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thejudgingtrash · 4 years

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Now hold up I would personally love to hear a full rant on this supposed adaptation I have never heard of until now. Like, legitimately, I wanna know what you have to say about this cause you seem to be one of the most valid PJO blogs

Uhhh what??? Me one of the most valid PJO blogs??? What kinda crack have you been smoking WHAT afahsgjskdh.

But still thank you 😊🥺🙈

Alright, you wanted a rant. You got a rant. Fuck the positives let’s just straight up jump into my aggression.

WARNING: Massive rant with a lot of swear words. If you can’t handle the heat, feel free to ignore this. I personally haven’t worked in Hollyweird, but I had some behind the scenes stuff here in Europe going on for a short period and also the trusty words of my college professors. So here will be a lot of prediction and speculation involved. Yes, I know that I’m a huge hypocrite for voicing my opinions based on stuff that hasn’t been pushed through in months and that I could be easily proven wrong in a few weeks/months. Still thank you should you actually take the time to read through this tomfuckery.

If things are wrong, please DO correct me!

Links to further reads will be included partially.

TL;DR: Keep your hopes to a low, stop harassing people online and mAnAgE yOuR eXpEcTaTiOnS!!111!!

Okay. First things first:

DISNEY

DOESN’T

GIVE

SINGLE

FUCK

ABOUT

YOU

Disney is a fucking multi-billion dollar corporation with many, many, many studios, stations, brands and franchises worldwide. The Percy Jackson franchise is a dime in a dozen. Disney doesn’t give a single fuck about the PJO fandom in general.

Disney doesn’t give a fuck about you 20-something year old with your 9 year old blog discussing which toilet paper brand Percy uses. And Disney also doesn’t give a fuck about you 16 year old, writing the worst fucking Solangelo fanfic I’ve read so far on this hellsite. Like goddamn.

Trust me, they know you are interested. They know they got you hooked. They see the numbers, they see the like/reblog ratio, they see the Twitter engagement. They see you with #disneyadaptpercyjackson. They see the petitions, they see how excited you were for the musical. You don’t get to be a gigantic conglomerate like Disney with playing stupid.

Also to you fuckfarts saying oH nO I wOn’T wAtCh It I dOn’T cArE aBoUt NeW sTuFf. Congrats dipshit. You are STILL alerting followers and people about what’s happening and creating more buzz, giving more awareness and adding to the transaction costs. You really cheated the system, you little edgelord. Again:

You are nothing but a number. You are a fucking walking dollar bill. You are a consumer waiting for a new shiny product to fill the void in your life for 45 minutes weekly or by two hours at some point.

The PJO movies 1. & 2 happened for a reason. Because Fox saw a popular book series á la Harry Potter, Twilight (and The Hunger Games) and wanted a piece of that action. They wanted your fucking money. Them entirely fucking up and ignoring Riordan’s advice is on them of course. But still. The movies happened. (And also saw people saying they were flops. Reception wise: hell yes. They are awful adaptations (not per se awful movies, there’s a difference). But money wise?? They made together over 245 million dollars in profit. Of course, that isn’t today’s Marvel level but it’s still fairly decent. Also don’t forget that the second movie still got greenlit. Interest was still there despite part one. You disliking something doesn’t turn it into a flop)).

Again, Disney doesn’t care about you. THIS is what Disney cares about:

1. MONEY

2. PROFIT

3. ENGAGEMENT

4. TOTAL GROSS

5. CONVERSION RATES

11. …. “Artistry“

So in terms of money, we gotta speak about the on-going woke culture. You know, lgbtqia+ stuff, poc representation and all the good shit we want and need in our life, right?

Well, I got bad news for ya. Disney being money hungry has its massive downsides. Because where is the money? In the east. Well and what happens if we include the woke stuff? Possible censorships (even retroactively! You know Gravity Falls went through that), bans, etc.

So all of you talking about representation and artistic vision and being bold and brave and blablabla… Throw that into the fucking trash. We can probably be glad if we get Grover back as the token black kid and a few other minorities sprinkled here and there. Open gay Nico? Doubt it. Your afro-latino Percy head canon? Definitely keep that but unlikely to be realized. And also, if you think that Annabeth wouldn’t get turned into the blandest whitest “I dOn’T nEeD nO mAn“ radfem, I got some bad news for ya…

The likelihood of everything being dumbed down, toned down with the exception of a few adult jokes or being even partially censored (depending on certain regions) is very, very high.

Also what makes you think we’re even getting close to the Heroes of Olympus and Trials of Apollo saga? I doubt you will see The Seven for a long time unless Riordan really says fuck it and throws his final ace card into Disney’s filthy greedy mouth.

So if Disney doesn’t have the fandom’s interest at heart, what are they interested in? Well… MONEY. Also NEW engagement. They know your funky ass is going to tune in. They know people will pirate the shit (Me waving like a maniac), they all KNOW that. Again, they aren’t stupid.

So: MORE engagement. MORE money. How do we get even more engagement? By luring new people into the fandom. Who is most likely going to get lured into a family friendly show/movie series because let’s not forget that we’re talking about Disney+? The targeted audience of the books. Who is the targeted audience of the books? MIDDLE SCHOOLERS. 11 to 14 year olds. Disney wants those kids’ (well their parents’ hard earned) money. They want to sell products, in that case books + Disney Plus subscriptions + possible merch. There you also have the likely future rating for the fucking show. Sorry to disappoint everyone that was hoping for gritty Game of Thrones filled with 12 year olds (like seriously wtf?).

Now that that’s settled, let’s talk about the outlook on the show/movie and Riordan’s influence that you people clearly overestimate.

How much power or say does Rick Riordan actually have?

ZERO. ABSOLUTELY NONE.

He’s in the worst fucking lose-lose-situation you could imagine.

Disney owns the books and Fox owns the movie rights. Wait. Fox got bought. By whom you ask? DISNEY, what a coincidence! In Rick Riordan’s own words:

Disney has him by his fucking balls and could crush them at any minute. And if you think, that Disney is letting go of that sweet sweet intellectual property you are fucking mistaken. Riordan isn’t a J.K. Rowling who OWNS the Wizarding World. You have no idea what Disney are capable of with massive lobbying that goes so far to influence copyright laws in the States (LINK)

So you can stop harassing him about a fucking Netflix adaptation as well! Or petitions that do nothing but annoy people.

These negotiations take up YEARS to get the simplest stuff done. No need to shit your pants whenever Riordan’s tweeting stuff.

Still: would Disney be fucking mad to do this without him? Absolutely!

Should Disney involve him to prevent a PJO movie 2.0 scenario?

Yes, they definitely should!

But CAN Disney do this without him?

OF COURSE THEY CAN! THEY OWN EVERYTHING.

In Riordan’s own words:

Read carefully what he has written. He doesn’t say he’s going to halter productions, he’s saying HE WON’T BE A PART OF IT. This also makes me curious about WHO approached WHO in the first place (my guess Disney tried to make some amendments because Fox ain’t shit and trying to alienate the author again would be a goddamn stupid move). Disney has the fucking film rights. Of course they can pump out shit without involving him. They could pull a Fantastic Four (the awful 2015 version) just to keep the rights and for the fuck of it.

There are the following possibilities with Riordan’s involvement:

1. Riordan as a producer: Dude’s gotta be loaded. We know that. But backing the production costs many, many, many millions and I don’t know if he’s THAT loaded. Also film producing isn’t his forte.

2. Riordan as a screenplay writer: Now we’re getting closer to something. Yes, many productions these days have authors directly involved which is great! But also can go the other way around (J.K. Rowling and her Grindelwald fiasco. Author’s do NEED to learn when to stop intermeddling with their franchises, just saying) Book writing and screenplay writing are two very DIFFERENT disciplines. You don’t have the liberties of book writing when it comes to film. The screenplay is the guide for the entire production, the visuals, the set design, the whole atmosphere of the product, the very first thing that needs to be done so that directors, designers and lastly the casted actors know what they have to do. Everything has to come to a point in a very short time and there are many, many, many versions of a screenplay before a final raw draft gets handed out. If that isn’t in Riordan’s interest (which I can completely understand) then that’s simply not happening

3. Riordan as a guide: Directors, screenplay writers, etc. sit down with Riordan on a regular basis to show him the written screenplay, which actors they have in mind, the whole vision and he has a mini veto right.

If you ask me, a mix of scenario 2 and 3 is the most likely to be the most successful. That means, that Riordan needs to have a good faithful team, that sticks closely to the source material. That isn’t guaranteed! Again: look at the PJO movies. But of course, we don’t know the internals of these meetings.

So… now the final part. The whole fucking “Animation vs. Live action“ debate. Well, both sides have their pro’s and con’s. And both sides are filled with a bunch of fucking morons. I won’t try to get you to either side.

But to those that want are begging for a live action version with age-appropriate actors I have the following to say:

FUCK

YOU

PARTICULAR!

WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU WANT CHILDREN TO GO THROUGH THE HELL THAT IS DISNEY AND THE SHADY SHIT GOING ON THERE SO THAT YOU CAN BE ENTERTAINED FOR SOME MERE MINUTES?!

Oh my god…. You people REALLY really want a fourth wave Me Too movement in 15-20 years. Not every Hollyweird kid has a helicopter parent hovering around them on set and many do get abused/robbed by their parents. And the people involved in the production! Of course, animation has still a chance of this happening but the risk is somewhat lower when it just comes to voice acting.

Tbh, I actually wouldn’t mind an aged-up cast again just to prevent this as best as possible. Unfortunately, child actors will always be needed.

I have nothing much to add to this, I’ll just drop a link to an old small post from me about that right here (LINK)

Personally I lean more towards animation but in the big picture I won’t care. (Also the whole animation is for kids and dumbs down the whole narrative for PJO is fucking stupid, boo boo the fool. You being in your late teens/twenties and grown out of the targeted audience is the cause of nature. Animation can be mature or would you show Attack on Titan or South Park to your 8 year old cousin?)

I’ll be just tuning in to see if this is as messy as I’d expect it to be or to be pleasantly surprised.

Also again: this process is a long one. It’s going to be exhausting, depressing, demanding, pushing.

From the meetings now that will take a very long time, to a screenplay, which can take YEARS in finalizing, to hiring staff, location hunting and set design (should they go the live action route), to casting, to costume design, to rehearsing/production, to filming, to dispersing, to editing, to fx, to finishing, to marketing, to publishing, NOTHING IS SET IN STONE! This is a very, very, very, wanky process despite contracts and everything on paper. Let’s not forget, Disney can afford some good lawyers.

And even if everything goes as smoothly as possible. Higher up people could see the final edit of everything with editors having scenes close to the books in an a/b/c/d cut and some producer says NO! I want an c/a/b/d version that again fucks up the dynamics of the books. Or something terrible: everything is shot and done and THEN it get’s postponed. Or even fucking worse: SHELVED to be NEVER RELEASED. Aka Henry Selick’s career after Coraline (Coraline from 2009 is STILL his latest release because of his fucked up Disney contract and them cancelling his shit). Millions of dollars wasted and we won’t get to see ANYTHING. This is all very possible and happens constantly in the film business AND at Disney. This is nothing new.

And there’s nothing we can do about it. No one cares about Riordan, no one cares about the books, no one cares about the fandom.

DISNEY holds the cards. DISNEY gets to decide. Neither Riordan, nor you nor me hold ANY power in this.

So kids… what have we learned today? In conclusion:

Keep your hopes to a low, stop harassing people online and mAnAgE yOuR eXpEcTaTiOnS!!111!!

That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.

WHEW.

#percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson movie #percy jackson #percy jackson adaptation #disney #disney adapt percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #nico di angelo #rick riordan #riordanverse #my rants

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aplaceforthesoul · 4 years

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Anonymous submitted:

Advice

Hi. I really need some advice. I’m in my first year of uni and obviously it’s all online now. Each week in our zoom classes we get put into random ‘breakout rooms’ and meet a bunch of people. Obviously there isn’t much time to socially interact because we have assigned work to do. However, there have been a number of instances where I’ve met people who seem somewhat nice and people I’d potentially want to be friends with. Despite that, I don’t really know how to really initiate a friendship with them in a non weird, non awkward way. The first point of contact would be email but I have no clue what to say (well I did draft something out but I’m afraid they’ll be so weirded out thinking like we only talked for a few minutes and now she’s emailing me wanting to talk more and be friends, what a complete weirdo, how desperate can someone be etc). Also once we email and then text or whatever, it’s really hard to develop let alone maintain a friendship that is solely online. What would we talk about? How often is considered normal to text?

To give you some context (since it may come across like I am a socially inept idiot), I have never actually had true friends in my life. I’ve gone above and beyond for people and tried so hard to be the best friend anyone could want and never got anything in return, putting in all the effort and being there and no one giving a fuck about me in the end. Everyone takes friendships for granted and I would kill to experience one true friendship. Also in this quarantine where people are constantly moaning about how it’s so awful to be away from their friends does my head in, I would give anything to have people like that in my life. Anyway I try to distract myself but sometimes when I sit idly or just lie awake with my thoughts at night, I realise how truly alone I am and feel so fucking empty inside. It’s just me and my parents. I don’t have any siblings and the family I actually care about are all across the world. So I suppose this is question is in parts.

I do want to know how exactly to start a friendship with people I’ve met through random allocation into groups online in a completely natural, confident manner, like a step by step manual because sometimes I’m not even sure I remember how to make friends anymore because it’s been so long. Like what exactly to write in an email and how to keep communication going via text, how to actually start a friendship that is strictly online and how to then suggest to meet up once this is over all like a normal person. I have a tendency to be clingy at the start which people never understand is because I’ve never had a friend so at the start it’s something so exciting and dear to me and I feel so out of the loop, I don’t know how often to text someone to have a healthy friendship but that doesn’t appear needy and annoying.

Also, there is one more thing. I’ve gone to all girls schools my whole life and as a result have been completely isolated from guys. In all honesty, even if I have had like zero contact with a person in the male species, I can already tell as time goes on and I finally make friends, I will end up with more guy friends. But the thing is, I have absolutely no clue how to talk to guys (in a completely platonic way mind you), and as I’ve said, I am not particularly well versed in the social nuances being void of friendships so I don’t know whether emailing a guy a similar message about wanting to talk more and then meet up once this whole pandemic is over would suggest things I obviously don’t mean. Like I don’t want any guy to get the wrong impression that me contacting them is anything other than a friendship. I feel like nowadays the slightest thing can be misconstrued and I don’t want any guy to get weirded out because they misinterpret me wanting to be friends as something it’s not. But I also just generally feel so alone and I don’t deserve to. I always tried so hard to be a good friend to others and I got nothing in return from toxic people who never actually cared about me. Apologies for the rambling. Thank you if you made it to the end lol.

hi there :) about your online classes, zoom and wanting to become friends with some of the people in the classes? social media is where it’s at 😌

I find emails quite a formal way of introducing yourself to someone? 0: and unless it’s work / school related, not many people I know of use email much anyway! social media is a lot more relaxed and informal, it’s what everyone uses in some form or another so it makes it much easier to get replies from people and to start building a friendship. if you don’t have social media, would you consider making an account? instagram and facebook are two of the big ones when it comes to both public posts and private conversations, it’s easier to create new friendships if you’re both using the same platform.

I agree that it’s hard to maintain friendships that are solely online, but it doesn’t have to be that way. even if all of your university classes are now online due to coronavirus, that doesn’t mean that everything has to be there. when lockdown measures start to lift, you could maybe suggest to meet up and grab a coffee? or create a study group? there’s lots of ways of to keep friendships going in real life without always needing online support. you could talk about anything haha, the weather, what they got up to on the weekend?! ask lots of questions and get to know them better, don’t be afraid to share parts of your personal life too :) talking a few times a week would be best when starting off a new friendship -- too much contact and they might feel a little overwhelmed, not enough and suddenly there’s a bit too much distance and things feel weird.

it’s a bit hard for me to give a step-by-step manual, because most friendships occur organically and naturally? also, everyone’s different! there’s no one set rule or manual that you can follow and things will work every time, sometimes it’s a trial and error process. what I do know however, is that the more you practice something then the better you are at it and the more natural it feels. a few general tips: smile if you’re chatting to them on zoom / skype / video call, use emojis if appropriate, maybe throw in a nice compliment about something they’re wearing or how they’ve styled their hair? being nice to someone and making them feel good and confident about something never hurts :* this post here could be helpful to check out as well, give it a read and see what you think.

if you don’t want future guy friends to get the wrong impression about meeting up? just be honest and clear about what you want :) communicate the fact that you wanna be a friend, maybe drop hints of a “partner” to make it clear that you’re not interested in anything sexual etc. communication is key!! in any relationship, be it romantic or platonic or otherwise. treat guys as you would anyone else haha, they’re human just like you and me. say hi, smile and have open body language, ask questions, get to know them on a more personal level, share aspects of your life too, take it one day at a time. I hope this helps you lovely, all the best <3

- tash

#advice #submission #friends #making friends #social

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hatari-translations · 5 years

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Griðastaður - 2017 draft version

So, before there was award-winning play Griðastaður starring Jörundur Ragnarsson, there was an early draft read by Hákon Jóhannesson, better known as Hákon from Iceland Music News (presumably, he was studying acting at the Academy of the Arts at the same time as Matthías was studying playwriting). Because it’s fun, I’m going to compare this early version to the final product! It’s the same core idea and significant chunks are very similar, but there were also a lot of interesting changes made between this 2017 draft and the final version, overwhelmingly for the better in my opinion.

(Scroll down to the “Thoughts” section below the cut if you just want to hear the overall summary, as opposed to me very lengthily laying out all the noteworthy changes because wow there were more changes than I realized.)

What Changed

The first thing to note is that the early version starts with Lárus’s phone conversation with his mother. The entire opening, with Lárus preparing for a meeting, explaining his relationship with IKEA and how he came to IKEA this one particular morning when he woke up with a guilty conscience, just isn’t there, though a small part of it is implemented after the phone call. I expect in part it was expanded to make for a more substantial play, but the opening of the final version also contains some fun/interesting bits of setup or foreshadowing for later: Lárus ends up backtracking on telling the meeting attendees to turn off their mobile phones, saying they can keep them on if they’ve got kids or moms (turns out it’s because he missed the notifications when his mom was dying), he mentions the Securitas guy isn’t going to have a problem with them staying late, and the weird little tangent about the IKEA flags serves to set up the flag-bearer who rescues him at the end.

This also means that in the early draft, him having to tell his mom that he’s just in IKEA because it’s his sanctuary and he's not there to buy anything is how the audience actually learns he’s in IKEA.

After the phone call, he says “I often have nightmares. (That was my mom.)” He explains that there’s a void inside of him, which he tries to fill with chocolate or Netflix subscriptions, but that gives him this guilty conscience, which then calls for more chocolate or thoughtful status updates or “neat patterned socks” - or, as he’s been doing increasingly recently, carefully evaluating the selection available at Swedish megastore IKEA. He wakes up with a guilty conscience, and makes coffee according to the guilt that he’s feeling. Then he explains about heading to Garðabær, the eco-labeled house, and going to IKEA and spending whole days there, and then we go on to, more or less, the section that follows the phone conversation in the final version.

When recounting the things he’s going to leave behind, he mentions a facial soap that he bought and used and now misses, which I thought was kind of a fun little detail.

The deodorant story is rearranged a little in the final version; in the draft version he talks about how he doesn’t know Chinese and would never be able to say any of this to the Chinese guy before he actually imagines the man’s response. He says he can’t even tell his brother what he thinks of him, or talk to his mom; the brother’s gone in the final version (makes sense, since the brother is never mentioned again and has nothing to do with anything). When pleading with the Chinese man, he suggests the chemicals are produced in really toxic conditions like maybe where he works, not where his sister did.

At the end of the deodorant story, as he asks the Chinese man to help him understand, he moves straight from there to shouting about spiders, as if he’s imagining the spiders attacking while he’s trying to talk to the Chinese guy! I kind of like that, compared to the final version where these bits are separated and don’t feel connected, and Hákon doesn’t play it in this very deliberately fake voice, instead just coming off more like he got carried away with this imaginary scenario. The thing he sprays on the spiders is the Nike Xtreme Men Edition deodorant that the Chinese guy was using. Afterwards, he says this story, which he dreamt once, is only one of his many go-to stories.

The bit on B-products isn’t there, nor is the fake PowerPoint, but he still talks about discounts, quality of life, etc. When talking about how stuff pollutes, he includes property rights, “which aren’t going anywhere”.

In the draft version, the IKEA employee really does compliment Lárus on his contemplation on environmentalism, where in the final version Lárus merely imagines the employee tells him that. Lárus thanks the employee, says IKEA is his sanctuary and if there is any place where he can cry it’s in IKEA, and then the employee goes “You’ve been in the bathroom department since we opened.” In the final version Lárus sounds defensive and awkward about this, but here he just sounds like nothing is more natural. When the employee asks if Lárus is looking for anything, he says “Well, aren’t we all looking for something? Haven’t we all been in the bathroom department since it opened, ever since we were born?!” The employee goes “Yeah, sure, but are you looking for anything special?”, which prompts Lárus to realize he’s going to try to sell him something, at which point Lárus goes off on another rant about how they’re here in the Mecca of disposable crap and he’d be even worse than the Chinese guy from the story if he bought stuff - upon which the employee asks what all the disinfectant he’s bought was for (showing that yeah, he literally launched into that whole rant within earshot of the employee), and from there persuades him that if he could buy 34 bottles of disinfectant he might as well buy this Silverån mirror cabinet without significantly depleting the Earth’s resources, and it’s really convenient and easy to clean, and then Lárus asks if he can put his toothbrush in it, etc. I’ll just translate how that whole conversation plays out, because it’s got a pretty different feel to it:

“So could I store my toothbrush in it, for example?”

“Sure.”

“How many?”

“As many as you like.”

“And toothpaste? How many tubes of toothpaste?”

“As many as you like.”

“200 tubes of toothpaste?”

“Yeah, if you like.”

“How about deodorant, eco-labeled?”

“Eco-labeled? Sure.”

“What about chocolate and popcorn and olive oil?”

“Yup, whatever you like.”

“Essays and books? Das Kapital, for example?”

“I-I’ve actually got better cabinets for that.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, you can put anything in that one.”

“Medicine?”

“Yes, absolutely!”

“Mom?”

“...N-no?”

“My mom is chronically ill in the hospital.”

[The employee makes a tiny awkward grunt]

“Dental floss?”

“Sure, sure.”

“Mouthwash?”

“Yeah, yeah, uh, sorry about your mom.”

“Self-respect?”

“Huh?”

“Can this cabinet assure me that I’ll see her again?”

“Who? It’s just a cabinet!”

“Uh-huh. Disinfectant and band-aids? The contradiction inherent in my lifestyle and my fundamental beliefs?”

“Yeah, yeah, disinfectant, whatever, maybe not 34 bottles, that’s an excessive amount of disinfectant, and sorry about your mom.”

And then the employee says actually he needs to help other customers and he’ll write it down. All in all, this whole encounter is a lot more parodesque and weird, the employee is a more absurd, comical character, and Lárus is more condescending and actively hostile, where in the final version the employee feels very much like a real, ordinary person, and Lárus makes it a bit awkward by bringing up his mom but is a lot more sympathetic and keeps his annoyance at the employee to himself. I think this is a really solid change; the draft version is amusing but Lárus just comes off as kind of an annoying dick in it and it’s hard to come away from this actually caring about his relationship with his mother.

The following sequence, where he goes down to get the cabinet and finds they’re all gone and then his phone chimes with the text about his mom being dead, is very similar, although it’s been fleshed out a bit with some details in the final version.

When he’s been hiding in the warehouse for those six hours, he “feels something break - and it’s not the Billy shelves”. Definitely a good call losing that joke; in the final thing he totally pulls off this sequence as a serious moment where you actually feel sorry for him, but in the draft this keeps it fairly ridiculous.

The security guard scene is very similar, but in the middle of it he throws in a “This is all imaginary, come on.” Good call losing that too! This little emotional breakdown into twisted violent power fantasy is my favorite part of the play, and he ought to be far too worked up here to have the self-awareness to remind the audience this isn’t really happening. Hákon punches the script as he beats the guard half to death, though, which is amusing.

When he goes back to the cafeteria and there’s no hot food, he specifically states that he imagines they’ve thrown it all away, rather than sounding like he genuinely assumes this is the case. Again, I think the final version works better; he’s still in this supremely agitated emotional state, and it’s far better conveyed if he sounds like he really believes what he’s saying, even if he is telling this story at a later point. He also doesn’t take the bathroom break where he starts to calm down and catch his breath; he just immediately notices the salads and heads on up to his favorite staged bathroom. When he says “I’ve always dreamed about doing this”, he adds, “staying the whole night at IKEA.”

In the draft version, the rant to his mom about how everyone dies keeps noting, both at the start and throughout the first half of it, that he didn’t actually literally say this to her. I think the final version, where he says that whole rant and only then admits he didn’t actually say it, works better, especially since it’s set up by the previous encounter with the employee where he does the same thing. He also doesn’t say “I love you” at the end, which in the final version really lends that extra punch to it when he follows it with “...No, I didn’t say that to her.”

The whole bit with him imagining another meeting with the Chinese guy, his sister the marine biologist and the turtle and them coming to a mutual understanding, isn’t there in the draft; the Chinese guy doesn’t come back at all, much less parallel Lárus’s sense of loss the way he does in the final version. We just pretty much go straight from the everyone dies rant to Guðrún arriving, and she’s just a random employee rather than the person who raises the flags (I don’t think the flag introduction in the final version is entirely elegant, but the presence of that setup is nice narratively).

The part with them visiting his mother’s grave and the exchange ending with “Mortality is a staged bathroom” is more or less the same, but again, we don’t get the “No, she didn’t actually say that”, or the entire following paragraph talking about all the kinds of people at IKEA who are going to die.

Then the final bit about how Guðrún led him down the escalator is there but a bit shorter, and then Lárus proudly presents the first eco-labeled cabinet at IKEA. We don’t get the bit about how none of this makes sense because there aren’t two escalators facing each other at the IKEA in Garðabær. I am convinced this is because somebody who frequents IKEA watched the workshop performance, came to Matthías and pointed out that it didn’t make sense, and he just brazenly decided to have Lárus address the complaint in the play instead of ditching the escalator scene. Amazing.

Thoughts

Overall, the tone of the play and the character of Lárus comes across differently in the draft version. It’s more of a straight dark comedy, and accordingly, Lárus is basically an unsympathetic comedy protagonist archetype. Hákon really plays him that way, too, primarily angry and indignant and pretentious.

In between the two versions, Matthías (or one of his instructors, or someone else who commented) realized that Lárus could actually work as a sympathetic character: he’s pretty eccentric and obsessed with IKEA, sure, but he’s also just lonely and repressed and goofily imaginative and overwhelmed by everything and worried about his sick mom, and by fleshing things out and editing various details and just playing him differently, we could genuinely feel for him when he learns his mom is dead and breaks down and crawls into the shelves at IKEA - which makes for a way better play than if we just can’t stand him. Jörundur plays him as awkward, nervous, constantly second-guessing himself, bad at expressing any of the things he’s thinking, and for all his eccentricities you just care about him and can follow his emotional journey, or at least the most important section of it.

The final version also just ties various things together better, bringing things from earlier back later and so on. I don’t think it’s 100% successful at being a satisfying narrative, but it’s a lot more so than the draft version, which is largely just an amusing ramble describing events that don’t seem to be in much of any coherent relationship with one another.

All in all, it really shows that Matthías spent a lot of time and care improving the play since the draft, which I, possibly the biggest nerd about revisions and adaptations that I know, think is pretty cool.

#griðastaður #matthías tryggvi haraldsson #translation #I WROTE A WAY LONGER POST ON THIS THAN I MEANT TO #I am sorry #I don't know who I'm apologizing to but somebody needs an apology for this

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dianaagron · 5 years

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untitled unfinished doctors au

fandom: digimon pairing: mimi/taichi word count: 5k of glorious basically unrevised drafts summary: digimonless au where everyone is a doctor and they’re in their 30s cause that’s fun warnings: it has sex in it because apparently other than finishing stuff i’m also unable to not write mature bits in them additional: but it’s been sitting in my computer for years and it’s so long so i might as well share what i have cause at least this way i won’t feel like i completely wasted 5k of writing you know

hello friends i’m alive and sad so i thought why not make everyone else sad as well with this piece i started writing like three summers ago and never finished because i’m unable to write a chaptered story and my mind has an attention span of 12 days after which my creativity just goes blank. happy new year tho!

Looking out of the only window in the small room she shares with one other fellow neurosurgeon of the National Center for Global Health and Medicine Hospital, Tachikawa Mimi sees a clear blue sky painted with just enough fluffy clouds to make her feel lighter after pulling her third all nighter of the week.

The desk calendar is still telling her that it’s July, and if it wasn’t for her mobile phone lighting up on its own and showing her the date, she would’ve still believed that sunny, summer day belonged to the previous month. As it turns out, it wasn’t just her phone coming to life on its own, but as distracted as she was (between the lack of sleep and the clouds) she hadn’t noticed someone was calling her.

“Is there an emergency?” She asks, a little worried, phone propped between her ear and her left shoulder to be able to get the white coat she’d left resting on the small couch on the opposite side of the room.

“No, I was just checking if you were still here.” The deep voice coming from her phone explains. She grabs the coat, and fiddles with it until she finds the badge (she almost curses when she spots it in between the two cushions of the couch).

“Yeah, I’m in the office.” She replies, with her half-whiny tone she’s sure he’s grown accustomed to by now.

“I can see that.”

Mimi’s hand flies to her chest, the sudden noise of his voice behind her startling her and making her drop her phone to the floor. This time she curses out loud, not bothering to turn to him until she checks that the phone is still intact (thank god her mother sent her that pink rubber case last month); when she does, he’s scratching the back of his head, waiting for her acknowledgement.

“Sorry.” He tries, an apologetic smile masking what she knows is complete, utter fear of an outburst. It’s funny, because she is the fellow, and not him. She thinks she might as well just spare him for today, so she turns around, making her long hair flow in the air and meeting his eyes with a bright smile, surprising him.

“Did you know it’s August?” She absentmindedly asks him while wearing the white coat at last.

“How long has it been since you last slept in your bed?” His tone is worried, but she’s already walked past him and out of the door of the studio, and she doesn’t look back to check how his dark brows are furrowed and his arms crossed against his chest. She knows all that, and she also knows he’s going to follow her out on the corridor and down on the first floor, up until they reach the cafeteria.

“I can tell the head supervisor a word, you know.” He doesn’t ask, and she only mumbles a “mmh” in response.

Grabbing two trays from the stack, she keeps one for herself and shoves - a little too hard, and on purpose - the other to him.

“You should really get something other than coffee.” He tries again and this time as they wait for the order she has already placed. She turns around to face him, honey irises staring into a pair of grey ones, completely blank.

“Jyou,” she starts, voice so promising that his brows shoot up in amazement, “don’t dad me.”

Jyou’s facial expression falls in what Mimi has taken a habit of calling the ‘staring into the void mode’, which is one of the three common reactions she gets when they talk (she keeps track).

“Then you might as well just refer to me as Doctor Kido if you don’t want me to be considerate of you.”

He’s pouting, and she giggles. That’s the Jyou she knows, the Jyou she’s known for more than half of her life. Mimi grabs the coffee, now waiting for her on the counter, and the chamomile, placing both of them on her own tray and moving fast to the self service area with sugar and spices. Soy milk, two shakes of sugar and many of cinnamon after, Mimi meets her attending supervisor at the table on the far left, the one near the window. It’s their favorite, and she can’t remember ever having sat on another table.

“You know,” she starts, mixing her coffee before closing the cup with the plastic lid, “you should step up your game a little. That chamomile isn’t going to bring the chicks to your yard.”

He frowns, and she stares at him until he feels the urge to fix his glasses on the crook of his nose. That’s how she knows she’s won, again.

“Who even puts cinnamon in their coffee?” He pouts, again, and even if he didn’t intend the retort to come out as a question she answers him nonetheless, which she knows is a way to annoy him and make him wish he had just kept his mouth shut, for once.

“It’s perfectly normal, you know? You wouldn’t have the option of getting coffee with cinnamon syrup if people didn’t like it, and what can you do if the cafeteria of the place where you’re employed doesn’t include flavors? You add powdered cinnamon, that’s what you do.” Mimi takes a sip of her drink, savoring it with her eyes closed even after she puts the cup down on the table again. When she opens her eyes, Jyou is holding his cheeks with his hands, stretching the skin of his face downwards in the Jyou Kido certified basic reaction number two: The Scream, a painting by Norwegian expressionist Edvard Munch (yes, art was her favorite subject back in the day, that decade and a half ago, more or less). “Besides, you’re glad you have me as your fellow. The whole hospital knows I’m the prettiest one.”

Jyou breathes out loudly, and then grimaces before gulping down his chamomile as if he was gulping down his sorrows.

Jyou’s sitting on the metal bench just a couple of feet away from Mimi’s open locker where she’s hanging the white coat, now replaced by the blue scrubs. She walks to him, sitting next to him and mimicking his hand movements, thoroughly massaging the insides of her palms, not bothering to turn to him.

“Sora asked me if we want to get some drinks later. They’re meeting at The Island at eleven.”

“Who’s them?” Mimi wonders out loud, curious. The three of them - herself, Jyou and Sora, who had been one of Jyou’s best friend since med school - usually tried to meet at least once a week at the cocktail bar not far from NCGM, a cute place popular among the doctors of their hospital. Yes, there had been times when other friends tagged along, but that “they” wasn’t so easy to figure out, given the number of mutual colleagues the three of them shared.

Jyou shrugs, unable to give her an actual answer.

“I have no idea. It’ll probably be just us and her colleague in cardio - you know, that one whom you said looked like a lizard. She said you can tell Koushiro and Miyako about it, if you want.”

Typical Sora, Mimi thinks, always trying to look out for others. She makes the mental note of sending a text in the group chat she shares with her ex classmates, and then she stands up, holding out a hand for Jyou to grab, helping him to sit up and walk to the operating room.

As it turns out, it wasn’t the lizard colleague Sora brought to the little gathering, but a much younger guy none of them had ever met. The young man, messy blonde hair half hidden by a baseball cap worn backwards, is sitting next to Sora, laughing fondly when Mimi and Jyou, with Miyako and Koushiro, sit down at the table they had reserved.

“You’ve made it!” Is Sora’s delighted comment as Mimi plops down on the chair across from her, feeling the weight of the accumulated tiredness of a week of all-nighters and naps on the uncomfortable couch of her studio finally down on her shoulders. She lets her head rest on the wooden table, arms left hanging down and swinging.

“I’m exhausted.” She lets out as her last dying breath.

Miyako hops down on the spot to her left, stretching her arm to reach Mimi’s hair, moving a wavy lock away from the eyes of her friend to check if she had fallen asleep as soon as she’d hit the wooden surface.

“Hi exhausted -” the voice belonging to the young man speaks up, and the beginning of the joke is all it takes for Mimi to come to life again, raise her head as well as her hand, surfacing from behind the table, to shoot a dangerous look to the newcomer and try to stop him before he can say “ - I’m Takeru.”

Takeru smiles, his eyes curving into two cute half moons, and Mimi’s head falls back to the table with a loud noise.

“Damn.” Miyako comments, arms crossing over her chest and eyes checking out Takeru, looking clueless there right next to Sora. “I didn’t think anyone else under their forties would ever dare to pull a dad joke.” She grabs one of the open beer bottles in the center of the table and lifts it up in Takeru’s direction. “Impressing. I’ve only ever seen Taichi look cool with a dad joke up until now.”

The younger one raises his brows, visibly pleased by the unexpected compliment coming from Miyako. “Why, thank you.” He replies, lifting his own glass to exchange the unspoken toast between the two of them.

“Yagami tells dad jokes?” Jyou asks, a little incredulous. Miyako nods while still sipping down her beer.

“Mmmh. Pretty often. Turns out the patients like it. Makes him look goofy.”

Mimi opens an eye, sneaking a look at her friend explaining. “Who’s Yagami?” She asks weakly, but curious nonetheless, still half lost in the conversation. She tries to sit up, feeling her head hurt as soon as she comes to an almost standing position with her back, so much she has to hold her forehead with her hand to put some pressure on it and relieve the momentary pain.

“Yagami from Trauma and Emergency.” It’s Jyou who replies her, but Miyako who specifies. “I’m his fellow.”

“Aaaah.” Mimi finally understands, turning to face Sora right across the table. “The hot one.”

Sora nods, a finger pointing in her direction in a sign of understanding. They had seen him in the cafeteria a couple of times, or walking through the corridors to get to the Trauma and Emergency Center, and she remembers Mimi’s open remarks about the width of his biceps.

“Is he single?” Mimi asks, now turning to Miyako. On the other side of the purple haired girl, Koushiro shakes his head incredulous. “Really.”

Mimi shoots him a look, showing him a grimace. “Yes, really.”

MIyako shrugs, holding out her hands on each side of her as to push back her two friends.

“How would I know? I’m his fellow, not his trustee.”

Mimi nudges her waist, glancing maliciously at her. “You call him Taichi.”

Miyako scoots left, getting out of Mimi’s reach only to find Koushiro, on that side, already showing her a mischievous grin that mirrors the one of his best friend, and he’s ready to attack. “Does Taichi let all the fellows call him that?” And again, Mimi, “Does Taichi like it when you call him that?” And Miyako has to slam down her now empty beer bottle on the table, so hard that Jyou is already halfway through the panicking mode as he foresees the bottle being broken into hundreds of tiny little pieces of glass, scattered everywhere in the bar, resulting in a lifelong ban from The Island impending on them. And Jyou doesn’t want that.

The glass of the bottle doesn’t crack, but the noise is loud enough to make the group - and the entire place - go silent for a couple of slow, embarrassing seconds. Sora mutters an “Incredibly sorry”, or something along those lines, and it’s Miyako the first one to break the ice again, wanting to have the last word.

“I’m his fellow.” She starts, talking fast with her lips drawn into a thin line, eyes moving quickly from Mimi on her right to Koushiro on her left to not give them the opportunity to stop her once more. “I’m well past the crush stage, believe me, after you see his eating habits during break everyone would be past it.” Miyako stares in front of her lost in her thoughts, before turning one last time to Mimi, and looking a great deal more calm, to add: “Besides, he’s more of your type.”

Mimi just stares at her.

“My type?” She asks, unsure.

It’s Koushiro the one to answer her, butting in the conversation he was not long before a part of. “You know, buff.”

“Hunky.” Sora continues.

“Remember the body builder?” Jyou adds turning from Sora to Miyako and Koushiro. Koushiro points at him, his eyes going wide. Then, he oppresses a snort only because of the look Mimi flashes him.

“How do you all even know my type?” Mimi demands, an octave higher. Miyako shrugs back, clearly not impressed by how offended her friend is pretending to be.

“We all know each other’s type. It’s, like, basic knowledge. Jyou’s type is the down-to-earth woman that can take care of him (here, Jyou grimaces, turning away the bottle he’s holding in a defeated manner), Sora wants the family oriented and -”

Miyako’s explanation is cut short by Takeru, who’s now fixing the hair free from his cap, turning to Sora as fast as a lightning bolt and putting a hand on her shoulder, shaking her lightly to turn her attention to him.

“You like family oriented guys?” He asks her directly.

Sora starts with a “Well…”, but it’s Mimi who replies, confirming Miyako’s statement. “She does.”

Takeru’s eyes widen together with his smile, and the rest of the table is left wondering how exactly can Sora’s taste in men bring so much joy to a guy much younger than her as Takeru.

“Do you want me to introduce you to my brother? I’ve been trying to hook him up with someone for years but he just doesn’t want to hear it.”

Takeru’s smile is expectant, and Sora has to blink a couple of times before coming to the conclusion that one of the residents in cardiology that she’s in charge of just offered her a possible date. But Mimi is faster than her again, and before Sora can remember how to make her vocal cords work again, she’s already asking the important question to Takeru.

“Who’s your brother? Do you have a picture of him?”

Takeru nods, taking out his phone from the pocket of the jeans he’s wearing.

“Do you know Doctor Ishida? He works at the hospital as well.” He lets out casually while unlocking the phone.

Sora’s eyes widen as she turns to Mimi, and at the same time Miyako’s hand flies to Mimi’s shoulder, shaking her with force. The reply to Takeru’s answer comes in unison from the three women, taking the clueless resident by surprise.

“The god?”

Takeru looks up from his phone, startled.

“Doctor Ishida from oncology?” Jyou comes to their aid, and Takeru nods. Then Koushiro wonders: “Ishida is family oriented? I’d never tell.”

“Is that what he goes by now?” He chuckles. “I know, he gives off that vampire vibe sometimes. But he’s actually nice.”

“One of the few associates with some logic.” Jyou comments.

“So,” Takeru turns to Sora again, showing her the lit screen of his phone, “do you want his number?”

Nightshifts can be quite endearing, if you ask her. Sure, she’d rather be home snuggling her favorite pillow as she lies down on her own, oh-so-comfortable bed (or, as a variation, as she is being laid down on her own, oh-so-comfortable bed), but night duty is not too terrible when the hospital offers those Oscar-worthy performances.

Like this couple who’s yelling at each other as they wait in the hall, the man laying on the stretcher and the woman beside him hitting him repeatedly with her purse, and the first aid doctors pleading her to stop just as many times as she releases her frustration at - as Mimi had guessed he was - her husband. On the other side of the man, another woman is standing, her own hands stroking her arms crossed over the chest; everything about her screams “uncomfortable”, and the sight does nothing but fuel the entertainment of the row of employees behind the front acceptation desk.

“What’s going on?”

A male doctor approaches the bunch, but Mimi doesn’t turn to check who it is, afraid she’ll miss a turn of events from the show unfolding before her eyes. She does answer him nonetheless, though, as everybody else seems too interested in what’s happening to reply.

“Are you asking for the medical report or the facts?”

“Whatever’s more fun.” Replies the doctor. Mimi grins, and she notices with the corner of her eyes the secretary who had been standing next to her making space for the doctor, and the latter bending his back and resting his elbows on the desk to enjoy the show more comfortably.

“Dude broke his weenie during an encounter with his girlfriend. They had to call his wife. He’ll probably need two operations if she keeps hitting him like that.” Mimi explains, trying to stay cool as she reveals what the party had gathered up until then.

“Her bag seems heavy.” A resident behind her adds, and she thoughtfully nods.

“Ouch. That’s harsh.” The doctor comments.

“I mean, it’s understandable.” Mimi points out, her shoulders raising and then dropping again. She feels the man beside her turn his head to her, but she keeps her gaze fixed on the wife who’s now yelling something along the lines of “I would too if I were twenty! It’s you who should’ve kept it in your pants!”.

“Been cheated on?” He asks Mimi.

“I was the other woman.” She admits easily, without putting too much weight on it.

“Impressive.” He replies. When Mimi turns her head to the right where he’s placed next to her, her eyebrows raise in pleasant surprise.

There are three things she notices, in the following order. First, his face is relaxed, and he’s offering a smile different from those ones she’s used to get whenever the news of her having been the lover of a taken man slips out (God, if she’s so over those). Second, he’s closer to her than she’d expected; he’s still laying his forearms on the surface of the desk, hands collected, but his head is tilted to her side not far from her, and Mimi quickly wonders about how tall he can be, if even bent down he’s still at her eye level. Third, and most importantly, she realizes who exactly he is.

“Wanna go get coffee?”

And just like that, at 1:05 am of a heated August night Taichi Yagami is offering a way out of her night shift, and in all honesty Mimi is not really sure she can say yes, but that doesn’t stop her from turning around and leading the way to the cafeteria on the other side of the building (when she gets home, in the morning, she tells herself that everyone was gathered at the front desk anyway, so it wasn’t like they’d notice her missing).

As it turns out, Yagami Taichi of the Trauma and Emergency Center ("aspiring head of the department") had been an associate at NCGM for a couple of years already, though he was not much older than Mimi, with only a two years difference. Mimi had lightly bowed when he had properly introduced himself, reminding herself that he was an actual surgeon, and she was still a fellow, and as unused to good custom as she was, the image of Jyou scolding her had been too clear in her mind to skip formalities. But then Doctor Yagami had waved his hand so hurriedly to stop her from bending further that she had to go for the good, old, western way, offering her hand and waiting for him to squeeze it.

"I have a feeling we're a little past the formal stage, with you telling me about your past choices and all that." His comment had earned an earnest chuckle from her, and he had payed it back with a smirk of his own before adding an "I'm not judging" as he had turned to get the two coffees they had ordered.

"Didn't think you would." She had answered.

Mimi had observed him ask for their drinks in a charming way, different from how she'd seen other men flirt with employees in bars. He had been offering a bright smile with his requests, and it felt like his voice was genuinely interested when he had asked how it was going or said the usual thank you after getting the coffees. And there she was now, sitting next to him on one of the benches in the backyard just out of the cafeteria, sipping her cinnamon flavored coffee at past 1am with a doctor of a higher rank that up until that morning she had been labelling as "the hot one".

She had found talking to Doctor Yagami as easy as conversing with every other of her old time friends, and there, under the stars of that heated night, as he was telling her about how this one time a fifteen year old patient had developed this huge crush on him during the time she had spent in the hospital recovering, Mimi had thought that that patient was pretty relatable.

Yagami Taichi was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. With his tanned skin and longish hair pulled back in a casual way, now that Mimi had the opportunity to watch him from a close perspective he was handsome in a particular way, with his kind brown eyes and dimples showing whenever he laughed. But, above everything else, it had been his straightforwardness and openness to attract Mimi closer to him as they had been sipping their respective coffees, how he’d casually touched her shoulder after a joke, or how his leg had moved to graze hers as he had asked for a question about her hair she doesn’t really remember now.

And there she is, asking herself how long she'll be able to last sitting there like that - their knees casually touching as he keeps a strand of her hair between his fingers - before this all becomes uncomfortable. But then, she's surprised to realize that instead of uneasiness, she's feeling that sudden rush of excitement through her body, starting from the spot where his warm leg is touching hers, to the tips of her fingers.

And maybe he's thinking the same, because when their eyes meet he lets her hair go only to bring his hand to her cheek, sliding down until he's cupping her neck and his thumb is moving cautiously over her earlobe, causing her breathing to become more irregular, and her eyes to lower on his lips.

The thought of how inappropriate this whole thing is doesn’t even cross her mind as he brings her face closer to his own, and she's actually the one to dive in and close the distance between them to find out his lips are soft, and just right, and when he parts them his tongue is sweet and warm and she can taste the coffee they had been sipping until only minutes before.

He does something with his tongue that makes her want more and then she's grabbing his white coat with both of her hands to bring his whole body closer, because his mouth is not enough anymore. He complies, and she feels his right hand tightening its grip on the back of her neck, and the other one traveling over her leg and up, up, up, until she feels pressure right where she really needs him.

"Where's your office?" She breathes between one kiss and the next, and it takes her all she’s got to do so and not let the urge of laying down on that bench get the best of her.

"Trauma and Emergency is too crowded at night." He barely manages to give her a coherent answer, and Mimi is quick to reply: "Neurosurgery isn't."

His lips are on hers again just as soon as she turns around after locking the door of her office behind her, and then he's pinning her between himself and the door, her small body covered by his slightly bent one. She swings one leg around his hips to give him the clue, and readily he takes it and picks her up only to stumble through a desk and a pile of boxes before making it to the couch.

"Do you have condoms?" She asks him when she's sitting on top of him, one shoulder of her white coat together with the one of her dress down her arm showing her bare skin, and she sees him fixing her naked spot and squeezing her bottom before trying to reply.

"I really didn't think I'd be doing this at work." It comes out with a somewhat apologetic tone, but Mimi is more concentrated on the way he's looking at her, his eyes burning and fingers sliding to her front to deepen into her. She moans, half biting her bottom lip, letting her head fall and rest on his shoulder, hiding her face on the crook of his neck and kissing him in that spot as he lightly bites the skin of her shoulder.

"I should have a couple in my purse." She manages to say with some difficulty, distracted by how he in thrusting inside her with his fingers. And, unable to part from her, he lifts himself and her from the couch to reach for the bag sitting on the desk on the other side of the room.

He lays her on the desk, moving the stack of papers and other objects his mind is not quick enough to recognize on the side, and he starts kissing her cheek and her ear, traveling down to her neck. With the hand that is not holding the hair on the back of his head, she blindly looks for the condoms in the inside pocket of her purse.

Then there is not enough to time to do things properly, to get rid of their clothing or to move back on the couch to be more comfortable. All she feels is anticipation and electricity running through her veins, and she only registers him kneeling down to bother with removing her underwear only with his teeth before he sinks himself inside her, and she clings to him with all her body.

The last week of August brings with itself a slightly cooler wind, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity Mimi is able to leave the windows open in each room she stops by. With the end of the month comes the end of some of the doctors’ vacations, and the pace at the hospital seems to slowly go back to its normal state. She spends her days between the hospital, The Island and - finally - her flat, staying by Jyou for the most time, catching up with Sora during those breaks they share, dropping by the Laboratory to check if Koushiro is feeding himself properly, and making sure she doesn’t visit Miyako during her work hours.

Not that she’s ever wondered around the Trauma and Emergency Center that often, ever. She and Miyako had made the pact of trying to stay out of each other’s way as much as possible during work hours ever since her younger friend had started her fellowship, and the reason behind it had been quite simple: they were both very talkative people, and being good friends as they were it wasn’t hard to find ways to waste time. In addition to that, they also used to share an apartment up until Miyako had moved back with one of her sisters the previous fall, when her other sister had gotten married and moved out.

Miyako leaving the flat had been quite disrupting back then. Mimi remembers a time when she’d needed her friend’s presence after a date turned particularly wrong, and found emptiness in what used to be her room. Granted - she still had Koushiro with her, and as her best friend he had been there for her during all those so called emergencies when Miyako couldn’t teleport herself from one side of town to the other, but Mimi had come to the conclusion, one day, than more than Miyako’s mere presence, she missed the flat dynamic that there had been for many years between herself, Koushiro and Miyako.

And now, roughly one year later, Miyako’s room is still free, and Mimi and Koushiro still reject an average of 1.5 flatmate applications a week because even though they have no intention of letting anyone other than their former flatmate in, they still keep the notice of a room up for rent out. Which doesn’t make sense, as Mimi’s heard so many times form Jyou, but that didn’t mind. She’d found her safe haven in that shared apartment with Koushiro, and while she had always been the right girl for an adventure, now she was at a time in her life that asked for stability, calm, and a sense of belonging.

(All of which she doesn’t have, or at least she doesn’t feel so, as if she’s hanging in there even if there aren’t storms around her. She feels like she’s still, and everything else moves around her, and in everything, she doesn’t feel the need of taking action. She simply doesn’t feel.)

“So I’ve heard —“

There’s a look of pure horror in Mimi’s eyes when she looks up from the tray full of empty dishes of what had been her lunch to find Takeru’s beaming eyes. In a split second, she wonders just how fast gossip can travel between the walls of that stupid hospital, also trying to figure out a way to disagree and change topics almost immediately.

“— that you’re trying to find a new housemate.”

A sigh leaves Mimi’s rosy lips and it’s then that she takes in the scene unfolding before her eyes: Takeru - in contrary to what she believed - isn’t alone. There’s another guy right next to him, propped on the chair in front of her as he’s trying to climb it in a funny sort of way. His hair’s so spiky she wonders if that’s a way he likes to style it or that’s just the way it is - much like Koushiro, that no matter how many products she decides to try on him, his hair won’t flatten.

“Trying is a big word.” She simply comments, resolving into pouring herself the last drops of soda there’s left in the can into the empty glass.

#digimon #michi #mimi tachikawa #taichi yagami #digisafe #what even are the tags the kids use these days lmao #it's actually quite amusing seeing just how much i've outgrown this place #but at the same time i wish i was as creative as i was a couple of years ago #oh well #clara writes #and is retreating into her cave in 3... 2... 1

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holyhikari · 6 years

Text

a tale of two wolves;

Life is Strange 2 one-shot. Fluff. Centered on the Diaz brothers. Pre-game.

on ao3

Sean does not hear the first knock on the door.

He is not sure if it is the second or the third one that reaches his ears. He stirs and waits for an instant — he wants to make sure that what he is hearing is not a dream that lasted a little too long, tinting reality. The thick raindrops outside engulf the knocks almost entirely and he is tempted to fall asleep again, but they persist. A feather-like sound that barely feels real before fading away, as tiny as the boy that must be standing outside his room. However, very much like Daniel, it grows louder and harder to ignore.

With a groan, Sean opens his eyes and lets the world come to him in waves. There is something on his chest, he realizes. It is light and familiar. He reaches for it and soon enough his fingers brush his sketchbook. At the dim moonlight that comes from the window near his desk, Sean can only make out a few lines from today’s evening; very precise although drawn quickly, some traces of Lyla’s beaming face. He was making her a portrait before his consciousness drifted away. Dios, how he misses being asleep right now.

He knows it’s not Dad disturbing his long-awaited rest. Call it older brother instinct, his very sensitive nature or simply being accustomed to it, but he knows that his current bother has big brown eyes and barely nine years living in this exhausting world. Yet, it is nice to get a confirmation, which comes in the form of an unsteady whisper.

“Sean?”

“Go away,” he answers. “It’s too late. Too early. Whatever.”

Daniel is not one to follow the rules — his rules, at least. When it comes to Dad, it is a different story. He always has a way to make his mischievous little brother behave well. Firm and commanding, but still warm and gentle. Naturally, Daniel pays no mind to Sean’s request and opens the door just enough to peek inside.

“Sean, I can’t sleep.” He whines.

A deep sigh makes its way out of his body. Sean can kiss his sleep goodbye. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“I really, really can’t.” Daniel goes on, opening the door further. “I’m serious.”

Sean can barely see the form of his little brother coming in. The steps that echo when Daniel walks towards his bed, just like his previous knocks, are nothing to the thunderstorm outside; it makes every other sound look like a rough, long-forgotten draft in someone’s desk. Lyla says that his habit of making drawing metaphors all the time is incredibly annoying – “kinda charming though, let’s find an artsy girl for you!”

“Is it the rain?” Sean finds himself asking despite his overwhelming desire to stay silent until Daniel eventually leaves.

His brother hesitates.

“Yes and no.”

“What kind of answer even is that?”

“An honest one!”

“You know what,” Sean decides, “just go to Dad. Leave me be.”

“I don’t want to bother Dad…”

“But bothering me is just fine.” Sean deadpans. “Well, you’re here. Be my guest.”

“I had a bad dream,” his brother begins, “and the rain isn’t helping either. It’s keeping me awake and I can’t stop thinking about my nightmare.”

The way that Daniel’s voice cracks slightly catches Sean attention. With a frown, he lights up the bedside lamp to reveal a red and puffed-eyed boy in dinosaur pajamas. Daniel blinks twice. He is surprised that he has been caught, sure, but Sean feels the tiniest of smiles on his lips when he realizes that his brother is not even a bit ashamed of the crying — he stands there somewhat sniffy and with no intentions of hiding the few tears on his cheek that Sean quickly brushes away with his thumb. Dad is always reminding them that boys and men can and should cry when they feel like it, say te quiero when they love someone and be open and kind as much as they can.

“Been kinda down lately, bro?”

“Just a little.” Daniel turns the bedside lamp off. “This hurts my eyes. They can’t suffer any damage, you know. How else would I play Minecraft?”

Sean rolls his eyes. “This game is annoying as hell.”

“You swore!” He says somewhat loudly. “And Minecraft isn’t annoying. You don’t know what the cool games are.”

Instead of taking the bait, Sean asks, “What’s on your mind?”

“My brain,” comes the answer right away. “Duh.”

“No,” Sean laughs faintly. “That would only be an acceptable answer if I had said head.”

“Oh,” Daniel breathes. “Can I change my answer to chocolate cake?”

“You hungry?” He asks. “I can get up and make something. Or I can just find you that candy bar you like so much.”

“Nah, no need.” Daniel shrugs. “I can’t have any sugar that late anyways. Not healthy.”

“My pride and joy,” Sean teases. “I was just testing you.”

His little brother snorts, happier than he was before, but Sean can still sense the fear emanating from his small body. Something inside him hurts and he feels his voice soften; that tone that he uses with Daniel whenever he needs to be comforted. These situations are getting rarer as he grows up, but a kid is still a kid.

“Wanna talk about that bad dream?”

Daniel’s expression collapses and he looks in some random direction behind Sean’s head, avoiding eye contact.

“I…” He coughs. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“Hey. Come here, enano.”

Daniel accepts Sean’s invitation with a smile and joins him under the covers. The boy lets out a blissful little sigh as he starts stroking his hair, rhythm slow and steady. Daniel is adorable like that, all warm and quiet, and Sean almost forgets that he usually has an unruly brat as a brother.

“Thought you would never offer!” He complains. “I was getting cold.”

“You can always just ask, you know.” Sean reminds him. “You know there is no one better than me to chase the monsters away.”

“I don’t believe in monsters!” Daniel huffs with indignation. Then, he considers. “Well, not the kind of monster that lives under the bed. That’s for little kids. The Bigfoot is real, obviously. And zombies, too. And I guess vampires. And… and werewolves,” he trails off. “But I don’t like wolves anymore.”

“What?” Sean frowns. “You love them. You’re my wolf boy.”

Daniel’s tiny hand finds his. Sean squeezes it gently. “Not after the nightmare…”

“No way I’m letting some dream ruin wolves for you,” he starts, “I’ll make you like them again. Tell me what happened, kiddo.”

“We were camping.”

“So far so good.”

“Yeah, but Dad was nowhere to be seen. Why would we go to the woods without him? That’s the first weird thing. And we didn’t have any camping stuff! And no food!” Daniel turns his head up to look at him. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“It makes no sense,” Sean agrees. “We’re smart enough to bring a tent. At least I am. You only would be worried about bringing your toys, you big baby.” There is not a single trace of malice on his tone, and Daniel rolls his eyes fondly.

“Whatever. My toys are more important than your sketchbook.” He pauses. “No, I take that back. Your drawings are awesome.”

Sean smiles, “Thanks, pequeño.”

“So, we were out in the woods. We made a cool fire and everything. But then I heard a noise…” He holds his breath for a moment. “A really scary one. I thought it was a bear. I tried waking you up, but you were out cold. I would scream your name and nothing. Nothing. Like you were dead.”

Daniel sounds like he is about to cry again, so Sean holds him closer; he turns him over a little so he can reach his back and rub small, calming circles on it. He trembles on his embrace.

“That would never happen,” he assures. “Your voice is pretty loud, Daniel. I can hear it from far, far away. Your lungs don’t joke around.” Sean points out. “Shit, I forgot where they are. Are they here? Or here?”

Sean starts ticking him all over his body, laughing too when hysterical giggles escape from his little brother. He squirms and squirms breathless, and Sean finishes his attack with a loud raspberry on Daniel’s belly.

“You monster,” Daniel gasps between laughs.

“That’s right,” he says in a serious tone. “The undefeatable tickle monster.”

“You made me forget where I was.”

“It seems then that the undefeatable tickle monster has many powers.”

“You’re so dumb, Sean.”

“Takes one to know one.”

He sniffs after calming down, “Oh, I remember it. You didn’t wake up. And it was no bear.”

“It was a wolf,” Sean guesses.

“Its fur was a dark shade of red. Like blood. The claws were way too sharp for a regular wolf. But the scarier thing… the eyes, Sean. Completely black. A void. It made its way towards you with its mouth open and… I could only watch. Like a coward.”

“Geez,” he gulps, “I don’t plan to be anyone’s dinner any time soon.”

“I thought it was going to get me too,” Daniel says, “But it was worse. It just left me there. Alone. I hate when… when I’m left behind. Just like…”

“Just like Mom,” Sean nods. He feels his throat burn. After all these years, it’s like a fresh wound, as if he has to watch her leave every single day of his life, every time Dad seems too tired raising them all by himself.

“Yeah,” Daniel whispers. Then, he says, “Stupid wolf.”

Sean closes his eyes for a brief moment. It’s always like this. They touch the subject and soon enough they are running from it as fast as they can. Dad stopped saying her name a few years ago, and Daniel gets his favorite meal every Mother’s day to cheer him up a bit. It all seems senseless, a pain too deep to escape from, a face that his memory cannot touch anymore without getting lost in years that will never return.

“Hey,” Sean forces himself to say, “It’s okay. Like you said, it wasn’t a normal wolf. It’s the kind of stuff that only shows up when you’re dreaming. And you totally know what would have happened in real life.”

Daniel blinks. “I do?”

“Bro, are you kidding me? You would have tamed him.” Sean smiles. “Actually, you two would be best buddies in no time.”

“You’re my best buddy,” Daniel yawns. “Not when you’re being a butthead, though.”

He ignores the last comment. “The wolf will let you name it, even.”

“Super Skeleton.”

“What?” Sean blinks. “What did you just said?”

“The name,” he says somewhat impatiently, “the wolf’s name. It’s my nickname on Minecraft.”

“Of course it is,” he rolls his eyes. “Anyway, you don’t have anything to worry about, dude. If we ever come across a wolf, you howl like you like to do and everything will be okay. You will even get to travel on its back.”

He looks down to Daniel, who seems to be pondering intensely what he has just said.

“What if is a bad wolf, Sean?”

“Then I’ll make sure it doesn’t get near you. My howling is great. We would make a good pair of wolves, you know.” He also yawns. “The Wolf Brothers. Nothing can tear us apart.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Daniel is now looking at him with vulnerable, trusting eyes, and Sean feels his heart melting. He would do anything in the world to make sure he keeps being worth of Daniel’s loyalty, he realizes with a mix of apprehension and that exact kind of love that Dad always reminds them of. Sean wonders for a moment if Mom left because she could not feel it; that undying force that disarms your, makes someone go down to their knees, strips them bare, chest open and bleeding.

They lay down close to each other for a while, the rain long gone. With a quick kiss on Daniel’s forehead, he whispers in the dark:

“Te quiero.”

Daniel’s slight snore is just the answer he wanted to hear.

#lis2 #life is strange 2 #sean diaz #daniel diaz #life is strange #my writing

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i-have-been-changed-for-good · 6 years

Text

A Little Bit of Something

Monday - In the morning I’m talking to Joyce while she’s at the coffee machine, so I turn to Scott really quick to say hi because I have no choice while Joyce is watching me. I barely make eye contact with him. I don’t even wait long enough to see how he responds to me. When I look at him again, he is passing by me and he has no expression on his face. So before Scott came in, Steve and I were observing a snake caught on a sticky trap in the warehouse. We both want to help it. After Scott comes in, I go to my computer and look to see what helps get creatures unstuck, and cooking oil comes up. I go to their office to let Steve know, and he calls Linda, who says she has olive oil. At one point, I can tell Scott is looking at me. I turn to him and he’s beaming at me. I light up too and we look at each other for a few seconds. Not long after, Steve comes to my desk and asks if I’m ready. We open the warehouse door, put on gloves, and grab the snake. I look at Scott, who is facing his office door and was looking at me. He put his head down to look at his cellphone, which is in his hands. Steve takes the snake in to Scott and I follow. We talk for only a few moments and then Steve walks out. I follow. When I pass by Steve’s window to look in at Scott, he quickly puts his head down again. Steve and I successfully free the snake. It took us maybe 10 minutes or so. It was really cool cuz we got his tail loose first, but he kept swinging it so I was trying to stop his tail from getting stuck again. The snake wrapped his tail around my finger a few times. It was awesome and I very much enjoyed that. I’m going to ShopRite for lunch today and I message Scott at 11:47 if he wants anything. He doesn’t respond. I go to his doorway and ask if he wants anything and he tells me he just responded to my message, that he only just saw it, but he doesn’t want anything. I don’t know how he missed it since messages blink. Steve hasn’t gone to lunch yet, but I don’t know if I should ask if he wants anything, so I don’t. When I go in Scott’s office, I ask how his day is. He says it’s okay. I ask about his weekend and he tells me he finished painting his garage. He asks me about my weekend and I tell him I went over my dad’s Saturday night and we had dinner and then watched Black Panther and Thor: Ragnarok. The only Marvel movie Scott has seen is Deadpool, which he liked. I tell him about the snake this morning and how it wrapped around my finger. Once we freed it, it tried to bite Steve, and then it coiled as if ready to attack if we came closer. After about a minute or two, it slithered away. I say how I don’t think it was very grateful and Scott laughs and says “Of course not, it’s a snake.” Scott says he doesn’t feel like working and we joke about that. I see on the other side of his desk that he brought a water canteen today. I see the words “love you mom” and I can see a hand. Most likely it’s a picture of his daughter on there, and probably a gift Scott got his wife. I look away from it, and I don’t realize I am staring into a void, lost in thought. Scott asks me if I’m okay, which snaps me back to reality. I say I’m just tired. Scott says he could use a latte, but the ShopRite near our work doesn’t carry the one he likes. He asks me how ShopRite was and I tell him it wasn’t busy. I got aloe water but they only had grape flavor, which isn’t my first choice. Scott tried aloe water over the weekend, but he got a brand that has chunks in it. Chunks are gross. He couldn’t finish it. I mention how I really want to try oat milk and how I’m probably going to buy some this week. Scott says he bought almond milk yogurt but doesn’t like it, and he has one left. I tell him I don’t like it either. Then he offers it to me. “I just said I don’t like it,” I laugh. Scott says for me to take it anyway since he doesn’t just want to throw it out. He asks me if I have gum and I go and grab my pack. Steve comes in so I offer him a piece as well, trying to hopefully make up for not asking if he wants anything from ShopRite. He declines. I look back at Scott, who is smiling softly at me. When I leave, I look back at him through Steve’s window. He turns to look at me at the last second before I pass behind the wall.

I use the bathroom and come up the hall just as Scott comes out of his office. He asks me if I want anything and I decline. Some time a little later, I go to take an order out into the warehouse. As I reach the door, I see someone walking toward me on the right. It’s Scott walking back to his office. I give him a little smile, and he gives me a little smile back. When I talk to him at the end of the day and ask how his day was, he says he’s glad it’s over. I tell him that he always says that. I forgot to take my blue light glasses off and Scott asks me about them. I tell him I feel less tired since I’ve been using them, but I don’t know if it’s a placebo effect or not. It feels weird when I’m not looking at a screen though because the glasses have a yellow tint to them, so it feels good sometimes to take them off. I say how glasses are terrible all the time. If it rains, it’s annoying because then you can’t see and your glasses are wet. When it’s sunny, you can’t just put sunglasses over them. You could get the tinted ones, which look stupid, or have the clip ons, which also look stupid. Saturday is the first day of fall so I’m going to bake something and bring it in Friday. I would like to make some cool donuts, but I have no idea how to make donuts. Scott says I could just buy something, but I want to make it. I want to do these apples covered in black caramel, but Scott says that’s too Halloweeny. He’s leaving on time today. Scott passes my cubicle while I’m still getting my things together, but I hear him use the bathroom. I go outside and close my passenger door just as Scott comes walking out. He has a little crooked smile on his face. We look at each other and say bye.

Tuesday - When I greet Scott in the morning, he seems happy. I like when it feels reciprocated.

During my lunch, Scott is working on a return, so I ask him questions about it. I’m just curious. He is kind of pissed because he’s fixing someone else’s mistake. He had an order that someone wanted sent overnight, but no one ever shipped it. So the person who ordered cancelled the order. Then, 2 days later, someone decided to ship the order out. So now Scott has to put everything together for a return. I don’t blame him for being mad. In between me asking him questions, I look at the map on his wall. Montana has a profile view of a face on the left side of it. I point this out to Scott. He never noticed it either. He asks me how my day is going and I say it’s okay. I was having really bad pain again last night and couldn’t really do much. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I hope I don’t have IBS or some other really shitty condition like that. Scott still has his stomach issues, and sometimes under his ribs hurt. His doctor keeps telling him that pain is unrelated, but Scott thinks it is. Scott says I look like I could fall asleep. I am sleepy. He takes off his glasses. Aside from my cat, Scott has my favorite face. I tell him he looks tired too. “Really? I don’t feel tired. I don’t know if that’s good that I look tired but don’t feel like I am.” I’m sure caffeine helps. He was up late watching football since players in his draft were playing. Scott’s hungry. I ask if he has snacks and he said he needs to stock his drawer. I tell him I have snacks if he ever needs anything. He thanks me. I tell him I have pistachios (Scott says he loves these, as do I), plantain chips, and those mini cheese rice cakes. My legs are draped over the side of his desk. I have my flats on, which Scott says look like slippers. I don’t think they do, but I say how they are really comfy. Scott is cleaning his glasses off, or trying to at least. We both agree that there is just no way to get glasses 100% clean. While he’s cleaning them, the song that is on starts playing sex noises. My body tightens. I look at Scott, then look away. He just focuses on cleaning his glasses. Scott looks at me a lot during the time I’m in there. He tends to look away when I look back at him though. At one point, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m playing with my tongue between my teeth and then up and over my top lip. Scott just watches me, then he smiles. Steve comes in and I turn to Scott to say I’ll talk to him later. He’s staring at me. Toward the end of day, I come out of Joyce’s cubicle and Scott goes into his office drinking water. He looks at me at the last second. My tongue is out over my top lip. I print an email then use the bathroom and hear the men’s room door close moments later. I see it’s Scott when I come back to my desk. I hear him grab a faxed paper but when I turn to look, he’s gone. At the end of the day, I tell Scott how Pete talked to me today about me being hired. He also went to HR because it’s ridiculous I’ve been waiting for so long. Scott had taken off his glasses and is giving me his full attention. I say how I had coffee so I feel better. Earlier in the day I was tired and in pain, and now I’m just in pain. Scott laughs and says that sucks.

I come out of my cubicle and hear Scott turn his office light out. I linger for a few seconds, but he doesn’t come out. I start walking. I hear him not too far behind me and when I reach the end of the hall, I turn. Scott says bye to me and that he has to pee. He doesn’t take long in the bathroom and when he comes outside, I wave. Wednesday - I end up greeting Scott at the coffee machine in the morning, which doesn’t happen that often. I get an order in the early afternoon and notice a part is priced at one cent, which obviously isn’t right. Scott put the order together, so I go ask him about it. I printed the unfinished invoice, and he says “This isn’t my order.” The Sales Order sheets look different. I tell him to just ignore how it looks. He’s looking into why the part got changed from $75 to $.01. “How did this happen?” he asks me. I say I don’t know, and he says he wasn’t actually asking me, he was just talking out loud. He didn’t ask it like a rhetorical question though. He has to erase the picked order and create a new one. I watch him work the whole time and am in awe. He’s clicking from one thing to another and to another. I keep admiring how intelligent he is. I also take the opportunity to observe him while he works. I love doing this with Scott. I like all of the familiar things about him, plus noticing new things. I see some freckles on his tanned arm, under all of his dark hair. I also notice a very small chunk missing from the right side of his nose. I’m there about 10-15 minutes. Scott had also gotten a phone call during that time, so he had to pause working on my order. When he finishes, he hands me back my paper and we lock eyes. I thank him for his help. During my lunch, I ask if he’s busy and he says he always is. Scott gives me a little smile as he stops working to just stare at me. He does this several times during our conversation. And always when I’m not looking at him. I tell him I’m trying to decide what to bake for Friday. I’m scrolling through Pinterest and going over some ideas that I have. I mention making something black, like black cupcakes. Scott says he wouldn’t eat anything black, which I find strange. He asks me if I’m baking just because it’s autumn or for Halloween. I tell him for autumn, but that I may also bring in something for Halloween since it falls on a Wednesday. Scott asks me if I dress up, and I tell him not really. I was going to put a little outfit together last year, but wasn’t sure if anyone at work would be celebrating. I think all I have are bat socks though. Scott finds this funny. I may buy a shirt for this year though to wear to work. I tell him I love to decorate though. I got a bunch of decorations last year for Halloween. I didn’t even decorate for Christmas, though that was because I didn’t have money to, which I don’t tell Scott. I see Scott has blueberry gum, so I ask if I can try a piece. He holds a piece between his first 3 fingers and when I grab the gum, I also touch his fingers. Scott’s hand lingers for a moment after I grab the gum. Scott asks me how my stomach feels, and I think it’s almost back to normal. Scott’s neck is stiff today. I wish I could massage it for him :/ Our conversation continues with Scott asking me a lot of questions. I feel like I talked over him a few times, which I didn’t meant to do. I’m sitting at my desk and turn left to grab some papers just as Scott happens to come over to my cubicle. He asks me if I want anything from WaWa. I don’t, but it’s so sweet he always asks me. Toward the end of the day, I come out of the bathroom, and when I reach the end of the hall, I see Scott on my left. I look over my shoulder as I pass and we both say, “hey.” At the end of the day, Scott is still a little busy. I tell him how Ryan, Angelo’s replacement when he retires, talked to me today. He is really pushing for my company to take the hold off of hiring since I’ve been waiting for so long. At the very least, they will at least pay for me to have health insurance. Ryan also asked me if there’s a penalty for not being insured and I tell him there is a fine, which makes me believe my company is willing to pay that as well. I tell Scott I decided on pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and ask him if white chocolate chip or milk chocolate sounds better. He says milk, which is what I was thinking too. I want him to know I value his input. I ask if he’s leaving on time and he says he is in a minute. I go and grab my things, trying to take my time. After I say bye to Pete and Joyce, I go to Scott’s doorway and it looks like he’s still working, so I say bye and that I’ll see him tomorrow. His car starts right when I get to my passenger door. I look really good today, so I’m in the middle of taking a selfie when Scott comes out. I try to play it off, though I’m sure he caught me lol. I just wave. Selfies below :) The first one I took at work, and the second one I took when I pulled into my apartment complex.

Thursday - Scott comes in late today. I get worried and consider asking Steve if Scott is okay. When I’m refilling my water bottle some time a little after 10, I hear the back door open and a plastic bag ruffling. Scott. It immediately clicks in my brain that he had his doctor appointment today. He told me about it earlier in the week. Sure enough, on the way back to my cubicle, I see Scott walk into his office. After about a minute, I grab documents I had printed and Scott comes out of his office. I turn and he puts his hand up in greeting right before he passes behind the wall. I say “Hey, Scott” and I hear him respond, “Hey, Dana.” Not long before my lunch, I go out into the warehouse to take out orders. When I come in, I see Scott walking toward his office door with his empty water cup. I give him a small smile, but he doesn’t exactly smile back. I don’t know how to describe his face, but it seemed like he was stuck somewhere between a frown and a smile, some sort of in-between. When I go in during my lunch, I ask him how his doctor appointment went. He says as he expected. He has to get an ultrasound done, and if they don’t find anything, there’s a few other things they might do as a next step, which includes sticking a tube through his nose down to his stomach for 24 hours. We talk for a bit about all of that. Scott says he hopes they find out what’s wrong with him before the new year, since the new insurance sucks. We get on the topic of insurance for a bit. Toward the end of that topic, we talk about how no matter what your salary is, we all have the same deductible. Scott says, “Yeah, pretty much we’re all gonna be making $3000 less.” Except we won’t. I don’t realize it until much later in the day, when I’m at home, in the shower, but we will not all make $3000 less. That deductible is for people who are insuring others in addition to themselves. Scott’s daughter…and his wife. At some point early in our conversation, Scott takes off his tinted reading glasses. I stare at his face, which appears bright and open. He tells me his friend’s funeral is tomorrow but that it’s in the middle of the day, and he doesn’t really want to take the whole day off. Plus, it’s in northeast Philly and he hasn’t seen the guy in 15-20 years. I get the impression he feels kind of bad for choosing not to go, so I support his decision and kind of talk him through it. I tell him how I bought all of my cookie stuff last night and how I’m determined to do this. I went to a different ShopRite, one a bit further from me, because they have oat milk, which I’ve wanted to try. Scott asks me if it lived up to my expectations, but I hadn’t tried it yet. (I have since tried it, and it doesn’t have much of a taste. It’s a bit watery like almond milk.) I tell him how they had other milks, like macadamia and plant based, both of which I also want to try. Scott asks me if I drink regular milk. He says he’s just curious. I say I don’t buy it anymore and go into a short, informative rant about how our bodies aren’t made to have dairy after we’re no longer babies, how the lactase in our bodies decreases, and that our body really only keeps making lactase because we keep consuming dairy. So being lactose intolerant is common because it’s actually natural, though we tend to think of it at unnatural. A lot of health people I follow and health podcasts I listen to promote being dairy free, even if they eat meat. I also talks about dairy’s affect on our bodies. I do still consume some dairy, but not much. Scott watches me the whole time I’m talking. I often wonder if I talk too much, but Scott never makes me feel like I do. He’s attentive. I talk a little about veggie “meat” as well. I tell Scott I have some avocado left if he wants it, but it won’t really go with his lunch and he doesn’t like to eat it plain. His daughter likes it plain though. Scott says it’s not flavorful enough and I say it is. He says no, flavorful would be like an apple, and I say how an apple only appears more flavorful because it’s juicy and refreshing. He thinks it over and then agrees with me. I tell him I’m considering getting Thai food for dinner, since I saw Paul’s container of food when I handed him an order. “I didn’t know what was in there, but my brain went ‘Mm Asian food’ and now that’s what I keep thinking about.” Scott laughs. He doesn’t really like too much Asian food aside from sushi. We talk about that for a bit. Scott had given me a sweet look a few times while I was in there. Once in particular, was when I was draping my legs over the edge of his desk. I remember looking at his lips at one point, wondering what they’d feel like against mine. I ask him how his neck is feeling and he says it feels better, but it would be nice to crack it. He jokingly asks me to crack it for him and I say I wouldn’t trust myself to. I heat my afternoon coffee in the microwave and walk back down the hall. Right as I’m about to turn and pass Scott’s office, he turns and looks at me. I have a small smile on my face, but he just keeps his neutral stare. At the end of the day, when I turn around from the paper bin and walk toward Scott’s office, he actually turns toward the door and watches me walk in. It’s a nice change. He’s giving me a sweet little smile. I ask him how the rest of his day has been and he says not bad. His whole body is turned toward me and as I walk closer, I can see his eyes are on my breasts. He has his tinted glasses on, but I can see where his eyes are looking. I watch as his eyes flick up to my face. I sit down. His chair has been in the same position all day, facing his wall. I ask if he’s sat at all today and he says he doesn’t think he has. I tell him I’m tired today and that I don’t know how people wake up and go to bed at the same times daily. I woke up at 6:40 yesterday and 7:20 today. Scott says I’m lucky that I live so close and that he wishes he could wake up at 7:20. I tell him I hate waking up late because then I’m rushing and don’t have time to do some stuff. Scott says he never rushes to get anywhere. I noticed. We both laugh. It’s time to go. Scott is leaving on time. Scott walks out of his office right before I walk out of my cubicle. He gives me a crooked little smile. As we walk down the hall, he asks me if I want to race today. I tell him I always win. "That’s because we’re never racing.” I agree, and say I’m going to win anyway. Scott keeps smiling a toothy smile and I feel warm inside. His smile is my favorite. He tells me not to get caught. “Get caught?” “Yeah. Speeding.” We say bye. I win.

Friday - I’m changing one of the ink cartridges when Scott comes in. He’s wearing his dark gray shirt, my favorite on him. I’m wearing the light gray company t-shirt I always wear on Fridays. Our jeans are also pretty much the same color, his a bit darker than mine. I turn to him and say, “Hey, Scott” and he replies, “Hey, Dana.” I turn away for a second then turn back to him and say, “Good morning,” which he says back to me. He asks me how I’m doing and then looks at the cookies as he passes. He gets to his doorway, turns, and asks me how the cookies turned out. I say “pretty good.” He goes into his office but comes back out 30 seconds later to go down the hall. I don’t think he looked at me. Since the printer needs to calibrate after the ink is changed, I make my coffee. Scott had already gone back into his office. I go to the mini fridge to put my creamer in my coffee and when I start walking back down the hall, I see Scott had been looking at me while he was talking to Steve. He looks back at Steve and as I get closer he turns to face his computer. I print stuff and I hear someone come in from the warehouse and walk by to use the bathroom. I have a feeling it’s Scott, and I see he’s been away 5 minutes. I continue to print what I need without any urgency. I know our chance encounters will happen when they’re meant to. I go over to the printer and then hear the men’s room door open. After I sift through the papers to make sure everything is mine, I turn around. A guy, Billy, is right there, and behind him is Scott. I beam at Scott who gives me a cute little crooked grin. During my lunch, I ask Scott how his day has been. He says it’s pretty good, but his back hurts him a little bit. I ask him if he’s got any plans for the weekend, and he says probably just working on his garage. He might paint the floor, but he’s not sure yet, and he has to put everything back together in there. His eye is bothering him, and he’s not sure if something is in there. We stare into each other eyes and then I focus on just the one. I tell him it’s not red or anything. I ask him if he tried my cookies and he says he hasn’t yet, but he heard they were good. I say how Steve liked them, and of course that’s who told Scott they were good. I was up late making them since I only had one baking sheet and didn’t think ahead of time to buy a second one. I say how this is the first time I’ve made something from scratch without it being disastrous and Scott says, “So you’re a baker now, huh?” I reply pompously, “Yeah, I guess you could call me that.” Scott laughs. I say how I might decorate tomorrow since it’s the first day of fall. I have some new decorations but don’t know where I’m going to put some of them. I have these lantern things, and I could probably tack them to the ceiling, but I’m not tall enough to reach. Scott comments how I’m pretty tall and I say how I’m only 5'4". Scott thought I was taller, but I say maybe because I wear my boots a lot. Scott jokes how with those on I look 6 feet tall. Even so, Scott should be aware that I’m not really tall. Scott asks if I have stools and I say I do, but it’s only one step up, not 2 steps, so I still can’t reach my ceiling. He keeps rubbing his eye. We stare again. I say how its starting to look a little watery. I just want to staring into his eyes. I sit back and put my legs up on the corner of his desk. Scott smirks down at me. I ask if it’s supposed to rain this weekend and he says only Sunday. I tell him I don’t care about Sunday because I hate looking out the window at how nice it is and how I’m stuck inside working. The restaurant is supposed to close for a week, most likely in October. I hope it’s my birthday weekend. Scott asks me when my birthday is, which he should already know since I’ve mentioned it before. Plus it’s the same day as his, just a different month. I tell him the 15th. I say I could use another coffee and Scott says he’s going to WaWa if I want something. I decline, saying I will just make coffee here. I tell him I won racing yesterday and he says he kept getting stuck behind other people, which is true. His eye won’t stop bothering him so I ask if he wants to take a look at it in my compact. I go and get it for him, then he asks me for contact solution. He goes into the men’s room. Steve comes in, and he asks me about my aloe water. We start talking about different drinks. Scott comes back in. When Steve and I finish talking, I look back up at Scott, who is sweetly looking down at me with a little smile. It’s unexpected. I feel my body flood with warmth and affection. I tell him I’ll talk to him later. When Scott goes on lunch, he still asks me, “Are you sure you don’t want anything?” I say, “No, I’m alright. Thanks, Scott.” I do kinda want something, but I only have $2 and I’m not sure that will cover any canned drinks. I am walking toward the bathroom when I hear the back door sound. I’m sure it’s Scott, and sure enough, I hear the second door start to open. When I open the women’s room door, I look over my shoulder and see him start to come into view. When I come out of the bathroom, Scott is walking over to the cookies. He sees me and grins. He has his back to me as he grabs a cookie, so I take the opportunity to get a good look at the butt. When I get closer, he asks me what the bread is for. I stand right next to him, very closely, though he never turns to me. I stare at his his lips as I speak. “It soaks up the moisture so that the cookies stay soft. The bread will usually harden.” I feel the bread and add, “It hasn’t gotten there yet though. There’s your baking tip…if you ever bake.” Scott laughs and says he doesn’t bake. He can’t get the lid closed. “How do you close this thing?” “I got it.” He laughs as he walks away and my heart lights up. A little later, I come out of my cubicle and Scott is right there, turning down the hall to use the bathroom. I have a little smile on my face and he says, “hey.” I cannot explain how I always happen to run into him. It just happens. I go out into the warehouse not long after, and when I come in, Scott is sitting down and has his cell in his hands, but he turns to look at me. When I turn to look at him, he looks away. I hear Scott later in the day say hey to someone he passes by. I turn and see a part of him come into view. When he comes out of the bathroom, he grabs another cookie. “Grabbing another one?” I ask. He says something but I don’t hear him, and he walks away before I can say “What?”. Within minutes of Scott grabbing a cookie, a few other people do too. They’re a big hit :) Joe had grabbed one and walked away with it in the direction of Scott’s office. Scott comes in through the warehouse and I hear him ask, “They’re good, aren’t they?” Joe replies, “mm-hmm” as he eats the cookie. I feel myself light up. When I go in to talk to Scott at the end of the day, I ask him if he liked my cookies and he says he did. I tell him I think him and Steve are the only ones who went back for seconds, but not many people went to the printer today like they usually do. Scott says he saw Joey eating some and I say how Joey asked me first if he could have one and laugh. I tell him Steve asked me about the bread too. “You guys are like 2 peas in a pod.” Scott smiles. I ask him why he only ever has one paper on his desk to write notes on instead of grabbing a notepad, and he says he uses scrap paper so it doesn’t go to waste. He says Steve will get mad of he wastes paper. I laugh and ask why, and Scott says he doesn’t know. He asks me what people like that are called and I say I don’t know, maybe an environmentalist. I point out how Steve has paper all over his desk and Scott says he knows, it makes no sense. I ask if Steve still uses plastic and stuff and Scott says he does. “What? You have to be consistent.” Scott agrees with me. He calls Steve a tree hugger. It’s probably not that funny, but we laugh anyway. A weird song comes on and I ask Scott why he’s listening to Latino music. He says it isn’t Latino, but I say it is. We go back and forth for a minute or so. Scott laughs and it’s magic. It’s time to go. As I grab my stuff, Scott just turns down the hall. Pete is at the printer and starts talking to me, so I end up talking to him for a few minutes. Scott had used the bathroom, and when he comes out, he doesn’t wait for me. After another minute, I go outside. Scott is sitting in his seat but has the door open still. I wave and he waves back. I look down as I go down the steps, and when I reach the bottom, I look back at Scott, who is still looking at me. We wave again and I say, “Bye, Scott.” I get hit with a feeling in this moment, something that I think was the cumulative result of many different interactions this week: Scott looking at me a lot, his asking me a lot of questions, stopping and staring into each other eye’s pretty much daily. As much as I keep stuff held in on my end, I have at least let some of it out. Scott on the other hand, has not. I can’t possibly know for sure what’s in Scott’s heart or what he’s feeling, but it’s something. There’s something there. For me. And I am beginning to wonder if I may soon find out just what exactly it is.

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lxveille · 6 years

Text

trust fall

hoshi x reader

word count: ~ 2600 paranormal disaster/societal collapse!AU (???) a/n: somewhere in listening to “bring it” and my winter playlist and thinking about all those soulmate AUs where names are so important, this premise occurred to me and I decided to try to actually write it despite having drafts for, like, four other stories in the works atm. not 100% sure what to call this AU but things are Not Good™ and, uh, tldr?:

You put yourself in Hoshi’s hands.

You dig your fingers harder against your palms inside your pockets and wriggle your toes in your boots. Both are small attempts to keep your appendages from going numb in the cold. Snowflakes dot your hair and keep you from lifting your head even though you really ought to be on the lookout. Supposedly it was safer out here than in the cabin Hoshi had disappeared into some time ago. Which was enough information to know that you probably weren’t anywhere you should even think of closing your eyes for a second. But the wind and snow sting too much for you to look anywhere but at your own shoes.

In this too-quiet moment, with your mind struggling to think of anything but how goddamn cold you are, you find yourself trying to retrace your steps. How did you get here? The simple answer was just Hoshi. The better one requires too many steps back for you to get through as a strong gust makes you shiver in place and hunch your shoulders further in some effort to maintain body heat.

How long had you known him? Time was difficult to keep track of now. How long ago had it been that you’d snuck onto a cargo train in a foolish, last-ditch attempt to get away from a burning city? Because while Hoshi hadn’t been the one to find you hiding between two crates of artillery, he had been the one to get you out of a situation where you would still almost certainly be out of your depth. Exactly what he’d given up of his own to save you remains mostly unknown to you.

There’s a puff of condensation in the air from his breath before you hear or see him. Then his voice comes, airy and just a little judgemental, saying “You’ll die of exposure before anything else gets to you, you know?”

You look up to him, eyes squinting from the strain. “You told me to wait here.”

“Yeah, to wait here, not to go and try to get frostbite.” Hoshi reaches back and pulls the hood of your coat up over your head. You hate it. This coat already smells like some death you hadn’t witnessed, and it engulfs you whenever the hood is up. You reach your hands up to undo exactly what he’s just done. Before you can, he gives a firm tug on the front of the hood to keep you from putting it down. “Come on, Daydream. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

He stills calls you that. It’s solely because ‘daydream‘ had been the word printed in bold, capitalized letters on the slouchy cotton shirt you’d been wearing the day you met. You’d never picked an alias after the tenth plague struck, so he took one look over you and decided the word on your clothes would work. It didn’t matter that the shirt had long been torn and tossed as soon as the opportunity to throw on something else had come along.

Hoshi has never asked you for your real name himself. You’ve returned the courtesy thus far. But there’s a curiosity in you that has grown over the weeks spent by his side. Curious for what sort of name would suit him, curious to know if he ever imagined possible names for you the same way you did him.

That’s exactly what you’re doing as you trudge after him through the snow. Listing off names inside your head and mulling over whether each one would somehow make sense on an ID card of his. Not that anyone carried forms of identification anymore. Nearly everyone had burned them all as soon as they realized what weight names carry now.

It still felt like something out of some strange, fantastical book to you. Truly, you hadn’t fully believed it until a friend of yours had looked you straight in the eyes, called you by name, and ordered you to slap your own face. You have yet to forget the odd and panic-inducing feeling of your muscles moving faster than you could process, your body compelled to obey before your mind could even finish having the thought I’d never do something like that. Your friend apologized after and had put her own cool fingers to your reddened cheek as she murmured how this wasn’t the kind of thing anyone could afford to deny.

“We’re here,” Hoshi tells you sooner than you’re expecting. You look around at the trees before giving him a questioning look.

“We’re still in the middle of nowhere?” you prompt him for some kind of explanation.

He smiles at you through another small cloud of cold breath. It’s amused, like you’ve told some kind of inside joke. If only you were in on it. But it’s moments like this when you wonder what sort of person Hoshi was before the world began to crumble. He holds one finger up, asking you to wait just a minute as he kicks away at on the ground. You dig your hands as far into your pockets as they can possibly go as you watch him with furrowed brows.

It takes a few minutes of his foot swiping back and forth before he uncovered what he’s looking for. He takes something small from his pocket and leans down to unlock the metal bulkhead door. “What is this place?” you try asking once again, going for something a little more explicit this time.

“A safehouse,” Hoshi answers plainly.

“For who?” An important detail in your opinion. You weren’t eager to cross paths with anyone Hoshi had been running with when you’d first met.

“For now, us,” he assures as he stands up. You eye the dark stairs unfavorably and tilt your head to one side as you return your gaze to his. The smile has already faded, but his expression is softer than the one he’d worn all day. Tired, perhaps, if not some kind of relief.

So you follow his lead down. The safehouse is no more than one room with dwindling supplies that suggest you're not the first to take shelter here. But the site of a fully-made bed and a space heater makes you perk up almost immediately.

Hoshi practically winces when he goes to turn on the heater, bracing himself for the very real possibility that he may have been lied to. The generator promised to power this might not exist or might have been depleted already.

When the heater clicks to life, power button flickering on, he lets loose a victorious bark of a laugh. And then he’s waving you over to sit beside him. You drag blankets from the bed before you do.

Both of you shrug off your damp coats before wrapping a blanket around your shoulders each as you settle in front of the slowly warming machine.

“Seriously?” Hoshi catches you off guard a few moments later when he reaches out for your hands. Your fingers are red with cold. “Really, you’re gonna lose a limb or something if you don’t watch yourself.” He sounds annoyed by the ordeal. His actions suggest something different as he cups your hands in his own and brings them up to his mouth. He breathes warmth out onto your shaky hands and rubs his fingers back and forth over the backs of them to create some heating friction.

You watch him care for you with parted lips. It isn’t the first time it’s dawned on you that it must be so. That he must, for some reason, care about you in order to have abandoned his cause in favor of trying to find some kind of safety with you. Nevertheless, each time the thought occurs to you it feels just as foreign and inexplicable as the first time. He’s never done more than hold you, and even then it there’s always been a logical, survival reason for him to do so. Yet here he is, when he could be god knows where instead.

“Hosh,” you utter in vain, as he doesn’t lift his eyes from his careful work warming up your hands. All the while you're certain your cheeks are plenty warm at this point. It’s silly. You’re being silly. At this point, he may only be protecting you just to prevent being alone. With the bridges he’s burned, you might be the only option he sees left. Because for all the moments where he seems this tender and mindful of your needs, you can also make a list of times he’s bristled, held you at a distance or refused to make eye contact with you. “Hoshi,” you say it a little louder. He hums an acknowledgment, and you give a half-hearted tug of your hands in his hold. “Can you let go?”

He complies without protest or hesitation. As the tangle of hands falls away from his face, you see a strange sort of frown on his lips. Almost like Hoshi feels he’s being deprived of something. But the space heater is finally giving off some tangible amount of warmth, and it feels much better to hover your hands in front of it instead. It helps steady your heart rate.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him now. If you do, those pesky gears in your head will only start churning to try to decode whatever look he’s giving you. And he is giving you one; you can feel his eyes on you.

Hoshi has never asked for your name. So why does it occur to you right now that you could simply turn and tell him it? It feels like ages since you’ve said it out loud. A part of you imagines you might stutter over its pronunciation. You shut your eyes. This must be the call of the void, this impulse to do something dangerous and self-destructive based solely on the fact that all you’d need to accomplish it is right there.

You’ve had dreams where he already knows your name. While he’s been cruel in a handful of them, in most he’s whispering it like a holy prayer or panting it against your skin. Really, your mind must be your greatest traitor. You lean forward, beginning to curl in on yourself as you try to push these thoughts to the back of your head.

“Are you alright there, Daydream?” The nickname makes you sigh. He could have just asked if you were okay. But no, of course, he tacks on the moniker just as you're in the midst of contemplating just what might be possible if you shed yourself of it altogether.

“It’s just cold,” you lie. For added effect, you pull the blanket a little tighter around yourself. Silence sinks in once more. You still can’t manage to check on Hoshi’s expression, though at least now you can guess he’s scrutinizing your response.

“You look exhausted,” he reasons after a beat. His hands find your shoulders and upper arms before he guides you towards the bed. Normally he’s better about this; he’s led you plenty of places, but rarely by physical force. While it feels far from forceful in this instance, it bothers some sense of vulnerability rooted deep inside you all the same.

But you are exhausted, and your head is swimming in a thick, confusing stew of thoughts about the man currently shifting blankets around to tuck you into the first proper bed you’ll sleep on in a long time. He’s just about to pull away, to suggest you should just sleep. You can sense it, and suddenly out of all your hazy thoughts one question bubbles to the surface. “Have you ever used someone’s name against them?”

Regret immediately fills you twice over. Once for how taken aback Hoshi looks by the question. Secondly, because his surprise has drawn him to a standstill, half-hovering over you. He’s so close. Too close, you determine as you feel his breath fan out over your face.

“Have you?” he asks in return, dark eyes scanning your features too obviously. You nod weakly and mouth the word once. “Ah,” Hoshi voices at a whisper, “Well, you know what I came from.” Barely, you want to protest. But it does answer your question, however vaguely it may be. “Why are you thinking about that now?”

Your voice feels impossible to summon. He’s still far too close, only inches away from something more intimate and something which would have to be a mistake. When you finally manage to speak, it sounds a thousand miles away to your own ear. “I think I’d tell you if you asked for it.”

Something you can’t pin down colors Hoshi’s face. The very corners of his lips twitch upwards, sending a small worry through you that he knows exactly why you’d say such a thing. His eyes, however, bore into yours with a concern that has your throat drying up. You’re fully dressed and covered in bedding, yet this must be the most exposed you’ve ever felt before him.

“I won’t ask,” he promises. You press your front teeth into the soft flesh of the inside of your lower lip. It sounds too convenient. Everything has gone to hell. It’s simply too good to believe you’ve managed to stumble your way into the company of someone truly didn’t want even the possibility of that power over you. Your disbelief must be evident on your face.

“Hey, I won’t,” repeats Hoshi. There’s a ghost of a laugh on the tail end of his words, good-natured and hopeful that somehow saying the same thing twice will work. It’s the laughter that your mind clings to first, taking it as proof of the sort of person he was before this. Of the sort of person he still is when the world is kind enough to give you some reprieve.

It feels like you’ve pulled off some trick, having managed both to take your risk and keep safe all at once. You release the small gasp of air you’d been holding and feel your shoulders loosen and sink into the mattress beneath you. You press your fingertips into the palms of your hands and find no chill runs through you at the contact. Warm, you think to yourself like you’ve only just remembered the name of this sensation.

Hoshi catches you off guard when he reaches a hand out to your temple. His fingers thread into and push some small section of hair away from your face. Close, still, but your heart does a somersault and now you wish he’d move even closer.

“Will you get some rest now?” he asks you, no longer holding back his small simper as he glances over you.

“You have to, too,” you remind gently. Hoshi blinks at you, appearing surprised once more as he stands up straight, letting distance break the tense need for barely-there volumes. He looks pleasantly surprised by your lack of an answer. Perhaps, you dare yourself to think, it’s because he’s as fascinated by your expressions of care for him as you are by his towards you.

“I know.” Hoshi turns ninety degrees away from you, needing the space just as much as you. He hopes that maybe he’s still flush from the snow anyway, that there’s no way you’ll notice the color rising in him.

It was slow to set in, but it means too much for you to say you’d give him your name. If he’s not careful, if he doesn’t take a few breaths and steps away from your side, he’s afraid he’ll take you up on the offer. If only because even he can recognize how silly it would sound to say I’m falling for you, Daydream.

#seventeen scenarios #hoshi scenarios #kwon soonyoung scenarios

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bisexualamy · 6 years

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hi ren! i think you're so cool and soft at the same time!! how do u do that!! teach me ur ways!!

I’m not sure what you mean by soft in this instance? I’m a little skeptical of soft as an adjective for trans men because I feel like it’s always used to infantilize us (like the uwu cute soft trans boy stuff).

If you mean soft as “in touch with my emotions/emotionally vulnerable” (which I think you do) that is something I can definitely touch on because it is an aspect of my personality I’ve really tried to cultivate. In terms of cool, I don’t really think I’m cool. I appreciate that you think I am! I don’t really known what cool means? Why is one cool? The best analogous thing I can see for it in my own life is “confident” and “does/makes interesting/fun/creative things.”

This is a lot of preamble to get my thoughts out, but I do actually have some advice in both of these instances! I’ll try and be brief, though I probably won’t succeed in that. And like, obvious disclaimer that I’m speaking from my own life experience.

EDIT: very long. All of this is now under cut. This was a good post and I’m happy I wrote it, so thank you! Feel free to reblog it!

IN TERMS OF “COOL”: the best advice I can give to you is put things into the world you care about. This manifests itself for me in the art and writing I produce. I became a lot happier and more confident creating work that I actually cared about existing. I get a lot of joy and drive out of filling voids that I see as necessary to be filled. A concrete example of this has been the work I’ve been doing (that I recently won an award for) in regarding to documenting and creating around the stories of different LGBT people of faith.

And this can be anything! This doesn’t even have to be necessarily “creative” work. There’s joy to be found in STEM fields, like building or doing math or science. It can be cooking or redesigning your bedroom! I find that always having a project to work on, no matter how small, gives me purpose that helps me do the other things in my life that I don’t want to do. Also!!! This doesn’t have to be “original.” I find that a lot of the hangups people get tend to center around filling a void that’s never been touched. My favorite professor I’ve ever had once told me: “don’t worry about doing something original. Just do something well.” I really like that and try and keep that in mind when I create.

I’ve noticed that when you’re working on things you care about it often creates drive, which looks like confidence. In my experience, people think I’m cool because I’m driven to do things I care about. I’m not like, cool in the sense of calm and collected, but I think I’m cool in the sense that I’m interesting. The other bit of advice I have for this is surround yourself with people who you feel safe and supported by. This also goes into soft as well, but your progress as a person is often hindered by unsupportive and harmful environments and people. Those two are often difficult to escape or avoid completely, but building up relationships in your life where you feel safe, where you feel supported, where you feel allowed to make mistakes, were instrumental in building my confidence and giving me the drive to stop settling for “this is the way things are.”

IN TERMS OF “SOFT”: Like I said above, a lot of this comes from being allowed to be soft in the first place. From being in environments and with people that don’t try to squash that softness. For me, I’ve made a conscious effort to be open, to be vulnerable, to be “soft” as you put it. I made this effort because I knew it helped people, and I get a lot of value out of helping people. I’ve been told that my openness about mental health, about emotional vulnerability, about LGBT things, has helped others when I see that I can be open and also succeed. That’s the reason I started this in the first place.

This mentality was very difficult for me to foster initially. I used to be very closed off and have many issues with trust, and I sometimes still do, but I’m working on self awareness. I started small and gradually adopted more and more emotionally honest practices and those grew into larger ones. The overarching theme to these is give yourself permission. Give yourself permission to be happy, to feel your emotions, to be in a world that makes you happy. Here are some of those specific things I worked on (not necessarily in this order):

When someone asks you if you’re okay, or how you are, answer honestly. Unless you’re speaking in passing to someone you don’t really know, answer truthfully. Don’t be afraid to answer “how are you” with “I’m feeling down” or “I’ve had a pretty bad day” or “I’m really angry.” This helped teach me that my emotions aren’t bad. I don’t need to hide them. I just need to be in control of them and know how to regulate them.

When you’re feeling a very intense negative emotion, stop. If you’re very sad, or very angry, don’t do anything. Stay still. Write down what you’re feeling. Talk to someone. Make no decisions in this headspace. Distance is important when assessing your own emotions. Distance will teach you what your reaction is saying. If you get very angry at a friend because they’re late, why? Did the situation hurt you, or is there something larger at play? If it was the situation, you’ll be grateful you didn’t over blow it. If there’s something larger, now you have the calmer headspace to figure out how to fix it.

Let yourself feel bad. I try to be a generally optimistic person, but acknowledging my negative emotions, and not shaming myself for them, really helped me get better control over them. Sometimes you feel shitty! It’s okay to feel shitty! Let yourself feel bad, acknowledge the badness, and then let it go when you’re ready. Don’t let yourself wallow, but don’t suppress your bad emotions. Letting myself feel everything helped me gain confidence in being vulnerable.

Tell someone if they hurt you, even if they didn’t mean it. This is not supposed to be an accusation, but being an open communicator has changed my life. If someone upsets you and you don’t tell them, it may fester and turn into something nasty. I tell my friends that if they have an issue with something I did or said, I want them to tell me so we can talk about it in a calm, open, non-accusatory way. I feel much better once I’ve talked through something that hurt me, because I usually learn the other person’s point of view and it feels less like a slight.

Be upfront about your expectations. People can’t read your mind, and expecting people to is wrong. For example, one of my biggest pet peeves is having my time wasted. There are many people who view meeting times in flux. For them, it’s okay to shift appointments around, to double book, to be a little late. That’s another way of viewing the world. So, if someone is historically late, I might say “I really need you to be on time to this specific event” or set a precedent of “it’s okay if you’re late, but you have to let me know ahead of time that you think you’ll be late so I can account for that.”

Trust your gut. Don’t doubt yourself. Self doubt has always bit me. You can typically get a sense of when something is awry. Don’t be afraid to trust your instincts.

Lay out healthy priorities. I try and prioritize my health and well-being above everything else. If a topic is triggering for me to discuss, if an environment is a significant detriment to my mental health, if someone is hurting me, I try and fix the situation, and if it won’t fix, I leave. From there, my priorities are in flux. Sometimes I prioritize people, sometimes schoolwork, sometimes self care. It depends on the scenario and the time. Prioritizing your health is not the same thing as not doing anything that you dislike, or that makes you uncomfortable. We have to do things we dislike all the time. You know within yourself what’s unhealthy and what’s just unpleasant or annoying.

Learn how to fail. Admit when you’re wrong. I used to have a terrible time admitting I was wrong. If you’re in a healthy environment with decent people, you won’t be shamed for admitting your mistakes. In this way, change your behavior if you’re wrong! I often have unrealistic expectations of people. When that’s been brought to my attention, I’ve adjusted my expectations. Also, I’ve tried to remove “I told you so” from my vocabulary. I don’t shame others for failure. And, understand that partial successes are not failures. 50% successes are okay! Anything is better than zero. Sometimes, you will hit zero. Sometimes, you will fail. Learning how to learn from failure, from not seeing failure as a reflection of my self worth, gave me more freedom to try my hand at creating things I care about. First drafts are supposed to be awful! Just start! Once you start, you can often work off of momentum.

Take time to be introspective and understand yourself. What are your values? What’s important to you? How do you typically respond to certain scenarios? What is something that makes you consistently happy? Sad? Angry? Journal, blog, talk aimlessly into your phone, talk to other people, talk to a therapist if you’re interested. Often, you need to get to know yourself like you’d get to know another person. Once you gain this sense of self, you’ll better understand a lot of what you do, say, and how you react out in the world. For me, this is an ever-evolving process. I change, I grow, and I need to consistently reflect. I think constructive and position self reflection is very important.

I know that was a long list. This took me years and years, and I’m still working on these. The path to emotional softness and regulation is often not linear. Learning to forgive myself, learning how to understand myself, learning to be gentle with myself, was hard. I see a lot of “be gentle to yourself!” positivity on here without any concrete steps are principles. These are a bulk of mine. Employing these steps helped me to foster those safe communities, and be safe in my own vulnerability. Softness tends to follow work and action.

#hailing frequencies open #advice ask #you may reblog #feel free to send follow up questions!#Anonymous

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retphienix · 7 years

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Usually I spend this final post talking at length about every part of the game, and sure this will be a lengthy post but honestly? This game gave me something to talk about at every turn. I've already said it all, and don't really see a reason in repeating myself here beyond summing things up.

The final boss was... fine.

Honestly that's about how I'd rank her. She was fine. Multiple forms, some deadly attacks. If this was any other RPG I'd say she was "fine", but it's worth mentioning that "fine" in FF8 is nearly god-tier because every encounter is usually utter garbage.

She even managed to kill me once because I got a bad trio and remained cocky, resulting in two dying and Squall (my third) sitting at 1000 HP using his Limit Break instead of healing.

I lost because of my ego on that one, but she gets the credit I suppose.

The story throughout was usually passable. I feel it was stronger at the start, was performed better towards the middle (with things like the garden battle and space scene which still ranks as my favorite moment in the game), and obviously dumb at the end because the weak plot points from the middle become the main emphasis.

It feels like some of the plot was left at first drafts or written by different people without consulting each other, and it's annoying to follow.

Like the GF memory issue brought up in the orphanage scene was, in my opinion, totally fine! It would have been MORE fine if it CONTINUED to be important to the story.

If GFs ended up being the reason Edea turned evil through brain rot, and the final boss ended up being the GF inside of her, I'd be saying the story was pretty decent to good!

Instead they latched onto possession which was unbelievably stupid and only made worse by saying it's not just possession, it's FUTURE possession.

At that it was still "passable, but disappointing" to me, because I much prefer expanding on the GF idea. But it just got worse!

All of a sudden the reason Ultimecia is doing this is revealed and it's just dumb.

Time Compression means nothing! It's a plot device with no form! It has no reasoning, it has no real world equivalent, it MEANS nothing and we're never given the slightest hint as to WHY she wants this or even WHAT this is.

If you would have said she was evil because evil is cool I'd be more forgiving, but this plot point and LITERAL GOAL of the antagonist means NOTHING.

The characters started out as cardboard and slowly became actual characters (with some exceptions who merely became decorated cardboard).

I started this game utterly amazed that such an unlikable character was made the main protagonist, but as it's wrapping up I must admit I like Squall and friends.

Squall explained why he was a little craphead and has begun (and in some cases succeeded in) growing out of it and becoming a better person who's willing to trust.

Rinoa becomes much more serious compared to her reveal in the plot and towards the end she's a key part in major plans necessary to defeat Ultimecia instead of just dipping her toe into making a change.

Irvine mostly just goes from acting like a playboy to fawning over Selphie. There's a little more to it, but not as much as I wanted from him.

Zell mostly just becomes a more emphasized version of himself, and that's fine too, but he's in the same boat as Irvine.

Selphie remains pretty much unchanged, but at least she gets a little backstory with Trabia in which I became curious if she's always been a beacon of optimism or if Trabia made her into one. Saaaame boat.

Quistis only gets any characterization at the very beginning with her getting fired from her position, and a small bit when her infatuation with Squall is explained to be a misinterpretation of forgotten emotions. She's "interesting", but she got the least out of everyone here. She's not only in the same boat as the majority of the main cast, she's captain of the sucker.

The characters are arguably the weakest part if you ignore the god-awful gameplay, but I ended up liking them more than this writeup implies.

I LIKE Squall and Rinoa and hope they enjoy each other's company.

I LIKE Irvine and Selphie for being who they are and wish the same.

I LIKE Zell as a character, and I WANT to know more about Quistis.

That's a pretty big difference from Disc 1 where I generally didn't like anything that was going on.

The gameplay is TRASH~~~~

I've said so many things on it, so I'll leave it at just this.

They innovated in a lot of ways. They added a lot of things. They tried to emphasize a feature that was extremely well received in 7 (summon animations) but they just messed everything up.

Features either ruin balance or ruin another feature. Half the features work against each other. Most of the features appear to have been developed in bubbles without knowing or testing with other features.

Some features exist for very specific reasons like enhancing world exploration, but they just don't work. (That being enemies leveling with you, as it unbalances literally every boss and it makes leveling in itself counter productive to getting stronger.) While others are solutions to non-problems, like replacing loot with draw spots (lowering the excitement value).

It's bad. Like really bad.

And if the best thing I can say about the gameplay is either "On paper it's interesting" or "You can skip most of it by using this broken feature to negate all the rest" or "Just throw Encounter-None on and never fight again", then I don't think I need to explain how bad it is.

As for the ending itself, my interpretation is pretty definite and good enough for me.

Squall gets lost in the compression and, as Ultimecia hinted towards, it begins to delete him from existence.

Earlier in the game they say the safest way to make it through the compression is to believe in each other and keep their bonds and relationships in mind at all times because they don't belong in that time so time will try to erase them if nothing IN that time is bound to them (so stand together or vanish apart).

Since Squall is bad at that kind of thing, he gets lost. When he gets lost he begins to doubt because he has a history of losing everyone around him, and when he doubts he begins to be deleted by time itself.

The memory loops and distortions are that process happening in his brain as it not only began because he failed to hold onto his friends, it makes it harder to rebound because it deletes all those memories in the first place.

Once it finally deletes his memories we get that meme'd up void face and he falls back and sheds a tear, a husk of a man. This is cemented by the feather he caught falling easily to the ground as if it had fallen straight through him.

Squall is gone.

Follow that by Rinoa refusing to give up and proving this is a two way street, just because Squall failed to believe in everyone strongly enough doesn't mean she can't do it for the both of them. She believes so hard he comes back, the end.

I gave it a less than serious tone towards the end there, but in all truth I'm serious in my interpretation.

Continuing beyond just Squall's freakout, I liked the ending. It suited the goals we all had and it showed some MUCH. NEEDED. CHARACTERIZATION- that would have been fantastic to experience in the core game! *cough*

They got to choose when they went back to, so Laguna chose to go back to marry Raine and lived up to this current time again?! THAT'S GOOD STUFF.

Irvine being Irvine in ways I WISH were in the main game because LOOK AT HIM. HE'S BEING A TOTAL DORK AND I LOVE HIM FOR IT.

Zell choking like the dork he is and then immediately starting a fight, just FANTASTIC stuff there that I wish there was more of.

Selphie and Quistis showing that they care about their friends through the traditional "Save you from choking and mock you for it" way.

Selphie even stole Irvine's hat. It wasn't much, but if she did more "silly" things like that we might have had an excuse to understand her more and get more character out of her. The most I recall is singing on trains and hijacking the Ragnarok, that’s not enough.

There are so many little good things in this game overshadowed by miles of poorly thought out mechanics and glossing over details in the story that shouldn't be, or deciding to follow through with unbelievably bad plot points.

I WANT this to be better because some of it IS good.

But I would be lying through my teeth if I said that all made up for the gameplay. The only reason I’m remotely singing these praises is because (ironically) it’s so broken you can ignore 90% of the gameplay and just play through the ridiculous story to find the good bits.

In the end though. I'm happy.

If you would have told me beating FF8 would make me happy as a kid, I'd have believed you because I liked it then.

If you would have told me this when I was wrapping up disc 1 I'd have called you a liar.

But here I am.

I'm happy with the end result, despite the poor turns the story took, despite the lack of sufficient characterization for the main cast, despite the TERRIBLE TERRIBLE gameplay, I'm content and happy with this.

And now I know so much about the inner workings of this piece of garbage that I could probably beat it in no time flat with almost no fighting outside of boss fights. lol.

#RetPlays #FF8 #Final Fantasy #Final Fantasy 8

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nico-in-space · 7 years

Text

Sunny/Bright/Winter/Night

This is an original story of mine that I’m working on. I figured I could post the rough drafts online so I could get probable feedback on them! :) They’ll just escape into the void of Tumblr, so it’s not like it really matters, but I’m putting myself out there anyway, just for the hell of it.

Summary: For each situation, there are at least a hundred different perspectives. Naturally, when the aliens invade Earth, there are a few different perspectives on that event. One is in favor of the operation. It will, in the end, benefit Earth's prosperity, and add more diversity to the already incredibly advanced ecosystem. Another couldn't care less if aliens are invading. She's currently in the process of writing her application for MIT. It's not going so great. Also, she just had a MASSIVE fight with her best friend, who's been unusually grouchy lately. What's up with that? Not that it really matters, at this point. Now, what to study next... One wishes that the aliens would beam her up, as she's feeling lost, alone, and depressed for many, many current reasons. But maybe she's been feeling like that for longer. Another has been trying, fruitlessly, to defend Earth from the eventual capture of its people, but really wishes she had a helping hand in her project. Her co-workers don't seem to understand that a battle cannot be won with only force. You need knowledge, too, which is something she has quite enough of, thank you. How do their stories intertwine? Find out in Sunny/Bright/Winter/Night.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad here! I update there more regularly. :)

CODENAME: AGENT S1143

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. It protests at the action, squeaking unpleasantly, the sound reverberating in the large domed room that my cubicle, along with many others, is situated. I'm done working for the day, finally. It always feels like my work is never-ending, but my job is important, at least in the eyes of the Overseer.

I flex my feet, hearing the joints crack. Us menial workers "run the show," according to the many posters hung up around the satellite base. We are the backbone that run the hypothetical "body" of the Earth Mission #024. At least, that's what the Overseer tells us to make us feel better.

My work consists of an infinite amount of paperwork. Well, fairly recently in terms of history we've gone digital, so it's all computerized work. My older co-workers often complain about the supposed "laziness" of folk my age because we never had to sort physical paperwork like they did. It's really fucking annoying, to be honest. But I digress. My job is basically to scan over the documents which detail, in exactness, the birth of a Human, and all their medical "traits." I run the document through diagnostics to make sure there are no glitches. It's just some debug program, one that I could probably program myself if I had the desire, but I'd probably get in trouble with my Local Leader. As much as I don't give a literal fuck what my Local Leader thinks, I don't feel like being electrocuted to death anytime soon. After the document goes through diagnostics, I click the confirm button, and the next document pops up. It's all I live for, basically.

It's menial; almost an insult to my intellect. I pride myself on being a fairly smart Ki'golian these days, though I was fairly rebellious in my youth, and didn't spend much time at the Academy. I preferred to spend my time in more...lucrative ways.

I get up, rubbing my shoulders. Terror above, they're sore... What I wouldn't give for a sauna in this damn place. Not like I'd ever be able to use something like that, as a folk of my status.

Feeling rather sour, I leave the Dome to head to my apartment. I swipe my card, entering my apartment Block, then find my room number and swipe to enter that. Alone at last. I recline on my bed, looking out the small window to the view of Earth. The planet is large, and I am currently viewing the Pacific Ocean. It's the largest one, which is the only way I can remember it. It's incredibly blue, even covered with clouds, and I find that I can't look away. The sun's light reflects on it even from my vantage point, though the clouds cover most of it, swirling gently, circularly. Actually seeing it in person is kind of a shock to me still. I've done boring work before, in boring places, so I figured the Earth Mission, when they reached out to me, would be no different. But the scenery, at least, is incredibly extravagant, even if the pay isn't.

...it really is a beautiful planet. I suppose there are things that don't have a monetary value. Scenery like this, I suppose, can be counted as one of them.

-----

GAMER-ID: BETATESTER 112

"Dammit!" Tasha exclaimed, slamming her controller on the ground. Next to her, her friend Leila yelled in success, punching the air with fervor. She was at Leila's house, playing video games with her together after school. The room was brightly lit, and Leila's screen was massive. It was a video gamer's heaven.

"Fuck, Leila, you're way too good at games. Seriously," Tasha groaned, rubbing her temples. She continued, "you'd be real good in the robotics club. I could use a friend there."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Leila reiterated, setting down her controller and pulling a hair tie off her wrist, using it to pull up her hair. Tasha couldn't help but watch the motion, watched Leila's tan, toned arms as she fixed her hair. "You hate that the guys there think your sexuality's a challenge." Tasha blinked, focusing back on Leila's face.

"You think the teacher's wishy-washy for letting that shit happen. But you want to go to college for Rocket Science, so you're sticking with it anyway." Leila scoffed. "If I were you, I would'a quit the moment one of 'em started hitting on me."

"Not all of us have a career in lucrative hobbies, Leila. I gotta work for that future degree, y'know?" Tasha grumbled, annoyed. "Which means I have to be in a shit ton of clubs, even ones I'm...less fond of, and I've gotta do well in my classes, so that MIT might even consider me. I just wanted a little more support, that's all I was asking. It's not that hard to join a-"

"Stop." Leila's voice was tight. Her shoulders had tensed up. Tense herself, Tasha leveled her gaze at Leila, not about to back down now.

Outside, a bird trilled. Leila's robotic butler rolled to its charging dock and hooked itself on, shutting down for a quick nap, it seemed.

Leila scoffed.

Tasha blinked.

"Video gaming is hard work, okay! It's an actual skill."

Tasha glared at Leila. Leila was changing the topic again, like she always did when Tasha brought up her tendency to slack off.

"No, it's not," she responded, annoyed with herself for encouraging this particularly irksome behavior of Leila's.

"Fuck you. It is," Leila growled, giving Tasha the respective finger.

Tasha groaned, frustrated, throwing her hands up in the air. This is how their conversations have been going lately, and Tasha can pinpoint it starting during the week that Tasha and their mutual friend Akane began casually dating, three months ago. Ever since then, for whatever reason, Leila has been really tough to be around, especially with applications for college starting up this month.

Tasha knew Leila was sensitive about her grades in school. No matter how much Tasha tried to reassure her it was just a letter, it didn't mean anything towards her intellect, it was still a touchy subject with her, for whatever reason. Leila wasn't planning on going to college, and college was all Tasha could think about. It was, in hindsight, a recipe for disaster.

"You know what," she began, getting up from her seat. "I'm getting a little tired of your attitude, Leila."

Tasha grimaced, before flicking her off. She hated to do it, but Leila seriously needed a taste of her own medicine."Wait, Tasha," Leila whined, but it was too late.

Tasha had walked out of the door.

Tasha strode purposefully to her car, parked in front of the Horton's mansion. Leila was just another nobody who spent all their time gaming. A nobody who had once been special to Tasha, but not anymore. Tasha had bigger things on her plate, and that plate didn't have room for Leila's rich girl problems.

Tasha gunned the engine, tasting the delicious feeling of knowing that Leila, right now, had heard that, and was probably upset.

It was almost like freedom.

-----

LEILA

She yearned after those Saturday nights spent drinking strawberry lemonade and watching the clouds, sun bright, in her eyes, in Tasha's eyes, the bright summer sky turning everything a shade of gold. Flittering, fluttering, old dandelion fluff from spring still in the air, making her nose itch.

She loved to watch as the white puffs blew in the slight breeze. She wished, oh God, did she wish, that she could fly like them, free, warmed by the sun, dancing against the wind.

And when she looked into Tasha's warm hazel eyes, she was part of the way there.

But all she felt now was the deepest chill, winter's chill creeping up her bones and settling in her spine. It froze her. She couldn't move, as her dearest friend and one-sided lover walked away, for what looked like the last time.

-----

DIARY LOG 10/10/40

Today's mission went pretty rough. Those damned beasts keep making the chase harder. I keep hacking into their mainframe to try and disable their cloaking device, but they change the security every time. And it's always so God...damned convoluted. Ugh, I have the worst fucking headache right now. Boss keeps telling me I need lasik, or contacts, or even old-fashioned glasses, but there's no time for that. Not when I'm the only hacker on the Resistance team. We really need to get someone else who can program. Jesus.

End log.

#nicowrites #sbwn #original story #original character

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