.

Notes: As stated, this takes place months later. This chapter focuses mostly on contrasting with the first and showing Sans' progress, as well as setting up a few things for later. We get to see how Frisk has grown and where they are living with Toriel, which will be touched on more later. This chapter isn't nearly as implicative as the first when it comes to dark tones and ideas, and can serve as starting point should you wish to skip the prologue. Anyway, here goes nothing. If you have any criticism, please tell me what you think. Thank you very much for doing so, and for reading this.

Sans slowly woke up, hearing the alarm next to his bed going off.

He reached over, and smacked his hand down onto it, sinking back into the mattress and sheets as the cursed ringing ceased.

He took a deep breath. Alright Sans, gotta get up... even if it’s heaven.

Slowly, he sat up, wiping the sleep out of his sockets and pushing the sheets aside. He walked over to his dresser, and began digging through for a fresh pair of clothes (not bothering to change out of the boxers he slept in).

He put on a green t shirt and orange running shorts, grabbing a light blue hoodie off the back of his desk chair while walking out of the room.

Papyrus heard the door open, peeking his head out the kitchen and up to the railing. “Good morning Brother! How are you today?!”

Sans walked up to the railing, smiling down at Papyrus. “Eh, doin’ good Bro. Howzit for you?”

“Just excellent, thank you very much!” He went back into the kitchen, and continued cooking as Sans walked around and down the stairs, slipping on his hoodie.

Sans asked “Whatcha cookin’ Papy?”

He turned away from the pan and passionately said “Well, I recently asked Ms.Toriel for suggestions on new breakfasts to try, and she suggested I try to make omelettes!” He turned back to the burning food as he continued. “They’re almost done in fact!” Sans grinned, excited to try something new from his Papyrus, and started pulling out plates and some silverware. Papyrus noticed, excitedly telling him “Why, thank you Sans! Would you bring the plates here please?!”

He put the plates on the counter and the silverware on the table, before grabbing a glass to pour some milk for Papyrus. Putting the milk away, he looked around for a bottle of ketchup, before realizing that there wasn’t any. “Weird... I swear I was good another week...”

As Papyrus placed the plates on opposite sides of the table (noticing how Sans only got silverware for one of them), he said “I got rid of the ketchup Sans. You know you need to stop.”

Sans turned around, sighing. He knew Papyrus was right. After he brought the glass of milk over, putting it in front of Papyrus, and sat down in front of his plate he said “You’re right, you’re right.” Picking up the charred omelette with his bare hands, and bit into it while craving ketchup as Papyrus proceeded to eat his with a knife and fork.

After finishing a few bites, Papyrus said “You got a call from Dr.Bec again, he asked if you’d like to set another appointment sometime.”

Sans sighed, putting down his food. He closed his eyes and began thinking about it. “Bro, I really don’t think it’s necessary. I mean, I’m doin’ pretty good since the last one.”

Papyrus nodded, believing him. “Well, It seemed like something to mention!” He went back to eating his burnt omelette, washing it down with the milk Sans had gotten him.

Sans continued eating his, surprised how good it was for his first attempt at it (not great, but better than most of his first dishes). He couldn’t help but feel anxious about Papyrus picking up the phone. He didn’t want Papyrus knowing he had been going to therapy, and hoped he would assume it was a medical doctor.

After another minute of eating, Sans said “So, how’s the workin’ life been?”

Papyrus smiled widely, happily saying “It has been going excellently Sans! Just the other day I met a lovely older women stopping by the grocer to buy some chocolates for her wife! We struck up a nice conversation as I was restocking shelves and she invited me to join her for bingo next week!”

Sans smiled, “Heh, that’s great Bro. You plannin’ on going?”

Papyrus nodded, “It sounded like it’d be a swell time!” He’d never had much an opportunity to play such games with people, but with the surface came a fresh start for him.

Sans was happy to see him making friends, so few people in the Underground seemed to like him for some reason.

He took the last few bites of his food, before standing up. “Welp, that was great Bro, thanks. I’mma go out to the backroom, I’ll run the washer later.”

Papyrus smiled, “Thank you Sans! I shall say goodbye to you before heading off to work!”

Sans nodded, walking out of the room and heading out the door, craving the ketchup from his secret stash in the lab.

Frisk sat there in the plastic chair (backpack beside them), as Henry sat at his desk going through paperwork.

Henry’s office wasn’t too large, a small space occupied with a desk and a computer. A few grey plastic chairs were stacked against the wall (two taken out, only one still occupied by Frisk), and behind the desk was a computer chair. In the corner and on the wall next to the door were filing cabinets and hanging pockets for documents and papers to go into. There was a window showing the playground outside, steadily emptying as parents picked up their children and tried to get past the police roadblock.

A door could be heard opening somewhere outside the room. Frisk heard Sans’ voice talking to the main school office attendant, and a moment later Sans showed up in the door to Henry’s office.

He gave a quick look around, saying “Heyya kid, howzit goin’?”

Frisk gave a shrug and a smile, happy to see him here as Henry took a look at the figure, not recognizing the skeleton. He asked with uncertainty “Hello there, I’m Henry Pascuzzi. Are you a friend of Toriel and Asgore?”

He nodded to him. “Yep, name’s Sans. Undyne phoned and asked I pick the kid up. Tori asked them to do it but something came up at the station.”

Henry nodded, going onto his computer and quickly typing something in. After a moment of seemingly checking something, he turned back to him and said “Well, you’re listed as an secondary guardian. Alright then, I just need to discuss with you what had happened first.”

Sans gave him a confused look, shooting Frisk a glance. “Alllllllriiighty then.” He walked over and sat in the plastic chair next to Frisk, slouching. “Whatcha got for me?”

Henry explained “Well, Frisk had gotten into a fight today with another one of our students.”

Sans stared at him, wide eye-socketed. Eventually, he said “Frisk... got into a fight? Really?" He didn’t believe it one bit.

Henry nodded. “I’d rather not say who it was with, but they weren’t a student with any sort of history of violence. Roughhousing yes, but not violent.” He cleared his throat, trying to find a sheet somewhere on his desk. “As it is, I’ve never seen Frisk be aggressive or violent before, and the other student in question is going through some personal matters which i’m not to talk about due to school policy. However, they did receive some injuries as a result of the fight, though older students claim that Frisk never caused any of them directly.” He finally found the needed sheet, and turned back to Sans after grabbing a pen from a desk drawer. “Still, I am required to bring this matter up to you directly, and I need a legal guardian to sign this sheet.” He offered the sheet to Sans alongside the pen.

Sans nodded, having a decent idea what happened. He took the sheet, and quickly read over it before signing with S (his actual signature).

Henry took the sheet as Sans offered it back, quickly checking where it was signed (giving a confuddled look as he read the signature), before putting it off to the side. “Alright, that takes care of that. You may leave, assuming there isn’t anything you wish to discuss first.”

Sans looked over at Frisk, who seemed anxious about the entire scenario. He turned back to Henry, and said “Nah, I think we’re all good.” He stood up, offering his hand to Henry. “It was a nice meetin’ ya Henry.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you t-” PFFFFFFFFFTFTTTTFFFTFTTPFTFPFT.

Henry moved his hand away from Sans’, realizing the whoopee cushion that didn’t seem to be there a moment before.

Sans had an immense grin on his face as he said “Heh, the ol’ whoopee cushion in the hand trick. It’s always funny.”

After a moment of perplexity, Henry began laughing at the joke. He calmed down after a moment, before saying “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you too Sans. I hope you two have a nice day.”

Sans nodded, “You too.” He turned to Frisk, saying “Ready kid?”

Frisk (who had been giving him a sly smile, fully expecting the whoopee cushion in the hand trick), nodded, standing up and grabbing their backpack from beside them and following behind Sans as he led the way out the room.

As they and Sans walked out of school, he asked “So, kid, a fight, huh? Am I supposed to ask how they got hurt or why it started?”

Frisk looked down, not surprised Sans would ask questions. After a moment, making sure to take deep breaths and get a slow start, they said “They told me that I made their parents separate because their Dad left for a monster. I kept dodging and he kept falling down and hurting himself.”

Sans nodded, the first part unexpected but the second half more or less what he anticipated. He looked them over, making sure they were fine. “Sure ya didn’t get hurt kid? Full HP?”

Frisk nodded, knowing well they were at 30/30HP. “J-J-Ju-” They stopped to take a deep breath, talking slower. “Just a bit dirty is all.”

Sans nodded, already having noticed the specks of dust on their skirt and striped T shirt. “Welp, glad to hear it. Know when Asgore’s off work?”

They shook their head, knowing that Asgore usually worked past when he was supposed to.

“Hmm...” Sans gave it some thought, before eventually saying “Welp, Tori ain’t done with the conference ‘till four, and it’s a long drive... Watchya wanna do ‘till then?”

Frisk gave it a moment of thought. A smile spread across their face as they considered what they could do together.

Toriel walked in through the door, surprised to find it unlocked. “Hello, are you there Frisk?”

Sans mildly shouted “We’re in the livin’ room Tori.”

Toriel took off her shoes at the front door and stepped into the living room. The floor was carpeted white with a mat placed on top of it, and a wooden coffee table on top of that. There was a television atop a TV cabinet, and a lamp in the corner of the room next to a large rocking chair and a bookshelf filled with books old and new.

Where the couch was- against the wall near the coffee table- all the couch cushions had been taken off and used to make a pillow fort alongside a blanket and a couple of bone structures. Frisk’s head popped out of the side of the fort, before quickly running out (being careful to not topple the fort) and giving Toriel a great big hug.

Toriel hugged them back one handedly, holding a recyclable bag in the other. “Hello my child, I’m glad to see you too.”

Sans had stepped out of the fort, happily saying “Heyya Tor, how’d the drive go?”

Toriel took a deep breath, saying “Alright, I suppose, though it did give me a headache.” Toriel gave him a smile, before asking Frisk “Are you hungry Frisk? Would you like me to make something to eat?”

Frisk shook their head. “S-S-S-...” They stopped, remembering to take a deep breath and start off slow. “Sans had made some hotdogs earlier.”

Toriel nodded, giving Frisk a smile while Sans received a dirty look from her. “Well, that’s good dear, but I still think I’m going to make something.”

Frisk nodded, before running back off into the pillow fort, well aware that their mom and Sans would want to speak to one another.

As Toriel looked to Sans for an explanation of why he was here, he instead said “Welp, I guess when it comes to cookin’ you’re definitely top dog.”

“Ah, I see. So she asked you to pick them up instead?” Frisk had gone to bed a while ago, and Sans was sticking around to chat with Toriel.

Sans nodded. “Yep. Got a call an hour later, ‘parently it’s lead to some big investigation to find out who the culprit was. Undyne’s been processing witnesses all day.”

Toriel nodded, upset to hear about the crime. “That’s unfortunate. And so close to the school too... Did Frisk see it happen?”

Sans shook his head. “Nah, wasn’t visible from the school, but they did get to see where police were blocking off the road. And anyway, Frisk was inside when it happened, had to pick them up from the office.”

“Uhnngg.” Toriel held her head in her hands. “Did Helen send them to detention again?”

“Uhhhhmmmm...” Sans didn’t know what she was talking about. “Well, actually, a kid had picked a fight with Frisk. The kid fell a few times during it and the two of them wound up in the office.” Sans had never heard of Helen. He’d actually figured it was Frisk’s first time they were forced to sit in the office.

Toriel let out a sigh of mixed emotion. “Well, that’s... not good to hear, but so long as neither of them got hurt it’s better than her.” She spoke with a strong distaste- a much more mild version of what Sans heard when she brought up Asgore on the off time she had anything to drink.

Sans asked “Who’s Helen? Bully at Frisk’s school?”

Toriel shook her head annoyedly. “No, and yes. She’s one of Frisk’s teachers. She’s- well... Like my father said, do not speak of someone if you have nothing good to say about them.” There was an angry fire in her eye, as though she’d like to personally bake her in fire magic.

For how much Sans liked Frisk, he still had his skepticisms about them. “Well, maybe there’s a reason. What sorta stuff does Frisk in trouble for?”

Toriel scoffed. “The most ignorant of things! The way Frisk dresses, the use of they pronouns, them using nonverbal communication so often! She tries to segregate the class between humans and monsters and gets Frisk in trouble when they try to interact with monsters for hell’s sake!”

Sans gritted his teeth together, feeling anger build towards the woman. “Heh, kinda reminds me some of the jerks Paps had to deal with in New Home. I thought Frisk’s teacher was an old guy named Mr.Low Park ‘r somethin’?” Frisk had told him about them, how they would show the class replicas and models of things from history, or how they’d take them on field trips to see special monuments and make it sound all exciting. Apparently he even gave Frisk less homework, or helped them with stuff they were behind on so they could focus on their ambassador work.

Toriel let out a chuckle. “Mr.Parloe, and yes. Half the classes are taught by one teacher, the other half are taught by another, Mr.Parloe and Ms.Helen in Frisk’s case.”

Sans nodded. It seemed like a weird system, but he figured they had their reasons. “Got it. So Low Parking is good, In Hell is bad?”

Toriel let out a another laugh, nodding. “Exactly Sans. Frisk doesn’t get in trouble as often anymore with her, but she still tries. Thankfully, Henry and most of the teachers are supportive, but there’s still some teachers.” She let out another sigh, shaking her head.

Sans felt angry. He felt people oughta be accepted for who they are. “Well, are the parents any better?”

She shook her head, holding it in one hand. “No... Well, some are. But some are so much worse. If I have to hear one more complaint from Linda concerning ‘the danger of monsters to human children’ I swear I’ll- I’ll-”

“Write a strongly worded letter requesting her to stop bringing up the point?”

Toriel looked up at them, as her anger turned into laughter. Sans gave her a grin. “Would ya like me to deliver it, alongside a piece of pie? Maybe Frisk could include a drawing depicting their feelings towards her?” Toriel continued laughing, as Sans further added “Oh, maybe we can redo her bathroom while we’re at it, show we’re really displeased about-”

“O-Okay Sans, st-stop it!” Toriel couldn’t stop laughing as Sans sat there, smug as always.

Finally, after a minute, Toriel calmed down, though she was still smiling. “I swear to God Sans, you’re unbelievable...”

Sans nodded. “Yep, true. All my life, I’ve tried to find someone who believes I exist, but so far nothin’.”

She let out more laughter, happy to be making jokes with Sans again. Finally, she said “Well, it’d certainly be nice if you could come to the PTA meetings to tell jokes, help me deal with Linda.”

Sans gave a shrug. “Who says I can’t?”

Toriel stared at him briefly, before looking down and giving it some thought. Finally, she looked back at him, asking “You’d do that Sans?”

He gave her another shrug. “Sure, why not? Not like i got much goin’ on with my life.”

Toriel smiled, “Really? Thank you Sans! I’ll go talk to Henry and ask him about you attending, thank you!”

Sans gave yet another shrug to Toriel. “‘Ey, it’s no big deal. I can come and be emotional support for ya, alright? Maybe crack a few puns, mess with the jerks a bit. When’s the next PTA meeting? Also, quick question, what’s a PTA?”

Toriel sighed, but couldn’t help but chuckle as well. “The Parent Teacher Association. The next PTA meeting for our school is Friday, four thirty. We’re going to be discussing the district conference during the next meeting.” The school was part of a district primarily located in a nearby city. They had a conference discussing their monster policy, which Toriel had been allowed to attend as a teacher and school representative from the district.

Sans nodded. “Well alrighty then, I’ll be there.”

#undertale pta #undertale #undertale fanfiction #pta sans #pta sans cares #toriel #frisk #henry #sans #I'll need to add more later

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investigatingregionalscenes · 6 years

Link

story about music #8

Winter-Spring, 2013: In order to graduate, I needed a capstone. I chose to do deep reporting project I’d been threatening to do since 2009, and looked into the noise and experimental scene of New England. I recorded seven interview with experimental artists about their lives and work. These are five of them. They were taken in a variety of locales in the Boston area: Cambridge, Somerville, Lowell, and Salem.

In the last year, I’ve been thinking a lot about this period and these conversations as I ask myself, why keep doing this?

above: Ron Lessard, as Emil Beaulieau, performs in someone’s basement in Worcester, Massachusetts.

Music

Music for this episode was created using the following household objects: a desk lamp, a can of beer, a record player, a radiator, and a vacuum cleaner.

With the exceptions of “Fog in the Ravine” by Lejsovka and Freund as well samples from their songs “From Royal Ave” and “Nothing, Just Looking at the Moon” and the song “Blue Line Homicide” by Twodeadsluts Onegoodfuck.

The soundtrack was created with advice from musician Jacob Rosati. It will be made available for download later in the summer. For more info please subscribe to the podcast, tumblr, or follow us on twitter.

Links

Crank Sturgeon still performs and tours regularly. He also builds contact microphones and other circuit bent sundries, one of which was used in the production of this episode. A full recording of his set used in this episode is available here.

Crank Sturgeon, 2012, from Wikimedia.

Shane Broderick spent most of his twenties making music with his friend Ted (and later, their friend Josh Hydeman) under the name Twodeadsluts Onegoodfuck. Their music is a good example of the subgenres Grindcore and Power Electronics. The name is also exemplary of those subgenres. The performance video which is referenced in the documentary, taken in the mid-00s, has been removed from Youtube. A video from that period is visible here, uploaded by the band’s Ted Sweeney. (contains nudity)

Shane Broderick, from Existence Establishment

Ron Lessard still runs RRRecords in Lowell, Massachusetts. He previously performed under the name Emil Beaulieau. A collection of performances, including the one used in the documentary, can be seen in the video compilation below.

youtube

Emil Beaulieau: America’s Greatest Living Noise Artist, from Youtube

Andrea Pensado still makes music and performs live. She composes in Max/MSP. Her most recent release is a pair of live collaborations with Id M Theft Able. Her former project, with Greg Kowalski, is QFWFQ.

youtube

Andrea Pensado live performance, 10-13-13, from Youtube

Angela Sawyer owned Weirdo Records until it closed in 2015. She now performs comedy and experimental music around Boston.

Angela Sawyer, from her personal website.

The interview with Andrea Pensado was recorded along with my friend Samira, who was producing her own documentary of Boston’s experimental music scene, below. It includes footage from the Andrea interview as well as her own separate interview with Angela Sawyer.

youtube

“The Noise” by Samira Winter, from Youtube

Luigi Russolo’s manifesto is The Art of Noises

Luigi Russolo and the Intonarumori, with his asst. Uglo Piatti, from Wikimedia

Transcript

Brendan: Would you mind telling me about the show at [withheld] , from six years ago, down the street?

Shane: Yeah, um, I was setting up a show with some old-school Detroit noise dudes. When we showed up, the owner was there instead of the doorman, and he was just upset cause he was there on, like, a Tuesday night.

So what ended up happening was is, uhh, two bands played and he came up to me a said, “show’s over.” “Well there’s still two bands to play,” and he’s like, “I don’t care, the show’s over.” I’m like, “the show’s been booked for two months.” Just because you want to go home and, like, jerk off into a kleenex or whatever it is that you fuckin’ do. It has nothing to do with me. And he got upset, and I was like, well listen dude, how about the last two bands play at the exact same time.” So that’s what we did. Warmth and Twodeadsluts collaborated. It lasted about fifteen seconds, and the owner came over and kicked a table with everyone’s gear on it. So the only logical thing for me to do as a Bostonian–– and I have pride being a Bostonian–– is I just looked at this guy and I was like, “I don’t care how big he is, or how Italian he is, I’m gonna wind up, and I’m gonna punch this guy right in the fucking face.”

Brendan: And what happened?

Shane: That guy hit me back––I-I lost a little bit of time there. He’s a lot bigger than me. Uh, clocks went still. I kinda woke up, I was on the ground, and he was smashing everyone’s gear. Cops came in, they put me in a car, they, y’know told me to leave and blah blah blah.

Brendan: Is that the only time cops have been called on you?

Shane: No. Not even close.

music: “Blue Line Homicide” | Twodeadsluts Onegoodfuck

You’re listening to Stories About Music, a podcast on the subjects of music, journalism, and memories, and how the line between those three things is often not as clear as I’d hoped.

My name is Brendan Mattox, and this is story about music number eight, “Who’s Afraid of the Art of Noise?”.

Room 1 (Crank Sturgeon)

Cars pass by on Massachusetts Avenue, seen out the front window of Weirdo Records in Cambridge. It’s night time. A few young men in their twenties sit on the floor of the small storefront, waiting as Crank Sturgeon sets up in a corner.

Crank: Cool. So, do you think this is our show? Shall we wait, or?

Angela: I think…What time is it? It’s not eight-thirty, that’s probably most of our show. Let me turn that off.

Crank: Not that uh, four’s a wonderful audience, I’ve played for two. One of them was my brother who never saw me before that point…and Id Em Thft Able and I had some very bizarre sexual ritual in front of my brother, involving instant powdered milk and a plastic poster from 1970 of this naked woman holding a stuffed animal…And I had a penis helmet at the time… but alright, well I will perform for you hello, my name is Crank Sturgeon everybody… (6:37) We could do a performance where I have everyone sing introductions of themselves to each other. Everyone up on your feet.

Crank: Hello! My name is Craaaaaaannnk Sturrrgeon!

Angela: Hello! My name is Angela Sawyyyyyeerrrrrr!

Crank: All at once now!

Brendan: And I am Brendan Mattox!

Crank: Hi Brendan Mattox, my name is Crank, it’s a pleasure to meet you, you have a really firm handshake. And this man in the corner, what’s your name? Andrew, another Andrew, Brendan, Angela.

Angela: Wow, we’re nearly phonemes.

Crank: Ahh, phonies…

Crank Sturgeon sits down behind his instruments: a few tape recorders, a sharpie, and a loudspeaker full of tacks and jelly beans.

Crank: First Piece, oh, wait. My brand new fish helmet, so I can lose even more water to my body. There we go. First piece is improvisations with the letter D. Delirious, Delightful, Delicious, Dumb, Dumbfounded, Dimwit, Diplodocus, Dinosaur, Diana, Dagnasty, Dagnabbit, Diddling, Dawdling, Doodling, Dude Ranch (buzzing noise) Dick, Doofus, Dammit, Darn, Dangle, Drink, Drunk, Dank, Dork, Dusty, Dunce, Distinguished! Development! Duplicitous.

Crank is wearing a black garbage bag over his head, adjusted so his face and white goatee peek through the hole he’s cut in it for air. On either side of the bag are two enormous fish eyes, drawn on card stock, with marker.

I’m here tonight reporting a story about a couple of loosely associated experimental musicians from Boston, a story whose meaning is starting to exceed my grasp.

Brendan: How would you describe Crank Sturgeon?

Crank: In uhh, a sentence? Brendan: I have no idea. How would you describe the experience of being Crank Sturgeon?

Crank: Well it’s, uh, it’s not a party.

Angela: It is so.

Crank: It is a party. It’s funny because, I’ve survived for awhile, through the many phases of experimental music.

Brendan: What do you mean the many phases?

Crank: The many phases. You’d go to a show in 1996 in a basement in Allston and it was like, a tough guy scene.

Angela: People sitting on the floor, like indian style, and a dude looking at his belly button going “doonk-doonk-doonk.”

Crank: (laughs) Very true…

Angela Sawyer, the owner of Weirdo, jumps in. She and Crank know each other going back to the nineties, when they were at the beginning of the path that has led to the three of us standing in a circle in her record store.

Brendan: what’s the trick to growing old with grace within the experimental community?

Crank: Oh that’s a really fun question, because I’m still figuring it out. I think…did you want to say something?

Angela: Well I feel like no one– when I was twenty, or eighteen, and I met people who were much older than me, it never occurred to me to look at myself from their point of view, ever. So I only ever thought, “oh, that person is as old as my mom and my dad, but they’re doing what I want instead of what my parents are doing. Once you get to be–– I’m in my forties…then is when you’re like, oh, I have been there so many times and they have no idea where I am. So that’s when you start to feel marginalized a little bit

Room 2 (Shane Broderick)

The TV in Shane Broderick’s living room is on mute. A weather man gestures in to a map of New England in shades of blue and purple. At the top of the screen is a red banner with the words “Blizzard Warning.” It’s mid-afternoon. Shane and I are drinking cans of beer that Shane brought out of the fridge.

Shane: I was always playin’ music and stuff since I was a little kid. Even when I was, like, twelve years old I’d be up late smokin’ weed and messing with drum machines and stuff like that.

Brendan: Where’d you get your hands on a drum machine at age twelve.

Shane: Uhh, Christmas present.

Brendan: Christmas present?

Shane: Yeah.

Brendan: That’s pretty cool.

Shane: Yeah, I had my beginner guitar and a drum machine. Y’know once I was like, fifteen and stuff I got a job, started collecting equipment…I thought I’d make a career out of it but I ended up just being, like, a lifelong mailroom guy.

When he was 19 years-old, Shane dropped out of college in Florida and moved back to Massachusetts. He started making abrasive music with a friend he knew while working at a gas station in high school.

Shane: We worked together and every time we finished a shift it would be like a hundred and something dollars under, and I was like, what the fuck this kid man.

They called themselves Twodeadsluts Onegoodfuck.

Shane: We joked around on the internet about how we were going to start the most extreme band ever and how the first record we’d just put a bunch of contact mics in a blender and throw a rabbit in it and whatever it sounded like, that was the first LP. Which we never did. [music in]

Brendan: But what instead came out of it was…

Shane: I stuck my boner in a blender. Which was a demo that we did which was me and him coaching eleven of our friends, we were just trying to make circus music with grindcore parts.

Shane: We got reviewed in something like Metal Maniacs, that was like a magazine that when I was ten years old and my mother would drag me to CVS to grab things, I would sit in the aisle and look at, like, pictures of like, Slayer looking sexy and stuff like that, so I was like “oh shit, I’m in this magazine now.” After that, me and him decided to keep the name and go forward with it.

Shane is in his early thirties and he still makes music, although Twodeadsluts hasn’t been active for awhile. He also still plays shows sometimes, though he doesn’t really enjoy it.

Shane: I don’t know I think it’s just, like, nerves. It was easier with the other guys because we were more like a wrecking crew. Y’know, get blind stinkin’ drunk and it didn’t really matter what happened.

Brendan: What would one night at a TDS show end up being like?

Shane: It would start off sloppy and then I wouldn’t remember then end of it.

(Indiscriminate yelling)

Shane: We’re Twodeadsluts Onegoodfuck from Boston, and we need the drum machine way fucking louder. Get that shit way the fuck up.

Brendan: When you guys got onstage, there seems to be sort of a pattern. You start off with some harsh feedback, and then it progresses into stuff getting knocked over.

Shane: There was definitely a lot of feedback and definitely a lot of things knocked over.

They were also usually naked.

Shane: I think we were probably more performative over substance, to be quite honest. In those early shows we were just using five or six microphones, a bunch of fx pedals running back into each other, and just whatever sounds were happening, were happening

[music]

Shane: Either people really liked it or found it very entertaining, and on the flipside– we’d have people picket our shows, feminists thinking that we were, like, um, promoting sexism… Just that band name wipes off at least 70% of the population from even giving you a chance. It’s probably a higher percentage than that…

Brendan: So the choice of the band name then, was it to…

Shane: It was kind of like, a filtering mechanism and also it was like an inside joke that just kept going and going, and no one was really in on it but us. The band wasn’t supposed to last ten years either.

Shane: I can’t even give you any rationale behind it…it really might look pretty forced, but it was actually pretty natural for the people involved in the band.

Brendan: Why was it so natural?

Shane: I don’t know. That’s a question for a therapist. I don’t know.

I sip from my can of beer even though it’s empty. Shane plays with the pull tab on his. On the television, the weatherman predicts a foot of snow is going to cover Boston over the next two days. Shane, still dressed in scrubs from the hospital where he works, says,“I got to work tomorrow no matter what.”

There’s a half-open ironing board against a wall. In the bathroom, the sink is plastered with shavings. Next to the un-flushed toilet sits a stack of musical notation paper. I stare at it, because it says something specific about the person I’m speaking to. I can’t figure out what, or why.

Brendan: If you could maybe, like, point me in the right direction of some people in the area to talk to…

Shane: I think you should definitely talk to Ron in Lowell. He runs triple-R records. He’s kind of, America’s greatest living noise artist. Like a godfather type…

Room 3 (RRRon)

I walk out Shane’s front door and into Ray Robinson’s café in downtown Lowell. Ron Lessard waits for me in a yellow booth along the window. Through the rain on the glass, the world outside is a blur of different shades of gray.

Brendan: Where should we begin?

Ron: (chewing noises) So. Today is Wednesday. I’m eating lunch. I’m almost through with my fries, soon I’ll be starting on my burgers. Fuckin’ awesome.

Ron is the noise expert, one of the engines driving America’s experimental music scene since the 80s. Ron has released about 1000 recordings on Triple-R’s in-house label.

Ron: I was the source. And everybody who ever learned how to play a tape backwards or make feedback decided to send me a demo. And man, I heard so much crap like you wouldn’t believe…I mean, how many Rock’n’roll bands are awesome, and how many suck beyond belief?

Ron first got into noise music around 1981, after he left the Air Force and came home to Lowell.

Ron: There was a mail-order outlet out of Colorado called Aeon A-E-O-N. When I got their catalog, I couldn’t believe the stuff they had listed. They had, like, Whitehouse albums, New Blockaders, Maurizio Bianchi, and it’s like who the fuck are these guys? So I started buying that stuff and I was like, woah, this is what I’ve been looking for all these years. The guy that ran it became a survivalist kind of guy, y’know, living out in the woods with his gun type of thing and, actually, he eventually sold me his entire inventory, I bought him out.

Ron: When I first opened I tried to specialize in all the really weird imports, bizarre bands and that kind of stuff, y’know. But at the same time, I knew enough to know that pedestrians, your average everyday person, has no freakin’ clue. They just want to listen to a Barry Manilow or whatever the fuck they like, y’know.

His store, RRRecords, opened in 1984.

Ron: After Aeon, I was the guy that was thoroughly obsessed, and I just devoted myself to it…Day in day out noise, morning, noon, and night. Listening to tapes, checking out bands all day every day. At that time Heavy metal wasn’t heavy enough, punk rock wasn’t extreme enough, Noise did it for me, it really did.

Ron started performing noise music himself under the name Emil Beaulieau. Footage from from the nineties, like this, show him using vinyl records and their accessories as instruments.

This is another way to look at noise music: instead of using something like a trombone, or a tuba, a guitar, or a piano, you take whatever you can find, whatever objects appeal to you, and you refashion them into something expressive. The screeching noise you hear is coming from a modified turntable, which Ron stands behind with a goofy look on his face, pretending to polish record.

Ron: Remember to always, always use the circular motion when cleaning your records.

From that perspective, noise is a positive, creative philosophy, and I can see how people get so obsessed with it.

Ron:A lot of people, y’know, they can’t play guitar, they can’t play the drums–– but twisting knobs and screaming your brains out, getting out that primal scream, whatever it is…it’s inside everybody.

Brendan: And speaking of which, what’s your personal experience with it.

Ron: (Darkly) What do you mean?

Brendan: I mean with Emil Beaulieau.

Ron: Yeah.

Brendan: Well you just said that Noise music was this personal experience. How did you get stuff out through Emil Beaulieau?

Ron: I–I’m not sure where your leading, as far as recording or getting the name out?

Brendan: Why did you start Emil Beaulieau?

Ron: ––you know, I just wasn’t any good at sports (laughter).

The uncomfortable moment sticks in the back of mind for the rest of our interview. Though Ron’s eloquent and energetic, as I was warned he would be, he’s also a little guarded. Maybe that’s because I showed up looking for someone to answer the criticisms of noise music or its culture, which he brushes off with a simple:

Ron: Lately? Lately I’m out of it.

Brendan: When was the last time you were in it?

Ron: Seven years ago (laughs)

Brendan: So let’s go back seven years, because this is something that keeps coming up in interviews with people. Seven years ago, things were very…

Ron: Active.

Brendan: Active.

Ron: Wicked, wicked, wicked active.

Brendan: What’s happened?

Ron: The bands that are making noise today sound like the bands that were making noise ten years ago, that sound like the bands making noise twenty years ago, y’know they sound exactly the same, they’re doing the same freakin’ feedback, they’re still screaming the same lyrics, y’know, it’s just the same thing over and over and over and over again. Which is fine, y’know, punk rock exists for a reason, y’know. The young people, they’re totally into it because it’s new for them. It’s like wow this is freakin awesome these guys are screaming their brains out! They’re talking about killing people! But then ten years later it’s the same thing all over again…I mean do you want to listen to that same band for freaking ten years in a row? I mean do you still want to hear Aerosmith? No you don’t (laughs).

He seems tired in a way that I’ve not seen before. As we talk, I get the sense that what Ron and I are doing has become an exit interview.

Ron: I did what I had to do. I did what I had to do and just to keep doing it because somebody else wants me to? Wrong freakin reason. That’s how bands start to suck. So fuck that y’know.

Y’know there was a time when I couldn’t wait to get on stage and scream my brains out. It’s like, well I mean y’know, you ever had a girlfriend? You make out with her it’s like the best! And then one day, you don’t want to make out with her anymore. It’s no different.

I mean, it’s been seven years. I stopped performing seven years ago, March of ’06. It’s now March ’13. It’s seven freaking years that I’ve stopped. Chances are you’re not doing the same thing you were doing seven years ago. And I’m willing to bet, seven years from now, you’re not going to be doing the exact same thing you’re doing now. People change, they move on. Been there, done that, why do it again?

music: “Fog in the Ravine” | Lejsovka & Freund

The scene dissolves. In the darkness, I think of the question that I wish I’d asked. This isn’t just some thing Ron was doing, it was the thing – what can you do when you lose touch with the something that was core to your identity?

Room 4 (Andrea Pensado)

Andrea: I think it’s very important to not to be scared of being in a place of not knowing. To be in a place of uncertainty, is excellent! Even if it is uncomfortable. Honestly, I don’t want a comfortable life.

I’m sitting in a cozy loft apartment in Salem, while my friend Samira chats with a small, owlish woman in her late 40s named Andrea Pensado.

Andrea: Well if you feel it at twenty than you cannot imagine in your forties.

Samira: I just taste it and I��m like, ‘wow, I’m just feeling all the sugar.’

Andrea: I ate a lot of chips, it was a bad idea. With beer, y’know, not good.

Samira is working on her own documentary about experimental music.

Andrea first got interested in music when she was a little girl, growing up in Buenos Aires.

Andrea: Eh, I was living in an apartment building, and a friend of mine, she started taking piano lessons. She showed me her music and I saw the notation, ehh, and I was fascinated. Honestly I was not aware of such a rich experimental music background until when I was in Poland…

She left Argentina to study composition in Krakow as an adult. But the music she composed on paper was so complex, that she often had trouble finding people to play it. Andrea likes to think about timbre–– the color of sound, what differentiates one instrument from another. To wring out some really interesting timbre with traditional instruments, you’ve got to do some out there stuff.

Andrea: Like, I don’t want to be just writing for the drawer.

And then, Andrea went to the Audio Art Festival, a meeting of the minds held in Krakow every November. The festival focuses on objects used to produce sound: musical instruments, but also computers.

Inspired, Andrea taught herself to program and began using electronics in her work.

Andrea: So I create a wifi for myself just to avoid latency, you can work with any wife…So my controllers are! An iPod–– I say, I look like an apple merchandise stand, which is quite depressing, but you know, what can I do? So this is an iPod with a special application I use to… [iPod click]. Well, first I have to set up the wifi, I show you…

Andrea is wearing a a headset like the kind people use to play video games. She’s sitting at her computer with an iPod Touch in her right hand.

Andrea: This is a simple wave, just a simple low tone. So if I move it like this, I change the pitch. And then if I do like this, the distortion is the direct result of–

She twists and bends her arm manipulating the sine wave into a complex pattern.

Andrea: And I can do the same if I had my voice…

Then she flicks on her mic.

Andrea: Hey, hah, that’s my voice! (noise) hello! Hah! (pause, noise ends). So you know it’s quite dramatic.

Andrea: Maybe for somebody who is not a lot in music, this seems harsh. I don’t think this is harsh at all, this is just the way new music is going. I do believe that, even though I don’t think what we do now is better than what was done in the Renaissance, ok, I do believe that there is constant change, and that artistic languages keep having a need of refreshing themselves, ok?…yeah?

Brendan: (18:49) Why do you think music is shifting in that direction?

Andrea: To explore timbre…Because now, thanks to the technology, we have access to it. It’s easier to manipulate. We are like kids, we are, like, playing. (12:26) I compare it to the beginning of the baroque, where they became aware of chords, of verticality, and then for 300 years, they explore that.

Andrea’s grandiosity reminds me of the document that first inspired me to pursue this project. In 1913, a young painter named Luigi Russolo wrote a letter to a composer he admired. The two of them were part of an Italian movement known as Futurism. Russolo’s letter ended up as one of the movement’s major manifestoes, The Art of Noises.

In The Art of Noises, Russolo laid out a framework for the music of the new industrial world, in which the city itself is both the inspiration and the instrument.

For centuries life went by in silence, at most in muted tones…Amidst this dearth of noises, the first sounds that man drew from a pieced reed or stretched string were regarded with amazement…and the result was music, a fantastic world superimposed on the real one…

We Futurists have deeply loved and enjoyed the harmonies of the great masters. Now, we are satiated and find far more enjoyment in the combination of the noises of trams, backfiring motors, carriages and bawling crowds than in rehearsing the “er-O-i-ca” or the “Pastorale”.

We cannot much longer restrain our desire to create finally a new musical reality, with a generous distribution of resonant slaps in the face. Discard violins, pianos, double-basses and plaintive organs…

I am not a musician, I have therefore no acoustical predilections, nor any works to defend. I am a Futurist painter using a much loved art to project my determination to renew everything. And so, bolder than a professional musician could be, unconcerned by my apparent incompetence and convinced that all rights and possibilities open up to daring, I am able to initiate the great renewal of music by means of the Art of Noises.

It is, and I am one to talk, very pretentious. And yet, I kind of sympathize with the guy. When I started making a podcast, I was intent on remaking a whole sector of journalism with my own bold incompetence.

A man of his word, Luigi built these giant boxes called the Intonarumori, whose purpose was to make a bunch of noise. A photo of them often accompanies The Art of Noises, and you can see Russolo standing behind one, this thin guy with a mustache, a hand placed on the crank handle at its back.

Like most manifestoes, The Art of Noises says very little about its writer, except what he wanted to be: a great destroyer come to remake the world in his image. If you’re a certain type of young person, that idea is very attractive, and you can embrace it without really thinking about what other things you might put to the side to achieve that.

Samira: What’s your, I know you’ve done a lot of work with visual, audio and visual.

Andrea: Well that’s with my ex-husband (laughter). Greg, whom I met in Poland, he comes from video, from cinema. We had a duo, eventually, I stopped doing my own to work for our duo, which we worked together for ten years. Greg did the images and I did the sound. And we work on interactivity. Then we split, so now I work just with sound.

Brendan: How is your music different working with your ex-husband, than after?

Andrea: The main goal of our duo was to have real time interaction between images and the sound. So if there was something onstage like a movement or, whatever, it had simultaneously a result in both. It gave some rigidity. So now that the interaction isn’t so important, I have much more freedom to just to improvise. It’s like much, much more freedom.

Room 6 (Angela Sawyer)

Angela: One of the first people I ever met who was interested in experimental music was Ron Lessard.

I’m standing at the counter in Weirdo Records one afternoon, talking with Angela Sawyer again She’s telling me how she first got involved with the experimental scene, just after she started at U-MASS LOWELL in the early 90s.

I had never been to New England at all, I just flew here on a plane from Denver and I wanted to meet some people, and I didn’t really know what to do, and I heard some other kids saying that they wanted to join the college radio station. They said at the meeting to join up, you have to show up and volunteer…I went back the next day, and there no one was there.

Brendan: How long were you there for?

Angela: Probably an hour (laughs). Finally someone came by…I was just like, “hey, hey, I’m here to volunteer, what should I do?” And they just looked at me like I had three heads. They were like, “why don’t you clean something?” So I found a vacuum and I just started vacuuming…

And I went through all the rooms, and finally I got to a room that I hadn’t been in yet, and there was a person in there, and it was kind of dark in there…So I waited for him to notice me. I said hi, I’m trying to vacuum. I had no idea that it was the air studio and, um, Ron, of course, he’s like a firecracker going off. So he’s like, “OH YES COME ON IN,” he was mic-ing the vacuum cleaner, and I’m just like “oh hi,” and he’s like tell me about yourself, who are you? And uhh, he was really awesome to me

As we walk down memory lane, Angela starts talking about a world that I was once very interested in, the network of noise and experimental artists who connected in the early days of the internet, after decades of being little feudal kingdoms.

Angela: There was definitely a feeling at one point of there being a first-world wide, at least, community, if not worldwide, of people who were listening to the same releases, and they were seeing the same bands, they’d heard some Throbbing Gristle records, and they had a common language and finding out about cool stuff and figuring out how it worked, and they knew what happened when you stuck a clarinet underwater and put delay on it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what Angela said at the Crank Sturgeon show, about choosing to live on the Island of Misfit toys without thinking about it very hard. Because I feel, in a lot of ways, that that’s become my life. I’m more devoted now than ever to completing the work I set out for myself, but I’m also deeply unhappy, and more isolated.

Angela: Every town has the person who is like, I’ll become the nun, I’ll sacrifice myself and do all this work and…y’know, I have a store, that’s what I do.

Brendan: Can you talk a bit about sacrificing–– about becoming a martyr for the scene?

Angela: I’m not trying to do that, I actually really dislike that.

Brendan: How did you fall into the role?

Angela: If you have some job related to underground music, that’s what you’re doing. ‘Cause there’s no money. But that’s one of the only ways you can spend your whole life surrounded by it.

music: “Fog in the Ravine” | Lejsovka and Freund

Angela: Everything I know about politics and geography and sociology and psychology, and how to sort of figure out how to deal with the world at large, I mostly learned them from records. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a conversation about anything else. I’m a very narrow person outside of records. Basically, records are sort of my defense system and or window for everything, I think of every record as like a pair of of tinted glasses, and you can look at the whole world through that and see it in a new way, and each good record has a slightly different shade on it, so you never get done figuring out how things work and enjoying new wrinkles in how things are. The bad news is that if you take the glasses off things look terrible, then you have to function like a regular person. And that’s not something I’m very good at.

If I’m being honest, neither am I. I’ve agonized over these interviews for a long time, afraid of saying the wrong thing about the people in them. To call it a “cautionary tale of loving something– an idea– that cannot love you back,” sounded unkind, both to them and to myself. I can’t help but feel at the end that that’s exactly what it is.

I avoided revisiting these interviews for almost five years because they held up a mirror to the shaky logic I built ambitions on. They pointed out, in no uncertain terms, that art cannot save me. It can help me find a way to save myself, by learning to communicate things that I feel deeply in a way that’s truthful, accurate, and honest. But that’s all that it can do.

And it took losing someone I loved very much to understand that.

Room 7 (Somerville Ave)

Shane Broderick and I stand on the sidewalk of Somerville Avenue on a cool spring evening. Shane’s arm is in a cast. He’s just finished telling me a story about the time he punched a club owner at a venue up the block. As we’re talking about the reputation that Twodeadsluts Onegoodfuck had amongst Boston’s club owners, some of Shane’s friends emerge from the bar where he’s just finished a gig.

Shane: it’s funny because we never actually gave any of the venues our actual performances, it was more like basement parties and shit like that that they were scared of, that they’d heard about.

Brendan: I can’t remember if I got this on tape last time, would you mind describing what the actual performances were?

Shane: Can’t really do that, I don’t know, you can ask these guys.

Friend 1: What’s that?

Friend 2: You gotta lighter? I just realized I left my backpack down there, I got good beer in there but whatever fuck that shit.

Brendan: Would you guys mind describing to me what a normal show by Twodeadsluts Onegoodfuck was like?

Friend 2: Is this an interview? I wasn’t ready for an interview man I can’t do that! My voice cannot be heard on tape.

Friend 1: (makes jerk-off motion) It’s like this.

Friend 2: Can I get a lighter from somebody?

Shane: (shouting) It’s like looking at something, and gettin’ so excited and just BAM! And then it’s kind of like aww fuck.

Friend 1: I don’t have a lighter!

Friend 2: Do you have a lighter?

Shane: We need to go home. Need to hide under a blanket.

Friend 2: Do you have a lighter buddy?

Brendan: Nah, I’m sorry.

Friend 2: Motherfucker! How can you do an interview without a lighter? (distant) Fuck! Amateur!

Brendan: So, just so I don’t take up the rest of your time, there was something you said during the last interview. You said that, for TDS, there was this joke that you guys…when the joke stopped being funny, you guys were like, ‘alright, I’m gonna do something else.’

Friend 1: The joke didn’t stop being funny.

Shane: Well ok I’m not sure the joke ever stopped being funny but…

Brendan: So, what, in your opinion what was the joke?

Friend 1: The band was the joke.

Brendan: What specifically about the band was the joke?

Friend 1: I don’t know…

Friend 2: (strike lamppost) Do a funny voice c’mon what the fuck! We’re supposed to be entertained by this shit.

Shane: Alright, you can cut my voice here.

Friend 2: It doesn’t matter what you say so long as it’s in a funny voice it’s cool.

Shane: There are a lot of Boston noise bands and people from Jamaica Plain and Allston and they want everyone to be like, onboard with, ‘hey, we’re all friends, this is a scene! come down to our house play a show blah blah blah.’ And what Twodeadsluts was more like, was just like, ‘We’re not even invited. We’re playing a show, we’re trashing your fuckin’ house.’

Brendan: Do you ever miss it?

Shane: Yeah, of course I do. It is what it is.

Brendan: I feel like that’s a pretty good place to end.

Shane: There you go.

I walk off into the night. A block away, I come to a stop on a concrete island in the middle of Somerville Avenue and look back at Shane and his friends. They were still down by the bench we were sitting on, drunk, being loud, but their noise is drowned out by the cars flying past me, headed for the outskirts of Boston.

Standing here, it occurs to me that need room tone, the sound of the place I’m in. Room tone helps smooth out transitions in editing, makes a radio documentary sound more natural. I’ve forgotten to get it for almost every other interview with the noise artists. But that I remember now seems significant to me, an promise to myself that someday I’ll figure what made this experience worth telling.

Credits

Today’s episode was produced with help from Wes Boudreau and Samira Winter. Editing help by Kyna Doles and Jon Davies. Special thanks today to Lejsovka & Freund, Jacob Rosati, Sean Coleman, Elissa Freeden, Brittany Rizzo, Tyler Carmody, and Birgit from Denmark.

Visit our website, investigating regional scenes dot org, for more episodes and, this summer, some bonus materials. You can find Stories About Music on your local podcast provider. Please leave a review to helps us find new listeners.

From Philadelphia, I’m Brendan Mattox, back soon with more stories about music.

#stories about music #noise music #experimental art #radio documentary #podcast

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doreyg · 3 years

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Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

I was tagged by @kanna-ophelia! It’s been years (YEARS) since I’ve done a tumblr meme like this, so apologies if some of the html gets a bit wonky!

(Going for last 20 published stories, because I have a few unrevealed and a few written but unposted)

1. They were working late on a matter of policy when it happened. (Dream Eater, Yes Minister, Humphrey/Hacker)

2. After Steve gave him the shield, and then dismissed them both with a cheerful smile, he and Bucky walked back to the hotel together. (Two Lone People, A Little Less Lonely Together, Falcon & The Winter Soldier, Sam/Bucky)

3. It was a warm day at the very beginning of spring when it happened. (Just As Free As My Hair, AC: Valhalla, M!Eivor/Hytham)

4. “I think our little godling has just begun yet another attempt,” he murmured into her ear as he crawled up over her on the bed, sure to bury his hands in her long pink hair as he did so and feel the silken drag of it over his fingertips. (Bubblegum Pop, Hades (Game), Aphrodite/Ares)

5. It was rare that he could get down to the underworld in person, given that much of the business of war was above by sheer necessity, but ever since Zagreus’ father had given his brethren permission to enter his realm again he had made it a regular part of his routine. (The Simple Collision of Knife and Flesh, Hades (Game), Ares/Zagreus) (Pls do heed the warnings at the top of this one!)

6. It had been a gathering exactly like the hundred other gatherings he had witnessed ever since they had come to England. (Where the Spirit Meets The Bones, AC: Valhalla, M!Eivor/Sigurd & M!Eivor/OMCS)

7. “Did you have to dress like that?” Frey asked, in a tone of high disgust. (A Marvellous Party, Frey & McGray series, Frey/McGray)

8. “You cannot be serious,” she says flatly. (Seasons Change, Star Trek: DS9, Kira/Damar)

9. He found Kassandra sitting on the hill behind the house, curled up into herself and looking down at all of Alexios’ adopted children - who now numbered in the dozens - running around beneath her. (A Haemorrhage Of Violets, AC: Odyssey, Deimos!Kassandra/Stentor)

10. The end of the pandemic brought more people on the streets, a tentative return of both restaurants and culture, and a new mission for Reid. (Midnight and The Moon Is Out, Vampyr, Charlotte/Reid)

11. “I still don’t know why I’m here,” I grumbled, trailing McGray into Waverley station. (Gallons of The Stuff, Vampyr/Frey & McGray, Reid/McCullum & Frey/McGray)

12. He woke up with a gasp in a tent he didn’t remember entering, a savage pain radiating through his stomach and a heavy weight pinning him down by the legs. (Flesh Into Blossom, AC: Odyssey, Stentor/Alexios)

13. Blake made a noise when I wrapped my arms around him. (From Within, Blake & Avery, Blake/Avery)

14. “Hello?” Clerval said. (The Devil, Falling, Frankenstein (book), Henry Clerval/The Creature)

15. “Who knew that the queen of France would be so beautiful?” (Like a Tidal Wave, Historical RPF, Henry II/Eleanor of Aquitaine)

16. “Oh!” Avery said, sounding delighted. (Shall We Dance?, Blake & Avery, Blake/Avery)

17. “This isn’t working,” he snapped, sliding his shoulder out from under Reid’s armpit and propping the other man’s bulk against the wall of the alleyway. (The Blood in My Veins, Vampyr, Reid/McCullum)

18. It had been a long night, and with Reid sitting politely by his bed it looked like it wouldn’t be over for some time. (Where Is The Blood?, Vampyr, Reid/McCullum)

19. In her defence, it had started off semi innocently. (In The Maze Stringless, Vampyr, Charlotte/Reid)

20. It wasn’t that bad a party, all things considered. (Like Light From A Small, Uncharted Star, AC: Odyssey, Alexios/Brasidas)

First two observations, unrelated to first lines: I am very much a fandom (and pairing) butterfly, and I’ve apparently tended to a fair amount of pretentious titles lately! Oops. XD

I seem to like to start with a short sentence to drop you into it, often as part of a longer descriptive paragraph (which you obvs don’t see here). I have a slight preference for starting with narrative instead of dialogue, and when I do start with dialogue it’s fairly often a question because apparently I also like to drop characters into confusing situations and see them flail. I wouldn’t say that any of these are particularly GREAT first lines, but there are a few of them I quite like and they all serve the purpose of getting the action started.

My top 3 are:

1. 10 - I think it’s nice and descriptive, but mainly I’m putting it here because it makes me laugh. XD I am very desperate for this RL pandemic to be over, and the me who wrote this back in January was obviously very hopeful about this.

2. 14 - This is probably the simplest one I have here (and technically is two sentences, but I cheated a little to add the second bit) but I really like it. I think it just sets up the fic well, and it gets across the way I wanted to write Clerval’s character. (In that I was deliberately writing him as a contrast to Frankenstein, as somebody who doesn’t fear dark and unknown things but rather tries to engage with them).

3. 17 - I like how it gets you right into the story, with McCullum having to save Reid from evil vampires, and also establishes the slightly fed up but still reluctantly drawn to each other dynamic between them.

If anybody else sees any patterns here, I’d be very happy to discuss them! I’m not tagging anybody because... Well, I was going to give an excuse but honestly I’m just a lazy bum. if you would like to do it, though, obviously feel free! :D

#Meme

0 notes

captainswanandclintasha · 6 years

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Awake and Alive - Chapter 10 (10/20)

Summary: While Emma and the other Nevengers are leaving Storybrooke for Neverland to search for Henry, a misterious and unkown woman comes in Storybrooke, looking for a long lost man and some answers about herself. Meanwhile in Neverland Emma and Hook discover something about themselves that is going to change their lives forever.

Rated M for future chapters and HA for HARD ANGST. Yet no one is dying. I promise. Thought I can’t say the same about the readers (or the writer) and F for fluff (also for future chapters)

Many many thank to Cathy (@ultraluckycatnd) for her help in betaing this story!

FF.NET | AO3

As always tagging @cinnamonduckling, @captainswan-shipper88, @tirsu, @tomeandflickcorner. Let me know if you want to be tagged for future chapters!

Here it is! Another chapter of Awake and Alive. I am so happy with the feedback I get every week when I post a new chapter and I am very very glad you are liking the story (Awake and Alive is now my most read story on AO3 and I don’t have enough words to tell you how happy I am).

We are halfway in and this chapter marks the end of the Neverland arc and the start of the “full time” Storybrooke arc. That means that yes, Milah is back and so are Killian and Emma and yes! They will meet very very soon!

That being said... enjoy the chapter and don’t forget to let me know what you think!

__________________

As consciousness came back to Emma, she started to feel a burn in the arm she hurt yesterday since she forgot to take proper care of it the night before. She hissed, not wanting to open her eyes and prayed that the pain would go away. But as the minutes passed, it became obvious that the pain was there to stay, so she gave up on trying to sleep.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and the first thing she noticed was that the room was still dark. She was confused for a moment, not recognizing the room but then she remembered the events of the previous night. She smiled, closing her eyes as she brought the blanket closer to her chest. As she moved, though, her arm burned her even worse than before and the pain forced her to open her eyes. She rose to a sitting position in the bed and looked towards the place Hook fell asleep the night before but to her surprise, the place was empty. She looked around the room but found he wasn't there. His clothes weren't on the floor anymore and even her clothes were carefully arranged on the table.

As she sat on the edge of the bed, the door opened slightly. She looked at it, praying that it wasn’t one of her parents and smiled when she saw Hook’s head appear.

“You’re awake,” he said with a smile.

“Yes. And so are you. How long have you been awake?” she asked, making a gesture for him to come inside before anyone else could see him.

“For an hour or two,” he said, coming into his cabin and closing the door.

“I didn’t want someone else to wake up before us and then question where you slept last night.”

“And? Was anyone awake before you?”

“Yes, Tink, since she was the one who sent me to sleep last night.” Seeing Emma’s confused look he explained to her. “She told me she would watch over the ship while everyone slept and that I should rest too. She was still there this morning. When I woke up, I told her to take a break, and not long after that, David appeared. He asked me, quite suspiciously, if I knew anything about where you were, so I told him that you slept in my room. He almost killed me until I told him that I was on deck all night,” he explained, winking at her.

“Thank you,” she said putting her head on his shoulder.

She was still naked, save for the blanket that was covering her and she felt the cold from his leather coat when she touched it with her skin.

“How early it is?” she asked raising her head and looking at him.

“Not that early, but since we are still flying, that’s why it’s still dark outside,” he explained.

Emma looked towards the window, amazed that they were in the sky. She was wondering now if she would have seen the stars last night if she would have stayed outside for longer. But at the same time, she didn’t regret that she sneaked into Hook’s cabin and waited for him to arrive.

“We are close to Storybrooke, though. We will be there in a few hours,” Killian said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Perfect.” She smiled at him and then realized that she was still naked. “I should get dressed and go see how Henry is,” Emma said, standing up with the blanket still around her.

“Do you want me to leave while you are changing?” he asked her.

“Really? You saw me naked last night and now you are questioning if I want you to stay in the room while I change or not?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

“One can never know for sure,” he answered with a grin.

“Stay. But no funny business,” she warned him with a smile.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

For the next few minutes, as Emma rose from the bed and moved to get her clothes, she felt his eyes roam her naked body; especially after she let the blanket fall on the floor and moved to put on her underwear..

“You’re staring,” she told him as she put on her bra, turning her head to see him.

“You are beautiful,” Hook told her.

She felt him rising from the bed and coming up behind her. He put his arms on her shoulders and kissed her behind the right ear.

“I said no funny business,” Emma told him, turning and brushing his nose with his.

“No funny business,” he whispered into her ear.

He moved his hand and hook down her arms, but when she felt the pressure of his hand on her sore arm, she hissed from the pain.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worry present in his voice.

She turned to face him and started to talk.

“My arm is still hurting from yesterday when I fell in the forest. I didn’t really take care of it when we came back here.”

“You should ask your parents or Regina to take a look at it,” he said, worried.

“It’s fine; none of them are actual doctors and I don’t think it’s actually broken. Just sore from the moment I fell. I’ll go to the doctor in Storybrooke if it doesn’t get any better.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Now, I really need to get dressed,” she said as she stepped away from him.

“Okay. I’ll leave so I don’t disturb you,” he said.

“No, you won’t,” Emma said, while closing her bra.

“I don’t think anyone would be happy to know that I’m here while you are changing,” he teased her.

“Yes, because you did not see more than this,” she said, gesturing to her half dressed body.

“I’ll leave, though, before I distract you even more. I’ll see you in a bit,” he said as he left the room.

Emma finished getting dressed and then searched around the room for something to use to brush her hair. She found a mirror and went to it, happy to see that in front of it was a comb; his, most likely. After that, she took a look around the cabin since she didn’t have time to the night before; not before he came to the cabin and definitely not after that. Then, making sure that she didn’t leave anything behind, she left and went to Henry’s room.

She knocked twice at the door to his cabin before the door was opened and her kid appeared.

“Mom!” he exclaimed, making room for her to get in.

“How are you today, Henry? Where’s Regina?” she asked, putting a hand around his shoulders when she entered the room.

“I’m fine. I slept like a baby. It’s good to finally be able to rest. And Regina left earlier. What about you?”

“I’m great. Happy that we are finally close to Storybrooke,” she said, smiling at him.

“We are?” Henry asked with happiness on his face.

“Oh yes! I talked with Hook earlier and he said that we will be there in a few hours.”

“Cool!”

“We should go on a holiday after this whole thing, Henry. Do you want to?” she asked her son.

“Yes!” he said excitedly.

“Good. Because we both need it.”

Emma looked out the window of the room and saw that the darkness from outside was almost gone, making room for the morning light. She looked at Henry to ask him if he wanted to go on deck when she heard his stomach growl. Henry turned to look at her and started to laugh.

“Do you want to go and see if there is any food left?” Emma asked, laughing as well.

“Yes please!”

They exited the cabin together and climbed the stairs that led to the deck. Everyone was there already, save for Tink who, most likely, was asleep, and Rumplestiltskin. Hook was at the helm, Regina was looking overboard with a serious look on her face, and Mary Margaret and David were together talking in a corner. When they saw Emma and Henry, Mary Margaret came to Emma and hugged her.

“Morning, Emma, Henry,” she said with a smile.

It was clear to her now where Henry got his non-stop happiness from because it wasn’t from her and it definitely wasn’t from Neal. Mary Margaret on the other hand, much like Henry, was always happy and full of hope.

“Hi,” she told her and David, who joined them as well.

“Hello, Emma. Did you sleep well?” David asked her.

“Oh, yeah!”

“I heard you slept in Hook’s room,” David said, earning an eye roll from Emma and an elbow in the stomach from Mary Margaret.

“Um, yeah I did. I didn’t have anywherere to sleep, remember? He offered to give me his room for the night.”

“And what about him?” David asked, still suspicious.

“David!”

“Dad! He was here all night!” Emma said, remembering the small lie Hook told to her father.

“Mom. Do you think Hook would teach me how to sail?” Henry asked her, saving her from her father who was prepared to ask her something else.

“You could ask him,” Emma answered her son, moving her attention from her parents to him.

“Can I ask him now?”

“Of course. Let’s go ask,” Emma said, thankful for the distraction her son offered. But then Emma remembered her son’s wish to eat, so she turned back to Mary Margaret.

“Do we have any food left? Henry’s hungry,” she told her.

“Of course! I’ll go get some,” Mary Margaret answered and disappeared to get food for Henry.

Hook POV

After Hook left Emma to change in his cabin, he went back on the deck to make sure that everything was how it was supposed to be. But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about Emma and the night they spent together. Earlier that morning, he woke up with her head still on his chest, blonde locks spread on him and her hand hovering over his heart. He would be a liar if he said that he didn’t want to wake up like that for the rest of his days. He hated to leave her, but had to do it before anyone else could wake up and start asking questions. And he was right. He knew David didn’t truly believe him when Killian told him that he was on the deck the whole time Emma was sleeping in his cabin, but he didn’t regret anything.

After he came back on deck, Regina was already there and as soon as she saw him, she started questioning him about when they would reach Storybrooke. He gave her the same answer he gave Emma: they were close. She seemed to like his answer because she nodded and retired to a corner, looking at the clouds and thinking. Not long after that, Emma’s parents came up to the deck. David looked at him suspiciously and then said something to his wife. Killian saw her rolling her eyes and then they started to talk about something. But the longer they talked, the more it looked like an argument between the two of them and if the looks David were sending his way were any indication, they were talking about him.

Then Emma and Henry appeared on the deck, and he did everything in his power to not stare at her as she was crushed in a hug by her mother, but it was hard. When he saw her earlier, her hair was a beautiful, tangled mess from the activities they partook in the night before. But now, her hair was falling carefully in a golden cascade down her back. He moved his eyes to her face and he could see that whatever David was telling her, she wasn’t comfortable with it. Then Henry looked at him. Killian smiled at the lad and Henry smiled back, then turned his head to talk to Emma. The mother and son talked for a bit and at one point in the conversation, Emma looked at him and then again at Henry. She smiled at him, put a hand around his shoulders and both of them started to walk towards Hook.

“Good morning, lad,” Killian told Henry.

“Hey,” Henry saluted him with a smile.

The boy looked at his mother as if he was waiting for her to say something. Emma blinked twice and then started to talk to him.

“Henry was wondering if you could show him how to sail,” Emma told him with a smirk.

Killian raised an eyebrow at her words and then looked at Henry.

“You want to learn how to sail?”

“It looks cool. And Neal showed me once how to do it, but it’s been a few weeks since then and I don’t remember too much.”

“When did that happen?” Killian asked, looking confused at Emma.

“Um… when we went to New York to find Neal and you came after us?” Emma said, somehow looking ashamed.

“Ah. Alright then,” Killian said, remembering very well the moment they took his ship and left him in the strange city.

“Sorry about that?” Emma said with a small smile.

“Aye. Well then lad,” Killian said, moving his attention to Henry. “Why don’t you come and take a look?”

“Really?”

“Of course. How else could I teach you?”

As Henry came to stand in front of him at the helm, Killian looked at Emma. She nodded at him with a smile on her face that he took as a thank you, and he smiled back at her.

He spent the next few minutes teaching Henry how to sail while Emma was watching at them. Henry was more like his father than he would ever know, especially when it came to sailing. He was a fast learner, Killian only had to show him twice what he had to do and then the lad was able to do it all by himself. Killian spent the rest of the time telling Henry stories about the time Neal spend aboard his ship and at one point in the story, Emma moved closer to hear what he was saying. He left out the part where he gave Bae to Pan and the Lost Boys, knowing that neither Emma nor Henry would want to hear that. He also left out the part where Bae learned about his own story with Milah.

“Will you teach me more about sailing when we get back to Storybrooke?” Henry asked him after he finished a story about how Bae challenged a member of his crew to duel on his fourth day on the ship.

“Of course I will. If you mother will give you her permission, of course,” he said, looking hopefully at Emma.

“I don’t see why not,” she said, smiling at them.

“Is that Storybrooke?” Mary Margaret said as she came over, holding a plate of food and giving it to Henry.

Emma, Hook, and Henry looked in the direction Mary Margaret was pointing at and indeed, there was the town. Only it had something that looked like a shield around it.

“What is that?” Emma said, pointing at the exact thing he was looking at.

“It’s a protection spell,” said the Dark One, his voice coming from an open door on the deck.

“Can we get through it?” Emma asked him.

“Yes. I can take down the spell easily,” he said, pulling a face that Killian wanted to punch.

“Then do it!” Regina snapped at the Dark One from the other side of the deck.

With a flick of his hand, an opening appeared in the shield and the ship passed through it without problem.

Killian guided the ship as it made its landing back in the waters of the town. The rest of the distance to the docks passed in a blink of an eye and faster than anyone could believe, they were dropping the anchor (Regina did it with her magic) and were preparing to get off the ship.

As they docked, Killian could see that the docks were starting to get full of people, all of them being there, without a doubt, to welcome everyone back. One by one, starting with Mary Margaret and David, everyone started to get off the ship. Still on the Jolly, Hook could see Mary Margaret and David being hugged by the owner of the diner while the wolf girl was hugging Emma and Henry. Then they changed places, the old woman was hugging Henry and then Emma and the wolf girl was hugging Emma’s parents. Everyone was hugging someone, except for him and Regina. Even the Dark One was met with a warm hug from his love. All Killian was able to do was to look at them, since the only person who cared about him was currently squashed into another hug by the cricket.

When the hugging ended, some of the people from the crowd started to leave. The only ones that stayed on the docks were those who were friends with Emma’s family and he heard them finally making plans for a big dinner and party at Granny’s later in the day. He didn’t want to intrude, not being sure if anyone actually wanted him at the party - though a part of him hoped that Emma will want him to be there with them - so he stayed behind. But before anyone could leave, Emma turned to look at him. Hook smiled at her and she smiled back, starting to walk towards him.

“Are you coming?” she asked him.

“Where?”

“To Granny’s,” she said as if it was an obvious thing.

“Do you want me to come?” he asked back.

“Of course. You deserve to celebrate just as much as we do,” she said, coming closer to him, taking his hand in hers. He looked towards her family but none of them were looking at what Emma and him were doing.

“Come,” Emma said again with a smile, tugging their hands closer to her.

“Okay,” he said, finally being able to smile back.

He expected Emma’s hand to drop as soon as they started to walk, but it didn’t; not immediately. She let his hand down when they were in front of her family. Everyone was ready to walk back into the city when Killian heard his name being called from behind him.

He turned, not knowing who might be calling after him, and he could have sworn his heart stopped for the second time in the last forty-eight hours. He felt the need to grab something and hold onto it, and the closest thing to him was Emma’s hand.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, panic evident in her voice.

“Do you see that woman?” Killian asked Emma, not being able to take his eyes away from the woman standing in front of him.

He was sure that he was seeing dead people. This couldn’t have been real. No way was it real or even possible in any realm. Should he expect to start seeing his brother? His mother? Or even his father? Was he going to start seeing the people he killed in the last 300 years? Was this his punishment for dying and then cheating death again by being awoken by Emma’s kiss?

Before he could think more, Emma started to speak.

“I do. I see her. Killian, who is she?” Emma asked, even more worried.

“Killian?” the vision in front of him said his name again. His real name, not his moniker, the name no one else had used in the last 300 years. The name Emma started to use from time to time when it was just the two of them, alone.

“Milah?” he finally said. Saying the name out loud after so many years shocked him even more.

#Captain Swan #cs ff #cs neverland #cs fanfics #captainswanandclintasha #awake and alive

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survivor-mesopotamia · 4 years

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Ep. #2 - “Shit ain’t over till the fat lady sings and I didn’t warm my pipes.” (Cameron)

Day 4: Well. I survived my first tribal council of the season, and even though it went exactly according to plan, while I slept my entire day away, I'm still really hesitant to tell myself that I'm doing well on my tribe. I'm really nervous that my tribe mates are playing me, and that I'm really boo boo tha fool here. I called Megan post-tribal, and I was finally able to get some closure on something that happened between us in our personal lives, which felt really good. After that, she asked me about the idol, to which I had responded "Wait, Julian didn't tell you?", which hopefully sows some seeds of doubt in Megan about Julian. Ideally, if the Enlil tribe has to go back to tribal council, the four of us can bear witness to a Megan vs. Julian war. Because unfortunately, the connections I have outside Enlil, are shared with either Julian or Megan. If Megan and Julian are going after each other pre-merge, or during a swap scenario, I don't have to share those connections anymore. After that, Megan and I just talked about the nudes we received during quarantine ~ I then promptly ran to Will to tell him about the potential crack I just formed between Julian and Megan, which was met with genuine excitement. I think I'm really gaining Will's trust, and I think we vibe so well together. Love that guy! Overall, it wasn't a very productive day because I woke up at 4:30p PST. Love that for me, thanks for shading me @ Tribal Bodhi.

going into this scavenger hunt as the tribe that went to tribal last is worrysome. It's a challenge that's fully dependent on our activity, so we are at a serious disadvantage against the other two tribes that get to choose someone less active to sit out. We don't have that luxury. The point/life system eases the blow, however, since we can get less active players 1 life while more active players can get 3. In case we lose, I'm trying to connect with everyone on the tribe. I really don't want to vote anyone out though. I have an alliance with Julian and JJ, and one with Will on the side. Chrissa wants to work with Julian, JJ and myself, and I think Megan and JJ have something on the side. I'm nervous for who would be the target in the vote, and any vote would hurt all of our games collectively. Hopefully we win because the next vote will not be easy AT ALL.

Done w typing this sheet

youtube

jj and zachary are so fucking annoying to this challenge and if i vote for you first at the swap, its probably because youre typing too much during this challenge sorry not sorry xoxo - sincerely johnny a month from now

let me be clear with andrew I was not calling his hosting unfair i was calling the fact that a majority green item giving him a point unfair not the hosting but lack of yellow, also i have a headache i don't feel that good. and I just don't think zach should have had a point for it nothing against hosting obviously i watch a movie trivia thing where literally they have a challenge to challenge any questions that are unfair, that doesn't mean they are calling the question writers or the answer writers unfair.

Zach just won the tribal challenge for us which is fantastic. We can maintain the illusion of a unified tribe longer, which keeps us together in a swap situation, and Zach has clearly painted a challenge target on himself over the last two challenges which will make him go before me if our Triforce ever becomes the minority. I'm really happy with my position in the game right now

youtube

me and monty trying to find the idol and decode this annoying ass video https://imgur.com/a/lu7sbMu

Forgive me father for I have sinned it's been approximately three days since my last confession so far can't complain really we be winning they hating we be riding pretty damn clean I've got a majoritu alliance I didn't start so odds of it falling around me and being the first voted out slim to none thank the sweet baby jesis and all that good shit. Oh well that's all for now

JULIAN’S HOST CHAT GUEST, ZEE:

I am filling in a confessional because you told me to. I am in front of my fan because it's hot. I'm thinking that it seems pretty stupid to ask me for a confessional. Julian's prod chat isn't very interesting because he's distracted.

youtube

also just threw out madison's name to johnny. if this shit backfires on me ill be ):

https://youtu.be/Pqck1gayfJU

https://youtu.be/FMay7NycsPw

yo yo yo homies!!! fuck the scavenger hunt and the mobile Skype app !! Lowkey scared but I think I’m close with everyone on the tribe except madi soooooooooo that’s probably who will go tonight. I’ve connected a lot with Monty and am hoping we can work together closely moving forward 💕not sure how useful my relationship with Zach is going to be come swap/merge bc it seems like he’s ALREADY making himself a target like the big doof he is. More later 💋

https://youtu.be/Qg47yupj1bQ

https://youtu.be/vUK8A1qWVoA

Hello tumblr survivor world! Sorry I didnt confess for episode 1, I was going to but i accidentally exited out of the page when i almost finished writing it. Anyways, it was just a cast assessment for my tribe so tl;dr everyone on my tribe is great and its really sad that we have to vote someone out now. So this whole weekend I was away so I was REALLY worried that I would be voted out since I sat out of the challenge. But after talking to Johnny and Isabelle, it seems like Madison will be voted out tonight. Which is so bad bc this her first game in a year, but hey it's our first vote and it's not me so it's not really the time to make a stand. _________________________________________________________________________________________ Okay I took a break from writing this confessional and there's moreeeeeeeee so part 2 I guess. So I had a call with Johnny and we came up with an alliance of me, him, Isabelle, and Benji. What an iconic alliance, right? But also while Johnny and I talked we got onto the topic of idols and why it is that there hasn't been an idol post yet. I brought up that wayyyyyy back when in Malaysia and some other games around that time, some of the idol hunts were less clear cut. We ended up looking at the blog and clicking the "idol system" tab and it brought us to some weird crab video with audio that sounds like a pokemon cry? Idk part of me thinks its just a joke but I also have to consider that it might be SOMETHING. It said remember to like and subscribe so I sent a screenshot of me liking and subscribing to see if that would do anything but nope. Johnny said he'd do some thinking about it and get back to me later if he figures something out. Also tribal seems super clear cut so I'm a bit less worried now but y'know how it is I can't not worry about tribal.

i just spent $8 on a spectogram and STILL cant find this fucking idol im gonna kms... monty im sorry im steam rolling ahead looking for this thing without telling you, but thank you for the first clue xoxo... if i get stumped in the future ill reach out for SURE (but idt you trust me that much so this seems kinda valid to me) ((FOUR HOURS LATER: i told monty lololol)) ALSO FOR FUCKS SAKE I think madison is gonna go, and truthfully, im fine with it because it's the easiest thing to do due to her poor performance in the past few challenges and just being the least AROUND the tribe, but i know that it'd probably be better for me long term to get rid of abby because i just dont see her as a long term ally for me. i think she's close to JJ and Megan on the other tribe, and she's becoming much more acclimated to the tumblr survivor community that i just BET that she maybe has an additional connection on the rookie tribe. If I can attempt to break that up before we get to a swap, I think that's what im going to have to do figure out if we lose another challenge before a swap... i dont really want to see ANYBODY else go besides abby if im thinking about a second boot. i bet it wont be easy to take her out tho also, if madison goes, this is like...... lowkey vindication for game changers???? last night i talked about this with monty and i was like hmmmm "is it ugly to bring up past game history?" and his response was "not if it's within the same series" .... so. vindication

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omg i just told madison how to find the idol system thing i hope she doesnt tell anyone i told her about it LMAO........ this almost seems too easy.i got added to two alliances today. why do i not feel safe? is it me going? WTF IS GOING ON

excited to be first boot because no one will TALK TO ME!

Things haven’t changed much since my last confessional! As far as I know the tribe hasn’t started into alliances and we’re all riding some excitement at having so far avoided tribal. I think the rest of the tribe and I are all feeling good and just focusing on making the tribe switch without losing any members.

from round 2 https://youtu.be/fk002uG2HoI

Hi sorry I forgot to do a confessional this round so this will be short imma just say a few things 1. I don’t trust julian one bit he can stop being shady to me 2. I can’t believe we aren’t going to tribal I’m so fkn happy i was able to pull out the win for our tribe because I didn’t want to lose anybody else 3. I love and adore will with all of my being and he’s my number 1 ally right now 4. I find it highly doubtful that there’s only one idol in this game and that you can’t find it until merge but that’s as far as I can get in the idol search for now so I guess there’s nothing I can do about it 5. I’m still having fun can’t wait to fuck up another flash game yay!!!

My Purple edit is amazing right now. But having played more games than most of these newbies, I have decided to take on the role of teacher and becoming more of a "role model" for these newbies. I feel like I have the closest bond with Zach, and I need to get a little closer with Collin. I have Grace from past games, and then there are the others who I do not really have any strong bonds with at the moment. I guess I need to start going to them more and show that I want to work with them.

https://youtu.be/yhwXzqrTcsA Confessional 2 for round 2

https://youtu.be/TVnpwqc8XLY

Madison voted out 6-1

#nomorethings

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somethingsimilartosnow · 5 years

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back on my bullshit

hello tumblr

wow my online diary coming to a full circle here! Haven’t posted on this page since maybe I was ... 20? Well, hello, here I am, now 24, and life has HAPPENED. I just am so in need of a place to write down my thoughts, my feelings, my life happenings, so it’s not just all scrambled up in my head to spew at my therapist every other Tuesday. So therefore, we turn to the beautiful world of tumblr and my ~secret blog~. I once thought this was so edgy and risky and what if anyone found this (even though I wanted everyone to find it at one point technically) and now I just need a table to vomit my emotions all over!

Anywho - today I’m here to talk about, not Tyler, not Rob (DEFINITELY not Rob, but maybe I will write all about him when I’m ready to, just for my record keeping), but a man named Dillon. Now I met Dillon about 2/2.5 weeks ago on a dating app (gotta love hinge lol - yes past self, you did have to resort to online dating for a time at least!!! will keep ya updated as to how THAT goes) and we met up at Crooked Can on a beautiful, sweaty summer evening.

Now I should preface - the harmonious timing of everything falling into place whence meeting Dillon is just uncanny. We had exchanged some quick back and forth messages via this ‘app’ and he said he’d be back from Boston in about a week, and he’d text me when he returned to set up a time to meet. Pretty forward considering we had pretty much only talked about pineapple definitely belonging on pizza how he didn’t understand what I do for work. So I thought ‘uh ok!’ and didn’t stress. At this time, I was still so hung up on ROB (stupid! rob!) that I didn’t really think about Dillon much. Then occured That Fateful Night(TM) with Rob, at the Guest House, with a Hummingbird (this is my play on the game Clue! It’s funny - future me will think I’m a smug comedic genius). INSERT STORY ABOUT THAT FATEFUL NIGHT HERE - coming in a post soon maybe idk lol. OKAY ANYWAYS. Saturday morning, I woke up, went to Star Wars land - I have a cool job - and messaged Rob, being mature and wanting to talk things through. Several housed passed, no response, several more hours, no response, and next thing I knew it was Sunday morning and I had never heard from him. My heart clenched into a writhing ball of stress anxiety over the unknown - what did this man now think of me? What did I do wrong? What’s wrong with me? No, no, no - WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM? But you know who I did receive a message from that same Saturday? You guessed it - Dillon.

Yes, this is still a story about Dillon and not about Rob, that’s where we pick up at the Crooked Can the following Thursday evening.

Having pretty much laid my anxieties about Rob aside, I was preparing to unfriend, unfollow, and detach myself from him that coming weekend. In the mean time, I primped and puffed myself to go meet this man, who I knew virtually nothing about except that he worked in marketing. I made myself a drink, drove to the bar, and 4 hours later, was fairly surprised. ‘Not usually the type of guy I go for, but very nice and obviously a good person,’ I thought to myself. In reality, I couldn’t believe I had gone on a second successful first date in a matter of months! Me! A dating girl! What is going on! So we exchanged some pleasantries as we walked to our cars, he hugged me and we parted ways.

Cut to about a week later, we both are looking forward to seeing eachother again and decide to grab some food, head to a rooftop bar, and just hang out. It’s easy with Dillon. I don’t stand waiting for him and wonder if he’ll like me that time or if he will freakout and want to leave. I don’t have heart-writhing-and-wrenching anxiety leading up to seeing him. It’s simply fun and exciting. (OMG HES SO CUTE TOO AND LIKE STRONG??? HE HAS MUSCLES??? I am HARDLY ATHLETIC so idk what is happening!!!!!!) So here we are back in downtown Winter Garden, munching away chatting eachother’s ears off, and just having a good ol’ time. He was suggesting I come running with him and his close friend/almost roommate that weekend (lol um no? no, running with a cute athletic boy is a recipe for embarrassment - and I already just naturally embarrass myself anyways so lets not put myself in a situation to force even more of that um thanks byeyeyye). I was busy that day luckily, but I invited him to come and see a 90′s cover band with my work friends and I at the House of Blues - next day. A little bold to suggest he’d want to see me two nights in a row, and I suppose even more bold just throwing it out there that I’d want to see him two nights in a row. I mean, we’ve only known eachother for a week, let’s not be crazy! He says ‘you know, I’m watching the UFC fight with my friend,’ and my heart softens a little and I understand he’s busy, has his own life, etc. etc. Then he says, ‘But let me see if he’d want to do that instead.’

CUT TO - INT. HOUSE OF BLUES BALCONY.

We’re dancing! We’re vibing! And we’re having such a great time! He is kind and sweet, he’s holding my hand and has his hand on my back and everything is beautiful. I have my left hand on his right shoulder, and my chin is resting on top of my hand. He says something snappy looking right at my eyes, and I’m looking at his and he quickly glances at my lips.

God, I love kissing. I love it almost more than any other physical thing. I love learning how other people kiss, I love that scratchy feeling of a man’s face at the end of the day all prickly against my skin. I love feeling their jaw and their tongue and their body against mine. I love the tension of it - what happens next? How far do we go tonight? How much can I make you want me? All of this relates to later so please consider this a footnote (1).

House of Blues is great - and I can tell I’m going to see him again. As we’re walking to get our uber, I say to him something silly about the stars and the universe and everything in life coming together and “intersecting” I say.

“Intersecting?” He repeats.

“Intersecting.”

“Intersexing? Rachael!”

I curl my lower lip over my teeth and say, “That...is NOT what I said.” Boldly, I decide to say to him, “You have something on the mind, Dillon?”

He giggles and takes a pause, “Oh I’ve got a lot on my mind. Most of them are about you, some of them aren’t.” The tension hangs in the air like a bioluminescent force stringing us together as we’re walking in front of the group. “Mainly how you didn’t take me to Star Wars!” He exclaims, cutting the tension with a knife, and we’re back where we started.

So that’s Saturday, we kiss goodnight and he drives him and his friend home. And here’s the good news, I do hear from him again.

Not being able to drink beer, as I inevitably get sick every single time I consume it for some godforsaken reason!, I tell him he must come to my house, retrieve the drink, and help me clear out my fridge. (holy crap this post is long, sorry future self, especially if it all goes south after i post this lol yikes crispies) So here we are again, on a Thursday evening, almost exactly two weeks from the day we first met (actually, exactly two weeks) and I am yet again primping and puffing myself to see him. This is yesterday btw!!!

I couldn’t believe how far I had moved from Rob - completely cutting him out and him doing the same to me caused incredible healing for my heart. I have to tread lightly though, because I now know how I react to things in relationships and how strongly they can affect me. That’s why I have my intuition, though. She guides me through all of the struggles in my life. Maybe it’s the holy spirit. Can’t confirm - will do more research and get back to you.

He arrives, and we eat dinner. Well, I really hardly eat anything because I’m talking so much or so intently listening to him talk that I essentially forgot the plate of food was right in front of me. He offers to do the dishes - which is very kind. I refuse, though, and vow to myself that I must do them tomorrow. I should probably also note that I had two drinks prior to him coming because I wanted to be loose and relaxed and have fun! In my own home. We’re hoping this doesn’t tumble out of control. Hahaha! Anyways!!!

First and foremost following dinner, he teaches me how to bat, weird. But funny, I hit out of the park and we high five and settle on the couch. We ramble and go on and on about the cars we drive, or the work we do, or the music we listen to. He loves Mumford and Sons, and he puts on the Lumineers as the score to our conversation. We watch some silly comedy shows that we tell eachother about, and I am giggle central (three drinks in at this point I guess?). I goto the restroom, and decide there while staring into my bathroom mirror, I have to ask him about the dating world and what he does and why he does it.

Dating is tricky - people are under no obligation to be with you and you alone. And with someone like Dillon, he is so outgoing and extroverted that I could only assume he’s fairly um, unmonogamous? Spelling? He spent 4 years in a bad relationship where the girl ended up as a lesbian at the end of it, so I can only imagine he just wants everything to lay low for a few years in terms of commitment and really tying yourself to someone.

So I flounce out of the bathroom and plop myself on the couch, my legs twisted up and I’m curled into a ball - which I still am surprised I can do with the size of my legs, but I suppose it makes me feel small in a comforting way. “So, I’m going to ask you a more serious question, and it’s kind of weird and I don’t want you to freak out,” I say.

“Ask away.” (Um this is all conjecture bc I’m a little tipsy at this moment so - not while typing this, I mean at the time I brought this up last night)

Essentially, I asked him (I could never be an author, my tenses are all mixed up) if he dates monogamously, what his vibe is right now with it all, if he is into me I guess?

This is going to get a little more mish mashed and less narrated because I kind of just need to write all of this part down to get it on the table and survey it all. I’ll let you know when we’re getting back to the fun narrated part.

He said he usually dates around, he can’t really commit to anything right now. His life is very busy and hectic and whatever, but that he is really enjoying hanging out with me. He said “You know, it’s not for like the sex or the attention, it’s to know people and meet people and make connections.” He kept saying, “I just don’t want you to get hurt, I don’t want you to get hurt,” and I kept saying “Okay, listen, I know myself, I know my boundaries, I know where to draw my own lines.” At one point he even said “It’s so sexy how well you know yourself.” THAT GOT MEEEEE. He said the last girl he dated, their 5 year plans really didn’t line up - she wanted to be married expecting children in two years (she was older - 28), and Dillon, being a 24 year old, young, attractive man was obviously not about that! He knew he has to end it because it wasn’t lining up. I said to him that I think it’s perfectly fair for him to date around, it’s perfectly fine for him to say all of this, and I didn’t say this, but I really was not at all surprised that he said any of this. Like I said, it’s fitting with who he is and his character. I guess I get nervous that he kept saying “I don’t want to hurt you,” or “I don’t want you to get hurt.” As though he feels he will inevitably do so or? Unsure. That’s what Rob kept saying on That Fateful Night(TM), which is why I feel a little triggered by it I guess. So the next question I asked, and I prefaced with “Just because I’m curious, and I want to know where you’re at, are you currently seeing anyone else?” He took a pause. “No, I’m not right now. I don’t know, when I met you something just clicked.” My heart fluttered. “You’re very different than the type of girls I usually date, but I like that.” I reassured him - you are no arrogant artsy jerk who’s going to just up and ghost me - so I also am in the same boat. I said to him that that’s kind of the beauty of it, and meeting new people that are so different than you and connecting with them is so wonderful. He said that his friend said something like “Wow, so you’re seeing this girl two nights in a row?” and he kind of was like “Uh, oh yeah I guess so!” kind of insinuating that there’s something special and different happening here. He said, “I’m enjoying myself, you’re enjoying yourself, obviously this is going well, let’s just take it slow.” I agreed, but uhhh you know. I’m trying to make out with him a little obviously and so somehow it got brought up, and I said, “I mean, we can just have fun, make out a little, right?” And he smiled, “Yeah, we can do that.”

Ok and I think this is where I’m going to try and be narrative again! Dang, am I a novelist chica?

I leaned in and kissed him, his scratchy face pressing into mine. It’s slow and intimate at first - and we fully know what we’re getting into. His mouth is minty and refreshing (almost like...he ALSO was wanting to makeout....hmmmmmmm.....) and he’s kissing me so wonderfully and I love the way his lips feel against mine. My right leg gently slides over his lap and his arms are wrapping around my waist and I go up. His hands move over my belt loops and around my hips and to my stomach, and mine are holding his jaw to mine and I don’t want him to ever let go. We look at each other and he’s smiling at me. I bite my lower lip. And then he says THE MOST DIRECT THING A MAN HAS MAYBE EVER SAID TO ME “I do want to have sex with you...” OH MY GOD?! “Ok, so what are we going to do?” I respond. He kisses me again, “We’re going to wait. I’m going to see you again.” “Okay,” I say and lean in and start kissing him again. I may at one point have said “I want to rip all of your clothes off,” but uhhhh we’ll deal with that another time hehe. I pull back and look at him, and startled he yells, “WOO okay time to go before anything else happens!” I get off of him and he puts his arm over his head, his eyes large and shocked. Quickly, he stands up, adjusts his shirt, pushes his hair back and says (again OH MY GOD) “Gonna walk downstairs with a boner!” OH MY GOD?!!!

“Sorry...” I say, obviously not sorry, obviously very satisfied with myself. “Okay, I’ve gotta go, I will see you. I need to leave now.”

We kiss goodbye, and then I holler at him down the stairs to come grab the beer his friend left at my place. He comes up and takes it, leans in and kisses me again, and down the stairs he goes.

And that’s it. That’s where we are now. Here I am this morning, letting the Lumineers serenade my creative work flow as I try to calm myself down from the um, excitement of last night. I need to be careful, and I need to protect myself. I am saying I can protect myself and I need to make sure that’s true. I’m not going to stop living my life the way I always do. Tonight, I’m seeing Erin, tomorrow, I’m getting brunch with my girlfriends and then going to game night at Kayla’s apartment, and Sunday, I’m going to church. This is my life and he is a fun addition that I’m so excited about. Oh my god!

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madethisjusttorant · 6 years

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ACTUALLY JUST MADE THIS TUMBLR SO I COULD POST THIS RANT ON MY FINSTA.

Okay so I wasn’t going to talk about this with anyone, but after doing some research and hearing so many horrific things I need to speak out. Last Monday I believe I admitted myself to a mental hospital. I was having an extremely hard time and felt that I needed help ASAP and my schools health center (which is known to be p bad) recommended I go to Las Encinas hospital for a college student program. I felt SO good that I finally was able to ask for help and was excited to go get it. I arrived at the hospital and it was really pretty. After meeting with an admissions person they told me they felt it was best I spend the night. After signing some paper work I was taken back to the inpatient area where things INSTANTLY did not feel right. I was approached right away by an old woman who called me her “best friend” and was asking me if I like to do “Thai chi” and she kept asking me if I’m okay. I felt super uncomfortable and confused as to why there was a crazy old woman here because I was told it was for college students. The staff proceeded to go through my belongings confiscating notebooks, pencils, hair clips, makeup, and cutting strings off all of my clothes (which I only brought a pair of pjs). I told the nurse that I felt I was in the wrong place and that this was a mistake. He told me to keep to myself and just get through it and things will be fine. After that another nurse started giving me a tour. More crazy (I hate to say crazy but idk how else to describe rn) adults were making animal noises, saying absurd things, sleeping on the ground, and looking at me. I was bawling hysterically and kept telling my nurse I felt really uncomfortable and don’t think this is the place for me. She asked me why. I said because I thought I was going to be with people my age, a place for college students who are going through a tough time, not an insane asylum. She thought I was feeling “left out” and “shy” and proceeded to introduce me to a group of people. “Hello, this is mackenzie she’s 20 and she’s new here.” THE OTHER NURSE TOLD ME NOT TO TALK TO PEOPLE. Ok there is so much to say. But there were no doors on my bathroom and I was checked on every 15 min. The doctor determines your mental state and how long you should be there. The doctor didn’t even see me my first day. After a day of not being fed and crying all night, I was waken up at 6 am to be forced meds and to get my blood taken. I was sitting while a man shoved a needle in my arm and a patient next to me yelled “shit, fuck, cocksucker, asshole, douchebag” over and over. I asked a nurse if I could see the doctor and they didn’t have an answer for me. THEY DIDNT GIVE ME A SCHEDULE, they didn’t tell me what to do. There were no clocks and all I had was a journal they gave me. I just wrote all day. I had occasional conversations with people who seemed pretty normal until they either a) started imitating a baby or b) told me their younger selfs spirit told them they were going to be here or some shit. The meds they gave me made me very sick and I started vomiting so I decided to nap (also had nothing else to do). In the middle of my nap, my doctor finally saw me. He woke me up, and stood above my bed and questioned me. I was delusional from my nap/meds and also not wearing a shirt or bra so I felt super uncomfortable. He said I was severely depressed for sleeping during the day and he was concerned. I was like “well I am depressed but no I don’t feel well I was just socializing a while ago.” I began to tell him how I don’t feel like I should be there and he barely listened and told me that he was going to change my meds and left before I could even ask any questions. All they had for us to do was make bracelets or draw. I spent hours writing in a journal about how awful my experience was, drawing fucking nonsense, and making bracelets, and talking to drug addicts and people with schizophrenia. No one was my age. No one could relate to me. The other patients constantly asked me why I should be there. Unfortunately any time the nurses were even around, I was crying, so I probs seemed insane idk! Also every time I asked to see the doctor they told me they didn’t know when he would be there. HOURS AND DAYS went on and on my third day a boy showed up from UCSB who is 18. Normally I’m shy and depressed and don’t approach people but I immediately was like “HEY IM KENZIE HOW OLD R U?”. We hung out and talked about why we were there. He got caught smoking weed and his roommates told on him and the police forced him to go to the hospital and then he was transferred to Las Encinas and put into a serious unit where you are locked in your room for 4 days and then finally he was brought to my unit. HOW FUCKED UP. we spent our day making bracelets, drawing, and listening to horrific stories from other patients. He had the same doctor as me and at one point the doctor came to see him. The doctor walked right by me and ignored me. The 18 year old told me that he asked the doctor to talk to me and he just walked away. The 18 year old was being released later that day. I started to freak out (internally) bc why was no one listening to me! ALSO I could leave any time I wanted. I went there voluntarily. But if I left without a doctor saying I could then my insurance wouldn’t cover it and I’d have to pay thousands of dollars. So my parents told me I had to stay and thought I was overreacting. On that third day, I called my mom and told her to call them and ask if I am seeing my doctor and when I can see him next. See I had told my mom the truth that I saw him once for five min and that they said I only can see him at 10 pm (which I never did). They told my mom that I seen him every day and I’d see him later that day at 5. THATS when my mom knew shit was fucked up. So she complained some more and FINALLY the doctor saw me that night and told me I could be released the next day. I’m leaving out a lot of details because it’s so much, but I actually have PTSD from the experience and that is not an exaggeration. I felt so fucking trapped it was terrifying and the whole experience made me MORE depressed and anxious and terrified and hopeless. after that was when I knew I couldn’t be in school. THE REASON i am finally saying this is because the 18 year old boy got in touch with me and we have been talking. We read reviews about the place and apparently hundreds of other people have experienced what we did and a lot of cases are even worse. The place has 2 stars on yelp ( I gave it 1 only bc of their cornbread) and the LA times has written two articles on them (see pic for a quote). SSOOO my point of all of this is I have been struggling for a while and have been so terrified to ask for help because of the stigma around mental illness. Finally I asked for help, and the fucking place I went to also KNEW NOTHING about mental illness. They treated us like we weren’t human and striped us of everything we had. Yes, there were people there that are actually insane and the place was probably good for them idk. But a majority of the people were drug addicts who said they are going to use drugs right when they leave and the doctors didn’t care. Homeless people who lied just so they could have a place to stay and meds. And then very few people like me who are genuinely looking for help. ITS SO TOUGH, because now if me or any of the other people who were there with me are going through a tough time, we most likely will not seek the help we need because of the horrible experience we had. Please if you are struggling with mental illness, do your research before you go anywhere and really talk to and reach out to other people you know who have dealt with or are dealing with the same issues. The people who worked at that place had no idea how we felt. They constantly complained about their long shifts and how far Starbucks was, while I’m falling apart. Sorry this is literally so much but after reading this horrible article I needed to speak out.

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