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porphyriosao3 · 2 years

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#6 Sweet Treats

A cold wind whipped through the tent where Bilbo knelt, deft fingers checking the pulse and flipping back covers to examine bandages. Thorin and Kili were recovering but Fili... wasn't. Somehow. After their journey together, Bilbo felt like the young dwarf was his own family by now; with a brief flush, he remonstrated with himself that it had absolutely nothing to do with how he might feel about the boy's actual uncle. Kili and Thorin had suffered massive wounds, but their flesh knit back together like nothing the hobbit had ever seen; Fili, though... Fili just sort of lingered. His leg had been broken and was set. That part seemed straightforward enough. He had any number of small cuts and minor stab wounds, all of which were healing nicely. The issue was that he had hit his head when he fell. That, Oin said, was worrying. Even more worrying (though not spoken aloud) was the length of time he had been out. They were on the third day, and Oin had been reduced to dripping water into his mouth with a rag. Past a certain point, the young dwarf’s body would die anyway, no matter how healthy the rest of him was.

"Oh Fili," Bilbo sighed, having checked all the signs and found the usual nothing. "Won't you wake up?" There was, of course, no response. He took one enormous hand in the both of his, reflecting for what seemed the thousandth time on how huge the dwarves hands seemed compared to the rest of them. "I'll... I'll make you anything you want? You know I can cook, you certainly ate enough of my food in my house." He felt silly saying it, but continued speaking, describing all sorts of foods he had made and trying to lure the young dwarf back to consciousness through hunger if nothing else. After a few minutes he was stunned when Fili shivered and actually moved. Gummy eyes fought to open, and he groaned. Bilbo shouted urgently for Oin.

"Wan'..." he said, trying to move and being restrained by a hobbit. "Wan' burûmpí." The sounds of Thorin bellowing to know what was going on were a familiar counterpoint by now.

"Fili my lad," said a grinning hobbit, "I don't know what that is but I will go to Valinor itself to get it for you if I have to. Welcome back."

"Bombur, just the dwarf I was looking for!" Bilbo said, startling the heavy dwarf as he examined a pot in what was about to be the camp kitchen. This room had been the communal kitchen for one of the barracks near the gate, and the stove had a stack of fresh firewood from somewhere. Cooking gear that had survived or been scavenged from who knew where in the mountain sat around in various states of repair, ranging from usable to scrap metal. Some reborn kingdom, Bilbo sighed; they were lucky to have running water, no matter how many stories Thorin told of the technical and mechanical marvels of the place before the dragon came. Still, he supposed, it was still better than a campfire in the hallway. Somewhere to start, after all.

"Master Baggins," Bombur said with a shy smile. "I'm afraid I don't have any food cooked at the moment, but..." Bilbo shook his head; good heavens, are we back to this, then?

"Bombur," he said in a disbelieving tone, "after all we've been through, are we really back to Master Baggins? Good heavens," he flopped down with a sigh on a nearby stool, ignoring the other dwarf's broadening grin. "I apologize for whatever I did, and I assure you I didn't mean it when I did it or even know about it! Master Baggins indeed!"

"Well, you are courting the king," he said, picking up the pot again and eyeing it. "Trash," he sighed sadly, throwing it into a heap of useless pans by the door. "Most of this cookware isn't fit to serve pigs in after almost 200 years."

"Regardless of who I may be courting, gossip hound," Bombur guffawed at that, "we are companions and I will not have you referring to me like I'm some sort of, of bill collector, showing up round your door! Hmph," he grumped, eyes dancing.

"As you wish, as you wish," Bombur chortled, "so what brings you to the kitchens? If you've actually got any food to deliver to me, I may have to fight Thorin because I think I'll fall in love with you on the spot." Bilbo pushed down that mental image; the dwarf he had was quite enough, thanks, even if Bombur was quite the catch by Shire standards.

"Afraid not," Bilbo sighed, "but tell me... what is brumpee?" At Bombur's blank look, he said "Some sort of dwarven food, I'd imagine, maybe a dessert?"

"Ahhh, you mean burûmpí!" Bombur beamed at Bilbo. "Where did you hear of that?"

"Well, you see, it's sort of a funny story," Bilbo said with a weak smile. As he told the story to Bombur, the other dwarf nodded.

"Ah, well, that makes sense. Burûmpí is a pain to make, and it's not something we had often in the Blue Mountains; no wonder the boy has such fond memories of it. He and his brother loved their sweets! Apparently they still do." Bombur examined a skillet, testing the handle to see if it was still attached properly, then grunted and set it on the stove.

"So what's in it?" Bilbo was forced to ask, and Bombur looked upwards to remember.

"Well... basically it's a sort puff pastry bundle stuffed with honeyed almonds with a sweet sauce over it. The pastry is pretty straightforward, but the sauce takes for bloody ever to make and needs someone to stand with it. It's made of raw sugar, goat milk and some spices and you have to watch it to make sure it's not boiling, not skimming up, not curdling..." Bilbo nodded but laughed inside. Sounded like every custard he had ever made! Keep the heat even, that's the trick. But Bombur was still talking. "There's a knack to it, for sure, and then you have to cook it juust the right amount. It thickens as it cools, so if you're not careful it will be a lovely consistency when hot and then when it cools you've just got a sticky toffee pudding... not quite the same thing, you see?"

"I do see," Bilbo said slowly, "but nevertheless I've made a promise. Do you have the ingredients here?" Bombur's snort of disbelief answered that question.

"Mas... Bilbo, I've barely got firewood. We've some fresh venison the hunters brought in, some seriously dodgy potatoes and fish from the Laketowners, and that's about it. Anything you can find food-wise, I'd appreciate it. I have three dwarves who are supposed to be helping me cook, but there's not enough to cook to justify them being here. Dain's army runs on cram and salt pork, so that's something I suppose, but no, I've got none of it here." Well, the hobbit sighed, nothing good was ever easy.

Two weeks later and Bilbo had assembled the ingredients. They had turned up a giant cask of raw sugar in the ruins of some storehouse or other, so that was easy enough, just needed to be repowdered. Of the other ingredients, some had involved clever bargaining (almonds from one of Thranduil's camp cooks), some begged favors (honey from Beorn), some an argument and a... possible recurrence of burglarish tendencies while invisible (soft wheat from Dain's camp), but everything was assembled, except for one thing. One ingredient was missing still.

Where in the bloody world was he going to find a nanny goat?

Beorn laughed and said that he could "give little bunny enough milk to drown in” if he were at home, but of course, he wasn't, and home was far enough away that (even if Bilbo were selfish enough to ask for such a thing, which he emphatically was not) there was no way to make the trip at any speed fast enough to keep the milk from spoiling. The elves didn't keep livestock beyond chickens, as best he could tell; Laketown's animals were the most likely of all the denizens not to have escaped the dragon's rampage, the fires, and all the ensuing catastrophe. Dain had many goats, it was true, but they were war mounts, not food, and the chances of one of them being nursing while on a battlefield were essentially the same as Smaug returning from the dead and giving milk himself (itself? Did dragons... irrelevant, he thought grimly). It took six full days of tramping about, helping and talking and advising and asking (always asking) before he finally located a nursing goat, a clean pail, and the permission of the owner. Thorin was becoming very irritated and (Bilbo worried) was beginning to suspect that he had a sweetheart elsewhere since he was visiting so little. But at last... at last... he had his milk.

Finally.

Making his weary way back to Bombur's kitchen (by now all a-clatter with cooking dwarves, since the first of Dain's food shipments had rolled in) he noticed more dwarves were showing up by the day. Dodging a young apprentice hauling a tray of proofing loaves, Bilbo finally found Bombur quartering a deer with brutal efficiency in the back are of the kitchen that had been designated as the butchery for now. "I have everything," he said. Bombur barely looked up as the cleaver whacked through flesh, gristle and bone at the joint.

"If you aren't the luckiest one in this mountain, Bilbo Baggins, I'm a goblin," Bombur laughed, peeling off piece after piece and setting it in a large tub. "Come by tomorrow and we'll set to work. Oh," he said as Bilbo was finally walking away. "I think you should know, before you fix too many of them... Thorin doesn't like burûmpí. He's not much of one for most sweets." Tiny bright eyes peered up at the hobbit from under auburn brows. "He is mighty fond of apples, though, and look over there." A firkin of dried apples made Bilbo grin ear to ear. Dried or not, this was something he could use.

The next morning he helped the dwarves send food out as best he could, shifting the loaves of hot bread to the cooling racks and then to the baskets to go out, bowling up stew and setting it on trays which were whisked away as fast as he could fill them. It seemed they would never be done, but finally the runners slowed, the demand trickled out and they all sat down with a bowl of stew and some bread themselves for a kitchen meal. Now, Bilbo thought grimly. The real work begins.

By the time the afternoon had arrived, Bilbo had derived an absolute certainty of two things. One was that he loved Thorin and his nephews very, very much. He must. The other was that he was never, ever fixing burûmpí again, no matter who asked, unless it was literally a life or death situation. Despite Bombur's casual assurance, the puff pastry packets were beyond fiddly, and the flour that they were using was hardly the fine stuff he would have gotten from Sandyman back home, triple-sifted and clean. No, this was just soft emmer ground in a quern, and he wasn't sure it was going to work at all until an initial test showed that it would grudgingly rise if baked. The filling was the only part that wasn't fiddly, just a standard mix of almonds and honey. The packets though... Bilbo sighed. Wrapping them was (of bloody course) done in a particular way, and with a particular shape, according to a particular formula, because bloody dwarves. While they were baking in the pastry oven Bilbo squared his shoulders and went to begin The Sauce. The hobbit had begun to think of it in capital letters by about the third or fourth lurid warning from Bombur of times he had seen it go wrong.

He set the milk into a polished iron pan on gentle heat, dumping in the sugar and spices. The next step was very strange; he mixed some substance the dwarves used to leaven bread when they didn't have yeast with water, watching it dissolve like salt (though it didn't taste of salt, or of anything really). This was the first challenge, Bombur had said. He brought the milk just to a boil, then moved the heavy pan over to add the mixed water and whatever-it-was. The milk immediately started to boil over in great piles of froth, and he stirred frantically until it settled down. Fairly soon it showed no sign of its recent upset, and he sighed and put the milk back on the heat. Bombur grinned and nodded from where he was slashing the tops of meat pies at the next bench.

Now, he stirred. And stirred. And stirred. When the pastries were ready, one of the apprentices staged him so he could remove them from the ovens to cool. Bilbo was able to rest occasionally, but even so he felt like he had been beaten by orcs. After two hours the milk had reduced, darkened and thickened; a delicious heavy, sweet smell was rising from it. Bombur nodded. "You've got it. Take it off now." Bilbo was so tired he was almost too weak to shift the iron pot, but the other cook helped him ease it off to the side. "One more step, let's strain it to get any lumps out and also to catch those spices if they aren't dissolved," Bombur muttered, and at Bilbo's despairing look he grinned and hoisted the heavy pan with one hand, pouring the mixture through a cheesecloth into a bowl. "There you are," he said. "Beautifully done, Bilbo. If I'd ever doubted your skill in a kitchen, I never will again - even most dwarves would be hard pressed to make burûmpí right the first time, but you seem to have managed. Are you sure I can't interest you in a place in the kitchens?" Snorting, Bilbo pretended to throw his ladle at Bombur and the whole kitchen laughed uproariously.

Plating it up, he fetched the loaf of apple bread he had made for a certain surly, handsome king. Setting all the dishes on a tray leftover from meal service he set the apple bread discreetly behind the two plates of burûmpí . Stepping outside, he passed down the various halls with the tray until he had reached Oin's rooms of healing. He hadn't been there when the royals had been brought in, but he had heard several tales of how they had all been instructed (often at top volume by a very surly Oin) to rest and recover. He could hear the princes chattering as he walked up. As he went through the door the voices all fell silent. "What is that?" Fili asked softly.

"Did... did someone make burûmpí ?" Kili asked with eyes like moons. Thorin cut his eyes at Bilbo, taking in the exhausted and disheveled state of the usually dapper hobbit and the light of understanding dawned on his face. He was smiling as broadly as Bilbo had ever seen, though the corners of his mouth turned down a bit when he saw the tray.

"Fili," Bilbo said softly. "When you were knocked out, I told you I would make you anything you wanted if you would just come back to us. You did. And you asked for burûmpí . I had never heard of it, but Bombur told me how to make it, and so here it is. You kept your side of the bargain, my boy, and now I have kept mine. And I expect you to stay healthy and awake for a long time now, because I'm not making this again." The hobbit was grinning, as were the princes, but when Bilbo looked over at Thorin the king looked poleaxed; Bilbo hadn't told him of his bedside promise to the prince. When each of the younger dwarves grabbed a plate with exclamations of delight (which quickly turned into groans of happiness), the loaf of apple bread was revealed.

"What's this?" Thorin asked, still looking confounded. "Did you promise something to me as well when I was unconscious?" Bilbo went over and pressed a kiss into his beard, making the princes roll their eyes (luckily their mouths were full).

"Yes," Bilbo said with a small smile. "In the Shire, making sweets for someone is a courting present." He set the loaf of apple bread in front of the king, who was staring into his eyes. "Needless to say, I'm not courting Fili, but..." He grinned, and Thorin gave a small smile in return. Tearing off a piece of the loaf the king ate it and sighed. "Good?" The hobbit asked. Thorin's response was to kiss Bilbo and fill his mouth with the taste of sweet apples. Now this, he thought with a sigh, cuddling up against the king. This is a sweet treat indeed.

#bilbo #thorin #bagginshield #fotfics #fotfictober #how did I end up with a 3k drabble #someone stop me

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ererokii · 3 years

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Warmth of your Touch || Eren Jaeger

➳ Eren Jaeger x Fem Reader

Word Count: 4K Warnings: contains spoilers from season three Taglist: @jaegerbomb20 @sleepysnk (message to be on it in the future)

➳ Note: This is from my canceled december event and it was just laying around in my drafts, i might start posting more of those! Also ignore the typos and such, this is HEAVILY UNEDITED.

The members of the Survey Corps couldn’t remember the last time they let loose and had fun. Around here, everyone was on their tiptoes, waiting for any enemy to strike. Really, all of humanity was like this. But the Scout Regiment was the first line of defense, and they always went underground first before anyone else.

Many casualties swept over the brigade. The return to Shinganshina hit hardest. With the Beast Titan arrival and the fight put up by the Colossal and the Armored inflicted more damage than any group of titans could. With the death of Commander Erwin, and the retrieval of Reiner by the Cart Titan and Zeke, it wasn’t right. With the soldiers returning back home, it was quiet. No one dared to speak another word.

Only 20 or less able bodies made it back home to their families and were lucky enough to see the rays of the sun and breathe in the air that the Earth gave them. Too bad others were left on that battlefield on that day, their bodies becoming one with mother nature once more.

The days slowly but surely started to get shorter as summer turned to fall. The colors of the leaves changed for the season, right on time. The hot sticky air turned to crisp, and more damp. The sky let out it’s tears and covered the earth with grey blankets more often. The sun was hiding behind the clouds, as the fluffy white shapes overtook the sky. The rays barely peeked through them, unable to give light for the day.

With the help of Eren’s new hardening technique, he was able to make a new weapon that saved many soldiers from here on out. Hanji was enraptured about it. This experiment, that was a success, was all she could speak about. Nothing else mattered in her mind, and Captain Levi knew that as well.

Eren was pushed to the brim with this. Day after day, night after night, the boy was exhausted. They pushed him beyond his limits for the technique. Sometimes, he was in and out of consciousness. His titan form decreased in size, his bones would crack upon another transformation to the point where he couldn’t even stabilize himself with his own legs that had the width of twigs.

Fall soon turned over for the year and gave the duty of the seasons to Winter. Winter came rather hard, and quick at that. The harsh winds sent chills up and down the soldiers' spines as they paid their respects to their fallen comrades. An assortment of bouquets were placed in front of the many grey stones that represented a daughter, a son, a father or a mother.

The dirt underneath the boots of the breathing was moist from the rain. The crunches of leaves was the only noise that rang in a soldier’s ears, despite the sobs from others.

Eren couldn’t help but carry the burden. He felt as if it was his fault for their deaths. Their sacrifices, only to keep him alive and well. Humanity’s Last Hope. With the newfound memories from his father, he knew that everything laid in his hands.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

The seasons passed as they always did. Life in the walls became busy once more. In a year, the Scouts were able to wipe all the leftover titans in Wall Maria. This meant old residents of this wall were able to return to their homes and start all over again. There was nothing wrong with that, but it meant that the fight for their land was over.

Everyone seemed to show gratitude towards the Scouts. At first, they hated the soldiers who would risk their life to put an end to the Titans reign of power. Called them ‘fat pigs who lived off of our hard working money’. Many soldiers of course took offense to this, but decided to stay silent. After all, they were right about the hard working money. Their earnings were the only things that allowed them to have the supplies they needed to survive.

Winter approached once more to the soldiers of the Survey Corps. Adjustments were made as they needed to happen. Hanji, was appointed as the new Commander of the regiment. The news of humans being Titans spread like wildfire between every man and woman in the walls. The children stayed oblivious.

The outside word began to shine brighter if possible. The world was rid of the filth that the Titans had left behind. The grass was able to dance in the wind as flowers began to grow from the soil. Animals were able to come out from years of terror, finally realizing they were free. Even though the man eating creatures weren’t attracted to animals, the sight of any being over an average height could place fear into the hearts of anyone, including living creatures.

The gust of wind blew against the windows of the rooms in the headquarters. Despite everything being closed, the nooks and crannies were able to fill the once warm shelter, making it cold and gloomy.

The Levi squad, that consisted of those left over from the battle at Shinganshina, were put to cleaning duty. Of course, that’s what you guys always did when Captain Levi felt it was time for a new cleaning, which was about every other day.

Currently, you got stuck in a room with Sasha and Connie. Your job was to clean the room, wipe the shelves, mop the floor, wipe the desk that was in there, make sure to sweep the room as well. It was a lot of tasks for a room that was meant for one person.

A hum vibrated in your throat as you stood on your tiptoes, using a rag that was given to you by the Captain, to clean the upper shelves. It wasn’t even that dirty. You would give it at least another few days before it needed to be cleaned. It was like Levi had a secret eye for spotting microscopic dust particles. It was absurd to say the least.

Behind you were the other two, Connie and Sasha. They did do their work! They actually helped, but for some reason they decided nothing to. You could hear their giggles and the clanging of their broomsticks knocking against each other. The buckets getting knocked over with dirty water didn’t help either but hey, if they got in trouble that was on them. Least you were doing your part.

Maybe you could laugh from your room as you watched them run until their legs fell off, begging for mercy as the hot sun burned against their backs. It always amused you when the Lieutenant stared up at them, unamused.

You flinched when you heard Sasha let out a screech and a cry of anguish discharged from Connie’s mouth.

“What are you guys doing?” you questioned as you swiveled on your heel, turning to face them. Connie’s ass had met the floor, a hand against the floor to keep him upright and the other on top of his head. Sasha on the other hand, still had her arms raised in the air, a look of revelating shock on her features. They seemed to be playing ninjas again by the way Sasha had her leg up and bent in a right angle.

“She hit me, that's what she did!” Connie abruptly stated, looking up at the two girls in front of him. “You promised not to hit me! I never hit you!”

“It was an accident Connie! Your head just happened to come into contact with my hand! It wasn’t intentional, honest!”

“What’s going on in here?”

Your eyes widened as you held the wooden stick with a vice like grip to your chest. Your heart began to beat a bit faster than usual. Your posture straightened up as you turned around to look at the short man.”C-Captain Levi!”

The said man looked up at you, then turned his head to Sasha and lowered his gaze to Connie, who was still on the floor. No words were exchanged as he took a step back, realizing the mess that occurred. The cleaning supplies were scattered across the floor, the mop and brooms were on the floor instead of the hands of Sasha and Connie, and not to mention the dirty water was spilled and engraved into the rugs. Yeah, they were in deep shit.

Without warning, Levi made a ‘come forth’ motion with his index finger, to the pair, glancing his silvery eyes to your stiff body. “Keep cleaning, I’ll make Eren come help you.”

“Yes sir!” you saluted him as fast as you could, internally shaking as the three of them walked out of the messy room. As soon as they left, you could hear yelling from the corridor and their terrified squeaks.

A huff escaped your lips as you bent over, picking up the spare cleaning supplies. Looks like it would be awhile until someone else came to help you.

He said Eren right?

At the name of the boy, your face heated up as you shook your head rapidly, ignoring any thoughts of them. It was often that the brunette invaded your unconscious mind and overtook every crevice of it. His eyes were absolutely beautiful. They had to be your favorite part of him, besides his personality. The way the irises shined in the sunlight, the rays giving them an ethereal look. His lashes complimented them. They weren’t long, but they weren’t short. Whenever he stared at you, you swore you could just lose yourself in them.

His appearance was changing. His hair became longer and rested at the base of his neck. His shoulders began to broaden as he got a bit taller as the year passed. His loud mouth quieted down as he became more realistic with his goals. He was still the same driven boy you met three years ago.

“Hey.”

Your jaw slacked as you looked over your shoulder. Eren was standing in the door frame, as he looked down upon you. It took you a second to realize what position you were in, on your hands and knees with your back facing him. Scrambling off the floor, you swiftly fixed the shirt and pants of your uniform. “H-Hi Eren!”

Fuck you probably embarassed yourself in front of your own crush. He probably thought you were a weirdo.

“Hi Y/N,” he spoke calmly and walked into the room, brushing a strand of brown hair out of his face as he placed a hand on the desk, using it as leverage to crouch and grab a mop. “They made a big mess huh?”

“Yeah they did..they always manage to get themselves in trouble. Kinda shocked..how they lasted this long in the Levi Squad.”

An amused noise came from Eren as he looked out the window, squinting his eyes. Without speaking, he advanced forward to the glass and moved the curtain out of the way. “Well would you look at that..”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s snowing,” he muttered and took a step back, letting the drapes loose from his hands. “Wonder how they’ll get punished.”

“No way it’s snowing?” you asked, ignoring his last words as you rushed to the window, placing your hands on the cold glass. You had just finished cleaning it, your hand prints would now be stuck to it. “Wow it is,” you whispered, a joyous feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. “We should go outside right now.”

“Now? Are you crazy? Captain Levi would punish us twice as hard than those two! We could probably be on our deathbed if we don’t get to work!”

“Oh hush up Eren! When was the last time we were able to have fun huh? Years right? Literally! Live a little!” you exclaimed, tossing the stick on the floor.

The brunette grumbled in protest as he shook his head, his strands of hair following his movement. “Thanks but no thanks. I rather live my life peacefully.”

An annoyed groan left your lips as you approached him, your lower lip jutting in an agitated pout. “Come on Eren. Please? For five minutes I promise! Levi is probably on the other side of headquarters right about now!”

He turned his head to the side, his eyes piercing into yours. His eyes were dull, but the curve of his lip meant otherwise. His fingers slithered around the silver pole of the mop, the pads of them moving up and down slowly as if he was thinking about it.

“Guess it can’t be helped,” as dramatic as he was, he let out a loud sigh and dropped the mop of the floor. “Let’s go. Before Captain Levi rips us a new one.”

“You’re the best Eren!”

“Uh huh. Now hurry up!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

The two of you put on your winter coats. It was the same one as the ones you were given in your cadet years, just a bit more efficient. The hoods were over your head as you walked beside Eren in the falling snow. It could have looked like any soldiers left the building. Soldiers with no chores, is what you guys were going for.

“I think we’re clear now,” you said as you took your hood off, looking around the vicinity. Eren glanced down at you and did the same, running a bare hand through his hair.

“Well go crazy then. You brought us out here,”

“Shut up Eren,” a huff of air passed your lips, the fumes becoming visible to the eye as it turned to mist and disappeared. Your eyes wandered across the dark clouds in the sky, small white particles falling from the insides of them. The grass that you walked on, began to get covered by the blankets of snow, the crunching increasing underneath your boots as you moved an inch or two. Your fingers itched inside your pockets, begging to touch the white mess.

The tip of your nose began to grow cold as you let out a sniffle, scrunching your nose as well as your upper lip in the process. The cold was nothing compared to this though. Honestly, you wouldn’t have minded coming with someone else, but something about Eren made it ten times more special than a random person.

Eren watched you from his peripheral vision, staying silent as the shock and awe look on your face was enough for butterflies to appear in his stomach. You looked like a child in a jewelry store in Wall Sina. You had to have seen snow before, but it was just in the moment that made you look adorable. His cheeks burned with a rosy red as he looked away from you, craning his neck upwards to look at the grey blanket of darkness. If he looked close enough, he could see the sun trying to peek through the stubborn clouds, but to no avail, it could not.

He fluttered his eyes shut as he exhaled slowly, letting the days stress wash away from his body. Eren was exhausted. Emotionally, and physically. His body was used for experiments constantly, he rarely took breaks as he mentioned that he had to be ready for whatever. Emotionally, he hated his power. He hated being a monster like everyone said he was.

He attempted to be normal on so many levels. At first he knew he wouldn’t be better than those ugly creatures that used to roam the land. The townspeople weren’t his biggest fans. They tried persuading the Military Police to shut him down when he first found out about his shifting ability. It was horrendous. He just wanted to be seen as normal amongst those that were classified as a regular human being.

He tried so hard, yet no one could listen to him. He couldn’t see himself as human. In his eyes, he was disgusting. He was ugly. He was a monster.

Oblivious that Eren was in his own state of mind, you decided to take a moment to admire his looks. His eyelashes rested peacefully on the top of his cheeks, small puff of air exerted from his lips as his shoulders heaved up and down slowly. The tiniest of snowflakes landed on his supple skin, and melted away automatically from his warm body temperature. His hair started catching the fall snowflakes. The pieces of the small ice crystals scattered across his locks. He seemed like a snow angel, literally. The tip of his ears were a faint red, freezing from the cold atmosphere.

He was alluring. You wanted to know more about him. You craved to hear his deepest of secrets that only you would know. You desired for him to be by your side, and for you to take care of each other. The only person that knew of your crush on the boy was his friends, Mikasa and Armin.

Mikasa seemed to notice right away. In your third year of training, she took notice that you were more upbeat when Eren was nearby or you would try your best to be partnered with him, if she wasn’t already. Sometime in that year, she had approached you straight up, with the same look on her face and said--

“Do you like Eren, Y/N?”

“W-What do you mean?! Course I don’t like Eren!”

“You’re lying.”

She was in fact right. You begged her a hundred times not to bring it up to anyone, especially Eren. You would have rather been eaten by a titan, spit out and get devoured once more instead of having to confront Eren about your feelings. And of course since the universe loved messing with you, Armin happened to walk in on the moment you were begging with mercy and got curious as to what you were speaking about.

“Y/N, do you like Eren?”

“No Armin, why would you think that?!”

“Yeah she likes him.”

“Mikasa!”

At the embarrassing memory, you didn’t notice that Eren had already been staring at you, knowing that you were gazing up at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not looking at you in any way! Why are you looking at me like that?!”

“I asked you first, Y/N!”

Panicking, you quickly bent over and grabbed a clump of snow, modeling it into a sphere as you muttered things under your breath. He couldn’t know why you were staring because you wanted to kiss him, oh god no he could not.

“Y/N?”

“Shut up!” you said quickly and threw the ball of snow at his face, a sound of shock leaving your lips when a noise of surprise left Eren as the sphere slid off his face. He blinked rapidly a couple times, small clumps of white stuck to his eyelashes, making his eyes more alluring.

“Did you just…”

“Yeah I did..”

It was silent as he crouched down, staring forward but not at you. His hand dug into the blanket of snow and modeled a ball, letting out a shaky sigh. His nose has gone incredibly numb already at this point. His fingers dug into the delicate shape as he made eye contact for a split second before winding his arm back, and brought it forward with full force.

Before you had a second of protection, the ice crystal came into contact with your neck, the shape exploding upon contact and sending pieces flying. Some even fell down your coat and into your uniform. “Eren what the hell?!”

“What?” his grin that has been gone for too long, made its way back onto his face once more. Your heart fluttered at the sight. He looked like his old self once again. As much as you wanted to admit it, you missed him. You missed Eren. “shouldn’t have done that if you weren’t ready for a comeback huh?”

“Oh it's on,” you grunted.

Little kids is what you became once more. Your shouts and his laughter could be heard miles away from headquarters. Shots of snow were being sent back and forth from either side, some hits being successful, others not so much.

Both of you had to have looked the same by now. Your eyelashes were damp from the melted crystals, as well as chunks of snow staying on top of your hair. Your nose was frozen off as the snow came down a bit harder than you expected, but you didn’t care.

It seems like hours have passed since you’ve come out here with Eren. Chores were forgotten in the back of your mind as your smile seemed to brighten by each second. It was sure that the water stains in the room dried, but left a foul stench in there. Captain Levi would for sure come and hunt you guys down for leaving your job unfinished.

A loud laugh left your mouth when Eren tripped over a covered branch. His body folded as he fell forward, a yelp withdrawing from his lips. His face came into contact with the snow, his body leaving a decent sized human hole in the ground.

“Eren are you okay?!” you called out for when you stopped laughing, small puffs of air leaving your mouth as you walked over to his limp body.

He grunted as he pushed himself up, giving you an annoyed look. “Yes I’m perfectly fine,’ he grumbled and shook his head, reminding you of a dog as the pieces of snow fell off of his head.

“Run.”

Puzzled, your eyebrows furrowed as you looked down at him in curiosity. “I’m sorry, did you say run? Run for what?”

“Five.”

“Eren what the hell are you talking about?”

“Four.”

What the hell was he on about? If this was another one of his ramblings from his father’s memories, you would personally knock him out and tell him to quit it. But there was a different look in his eyes. His eyes were squinted, small creases formed at the corner of his eyes, a mischievous look in his orbs. His fingers clenched around nothing as he slowly got up from his position.

“Three.”

Realization hit you like a wagon being pulled by horses as you took a step back cautiously, a small lump forming in your throat. Yeah, no. You rather not be crumbled to the ground by a boy, who weighed more than you. That was a death sentence.

Instead of running, because you wanted to be cautious of any possible injuries, you decided to speed walk in the direction of the doors that led to the inside of headquarters. He couldn’t try shit if you were already inside. God, why was Eren like this?

You didn’t even hear the crunches of the shoes from behind you as a pair of arms wrapped around your midsection and knocked you down onto the ground. With a sharp intake of air, your back collided with the pillowy bottom as you wheezed for air. Your eyes widened when you realized how close you were to Eren.

His hands were by your biceps, caging you underneath him. His brown locks fell forward, but they weren’t long enough to tickle your face. His cold breath fanned against your face as you felt yourself drown in his eyes. His eyes glanced down at your lips before looking into your eyes. He felt all of his willpower from keeping him sane.

It seemed that his body moved on his own as he leaned down lower a fraction, as if he was getting ready to kiss you, but came to terms that it might not be the best idea. You took notice of it as you moved suddenly, bringing a hand up to his hood and pulled it over his head, making sure it covered his eyes. Your other hand raised up to his face, cupping the swell of his cheek as you leaned forward, pressing your cold lips against his own.

His whole body tensed for a few seconds before melting into the kiss. His eyebrows furrowed as he sat you both up, cradling a hand behind your neck as if to bring you closer. Your hands moved from his hood to the front of his coat, your fingers curling around the material. A new sense of heat seemed to wash over your entire body. His fingers danced on the base of your neck, shivers running down your body, not only from the cold, but from his electrifying touch. With him being at an advantage, his forehead pressed up against yours. Your fingers weaved into his hair, slowly running up to his scalp, desperately trying to stay in the moment.

He began to get shaky as he pulled away slowly, tugging on your lower lip with his teeth in the process. His eyes fluttered open as he took a look at your face. It looked like you were struggling to open your eyes after the kiss. It made him a bit prideful when he noticed this.

“Open up,” he whispered, tapping your cheek with his fingers, a boyish smile on his face. He watched as your eyes fluttered open, a hazy look in your orbitals.

“Hi Eren,” you forgot where you were as you glanced around the area, realizing you were still in the snow. “..I’m a bit cold.”

“Yeah? Me too,” he responded as he looked over your shoulder before pushing himself off of the ground, lending a hand for you. Gratefully, you took it as he hoisted you up.

“Do you think Captain Levi found that we weren’t there?”

The boy stayed silent as he thought for a moment before shrugging. “Who knows. Maybe he did and he’s looking for us right now. I think we should go back then, before we get punished,” he muttered and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

You stared down at his calloused palm rubbing up against your own. His hand was different. It was warm and it made you feel safe. Who knew a connection between hands was more than enough to know about your requited feelings.

“Eren I like you,” you blurted out, your face heating up as you looked down at the ground, listening to the crunches underneath your feet as you advanced forward.

“Yeah? I knew already.”

“Huh?!” A look of bewilderment and a choke of air was all you could express at the moment. Who betrayed you.

“How—“

“Mikasa,” he interrupted, a hint of smugness in his tone. “I asked her to find out for me last year.”

“Mikasa?” You whispered, voice wavering. You remember that she swore to not tell a soul, not even him.

“But it worked out right?” He asked and looked down at you, a grin on his face. “You should really thank her one day. She may be silent, but she knows what she’s doing.”

You rolled your eyes as you nodded, hugging his arm close to your chest. “Yeah you’re right. Maybe we should both thank her. She does save your life after all.”

“Hey that’s one thing I would not do. I never asked for it!”

Your laugh could be heard from a few feet away in the midst of the snowfall. Fog began to cloud the outside word as you held onto Eren as a guide.

Upon hearing your laugh, it made Eren feel human again. His heart was beating faster than normal, a sign that he was feeling another emotion besides fear. The touch of your hand set a fire full of adoration within him.

Unbeknownst to the two teenagers, their short Captain watched with his hard eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. He had just checked up on Sasha and Connie, who were cleaning the stable and happened to come across the scene not too far away from him.

Instead of deciding to approach the pair and punish them, he let them have their fun. Even if Eren was one of the most hated people in all of Paradis, even the most hated deserved to have someone warm their heart.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #eren jaeger imagines #eren yeager imagines #eren imagines #attack on titan imagines #shingeki no kyojin imagines

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Title: A Collection.

Commission for an anonymous donor.

Pairing: Yandere!Fyodor/Reader

Synopsis: Fyodor doesn’t want a chase when he comes to claim his prize. He prefers his little mouse docile and contained, as opposed to free-range and feral.

TW: Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Sedation, Dehumanization and Slight Infantilization.

You were vaguely aware that your coffee was probably cold, by now.

You supposed you could check. Your cup was only an arm’s length away, sitting at your feet as you kept yourself tucked into a corner of the protective park-bench, your usual safe-haven from all the concerns and responsibilities you knew you’d have to attend to, eventually. A book laid open on your lap, the spine creased and the pages occasionally fluttering in the breeze, but you made no attempt to close it. Your arms felt like lead, and your legs were dead-weight, unmovable and unattached. It was all you could do to keep your eyes open. Something as effortful as reaching down and sitting up was out of the question.

You wondered if you’d lose the will to breathe. If your body was going to stay this heavy for much longer, that might be preferable.

A hazy blur of black and white crossed your vision, pausing momentarily to pluck the novel from your thigh before falling onto the seat beside you, your paper-back soon tucked into the pocket of a thick coat, much too warm for the summer weather. It was summer, wasn’t it? Your thoughts were beginning to cloud, your recent memories dimming into something distant, something separate. Like you were trying to recall a scene from a movie you’d seen a decade ago, one that hadn’t been good enough to remeber.

You tried not to linger on the subject, instead choosing to focus on the present. You were awake. Your tongue was numb, but it had to be there. You could concentrate. “You’re my stalker.”

“Such an ugly name.” His voice was low, but at ease. A confident drawl that made no attempt to hide its apathy. Gloved fingertips brushed against your skin but didn’t settle. As if he was still trying to decide whether or not he cared enough to touch you. “I’m Fyodor, dear, and the man whose been taking care of you. That’s prettier than ‘stalker’, isn’t it?”

“You’ve been following me,” You countered, weakly, too tired to put any real force behind the words. It came out as more of a hollow admission than the well-earned declaration you’d always imagined you’d give, if you ever met your evasive admirer. “As far as I’m aware, that makes you a stalker. You’re just a creep with a name.”

There was a chuckle, and finally, a hand came to rest on the crook of your arm, the gesture present but non-committal, ready to pull away at the slightest disturbance. A sick satisfaction accompanied the idea that he might be afraid to touch you, or hesitant, at least. It was a consolation prize, but one you chose to take pride in. “You think I’m watching you?” He asked, following the question with a breathy chuckle, one that told you he wasn’t looking for an answer. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m a very busy man and there’s much to do. This city of yours is… loud, at the best of times.” He paused, narrowing his eyes at nothing in particular, as if the grass and pavement had done him some great, personal injustice. It was a momentary distaste, though, swiftly covered with an expression of manufactured neutrality, his tight smile seamlessly sewing itself in the place of his glare. “I am important, so I paid many less important people to watch you. And this morning, because I am also very generous, I gave a teenage barista far too much to make sure a scentless, tasteless powder found its way into your beverage.”

It was a muted shock. The betrayal was numb - you’d had more than enough time to realize you were drugged, and it wasn’t like you had any trust in Fyodor to be soiled, but there was still something in the way his smile seemed to broaden that made your chest ache, a certain familiarity in the sparse, nervous glances he threw towards you out of the corner of his eye, as if he expected you to be proud. You didn’t know whether you should be angry or afraid, so you let the emotions blend together, forming some dark, rotten discontent, a helplessness you couldn’t do anything but despise. You tried to express your loathing, to prove it to yourself by gritting your teeth or curling your hands into fists, but all you managed as an awkward twitch and a new wave of dizzying nausea, this fresh assault threatening to force you out of consciousness entirely. “What’re you going to do?” You mumbled, forcing yourself to speak and doing your damnedest to sound intimidating. The effort was futile, at best. “Leave me here to suffer? Force me to talk? Kidnap me?”

He pouted, pursing his lips and letting out a small noise of offense. “So many ugly words,” He repeated. “Don’t think of it as kidnapping. I’m taking you somewhere safe, somewhere beautiful, and all I ask for in return is your cooperation. That’s fair, no?” Another question that didn’t warrant a response. Fyodor was quiet for a beat, though, giving you time to scoff before he continued. “You’ve already proved that this is necessary. During my time here, it’s become clear that little mice have no place among the rats. Someone could take advantage of you. Anything could find its way into your blood and leave you powerless.” He sighed, shaking his head and squeezing your forearm playfully before letting his attention drift. An arm draped itself over your shoulders, and tentatively, Fyodor moved closer, pulling you against him. You tried to resist, to keep yourself upright, but the slightest bit of force was enough to render you slack and useless. You fell into his side, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek and tilt your head back, keeping your unfocused eyes centered on him. You had a feeling that would be a theme, while you were in his company. “If I wasn’t so benevolent, I may have let someone less gentle collect you. But, it’d be a shame to let you break this early on.”

“Fucking stalker,” You spat, under your breath, if only because you couldn’t think of another thing to say. Your mind was foggy, your thoughts spiraling, quickly becoming too much of a burden to carry. You were tired, more so than you’d ever been before. You couldn’t move, and all you wanted to do was sleep, even if the only place you had to rest your head was in the palm of your soon-to-be abductor. In a vain attempt to keep yourself awake, you tried to speak, but Fyodor was quick to silence you, hushing you like a fussing, toothless animal.

Like you were a mouse, chewing at the bars of your cage.

“Give in, beloved. Resistance will only end in bad dreams.” There was a kiss to the top of your head, a smile pressed against your scalp, but the sensation was dull, fleeting. You’d already begun to fade by the time he thought to finish.

“I’m only trying to do what’s best for my favorite pet.”

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toraodwaterlaw · 3 years

Text

Taken Apart

After Vergo’s attack, Corazon escapes to the coast with Law. They’re both alive for the time being, but duty soon pulls them apart.

Pt. 1 of a 2 part CoraLives!AU story. 4.5k, minor warning for a panic attack and for non-graphic description of Law dissecting/experimenting with his powers on himself.

Everything hurt down to the rough chop slap of waves against wood. Law groaned and forced his eyes open. If he wasn’t in so much pain, he would have thought that everything that had happened on Minion had been a dream because he was back on the ship that had ferried him from island to island over the last six months. He lifted himself on trembling limbs and slumped into a seated position.

“Cora-san?”

The towering blond was hunched over on the far side of the small vessel, his blood stained shirt and coat discarded while he wrapped bandages around his torso. He froze for a moment and then continued tending to his wounds. At first Law thought that maybe Cora hadn’t heard him. His voice was frustratingly weak, even to his own ears. Then Cora sighed, put the bandages aside, and pulled his shirt and coat back on.

“Commander Donquixote Rosinante from the marine headquarters,” he said, voice low and clear. “Marine Code 01746.” When he turned around, Law saw that there were tears forming in his eyes. “I’ve been with the navy from the start. I’ve been undercover so that I could try to prevent my brother from causing a tragedy in the future.”

Law had known or at least suspected most of this for some time. Then he thought of the message he’d foolishly delivered into Vergo’s hands. Was Cora upset with him for ruining his years long mission? He looked away at the angry grey sea and then back at the man— the marine— in front of him. “Why are you telling me all of this now? I already knew.”

Cora hung his head. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I didn’t want you to hate me.” He shook his head and blinked. “Wait— you knew?”

“Of course I knew. I’m not stupid.”

“No. No you’re not.” Cora’s startled expression softened as the start of a smile crept on to his face. “But if you knew, why did you ask me before?”

Law balled his hands into fists and wriggled in place. “I just wanted to see how you would answer. To know if… if you cared enough to lie about something like that. For me.”

Cora huffed out a soft laugh. He reached a long arm toward Law and then aborted the gesture. Instead, he got to his feet, his smile gone. In its place was a grim, determined look that Law hadn’t seen since Cora had confronted him about his full name months ago.

“You asked why I was telling you this now.”

He nodded his head back to the cliffs behind him. Law followed the motion and craned his neck to try to figure out what he was supposed to be looking at. There, at the top of the snow lined rocks, was what appeared to be a giant cage. He must have made some sort of face because Cora nodded in response.

“Doffy is up to something,” Cora said. “I don’t know what but I do know there are marines there who are probably in a mountain of trouble. I can’t let them face the Donquixote Family alone. Not when…” His eyes shut and when he opened them again there was a fire there. “It’s my responsibility to stop him.”

Law was beyond tired and so it took a moment for the pieces to fall together. When they did, his heart plummeted. “You’re going back?” He grabbed the side of the boat to push himself up to his feet. Between his exhaustion and the rocking from the waves, it was all he could do to keep upright. He squeezed his eyes shut while he fought back the turning of his stomach. “I’m coming with you.”

Cora frowned at him. “Law… You can barely stand.”

“And you were shot. A lot.”

Law took an angry step forward. The whole world seemed to pitch around him. He braced for a fall into the water and instead found himself in Cora’s hands. The world continued spinning and he realized he hadn’t upset the boat. He was just too ill and weak to move around in a boat without making himself dizzy.

It made him furious. He felt tears prick at his eyes in his anger.

The entire top of his head was enveloped by a large hand. “As angry as Doffy might be, I’m his brother. He won’t kill me. I’ll be back,” Cora said. “It’s you and the Op-Op fruit that Doffy wants. So what I need is to know you’ll be there when I come for you. That means you need to get out of here, start figuring out that fruit of yours, and get better.”

Law lifted a hand and looked down at it. He’d felt something the moment he’d swallowed down his first bite of the bitter fruit. Since then that feeling had only grown. He couldn’t yet figure out the shape of it but he could see the outlines.

That didn’t mean he agreed with leaving Cora behind. Unfortunately Cora knew him well enough by now to head off any argument.

“Calm.” Law felt the now familiar subtle tingle of Cora’s powers washing over him. Cora took a long legged step back. He pulled up the anchor and then grabbed hold of the rope that would take him back up the cliff. “This will ensure that you and anything you touch is silent. It will help you slip away without anyone noticing so that you can get to Swallow. Wait for me there. I won’t be more than a day or two.”

Law marveled when he was met with absolute silence as he slapped his hands on the wood of the boat. His eyes widened and that drew out another smile from Cora. Law scrambled to his feet, ready to latch onto Cora’s leg if he needed to. Before he got more than a handful of shaky steps, Cora was already partly up the rope with his foot on the bow of the ship.

Something about the way he was looking at him made Law stop. Cora’s smile became so wide and bright that it seemed at odds with the cloud filled sky above. Law blinked up at him.

“Law…” Cora’s smile broadened even further, reaching impossible levels. “I love you.”

With that, he kicked off the boat and set it adrift. Despite his frustration at being sent away, Law couldn’t help but smile himself. That feeling settled in his heart and bubbled into silent laughter. A sudden gust caught the sail and before he could do anything to stop it, the ship had carried him away from the rocky shores of Minion. Law didn’t move. He stayed rooted in place, unblinking, until Cora disappeared from view.

That effervescent feeling faded fast as the sounds of battle increased. Gunfire echoed through the air and still there was that strange, horrible cage. Law tried to focus on sailing to Swallow as Cora had instructed but he couldn’t stop from looking over his shoulder at the island he was leaving behind.

His vision started to blur so he swiped a hand across his eyes to wipe away tears, only to find there were no tears there. He shook his head but still his vision failed to clear.

“Dammit.”

All Cora had asked of him was to survive and he couldn’t even do that.

Then he realized he’d heard himself speak, which meant Cora’s powers had worn off. His chest tightened. He could feel panic welling up. Now was not the time for that. He had to look at it rationally. In all likelihood, Cora had redirected his energy somewhere more important or Law had simply travelled out of the range of his powers. He wasn’t sure if that’s how these things worked but they had to abide by some sort of rules. Cora had told him that Devil Fruits weren’t magic. They had their limits.

But there was nothing he could tell himself that would stop him from seeing Cora riddled with bullets, the snow beneath him turning red.

Law’s breathing quickened until each gulp of air was too shallow to sustain him. He felt his lungs burn and he started to cough. His vision, already blurred, darkened at the edges. He braced himself by putting his hands on his knees but it wasn’t enough to stop him from swaying. Hot tears welled up and fell from his cheeks as he cursed his body for betraying him at every turn. At this rate he was going to black out and then there was no saying what would happen to him. If he was lucky, he’d regain consciousness before he drifted too far off course. Unlucky and Doflamingo would find him after eluding the marines once more.

He curled into himself and wrapped his arms around the back of his head. He was so tired of it all. He wanted it all to be over. For weeks now, he’d been ready to lay down and wait for the end. In all likelihood, he would have given up a long time ago if not for Cora. He owed it to Cora to keep fighting.

He squeezed his arms tighter to shut out the sound of his own rasping breath, of slapping waves, and distant canonfire. His heart skipped an uneasy beat and a shiver ran through him. He suddenly felt very aware of everything wrong in his body. It wasn’t simply a matter of feeling the pain and numbness in his skin or the fire burning in his lungs. This time he felt aware of every organ— practically every cell— in his body as though he could see them spread out before him like a frog sliced open for dissection.

He slowly unwound his arms and lifted his head. He looked down at his hands, turned palm up. He looked the same but he felt different. It felt like if he tried hard enough, he could see the deposits of lead that had painted his flesh white. He blinked and realized what he had taken for a continued haze in his vision was actually some sort of blue glow. When he reached out he could feel a light buzzing film around him. He was, it would seem, surrounded by a sphere of energy. It reminded him of the way Cora’s powers worked.

Was this the manifestation of his own powers? He had no sooner noticed it when it disappeared by withdrawing into him. Try as he might, he couldn’t make it appear again. He had no idea what he’d done to summon it in the first place.

He had more immediate problems, though. The sea had grown choppier as wind picked up. If he continued to let himself be buffeted by the elements, he could end up capsized. Knowing that his powers were really there, even if he couldn’t yet figure out how to access them, helped to focus him. He could survive this. He would survive this.

With that thought in mind, he wrangled the ship back under his control and finished sailing to Swallow. He’d spent a lot of time at sea since he’d joined the Family and especially in the last six months as he and Cora jumped from location to location, but he’d never been more eager to reach land than he was at that moment. It felt like a finish line in an impossibly long race.

Law gathered what he could from the supplies left in the boat. A knife. His pack with a change of clothes and a bedroll. Flint. It was the most he could easily carry on his own and should be enough for him to hold on until Cora returned. He jumped out of the boat as soon as he felt the bottom scrape land. The shock of the cold water jolted him wide awake and then, just as suddenly, sapped all the energy from him. He had just enough strength left to make sure he fell forward rather than back. He pulled himself over the rocky shore until the water no longer lapped up on his boots.

Law cursed his stupidity. He’d been with the Family long enough, rescued a stumbling Cora enough, to know what happened to Devil Fruit users in sea water. He should have remembered. And even if he hadn’t remembered that, he knew better than to jump into waist deep icy waters. He needed to get inland and start a fire. Before he could worry about figuring out his new abilities or curing the Amber Lead, he needed to get warm.

He braced himself with a breath and pushed up onto trembling legs. He mustered his energy to push the boat back out to sea. If things went as planned, Cora would come for him. If not… he didn’t want to leave an obvious trail for Doflamingo to follow.

He followed the shore for some time to further confuse the trail by avoiding making tracks in the snow. He continued that way until he found a copse of trees. The snow wasn’t quite as deep under the pines and it would give him cover for a short time. He walked to the middle of the pines before he collapsed against one of the trunks. He got dry clothes from his pack and tossed the wet ones aside after he’d changed. It was tempting to gather wood and make a fire now, hope that he would be safe there until Cora came, but he knew better. That wasn’t why he’d stopped anyway.

He remembered his parents spending long days and night puzzling out medical problems. If he could figure out what the Op-Op was capable of, he might be able to do what they’d never gotten a chance to. So he would think things through the way they would have— he would take what facts he had and work from there, one step at a time. He was lost now but he wouldn’t remain that way.

First, he knew he had the power, he just needed to know how to draw it out. Second, he’d done it by accident on the ship. Third, it seemed to take the form of a sphere. That was a place to start. If he could visualize what he’d seen and what he’d felt, he might be able to do it again.

He held out his hand. He tried to recall every detail, no matter how miniscule, of what had happened earlier. There’d been the subtle, numbing tingle of it and a somewhat unnatural, antiseptic taste on the back of his tongue. It had an observable outer membrane that created a sphere around him. Within that sphere, he’d felt a sense of control. He’d felt as though he was not only aware of every hair on his head, every cell in his body, but that he could manipulate it all if he wanted. If that was true, he really could be free of the curse born into his blood.

There! A whirling blue ball appeared in the center of his palm. If he concentrated on it, he could make it bigger. Soon it was the size of his fist, his head, and then his entire body. He pressed the edges of it until it surrounded him and the bases of the trees around him. As before, there was a sense that he could manipulate anything around him. There was certainly a temptation to grab hold of the lead in his flesh and rip it out but, on consideration, he decided the trees would make better test subjects.

He looked at the trunk closest in front of him. He flicked his wrist in an attempt to uproot it. The portion inside the sphere shuddered but, ultimately, remained in place. He tried again with more force behind his gesture but found the same results. He stopped to consider further. Perhaps a tree was too large for him to manipulate or perhaps the problem lay in the fact that he only had a portion of the plant under his control. Maybe a mixture of the two. Whatever the case, the focus of his next trial would be something smaller.

After a quick glance at his surroundings, he settled on a fallen branch. He moved his hand upward and the branch followed. It made circuits through the air, lifted by nothing but his will. He was about to see if he could move two different objects, when his strength abandoned him all at once. The blue sphere shrank back to nothing as exhaustion fell on him like a blanket. He slumped into the snow beneath it. He could do absolutely nothing but watch the thin rise and fall of his chest.

Not the result he’d hoped for but it was still progress. He’d learned that there was a price to pay for his powers. The strongest barrier of what he could do was his own limited stamina. That was something he could work on but he had next to no energy these days and it would stay that way until he’d extracted all the lead from his system.

What he wouldn’t give for a frog to dissect with his new powers. Any animal would do, really, but that was the one he’d practiced on most in the past and so would make the best starting point. He didn’t have a frog though. He also didn’t have time to go hunting for a suitable replacement.

Law bit his lip and held up a hand. He didn’t have the time to do this right. He needed to act. Maybe not on a hand, however. As a surgeon those were the most important tools he had. He eyed his booted feet. He’d rather not lose any limbs, if he could help it, but he needed a part of him that he could easily look at. He pulled out his left boot, carefully placed it aside, and then did the same with his sock. The biting cold against his bare skin made him wince.

Easier than before, he summoned up the blue sphere. He had a moment to muse that he needed a better name for it as he expanded it just enough to envelop his foot. It felt like it used less energy the smaller it was. He needed to find a balance between the energy it took to sustain the bubble and the energy it took to do things within it.

He grabbed the knife he’d taken from the boat and held it with shaking hands against his ankle. He wished he had a scalpel. Likely he didn’t need anything at all, given he’d been able to manipulate a stick without so much as touching it, but the weight of a tool in his hands felt reassuring. Cora had said this wasn’t magic so he would treat it like any other medical procedure. This knife would be his scalpel and the space he controlled, his operating room.

He sucked in a breath and cut downward. His whole body tensed in reaction to what he knew was about to happen and he flinched despite himself. When he forced his eyes open and saw his foot disconnected from his leg, a wave of dizziness washed over him. He wasn’t the squeamish sort. Any last scrap of him that might have been had disappeared while he hid amongst dead bodies to survive. That didn’t mean that he was prepared to see himself chopped to bits.

After a few steadying breaths, he realized something. It wasn’t bleeding. It also didn’t hurt. He’d written off the initial lack of pain as shock but surely it should hurt? All it felt was cold. That’s when he noticed he could not only still feel what it felt but could move his toes if he tried. Despite the crudeness of the knife, the cuts were remarkably clean as well. He’d still feel better with better tools on hand but it seemed, if needed, he could operate with whatever was on hand.

“Fascinating.”

He aimed the knife at his foot again and sliced a few more times. His foot fell to the ground in four neat pieces. There was a sort of numb tingle along the cuts but otherwise no sensation to speak of along the incisions. He picked up one of the pieces of his foot and examined it. The tissue all seemed to be functioning as usual despite being about as far from usual as it could be. What was more, when he focused in, he could sense each of the component parts. If he tried hard enough, he was sure he could manipulate every capillary, tendon, and bone at will. Everything within this operating room was his to control. For the first time, he truly felt like he could be rid of the Amber Lead as he felt it sluggish in his veins.

A scream broke through the winter air and snapped Law back to the present. He froze in place as another followed and shouting came after that. Two— no— three voices disrupted the silence. The smart thing to do would be to stay still and hope that whoever they were, they didn’t come this way, but then he heard a call for help. One of the voices was begging the others to stop. He thought of his futile pleas to Vergo and his hand tightened around the knife. He wasn’t in a mood for bullies.

That meant it was time to see just how much power he actually had. He quickly and carefully realigned the disparate quarters of his foot and pressed them back together. They reconnected as though they’d never been cut at all. Any other time he would have been eager to experiment further but right now he had some skulls to crack.

He quickly reattached the foot and let his powers die away as he pulled on his sock and boot once more. He sheathed the knife at his belt and took off at a run toward the voices. He marvelled at the fact that just moments before his foot had been in pieces on the snow and now he was running as though that had all been a fever dream. It was a good distraction from the rage bubbling up inside him as the first voice was reduced to whimpers.

He could see now where the sounds were coming from. Two boys about his age were standing with bats in hand over a bloodied lump on the ground. It looked like a polar bear but it was wearing clothes. This close Law could hear the bear saying ‘sorry’ again and again, so it clearly wasn’t a normal bear. He remembered a story Cora had told him and his brain supplied the word— Mink. Here was a creature he’d never hoped to see and they were treating it like a monster.

Law could hear his teeth creak, he was grinding them so hard. “Leave him alone.”

The two boys looked up at him. The redhead spat on the ground at Law’s feet. “Why should we?”

“Yeah,” said the other, the one with a hat that said ‘penguin’ on the front. “What are you gonna do about it, kid?”

They both leaned down to talk to him, as though to emphasize how much taller they were than him. If that hadn’t worked for Cora, then it was hardly going to work for them. Law almost pitied them.

He dove forward quickly and punched the redhead in the gut so that he dropped his bat as he doubled over. He knocked the other off his feet with a low, sweeping kick. While they regained their bearings, Law summoned up his powers. The bubble of his Room, as he’d decided to call it, enveloped them all. He ran on pure instinct and gestured at the both of them. They lifted off their feet and then crashed into each other. He then tossed them into a snow bank. He was sorely tempted to use his knife, knowing they wouldn’t be seriously injured, but he could feel himself running out of energy. Until he knew if he could put them back together outside a Room, it wouldn’t be worth the trouble of a good scare.

He felt his knees wobble beneath him. He cancelled the Room before it stretched him too thin. Rather than wait to see if the pair of bullies got back up, Law walked up to the still cowering bear. The bear shrank even further into the snow. It looked up at him with small, dark eyes. He was almost cute.

Not that Law noticed such things. No, he was focused on the injuries the bear had sustained. He tried to approach to see if there was anything he could help with.

“I’m a doctor. Training to be one, anyway. I can help.”

It wasn’t exactly the full truth but he had been further expanding his medical knowledge while serving under Doflamingo. Besides, he figured it was probably more reassuring at the moment than saying he was a pirate. Or former pirate. Or whatever he was now that he’d pissed off his captain for good.

Not that it mattered. The bear put his paws on his head. “I’m sorry,” he whined.

Law huffed. He ran a hand over his face and took the opportunity to gather his fraying patience and energy. He wasn’t in the mood to coddle. “You didn’t do anything. Now come on. I can help you.”

The bear peered out from behind one paw. “You made them float.”

“Yeah?”

“And you threw them.”

Law crossed his arms and glared at the two dark lumps in the snow. “Well they were hurting you weren’t they? I can just stop helping, if you want.”

The trounced boys groaned. However they planned on reacting to their thorough beating, they’d be up soon. Law nodded at them to indicate as much. When the bear did nothing to react, he shrugged and started to walk away. A paw wrapped around his wrist.

“Actually, um, uh… sir?”

Law snorted at that. “Law.”

“I’m, uh, Bepo. Not that you asked. Sorry.”

Law pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt dizzy. He needed to get somewhere to rest. Soon. It looked like two hobbling teenage boys had other ideas. They’d picked themselves up out of the snow and were coming toward him.

“Hey you,” penguin hat said.

Law put a hand on his knife and turned back to Bepo. “Come on.”

“Wait.”

The redhead. Law could hear footsteps getting closer. He spun around, knife in hand. “Don’t try it.”

Penguin hat put up his hands. “That’s not—”

Law readied for another fight. His body had other ideas. The corners of his vision had gone fuzzy and his stomach flipped over on itself. He could see the boys mouthing something at him. Logically he knew they were speaking but he couldn’t hear a word. It didn’t matter. He could beat these fools even if he was only half conscious.

Another step toward them, knife raised, and everything went black.

#one piece #one piece au #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #donquixote rosinante #donquixote rocinante #one piece corazon #corazon #penguin #shachi #bepo #fic

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tealin · 4 years

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Basler to the Beardmore 2: Errands

As always, no matter what Tumblr does with it, this post is available in its intended presentation at twirlynoodle.com/blog along with the rest of my Antarctic travel diary.

On this flight to the heart of Antarctica, I was only a hanger-on. We had two errands to run before entertaining me and my historical interests, the most important of which was restocking a fuel depot at the base of the Transantarctic Mountains.

There are many busy science teams in Antarctica, and while some renewable energy sources are starting to be used, the fact is that everything runs on a reliable supply of fossil fuels, mostly petrol. The aircraft that keep people and their essentials moving around the continent have a network of fuel depots, both for relay stops and for emergencies. Contrary to some conspiracy theories, anyone can fly to and around Antarctica if they have the money and resources to get there, and many do. As the national science programmes have a very tight margin, and their fuel depots are expensive to maintain, they cannot afford jet-setters raiding their supplies, so the locations of these depots are kept secret. Therefore I am not going to tell you where our first stop was. The chances of a private pilot reading this blog are slim, but it may be possible to deduce from my photos where this particular cache is: if you are that outlier, I hereby ask you please to do the decent thing and leave the fuel alone – or if you absolutely must access it, then let the USAP know what you've taken and make good on it as soon as you can. Everyone in Antarctica looks out for each other, and that includes you. OK? OK.

So, we've taken off, and done our acrobatics to get the skis up, and are now facing a couple of hours' flight time before we reach our primary destination. There is, quite frankly, nothing between Williams Field and the Transantarctic Mountains, besides hundreds of miles of the Ross Ice Shelf. This was known as 'The Barrier' to the early explorers, because when James Clark Ross sailed down to explore in 1840 it was a great while wall that prevented his ships from going any further. In later years it wasn't so much a barrier as a highway – clear and flat, and not much off sea level, it provided a route deep into the high latitudes without the perils of the high windy Polar Plateau. Among people who frequently travel out there, it is sometimes referred to as 'the Flat White' – my impression is that this term came from the Kiwis, and the espresso drink of the same name is also antipodean in origin, so I wonder which came first. It is undeniably Flat, and White (though the refraction of sunlight through ice crystals makes it look anything from peachy to periwinkle, depending on the angle), but none of its various names communicate just how big it is.

I have flown over the Canadian tundra many times, and over the Greenland ice cap, but the view from 35,000 feet is like looking at satellite view in Google Maps compared to flying at cloud level, where the parallax with the horizon gives you a much keener sense of distance. The Barrier is BIG. In fact, 'big' is too small a word to communicate it. 'Massive', 'mammoth', and 'gargantuan' are more melodramatic than descriptive. Its vastness puts all of human consciousness, never mind vocabulary, in proper perspective. For my money, it outdoes the night sky as a visual approximation of infinity.

Getting a sense of its size, especially in a still photo, is difficult without an object for scale. For your education and my good fortune, we happened to fly over the RAID convoy as they made their way from the Minna Bluff site to where the Ross Ice Shelf meets the Antarctic continent. Rapid Access Ice Drilling has been supporting various scientific projects for a few years now, whether their interest is in the ice itself (its trapped air gives a record of Earth's atmosphere in millennia past) or what's underneath (marine environments far removed from the open sea; the bed of an accelerating glacier). Their units are about the size of a shipping container, and are pulled by enormous tractors, so if they are this dwarfed by the Flat White, imagine how much more puny a sledge party would be.

Before too much longer we were at the depot. Landing at an Antarctic field airstrip is even more complicated than taking off: we circled once, to do a visual check, then skimmed it with the skis to make sure no hidden crevasses had opened up since the last time someone landed here, then finally touched down for real on the third go-round. The plane crew rapidly got to work unloading the fuel drums; I offered to help but was assured I wasn't needed, so spent the time taking photographs and mucking around in the snow.

The first thing that struck me was how beautiful the mountains were in colour. The best photos I've seen of them have been black and white, so the rich variety in shades was remarkable. What you can't see in this small photo was how the lighter rock was banded with strata of blue-grey and orange-brown sandstone, giving it a luxurious marbled effect.

I've read a lot about how conditions on the Barrier are so much different than on the coast. This was far deeper into it than I was ever expecting to set foot, but I was surprised how tame it was. Now, it was an idyllically calm and sunny day – had it been any different we would not have been there – so the only time I realised that it was actually much colder than McMurdo was when a slight breeze wafted past my bare hand and broke the warm spell that the sunshine had cast.

What was different was the snow. Around McMurdo, the snowbanks which did build up had been repeatedly blown over with volcanic dust which warmed up in the sun and made the snow gritty, icy, and rotten – if you live in a snowy city, think of the texture of snowbanks alongside busy roads. Out here, there was nothing but snow, all the way down to where it became ice – powder blown off the mountains, maybe even off the Polar Plateau, deposited here to be compacted in the sun and polished by the wind. The crust made by these processes was smooth and, in many places, thick enough to support my weight, so I hardly left a footprint – a 'good pulling surface' as sledgers would have it – but without warning there would be a thin spot where my foot would break through and sink in the sugar-like snow below.

Before long, the crew had finished their restock, and playtime was over. After our exciting takeoff manoeuvres, we started climbing the mountains to the second of our tasks for the day.

The Transantarctic Mountains, according to our pilot, are still something of a mystery. They are a very high mountain range, but unlike the Rockies for example, they show little or no sign of buckling or other geological forces – they seem to have been lifted whole, keeping their layers of sandstone and coal and fossil-rich deposits mostly flat, with occasional intrusions of igneous rock. The range acts as a sort of massively oversized dyke, holding back the miles-deep polar ice cap from spilling over West Antarctica, the Ross Ice Shelf, and the Ross Sea, as the mountains cross the continent.

Ice appears to be solid, but it actually behaves more like a stiff jelly or fondant icing – if it finds a change in altitude it will flow, very slowly, downhill. This is what a glacier is: snow gets deposited over many years without melting, turns to ice, and when its volume can no longer be held at elevation, starts to creep down the valley. The ice of the Polar Plateau finds gaps in the Transantarctic Mountains and pushes through them, forming glaciers which pour out onto the Ross Sea and, merging, form the Ross Ice Shelf. The Beardmore Glacier is one of the largest of these, but there are hundreds of smaller ones, and many tributary glaciers that feed these. In flying over the lower Transantarctic Mountains, there were plenty of opportunities to see ice dynamics at work:

Our destination was up near the head of a narrow glacier, where it broadened out into a snowy plain called the Bowden Névé – névé being a term for young snow which has not yet compacted into glacial ice but is in a position to do so. This was CTAM (pronounced see-tam), a geology camp established to be a hub for teams doing work in the Central TransAntarctic Mountains. The névé afforded an open, soft, flat place to land planes carrying supplies and people, who could then move on to less accessible places overland. At least, it did, until a wind event a few years ago scoured deep furrows in the landing strip.

As we flew over, doing the visual check, I was astonished the site could be spotted at all, as it was only a small clutch of bamboo poles in the vast expanse.

Having proven that the landing strip was landable, the next task was to see what condition the building was in. What building, you ask? Why, the one completely covered in snow, under the markers. Once upon a time it was a couple of modules standing on the surface of the glacier, but Antarctica gradually swallowed them up, so now one has to dig down through the snow to reach the roof hatch, eight feet above the floor.

On the way from the Basler to the camp site, I was treated to one signature snow effect I had missed out on, at the depot. 'The Barrier Hush' is frequently mentioned in journals: it was described as a 'whoosh' or a 'hush-shh-shhhh' that sighed out from underneath the walker as he broke through the top crust into a pocket of air underneath, where the loose snow had settled after the top crust was formed. The pocket could sometimes extend quite a long way from where the crust was broken and the sound followed the exchange of air as far as it went. It would startle the ponies and excite the dogs, until they learned there was nothing to chase and catch.

I was walking some way behind the plane crew as they made for the camp with shovels, and suddenly heard what I thought was a small whirlwind – a sharp and intense, almost whistling sound that seemed to race across my path. This being the sort of place one would expect to see dust devils (or snow devils, I suppose they would be) I looked around to see where it was, but the air was as still up here as it had been down on the ice shelf. It was only after the second or third time it happened that I realised what it was – it was so completely not how I had imagined the Barrier Hush to sound. If you make a little whirlwind sound by whisper-whistling whshwshywshwhwwsh with your lips really quickly, that's what it sounded like. Having heard it, now, I can completely understand how the dogs would have thought there was a small creature scurrying around under the snow. It sounded much more animate than it had been described. I felt so lucky to be let into that secret.

The crew got the hatch open and the first of them climbed down into the pitch darkness to report everything OK. The rest followed, and invited me along, but I am not the most coordinated travelling artist, and couldn't see a way down for me that didn't end in a concussion. So I stayed above while they explored the submerged camp, and enjoyed the view. It was really spectacular – not just the stunning mountains but the thin, brittle blue of the sky and the hardness of the sunlight, as if the whole world were a taut drumskin.

And, best of all, from here the horizon was the Polar Plateau – another Flat White stretching to the South Pole and beyond.

#antarctica #travel #basler #dc3 #CTAM #air freight #mountains #transantarctic mountains #bowden neve #geology #field camp #photos

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bananaofswifts · 4 years

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Taylor Swift’s folklore Dismantles Her Own Self-Mythologizing: Review

The singer-songwriter's eighth album cuts away the pop scaffolding for dark, dreamy contemplation

The Lowdown: Born of isolation, Taylor Swift’s eighth album, folklore, interrogates the pop star’s self-mythologizing and turns her gaze outward. Created during the ongoing pandemic, Swift collaborated remotely on 11 songs with Aaron Dessner of The National, who shared orchestrations composed inside his own quarantine. The results lean toward modern folk and glitchy experimentation, abandoning pop bombast but not the drama of swelling strings or anxious percussion. The accompanying visuals depict a gloomy summer, and listeners can imagine Swift watching storms barrel across the Atlantic horizon and wandering old-growth forests in half-done braids, alone or with a companion socially distanced beyond the frame. Dropped on 24 hours’ notice without her typically painstaking roll-out, the 16 moody songs delve into “fantasy, history, memory” and find Swift roaming her past loves with fresh, if tired, eyes — but also writing complex fictional scenes beyond her own experience. From a lyrical standpoint, it’s arguably Swift’s most contemplative, ambivalent, and expansive work yet.

The Good: While 2019’s Lover tried to please everyone with a wide range of half-baked genre parodies, folklore sounds like an entire album sprung from “The Archer”, the previous record’s most self-aware, unresolved, and memorable track. There are no pop-radio bangers here, but once I stopped howling “CRUEL SUMMER should’ve been a single!!,” folklore’s melodies and choruses ribboned into my ears and got tangled with my own memories.

Dessner’s influence is palpable, and his orchestration is consistently gorgeous — an unexpected tone to which Swift responds deftly. Jack Antonoff, Swift’s friend and longtime producer/co-writer, also worked on the record; though still distinctive, Antonoff clearly follows the cloud-covered path set by Swift and Dessner. Swift duets with Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon on “exile” to elegant effect; the song acts as a contrapuntal of a dissolving romance, the two voices alternating while remaining separate, harmonizing only with themselves. Like most of these songs, “exile” marks maturity: The lyrics are clever but restrained, and the emotions are not only high-pitched but possess complex, shifting depths.

This album fits comfortably among what I’ve been spinning this summer: Jamila Woods’ LEGACY! LEGACY!, Waxahatchee’s Saint Cloud, and HAIM’s Women in Music Pt. III — albums full of momentum, contemplation, push-and-pull in equal measure. Swift signals growth both personal and creative throughout folklore. Superficially, perhaps, she drops the F-bomb twice — a transgression against “radio-” and “family-friendly” that she’s never dared before. The first line of album opener “the 1” is “I’m doin’ good, I’m on some new shit” — even as she explicitly passes her hand through an old flame. It’s that self-awareness and willingness to both hold herself responsible and forgive that set these songs apart. “mirrorball” sounds like lost Jimmy Eat World jangle-pop laced with melancholy pedal steel and builds to a stunning bridge where Swift admits: “I’ve never been a natural/ All I do is try, try, try … I’m still trying everything to keep you looking at me.” Swift has never sounded so honest, and the scrim between her interiority and position as global pop powerhouse has never been so transparent.

Though Swift dons rose-colored lenses for even the darkest heartaches, her perspective at 30 has made her lyricism even more piercing. “I hit my peak at seven,” she sings on a wistful track about a lifelong friendship. “I was too scared to jump in, but I was high … Are there still beautiful things?” On album standout “invisible string”, Swift sings, “Cold was the steel of my ax to grind/ For the boys who broke my heart/ Now I send their babies presents.” She’s so often dealt in retro tropes of riding in cars with and borrowing sweaters from crushes (and that’s still present here), but this banality is fresh and hits harder. In the same song, she credits destiny with uniting her and her true love, but subtly undercuts the cliché — “isn’t it just so pretty to think/ All along there was some/ Invisible string/ Tying you to me?” She understands the myth-making required of every romantic love — and the constant retelling if that love lasts.

Until now, Swift has been an excellent narrator of the dramas of young love, big friendship, and staying true to a certain narrow-minded integrity. She has been America’s favorite crazy white girl, setting fire to the love letters and reputations of those who wronged her or erecting pedestals to her current squad or lover. But the only notably pointed finger on folklore comes through “mad woman” (much improved over the pseudo-feminist gloss of “The Man”). Swift seems to have realized that the pain of growing up often comes down to how we navigate the tension between expectations and reality — of our relationships, achievements and setbacks, and our choices.

From that calm, Swift’s imagination expands, and she’s consciously trying to write from perspectives not her own, including eccentric heiress Rebekah Harkness in “the last great American dynasty” and a lightly vindictive corpse in “my tears ricochet” (singing, “I can go anywhere I want, just not home”).

The Bad: Sometimes Swift still seems caught in the mechanism of her own massive professional apparatus. The album’s promotional Instagram filter is a “glittery sepia-tone,” which feels a bit tone-deaf, and the self-styled portraits of Swift appear to reference a glamorous mid-century sad girl a la Sylvia Plath.

On occasion, Swift can’t resist the pop-culture tropes embedded in her psyche: “illicit affairs” seems cribbed directly from a Sex and the City episode, and the teenage love-triangle series (“cardigan”, “august”, “betty”) evokes any number of late-2000s CW soaps. Yet, the restraint exhibited here, and lines like “meet me behind the mall” and “you can’t believe a word she says/ Most times/ But this time it was true” effectively refresh the clichés yet again.

“epiphany” seems to try to connect periods of global and American crisis, from World War II to COVID-19. While there are a few standout lines — “hold your hand through plastic now” — the ideas are muddled. You can hear the impulse to speak more broadly about the world beyond her walls, but she hasn’t quite figured out what to say yet. Perhaps that’s next.

The Verdict: On folklore, Swift has come of age, emotionally and sonically, and proven herself — not that she needed to — as not only an exceptionally autonomous auteur but a nimble collaborator with an ever-broadening palate.

We live in an era when Americans are examining and dismantling national myths on a grand scale. Swift, too, is expanding her perspective yet starting at home, evaluating ongoing struggles, failures, and choices, weaving larger themes into her well-worn tapestries of bittersweet, young love. The songs of folklore show Swift piercing holes in her own narrative and persona and seem to ask: What’s the account we give to ourselves and to others? Can we look more closely? Can we change the story and survive?

Essential Tracks: “cardigan”, “mirrorball”, “invisible string”, and “peace”

#taylor swift #review #folklore

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womenintranslation · 4 years

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Q&A with Candice Whitney and Barbara Ofosu-Somuah, editors/translators of “Future. il domani narrato dalle voci di oggi,” edited by Igiaba Scego

A few weeks ago we announced on the WiT Tumblr an upcoming program at Casa Italiana NYU, “Stories Without Borders: A Conversation with Igiaba Scego,” hosted by Candice Whitney and Stefano Albertini, which you can watch here on YouTube. In an engaging and wide-ranging conversation, Scego talked about Italy’s colonial past in Africa, racial politics and systemic racism in Italy, the need for diversity in Italian publishing, and her reactions to the killing of George Floyd. Scego also discussed her reasons for editing the groundbreaking anthology of writings by AfroItalian women, Future. il domani narrato dalle voci di oggi [Futures. Tomorrow Narrated by the Voices of Today], published in 2019, which co-host Candice Whitney is currently translating with Barbara Ofosu-Somuah. (Candice is on the left and Barbara on the right in the photo above.) I followed up with Candice after watching the event to inquire about the Future anthology and about the translation project (which is currently seeking a publisher). Over several emails in July she and Barbara shared with me more details about the anthology and its writers, their personal encounters with Italy and the Italian language, and their commitment to creating a space for AfroItalian women writers in the English-language literary world.—Margaret

How did the Future anthology originate?

Candice Whitney and Barbara Ofosu-Somuah: Igiaba Scego, historian, journalist, fiction writer, and activist, wanted to create a text that acknowledges the future of Italy. The nation’s colonial legacy has shaped its national identity, citizenship laws, and how it relates to Blackness. For example, immigrants and their children, regardless of if they are born and/or raised in the country, are still othered as foreigners due to lack of citizenship reform.

A small publishing house in Florence, Italy, effequ, reached out to Scego to curate an anthology about migration. She had already edited and worked on influential anthologies related to migration, such as Italiani senza vocazione (Edizioni Cadmo, 2005). Ubah Cristina Ali Farrah, whose literary work connects the present day to the experiences of Somali relatives who moved to Italy, is an example of an artist that Scego collaborated with and admires. However, Scego wanted to pursue a different focus for effequ.

Reflecting on the double-consciousness of her life, specifically experiencing migration through the memory of her parents and living in Italy, Scego wanted to read and share perspectives of women similar yet different from her. The concept of Future was born from this idea. She chose to incorporate perspectives from writers of different generations, and from large and small cities across the nation.These authors write across genres. With this anthology, Scego highlights the diversity of the African diaspora in Italy. Contributors have backgrounds from Eritrea, Burkina Faso, Ghana, Rwanda, Tunisia, Haiti, and more.

While working on the anthology, Scego noticed the shared anger and exhaustion that AfroItalian women face due to systematic racism and discrimination. As such, in the introduction of Future, Scego describes the book as Italy’s contemporary J’accuse (signaling Émile Zola’s open letter to the president of the French Republic), as it “publicly denounces power and injustice.” More about the anthology can be found in a CUNYTV news segment, featuring interviews and readings by contributors Marie Moïse, Angelica Pesarini, and Camilla Hawthorne, hosted by the Calandra Italian American Institute of Queens College. The recording of Stories without Borders: A Conversation with Igiaba Scego, hosted by Casa Italiana of NYU, also focuses on Future and Scego’s other works like Beyond Babylon (trans. Aaron Robertson) and La linea del colore (The Color Line). (This response paraphrases Scego's answer to a similar question during Casa Italiana's virtual event, Stories without Borders).

What were the Fulbright projects that took you to Italy?

Barbara: I began studying Italian at Middlebury College, as a way of connecting with my cousins who were born and raised in the Veneto region. Italy was the only place my cousins had ever lived. Yet, because of their Blackness, they were always treated as outsiders. Learning the language helped me dive deeper into their experiences.

Studying in Italy my junior year sparked new questions about Blackness and sharpened my attention to how transnational contexts inflect the experience of Blackness. In Florence, I met and connected with many young people who, like my cousins, existed between Italian and Outsider – never quite considered Italian because of their Blackness. Meeting them pushed me to begin questioning what Blackness means across geographies and relationships.

So I returned to Italy in 2016 as a Fulbright Researcher to examine the complex interplay of education, citizenship, and identity for first and second-generation immigrant youth. I explored how school teachers create teaching practices that are responsive to these youths’ cultural and linguistic assets. I observed that, despite best intentions, teachers' relationships with Black students often reproduced antagonistic dynamics that led to those students, more than any other racialized group, being labeled as badly behaved or academically deficient. I joined various discussions held by Black Italians. I listened as they unpacked the reality of concurrently embodying Blackness and Italianness in a culture that perceives this duality as incompatible, an “irreconcilable paradox” as framed by Italian scholar Angelica Pesarini.

Candice: At Mount Holyoke College, I enrolled in Italian language courses to understand political commentaries about black communities during the immigration crisis. Through my majors Anthropology and Italian, I broadened my knowledge of analyzing culture and positionality with an intersectional approach to inform my research projects about the politics of Blackness, entrepreneurship, and institutions in Italy. I went to Italy for the first time as a year-long study abroad student in Bologna. My senior thesis analyzed my ethnographic research in that city and argued that Italian immigration laws negatively impact employment prospects for West African merchantmen, regardless of their legal status. Those laws also marginalize and racialize their bodies through biopolitics and biopower. I remained curious about the experiences of businesswomen of African descent and decided to apply for a Fulbright.

As a Fulbright Student Researcher in 2016-17, I researched how Italy’s racial and political history impacts the reception and promotion of businesses owned by African women and descendants in northern Italy. The women I spoke with had businesses in the hospitality, beauty, and e-commerce industries. They either moved to Italy as adults and had been living in the nation for years, or they were born and/or raised there as children and have been there their whole lives. They did not describe themselves as outsiders, even though the nation continues to view and treat them through immigration and exclusive citizenship laws shaped by the nation's colonial past. However, national organizations and political commentators see them as people who will save the country from a slow economy. This is usually juxtaposed with bodies that are considered illegitimate or a threat to the nation, often Black and Brown people of migratory backgrounds who do precarious labor to feed and sustain the needs of the population. I admire how these women challenge the boundaries of entrepreneurship and cultural production in Italy, considering the racist and neoliberal anxieties that impact their projects’ creation and perception.

Like Barbara, I also spoke with activists and changemakers about racial politics and notions of privilege. I was curious about the similarities between my experiences as an African American woman and those of Black Italians and the differences and ways that I may benefit from certain situations due to my Americanness. Tina Campt coined the concept of "intercultural address,” or how we see the commonalities and similarities between African American and Black European experiences through references to the hegemonic black American cultural capital across the globe. This notion significantly impacted my research and the articles I wrote during my Fulbright and currently shapes how I approach translation and promoting AfroItalian women’s voices.

Candice, you talked about doing a review of Future for The Dreaming Machine and mentioned that Pina, the editor, gave you the idea to translate one of its texts-- is that what made you think of doing the entire anthology?

Candice: As we spoke about writing a review in English for the book, Pina also gave me the idea to translate one of its stories. I thought it was a great idea to accompany the review.

I don’t remember the exact moment I decided to translate the anthology, but I do remember planning to do it as we got closer to the event at the Calandra Italian American Institute in February. I shared the idea with Marie Moïse, Angelica Pesarini, and Camilla Hawthorne as we prepared for the live event. It came up during the conversation on the importance of Black translators translating the works of Black authors. Barbara, who also has experience in translation and was also at the live event, shared her enthusiasm, and we decided to collaborate on it.

Barbara, what drew you to this project?

Barbara: I came to this project initially through Candice and then fully committed to it after reading the stories myself and hearing Marie Moïse, Angelica Pesarini, and Camilla Hawthorne, three contributors to the anthology speak at the Calandra Italian American Institute of the City University of New York.

In my various experiences living and studying in Italy, I was always acutely aware of my AfroItalian friends and colleagues’ liminal positionality. Because of my own identity as a Ghanaian American, and my background studying Black transnationalism, I empathize with aspects of their struggle. Nonetheless, I found that I did not always have the full scope of language to explain their specific positionality within the global Black diaspora to my non-Italian friends and colleagues. Translating Future is an opportunity to have these AfroItalian women speak for themselves on the world stage. In my role as a translator, my purpose is to create space for the anthology writers to grapple with and make meaning about their lives and have them be reachable to an English-speaking audience. These stories, which run the gamut of engaging Blackness in many forms is a relational process that I, as the translator, help bring forth.

Candice, you mentioned Tina Campt and her "concept of ‘intercultural address’ or the ways that we see the commonalities and similarities between African American and Black European experiences.” I'm wondering how that has affected your translation strategies in the anthology. And the opposite: are there examples of any differences you've struggled with in the translation?

Candice: Definitely. I think about power as an African American within the African diaspora, specifically amongst African descendants in Europe, and that discourses about race or systemic inequalities can be directly or indirectly about the United States. I try to reflect and act on how I may be contributing to perpetuating a hegemony of Americanness within the diaspora, so I think that one way to try and destabilize that is starting with myself.

As for strategies, Barbara has helped me with this as we work on the translation. One thing is using the word “folks” when perhaps a better word is “people.” I think “folk” is typical, maybe even expected, in American English vernacular, and the word “people” is clearer to all audiences.

Another example is translating racial slurs, which exist in the anthology. Misogynoir is not something that cannot be easily translated from one language to another, without considering the historical trauma those words come from. That’s something I am grappling with.

Like Barbara, I empathize with the struggles that AfroItalian women face. As I translate, I am learning a lot and hugely appreciate these women for sharing their stories. I hope that future readers will experience the same admiration that Barbara and I feel for them and their work.

How many authors are in the anthology?

Candice: Eleven authors contributed stories. The preface and postface were written by two academics, Dr. Camilla Hawthorne, from the U.S. and Prisca Augustoni, from Brazil. Igiaba Scego wrote the introduction.

We both appreciate that the anthology connects the experiences and struggles of AfroItalian women to others in the diaspora, such as Brazil. That type of trans-diasporic dialogue is essential and demonstrates that these histories and futures don't occur in a vacuum, or should only be compared to what occurs in the US.

Do you expect you'll be able to collaborate with the authors as you work on the translation?

Candice: Yes! Thankfully, Barbara and I already had connections with the contributors, either first degree or more. We plan to involve them in the process as we want to make sure that their words are reflected accurately and justly to English-speaking audiences.

Do you have any favorite texts among them?

Barbara: I can’t shake the stories by Marie Moïse or Angelica Pesarini.

Candice: I enjoyed all of them. In addition to the stories by Marie Moïse and Angelica Pesarini, "And Yet There Was Still a Smell of Rain" by Alesa Herero and "The Marathon Continues" by Addes Tesfamariam resonated with me.

#Candice Whitney #Barbara Ofosu-Somuah #Igiaba Scego #Marie Moïse #Camilla Hawthorne #Angelica Pesarini #Future. il domani narrato dalle voci di oggi #AfroItalians in translation

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mssjynx · 5 years

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is it so bad?

daithidewildcat fic . 1372 words . no warnings .

. i think this was one of my punishment fics for saying 10 derogatory female insults but i think i owe about 12 of these at this point. still working on it though! im trying to be better

but here, have some daithidewildcat

“We’re lost.”

Dry tone. Blunt. No emotion other than the underlying vibe of: “How did I know this would happen?”

In response, the corner of a large paper map was thrust into his face as the passenger of the car spread it out in front of the windshield. “No, we’re not!” the Irishman beside him crowed, far too cheerful about the fact that their planned two-hour road trip to the campsite had become a lengthy trek with no ending in sight. “We’re right here on t’e map. Cal… Callehanger road?”

Taking one hand off the wheel to shove the paper back onto the right hand side of the car. “Yeah, dumbass. The road we’ve driven down at least four times now,” Tyler scowled, throwing a glare to Daithi as a building moved into sight. “See that? The service station we passed ten minutes ago, remember?”

The Irishman blinked, watching the building pass before murmuring a short: “Oh.”

Driving into the sun was becoming too sufferable for Tyler, who took a left turn they hadn’t tried before.

“Where are ye goin’ now?” Daithi questioned, stuffing the map over their shoulders into the backseat where it couldn’t get in the way. Not annoyed or worried; merely curious to what it was that Tyler was planning.

But the American gave him a simple shrug, swallowing down his irritation like Brock had assured he try to do more often. There was no point in getting pissed; it wouldn’t get them anywhere any faster. “It’s getting late and we’re gonna need to find somewhere to either set up one of the tents or just sleep in the car,” he explained, taking another turn so the sun was to their backs as he crawled down the streets. Finding a dirt path, he threw his cares to the wind and rolled onwards.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into an open clearing that, by the few cartracks marked into the dirt, may have served as a little car-park in the bushland. Tyler was quick to decide it was a nice play to stop as dusk slipped over them and blanketed the rural land with growing darkness.

The pleasant kind.

“Want me to set up me tent then?” Daithi’s words were never not pleasant and content, popping open his door as Tyler did the same. They met at the back of the car, Tyler giving his friend a firm look.

“Do I trust you not to somehow set it on fire?” Tyler asked. Daithi hummed in thought, opening his mouth to respond seriously before Tyler held up a hand to cut him off. “No. You set up some music and I’ll pop the single tent up.”

Unsurprisingly, there was no grumble from Nogla who only snickered in his amusement before climbing back into the car to find his speaker and phone. By the time he had managed to connect his phone (a good five to ten minutes), Tyler had the base of the tent set up and was circling it to clip everything up and stomp pegs into the ground.

He thought he might have rolled his eyes out of his head when the sound is Nicki Minaj spread itself through their little campsite. The shit-eating grin Daithi wore was fully aware of the torture he was putting his friend through, uncaring for the glare he received as he shook his hips from side to side and awkwardly attempted something of a “sexy” dance.

Tyler scrunched up his nose and turned away. “God, please stop,” he mumbled, striding past his giggling friend and opening the back of the car to pull out their self-inflating mattress. When he found Daithi trying to hula-hoop (without the hoop) he snatched a stick up off the ground and threw it at the Irishman. “If you don’t stop, I’m sleeping in the car,” he threatened, seeing Daithi’s grin broaden, and adding: “with the mattress.”

That grin fell and Daithi dropped his hands mid-hawaiian rotation. Tyler smirked, nodding in approval before pushing the mattress into the tent and popping it open to inflate. He didn’t miss the childish glint in his friend’s eye, shooting him a sharp look.

“No jumping on it. If it pops, I’ll stab you and no one will find your body out here.”

The amused snicker followed him back to the car and he ignored his companion who hovered behind him as he rifled through their stuff. It took them both a few moments with their backs to one another to pull off their jeans and yank on comfortable sleep clothes before Tyler disappeared into the tent and plugged the mattress.

His bundle of blankets fell carelessly on the foot of the mattress, not bothering to make the bed neatly as he fell to the mattress and made himself comfortable. It wasn’t long until the lanky Irishman was pushing clumsily into the tent and struggling with the zipper to shut them in away from the mosquitos.

With how long the idiot took to zip up the tent, Tyler had to bite his tongue to stop himself from grumbling about how they were probably already going to be sleeping with thirty different blood-sucking insects.

The next thing he felt was an elbow to his side, the heel of a foot jamming into the back of his thigh. He yelped, twisting over as Daithi collapsed on the mattress beside him. “Watch it, you dolt!” he snapped, catching the bright blue eyes that rivaled his through the darkness. “Kick me while you’re sleeping and I’ll drag you out into the bush and leave you there,” he snarled.

A look of apology flashed over Daithi’s face, as well as a glimmer of unease. He knew if Tyler was angry enough the American wouldn’t hesitate to carry out his threat and no one would fancy waking up in a mess of some kind of poisonous plant.

Confident his threat had hit its mark, Tyler rolled back onto his back and let his eyes fall shut. Before long, his muscles were relaxing into the comfort of the blanket and he was falling deeply asleep.

Bird song was the first thing he noticed as he was drawn back into consciousness. He was surprisingly warm in the little tent, though he could feel his mattress had deflated beneath his and Daithi’s weight over the night. Even so, he didn’t think he’d ever woken up in a tent feeling so comfortable as he had that morning.

Mind on the chirping of the birds above them, he slowly came to. He tipped his head back further, turning it to hide half his face in his pillow to attempt to block out the light. Soft, fluffy hair met his nose and lips as his chin brushed against something solid. It took a few long seconds for him to shift slightly, realising the weight on his chest was more than just his blankets. Daithi’s head rested on his shoulder, one of his legs laying between Tyler’s. One hand was clutching tightly to Tyler’s shirt, his heartbeat thrumming against the coarse skin of Daithi’s fingers.

Tyler wondered if the sharp speed up of his heartbeat against Daithi’s hand would draw him out of his sleep, his face feeling hot as he took in the whole situation within the tent.

They were cuddling.

A range of possible reactions bolted through his head, shoving Daithi aside and laughing it off, slipping away without him realising, waiting until he woke up, pretending he didn’t even notice. But no matter the panic flaring, he felt his body relax beneath the weight and warmth, hearing a soft snore drop to his shoulder as Daithi shifted closer.

Maybe it didn’t have to be a bad idea… He was comfortable, after all. Was it so bad for him to enjoy the proximity? As drowsiness leaked into the forefront of his mind, he let his head rest back into the pillow, feeling the dark hair brushing against his jaw and the hand in his shirt tighten. Perhaps he could just enjoy the moment of peace and quiet; it wasn’t something he found very often when spending time with the Irishman.

He supposed he could deal with the weird factor when he woke up later.

#daithidewildcat #banana bus squad #bbs #fic #fanfic

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sushigirlali · 5 years

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Admiration - Part I (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I | Part II | Part III

Summary: Padawan Ben Solo struggles to repel Snoke’s odious influence while coming to terms with his feelings for fellow student Rey of Jakku.

Parings: Rey + Ben Solo | Kylo Ren

Continuity: Jedi Academy AU; Rey is 19, Ben is 23.

Rating: E

A/N: This fic is dedicated to my wifey @grlie-girl under the prompt: “Poke me once more and see what happens.” (Which...we’ll get to lol) This is a “what if” scenario where Rey has grown up with Ben at Luke’s Jedi academy. I made Ben 23 because that’s about the age he fell to the dark side in the ST. Maybe things could have gone differently if he’d had Rey at his side back then. Enjoy! Set to Admiration by Incubus.

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr

——————

Admiration - Part I

By: sushigirlali

——————

Could you move in slow motion? Everything goes by so fast Just slow down a little Save the best part for last

——————

Ben marched out of the Jedi training center with his hood up and his head down. It was a struggle to keep his composure given the electrifying events of the last hour, but he did his best to look inconspicuous since several students were congregated in the courtyard outside. Luckily for him, they appeared too distracted by Luke’s latest lesson to pay him any mind.

“But what if you got stuck on some backwater planet during a mission and had to construct a lightsaber from scratch?!” an excited youth queried his friends. “Are synthetic crystals really suitable for Jedi?”

“Master Luke certainly thinks so!” a boy with a brown flat cap exclaimed. “He built a lightsaber with a synthetic kyber crystal on Tatooine and used it to single-handedly take out the entire Hutt Clan!”

“Single-handedly, huh?” Choking back a laugh, Ben imagined how his mother would react to the youngling’s erroneous statement. “She’d probably shrug and say something about boys needing to get their heads out of their cockpits,” he thought fondly, moving from cover to cover until he could slip behind the tall hedges that wrapped around the courtyard, “but deep down her blood would be boiling.”

“The way I heard it, Princess Leia was the one who saved the day!” a girl with fiery red hair piped up as he passed. “All because she and Han Solo were…”

The trio’s voices faded as Ben moved out of range of their conversation, not that he minded in the least. “Rey loves that story, but I’d rather not hear about the princess and the rogue for the thousandth time. They’re my parents, but I’ve never understood how two people could...” Rey’s knowing smile just before he rushed out of the training center flashed through his mind and his groin tightened in remembrance. “Never mind.”

Adjusting his stride, Ben debated the best way to get back to his room undetected. Given the state of his traitorous body, it would be beyond embarrassing to get caught before he could calm down. Stopping only when he reached the end of the hedgerow, Ben opened his senses and peered around.

The temple grounds consisted of the training hall at his back, the dining hall to his left, and the archive building across the courtyard on his right. The living quarters were stationed directly behind the dining hall, but it was likely he’d bump into someone if he went through the communal facility since it was so close to dinner time.

Deciding it would be more prudent to go around the building instead, Ben skirted past the entrance and darted down a small footpath adjacent to the building.

About halfway down the lonely path, Ben realized he was sweating profusely under his thick robes and slowed down to compensate. “Force, it’s hot,” he huffed. “When did it get so hot? It was almost chilly this morning. But now...”

Ben trailed off as he neared the end of the walkway, but his mind was racing. “I wonder if Rey and I have anything to do with the change in temperature?” It was an odd thought, but they were intrinsically intertwined through the Force. And with the Force, anything was possible.

Pushing the notion aside, Ben emerged onto the dirt road that separated the temple from the living quarters and approached his hut. The structure was slightly secluded from the rest, shaded by a few ancient trees and surrounded by a well maintained rock garden. It wasn’t much, but it was his.

Shouldering his way into the dark apartment, Ben closed and locked the door behind him before stripping out of his damp training uniform and tossing the heavy gray fabric onto the floor. Not satisfied, he shed his undergarments as well. “I’ll have to hit the ‘fresher later,” he thought, wiping ribbons of sweat from his brow.

”For now, though…” Ben moved to the silver basin on top of his bookshelf and grabbed a rag to wash his face. The damp cloth was cool against his skin, like an ocean mist on a warm summer day.

Not for the first time, he longed for the peaceful seas and mild weather of his beloved homeworld. “What I wouldn’t give to see Chandrila again,” he mused, retrieving his favorite silk trousers from the top drawer of his dresser. “To see mother and father again, even if they don’t want…” Ben paused, trying to suppress his long standing abandonment issues.

“Don’t focus on the things you cannot change,” he muttered, pulling on his pants with a little more force than necessary. The cool black fabric felt good against his skin, but he was still uncomfortably warm. “Focus on what’s in front of you, like Master Luke says. Focus on the things you can change.”

Sitting cross-legged on the end of his rumpled bed, Ben unlatched his shutters with a wave. A cool wind stirred through the window, giving him a modicum of relief from the punishing heat.

“If only the Force could solve all my problems,” he sighed, thinking of a certain hazel-eyed scavenger.

——————

You speak in riddles Your intentions turn me on I'm your's forever Will you love me when I'm gone?

——————

Laying his palms flat on his knees, Ben acknowledged that the weather wasn’t the only thing making him hot today. Rey had cornered him this afternoon on the pretense of training together, but he should have realized she was up to something the moment she suggested they meet in an isolated meditation chamber far from their Master’s watchful gaze.

“You’re too damn gullible for a Jedi,” he chastised, feeling all kinds a fool for allowing her to catch him off guard again. She was a talented Padawan, his equal in every way, but Rey seemed to want him to see her as a woman first and an apprentice second.

Unfortunately for his young admirer, physical interactions were forbidden to the Jedi, strong emotions taboo. And yet… “You just sat there like a dolt when she started kissing you.” Ben shook his head, trying to forget the sound of Rey’s soft sighs as her lips molded to his, the feeling of her small hands gripping his—

“Dammit!” he groaned aloud, scrubbing his flushed face. “You’re supposed to become a full-fledged Jedi Knight in little under a month! Besides that, there’s a very real chance that Rey will be named your Padawan for the last few years of her training! You cannot get wrapped up with her!” It was a difficult task, though, considering how good she felt in his arms.

“If Master Luke ever found out…” He shuddered to think what would become of them. At the very least, they’d be excommunicated from the New Jedi Order.

Still, it was becoming increasingly impossible to deny his admiration for the young orphan from Jakku, especially since she appeared determined to tempt him into behavior that was most decidedly against the Jedi code.

And therein lie his predicament.

Short of abandoning their Master’s teachings and leaving the Academy, there was no real way they could be together. They weren’t normal people with normal lives who could fall in love without thought to repercussions and...and...

“Wait. Love?” Ben froze at the revelation. “No,” he denied. “It’s not possible.” Taking a deep breath, he tried to clear his mind, desperately seeking guidance. "Your focus determines your reality," he chanted, repeating one of Luke’s most important lessons. “Focus on anything but her.”

——————

When I'm gone, You're an unfenced fire! When I'm gone, Over walls we've trampled! When I'm gone, It's you I admire! When I'm gone, My living example...

——————

Concentrating on the quiet whisper of wind filtering in through his open window, Ben leveled out his riotous emotions and slipped into a meditative state.

Life. Death. Warmth. Cold. Peace. Violence. And between it all, balance and energy. A force.

And inside him, that same force.

Reaching out with his feelings, he explored the remote rock his uncle had claimed for the Jedi. The local flora and fauna, all so familiar to him now, were soaking in the last few rays of light as the planet turned and the sun sank beneath the horizon.

Broadening his search, Ben studied the subtle movement of the massive sphere itself, noting how smooth the planet’s rotation was. The orbital speed was constant, beating a soothing tattoo inside his head.

“Almost like a heartbeat,” he thought, humbled by the complexity of the universe. There was so much he longed to explore once he became a Jedi. Planets, people, the mysterious of—

“Ouch!” Ben winced as a familiar splinter formed in his mind. “No, not now! Not again!”

Something sinister had stirred in response to his probing, calling out to him, urging him toward the black abyss of space. “Come to me, my child,” it bade. “You must fulfill your destiny!”

“No!” Recognizing the intrusion for what it was, Ben tried to lock down his consciousness using a technique he’d learned from Luke. “For better or worse, our family is well acquainted with the struggle between light and dark.”

The rumors and speculation surrounding Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala had plagued his family for years, so Ben was grateful that Luke had prevented him from being blindsided when the whole affair came to light last year.

“I'm not sure how I would have reacted had Luke withheld the truth about my grandparents from me, but with everything out in the open, Luke and I are closer than we’ve ever been.”

“He’s helped me see that I’m not the only one who struggles, that I can have faith in myself despite my failings.” And in all honesty, it was a relief to know that even after donning the evil visage of Darth Vader for so long, Anakin Skywalker’s soul had still been worthy of redemption.

“The love of his son saved him in the end. Despite everything, his Jedi spirit prevailed. The light prevailed.” The notion gave Ben hope.

A malicious cackle broke into his thoughts. “Hope? How trite. There is no hope for you, young Solo.”

“Get out of my head, you murderous snake,” he gritted back. “You’re not welcome here, Snoke. Not anymore.”

Ever since he could remember, there had been a small but persistent voice whispering in his ear, presenting him with all manner of temptations. When he was a child, it was the acceptance he longed for from his parents. As a teenager, power and glory. But just recently, the voice had become desperate, for Ben no longer wanted any of those things. He was a Jedi, like his grandfather before him, and his only goal was to serve the Force.

“Don’t lie,” Snoke said cruelly. “There is still something you covet. Or should I say...someone?”

“Leave her out of this!” Ben raged. All at once he wanted to hit something, to kill. The thought of this creature, this incubus, touching one hair on Rey’s—

“Ben?”

——————

Your eyes are an undiscovered ocean far away Any minute now keeping Both poets and priests at bay Don't get ahead of me Could we just this once see eye to eye? Could you want perhaps me? Ask me how it feels to vie

——————

Eyes flying wide, Ben turned to see Rey crawling through his open window. “Rey! What are you—?”

“Are you alright?” she asked without preamble, slipping onto the bed beside him. “I know you wanted to be alone, but I felt your fear and I—”

“Yes,” he lied. Except it wasn’t really a lie because the sinister voice had gone. Even with Luke’s exercises, the evil wretch still got in sometimes. But when he was with Rey...well, she seemed to drive off his demons.

She gently touched his damp forehead. “Were you meditating?”

“What? Oh, yes,” he said, coming back to reality. “Or, trying to,” he corrected, catching himself before he melted into her touch.

“Can I join you?”

“I don’t—” But she was already moving behind him. “Okay, then,” he sighed, half turning to look at her. “Do you actually want to mediate this time, or...?” She was facing the opposite direction, but Ben was wary of her intentions.

“I have no idea what you mean,” she said, copying his lotus pose.

“Really?” he replied sardonically. “I seem to recall you asking me to meditate this afternoon when in actuality you wanted—”

“Your virginity?” she filled in.

“Rey!” Ben exclaimed, astonished by her lack of tact. “You can’t say things like that!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s—it’s—you just can’t!” he stuttered.

Rey met his troubled gaze. “Would you rather I lie?”

“Of course not!” he denied. “Though it might be easier to ignore my feelings if you did.”

“Ben, what’s wrong?” she said plainly.

“Besides the fact that you keep trying to seduce me?”

“Besides that,” Rey agreed. Her tone was even, but he could sense her smirking behind his back.

“Nothing, I just…” How did one confess that a mad man was trying to break into one’s mind at every given opportunity?

“It’s him, isn’t it?” she said quietly. “Snoke.”

“Yes.” It was uncanny, the way Rey always seemed to know what was troubling him before he could find the words.

“Not uncanny,” she returned, easily reading his unguarded thoughts. “It’s fate.”

Ben’s shoulders tensed. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” she said confidently. “Now tell me about Snoke.”

Knowing how protective she was, he tried to play it off. “It was nothing. The usual.”

“There’s nothing usual about an evil wizard trying to sway you to the dark side, Ben,” she countered. “Try again.”

“Really, Rey? What are you? My mother?” he grumbled. “Why did I even tell you about him to begin with?”

“Because you trust me.” She leaned back against him to prove her point and, damn her, the contact calmed his frayed nerves like a spiritual balm. “Now stop kriffing around and tell me the truth.”

Put that way… “He’s become weak in the last few years, desperate. But that only makes him more dangerous, not less, and I’m afraid…”

She rested her head on his shoulder, further improving his sense of being. “Yes?”

“I’m afraid he’ll hurt you to get to me,” he admitted. It was a revealing statement, but he owed her the truth. Rey’s life was on the line as much as his own now.

“So, he knows how we feel about each other,” she said matter-of-factly. Rey sounded less concerned than he’d expected, but she was like that.

“I’m like what?” she asked playfully.

“Brave—and annoying,” he informed her. Ben reached up and tugged on one of her looping buns. “Also, stop reading my thoughts. It’s rude.”

“Stop shouting them at me then,” she snorted. “Our bond goes both ways, Ben. If you really want to shut me out—”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he said haltingly. “I just have a hard time keeping my head on straight when you ambush me like you did in the training hall.”

“Oh.”

“Not that I’m blaming you for Snoke!” he went on hurriedly. “You’ve always been there for me, Rey. You mean everything to me.”

“Really?” She searched for his hand.

“Yeah.” He let her take it.

“Ben?” she started seriously, lacing her fingers through his.

“Yes?”

“What happened this afternoon. What’s been happening between us for a while…” She drew in a deep breath. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but you must allow me to tell you how—

“Don’t.”

“But, I—”

“You can’t,” he interrupted again. “We’re Jedi. So, whatever you’re feeling is—”

“I love you,” she continued fiercely. “And I think you love me too.”

“No.” Ben shook his head even as his heart leapt. “You and I...we’re...”

“Yes,” she insisted, turning around to embrace him. “You and I. We’re meant to be together, Ben.”

“No, I--I didn’t mean…” he tried, sounding unconvincing even to his own ears.

“You feel so good,” she sighed, running her hands up and down his toned biceps. “Every time you’re near all I want to do is crawl into your arms and stay there forever.” Rey fit herself even closer, nuzzling her cheek against his bare shoulder. “I want you so much, Ben.”

“Stop it,” he said in an agonized whisper, aroused by her words as much as her touch.

“What if I don’t?” she replied, equally as hushed. “What if I strip off the rest of your clothes, mine, and make love to you until the sun comes up?” Rey slipped her arms under his, skimming her slim fingers up and down his naked chest in a hypnotic rhythm. “What if I take you in my hands, my mouth, inside me, everywhere...what then?”

Ben shivered at her seductive challenge, so turned on he could barely speak. “Then I would be ruined.”

“Is that why you’re scared of me?” she murmured sadly. “Because you think I’d sully you?”

“No, never,” he refuted, wanting to comfort her even as she drove him crazy. “You’re beautiful, a warrior; I could never be ashamed of you.”

“Then why? Why are you so scared of me?”

“I’m not!”

“Ben, you’re shaking,” she charged softly, able to feel every subtle movement of his body as she cradled him from behind. “And this afternoon, you ran away from me.”

“I ran because I wasn’t sure what would happen if I gave into my feelings for you,” he said huskily. There was no hiding his physical response to her closeness now, so he didn’t even try. Instead, Ben decided to go for broke; to chase her away before it was too late for either of them. “Rey, I can't do this.”

“But—”

“No, you’re not listening to me!” he thundered. “I’m not saying I don’t want to; I’m saying I can’t!”

“Why?” she said, her question a plea.

“Because there’s something wrong with me, Rey,” he said gruffly. “Something that’s always been there, poisoning me from the inside out. And I’m afraid that if we get any more involved, it’ll infect you too.”

——————

A/N: The Snoke Age of Resistance comic came out today, so all aboard the Ben Solo pain train!! Hopefully this alternate version of events will help ease it a little. I’ve got Part II about half way written, and it will include some sexy times. Would love to hear what y’all think so far! Check out my other fics, I have a ton!

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo fic #reylo fanfiction #ben solo #kylo ren #rey #jedi academy au #luke skywalker #admiration #song fic #ily wifey #my fanfiction #sushigirlali #snoke comic #felt appropriate to post today

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sokaiweek · 5 years

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Recovery (Aka Training together) Sokai Week Day 2

(Day 2)

Sora hissed as he sat up in bed.

Looking down at his arm, the bandages were still secure from his elbow up to his wrist. It had been a solid week since he escaped from Shibuya with Riku, and only four days since he woke up from the ensuing coma he succumb to after him, Riku, Kairi, Donald, and Goofy had fought him off. Fought him off, more like got bored with. he thought dryly as he cradled his still healing arm. When he finally woke up to Kairi sleeping in a chair next to him in Radiant Garden, where he had found out just how serious in injuries were. The cut on his wrist was deep but thankfully hadn’t been infected with anything, he had two broken ribs which were tapped, a concussion that hopefully was gone by now, the tendons in his legs were twisted, there were burns on his back and bruises littering his body, and he had trouble hearing out of his left ear.

And that was just the physical damage, his magic reserved where bone dry and would take at least a month or so until they were replenished. The abilities that he learned where still there thankfully, unlike after his failed Mark of Mastery exam, but due to his physical limitations he couldn’t use them or maintain proper training. His stamina also took a major hit, his days in and out of consciousness had left him weak, he felt like a Shadow could take him out again.

It was one thing when he had been depowered before, the mark of mastery was a trap that no one saw coming, and from what he understood his year long slumber was so he would remember all his friends again. But this time…..it felt different, it wasn’t something beyond his control this time. Shaking those thoughts aside, Sora lifted his legs over the side of the bed, he tried putting his weight forward but his ribs spiked with pain. “Angh!” he grunted out covering his ribs with his good arm. He heard a muffled sound out his ear, but he paid it no mind and focused on nursing his ribs.

He wished a high powered Curaga would take care of these injuries but apparently all that did was alleviate his pain for a while. Arieth told him that his injuries would take time to heal, that magic can only do so much. The spikey haired brunette let out a tired sigh, he was improving but it was terribly slow going. A muffled voice made his head snap over to the door to his temporary room, in the doorway stood Kairi looking at him with concern, “Are you ok?” she asked, her voice less muffled now that Sora was aware of her.

He looked down at his feet, he wasn’t ok, he was far from ok. “I’m…” he pursed his lips together, unable to find the right words. Kairi didn’t need to hear them, she carried herself over to his bed and sat herself down beside him carefully, her hand reached out to his and interlocked their fingers together. The action instantly calming Sora’s frustration, “I’m sorry if I woke you up.” he apologized, daring to look over at her.

Yet Kairi smiled at him, she smiled in a way that made Sora’s chest ache in the best way, “Don’t be sorry…..and you didn’t wake me up. I couldn’t sleep.” she explained, her other hand reaching over and clasping her other hand over the one she held.

Sora took notice of her apparel, she was still wearing her evening clothes, a pair of grey sweatpants and a violet tee shirt. It was…..odd seeing her in something so casual, so normal. “I got used to getting up early. When Donald, Goofy and I were looking for you, I would wake up as soon as I can, rag them out of bed too, and get searching…..but all we ended up doing was-“

“That wasn’t your fault.” Sora interrupted calmly, “We’ve all just been…..pawns in a game. We didn’t realize it.” he said sagely, surprising the redhead with his somber tone. Sora had always been a constant ball of positive energy, the biggest optimist she’s ever known……but after Shibuya, or whatever the world’s name that Riku had told her, that bright ball had lessened it’s glow.

Her smile faltered from his empty voice, her hand left his hand reached up to the side of his face, gently turning his face to her’s. A year ago she wouldn’t be so bold as to even think of doing such a gesture, back then it might have been a little too intimate for two friends…..but that was then. That was before she realized the stakes, before she had offered to share a paopu fruit with him and seal their destinies together forever, before the Keyblade war. Before they all lost him……before she lost her Sora for six months.

Her eyes stared into his, he glanced over at her hand and his lip curved downward before reaching his wounded arm up to touch her’s but only making it halfway before the pain made him hiss out and drop it. The act made her heart clench, Sora was the strongest person she had ever met, perhaps not in the literal sense but he always seemed so……powerful to her. He was the deciding factor in the Keybalde War, if not for him then they would have lost a dozen times over. It was a fact, something that the others seemed to share.

Even when he came back, battered and beaten he fought alongside her like the wounds where nothing. But now he seemed so…..frail.

And he didn’t like it, she could see that.

“You’ll be ok Sora.” she assured, his eyes snapping back into her’s. She smiled as she recalled hearing from Merlin about his progress during her training, even after being sapped of his powers he came back stronger than ever. “It might take a while but…..I have no doubt that you’ll be back to your old self before you know it.” she guaranteed.

Sora briefly smiled, moved by how she believed in him…..but it quickly faltered, “Kairi….I can’t even hold my Keyblade right now.” he said, looking down at his bandaged arm. He hadn’t healed enough to regain his full range of motion for it, and even then he could barely hold a half glass of water without straining. “I know you believe in me…….and that means so much to me.” he enforced. “But…..I’m useless….”

Kairi looked at Sora in utter disbelief. Him? Useless!?!?!

“You are not useless.” she stated firmly, “Sora look at everything you’ve done! You’ve saved the worlds how many times? You beat every single Organization member almost by yourself, we won because of you-“

“And everyone died……including you.” he interrupted harshly, his look of anger retreated back and was immediately replaced with regret, “I-I’m sorry I didn’t-“

Kairi shook her head slowly, “No….Sora it’s ok….” she said softly, the fearful look in Sora’s eyes making it click for her. Sora had suffered physically from their battle from the Master of Masters, but not once had any of them considered what the mental toll on him had been from the Keyblade war. He saw each and every one of them die right in front of him, even though she herself hadn’t faded during the Demon Wave, Sora watched her be struck down right before his eyes…..and wasn’t able to do anything.

Her hands reached for his, “Sora…..do you want to go for a walk?” she asked.

The teen looked down at his legs, he wasn’t crippled by any means but he only started taking steps on his own two days ago. And he couldn’t go very fast, or very far. “I…..I don’t want to slow you down.” he answered bashfully.

Kairi smiled at him, “I don’t care…..I just want to spend some time with you.” she replied truthfully. Her smile only broadened when she saw the way his face turned red, she was forward about her feelings now, after spending so long dancing around them with him and nearly losing him? She refused to skirt around her feelings for him.

“I….um….might need….help…getting up.” he embarrassingly admitted. Kairi stood from the bed and walked in front of him, with a powerful pull he didn’t expect from her he was on his feet with no trouble. “Oh….ok.”

She smirked up at him, “Swinging a Keyblade around is good for the arms.” she explained, holding her arm out and flexing it proudly, Sora could make out a defined shape in her skin. Taking his hand in her’s, she let Sora take the lead and set their pace. One foot in front of the other, their speed was admittedly a snail’s pace through the house of the Restoration Committee, by the time they made it out the front door, Sora’s legs were aching. Kairi could tell as much from how his hand was squeezing her’s, “Here’s a nice spot.” she offered, gesturing to the bench right outside the house.

Reluctantly, Sora sat down in a huff. Kairi took her seat next to him as Sora looked down at his feet in disappointment. “I’m sorry.” he apologized. “I’m just….” he was about to say useless again but remembering Kairi’s reaction from earlier, he stopped himself.

She shook her head, “Sora, it’s ok to be frustrated.” she assured, the brunette looking at her with surprise as she looked down at her own hand. “When you disappeared…..I blamed everyone….I blamed Riku for letting you go after me, but that didn’t last long. He missed you just as much as I did…..and I can never stay mad at him.” she added with a smirk. “I blamed King Micky for the same reason, I…..I still blame Yen Sid for not telling you more about the Power of Waking. And…..other things.” she said bitterly, surprising Sora. “But out of everyone…..I blamed myself the most….I thought that if I had been better, if I had been stronger, then you never would have been put in that position in the first place.” she explained.

The logic was sound to her at first, if she hadn’t been captured she wouldn’t have been killed, she wouldn’t have been killed, Sora would still be there……except for one simple fact. “But I realized….it didn’t matter, if it wasn’t me that fell then it would have been someone else…..and I know you would have gone to save them as much as you would me.” she said knowingly. She glanced over at Sora, the teen had a look of guilt over his face, “That’s not a bad thing!” she quickly added, “That’s one of the best things about you Sora, you care for everyone.”

The island boy smiled at her praise, “I mean yeah, they’re all my friends…..but your……your special Kairi.” he admitted unashamed.

Kairi felt her face warm up, “My point is…I was in a bad mindset for a while…..but the way I got out of it was just…..taking a small step forward each day.” she said, her hand gesturing to him. “You couldn’t get out of bed five days ago, today you made it all the way through the house out here!” she said enthusiastically. Her hand rested on his knee, “It’s going to take some time…..but you’ll be ok Sora….I know it.”

Her faith in him was unwavering, and Sora honestly didn’t think he deserved it but she still gave it too him. One step forward….he could do that. “Kairi…..thank you.” he said gratefully, the redhead beaming back at him as she scooted herself closer to his side, her head gently laid down on his shoulder as not to hurt him. “I…..I missed you…..so much….”

“I missed you too.” she replied dreamily, shutting her eyes and listening to his breathing soothingly. Looking down at her resting form, Sora’s throat dried at how beautiful she looked. There was a long time that he wouldn’t use that word to describe her, not that he thought she wasn’t pretty before but now he could think it without being embarrassed. Lifting his bandaged arm, he wrapped it around her hack, making her eyes open as he embraced her with his one arm. Looking over she smiled softly at him, her face leaned in close to his, her soft lips pressing against his wounded cheek.

Pulling away she nearly laughed when she slowly saw Sora’s face turn crimson, One step at a time. Physically, Mentally, and…..romantically.

#sokaiweek2019 #sokaiweek #sokai #fanfiction #day 1 #avatarconner #long post #submission

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burnoutscoach · 5 years

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Burn-out Counseling This is how brain waves help you relax and recover

With exercise, fatigue, exhaustion and burnout it is essential to give your body the chance to recover. The best way is to sleep a lot. You will recover mentally and physically in deep sleep. In addition, it is important to also relax during the day. You do that by meditating, walking in nature and being nice in flow. This article explains how that works exactly and how you can relax and recover even deeper. You will also receive a concrete exercise based on Binaural Beats that you can do every day. The functions of brain frequencies

In your head information is constantly exchanged via electric currents. That goes in the different parts of your brain at multiple speeds. We call that brain frequencies.

The brain frequencies determine how you shape and process information, perception and reality. What you learn in one frequency is not accessible in another frequency. Although all frequencies are always present, you need a connection to gain access to each frequency.

You achieve that connection by relaxing, meditating and being nice and in flow. If you mainly work at the higher frequencies, then we say that you are in your head a lot. That you try to analyze and conceive everything. Especially theoretically trained people do this.

If you work primarily in the lower frequencies, then you are primarily physically active. Then we say that you respond far too primarily. But also that you run around like a headless chicken. Then you respond very primarily to everything you perceive. Practically trained people in particular do this.

If the higher and lower frequencies are "connected" by the intermediate frequencies then you are wonderfully active and clear in the here and now. Then you are nice and active and you make wise and supported decisions. Then you do your thing calmly and relaxed. This is what you want! The subdivision of brain frequencies

Scientists can measure the different brain frequencies via measuring equipment. They also see in which parts of your brain they are active and have their origins. The brain frequencies are subdivided into groups with a certain range: Gamma (25 - 70 Hz)

Gamma brain frequencies cause clarity, eureka moments and ensure connection and alignment between head, heart and abdominal brains. To experience all the benefits, they must be supported by lower frequencies. Otherwise you will get nervous and irritated. Especially if you are in nature, gamma frequencies thrive optimally. Beta (13 - 24 Hz)

Beta brain frequencies provide a clear, conscious and active mind. They are particularly present in normal daily functioning, problem solving and experiencing reality. The higher Beta frequencies cause stress, anxiety, overwhelming and panic attacks. The lower Beta frequencies make you aware of your subconscious. Alpha (8 - 12 Hz)

Alpha brain frequencies are connected with a relaxed clarity and flow. They are important for insights, creativity and reflection. In particular because they are the connection between the higher and lower brain frequencies. They cause coherence between all your brains. They open your sensory experiences and your gut feeling. Theta (4 - 7 Hz)

Theta brain frequencies are particularly present in deeper reflection, psychological recovery, processing of experiences and healing trauma. Sleeping and deep meditation stimulate Thèta frequencies. Thèta frequencies are strongly present in babies and young children. Theta frequencies are beyond language and active awareness. Delta (0.5 - 3 Hz)

Delta brain frequencies are responsible for physical recovery and strengthening the immune system. They are particularly present in deep sleep where there is normally no clear consciousness. Delta frequencies in deep sleep ensure that you process all information and decisions that you have gained during the day. The connecting factor

Alpha brain frequencies in particular provide the connection between the higher and lower frequencies. If you have little alpha activity it can lead to stress, anxiety, exhaustion, aimlessness, indecision, procrastination, uncertainty, superficiality, add and ADD. So the question is how you can stimulate and use Alfa brain frequencies!

To produce more Alpha brain waves you can meditate, walk in nature, be nice in flow, do something relaxing, practice mindfulness, broaden your consciousness, relax your jaw and tongue, do the Quantum Coherence Training and you can listen to Binaural Beats. What are binaural beats?

Binaural beats arise from two different tones: One tone for the left ear and another tone for the right ear. The difference between the two tones causes the brain to generate a third difference tone. This third tone is called the binaural beat.

These binaural beats correspond to the different brain frequency and thus help you to get into a certain mood. You just have to put on headphones and turn on the tones. You do not have to listen to it actively because your brain naturally does the work for you. Playlist on Spotify

On Spotify you will find all sorts of free songs with binaural beats. Usually the binaural beat is made more interesting by adding music and bird sounds. Otherwise it's a bit boring!

I have also created a playlist that is meant to relax and restore your body. Especially for when you are burnout, stressed, exhausted or tired. Because your head is overflowing with analysis, or if you have lost the connection with your body. Exercise to relax and recover

I have made a simple exercise for you to relax and restore your body and head. I combine a number of methodologies to make it as simple, practical and effective as possible. Spotify playlist with binaural beats

Via this link you go to the 'Binaural Induction' playlist that I created on Spotify:

Click here to go to my 'Binaural Induction' playlist on Spotify.

You need to listen to the songs with stereo earphones or headphones (otherwise it won't work). Set the volume to a pleasant level (you can still hear ambient sounds). Sit or lie down comfortably. Listen the songs in the order of the list (click on the first song and not on 'shuffle' because then Spotify will throw everything together). Stimulate extra Alpha frequencies

To stimulate extra Alpha frequencies, follow these steps when starting the playlist (ps you can apply these steps as a separate exercise):

Sit down in a quiet place and close your eyes Relax your tongue and jaw Slowly slow your breathing Expand your awareness (become aware of the space around you)

What happens when you listen to this playlist?

You will first call Alpha frequencies to open the connection. Then you go to Thèta for mental recovery. You then continue to Delta for a physical recovery. While you relax in Delta, you are going to produce Gamma brain waves for more clarity and energy.

I end with a nice case number (Reset your Brain) to wake up and come back to the here and now (very handy!).

Try to do this exercise at least once a day! You will soon notice change. Do you want to know and learn more?

In another article on this blog you will find my free meditation course. Do it once and see how you can combine meditation with binaural beats and walking in nature. Make sure that you are as flexible as possible in the possibilities for producing more Alpha brain waves.

You can also find playlists with only Alpha, Theta, Delta or Gamma frequencies on Spotify. You can use that if you want to concentrate on one frequency. For example when studying (Alpha), sleeping (Delta) or developing creativity (Gamma). Just try!

In my Lead2Flow program you learn many more techniques and insights about energy, leadership, assertiveness and communication. I find it enormously important for me to continuously develop and I want to help you with that.

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manjuhitorie · 6 years

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Hitorie - ai/SOlate Meetia Interview

http://meetia.net/interview/hitorie-aisolate/

A leader of the vocaloid scene, wowaka, and satan and doggo and the old man who writes the Chikyuu Monogatari manga on this Meetia as well, have been the best rock band ever since 2012. yes, yes  They delivered. They made a new album of 6 songs with the title “aiSOlate”. A title with many meanings behind it, it’s deep baby, deep. With the pre-released song Unknown Mother Goose at it’s heart, it’s an album that’s delivers that good good Rie sound, while at the same time is full of songs of a broadened range, yes sure Fortunately, I had the chance to interview them before their album was released. And I could feel how this album was a step towards their new phase. How do I put their stimulative words into a report though, even after thinking about, it was tricky but, I’ve decided to start by writing about the manga “Slam Dunk”.

Why “Slam Dunk”? Well, actually anything like “Kuroko no Basket” or “DEAR BOYS” would work too, I just want to start with the subject of basketball.

When I first saw the title “ai/SOlate”, as an author who used to be in the basketball club, I almost automatically thought of “isolation”. Isolation is a play that involves the other 4 players to open up half of the court, to separate the two most skilled players for a one-on-one. The four other players clump on the left side of the court, so they can freely fight one-on-one on the empty right side. It’s a strategy that only comes into play when you have an overwhelmingly strong aggressive one player. For example, the first time isolation happens in the manga “Slam Dunk” is during the high school tournament battle of Shohoku vs. Ryonan. Ryounan’s player Fukuda “Fukuchan” Kicchou, who possess overwhelmingly strong aggression, starts an isolation one-on-one wirh Shohoku’s “anxious” Sakuragi Hanamichi. And the match begins to fall in Ryonan’s favor… Well, it would be better to read “Slam Dunk” to understand more than the gist of it but. If we were to compare Hitorie’s album to basketball, the one with the title “ai/SOlate” and Unknown Mother Goose” in it, then, completely without a doubt, it’s an album of isolation, freely displaying the power of it’s overwhelmingly strong ace, wowaka. 

 Let’s dig into it. First of all, it’s about how this album was produced. Up until “IKI” Hitorie would produce by just the other bandmates responding to wowaka’s orders; wowaka would review their work and judge whether it was good or bad. Yet by “IKI” wowaka and the bandmates have changed how interact with each other, it’s evolved into “something more like we’re running alongside each other”.

So what was it like this time around.

 “It was sort of like, we went back to how it used to be?　wowaka was really getting into making it and all” proclaimed shinoda. Yet, there was a reason as to why he was proclaiming so airily.  “That’s certainly what happened analytically but, it actually felt completely different. It was like we’ve become able to communicate with each other without words. There were times when we didn’t have to talk much, I think, there’s much more times where we can understand each other without words nowadays. (Yumao)”. “Yumao said it. That’s how it would be analytically but, the peace of mind and the sense of trust that comes with this is something completely different. I think that this album might be full of our new approach to music, and a new challenge with our hearts. (wowaka)” These are the keywords, the “peace of mind and sense of trust” words that came out of wowaka’s mouth. Just as isolation is the play that allows aces to freely battle, if can never happen unless the team has a sturdy trust between them. As even if he were to miss the shot, the center field can take the rebound. Even if the enemy team were to steal, the guard can stop the attack-. It’s a relationship of trust that brings out each other’s strengths, it’s only a strategy that teams who have obtained trust can accomplish.

So, why was Hitorie able to create an album like isolation. A hint lies in their “IKI” production and tour. Now that we’re done with the introduction, from here on is going to be a normal interview. “IKI” to confirming yourself The album “IKI” was full of moods like “Compromising with other people” or “A sense of unleashing” and “Happiness”. So what kind of evolution happened during a tour after that album. “Our ‘IKI’ tour was one that let us confirm, the freedom and the happiness we achieved during the album production, this real sense of being alive, what kind of people we are and what we want to do, and making that all a little more into our reality. Through spending half a year, trading moods with our audience amidst a concrete atmosphere… The things we put into our album became something real. Our final at Shinkiba was emo. (wowaka)” wowaka’s tweet from after the live show was moving. I had referenced it in my IKI live report as well but, I’m bringing it back in this interview now too.

[ wowaka’s tweet “My mom came to Shinkiba and told me she was moved by it. I’m glad I pursued music.” https://twitter.com/wowaka/status/861941056501293056 ]

wowaka said “My mother came all the way from Kagoshima to Tokyo for me, saw my live and told me that ‘I was moved’. That was the first time she’s ever said something like that to me, so I was surprised. Even just talking about it now is going to make me emo but…., I felt, glad that I worked so hard to get here.“ and, even now, his “emo” feeling seemed about ready to overflow when he was looking back at the Shinkiba final. Happiness, a real sense of being alive, who you are. The “IKI” tour was one to confirm all that, and it ended in a big success. However, after that Hitorie started to decrease in live appearances. “I wanted to concentrate on producing this summer. To shutout a bunch of other things, and just simply make time to make things” were wowaka’s words. Which ygarshy responded to with “We talked about that in the izakaya didn’t we.”, nodding like he was missing those days too. “Even though we had converged with so many people and gained such happiness through ‘IKI’, this time we did the opposite, and broke up with them. What came out of holing up and working for 2-3 months was “Unknown Mother Goose” and all the songs in this album. (wowaka)” The idea of “holing up and producing” also links up with the title of “ai/SOlate”, doesn’t it. It seems like we’re finally reaching the core of this interview. “That works too. ‘ai/SOlate’ was, for me, a way to properly come back to what I have done, and to what I want to do. Just like how our band name started off as ‘Hitori (alone) Atelier’ yet then was shortened into ‘Hitorie’, I started this thing alone yet, as it goes through each of our members’ existences and interpretations and meanings, it then goes off to stab the heart of any lone listener. That’s what my image of music is. That’s what type of music I’ve come to accept and have been touched by. I think there’s a strength in being alone and unaided. I firmly trust in it. The feeling of ‘nobody is here for me’, I think anyone has to some degree. I started making music off of the motive power of such. I was able to confirm that through IKI and the tour. (wowaka)” With such solitude, what sake do you make music for? wowaka, who makes music off the motive power from the feeling of “no one is here for me”. In using such solitude, what sake does he make music for? “That was the question I confronted next, and the answer was, “human”. I want to interact with humans more, and in a weird way I want to become human too. There’s something that happens between one person and another, and I want to see what that is for myself. So when I thought about it, for me that was ‘love’. Consciously using the word “love” was a first for me, even in my lyrics even in my daily life. That was “Unknown Mother Goose”. The happiness and anger that comes with being with other people, then wanting to spread this sphere of every emotion all the way out to space. That’s my image. And so, if you put that into one word, then I think that’s ‘love’.” For Hitorie, up until now ‘love’ was something that was ‘played backwards’ (in ‘Imperfection’) or ‘almost forgotten’ (in ‘Ikitagari no Ko’). Yet this time, it’s a theme that’s laid out directly. “Unknown Mother Goose” starts with the lyric ‘If I were to preach of love, How would your eyes picture it?’ “That’s why it’s ‘ai/SOlate’, because I finally found ‘love’. It means ‘Love that came out at last’. Moreover, an alone and unaided ‘Isolate’, and a love that came out at last, I was able to express those together as ‘ai/SOlate’ and, it makes sense, it’s all definitely two sides of the same coin. Even as an alone and unrelated Isolate, I’m fighting to find the ‘love’ that comes out of interacting with people, that’s the very thing I’m trying to do, that’s what I’m trying to say.” The importance of “Unknown Mother Goose” The song that’s the heart of ‘ai/SOlate’, ‘Unknown Mother Goose’ is a very important song. If there’s such thing as the vocaloid scene, and on the other side there’s such thing as the band scene, then think as if there’s something in between them separating them. As, Vocaloid “is something that they cannot accept at all” (quote: Wada Takeaki interview). However, “Unknown Mother Goose” breaks that separation, or could it even be said that it fuses them. Just like how most people don’t say “guitar scene” or “bass scene”, maybe people will no longer say “Vocaloid scene”. I threw that question at them but, completely different answers came back at me. These boys hold the whole scene in respect, yet, they say that it’s like their songs are more personal. Yumao says that “I’m just satisfied that we were able to deliver high quality songs”, and Shinoda says that “There’s no need to mix the two, and, as long as there’s people doing them then won’t the scene stay alive?”. For ygarshy, from the beginning “there was nothing separating the Vocaloid scene and the band scene”. wowaka’s thoughts were the same. “I didn’t have even a milliliter of intention to ‘break the wall’ with this song, and Hitorie isn’t really something that we wanted to be a bridge between Vocaloid and bands. It’s more of something at a micro-level. For me, I had come to Tokyo and met Vocaloid, I got people to look at me but, I became unable to understand who ‘me’ even was, and, that’s when I started Hitorie. That’s why I made the song I had to make, with the methods I’ve used to write for these past 5 years, I made the song I wanted to make now. Of course, I think there are different implications when I sing a Vocaloid song as Hitorie. So based on that too, it’s a song that’s essentially personal.” Living troubled by the feeling that “I’m being misunderstood” Besides the word “Unknown”, there’s lyrics such as “Nobody knows who I am” in NAI., and the nuance of the lyrics about “I’m not understood” stand out in this album. For wowaka, who writes the songs and the lyrics, he said that he distinctly feels that “What I really think never gets across”. “I’ve always been troubled and conflicted by that. That I’m being misunderstood in a lot of ways huh. I said that the scene has nothing to do with this, yet I want to talk about the scene but (laughing). For about 2 years after 2009, back when I posted Vocaloid songs and made CDs, everything that I had received from the scene was really so sparkly. So sinless, so pure. Yet, in 2011 I felt that the situation was beginning to get suspicious.” He was laughing painfully as he tapped his fingers on the table. He opened up with “It’s not like I’m attacking anyone specifically but…”, and wowaka continued on saying this. “Put simply, the problem is as to whether there is love or there isn’t. If it’s not just an act. Back then, I felt that something really lame was coming towards me. This sort of ‘If you use Vocaloid and do this, we can get people together, we can start a business, we can deceive the children.’ theories and atmosphere. I’m saying this pretty brutally but, there actually was such going on at the time. That was painful to me. What felt hard to me was, that I was being seriously put into this superficial mess.” As someone who carried the Vocaloid scene, wowaka gained many followers. And one after another, most Vocaloid songs were being impacted by wowaka. People even say that he invented the “Vocaloid-sounding song” format. However, the fact that songs which were just crudely tracing the surface of that format kept popping and popping up, started to torment him.  Exclaiming a yet unknown story as one song “Thinking about it know, I think I was really mad at the time. I was depressed. Because of that, the answer to the conflict of ’Who am I’ was, Hitorie. Yet, at the time there was people who listened to us and said “Will wowaka do Vocaloid again” or “wowaka sounds cooler when he’s not the one singing”, or even “wowaka’s Vocaloid songs sound so inorganic and mechanical and cool”. When I heard those voices, I felt that what I treasure the most isn’t even conveying clearly. For me, there’s actually something more that I want to convey. There’s absolutely a story that was yet unknown to Miku and I, to Shinoda, ygarshy, Yumao and Hitorie. So now is the time, let’s explain that all as one song. “Unknown Mother Goose” is a song made out of those feeling, isn’t it.” What’s being said amidst one album is always all connected The song that was placed as the final track of the album, “NAI.”, the sound of it and the lyrics all scream Hitorie. It feels like a compilation of all their work up until now. However, if you listen to the album in order from song one, the lyrics to “NAI” are exceedingly interesting. It’s because, there’s lyrics that sound as if they’re rejecting the contents of song one “Absolute”. For example, the part “The word absolute, has nothing to do with me anymore”. However if you ask wowaka, he said that “The’s two songs are actually saying the same thing”. “On the other hand of the vector of the emotion “happiness” that I confirmed through ‘IKI’, I also want to treasure the opposite. I had been really mad in the past, and I hadn’t even realized that. At the end of burdening that and ailing all alone I started Hitorie. I had not known how to use my emotions. But I know now. That’s why I wanted to write lyrics using those emotions in their entiretly, from every direction, from every angle. For me those emotions are something “absolute”. Except, that is entirely how it is to me, now I want to ask ‘So what do you think?’. That’s the reason that I came up with the lyric ‘It’s not absolute’. That’s why it’s not rejection, the contents of ‘Absolute’ and ‘NAI.’ are actually the same. That’s how it always is but, what’s being said amidst one album is always all connected.” Hitorie’s 2017 To summarize, because he created a vector of happiness, ‘IKI’, wowaka found the chance to confront his past. So, through once again holing up and producing, with ‘Unknown Mother Goose’ as the start, the swarm of songs ’ai/SOlate’ was born. Even though it’s an album that started from extremely personal emotions, in it you can strongly feel a connection with society. ‘ai/SOlate’ is an album that almost connects Hitorie’s past and present.

Lastly, I asked what 2017 was like for them, the year where they created a monumental piece. “I got good at drawing manga this year. During the time when wowaka was concentrating on producing, I was focused on drawing. I wrote “Chikyuu Monogatari” on meetia, and I wrote a manga for Wada Takeaki’s (Kurage-P) album ‘Watashi no Miseinen Kansen’. (Shinoda)” “I feel like I was hit with a thousand baseballs this year. Or I went to catch every ball this year or something. That’s why this album, I think that people who listen to only the bass will say that, there were seconds where they thought it sounded more simple than before, but I’m just playing way more fast and complicated now than before. That’s how much my body strengthened (ygarshy).” “Drum-wise, I learned exactly what it is I can do and what I can’t do this year. That’s why, I’m really troubled right now. How do I learn to do what I couldn’t do. I think I’m having a lot of troubles involving that, and I feel like I’m about to enter a new phase. Well, I won’t know until I try but (Yumao).” “I found a place where I can be myself this year and, for me this year was a turning point in my life. In just that year, the fact that I was able to release to the world, both a ‘Unknown Mother Goose’ as Hitorie, and a ‘Unknown Mother Goose’ as wowaka, is extraordinarily big to me. Next year, we have to figure out how to perform the six songs of ‘ai/SOlate’ in front of people. I want to make the belief in Hitorie and the belief in wowaka, something stronger. (wowaka).”

— When we chatted after the interview, wowaka murmured “I want to do a concert already”. And in that second, everyone’s face lit up. Hitorie are surely going to be running at full speed in 2018 too.

#wowaka #interview #ヒトリエ #I probably made so many english misspells and oopsies in this #but I can't even see straight anymore #i love you rie

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phoenixryzing · 7 years

Text

Twilight Family: School Start (Part Two, Chapter Three)

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Aster, Raven, and Amaya climbed out of the car and stood staring up at their new school. It was an old brick building,with a clocktower in the very center and old trees in front of it. The place looked a little run-down, vines growing up the walls and trees, cracks in the brick path leading to the door, an old flagpole that’d seen better days. But it had a quaint kind of charm all the same, like a place out of a storybook.

Twilight got out and went over to hug Amaya and raven. “Now, remember to be good, listen to your teachers... and if you need anything, just ask them to call me. I’ll come getcha if you need it, okay?” The girls nodded, nervous. Twilight gave them one last quick squeeze and said, “Now run along, go meet your classmates.”

The trio walked over to the playground to the left of the school, where a variety of kids were playing. The children ignored them, except for a few odd looks, so Raven boldly went forward and introduced herself to a knot of them.

“Hi! I’m Raven! What’s your names?”

The kids looked over and introduced themselves as Dan, Robert, Julia, Pizza, and Sandy. Once done, Sandy- a Metazoan with large floppy dog ears- asked Raven, “So you’re new? Where you from?”

“Galvan! We just moved here two days ago! Are you from here?”

“We all are,” Dan said, sneering. “We aren’t backwoods bumpkins like you.”

“Bumpkin? What do you mean?” raven asked, confused.

The boy laughed. “Your clothes! They’re so ragged! What, you poor or something?”

Raven glanced sub-consciously at her clothes. She wore a black shirt and pants as usual, but the shirt was all torn and patched from the many scraps she got in- as well as blood-stained, though fortunately black didn’t show it much.

“I wear this because it’s comfy,” Raven said. “What’s wrong with ragged clothing? I think it looks cool!”

The other children laughed. Raven’s face started to fall, but then lit up as she said, “Hey, quit laughing at me! You’re just a stupid bully!”

The others stopped. Dan said, “Pf, I’m no bully, but you’re dumb. Come on guys, we got better things to do.”

The kids walked off, but one stayed behind- Pizza. The Foodie went up to Raven and said, “Hey, forget those guys. Dan’s just in a bad mood, he’ll warm up to you.”

Raven looked up and smiled. “Thanks, Pizza. That’s an interesting name! You from Fornax?”

Pizza nodded. “Uh huh! My parents moved here when I was a baby! Something about broadening horizons? Whatever that means! But hey, you’re from Galasa-whatever it was?? What was that like? Did you go to school there? Did-”

Raven laughed, and cut her off. “Whoa, whoa, one question at a time! Galvan was pretty cool! I didn’t see a lot of it though, I had to stay home a lot....”

“Why?” Pizza asked, tilting her head to the side.

Raven instantly realized her mistake. This is what Twilight meant about being careful. “Well.... I get sick pretty easily! So I had to stay home.” Not... too much of a lie, she did get injured easily at least.

“Ohhh, I’m so sorry! What did you get sick with? Is something wrong with you? Not like I mean something seems wrong with you, I mean....” Pizza went on, but Raven’s attention got drawn elsewhere, to a familiar, distressing sound.

“Excuse me,” Raven said, turning and running off. Pizza looked puzzled, but just shrugged and walked off.

In the distance, some younger kids had formed a circle around Amaya and were shoving her and teasing her. Amaya was crying, a high-pitched wail Raven would recognize anywhere. But she was afraid of what that meant... the kids had no clue what they were dealing with.

Suddenly, Amaya’s wail turned into an unearthly animal scream, and she suddenly flushed red. She raised both her hands, and suddenly slammed them into the ground, knocking the other kids back.

Raven reached her a second later, running through the circle of dozed children. She went up and bear-hugged her sister, trying to calm her down and keep her from using her magic again.

“Amaya, Amaya! Calm down! You’re gunna hurt someone!” Raven shouted, keeping a firm grip on her struggling sister.

Amaya didn’t respond except to roar, and Raven felt the blood inside of her start to writhe, pulling her away. She gasped though, as the internal pressure started to break open her skin, scattering her blood in a line behind her. She hurriedly back away, out of Amaya’s range, all the while crying from the pain.

Aster ran up, and found Raven bleeding from the cuts in her back and new ones along her body, and said, “Lie down, quickly! I’ll heal you.” Raven did so, and Aster started to restore her, when she was distracted by a scream.

Amaya had made one of the kids stand up, and was raising him slowly up. The boy screamed, as the blood in his body rushed up and tried to rise, putting pressure on veins that threatened to burst.

Aster left Raven, and ran and tackled her little sister. The impact knocked Amaya to the ground, dropping the boy, who started coughing up blood.

“What are you doing?!” Aster shouted. “Were you trying to kill him?!”

Amaya didn’t answer, just lunched forward at her sister, and the two girls rolled on the ground, fighting.

Then suddenly, two strong pairs of hands lifted them apart. “What is the meaning of this?” a woman said. “Stop this instant!”

Aster stopped struggling and looked up- a large woman with a nametag that read Mrs. Peters was holding her, while a large male was struggling to hold onto Amaya.

“Stop struggling you!” the man said, tightening his grip on Amaya. From the look of it, he was a security guard, but even still he had trouble holding onto the little girl.

Amaya flushing had faded, though her eyes were still red. She made hand motions like she was trying to use her magic, but it did nothing. She had used too much.

“My sister gets fits,” Aster explained, “and she can’t control herself. She becomes like a wild beast. Please, try to understand. I only was attempting to inhibit her.”

“This is your sister?” the guard said, looking between the two girls. “And just who are you? I haven’t seen you before.”

“I’m Aster Stein, and that is Amaya Stein,” Aster explained. “We just started today.”

“You haven’t even started class and you’re already fighting. Despicable!” Mrs. Peters declared. “Well, we’ll whip you into shape I’m sure! Glad I don’t have you ruffians in my class though. I do have Raven Stein, where is she?”

“Raven!” Aster said, struggling out of Mrs. Peters grip. Before the teacher could grab her, Aster raced over to where Raven lay, breathing shallowly. She quickly went back to healing her while the teachers and guard walked closer, and soon Raven opened her eyes and sat up.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. “Thank you Aster.”

“You can thank me by being more careful,” Aster snapped. “You trying to get killed?”

“Killed?” the teacher asked, horrified. “Is the child as dangerous as all that?”

Raven laughed. “No, I am weak as all that. But that boy....”

They looked over, but the coughing kid was nowhere to be seen. “Huh. Must be alright,” Raven said. Aster shrugged.

“Oh, John? He went to the nurse,” Mrs. Peters said. “Coughing something bad. Your sister do that?” she said, motioning to the still-struggling Amaya.

Aster sighed. “I’m afraid so. Her magic is blood manipulation, and she uses it when threatened.”

“The kids were bullying her,” Raven said. “I saw them. They were teasing her and pushing her around.”

“Make no excuses and tell no falsehoods. Her behavior wouldn’t be warranted in any case. I will have to send her to the principle’s office.”

“Oh please don’t!” Raven said. “She just started, it’s only her first day of school. And I’m sure she won’t do it again! Please don’t get her in trouble so soon.”

Mrs. Peters pursed her lips, and said, “I’m afraid I must. It is my duty as a teacher. If I let this fly, what kind of chaos would reign here! Come- oh, she’s still having a fit. Alright George, carry her to the office. Let’s go.” And the two adults walked off, George still carrying Amaya.

Aster looked at Raven. “Are you really okay?”

Raven nodded. “A little dizzy, but nothing I’m not used to. You know I was made tough.”

“Too bad that toughness doesn’t go to your skin,” Aster snarked. Then she sighed. “Any luck with the kids?”

Raven shook her head. “No. They called me a bumpkin. You?”

Aster shook her head. “They said I was a know-it-all.”

Raven cracked a smile. “What a way to start school, huh?”

#worldview #Twilight Family #twilight #aster #amaya #raven #school #part two #original character #my work #Story Post

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nightsonloop · 5 years

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Grief

It’s late again but I would like to keep this up - even if it’s a short piece. I slept better last night, so putting the formless and uncertain here in words does seem to give it/them structure and form. Helps me to recognise them and I guess that in itself reduces the sense of not knowing.

I don’t think I’ll last long enough today to fully talk about grief, but I guess I can start. Many have written about loss and there are general patterns to such experiences. But as experiences are, they only possess meaning in their full, messy and multi-faceted form - ties to every other experience past and future, within and in connection with others, in some way.

My experience with loss happened more than 3 years ago in mid-2015. It is really interesting how all my experiences before that point in time were ordered on a spectrum with a lower upper threshold and how loss shifted my whole baseline upwards. 2 years before 2015 my upper limit was ending a relationship with the guy I loved so very deeply then (or more so finding out that I was deceived by him). And the sadness and struggles then were so prolonged and so real to me. The day that I found out that my first love cheated on me just for his own pleasure and that I spent the same amount of time grieving over our lost relationship as was the actual duration of our relationship, I was absolutely devastated.

The only person who knows the truth is my brother in law, who was the first person to return home that day. After confiding in him and expressing some raw sadness, I recall that he told me at some point ‘you know, you will grow stronger from this. And you will go through far deeper pains in future, but you will be okay’

That threw me a little off guard. I was a little offended in fact. Is this pain not enough? Are you minimising my hurt now? What deeper pains could I possible experience? This year long endeavour to distract myself from him with whatever means possible, to cope with the sense of emptiness and now the fact that he chose to be dishonest with me to my pain and his pleasure - what could possibly be worse?

Of course, naive, you would say. I would scream that now too but the nature of naïveté is precisely that one’s ability to perceive or comprehend is insufficient. And there is nothing like actual experiences to broaden my understandings.

Come 2015, my whole world changed. So distinctly that I can clearly set apart the self before my loss and the self after. I discovered a whole range of experiences that was completely unknown to me prior. So qualitatively different. It was not the sadness that caused the tears to run every now and then, to cause my mind to constantly gravitate towards that something or someone, to cause a feeling of being incomplete. Well actually it was, yet it was not because it was so much more and the far greater depth made it feel completely foreign. It is difficult to describe. It was a sadness so deep seated and so diffused across my whole being - it felt so woven into my every cell and spark of consciousness. It was not self-focused. And it was an utter lack of control. What is more irreversible than death, where all possibilities are definitively extinguished? The confusion that mingled with the sadness was also absolute too, since the answers perished together with that life. In a way, the absolute nature of death may have helped. There was nothing to hold onto, so I could not hang onto the little what-ifs. But there was nothing to hang onto. It was just free falling, with no end. Very gradually it slows and you begin to inch towards what is familiar. But the initial shock was so acute, so overwhelming.

Who was he? That is for another day. But he was a very pure soul, and someone very close to my heart.

And when I found out about his death, I could not sleep. For 3 days, I was constantly taking steps back, one at a time, and reperceiving. Frantically I did, so that I could try to understand what happened, why it happened, what it meant. But it would take me many months and years to put the pieces together. And for a long while i did not even know what I was piecing together. Now I know it was not the pieces of what actually happened but the pieces of my own narrative.

Back then, my mind went on overdrive but yet it was frozen. At night when I lay in bed, I felt this raw sense of horror that kept me up despite my fatigue. It was the only time in my life I experienced true horror. Every time my eyelids closed, the eyes of my mind remained open - they did not even blink. I saw him, sitting on the ledge. I imagined the extent of his suffering and pain that led him to the ledge, imagined the fear when looking down, and the horror after leaping off. Don’t think of the white bear you know? Have you heard of that theory? The more you tell yourself that, the more you think about the white bear. I spent the whole night with my eyes closed but watching his suicide (as I imagined it to be) on loop. The imagined feelings of pain and horror were on loop too. I was breaking out in cold sweat at night while watching this imagined scene on loop. Through the night, I experienced this deep sense of panic, loss, helplessness, regret and grief.

It was a haze, the entire wake. After the third day, the final day of the wake, I recall returning to an empty home and crying out loud. I had always been a silent crier. But not that day. It was the only time I cried out loud. I thought the sound of my own cries was comforting - at least it was something external and actual that I could perceive objectively, that I could know. I said goodbye to a dear friend who was no longer around and fell asleep.

When I woke up for the first time after three days, I was most definitely quite a different person. Of course, we are changing all the time. But then there are those times that just give you a hard knock - change you almost overnight and perhaps for the remainder of your time. And grief, 2015 did that for me.

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cryofthefishmongers-blog · 7 years

Text

Ultra: Part One.

I knew that the wind was shaking the windows. From the low light seeping in from behind the curtains, I knew that it was either early morning, or dusk. I knew that I was lying in a bed, not necessarily mine.

This was all that I knew.

To my senses, I was called into existence at this very moment, a doll, fresh of fingerprints. Unmarked, at least in the mind. I tried to remember where I was, who I was, how I got to be where I was. In the dimness of the bedroom, everything beyond the sheets at my fingertips was empty. The bed beneath me, and the sunlight cascading upon it, was the only thing in my life that existed, for it was the only thing I had ever known.

I stood up, and felt my way around the room. Locating a switch on the far wall, I called the rest of the bedroom into being, flooding it with buzzing light. Magazines lay strewn about the floor, piles of clothes forming heaps that lined the walls. Besides chaos, the room was largely empty. The walls were a blank slate, and the bed was the only piece of furniture. Perhaps this was my room. Perhaps that is why I am here. Who I am, of course, was still a matter under questioning.

The thought of leaving the room frightened me. I did not know what sat outside of the door. However, in life, I had always been one to strive to broaden my horizons, and I knew that I could not stay inside of this room forever. I was unsure of how long I had even been in this room in the first place. I didn’t think that I was born there. I had little evidence to suggest otherwise, but a lifetime in a single room seemed like a very long time. I could tell by my hands that I was not particularly young. They were not wrinkled, nor aged in any way, but they were adult hands. Somehow I had become an adult without knowing or remembering it.

I opened the door to realize that I was not in a house; I was in an apartment complex. Doors lined hallways, each one identical. I must live here. I closed the door, sealing myself back inside my small pod.

I sat down on the bed. I tried to think. Of what, I was not sure. I tried to remember, but I did not know what I did not remember.

A dizziness overcame me. The world seemed to lilt to one side and the other, like a boat upon a feverish sea. I lay down, and succumbed to a darkness that lay upon my eyes, making my limbs numb, my body still.

One three five eight seven three five eight nine two one eight five six six two eight seven two seven two three one nine eight six five two five three eight six five nine nine eight three four eight seven eight four six five two three five eight nine three seven one six one three nine five eight one three five eight seven three five eight nine two one eight five six six two eight seven two seven two three one nine eight six five two five three eight six five nine nine eight three four eight seven eight four six five two three five eight nine three seven one six one three nine five eight one three five eight seven three five eight nine two one eight five six six two eight seven two seven two three one nine eight six five two five three eight six five nine nine eight three four eight seven eight four six five two three five eight nine three seven one six one three nine five eight one...

When consciousness reentered me, the sunlight had faded into night. Disoriented, I tried to remember where I was. I was in the room. The room with the magazines on the floor. In the apartment complex. The one that is probably mine.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a flashing red light, dully pulsing upon the walls like a strange heartbeat. Dragging myself from the bed, I realized that it came from a phone that I had not noticed before. Sitting on the floor was a receiver resting on a small grey box with a red light blinking. I pressed the button that said “voicemail,” wondering who on Earth would be calling me, and if they perhaps know more about myself that I did.

Beep. Hello there, Jenna. This is Dr. Cameron’s office. It’s currently Wednesday, at 5:46 p.m. We’re calling to check in on you and see how you’re adjusting following your treatment. If at any time, you would like to make a follow-up appointment with Dr. Cameron, you may call (555) 456 - 3459, extension 3028. For any general questions, you may call our main line. Our offices are open weekdays from 8:00am until 8:00pm. Please schedule an appointment if you would like to come in to one of our offices, as we do not accept walk-ins. Thank you. Beep.

My name is Jenna. My name is Jenna. My name is Jenna. This did not ring any bells. However, it seemed fitting. I repeated it to myself, hoping to recall some memory of an introduction from long ago. Hello, my name is Jenna. Nice to meet you, my name is Jenna. I’m Jenna. What’s your name?

Suddenly, a surge of adrenaline shot through me. I needed to know what time it was. Perhaps I could call the office. Perhaps I could figure out what was going on. I needed answers. I needed them immediately.

I replayed the voicemail, and dialed the number, my heart racing. It rang four times, and the same voice I had just heard seeped through the receiver.

Hello, this is Dr. Cameron’s office. Our line is currently busy. You may remain on hold until a representative is available to speak with you, or you may hang up and try again later. Thank you.

I stayed on the line for two rotations of indistinct elevator music, and then slammed down the phone. This was a waste of time. I needed to talk to someone. I couldn’t stay in this room for another minute.

I sprang from the floor and charged out of the door, finding myself once again in the hallway, with rows and rows of doors stretching out from me, seemingly endless in either direction. I took a chance, and began running left.

As I made my way down the hallway, a door opened, and a men stepped out, holding a set of keys and a bag. I stopped.

“Hello,” I choked out. He looked at me and jumped.

“Hi there,” he said. “Are you alright?”

“What time is it?”

He looked at his watch. “About ten after seven.”

“Thank you.”

He stared at me, puzzled. I realized that I did not know what I looked like. I wondered if I looked strange. “How do I get out of here?” I asked, after a pause.

He pointed down the hallway. “Well, the closest exit is the fire escape down at the end of the hall. The main entrance is back the other way, down the stairs. That’ll take you to the lobby.”

I began sprinting towards the fire escape, forgetting to thank him.

The door at the end of the hallway took me down a rickety flight of stairs, and onto the street. I did not know where I was going. I didn’t think ahead this far. Standing near the curb, I hailed a cab, without a moment to take in my surroundings. I jumped in the backseat.

A gruff, disembodied voice came from the darkness of the front seat. “Where to?”

“I… I need to get to… to Dr. Cameron’s office.”

“Dr. Cameron’s office? That’s an awful funny name for a bar.”

“No… no… I need to get to… to a hospital. I need to get to a doctor’s office. Fast.”

“I can get you to a hospital, but I can’t run no red lights or nothin’. Wouldn’t you rather call an ambulance, if you’re in such a hurry?”

“No, no… I need to get to a doctor’s office.”

“Alright, toots. Hang on.”

He stepped on the gas, and we were off. Buildings passed by the window, one after another, all the same, all still. I felt like a traveler in a strange town, barely able to speak the language of the locals. Suddenly, an image popped into my head. I was standing behind two figures, much taller than myself. One of them, a female, took my hand, and led me across a street. We walked into a hotel. The concierge behind the desk uttered something in a language I did not recognize. The man to my left asked him if he spoke English. The concierge nodded, and muttered, “Do you have a room?” The woman let go of my hand, responding that we would like one. He asked for our names. The memory ended there, and I was back in the taxi cab, watching the streets pass by. The cab came to a stop.

“Here’s your hospital, miss. That’ll be three bucks.”

I did not have any money. Fumbling through my pockets, I found nothing.

“I… I…”

“Oh, good,” the voice in the driver seat mumbled. “I know what this is. ‘Frantic woman doesn’t have any money to pay for a cab, and hopes that her apparent distress will get her a free ride.’”

“No… No… I swear… I…” Adrenaline. Hands fumbling for a handle. The noise of the street. The sound of yelling, growing faint, as the sound of running footsteps grew louder.

I pushed open glass doors into a clean lobby, practically heaving. A woman behind the front desk looked at me.

“Ma’am… Are you alright?” She touched a pen to her lips.

“I… I need Doctor Cameron. I… I…”

“There’s no Doctor Cameron who works here, Miss.”

My head began swirling. “I… I need help. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what’s going on. I need help.”

She stood up at her desk, at a 45 degree angle. The room was moving, circling around me. I fell to the floor, grabbing it with my hands, hanging on for dear life. I was going to fall to the ceiling.

She came out from behind the desk, and grew larger and larger and larger. “Stay calm, Miss. We’re going to get you help.”

I think I began to cry. I couldn’t tell. My entire body felt wet.

The door burst open behind me, and an army of two sets of footsteps came for me. Hands grabbed me. I tried to shake them off, but I was weak. I let myself become limp as they picked me up from the ground, a string of saliva the only thing connecting me to the ground. The woman behind the desk yelled at the men in a muffled whisper.

“I think she’s hurt. I think there’s something wrong with her.”

“She’s probably a homeless degenerate. Happens all the time on this side of town.”

What town, I thought. What town, what town, what town. These were the last words I remember thinking before the darkness overtook me once again.

I opened my eyes, and a man in a mask was hovering over me.

“Don’t worry, Miss.” He held a syringe in his left hand.

“What is that?” I couldn’t feel my lips move.

“Don’t worry, Miss,” he repeated.

The needle went into my arm. I tried to move away, but I was strapped down onto a table, at the chest and at the legs. His thumb pressed a clear liquid into my vein. I whimpered.

“I want to go home.”

“Don’t worry, Miss. It will be over soon. Once we know what we need to know, you will be able to go home.”

He left the room, and I was alone for a while. I don’t know how long. But after what felt like hours passed, I was not alone anymore. The colors began to change. Creatures crept up from the floors. The walls around me began to melt, and I was afraid. My heart was pounding out of my chest, and the creatures grew nearer. They looked like humans, but there was something wrong with them. They were looking at me. I shut my eyes, but they were still there. They were murmuring, saying my name. Jenna. Jenna? Jenna. Everything was melting. I was melting. The walls were melting. My fingers are melting. I need my fingers. Don’t melt. Don’t melt. Everything is melting. Everything is melting. Everything is melting. Everything is melting.

#short fiction #short story #writers on tumblr #fiction

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