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noxtms · 2 months

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THE FULL MOON HANGS HIGH OVER THE CAMPGROUNDS, silvery light cast over the neverending festivities down below. anyone under the illusion that the hogsmeade hippogriffs vs diagon dragons charity quidditch game would wrap up in good time and lead to a relaxing night away was sorely mistaken. in spite of the late hour, the celebrations - and for some, the drowning of sorrows - show no sign of stopping anytime soon. the burren is an isolated spot, even without factoring in the huge number of muggle deterrent charms and protective incantations cast over the area for one night only. wix who traveled from overseas or across the country have a rare freedom and are taking full advantage - it's equal parts loud and unruly, and the best fun that many have had since winter came. put enough people in a place and throw in copious amounts of alcohol ( and in a number of cases, something much stronger ) and you'll have trouble, but robed aurors that wander the crowds are quick to combat drunken disputes they happen across which in turn is allowing the more easygoing of partygoers to enjoy their night all the more. expectations were rather low, but the event is running better than anyone could have expected. MURPHY MCNULLY of the wizarding wireless network is one of the unlucky number to have thrown in his lot with the hippogriffs. a schoolyard crush on rolanda hooch blinded him when it came to the bettering slips, and the modest fortune that he lost had been enough to make this grown man cry - quite a bit, actually, until a kind soul pressed a half empty bottle of firewhiskey into his hands and he started the process of acceptance. he's been making his way from tent to tent ( which is, in turn, like moving from party to party ) all night, accepting the kindness of strangers and moving on when their generosity runs dry. it's no wonder the poor guy needs the bathroom, but when the closest porta potty queue looks much too daunting for him and a quick glance around tells him that no one is paying that much mind to him, murphy darts between tents and heads for the edge of the campgrounds. he stumbles over the uneven terrain of the burren, picking his way to a suitable distance and coming to a stop at an ancient, waist high stone wall. the cacophony of music and laughter and all round good cheer hides the sound of a zipper, and murphy tries to sing along to one of the songs he recognises in the din, as he goes - he's so drunk the words run together, but he's having a mighty good time. bladder emptied, he zips himself back up, now humming, and hears a low grumble. his stomach, he thinks. "too full of firewhiskey," he laughs to himself, too drunk to take much notice of the hairs stood up at the back of his neck, "not enough soakage." he turns to go, and there it is again. the telltale grumble. or… he frowns. a growl? he twists back around, and the last thing that murphy mcnully sees before the world turns wet and red is two yellow eyes glinting in the moonlight and the flash of jaws full of huge, pointy teeth. it lunges, and on a nearby hill another wolf lifts their head to the sky to let out a mournful howl, and the pack descends.

TRIGGER WARNINGS for death, injury, animal death, anxiety, assault, blood, body imagery, fire imagery, gore.

the gathered crowds confuse the first screams of abject terror for more joyful rowdiness, only realising the nightmare they have stumbled into when they catch their first glimpse of the wolves that move with inhuman speed - the teeth, the eyes, the stinking, matted fur. worse, still ( if only because the horror of them is so much easier to digest in the moment ) are the hooded figures that begin to pop up from place to place. as if things weren't already bad, the death eaters have arrived. the smart ones apparate without a second thought. MARCUS, at one end of the campground, is gone with a pop before the situation has fully sunken into their alcohol adled mind. others, like the MALFOY'S, rush out of their tents in their nightclothes, disoriented, and take a second to let it all wash over them. they disappear, too, but only after they've grabbed their peacocks.

it really is just VIKTOR'S luck that he would put himself out there and run into one of the more unfortunate cases of deja vu. bleary eyed when he emerges from his tent, he only narrowly avoids the vivid purple spell that sails over his head and collides with a cabinet inside, sending wood splinters and glass scattering and waking DAMARIS from where they dozed. the next curse draws blood when it grazes his arm and he drops to the ground, the same as his unlikely companion who has slid all the way off his couch and thrown their hands protectively over their head, kneeling in the shattered glass. "what the fuck is happening?" they shout, but viktor doesn't know.

ANDIE, holding her crying son in her arms, abandons the fire pit when a misjudged protective spell explodes into the middle of it, sending sparks flying over all that had gathered around. she gets caught up in the sea of wix stampeding in one direction and can't immediately find an opening to get out or a safe space to apparate.

following their immediate instinct to just duck and take cover beneath a closed up, wooden stall ultimately does TEMPEST no good ; they're smart, but the penchant for utter, mindless destruction that the death eaters have trumps that every time. one of the hooded figures hits the wooden structure with expulso, not even to target them but just because it adds to the growing chaos. they only realise someone is cowering underneath it when the now brightly burning, collapsing structure draws a shrill scream from the wix caught below.

throwing up an invisible block in the doorway of their tent the minute that chaos unfolded was definitely a good idea and saves them some initial trouble, but DUDLEY is the first to realise the other sort of danger that they have landed themselves into when smoke starts billowing out from the rooms at the back of the tent. "GINNY-" he starts, wide eyed and taking several steps back, whatever warning he was going to give interrupted by her shout of "fuck!" as she rushes past him, leaving DRACO alone to hold the barrier in place. her cry of aguamenti does little to douse the flames she can only barely see through thick, black smoke. she tries to put them out in vain while it continues to funnel into the tent, stinging their eyes and coating their lungs with every breath, until dudley grabs her upper arm and tugs her away. "it's no use," he tells her, through a cough, "we have to leave." he's right, of course. arms held over their mouths as they return to the front of the tent, a bead of sweat runs down draco's forehead from both rising heat and the pressure of holding the barrier, alone. "ready to go?" he asks them, to no reply ; ginny grabs a hand each, and they disappear with a pop.

assuming that JUSTIN is close at their heels and with ISMENE holding tightly to her hand, ANTIGONE'S only thought is to get back to her van and get her dog. they were among the lucky ones - they hadn't been caught up at the heart of the campgrounds when everything went to hell, and has instead been hanging around the edges of the parties. they were ready to head back and get some sleep, but unwilling to be the first to leave. they are both so full of hope, so close to where they parked in the carpark when antigone turns to glance over her shoulder that it feels so stupid to stop at all, though of course they were always going to when she realises, with a jolt, that justin isn't behind them after all. ismene tries to tug her on as she opens her mouth to shout for him, but everything moves so fast - a furred body launches itself over a ford fiesta and lands heavy on top of them both, jaws snapping, and what comes out of her next is nothing but a wordless scream.

limping from an ankle that he twisted in his haste to get through the panicked crowd, OSKAR meets ELIZA at the flap of her tent and shoves her all the way back in again. "is elena-" with her fingers now knotted up in the sleeve of his shirt, she shakes her head. it's a relief. her husband appears in a doorway with a barely awake ezra holding on tight around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. "is it-" he begins to ask, but oskar interrupts, "it's bad. we have to go." a ground shaking explosion at that exact moment forces them to quicker action, and eliza pulls oskar towards the rest of her family so that when they apparate, they do it together.

( the explosion itself is one of the stronger cases for a person having 'just downright rotten luck' documented, in recent years. GRACE, dragging ASTORIA by her jacket towards the auror detainment tent with the promise that safety awaits, has no way of predicting the freak accident she ultimately involves them both in - she counters spells she sees zipping past with a quick protego, has barely caught a glimpse of a wolf since it all kicked off, is managing, just barely, to keep her cool… but when a powerful reducto from a stranger in the crowd collides with the gas tanks behind an abandoned food truck, the resulting explosion throws EVERYONE in the immediate vicinity backwards with painful force, searing their eyebrows and knocking them out without them ever really understanding what happened, in the first place )

on the other side of the campgrounds, a stupefy collides with the ground at MINETTE'S feet, only narrowly missing her. she lets out a terrified squeak and twists to face the hooded figure that targeted her, throwing a leg lock curse at them without taking the time to properly aim and parrying the spell they throw back at her with a protego. her shield sends it flying into a nearby tent - not the first casualty, not the last - and though it's luckily empty, her distraction in that moment after it hits is all it takes for them to hit her with a body bind. she falls with a strangled sort of yell, and the next sensation her body feels is blistering pain beneath a vengeful crucio.

finally managing to break away from the crowd, ANDIE darts between two tents and turns left, weaving her way through temporary homes. her mind is blank with panic - she knows she should be apparating, but marco's cries in her ear tell her that it's a danger to do so with him so upset and all she's really trying to do, in this moment, is put as much distance between them and the wolves and the wayward spells as possible. of course, she realises she should've just risked it when the wolf jumps into her path, hackles raised, teeth stripped. she jumps so violently that marco lets out another loud cry, and as she starts to back up, the wolf follows. "please…" she sobs, "please don't hurt us…" the wolf, showing understanding, continues forward. "please-" an explosion of blue sparks from an off course spell cascades over them from where it collides with the outside of a tent, and she seizes the momentary distraction to turn on her heel and run.

"oh, merlin-" seeing TEMPEST struggle beneath the weight of the burning, wooden debris of what was once a stall, MARIETTA rushes into action. her aguamenti does little to douse the roaring, magical flames, so she gives up before she wastes too much precious time and just grabs their hands and starts to pull while they use whatever purchase they can find in the ground beneath them to try and help. the debris doesn't want to let go of them, but after a few long moments of desperate pulling, an almighty tug gets them free - their clothes singed, smoking, actually smoldering from the fire that had been licking so dangerously close to them. marietta, for what it's worth, does more than just force them to roll around. she also violently smacks at where the smoke seems most likely to burst into flame with her bare hands, only stopping when she's absolutely sure the danger has passed.

JUSTIN had gotten caught by the crowd. that was all. he had started hot on the heels of the xu's, but the rushing wix had cut him off halfway along the journey. when he tripped, he was forced to his knees. when he got stuck close at the ground, he was stuck there, unable to push himself back to standing or press ahead, forcefully frozen in place by the sea of wix that were so desperate to get away that they don't realise he's even there. he tries, he tries so hard, but when a knee collides with his forehead, his body folds in on itself - leaving him vulnerable to the heavy footfall of a panicked crowd.

she was lucky enough not to experience the last time a quidditch celebration turned deadly, but she's probably heard all about it, by now. CARA is at a distinct disadvantage to everyone else, lost in the crowd and being unable to apparate out - she's heard stories of werewolves, heard the truth about death eaters, but she's not interested in combating either. she just wants to get safe, and when the going gets especially rough… "mum!" she weaves her way through the crowd of wix, screaming so loudly her voice is sure to go hoarse, "mum!"

"PANSY-" is the last word that she hears before the werewolf that suddenly appears in their path leaps and THEO shoves her out of the way with all of his strength. he makes himself the target, though the wolf doesn't care which one of them it crashes into with enough force to send them both flying backwards into the nearest, wooden stall, a mess of both their limbs. pansy's scream of terror catches in her throat as she hits the ground hard enough to see stars, and she fights against every instinct that she has to just lay there and catch her breath to instead scramble for her wand and force herself back up again, blood running cold at the thought that she can only ever be too late. "theo!" she shrieks, rushing to where they have fallen and taking careless aim - it's a gamble of the worst kind, but somehow, her depulso lands true. the werewolf atop him gets thrown away into another stall as pansy throws herself over him in its place, apparating them away before it can get its bearings and come back for them, again.

another spell that seems to have been fired directly at theme explodes in the fireplace that he had been allowing die, and with a loud "fuck this!" DAMARIS is gone. he can't say he doesn't understand, but with a little bit more of an emotional investment in his tent - and temporary home - VIKTOR doesn't immediately follow suit. still crouched low, a hand held over the gushing wound on his arm, he rushes over to douse the fire. glass cracks underfoot. he succeeds, but his relief is short lived, quickly replaced by the cold rushing of blood in his veins when he hears a snapping of jaws from behind him. to his credit, he doesn't take the time to look it in the eye. turning on the spot, viktor disappears the instant before the wolf's body collided with his own - he can still smell their rotting breath when he lands a few miles away, in safety.

"get OFF-" SEAMUS, an arm broken by a stray curse hanging awkwardly at his side, roars. he was almost free of it all. almost out of the danger zone entirely when he stumbles on the most horrifying of scenes - two bloodied figures, strangers to him in the moment, a lone werewolf stood tall and tearing into them. he rushes toward the danger without pausing to think about whether he even should, if they're even still alive, drawing the attention of the wolf. it turns quicker than he thinks possible, but seamus is quick, too - his powerful expulso fueled by pain and fear sends the wolf flying into the night, crashing over the roof of a car, and though he gives it half a breath before he runs towards the XU'S, it doesn't come back again.

CHO, who had already lost sight of her friends before the campgrounds went full chaos, isn't exactly looking for them - she's just trying to get away, same as everyone else. when a wolf lunges from the darkness and sinks their teeth into a strangers leg, she screams as loudly as they do and turns all the way around, running full pelt in the opposite direction. it is sheer chance that she happens on the same path as MINETTE, more of the same that a glance over her shoulder to make sure she isn't being followed results in her running full force into the death eater holding the other under crucio. their concentration is broken when they fall with cho in a tangle of limbs, but in the scrambling that they both do away from one another, the masked figure is quicker. they slash downwards with their wand and pain erupts, stemming from a large wound opened in cho's chest. she falls to her knees and, realising how exposed they now are, the death eater turns heel and runs.

ANDIE trips over a tent peg. it's as simple and as utterly damning as that. she trips and falls with a cry, her ankle throbbing, and marco goes down with her. she doesn't know how long she has, and she still isn't thinking straight. her mind is clouded by terror, ten times worse for the fact that when she tries to get back to her feet, her ankle protests so badly she knows there's no point. "marco, baby, you have to run," she sobs, tears streaming down both their cheeks, "go. please, marco, go-" unfortunately, it isn't her pleading that he listens to. the deep growl of the wolf still in pursuit sends him running, and despite her terror - and the white hot pain that blossoms suddenly from her leg - andie is relieved.

"ginny?!" ARTHUR shouts as loud as he can, pushing his way in the opposite direction of the moving crowd, making his way slowly - but absolutely surely - towards where he knows she pitched her tent. his robes ripped at the knee and sporting a nasty cut over one eye, he's already seen some of the worst of what's happening here but his main priority, as always, is his daughter. he's close enough, now, to spot a flash of red through the crowd. flames, he realises. flames, licking the sky. his heart feels like its going to burst out of his chest as he pushes through the final wall of people between him and his destination and he comes face to face with the stuff of nightmares. "ginny!" his voice cracks with the force of her name, and arthur doesn't hesitate - he charges forward through the opening at the front of the tent, headfirst into the smoke and fire.

meanwhile, on the opposite side of the campgrounds, MARY collides with her daughter. she wraps her arms around her, protectively, and tugs her out of the still rushing crowd into a relatively safe pocket of calm at the edge of the beaten track, between two different stalls. CARA gives a terrified squeak and then relaxes - total trust in total chaos. "mum-" she cries, but mary knows better than most how little time they have in a situation as dire as this and has already ripped her wand from her shaking hand. "mum?" she asks, and mary holds her closer still with one arm, getting a feel for her wand with her other hand. "this is going to hurt," she tells her, solemnly, and then for the first time in twenty five years, mary apparates. for what it's worth, she's right.

since the events of the derby, MARCO'S mother had tried to instill in him the idea that if he ever got lost like that again, he was to look for the nearest auror and stay with them until she came for him. terrified by what he's seen, tonight, he doesn't do it - but in a manner of speaking, he manages it all the same. it isn't an auror that finds him hunched down beneath the wooden counter of an abandoned food stall, but when MIKAELA finally inches her way into a clearing where once stood a now smoldering tent and comes face to face with ARTURO, she does so with the little boy held tightly in her arms.

"thank merlin-" she gasps, breaking into a short run to get to him faster without a single or second thought. he grabs onto them both, a desperate hug that lasts a few moments longer than is wise, in their current situation.

"are you okay?" he asks, and though she gives a nod, he pulls her back and holds her at arms length anyways to check her and marco over, rambling all the while, "you haven't been hurt? where did you find him? you weren't bitten? the death eaters-"

"we have to get out of here, right now-"

"i know. you're right. we can apparate a few miles out, see if anyone's seen and-" there is a brief flash of red, bright as a flare, over his shoulder. arturo's eyes go blank and his body goes slack, stupefied from behind. she cries out as he loses balance, trying her hardest to keep him upright but finding herself entirely unable to support his weight with a quietly sobbing marco still held close to her. he falls and she adjusts the little boy, taking hold of him better with one arm so that she can raise her wand and defend herself against the death eater that targeted arturo, though instead-

a grey wolf, larger than any of the others that she caught a glimpse of in all of this chaos, stalks out of the shadows, one large paw after the other. intelligent, yellow eyes size her up. its lips peel back from its teeth in a vicious, warning growl, and mikaela is glad for the poor lighting - something viscous hangs from its canines, but if it's all over quick enough she'll never have to know exactly what.

"stay back," she tells it, aiming for bossy even as her palms sweat. she could run. she could apparate, even, risk the splinching just to get away - she'd probably make it, and better they're alive sans a finger or two than hold onto them all and be dead, but arturo… he decides everything for her. she holds her wand higher. "i don't want to hurt you," she says, trying to sound every bit as confident and as frightening as niko does when he puts voice to the horrid thoughts inside his head.

the wolf steps forward again, unconvinced. marco buries his head further into the crook of her shoulder.

"it's your last chance."

it leans in. head low. hackles raised. a low grumble comes from deep within its chest. she's seen dogs like it, before, fighting in the street. she knows it's going to lunge, thinks it'll be faster than i can ever be, and then it DOES, and she shouts "avada-"

she knows it'll be close, too close to call, too close to know until one of them hits the ground-

the sickly green of a killing curse lands true, striking the wolf. it drops like a puppet whose strings have been cut into an unceremonious heap, crumpling to the floor as a man, not a beast. his unkempt silver hair is matted. his shrewd eyes unseeing. it wasn't mikaela's curse.

around her, dozens of figures pop into being. aurors and hit wix, the lot of them, hitting the ground running and rushing towards the chaos of elsewhere, their wands held high and at the ready. some of them slow down as they pass the body of the man, their eyes widening in recognition before they shake themselves from their shock and head off to get a hold of the situation. one girl falls to her knees beside arturo to cast the counterspell ; somehow she is able to manage relief when she sees his eyes, fluttering.

mikaela wraps her other arm back around marco, protectively, and turns to face her father. he keeps his wand held in his first when he closes the distance and performs an almost step by step imitation of her reunion from moments before - pulls her close, pushes her back, takes a good, long look at her, over her.

she opens her mouth.

he cuts her off. "i told you."

ROUNDUP OF DAMAGES, INJURIES & FATALITIES :

by the time the aurors and general do gooders have everything under control, again, and the werewolves and death eaters have disappeared into the night, the campground is almost entirely levelled. anyone who didn't grab their belongings before they got out will likely not be able to find them, come morning, be it because their tent was burned to the ground or because the crowd stampeded over them. the death toll starts at ten, but climbs to thirty one as bodies are found and victims succumb to their injuries over the days that immediately follow. curiously, there are no deaths that can be attributed to the killing curse aside from that of FENRIR GREYBACK, who was killed by the minister of magic himself in defense of his daughter.

andie macnair is found by aurors and taken to st mungo's, quickly ; she was seriously injured and will need to spend a few days on a ward to fully recover. the bite to her leg was treated with dittany mixed with silver which has closed it, but she will be cursed with lycanthropy from this point onward.

antigone & ismene xu are in critical condition at st mungo's. if either survive, they will be cursed with lycanthropy.

arthur weasley had already suffered quite serious burns and smoke inhalation by the time he realised the tent was empty and passed out before he could get out - he would've burned to death had he not sent his patronus out and had it spotted by an auror, who dove in and dragged him out. he was taken from the scene and taken to st mungo's where he will need to spend several days, recovering.

arturo de la rosa suffered some minor injury but is mostly shook by the experience.

astoria greengrass suffered serious injury in the explosion that claimed lives and is lucky to be alive. she is removed from the scene and taken to st mungo's where she will have to spend several days to fully recover.

cara macdonald was badly splinched when she was apparated out and will need to seek treatment in st mungo's, though aside from this, she is mostly just shaken.

cho chang suffered serious injury from an unidentified curse that was thrown at her during the chaos and was taken to st mungo's from the scene, where she will have to spend at least the night having copious amounts of dittany applied to the gaping wound.

damaris vector is more shaken, than anything. they suffered a few minor scapes to their hands and knees, but apparated out before it could get any worse.

dudley dursley suffered minor smoke inhalation but got out quick and is more shaken by the experience than anything else.

eliza fawley ( and her husband and son ) are shaken, but unscathed.

ginny weasley (and draco malfoy ) suffered minor smoke inhalation but got out quick and are more shaken by the experience than anything else.

grace moody suffered serious injury in the explosion that claimed lives and is lucky to be alive. she is removed from the scene and taken to st mungo's where she will have to spend several days to fully recover.

justin finch-fletchley suffered serious injury when he was crushed beneath the crowd and is taken from the scene to st mungo's, where he will have to spend several days to fully recover.

marcus flint apparated out immediately and is unscathed.

marietta edgecombe suffered some minor burns to her hands, but is mostly unscathed.

mary macdonald was badly splinched when she apparated out and will need to seek treatment in st mungo's, though aside from this, she is also mostly just shaken.

mikaela karkaroff ( and marco macnair ) are badly shaken but mostly unscathed.

minette merrythought is badly shaken by her time beneath the cruciatus, but can be treated for shock on the scene. she's advised to have a stiff drink when she gets home, to further calm her nerves.

narcissa malfoy ( and her husband, plus a couple peacocks ) apparated out immediately and are unscathed.

oskar catchlove sprained his ankle in the chaos but can have this seen by an on site healer.

pansy parkinson suffered a minor concussion when she hit the ground, but is relatively unscathed. she's lucky that theo was there.

seamus finnigan broke his arm after he was hit by a stray curse, but has his choice ; he can take a shot of skele-gro on the scene and deal with it himself or seek treatment at st mungo's, where he will be fully observed overnight.

tempest clearwater has sustained minor burns, cuts and bruises from the stall that was collapsed on top of them ; they will need to spend a night in st mungo's to be properly treated.

theodore nott is miraculously unbitten but suffered serious cuts and bruising when he crashed into a wooden stall ; he will have to seek treatment in st mungo's and spend at least one night, for observation.

viktor krum was grazed by a ribboning curse and has suffered quite a serious injury to his upper arm. this can be taken care of with an administration of dittany by healers on scene.

OUT OF CHARACTER :

this marks the end of our charity quidditch game event ! no new event based starters should be posted from here on out, but you can feel free to continue any threads you began over the last few weeks and are welcome to transition to the aftermath.

#nox.plotdrop016 #nox.important #nox.event040 #hp rp #harry potter rp #appless rp #fandom rp #canon rp #oc rp #mumu rp #established rp

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writtenonreceipts · 2 years

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Happy October!! 🎃 Very excited for spooktober, how about some Elorcan sass:

“We only have to make it until sunrise, which is… 7 hours away.”

Happy October nonny! thanks for sending this in!

My sick-adled brain wanted to keep drawing this out into further nonsense but nyquil finally had her say and we're backing away real carefully in the hopes that this is somewhat good...

warnings: none? ~4k words

...

Hauntings and Happenstance

Leaves skittered across the ground as the wind picked its way through the trees. Huge cedar trees towered overhead and blocked out the inky black sky. The past few days of rain and fog dominated the weather patterns, and that night was no different. The clouds barely broke enough to offer a window to the deep crescent of the moon. Pale silver light attempted to illuminate the forest, but the heavy bulk of the clouds ate whatever light they could.

The subtle scrape of the leaves and cool glow of light were soothing to Elide. She’d always loved autumn with its changing colors and weather. Especially when she had an active excuse to continue drinking hot apple cider or hot chocolate all day every day. Now, however, her hands were empty except for her flashlight. The stiff chill dug into her fingers making Elide plow one hand into her pocket and the other gripped the light. It really was a cool night, with the covered sky and promise of more rain.

Elide walked through the old Terrasen cemetery, she had a giant backpack on one shoulder and an even bigger duffel bag on the other. A girl needed her snacks and blankets if she were going to stay in a haunted house this close to Halloween.

She’d long had a fascination with the cemetery and had quite honestly jumped at the opportunity to explore it further. It had been abandoned back in 1856 on account of accidental double burials. Which had then amounted to a resurgence of omen watching for any and every bad deed. It also didn’t help that Terrasen had been known for a serial killer too—who supposedly was the caretaker of the cemetery back in ‘56.

Terrasen had far too many skeletons in its closet.

The flashlight she held did a poor job at lighting the narrow trail that curved along the back of the cemetery. Late autumn fog began to condense before her and shape into the shrubbery that was trying to take over any space it could find. Elide sipped her cider, which was growing cold. Maybe she should have brought another blanket. But her backpack had already been growing full and she thought snacks might be more important than—

The snap of a twig behind her had Elide spinning around. The beam of her flashlight intercepted a hulking shape coming towards her. A shape she instantly recognized.

“You asshat!” Elide yelled. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

In two long strides Lorcan Salvaterre leveled up with her, a smirk dancing on his mouth. He easily took her duffel bag from her despite her glares.

“Isn’t that the idea of this plan?” he asked. “Which by the way has to be the stupidest thing you’ve done.”

She scowled at him and turned around, doing her best to walk quickly. Lorcan of course kept stride.

“If you think it’s so stupid, why are you here?” she retorted. “Doesn’t Maeve have that party tonight?”

“You think I’d let you do this alone?” Lorcan brushed an errant branch out of his face. He was so tall that even the recently beaten back shrubs still got in his way.

She cut him a sharp smile. “Didn’t know you cared so much, Salvaterre.”

The night was quiet around them, save for a few skittering animals in the fallen leaves and other debris on the forest floor. The silence, of course, made it easier for her mind to wander. Because first and foremost, Lorcan was here. She hadn’t even realized he’d known what she was doing tonight.

Her crush was stupid, she knew. Lorcan was older with a brooding sort of attitude. He was the type of guy who didn’t care what others thought of him and made certain they knew it too.

Somehow over the last year and a half, Elide and Lorcan had formed a little friendship separate from everyone else. He’d been held back in high school for skipping so often that Elide had managed to, somehow, get to know him better than anyone else.

“I’m not going to let you get yourself killed, Elide,” Lorcan said.

Another twig snapped beneath their feet. Though, it was nearly drowned out by the low growl of thunder overhead. Hell. Hopefully that was just a little threat and not a promise of something to come.

“You do realize the house isn’t actually haunted, right?” she asked. “I’m just doing this for extra credit in my cultural anthropology course.”

According to local legend, the old caretaker house had fallen to shambles after a series of mysterious murders swept through the down. Murders that had been committed by the caretaker himself. Now, the old house and cemetery were left alone, to disappear into both memory and the once vibrant forest. For her class, Elide was going to write a paper on how the legend had been mixed and convoluted through the years.

“I know it’s not haunted,” Lorcan scoffed, “but there’s probably some dumbass who thinks it’s funny to play pranks on people like you—”

“Like me?”

“Who walk into situations they don’t belong in.” Lorcan cast her a dark look at that, only emphasized from the shadows of the night.

Elide let out a laugh and bumped his shoulder. Her heart thumped just a little faster, which she ignored.

“Are you worried about me now?” she teased. “It’s just a haunted house, Lorcan.”

“You’re impossible,” was all Lorcan said.

“I am impossibly delightful,” she corrected, waving her flashlight in his face.

And then to punctuate her words—it started to rain. Big, fat drops fells from the sky and startled her out of whatever bit of teasing he’d been about to embark on. Blinking rapidly, Elide looked up to the sky. The canopy of trees blocked most of the heavy onslaught of rain, but it would only be a matter of time before they got soaked.

“Son of a—” Lorcan muttered. He glanced at her, trails of rain already slipping down his face. “Seriously, Lochan?”

Elide grinned. “Scared of a little rain, Salvaterre?”

She adjusted the strap of her backpack and picked up her pace.

In a matter of minutes, they came to a small cobbled path that led through overgrown blackberry bushes and ferns. The house was slumped to one side, the roof curved with some unknown weight. Though, Elide imagined that in the light of day she would see heavy strings of moss hanging from the eaves of the house and the molded cross-beams sagging in age.

The porch, missing several sections of wood, wound around the perimeter of the house. Ivy curled around the railing until it nearly consumed any bit of wood left over. The rain only added to the ambiance of an abandoned home.

Elide picked her way to the front door, careful of any rotted-out pieces in the flooring. The front door had been replaced on more than one occasion, as was evidenced by the shiny new padlock and set of chains strapped to the framework.

Shrugging, Elide held her flashlight out to Lorcan who approached from behind. Despite his large form, he barely disturbed the porch.

“Hold this,” she said.

Lorcan took the light. “You got the key to this place?”

“Uh,” she said, digging around in her backpack. Elide pulled out the lock and pick Manon had given her for her birthday last year. “Not exactly.”

“Dammit, Lochan,” Lorcan said, “did you get permission to come out here?”

“Where would the fun in that be?”

Lorcan continued to mutter oaths under his breath, though he kept the flashlight trained on the padlock. Elide worked in that steady stream of light, sticking the pick and hook in the lock and finding the tumblers. The police department really needed to up their game if they wanted to keep trespassers out of the old home. In a matter of minutes, the lock popped open and the chains fell to the floor.

The door creaked open and a puff of stale air saturated with moss and age greeted them. Elide grinned triumphant. And Aelin had said she wouldn’t even make it in the front door.

Ha!

Elide grabbed the flashlight from Lorcan and stepped into the house. Immediately, the rain ceased and it felt a fraction drier.

Cobwebs draped from the ceiling in thick billows. Dust hung in the light lazily, only disturbed when Elide walked past. She swung the light around to every corner noting everything. The small chandelier overhead hardly seemed like enough to light the house. Sconces were set up along the walls, though they were long empty of any candlewick. One doorway led off into a tiny kitchen that held only a wood stove. The other room was full of old furniture and smelled like mice had taken over.

Elide spun in a slow circle around the living space. Outside there was the subtle thrum of rain pattering on the roof. It wasn’t as big a storm as they usually saw this time of year. As she moved around the cabin, her steps creaked beneath her and an owl gave a hoot from its perch in the trees.

“Is that it?” Lorcan asked. He hovered near the door. “Can we go now?”

“Are you scared?” Elide raised a brow. “The great Lorcan Salvaterre taken down by a haunted house?”

He rolled his eyes at her, unamused.

In the last two years of knowing him—Elide had become very aware of who Lorcan was. She’d gotten to know him in detention, because even if he had been held back to repeat senior year, he still preferred getting into trouble. And then during football games, parties, and random sneak outs—he’d always been there. Somehow, they’d become friends. And somehow, she’d let her little crush take root in her chest.

All of this was very unhelpful, because they were friends. At least, she considered him one. He’d been the only one to express real interest in this plan of hers to explore the old caretaker's house. They were friends and he didn’t see anything beyond that.

Elide cleared her throat and kept talking.

“Legend says, I have to stay the night if I’m going to have any chance of meeting a spirit,” Elide said. She gestured to the duffel bag he’d taken from her. “Hence the blankets and snacks.”

Sighing, Lorcan finally entered the house and wedged the door shut behind him. Without the padlock and chains to keep it in place, the door slanted open near the top. Lorcan frowned up at it.

Elide blinked at him. “Whatcha doing?”

“I’m not leaving you in the middle of nowhere alone, Lochan,” he said. “I already said that. Now, please tell me you have something other than a Ouija board to keep us occupied tonight.”

“You’re impossible,” she said. She dropped down and pulled her down sleeping bag from the backpack along with a few sealed Tupperware of veggies. The duffel had the chocolate.

Lorcan scoffed. “I’m not the one who decided to have a slumber party on death row.”

He cast another dark look around the room, stooping to avoid running into a bean that ran across the cabin. He came to sit beside her in the middle of the floor and offered the duffel up for her.

“Its research thank-you very much,” she replied. “Go ahead and unload that, it’s just got more blankets and water. Don’t touch my chocolate stash.”

Lorcan did as he was told, pulling out two blankets and the giant two-gallon jug of water. He stared between her and the contents.

“How did you carry all this up here?”

“What just because I’m a woman?”

“You’re five-foot nothing with even less meat on your bones than a rabbit.”

Elide stared at him. “I’m going to choose not to take offense to that as long as you hand over the chocolate now.”

“I’m just saying,” Lorcan began, holding the grocery sack of candy out, “I wouldn’t have expected you to handle all that.”

“Yeah right,” Elide muttered. She was grateful for the shadows cast by the flashlight and that hopefully the flush rising in her cheeks was unnoticeable. She tore into one of the chocolate bars and tossed him the veggies. “There, you can be the healthy one.”

And if she wasn’t mistaken, she could have sworn there was a flash of a smile on his lips.

They sat in silence for a few minutes with only the flashlight to illuminate the room. The poor light was hardly helpful however and against her will, Elide found herself glancing off to the far corners of the cabin. She knew it was silly. The house wasn’t drafty and it seemed well enough intact that there shouldn’t be anything sneaking in. Hopefully.

“What kind of extra credit assignment calls for all this?” Lorcan asked. He nibbled on a carrot slice un-enthusiastically as he looked around the cabin.

“Anthro exists on a whole other plain,” Elide said. “The professor doesn’t really care what we do as long as we don’t give him any grief. And no one else seemed interested in this, so I figured why not.”

“Why not indeed,” Lorcan mused. “You just choose chaos at any chance you get.”

Elide threw her half-eaten candy bar at him, which Lorcan caught with ease. Damn him. He only grinned and took a bite of the chocolate before leaning back on an elbow to stare up at the darkened ceiling.

“Y’know,” he began, but a soft snuffling cut him off followed by a series of creaks and groans from the porch outside.

Elide sat up straighter and went for her phone. She’d planned on getting a few recordings or pictures to show for her efforts. And she knew, of course, that it was probably an animal out there but--

“Let’s go see,” she said.

“What?” Lorcan snatched out a hand and snagged her wrist. “We are not going to do that.”

“Oh come on,” Elide insisted. She tried shaking him off, but his grip was tight. “It’s probably a mouse or something.”

The snuffling got louder and the aged wood outside squeaked with the distinct hint of splinters. Perhaps it was not a mouse. By now the rain had lightened up a bit, so it wouldn’t be surprising if there were other animals coming out of their hovels. But she wanted to make this little adventure worthwhile and just catching images of Lorcan—no matter how satisfying—wouldn’t really help her in her search for extra credit.

“Or it could be something not so friendly,” Lorcan said. He didn’t loosen his hold on her, but his voice was softer than it usually ever was.

Elide scowled. “I could be missing my chance to catch footage of a ghost, you know.”

“Or missing the chance to get rabies.”

Lorcan held her gaze for long enough that the noise outside faded. Huffing, Elide settled back down and finally managed to pull her arm away from him.

“You never did answer my question,” she said. She pulled a deck of playing cards from the backpack and began shuffling the deck. She’d been content to play a one woman round of solitaire, but if he was going to insist on staying they could play poker. It had been a while since she’d kicked his ass at it.

“What question?” he asked, tucking the now empty candy wrapper in the duffle bag.

“Why you’re here,” Elide said. “You didn’t have to come. I just texted the group so you’d stop bothering me about going to Maeve’s party.”

Maeve had been a miserable part of Elide’s life ever since starting college that September. The older girl was relentlessly inserting herself into situations and inviting Lorcan out on “study dates.” She used to have her claws latched onto Aelin, until the blonde nearly bit Maeve's head off a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, the girl did know how to throw a party and given how midterms had sucked the life out of everyone it had seemed like a good idea to go.

But Elide still clung to one thread of sanity to know that being anywhere near Maeve while harboring a crush against Lorcan was the stupidest thing she could do.

“I didn’t want to go to Maeve’s party either,” Lorcan said. He was leaning back on his elbows again and the shadows cast from the flashlight illuminated angles of his face she’d never noticed before.

“You didn’t want to go to Maeve’s party?” Elide asked in disbelief. “Her family owns the country club and has enough fancy booze to keep the entire city sated. She may be a bitch, but she knows how to have a good time.”

Lorcan barked out a laugh. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly, Lochan.”

Ignoring the blush that rose to her cheeks, Elide kept shuffling the cards. She couldn’t bring herself to deal them out and invite him to play another little game with her.

Games with the likes of Lorcan were easy enough—don’t back down, keep a sharp tongue, and never apologize. But it was moments like this when she kept making eye contact and kept fighting a blush that she had trouble remembering those little rules. She wasn’t going to survive the night.

Lorcan held her gaze now, though, firm and steady.

“I don’t like Maeve,” Elide finally said. “She’s never bothered to talk to me, so why should I seek out her approval?”

That got her another smile.

“Makes sense,” he replied, “why waste time on something that’s not worth it in the end?”

“Exactly.”

Outside, a gust of wind howled and rain slanted against the side of the cabin. Something heavy thudded against the far wall sending a shudder through each of the beams and floor.

Elide couldn’t help but shudder. She wasn’t scared, of course, but sometimes she didn’t do too well during storms.

“Did the caretaker murder men or women?” Lorcan asked as dust spun in the glow of the flashlight. “Just so I know if I need to start running yet.”

“There’s no ghost,” Elide told him.

“You’re shaking,” he pointed out.

Indeed, she was. Elide ignored it and began dealing out the cards to distract herself.

“Seven card draw,” she said, “jokers are wild.”

“Weird way to play go-fish,” Lorcan muttered as he arranged his card.

“We’re playing poker,” she corrected.

Lorcan stared at her over his card. “Hell no, I’m not stupid enough to play poker against you. And don’t give me that innocent I don’t know what you’re talking about look, it won’t work.”

He’d pitched his voice an octave in clear mockery of her. Elide threw another candy bar at him. “I don’t sound like that!”

Lorcan only laughed, letting the candy bar bounce off his chest.

The wind continued. And with the way Elide and Lorcan played—ruthless with no holding back—go-fish turned into a near bloody battle. They ultimately called a truce after six rounds, three each.

“Tie-breaker!” Elide ordered, gathering the cards back up.

Lorcan groaned and fell on his back. “You said that last time. How long are we staying here?”

“We only have to make it until sunrise,” she said and glanced at her watch, “which is seven hours away.”

“Seriously, woman?” Lorcan sat up enough to glare at her and Elide only smirked.

“Worried about missing your beauty sleep?”

“No, I’m worried about what this floor will do to my back.” He sat up if only to glare at the offending matter.

“C’mon,” she said, “let's spread the blankets out.”

In a matter of seconds, they had the first two blankets spread out as a mat. It would be a little better than laying on the bare floor. Another gust of wind from outside, this one managing to ease through the nooks and crannies of the cabin.

Elide shivered. “I forgot how cold it gets out here.”

“You take the sleeping bag,” Lorcan said.

“I’m not letting you freeze to death.”

“Do you suggest we snuggle then?”

“Are you that touch starved that even the thought of snuggling has you sneering?”

They glared at each other from across the stretch of blankets. Elide broke first and began to fully unzip the sleeping bag so it spread out completely.

“You get one side, I get the other,” she said, “and remember, you’re the one who decided to join me out here.”

Lorcan rolled his eyes, toeing off his boots. “The ghost killed men and you’re just biding your time, aren’t you?”

“Please, if I wanted to get rid of you, I would have by now.” The words were out before she could really process them herself, but Lorcan, it seemed, missed the implication hidden behind them. Good. She wouldn’t make it through the rest of the night if he started teasing her.

They settled down beneath the sleeping back with a good six inches between them. There was a draft on Elide’s outer side, but she didn’t want to risk snuggling into Lorcan. So she kept ramrod straight and clicked off the flashlight.

It was perfectly silent now. Not even the little gusts of wind outside seemed to register anything in Elide. She could hear the wood of the cabin settling and the occasional scuttle of a mouse off in one corner. She tried not to think about that too closely. Everything had settled into a lull that she almost thought Lorcan had fallen asleep beside her.

“I don’t like Maeve either,” he said into the darkness. “Don’t like that party scene, too. It’s what got me into a mess in High School and I just managed to get all that behind me.”

Elide knew--mostly--what his high school years had been like. Too many parties, not enough studying. He would either flunk tests for not knowing the material or flunk because he was suspended. For a while, Elide had thought there was nothing more to Lorcan Salvaterre than drunken nights and wasted DNA.

And boy, how she was wrong.

“So coming out to a haunted house behind a cemetery is how you decide to change your ways?” she turned toward him, just enough to catch the shake of his head.

“Well I’d like to think I helped prevent you from doing anything stupid,” he said.

“You failed on that when you let me pick the lock to the front door.”

Lorcan shifted closer to her and Elide could just make out the glint in his eyes.

“You are full of surprises, you know?”

Elide shrugged, finally feeling herself relax a little. “It’s what keeps things interesting.”

“Menace,” Lorcan muttered.

Elide reached out beneath the blanket to poke his side, earning a curse.

…

Somewhere along the way of their scattered conversations—they fell asleep. Elide would never be able to explain how—considering the wind outside, the surety of mice and spiders crawling on the floor, and the guarantee of haunting of some sort happening—but sleep did fall over them.

And when she woke up to the pale streams of dawn, Elide found that she wasn’t freezing or covered in rodent bites. Rather, she was tucked against Lorcan’s side, snug against his chest. One of his arms fell around her waist, the other stretched over head. She was nestled in so close that she could smell his cologne mingling with his natural scent. She might have only gotten six hours of sleep, but it was the best damn rest she’d had in a long time.

Not good. Not good. Not even remotely good. Elide shifted, ready to roll back to her side of the makeshift bed. Lorcan’s arm tightened around her keeping her firmly in place. Which, sure wasn’t the worst thing in the world. But this was also Lorcan.

She paused for a minute thinking about how her extra credit assignment was going to go if she admitted to a night of snuggling up beside one of her closest friends.

Oh hell. Her friend who she had a crush on.

Elide squinted up at Lorcan, his usually harsh face softening in his sleep. How different he looked like this, more open and relaxed. Closing her eyes, she let herself drift back off to sleep. She would let her self worry about the ramifications of this later.

...

tags: if you like to be added to my TOG tag list let me know!

@morganofthewildfire // @aelinchocolatelover // @sexy-dumpster-fire // @bamchickawowow // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @courtofjurdan // @sassys-world // @sleeping-and-books // @superspiritfestival // @chieflemming // @julemmaes // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @firestarsandseneschals // @rapunzel1523 // @booksofthemoon // @fangirlprincess09 // @highladysith // @tillyrubes10 // @bri-loves-sunflowers // @rowaelinismyotp // @sheharahu // @1islessthan3books // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @vanzetanze // @foughtconquered // @acciowests // @cassianscool // @thegreyj // @story-scribbler // @jesstargaryenqueen // @amoretheiwa // @jorjy-jo // @danibutterr @live-the-fangirl-life // @foreverfallingforthestars // @pastasiren // @whimsicallyreading // @infernoqueen19 // @mis-lil-red // @lemonade-coolattas // @realbookloverproblems // @ghostlyrose2 // @rainbowcheetah512 // @bri-loves-sunflowers // @captain-swan-is-endgame // @mystic-bibliophile // @cretaceous-therapod // @swankii-art-teacher // @thisloveseternal // @gracie-rosee // @goddess-aelin // @liars-lmao // @emily-gsh // @rowaelinrambling // @bookcide //

#elorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elide x lorcan #elorcan au #lorcan x elide #modern au #halloween au #tog #throne of glass #tog fic #throne of glass fanfiction

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iseutijae · 8 months

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entry #1, 22nd september 2023.

Allah's guidance feels beautiful. there may be a period of life where you don't feel anything after committing sins. you're starting to worry as you fear you are in Istidraj. you brush it off trying to get rid of the feeling but it feels heavy, pretending you don't feel that way or you don't know you're feeling that way.

recently, i watched a Malay drama named Nur. beautiful story despite of course— the soap opera, dramatic elements are included in it. Nur talks about how the alley people, prostitutes, society, the common misconception of Islam.

"Allah benci kita, masyarakat benci kita, orang-orang alim mana mungkin suka dekat kita." was along the lines of what one of the characters said, meaning "Allah hates us, society hates us, and the pious will of course dislike us too."

the main character of the story is Nur, the daughter, the granddaughter of prostitutes. who was a believer of and is interested in islam. her mother forbade her from practicing islam, because in her whole life of working as a prostitute, she never got out or have her prayers answered, or so she thinks. she even forbade Nur to read, listen or consume any Islamic materials, contents inside her house because she disliked it, she was angry with god— nauthubillahiminzalik . Nur secretly prays in alleys— beside the road since she's prohibited to in her house, secretly took on a dishwashing job at a nearby restaurant to make ends meet instead of selling her body without telling her mother. she went to a mosque but was chased out by mosque committee members.

learning about islam, of course Nur had her own curiosities, especially with her point of view. but her origin being the allies, she only dared to write her questions on a piece of paper, passed it to a random child in the mosque to give to the ustaz who was giving the morning lecture. the ustaz was ustaz Adam, who was curious with why she refused to ask the question herself. he soon caught her writing a question on a piece of paper, but she ran and left behind the incomplete question paper before he could approach her.

her question was "kenapa Allah lahirkan golongan-golongan lorong hanya untuk dihantar ke neraka, dan dilahiran golongan-golongan orang yang baik untuk dihantar ke syurga? dimanakah adanya Allah, kalau ujian yang dihadapi manusia itu tidak sama beratnya?" which means "why did Allah create the 'sinners' just to be sent to hell, and the pious to heaven? where is He, if the test given to humanity is not equally heavy?"

ustaz Adam's response was that life is never fair.

the 29th of the holy names of Allah— The Asma'ul Husna, Al-Adl. The Embodiment of Justice and Fairness.

Allah created those who are born disabled, those who are poor, living alongside those who are physically perfect and complete, and with those who are rich. but like it or not, they still need to live, even though the fortunate ones don't have to struggle as much whilst.

In our eyes, is that fair?

there are people born as Muslim, and others born and raised with other religions. everyone feels that the world is unfair. but as long as we try to seek His fairness in human standards, we will never see it. we will never see how beautiful it is.

"Jadi, kat mana keredhaan Allah tu?" "So, where is Allah's fairness?" asked Nur.

Sabr. Acceptance. The sixth pillar of Imaan (Faith), acceptance of Qada' and Qadr.

as long as you continue to view your destiny in the eyes of imperfect human standards, you will never find the beauty of Allah's fairness. May you stumble upon difficulties in your life, if obstacles happens to knock you down, there is always the floor to sujood.

Allah loves us. Even if his servants are hit with Istidraj, he is always listening. Make du'a, and he will decide the best path for you. us servants plan, and the All-knowing executes it.

Quran, 3:160

إِن يَنصُرْكُمُ اللَّهُ فَلَا غَالِبَ لَكُمْ وَإِن يَخْذُلْكُمْ فَمَن ذَا الَّذِي يَنصُرُكُم مِّن بَعْدِهِ وَعَلَى اللَّهِ فَلْيَتَوَكَّلِ الْمُؤْمِنُونَ

If Allah assists you, then there is none that can overcome you, and if He forsakes you, who is there then that can assist you after Him? And on Allah should the believers rely (ie. do tawakkul).

from inreflectionofthequran.wordpress.com

continuing from the initial thought behind this post, if you feel similarly, seek those who are well-versed in Islam and surround yourself with those who love and believe in Islam as much as you are, or you want to be. we will all sin as humans, and we should repent to Allah every time. He is the the most gracious and merciful, slowly take your time to change, pray to Allah, seek him, and seek patience. and yes, i recommend everyone to watch Nur. (though it may not be everybody's cup of tea, the message is beautiful, undeniably.)

Wallahua'lam. may we all be a part of As-Sabireen. Allahumma Barik.

(apologies for any mistakes, please kindly point it out and teach me.)

#islam #malaysia #quran #imaan #nur #istidraj

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pegglefan69 · 8 months

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Also new physical therapist had to do a general muscle exam to get an idea of the state of my abdominal wall etc etc & apparently I am SUPER strong lmfao? Glad that I've recovered from bedbound deconditioning but also fibro is INSANE. With the way my body reacts to trying to do even the most basic ADLs I had NO idea. I'm so so lucky that she has a good understanding of both my extremely poor exertion tolerance & that my body will more or less not LET me use my muscles, whatever shape they're in. I'm really looking forward to working with her to figure out how to fix the things I'm seeing her for while still taking care of myself in the process. I learn a lot about how the body works every appointment too, I REALLY like her.

#i haven't had a BAD physical therapist since starting fibro treatment & she is helping me with an entirely different more targeted issue #but i would say she's my favorite!!#dial p for post

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themidrashist · 1 year

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Character creation

I need to develop some avatar characters. I do believe, on some level (level may vary by character and author), that all characters are avatars for their author. But I've done what is likely thousands of pages of journaling and chronicling of my life, and there tend to be two modes:

recent events: document everything with an autistic level of detail and thoroughness

past events, emotions, other: start with a broad-ranging thesis, end up waxing poetic.

Both sound good in different ways, neither lend themselves to achieving my larger writing project goals. So I need to both have fully fictionalised events and enough emotional distance to let rhetoric take the front seat and me working through my shit take the back. (Even though I think ultimately a more effective project would let me more effectively work through my shit.)

This line of reasoning has occurred to me, repeatedly, for over two decades. This, by the way, says less about my age than it might, because I was unexpectedly young (see: autistic) when I first had it. Except I was also wildly unsuccessful at creating that separation in that initial, dangerously depressed child's project and cry for help. But I forget it and forget writing, and both always pop back, and not always in the same ways (see: ADHD).

So there's nothing for it. I need characters. And this is also, now that I recall back to the very recent past, why I went down the rabbit hole of "need to chart every possible category of human relationship." My poor, covid-adled brain.

I've also come again and again to the "use a simplified DnD character sheet as a guide" idea (I'm extremely confident this isn't original, even though in my case I came up with it alone). I suppose I should do an internet search for other character sheets that probably exist out there, perhaps less battle- and more story-focused.

I know there are things like Campfire, because I do follow a certain Youtuber, but apart from not having money to spare, I think sticking to Tumblr and paper notebooks will suit my particular suite of neurodivergencies best. But also definitely the money thing. I did download the free version once and it was both wonderful and too free form for my untethered thoughts. Which I suppose is one of the things that takes me back to DnD again and again. It has so many flavors of anchors. Though—I could break out the dice and mix-and-match tools meant for different systems...

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alazyparallelworld · 2 years

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unrelated but it is wild 2 me hearing n seeing fellow ill / pained ppl go thru the idea of, "i must suffer alone," "i have to work, at my maximum capacity," and that involves a lot of suffering re: chores, meals, even transportation, etc etc

and i'm like. Guys. You guys.... [a very specific subset of guys] just - inquire abt a caregiver

i had this realization a year ago about how much of my life SUCKED. special mobility here takes 3 business days to schedule, they usually don't do grocery trips - and that was just for transportation alone! with how, uh, fucked my body is, a lot of my life kinda fell apart. i couldn't shower, i couldn't eat, my physical and mental pain were disabling alone and together meant i pretty much rotted in bed.

now, uh, chores, self-care, medical management, etc. these are called. ADLS - activities of daily living. if you struggle with literally any of the aforementioned [and there's more, these are just more 'generic' examples] - 1. that's not normal 2. you are supposed to get help

i don't mean that in an 'omg we humans as social species are SUPPOSED to look out for one another' - ok, yes, but: ADLs are the backbone of caregiving. it is Abnormal for people to fail, CONSISTENTLY, at even just one particular ADL, and outside help is -that's the job description! that is what caregivers are for!

maybe there's a misconception of 'but caregivers are only for the elderly/physically disabled' which is - LOL. ok, yes, the majority, the overwhelming majority, yes, but it isn't 100%. you will probably not be denied on the basis 'youre in your 20s/30s/40s, suck it up,' because hey, those assisted living companies want their employees to work. shocking.

Really: payment is the problem. if you fail super hard at just one ADL, you'll likely have a number of hours w/ your caregiver. i have over 70 hours. but my fellow sickly, poor people - check with your state insurance.

it's fucking wild. idk where i'd be without my caregiver. you actually Do Deserve Help that isn't the lofty ideal dream of 'one day i'll get on disability, and i can afford...' or 'my partner does what i cannot...' or 'with therapy, i can improve myself...'

and - that last one, yes, your caregiver usually wants you to get better. that's also a part of the job. but their job is to listen to you - YOU are their boss. this is at your own pace. they are there to help you, whether or not you are 'getting better,' and after weeks/months/YEARS of daily agony - you deserve, and it is expected, for you to fucking collapse and let someone do all the hard work.

#i ramble ★#I'M SORRY IM JUST [SHAKES SOME OF YOU]

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iguessitsjustme · 1 year

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Hearing that person tell em to stop talking to that mute kid and him not even react to it in a bad way but instead made it seem like names feelings were extra because to him it wasn’t what it sounded like when it was made me so pissed! He hasn’t talked to name in the longest and the first time he does and right when mama actually started to smile he ends up hearing someone tell him to not speak to the mute kid and hear

his best friend not even defend him was heartbreaking everything he heard was exactly how it was it made name feel and believe what his mom said was true about him being mute, it makes it true that the reason em wasn’t speaking much to him was cause he was mute cause he isn’t normal I hated so much to see him thinking about taking those pills it’s also so sad to see his friends all have each other but no one reaches out to name even though they know he’s going through a hard time with em he has no one and it’s so freaking sad at this point em is a horrible friend and there’s no defending that now if someone was to say that about my best friend I would had went off

I at this point want name to just have a happy ending where he finds peace within himself and I hope he finds new friends because the ones he has have left him especially the one he thought never would mama is in such a dark place and now with his mother sick I feel so freaking bad it’s so sad I just need em to be serious for one second and to see the damage he has caused and the damaged those words just caused he sees name being extra and taking things out of proportion but he isn’t he’s hurt and he should be

Hello my dear anon! I am going to try my best to answer this with my fever adled brain and also my ears are currently squeezing my brain. Don't ask me how that's possible, just know that's what's happening.

Honestly, I'm still processing what the hell happened in that last episode. I know I have some thoughts about Em, I'm just not entirely sure what they are. But I completely agree. I'm so pissed at Em. What the hell was that about? Does he not refer to Name by his name when talking about him with his college friends? Is that all Name is to him? That mute kid? I'm just so, so confused. Because up until that exact moment, I wholeheartedly believed that Em liked Name and just didn't know how to act about it and didn't know how to handle Name pushing him away and didn't have any time management skills. But that? That is not okay. For any reason.

Name is so much more than his disability. And the problem with Name's mom putting all of the responsibility for Name's emotional wellbeing on Em is that Em is also flawed and is going to fuck up. He's still just a kid. Does that excuse Em's behavior? Absolutely the fuck not. Does it make sense why Name is having such a strong reaction to being essentially abandoned by him? Yes. When Name opened the pill bottle, my heart just broke. And then when Name said "Mom," my heart broke again. I only care about Name's mom's...whatever just happened...in the sense of how it's going to impact Name. That poor boy is alone enough, is isolated enough. What's going to happen when his one constant in his life isn't there?

Back to Em. I find it hard to fully judge Em because we aren't getting as much of him as we are the other characters. We have never seen Em be alone. We have only ever seen Em in the context of his friendships. We've seen Nan, alone, struggling with his internalized ableism and how much he likes Chompu. We've seen Gun, alone, struggling with his insecurities and how much he likes Golf. We've seen Champ, alone, struggling with insecurities and family drama and his desire to make his grandpa proud. We constantly see Name alone. We never see Em alone which makes it hard to judge where he's coming from and how he truly feels. Em is there to help Nan. He's there the help Gun. He's there to help Champ. He isn't really there for Name anymore. But none of the other guys are either and they are ALL supposed to be friends. Though I doubt any of them would let Name be referred to that way. Well, maybe they would. I used to believe Em wouldn't let that happen either and here we are.

I need to see more of Em to truly get a feeling of what's going on with him and why the hell he let someone say that about Name. Either way, I'm pissed. I would just like more context to know just how pissed I should be. I also need to give Name a hug.

#remember me #remember me the series #remember me bl #thanks for the ask #i still love em but that boy needs to get on his hands and knees and beg for forgiveness #he fucked up and he needs to acknowledge that

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sleepers-are-rulers · 2 years

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Top seven Disney villain songs

Oh such a hard choose anon

Hell Fire ( The Hunchback of Notre Dame )

Goodbye So Soon ( The Great Mouse Detective )

Friends on The Other Side ( The Princess and the Frog )

Poor Unfortunate Soul ( The Little Mermaid )

Be Prepared ( The Lion King )

Yodel-Adle-Eedle-O ( Home on the Range

Mother Knows Best ( Tangled )

#anon #disney villains

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aaliyahnakoodawrites · 7 days

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Week 5

What I have learned about client-centred practice

It is the end of fieldwork, and I can confidently say that my experience and skills have been greatly improved at both hospitals that I have been placed at. At these hospitals I have picked up many valuable skills that I believe are going to aid me in my practice in the future. In the final blog of this block, I am going to be talking about my experience with client-centred practice and how I have incorporated this into my therapy sessions at the hospital.

Client-centred practice in occupational therapy is a partnership between the client and the therapist that empowers the client to engage in functional performance and fulfil his or her occupational roles in a variety of environments. (Sumsion, 2016). It is a core principle and aids in intervention and treatment sessions. It has a few fundamental principles that guide practice. These principles include empowering the client and collaborating with the client. It also promotes using a holistic approach for the client when doing treatment, which means seeing the client and treating them as a whole and not only the affected area/body part.

With regards to my clients there were principles of client-centred practice that I used that I found to be useful and helpful in the therapy process. Even though client-centredness should be practiced with all clients it was rather difficult to practice this with the TB spine client who was drowsy and unresponsive for most of the sessions. I found that client-centeredness was easier to practice with client’s that were more alert and responded to verbal cues and questioning. While I understand that client-centredness is the foundation of every intervention session, I found that I only started really incorporating it into sessions after I had researched it. It was only then that I started thinking during sessions, “Is this appropriate for the client?” and “Is this a goal that the client wants to achieve in therapy?”

Client-centredness was easier to practice with the pulmonary TB client Ms. ND. During the first session, I included the client in goal-setting with regards to her standing and walking endurance due to her fatigue. The client discussed with me her fears about standing or walking for long periods. It was then when I realized that the goal for improving standing and walking endurance for the client needed to be according to her capabilities. We both agreed to stand for 2 minutes and sit for 5 minutes after to give her break. This was also practiced with her walking where we set the goal of walking to the balcony together. Thus, the goal for the client was centred around her abilities. With client-centredness it is essential that meaningful occupations are use for the client. This was practiced with the client where I assessed her capabilities in her ADLs and IADLs. The client is competent, so the focus shifted to her interests and leisure activities as the client expressed boredom and low mood. This is where the practice came in, where I provided the client with activities to do during her free time so that she was no longer bored. I also used occupation as a means, using card games and standing while playing to firstly provide interesting games for her while also increasing endurance in standing. In the treatment sessions with the client, I ensured client-centredness by communicating with the client clearly when doing client education. I also tried to use simple language as best as possible, however, sometimes I did use OT jargon. I corrected this by explaining myself to the client when she appeared confused or asked me to repeat myself. I missed an opportunity to practice client-centredness with the client with regards to family and caregiver education. The client is bound to get tired due to her poor endurance. She also may not be as fast with her chores as she was previously. I think I could have explained this to the family during one of their visits, however, I always missed them due to being busy with another client or not being at the hospital during that day. I could have written a note or a letter to them too or contacted telephonically as well, however, I did not do this as I did not get a chance during our second treatment session. The client was also discharged on the day that I planned to do the family education. I realize now that family or caregiver education is also important during client-centred practice as it could have helped them to understand that the client is a priority on discharge and how to help her should she need it.

Personally, client-centredness was harder to practice with MN, a TB spine patient due to his difficulties in comprehension. There was a lot of confusion when asked about his leisure activities so the activity had to be something general that I thought that he as a 54-year-old black south African male may enjoy. That was a client-centred to a limited extent due to his inability to comprehend. However, I do think that client-centred was practiced with regards to focusing on his ADLs and other abilities even though the client was not involved in goal-setting or could not properly communicate.

In conclusion, while I have honed my skills with practice in client-centredness through various treatment sessions with my clients, I think that every client presents with a uniqueness in client-centredness. While one client allowed me various opportunities to practice client-centredness, the other did not present with the opportunity. I have learned that using client-centredness comes naturally when the focus of the session is on what the client can do and not on what the client should do. All in all, client-centred practice is an essential skill for occupational therapists as it aids in skill development.

Resource:

Sumsion T. A Revised Occupational Therapy Definition of Client-Centred Practice. British Journal of Occupational Therapy. 2000;63(7):304-309.

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