#there were days i didn’t particularly want to do my schoolwork but i recovered and idk if it notably suffered

[marielle-heller]

.

#as someone who did complete her master’s #and gets through work every night #i’m fucking terrified for my ocd diagnosis #i would LOVE to have it #and i’m just scared with everything i manage (in spite of wanting to die die die kill myself) that like #somehow i won’t seem bad enough #there were days i didn’t particularly want to do my schoolwork but i recovered and idk if it notably suffered #so it’s just like #idk i feel like that’d be SUCH a fucking blow like #basically a massive dismissal of everything wrong with me #and essentially that yeah i don’t suffer Enough to be valid #and i’m just scared about my doctor’s appointment and meeting the criteria and being taken seriously #cause i find having shit to get done can be a bit of a distraction #so it’s EASIER #but i guess ocd should impair my performance #and i just idk i wanna die about that now

[theartofimaginaryfriends]

Hey I'm the person that request that Apollo caught reader and Percy kissing. Could you do a sort of part 2 of that where she gets injured on the quest and Apollo/Lester has to tell. She's in critical condition and might not make it and Percy's a wreck. Apollo can only think of hyacinth. But happy ending where she makes it. I always feel awkward requesting 2 times on a blog like I'm bothering them. So if I'm bothering you I'm sorry.

Come Back to Me Part 2

Premise: Y/N got fatally wounded when the Waystation went under attack. When Percy found out, he refused to leave her side. Apollo can't help but think about his lover, Hyacinth. 

Masterlist

A/N: This was going to be completely written yesterday, but I tend to write in the evenings and it was 1AM so I went to bed because I forgot I had a meeting this morning XD Also!! You are never bothering me sending in requests! If you have any other requests or just want to send in an ask feel free to do so and I will be more than happy to write it/respond to you! This fic is something I’m particularly fond of because I love Apollo’s character development in TOA, and it was fun to play with. There’s a bit more focus on Apollo than there is Percy, but I still really love it. Hope you do, too :D For context in this: Y/F/F = Your Favourite Food

The guilt Apollo felt worsened as he approached the apartment complex for the second time this year. This time around, however, he wouldn't find his daughter sprawled out on the Jackson's couch bored out of her mind from all the studying. He knew where she was, and he was afraid to break the news to Percy.  

His hand hovered over the buzzer, and he took a deep breath. His companion on this trip – Thalia Grace – nudged him to remind him why he came back. He mentally prepared himself for what was going to come his way before pressing the button, and the same female voice greeted him like last time. "Hello?" 

"Um, hi," the former God cleared his throat. "It's Apollo. I hate to stop by, but I have news that  Percy's going to want to hear."  

"Oh, I'll buzz you in," Sally's voice sounded as scared as Apollo felt. Percy's mother adored Y/N, and it comforted him to know she was being well taken care of. Especially because he couldn't.  

He reluctantly knocked on the door, and this time was greeted by the teenager looking worried and exhausted, rather than annoyed at his arrival. "What the hell happened- oh hey, Thalia." 

"Hey, Percy," the huntress gave her friend a sad smile. "It's about Y/N, can we come in?" 

Percy nodded and stepped aside. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, only increasing Apollo's nerves. He really hated mortal emotions, still not seeing the benefit to them. They never seemed to be helpful in any situation, but he couldn't control how he felt. Especially when the topic happened to be someone he cared about. 

Sally, Percy, and his stepfather Paul led them to the small living room to chat. The son of Poseidon had an intense look in his eyes, filled with concern and resentment. Apollo had a feeling the resentment was directed towards him but opted to believe the opposite. He couldn't bear to look anyone in the eye as he told them what had happened.  

Y/N was at the Waystation when it went under attack, and Commodus had his Germani holding her, Emmie, Georgina, and Leo hostage. In an attempt to help her escape, Apollo managed to reveal his true Godly form which blinded the New Hercules and his troops. In doing so, the Germani holding Y/N hostage wounded her before turning into dust. The wound was fatal, and it didn't look good for her.  

Percy stayed silent as Apollo explained, his expression changing from anxious, to angry, and then distressed. Everyone present waited for him to say something, but it seemed as though he couldn’t. Sally instinctively brought her son into a comforting hug, and at her touch, the boy burst into tears. Y/N had been injured in fights before, but never severe enough that it was likely she wouldn't survive.  

Apollo couldn't help but get choked up himself. He had grown fond of his daughter in the two months he spent with her on the Quest. Despite the constant near-death experiences, Apollo had gotten to know her beyond a hero. It was his fault she was in this state, and he was worried the demigod sitting in front of him would blame him as well.  

"I need to be with her," Percy wiped the tears from his eyes, speaking more to Sally than anyone else.  

"How safe is the Waystation right now?" The woman asked kindly.  

"Percy will be in safe hands," Thalia answered, smiling as Sally. "I'll make sure he gets back to you in one piece."  

"Go, Y/N needs you right now," Sally squeezed Percy's shoulder. As soon as Sally said that, Percy rushed to his room, and emerged with a duffle bag not even a minute later.  

He hugged his parents goodbye and left with Thalia and Apollo. The demigod radiated anguish, causing the tension to increase between the three of them. Thalia glanced at Apollo, a look of pity in her eyes. She was worried about Y/N like everyone else, but she had a feeling she would be okay. It would just take time for her to heal.  

*** 

Percy hadn't left Y/N's side since he came to the Waystation. Emmie and Jo were worried about the boy, trying to convince him to eat more than just some toast for the fifth time that day. Leo tried to help as well, noticing that his friend wasn't sleeping at all.  

It had been two days, and Y/N's condition hadn't changed in the slightest. While Jo tried to convince the residents that it could mean good news, Apollo could tell she was as worried as the rest of them. This was a difficult wound to treat, and quite frankly it was a miracle Y/N had lasted this long.  

Apollo couldn't help but think of Hyacinthus when he had dropped by to visit his daughter in the infirmary. Percy looked completely broken as he gripped her hand, reminding him of how he felt when his lover was killed by Zephyros.  

In his eyes, Hyacinthus was the most beautiful man he had ever been with. The love that Apollo felt for him was still prominent to this day, causing the former God to compare all of his lovers to him. It still pained him to think about his lover, and the Hyacinth was a painful reminder of what he had lost. Due to Zephyros, Apollo would never feel a love like that again carrying the burden of grief for the rest of his Immortal life.  

Percy felt the same way about Y/N that Apollo felt for Hyacinthus, and it broke his heart. The boy didn't even notice when there were other visitors around, and Apollo was convinced that the demigod barely even knew where he was at this point. The only thing Percy could focus on was his girlfriend, who seemed paler since the last time Apollo came to visit.  

He held his daughter's free hand, finding himself praying to anyone that would listen. Don't you think this is punishment enough? Putting me in this pathetic mortal body, and putting my own life at risk? Y/N doesn't deserve to die, she has an entire life left to live. Please, don't take this away from her. She doesn’t deserve this. 

*** 

Y/N had gotten herself injured before, but the pain this time around was unbearable. She was weary when she woke up, and only vaguely aware of where she was. All she remembered was being held hostage by the Germani, and a sharp pain as she shielded her eyes away from Apollo's Divine form. The next thing she knew, she was confined to a bed in an infirmary with... snakes? 

The next thing she became aware of was the boy sitting next to her. His jet black hair was a mess, and his sea-green eyes were red and puffy. He had an iron grip on her hand, to the point that it almost distracted from the pain she felt from her wound. "Perce, you may want to lessen your grip a bit there." 

Her throat was extremely sore, and her voice didn't sound any better. Percy didn't seem to care, though, seeing his girlfriend awake. Exhausted and in pain, but awake. He almost fell out of his chair in shock, amusing the girl to no end, but quickly recovered. The smile on his face was infectious, and Y/N was pleased to see him. "How are you feeling?" 

She was about to reply when Jo came running in. "What's going- Oh! You're awake."  

The old woman looked relieved and rushed over to give Y/N some nectar. It tasted like Y/F/F and Sally's blue cookies. Her strength returned enough that Percy was able to help her sit up. "How long was I out?" 

"Three days," Percy answered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "We didn't think you were going to make it." 

"You really think I was going to die?" Y/N snorted. "Gods, what a lame way to kick the bucket." 

"Not funny," Percy crossed his arms and tried to look disappointed in her.  

"It was a little funny!" 

"No, it wasn't." 

"Babe, you're smiling. " Percy rolled his eyes and leaned over to kiss her. He listened to Y/N as she recounted what had been happening the past seven weeks, overjoyed that she was back by his side.  

The two barely noticed Jo leave the room and Apollo watching them at the doorframe. He was glad his daughter was okay and even happier to see her smiling. He wasn't sure if it was because his prayer was answered, or some sort of miracle happened, but he was grateful to know that she was alive. Apollo wasn't about to let Y/N lose the love of her life, especially at such a young age.  

At that moment, Apollo knew that he couldn't allow Y/N to join him on any more quests – even if it meant fighting with her about it. She was meant to go back to New York with Percy, and catch up on the schoolwork that she missed. The former God couldn't take that away from his kid and preferred she live a boring life for a while. As long as she was safe, it didn't matter to him. 

#percy jackson #pjo #hoo #toa #trials of apollo #percy jackson x reader

[evilrubberducke]

An Acidic Christmas to All

Just in time for Christmas, here’s a fluffy little one-shot where Mina discovers a surprising and adorable truth about her boyfriend.

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21928798

Or on FF.net https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13459884/1/An-Acidic-Christmas-to-All

“What’cha writing Izuku?” Mina asked, dropping into the seat next to her boyfriend.

It was Christmas Eve, and most of the class was relaxing in the common room. Classes had wrapped up a few days before, but they were still recovering from the hellish exams their teachers had inflicted upon them. Last year’s exams had been cakewalks in comparison, and Mina found herself actually missing the comparatively lax curriculum of their first year at UA. 

“Oh! It’s, uh, it’s nothing!” Izuku said, hurriedly shutting his notebook. 

That got her attention immediately. He wouldn’t have bothered to hide schoolwork, and he would have been only too happy to share any hero analysis notes he was making. That meant it was either something he was embarrassed about, or something he was trying to keep away from her. This close to Christmas, that could only mean one thing. 

He was working on a present for her, and Mina was now dead set on finding out what was in that notebook. 

Christmas had always been one of her favorite holidays, but that didn’t mean Mina had the patience to wait for it to arrive. She had always been the type to surreptitiously shake any presents addressed to her in order to find out what was inside. As she had gotten older, a mini arms race had developed between her and her parents as they tried to find new places to hide her gifts, and she tried to discover them.

“Really?” she said in a sing-song tone, “Guess you won’t mind me looking at it, if it’s nothing…”

Izuku paled slightly, and he quickly stuffed the notebook behind his back in a desperate attempt to protect its contents. Not that it would stop Mina. 

She tried to reach behind him to grab the notebook, but he scooted backwards in response, forcing her to chase him down the couch. A moment later, and he was flush with the edge and had nowhere else to run. 

“M-Mina, it- it’s really nothing!” Izuku protested, shifting to avoid her reach, “Just some extra English notes!”

“Oh yeah?” she replied, a coy smile on her lips, “You know, I didn’t do so well on our last English exam. Guess I need some extra study time. Or just a peek at your notes.”

“G-Good idea!” Izuku said, leaping to his feet, “I’ll just, uh, go grab them for you.”

“Why? Didn’t you just say you had them right there?”

Izuku froze for a second, caught in his own lie. Mina seized the opportunity to make another grab for the notebook. Unfortunately, she misjudged the distance slightly and only managed to knock the notebook out of Izuku’s grasp.

It skidded across the common room floor, out of the reach of Izuku’s desperate grab, finally coming to rest at Bakugou’s feet.

The explosive blond glared at the notebook as if it had committed a grave sin by entering his personal space. Then, he reached down, grabbed it, and prepared to fling it back in Izuku’s general direction, likely with a bit of extra explosive force included.

Before he could, however, some part of the notebook’s contents caught his eye. He frowned, eyes dancing back and forth as he scanned for a moment, before promptly bursting into laughter. 

“I cannot fucking believe that you’re this lame. How do you still believe this shit?”

Izuku flushed at the words, and his posture slumped.

“Hey!” Mina cried, leaping to her boyfriend's defense, her previous present-chasing behavior completely forgotten, “Stop being a jerk, Bakugou. Izuku isn't lame!”

“Get off my case, Raccoon Eyes,” Bakugou snapped, “Read it and weep. Your dumbass boyfriend still believes in Santa.” With that, he tossed the notebook directly to her, gently enough that she didn’t have to struggle to catch it. 

The notebook was still open to the page Izuku had been working on. One side contained a list of activities, several of which Mina remembered Izuku doing in the past few months. On the other side was a column labeling each entry as either “naughty” or “nice”. From what she could see, there were far more “nice” items on the list, which made the few “naughty” items stand out. 

Most of the naughty items consisted of time he had thought poorly of someone, usually Bakugou. Mina had always known that Izuku was sweet as could be, but her heart went out once more to the boy who had labeled himself as naughty for thinking Bakugou had been a bit mean to their classmates.

What also caught here eye were a series of entries concerning her. Every few entries, there would be one labeled “Thought about Mina in class”. These were all labeled as naughty in big, blocky letters, and underlined for extra emphasis. Mina frowned a bit at that, wonder what exactly she had done to make Izuku think poorly of her during class that often. 

She glanced up to find that Izuku had somehow slumped even further, practically curling in on himself. His eyes were downcast, and his entire face was red with embarrassment. 

Before Mina could say anything, Izuku’s body crackled with electricity. He surged forward in a blur, grabbed the notebook out of her hands and disappeared up the stairs before she could even react, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Mina stared in surprise at the spot where Izuku had vanished, along with everyone else in the common room. Emotional outbursts weren’t exactly a rarity for Izuku, they had all seen him burst into tears enough times to be used to it, but none of them had ever seen him react quite like that before. 

Mina spared a moment to produce a glob of particularly viscous, minimally acidic goo that she flicked at Bakugou, before taking off after Izuku. She didn’t get to see it lodge directly in his spiky hair, though she did hear his inarticulate scream of rage. The petty revenge brought a small smile to her face. That was what he got for messing with her boyfriend!

It took her several minutes to locate Izuku. He wasn’t in his room, or any of the spots he usually hung out in. She had been on the verge of recruiting some of their classmates to form a search party when she had stumbled across him sitting on an isolated corner of the dorm roof, not even wearing a jacket despite the freezing cold.

He was kicking his feet idly over the edge as he stared into the night, notebook still clutched tightly to his chest. He looked up at her approach, and Mina could see that his eyes were red and slightly puffy, and his nose was running a bit from crying.

Her heart ached for him, and Mina wasted no time dropping down next to him and wrapping him in a tight hug.

“I’m… I'm sorry,” Izuku said softly, once the embrace had calmed him down a little, “I know I’m lame, and-and weird, and—”

“Shhhh,” Mina said, planting a soft kiss on his forehead, “None of that. You’re not lame.  I think it’s sweet that you believe in Santa. Besides, Bakugou is a jerk for teasing you like that, and I don’t care if I get put on the naughty list for saying it. He can go step on a bunch of LEGO bricks.”

That wrung a chuckle from Izuku, which made Mina feel a little better in tandem. She hated seeing him like this. It was so at odds with the kind, confident young man she knew Izuku to be.

“Thank you,” Izuku said gently, “for, um, not thinking I’m crazy.”

“Of course,” she replied, snuggling closer to him. She laid her head on his shoulder, mindful of poking him with her horns, and sighed in contentment as his arm came up to wrap around her shoulders. It was far too cold to be perfectly comfortable, but other than that Mina was in her favorite spot in the entire world.

“Like I said,” she continued, “I think it's sweet. Besides, we know someone who can create any toys she wants just by thinking about it. Who’s to say Santa isn’t real, and just a distant relative of Yaomomo?”

Izuku’s chuckle turned into a full blown laugh, and Mina joined him a moment later as they both pictured Yaoyorozu in a puffy red suit and white beard, handing out presents to the rest of the class.

After their mirth was done, they lapsed into an easy silence, simply enjoying each other's company. They rarely got the chance for a quiet moment like this when school was in session. their teachers kept them busy, and what little free time they used to have during their freshman year had long ago been eaten up by their internships. 

Eventually, Mina broke the silence as something she had wanted to ask Izuku popped into her mind.

“Hey, Izuku, you don’t have to tell me, but… when Bakugou threw me the notebook earlier, I saw a few entries in it about me. They said you were thinking about me in class. Do you mind telling me what I did?”

Izuku stiffened, then turned to look at her. His cheeks were cherry red, and his mouth opened and closed several times before any sound came out. 

“T-that’s not… I didn���t… I mean, I did, but I just…” he trailed off, obviously unsure of how to continue.

“It’s really okay if you don’t want to tell me,” Mina said. She would be disappointed, sure, but she would rather that than make him too uncomfortable.

“No, I…” he took a deep, calming breath before continuing, “S-sometimes in class, I can’t help but remember how pretty you are, and then I… I kind of want to just kiss you.”

Mina coughed in surprise. She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d been expecting, but it definitely hadn’t been that. 

She had a hard time picturing him getting distracted by her in class. Whenever she surreptitiously shot a glance his way during class, he always seemed so studious and focused on the material that it made her try harder to focus as well.

The admission also seemed a little out of character for Izuku. When the two of them had started dating, it had taken her nearly two months to cajole him into kissing her, and even then it had just been a chaste peck on the lips. He had gotten quite a bit more comfortable with physical intimacy since then, but he was still firmly on the chaste side when compared to other boys his age. The idea of him getting a bit hot and bothered over her was fascinating, and more than a little flattering. 

“Izuku, you don’t have to feel bad about that. We’re dating. You’re allowed to fantasize. I even encourage it!” she said, giving him a wink.

He ducked his head in embarrassment, but brought it back up a moment later.

“Then, can I…” he gestured vaguely between them.

She smiled and leaned in, in lieu of an answer. A moment later Izuku did the same, pulling Mina close. He was warm, gentle, and so very loving, and when the lack of oxygen finally forced her to pull away, Mina did so reluctantly. She wished the kiss could last forever.

“I love you Mina,” Izuku whispered, pressing his forehead against hers.

“I love you too.”

Even Izuku's warmth couldn't entirely negate the cold, however, and Mina had to suppress a shiver a moment later. He, of course, noticed immediately. 

"We should probably go back inside," Izuku said, rising to his feet. 

Mina nodded, clambering slowly to her feet. They hadn't been sitting for that long, but the cold had had just enough time to stiffen her muscles.

They were just a few steps from the door back inside when something caught Mina’s eye. She blinked, then rubbed her eyes in disbelief. Still, the fantastical sight in front of her refused to disappear. Quickly, she grabbed Izuku’s arm and pointed out towards Mustafu’s skyline.

There, above the buildings, a red streak was darting about in a seemingly random pattern. It moved far too quickly to be any sort of refuse or stray decoration blowing in the find, and far too erratically to be any sort of drone or electronic device. It was only when the streak slowed slightly that the pair of students could get a proper look at it.

It looked, for all intents, like an old fashioned red sleigh with a massive sack in the rear seat. A large figure in equally bright red clothing sat in the front seat. The figure was a blur themselves, reaching into the sack behind them and showering the buildings beneath them with boxes with superhuman speed. 

Izuku and Mina glanced at each other, mouths agape and eyes as wide as saucers. When they turned back, however, the Mustafu sky was completely empty. Despite them only looking away for a second, the figure had vanished without a trace. 

“Y-You don’t think…” Izuku began, his tone even more awestruck than when All Might had once called him “An inspiration”.

“N-No,” Mina replied haltingly, “It was… probably just some villain with a flying quirk. Or maybe Hawks is on an errand in the city.”

When they turned around, however, both of them stopped dead in their tracks. Resting just in front of the roof entrance was a small present. It was impeccably wrapped in green paper, with a neat bow on the top. A small tag proudly proclaimed the present was “To: A true believer, From: Santa”

When Izuku hesitated for a moment, Mina elbowed him in the side. “Izuku, if you don’t open that present right now, I’m melting it open,” she hissed.

Izuku obliged, carefully opening the wrapping paper at the seams and sliding the box out gently. Inside, a golden star rested on a bed of velvet. Despite the relatively dim light of the dorm roof, the star twinkled merrily, and Mina knew with absolute certainty that it wasn’t just painted gold.

“Oh, that is so going on the Christmas tree!” Mina said, lifting the star from its box.

It was far heavier than it looked, and for a moment, she worried that she might drop the ornament. Before she could, however, Izuku placed his hands beneath her own.

“Race you downstairs?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“You’re on!” she cried gleefully. 

The two raced downstairs, arm in arm, laughing the entire time. It didn’t matter that no one would ever believe what they had seen. They had seen it together, and that was enough.

And far above the city, a merry laugh could be heard echoing across the sky as the man in the red suit raced across the globe, bringing joy to as many children as he could manage.

#izumina #dekumina #midoriya izuku #mina ashido #fluff #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha #bnha fanfiction #minadeku #slice of life #Christmas #two dorks in love

[mildlincrs]

hi, tumblr — it's been (way longer than) a minute, but i'm back from the chaotic journey that was junior year! and with that, i wanted to continue what i started with my advice for rising freshmen and rising sophomores; i’ll be writing a final post for rising seniors once i (theoretically) finish high school.

note: i'm currently attending high school in the united states, so there are certain points i mention that may not apply to you if you aren't also studying in the u.s., but i still hope that you get something out of this post!

note 2: this post is pretty long -- a lot longer than the previous advice posts -- and also pretty personal. i go in-depth on what junior year was like for me (spoiler: not great), and subsequently, i have plenty of advice to help avoid some of what i ended up experiencing. 

my junior year experience

for reference, click [here] a list of my junior year classes (along with classes i’ve taken and plan to take). i took two ap courses, and the rest of my courses with the exception of band were honors courses. 

to be blunt -- junior year was one of my worse years of high school, academically and mentally. sophomore year was definitely one of my lowest points, too, but junior year was really shitty in a lot of ways. i was busy working (trying to) nearly all the time, and i found myself constantly under stress, struggling to maintain my grades -- especially in my calculus and physics classes. at a certain point in the year, i subconsciously stopped caring, i think, to the point where i couldn’t focus at all when i was working, instead opting to do things that were considerably less productive. i’d study for up to five minutes at a time, only to stress myself out of studying and go to sleep -- yes, i stressed myself to sleep. other nights, i’d stay up doing absolutely nothing, in spite of the massive amounts of work and studying i still had left to do. i was close to failing my physics class, at one point, too, and physics was arguably the class i studied and worked the hardest for.

another reason that this year was pretty terrible for me was the fact that i was recovering from several injuries. in june of 2018, i injured my knees -- for reasons i’d prefer not to disclose -- and though they were healing over the summer, with marching band, the injuries were only exacerbated. if you want an idea of how bad they were, i struggled to simply walk short distances if i didn’t have any sort of support. marching band is basically dignified, faster walking, so you can imagine the kind of stress that i was under. because of this, i had to stop dancing and take a season of winter guard off -- two of my biggest emotional releases in life. without both of those things for over six months, i felt pretty directionless, and i ended up relapsing (i have chronic depression). that along with the business of junior year made life feel pretty damn miserable. physical therapy didn’t help me, i had virtually no time to schedule a meeting with a therapist or other mental health professional, and i was exhausted 24/7. 

all this being said, junior year still had its good moments! i got to take two astronomy semester courses, both of which only reinforced my love for astronomy  -- i’ll be doing astronomy-related research in the fall - i got to play some pretty damn good music in band, qualified and made all-state band for the first time, and i became closer with my best friends and got to make new ones. i completed a year-long research paper (while missing quite a few deadlines on the way) that turned into what’s probably the most vulnerable piece of writing i’ve ever produced (message me if you’re interested in reading it!), and i didn’t fail any of my classes. good stuff. 

more on not failing my classes: 2nd semester was kind of weird for me, in that my grades went up in some classes, but slowly sort of decreased in others. for example -- i studied and worked my ass off trying to improve my calculus grade during 1st semester, but my exhaustion caused me to fall asleep during a lot of classes, meaning that i would always miss the material being taught, and by the time i got home that day, i was so exhausted that i would just fall asleep until the next morning, not even bothering to figure out what i had missed during class. with physics, worked harder than i ever had during 1st semester, but i continued to receive low scores on tests and heavily relied on my lab and quiz grades to keep me afloat. i cared less about japanese more and more, (which SUCKS because i really loved the class and language but my effort just went downhill) and i can distinctly remember not studying for several of the tests that were administered, and as such, receiving subpar scores. i did, however, pass all of my finals and ap exams, which was definitely a plus. 

tldr: my work ethic went to shit, and i salvaged it somewhat, at the cost of losing a lot of sleep and not eating for multiple days at a time WHICH IS NOT HEALTHY. DON’T DO THIS PLEASE. junior year was worse than sophomore year in a lot of ways, but i fucking MADE IT so who’s the real winner here

advice for junior year

my number one piece of advice is to take care of yourself. you’ve probably heard it before, but that’s because you should do it. i’m 100% serious when i say that it can really make a difference. i mentioned that i lost a lot of sleep and didn’t eat sometimes during the school year, and because of that, i was super super sick at one point which only made my mental health worse, which only decreased my ability to focus and work properly. please stay healthy ahh like hydrate, get some mf sleep, and eat well! if you have to choose between studying for a test and sleeping at 3am, then go the fuck to sleep. and it’s not just about being healthy enough to do well in school! it’s literally your own wellbeing. put your physical and mental needs first, no matter what.

for ap courses: highly recommend looking on the collegeboard website for practice questions! the website also outlines the test structures, which i found helpful for me when i was studying for the exams. if you’re hoping to score a 4 or 5 on your ap exams, it’s in your best interests to go in prepared as possible. iirc the website also provides overviews of all the content that should be studied/is covered on the exam, which can help structure your studying, too!

another thing on ap courses: while if you score well enough on ap exams, you might be able to transfer those credits to your college courses (if you enroll at a u.s. college), i wouldn’t recommend loading your schedule with ap courses. they’re college-level courses for a reason; they will be fast-paced and involve a lot of work on your part. a rule that i used when deciding what ap courses i would take in high school: if i didn’t particularly like the subject, then i took the honors version of the course. otherwise, if i felt like i could challenge myself, was interested in the course, and if it was available, then i signed up for it. i knew from sophomore year that i wasn’t good at dealing with both school and my mental health, so i recognized that i’d need to lessen my ap coursework as much as possible so that i didn’t throw myself into an even worse situation (i took zero aps sophomore year). 

don’t spread yourself too thin involving yourself in things in and out of school. sort of similar to my philosophy of not overloading my schedule, i made sure that i only committed myself to extracurriculars that i cared about and enjoyed doing. i personally marched my third season of marching band, and remained involved in my school’s urban dance club as much as possible (though when i took a break from dancing, that was definitely harder, but towards the end of the year, i was able to participate in a few performances with my friends). i also participated in an outside wind ensemble every week, and that was plenty for me -- i had a lot of music to practice both for that group and my school’s band, and then i had to balance THAT with practicing music for private lessons & auditions, and with schoolwork. i know there are people who are involved in so many extracurriculars, which i wouldn’t recommend. devote yourself to what you love in high school; that will also give you something worth writing about in things such as college applications! better to pursue what you love with passion and authenticity than to sign-up for a club for the clout even if you’re not remotely interested in it. 

if it’s offered where you live, i would recommend taking the sat and/or act during your junior year. i’d also recommend taking subject tests if you have the time for it. the earlier you take these tests, the more likely you are to have an opportunity to retake them if you don’t score as well as you hope. you can also start taking these tests during sophomore year -- i took sat subject tests in june of my sophomore year, took the sat twice during junior year, and i will be taking the act in july. i’ll also be retaking an sat subject test and taking a completely new one. 

while it may be daunting, start thinking about college -- whether you want to go to college or not, where or what you’d like to study, etc. since i plan on majoring in music, i started researching sort of early so that i could give myself enough time to finalize a list of the colleges i am applying to and the repertoire i need to learn and practice for auditions. but regardless of what you decide to do with your future, no one is expecting you to have every step of your life labeled out. things can change, and that’s okay! that’s literally how life works. definitely reach out to your counselors if you want advice from them! i’d also recommend sitting down with your parents and talking about the college application process with them and what they can do to help you.

there’s a lot of pressure during junior year -- it’s the last full year of high school before college applications, and typical for students to be busy 110% of the time. that said, find time for yourself to destress and do nothing school or work-related. if it helps, schedule specific times of the day where you just relax and do something that makes you happy. finding a work-life balance can really make a difference (i say, not having one, though i have many friends who talk about this to me).

if you need help with anything at all -- talk to someone about it! feeling super stressed and shitty? talk to someone you trust, whether they’re your closest friend or a teacher (which reminds me, if you plan on asking a teacher for a rec, take time to talk with them if you can, it makes a difference). you are not alone. i know for some people (especially for me, actually), it can be super difficult to open up about what you’re dealing with, but it’s arguably better than trying to push your way through it all on your own.

best of luck during your junior year -- i believe in you<3

love, fei

#mine #mmp #mp #studying #studyblr #high school #study #studyspo #advice #tbhstudying #studyquill #lookstudyblr #obsidianstudy #heysareena #focusign #study tips #school

[viostormcaller]

Ego Headcanons: Jackieboy Man

I meant to do this yesterday night but I had schoolwork and then I had a headache and was burnt out, so whoops! But I'm doing it now! Just like the others it's probably gonna be long so ya know. Here goes:

Jackie has adored superheroes since he was little. The superhero persona he is seen as is actually just a silly character he made up when he was younger, but he kept the name because of the sentimental value behind it. It took the city a long time to take him seriously, and even then not everyone does

Jackieboy Man is transgender! He was born female, and over time saved up to get top surgery. He wasn't able to get bottom surgery because he had to start focusing his money into upgrades for his suit and equipment, which he figured was much more important

This is also the reason why his hero name is Jackieboy Man. When he created the character as a kid he was adamant about being seen as a boy. The name meant a lot to him, so he refused to change it when he became a superhero

Jackie's real name actually is Jackie -- it was the name he was born with. Because he sees it as a gender-neutral name, he didn't feel the need to change it after his transition

Jackie went to a fancy prep school in high school. It was around then that he got his powers. He still doesn't know how it happened. He had been trying to get his phone that slid underneath a parked car, and for whatever reason his brain told him to lift it. He did, and found the car weighed virtually nothing. He almost dropped it on himself in surprise.

He became a student by day, crime fighter by night. This made his studies difficult, but he managed through it. Once he graduated, he got a job at a comic book store and used any extra money he had to try and design a suit for himself. For the time being he wore a red hoodie fitted with shoulder and chest pads, he wore kneepads over a pair of leggings, and he wore gloves and boots as well as his signature mask.

Jackie is insanely intelligent. Like, insanely. He's an absolute master at puzzle solving and is extremely well versed in technology. He invents things often and is an impressive coder.

Once he saved up enough to make his first armored suit, he started taking on more difficult enemies rather than just fighting robbers and criminals. However, because the police saw him regularly turning in these people, they grew to trust Jackie and eventually partnered up with him. He began earning money through the city and was able to quit his day job before long

On the side, while Jackie was hunting down the supervillains that lived in the area, he was also on a secret mission to hunt down people on the Deep Web. He was forced to give up the case after he had been kidnapped, his captors not quite realizing who they were dealing with

He met Marvin when a powerful villain attacked a theater. At the time, this villain's skills were about on par with Jackie's, so taking them down prover to be tough. When Marvin revealed he knew real magic, they teamed up to take the villain out

Jackie, figuring a partner was just what he needed, offered to meet up with Marvin that next weekend to get to know him better. Marvin accepted and they went out for pizza and talked everything over

After a while of teaming up and growing close, the pair moved in together.

They may not be brothers or related by blood in any sense of the word, but they might as well have been. They were rarely seen without each other. They never fought, and their interests overlapped so they always had something to talk about

They made it a habit of theirs to always cook something for every meal. Marvin was an exceptional cook, while Jackie was still learning. Marvin taught him some things that he knew, and on mornings and at night they both cooked together. Every meal was home cooked, no matter how simple it was

They were both usually home during the day; since they both earned money from the city, they didn't have any obligations. They both dedicated this time to research and studying, and they would spar occasionally

Jackie and Marvin both suffer from gender dysphoria. On a day that it was particularly bad, Jackie revealed to Marvin that he was transgender. After Marvin revealed he was genderfluid and he understood where Jackie was coming from, Marvin offered to use transformation magic to finish off Jackie's transition. Jackie agreed, and while he swore he had never been in so much pain in his entirel life, he still feels eternally indebted to Marvin because he did that for him.

They met Schneep on a night Jackie was gravely injured. The three felt a connection between each other and stayed in touch after Jackie and Marvin both recovered, and refused to see any other doctor after a while. They moved in with him once Schneep bought a house.

Jackie, like Schneep, is also pansexual. Unlike Schneep, however, he hasn't been in many relationships because he was too afraid he'll put his future partner in danger by being in a relationship with him. Moreover, he's constantly busy doing hero-related stuff, so he doubted he would have the time.

Schneep once made Jackie a picture of him in a comic-book style. Jackie had it framed and hung it up in his room, right over his bed. When Schneep found out Jackie did that, he teared up

Jackie is up the earliest out of all the Egos. He spends the mornings doing research, and then cooks with Marvin once he gets up. He goes on patrols at night

Jackie's powers include super strength, super speed, the power of flight, the ability to envelop his fists in green flames, and a sonic clap (which he only uses if he absolutely must; it's extremely dangerous and destructive). He excels in melee combat which compliments Marvin's ranged combat

When Jackie's using his powers, his eyes will glow a bright green, and if he's under a lot of strain his veins will glow faintly green as well. When this happens he knows he's reaching a limit

Jackie is the most optimistic. He's also the most silly (with Chase coming in close second). Chase and Jackie share a lot of jokes together, which is how they grew closer. Jackie often uses his optimism to cheer Chase up when he's feeling low.

Jackie can actually be one of the most serious Egos when he needs to be (though Schneep will always hold first place on that front). He knows when to joke and when to be focused, and is often seen as the leader of the household because of his commanding presence when he's serious

Jackie and Jameson often work out together. Jameson is almost as physically fit as Jackie is, because in his time he did all his own stunts. He may not do them anymore, but he didn't want to stop exercising regularly, and knowing Jackie often worked out he went to him for advice on keeping a good regimen.

During the day, when he's not researching, Jackie is more often than not checking in on Schneep and making sure he's doing alright. He feels the need to he Schneep's protector, just as Marvin does with Chase. Especially after his kidnapping, Jackie wants to keep Schneep safe. He's usually there to ground him during flashbacks and panic attacks. The two are rather close and spend quite a bit of time with each other talking about work or venting general frustrations. Jackie's optimism and general bubbliness counteracts Schneep's serious attitude, and while Schneep reminds Jackie when to be serious, Jackie reminds Schneep when to loosen up.

Jackie loves movies, but sadly doesn't have a whole lot of time to watch them. He also adores retro video games, but agrees the modern ones are super cool, too. His favorite game is easily guessed.

Jackie's favorite superhero, like Jack's, is Spiderman. He sees a lot of himself in Spiderman, and on the days he doesn't go on patrols or research he's often seen playing the most recent Spiderman game on the PS4. He wants to 100% complete it.

Jackie doesn't rely on coffee as nearly as much as Schneep does, but he does drink a cup to help wake himself up in the mornings. He drinks his with a bit of cream, that's it.

Jackie can easily lift the others. Sometimes he'll sneak up on someone and lift them up, carrying them in his arms and spinning them around while laughing.

Jackie is a HUGE cuddler, and has a very tight hold. He's also a heavy sleeper, so if he falls asleep, good luck getting back up! He's always the big spoon

Most of his research is dedicated to tracking down Antisepticeye. He has Marvin help with this, since Marvin has more knowledge on demons than he does. However, Schneep, Chase, and Jameson also all have had direct contact with Antisepticeye and offer up any information they gathered. They all work together as a team to gather knowledge and keep track of common traits, symptoms, and telltale signs that Anti is active. Jackie also relies on the community and Jack's channel for information, since the community finds things first. This information is given through Chase. Jameson has only been in contact with Anti once, but his knowledge that he gained in his experience is also helpful to Jackie and isn't overlooked.

Jackie doesn't get sick often, but when he does he gets hit hard. Schneep is the one who takes care of everyone when they get sick, so every time Jackie comes down with something he gets all sappy and thanks Schneep for being a doctor and helping them. When he's sick, he's an emotional mess, but he does mean everything he says.

Jackie never makes a promise he can't keep, but he also never breaks his promises either. He's probably the most dependable out of everyone

I think that's everything for Jackie! The headache hasn't gone away so if I felt I missed something I'll probably add it in a seperate post. Same with any of the Egos, actually. If I need to add something I'll just make a continuation post and add it there. In any case, there's one more Ego to go! After that I'll clean out my inbox, though because I'm currently feeling shitty and moody I may not open prompts for a little bit, like a few days or so. But yeah, that's Jackie's list done!

#jacksepticeye #jackieboy man #septicego hc #septicego headcanon #vio stormcaller #long post

[femnet]

I don't like being touched. I've never liked being touched. I think holding hands is an inconvenience and I give hugs because it's easier than explaining why I'd prefer not to. I've always been this way, even when I was growing up and my friends ​made it their mission to kiss and grope and eventually sleep with whoever they could. I channeled my energy into other things: books, my music, art, schoolwork... anything I could touch that wouldn't touch me back. It's a control thing, as most of my defining characteristics are. I experienced periods of my life where I was completely helpless so in controlling who has access to my body, I'm taking control of my surroundings by claiming body sovereignty. It also helps me limit who I let in. Not being touched, even in the slightest, means everyone is always at an arm's length - literally.

I used to think I was a late bloomer. I'm emotionally repressed, so it would only make sense that I was sexually repressed too. I was busy anyway and I didn't care about having sex. Anytime I was sexually active in any way it felt pressured (it was) and I hated myself for each and every encounter so it made sense that I avoided it when I could. I chalked it up to my poor choice in men; at the time I figured I wasn't asexual but demisexual - I just needed to find someone that actually respected me to want to have sex with them. My journey with my sexuality (or lackthereof) was nothing but rationalizations. I did everything to make myself feel normal and dealt with my aversion to sex the way I deal with everything else: by overthinking. Besides, anxiety and depression medications often cause your libido to drop so all of this felt medically normal anyway. Some days my mental health was so poor my only goal was to make it out of bed in the morning and back in bed at night. Life was about going through the motions, so something as frivolous as sex seemed silly to even consider. I rationalized this for years and years, questioning my sexuality and hating myself because I didn't crave the one thing every other person seemed to. Because as I grew up things like gender identity and sexuality were spoken of freely. Being asexual is recognized and acknowledged. Being sexually averse, still is not.

I talk about everything with my therapist. Everything. More than I've ever told any other human in existence. But we don't talk about sex. At least, we don't talk about me and sex. That's the thing with being sex-averse, it's not about hating sex. It's about hating the sex I have or don't have. It's about hating all physical forms of intimacy that involve myself. Oddly enough I'm actually extremely open about sex itself. Ask any of my friends and they will tell you how frank I am about everything from protection to positions to the actual physical anatomy involved. Writing this I am not bothered in the least. All of the sex I'm discussing is hypothetical. It is not my sex, it is just sex. Because again, being sex-averse goes back to control, or lackthereof. All the sex the world has or does not have rarely affects how much control I have over myself and my surroundings. Someone else’s nakedness does not make me vulnerable.

So what happens when I have sex or even try to be intimate with someone? Well, I don’t. Not anymore. But when I was young and used to think I didn’t have a choice? It’s a bit like a panic attack. I say “like” because I have panic attacks often and for some reason the ones I have related to my sex-aversion are always a bit different. When I’m having a standard panic attack there’s a lot of heaving and deep sighs because I’m trying to catch my breath. When I’m having a panic attack because I’m in a sexual situation or even thinking of a sexual situation in which I am involved (yes, this happens when I just think about sexual intimacy) there is no catching my breath - I just feel like I’m being choked and I can’t recover. It feels like all of the oxygen has escaped my lungs and there is no hope of it coming back. My chest feels tight and my face feels warm and usually I cry in the way that clouds your vision but does not stain your cheeks. It’s a lot of internal pressure and it’s there until I can distract myself from the sexual situation long enough to fixate on something else. Then, when the sense of panic is gone and I can breathe again, all that’s left is the self-loathing. I’m unsure of what causes it: the perfectionist in me upset over having a panic attack or the sense of dread that’s leftover from whatever thoughts caused the anxiety in the first place.

The way I experience sexual aversion is not the way everyone will. It is similar to phobias and anxieties in that we all process them differently. Sexual aversion is often caused by childhood sexual abuse (or other similar traumatic events of the sexual nature) but not always. I don’t know what caused mine, meaning for me it’s particularly brutal to unpack. For some people the sexual aversion only happens with one partner, whereas for others (like myself) it is with everyone. For some people it is parts of sex they are averse to and for others they avoid any forms of the act altogether.

For some people it is temporary. For other people, like myself, it feels like it’ll last forever. A lot of it, I believe, comes down to how it’s viewed. Is sexual aversion a disorder or an identity? Can you successfully live in a world where sex and human intimacy seems to dictate everything around you? Can you ever really connect with someone if you don’t give yourself to them in these ways? These are absolutely thoughts that plague asexuals as well but with sexual aversion it’s a bit different. It’s not that I don’t want to have sex it’s that I’d legitimately rather die than let anyone touch me in that way. Identity is about self-governance and freedom but my sexual aversion feels like a prison sometimes, so maybe it is a disorder. Then comes the anxiety over being so inherently different from almost all humans at their core and this idea that the only way to fix this is to confront the very thing that makes me hate myself more than I ever have before.

It goes without saying that dating is difficult. I’m emotionally stunted too, so that helps in keeping any potential partners away anyway, but even if I did find someone I could let in, the conversation (like the one I’m having with you, the reader, now) is an odd one. The concept of not only not wanting to have sex but hating the very idea is so hard for people to grasp. For some people it’s like saying you’re against breathing. How do you live without it? As if I’m less of a person for not partaking. As if I didn’t feel bad enough about it already…

I know I’m not alone or at least that’s what I tell myself. When I initially identified as asexual I used to feel the same way but thankfully we live in an age where such a thing can be shared and embraced. Sexual aversion hasn’t quite caught on. A lot of it is where it is rooted (read: shame, usually) but also because it is so incredibly hard to discuss. For me, most days, it is impossible. It’s difficult to conquer a fear when you can’t even think about it.

If you know someone who is sex averse it may be best to leave it alone. Give them time to open up to you about it. Questions are often triggering and living in such a sex-obsessed world is hard enough without extra pressure from friends and family, i.e. the people who are meant to make you feel safe. Like anything, it’s about respect. We know that the society tells us sex is everything but for us it’s not. It’s okay if you don’t fully understand it - I can’t speak for everyone, but most days I don’t either.

#by elizabeth #sexuality #real life #adult life #love and sexuality #march 2019

[unwise-augur]

These things that you’re after, they can't be controlled- Mack

The Labyrinth Chapter 2

Author’s Note: Mack’s turn for a backstory!! I’ll be honest, I’m a lot happier with this one than I am with Althea’s chapter. Also,,, here’s a meme that suddenly occurred to me a few minutes before posting this

Althea: I’m going to the tavern, you want anything?

Mack: I want my father figure and my memories back.

Althea: Yeah… I got like 12 gold.

Ramas and Arizima Fezim, the lord and lady of a small town by the sea, loved their son, Marcel, as much as humanly possible. And they were overjoyed to discover that Arizima was pregnant with a second child. Lovingly, they picked out the name Mack, for Arizima’s grandparent, and then, seven months later, far too early, the child was born.

Marcel had been a remarkably easy birth, but Mack, on the other hand, took almost the entire night, and even then, was too little, too sickly. The doctor told Lord and Lady Fezim that Mack most likely wouldn’t survive the week.

The couple refused to believe such a claim, and Ramas started looking for alternatives. He tore through tome upon tome, from books on healing spells, to ancient religious texts. Until finally, he found it. Something that could work.

The ritual was simple, far too simple, if you asked him. One salt circle, and a bit of blood later, time spluttered to a standstill, and color drained from the library around him. The only things in the room that wasn’t grayscale, were him and the fiend. The one that he had summoned.

They looked a little startled, like maybe he had summoned them while they were in the middle of drinking their morning coffee. Did fiends drink coffee? Ramas turned his thoughts away before he went down that tangent. “My newborn child is sick. Very sick. The doctors don’t expect them to last the week. Please,” he said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Save them.”

The fiend nodded after a brief moment of contemplation, and in a deep rumbling voice, they said, “That is simple. But there is a side-effect. A ‘catch’, if you will.”

“Yes?” Ramas responded. He was desperate, he’d probably agree to just about anything.

“The child, Mack, correct? The only way I can save them is if they have fiendish blood running through their veins. That is easy, one of the deals things a fiend learns how to make. But your child will have to grow up a tiefling.”

“Deal,” Ramas said, holding out his hand. “As long as they survive.”

“Of course,” they responded, shaking his hand.

In an instant, the fiend was gone, color had returned to the world, and Ramas felt a great weight lifted from his shoulders.

True to the demon’s words, Mack recovered quickly (Miraculously, the doctor had told the Lord and Lady), and soon after, patches of their skin took on a reddish tint, and they grew a tail and pair of horns. The Fezims hadn’t minded one bit, as long as Mack was alive.

Six years later, Mack was going to school with all the other children. All the other human children, who had stared at Mack open-mouthed when they stepped into class on the first day. No one wanted to talk to them, so Mack didn’t even try. They did their schoolwork, they never caused trouble. They sat at the back of the class, and earned average grades (Their parents expected them to excel, they could tell. But they were trying their best. But their best must not have been good enough.)

Mack took quickly to reading, though. Everyone had seemed to think that Mack was far too active to sit down for long periods of time and read, judging by the way they were constantly fidgeting with pens, tapping their fingers on their desk, curling and uncurling their tail. But when they first started a fiction book, out of boredom during free time in class one day, they just… didn’t stop.

They loved the adventure, the betrayal, the epic fights, and the valiant heroes. They wanted to be like that someday. The one who saved the world, alongside their band of companions gathered throughout the story.

They specifically remembered one night at dinner, when they were about nine, after they had finished a particularly good book, and they said to Mama “When I’m old enough, I’m going to learn how to fight. I’m going to be an adventurer.”

Mama and Papa exchanged glances, before Mama said in that quiet, I-know-what’s-best voice that she used when Marcel thought he was too old to have a bedtime (he wasn’t, Mack thought privately. He was only two years older than them), “Honey, being an adventurer is an extremely dangerous job. I imagine you’d much prefer to stay at home and help take care of the village.”

Mack had considered their words for a brief moment, remembering all the characters that had died in the books they’d read. But then they remembered the ones who saved the trapped princesses, the ones who slayed the dragons, the ones who overthrew the diabolical kings, who toppled the evil empires. “No. I’m going to be an adventurer.”

Marcel had grinned at them, “What would you use to fight?” he asked.

“Sword,” they answered immediately. All the best heroes used swords, whether they be scimitars, greatswords, broadswords. They’d figure out the exact kind later.

“Are you gonna have an adventuring party?” he said excitedly.

Mack considered the question for a moment. They weren’t very personable, and no one really liked talking to them (it had something to do with their horns, apparently? Just like that one tiefling in a book they’d read that one of the other main characters hadn’t trusted, because they had red skin and a tail). “One or two,” they said slowly.

Papa sighed. “Kids, that’s enough. We aren’t talking about this right now. You’re too young to be deciding your futures.”

But it was too late, Mack had already decided. They never discussed their plans, it made Mama and Papa uneasy, but they were figuring their future out, piece by piece. They’d need a mentor, someone to teach them how to fight (preferably one that didn’t mysteriously disappear, get kidnapped, or killed for plot purposes, but they’d take what they could get). Then they’d need a suitable reason to leave the village searching for adventure, other than pure wanderlust. And after that, they’d need an adventuring companion or two.

Things started falling into place when they were around fourteen. Marcel had walked into the library an hour or two before sunset, and perched himself across from them on the bay window seat, as usual.

“How’s your book?” Marcel asked, like he always did.

“Good,” Mack responded. “How was your day?”

“Good,” he smiled at them. The siblings settled into a companionable silence for a few moments, before Marcel said. “You know how someone moved into that house near the forest, at the very edge of the village?”

Mack nodded. Marcel had been talking about that almost nonstop a week ago, talking about how he had never gotten a glimpse at the new villager. He had said that he was curious to see whether or not they were Mulan, like most of the people in town. Like the Fezims.

“Turns out he’s not Mulan. Or even human for that matter! He’s a tiefling, like you.”

Mack almost dropped their book. They had never met another tiefling, and there were so few books with tiefling as characters, let alone as the protagonists. “Seriously? Did you introduce yourself? Can you introduce me?”

Marcel gave them that grin, the one that gave off the distinct vibe that he has happy because other people were happy. “His name is Creed, and he knows how to swordfight. I know because we saw him practicing in the garden, and then I asked him.”

Mack felt like this was the very beginning of their story. The sheltered merchant’s daughter running away from home for a big, unfamiliar city like she’d always dreamed. The elf boy finally getting the chance to join the war like his father before him. The dragonborn cleric being sent on their first holy quest by their god. The poor boy who had always wanted to be an author hearing that the town’s most well-respected scribe was looking for an apprentice.

“Take me there tomorrow. Don’t tell Mama and Papa. I’m not sure they’d approve of me learning to fight,” they said with a slightly uncomfortable laugh.

Marcel mimed zipping his lips, locking them tight, and throwing away the key. “Tomorrow, you learn how to become an adventurer.”

The next morning, the Fezim siblings wandered near the edge of town, where the pleasantly warm sand gave way to soft earth. Nestled at the very front of the forest, was a small, one-room house, with pale wooden walls, and a mahogany door, that Marcel knocked on boldly.

After a moment, a tiefling man with horns like an addax opened the door. “Oh, nice to see you again, Marcel,” he said, giving him a small smile. Then he saw Mack, who hated to admit that they were practically hiding behind their brother. They didn’t function well around strangers, even if those strangers were the ones who could help them achieve their wildest dreams. “Who’s this?” he asked, and Mack could tell he was struggling to keep the surprise he was feeling off his face and out of his voice. “And here I was thinking I was the first tiefling in town.”

“I’m Mack,” they said, taking a deep breath. “My brother says you can swordfight? Can you teach me?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. He gestured for the two of them to come inside, and they took a seat at the table in his kitchen. Everything in his house radiated coziness, from the small table with a seemingly hand-embroidered tablecloth, to the earthy color palette of the room. “Is Marcel your brother?” Creed asked Mack

“Yes,” them and their brother chorused. The two of them exchanged glances, pleasantly surprised. They thought they looked plenty alike, they both had Mama’s hazel eyes, and Papa’s curly, dark brown hair, but for some reason, (“That certainly has nothing to do with someone having a tail and a pair of horns,” Mack would remark sarcastically whenever their parents or brother brought up the topic), no one ever made the connection.

“Your parents both human?” he asked, and Mack wasn’t sure if that was pity in his eyes or not. They weren’t sure if they wanted it to be, either.

“Yes.”

“You must not know Infernal then, either, do you?”

Mack shook their head. “I could never find a book on it.”

“Then I’ll teach you. It’s important for us tieflings to pass on our knowledge from one generation to the next, when there are so few of us out there,” Creed said sadly.

“But you’re still teaching me swordfighting?” they prompted. As much as learning Infernal, or whatever number of tiefling secrets Creed had to teach, excited them, they hadn’t forgotten why they were here.

Creed nodded. “We start tomorrow. Will I need to speak with your parents about any of this?”

Mack shook their head quickly. “They, uh… aren’t too fond of me learning how to fight, or being an adventurer, for that matter.”

He laughed. “I doubt they could stop you.”

Marcel gave the other two a big grin, “I couldn’t agree more. One day, Mack is gonna save the world. Maybe they’ll find out why people are Disappearing!”

Mack trained under Creed for the next five years, learning how to fight, speak, read, and write Infernal, and a million other things about being a tiefling Mack had never learned before. He also taught them more mundane things, like how to cook, or how to sew, stuff that their parents supposedly never had time to teach them. Really, Creed had almost become a second father to Mack, and they wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

Of course, that was when things fell apart. The two of them had wandered a little ways into the woods, into their normal training area, that day. Mack was leaning heavily against a tree, trying to catch their breath after a sparring session, when something caught their eye.

It was the mouth of a tunnel, one that they could’ve sworn hadn’t been there before. “Where does this go?” they called out to him.

Creed came to stand beside the younger tiefling. “I don’t recognize it. So, no clue.”

Mack gripped their sword, and began marching forwards. “Well, there’s only one way to find out!”

He smiled, and jogged to catch up with them.

And then that’s where Mack’s memory fizzled out. All they remembered were bits and flashes. Fighting for their life. A cheesy joke they couldn’t remember the setup for. Someone shouting. A jagged scar across the back of their hand they didn’t recollect having before.

The next thing they knew, they were on their hands and knees outside the tunnel, gasping for breath, with their sword on the ground in front of them. They were bleeding from multiple places, their back, their calf, and their cheek, and they were covered in bruises and scrapes. They thought their rib might’ve been bruised.

But none of it added up to the weight that settled across Mack’s shoulders like a cape. They… they failed someone. Someone important.

And then they realized that they were alone. They had entered the tunnel with Creed, hadn’t they? Where was he? How long had they been gone?

“Creed?” they called out. Their voice sounded hoarse, like they had been screaming. There was no reply. “Anyone?” they tried again.

The only answer was leaves rustling in the breeze, so Mack struggled to their feet. The walk was usually only five minutes back to Creed’s house, then about two more minutes back to the village, but each step felt like a mile to Mack.

When finally, finally, they trudged back into the village, the reaction was immediate. Villagers who had previously been going about their day like normal gasped, and stared at them. “Go get Lord and Lady Fezim,” one woman said to another. “They’ll want to see this.”

After the shock had worn off, people began to crowd around Mack, saying things like “We were so worried!” and “We thought you had died!”

Mack took an uneasy step back. “I… I don’t know what’s happening, or how long I’ve been gone. Please, I’d just like to get back to my house.”

The villagers parted quickly, leaving Mack to stumble home, past the little shoreside houses and shops, until they finally reached the Fezim manor, standing tall and proud next to the village library.

Mack reached the door just as the woman from town was scurrying away. Arizima and Ramas were crying, and Marcel had his arms wrapped around both of his parents’ shoulders.

The second he caught sight of them, Marcel tackled Mack with a hug that almost knocked them over, and Arizima and Ramas weren’t far behind.

“How… how long have I been gone?” Mack asked uneasily as their family finally let them go. They didn’t remember much of anything, but they felt it in their gut that they had been gone longer than a day.

“A year and two months,” Marcel responded immediately, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve.

Mack almost collapsed then and there. “Gods.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, dear,” Arizima said after a moment, taking Mack’s arm and leading them into the living room, while Ramas went to grab some bandages and other supplies. No one seemed to care that Mack was bleeding all over everything.

Once Ramas returned with the proper medical supplies, Mack was bombarded with questions, none of which Mack could answer until finally, Arizima asked, “Where did you get that jacket?”

“Wha-?” Mack finally noticed the tattered, brown jacket they were wearing. On the front were a bunch of tiny patches, all with different designs. On the back, was a design that had almost completely been worn away and torn off, and some near illegible writing beneath it. “I don't… I don’t know. But it feels… important,” Mack explained. It didn’t feel important in a “it has a secret pocket with a key that can open any lock inside it” way but more like it had been given to them by someone important. (Maybe it had to do with that heavy feeling of guilt weighing on their conscience.)

Later that night, they found their old sewing supplies, and repaired the jacket the best they could, sewing up the holes and tears, and washing out the bloodstains. It had taken almost as much as a beating as Mack had when they were wherever they had been for the past year.

Mack also took a moment to give the design on the back a closer inspection. They thought maybe it was a lyre, but it was hard to be sure, especially because there had been a large gash in the jacket running from their shoulders to the small of their back, that had taken out most of the design. (They had a scar to match.) Beneath the symbol, Mack thought they were able to decipher at least one of the words. “Team”.

When they read that, they felt something, like their brain was reaching out for a memory that just didn’t exist anymore. They hated that. Mack desperately wanted to know what had happened to them. To Creed. To that person they had failed, whoever they were. The need to know burned in their chest like a white-hot flame. And then and there, that’s when they decided.

They were going to leave and search for answers. They were going to find out why they had Disappeared. They were going to find Creed, and the one they had failed, their “Team”, and everyone else who had Disappeared. This was the elvish girl’s father getting kidnapped, the gnomish paladin getting chosen by their god, the hafling boy getting drafted for the war, the dwarven fighter finding out about the prophecy about her. This was Mack’s call to action.

And then two months later, they left in the dead of night, leaving a note explaining where they had gone. They didn’t want to say good-bye in person, their parents would try to stop them, or Marcel would try to go with them, and they had to do this. Alone. They were the one who had gotten Creed stuck in this mess. They were going to get him out, without getting anyone else roped into their desperate search for answers.

It took almost another year for them to find where they wanted to go. Lotus Ridge, over in the Open Expanse. It was a huge, bustling city, with one distinct similarity in almost all of its residents. They were searching for answers. Some even referred to Lotus Ridge as “The Town of the Lost and the Left Behind”. The second Mack heard about it, they knew that that city was where they were headed next.

They found the city within the month, and bought a small apartment in the city, and raised money doing odd jobs, until they had enough to start doing what really mattered, finding answers. They took up jobs as a private investigator of sorts, compiling all the information they could find on those who had Disappeared.

And then a few months after that, after cementing themself as one of the best detectives in town, one of the ones most likely to solve the mystery and bring back everyone that had Disappeared, Mack met their partner in crime.

The two of them met through one of their mutual clients, a human woman searching for her twin daughters. The client had insisted on introducing them to each other, claiming that they could find answers even faster if they worked together, seeing as they were already so close. Mack didn’t really see any downsides, and arranged the meeting to be at the office they had managed to buy below their apartment. Half an hour later than scheduled, a drow woman with long, silvery hair, and a crescent scar on her cheek, stepped through Mack’s door.

“I’m Althea, nice to meet you,” she said, dropping down into the chair across from them. “You’re Mack, right?”

Mack nodded, and shook her hand. They didn’t mention her lateness. “How did you get involved with the Disappearances?”

“My best friend Disappeared,” she answered easily, albeit a tad bit strained, and it sounded a bit like she’d rehearsed saying that. “How about you?”

“A close friend of mine and I Disappeared a while ago. I came back, obviously. He didn’t,” Mack answered, and the words only came out so smoothly because they had said them a million times by now.

Althea nodded sympathetically. “Well, uh, as for the investigation proper, I’ve been gathering all the evidence I could find,” she said, abruptly changing the subject. With a flourish, she pulled a small stack of paper out of her satchel (her flute almost fell out, but she caught it just in time), and spread them out on the table. They were mostly missing persons posters, along with handwritten notes, no doubt she had taken them while talking to clients. “No one ever remembers where they’ve been, correct? And the people just Disappear off the face of the planet so completely. It's… crazy.”

Mack nodded. “I did some research, and it’s only been happening for the past two hundred years or so, which is insane, because everyone knows someone who’s Disappeared.”

“I tried investigating exactly who Disappears, their gender, their race, their profession, even their sexual orientations, for the gods’ sake-” she laughed bitterly- “but there’s no pattern. I tried finding out what time of year people usually Disappear during. I haven’t found anything of worthwhile there, either.”

And so the duo continued, bouncing ideas, memories, and evidence they’d found, off of each other for the better part of an hour. And along the way, they began developing an unlikely friendship, and within the week, they had permanently teamed up for their investigations, and Althea had moved in with Mack.

One way or another, the two of them were going to find out why people Disappeared, and put a stop to it, once and for all.

#my writing #writing #original story #DnD #Dungeons and Dragons #The Labyrinth Campaign

[naomimakesart]

So these were some pieces I have done from my first semester at Academy of Art University in San Francisco. For mostly angsty venting about my experience, read below.

 In all honesty, I don’t think I’m going to go back. It was nothing like I expected it to be and I just don’t think it is the right fit for me. I really enjoyed getting to know my teachers and what wisdom they were able to pass on to me but I didn’t feel like it was worth the financial burden it has put on my family. 

 While attending the school was an incredible experience and really gave me a lot of insight into the world beyond what I am used to, I felt like it was really hard to feel happy about my opportunity to be there. In the end I felt a lot of pressure from my family and some of my friends to do something more with my talent because they were concerned I would never leave my hometown when I had potential to be more. I felt really guilty for taking out loans to try to pursue a degree in something that I can definitely admire but wasn’t entirely sure was suitable for me. I felt guilty that while I was living in San Francisco in moderate comfort, my family was at home struggling to help me get by and help themselves get by. 

My family and I have lived meagerly my entire life. The conditions we live in have always been pretty bad, but my parents and siblings were completely supportive of me and had hope for me. While I was so happy that they believed in me, I also felt like they’d be disappointed if I didn’t follow through with something I dreamt about doing for a while and had a lot of passion for. I have wanted to be an artist professionally for a long time now and I assumed that I would need to pursue a degree to make that a reality. I had already been in community college for 3 and a half years, and I was turning 22 in 6 months and I didn’t really have a plan for my future other that the fact that I wanted to be in Visual Development. I felt like I was in a really stagnant routine, and that my life wasn’t going in the direction I wanted to and I thought that by taking such a huge leap that things would change for the better.

While in San Francisco I learned a lot and was exposed to so much culture and diversity it was outstanding. The entire city was really breathtaking and after growing up in such a rural area it was an extreme shock to me. The layout of Academy of Art University is that their school buildings are located all over the city, and they don’t have one specific campus. I wasn’t fully aware of how much of a challenge this was going to be for me, because I signed up for classes last minute, and I should have probably done more research. While I was able to make friends in my classes, I was extremely anxious about doing anything other than my schoolwork and going straight back to my dorm/apartment because I was in an area of the city that was kind of sketchy and I was terrified of doing anything alone. I won’t go into details of what my campus living experience was like, but it was extremely stressful for me everyday because I didn’t get along with one of my roommates and I felt uncomfortable being in that space because she and I couldn’t get along.

Feeling so out of place isolated me so much and I depended a lot on trying to talk to my friends and family to cheer me up and for basic communication that I didn’t have when I wasn’t attending class. This was very unfair of me because my friends and family had a lot to deal with at home and it wasn’t their responsibility to make me feel happy when I was hundreds of miles away. I would get upset that I couldn’t make any friends and that I had no one to talk to and it wasn’t really anyone’s fault but my own for being so anxious about opening up with people, or reaching out to a friend from school. I felt like the ones I was closest to were forgetting me because I was out of sight, and so far away and I had a lot moments of absolute hopelessness. 

I tried to focus completely on my work and managed to pass my classes with good grades. It wasn’t easy for me coming from a community college that had lower standards, but I worked really hard and my teachers were satisfied with my skills. At the end of the semester however I had an accident in my dorm room that involved an ongoing issue I had with my roommate and I broke a bone in my foot and sprained my ankle, while also severely injuring my back. I had to leave two weeks early and was able to turn in the rest of my finals, but I have been recovering from my injuries for the last month. 

I would say the most disappointing part about this entire venture is that I’ve rarely been able to draw things for myself unless they are doodles in a sketchbook. Not having the time during the semester to draw, and not being well enough to draw now has been the hardest to endure. I was used to drawing every day and now I haven’t drawn anything consistently that I have been particularly proud of for almost 5 months. Even when I was taking classes in community college I was able to draw so much because I had so much time and so much more freedom and I am afraid of losing the joy I once felt for drawing if I continue on going to school. 

I am not entirely sure of what I am going to do at this point but I am going to take the time I need to continue healing and probably take a break from school in general. Whether or not I try to pursue a degree in the future is really up in the air right now and it’s something I’m not going to worry about. I don’t think I made a mistake by choosing to go, but I think it would be a mistake to continue to go now that I feel so opposed to it, just because I am afraid of disappointing my family. I have already discussed it with my family and some of my friends and they have been very understanding but are afraid that I will regret my decision to stay. I can’t say that I won’t regret it in some way because I don’t know what the future is going to bring but just because I choose not to continue a degree at an outrageously expensive school, it doesn’t mean that I’m not going to continue drawing or loving to create things. 

 I really hope I’ll be able to start posting more artwork in the future, but in case anyone wanted to know, I thought I’d try to explain my lack of activity going on. 

#school artwork #personal text #art school #i usually don't get very personal on tumblr but i really needed to vent about my experience #photoshop #self portrait #movie poster #backgrounds

[ignis-scientia-estrogen-brigade]

~(I still suck at titles sorry)~ [Pre-Road Trip Imagine; 1900 Words]

[ISEB Author’s Note: This headcanon occurred to me in the midst of working on several other fics I’ve promised to people, and would positively not be ignored until I’d written the words out on paper. In that regard, I apologize for interrupting my regularly scheduled Asks in favor of my own personal drabbles; my responses to your prompts will resume shortly.]

Considering he’s known Noctis longer than any of the other Chocobros, we know painfully little about Ignis Scientia’s life prior to the opening of Final Fantasy XV; I did happen to catch the strategist’s episode of Brotherhood, but even that source was scant on the details. So I thought I’d come up with my own little backstory of Specs, complete with insight into the nature and dynamic of his relationship to the crown prince; he’s not quite the BFF that Prompto is, nor is he precisely a mentor like Gladio, but the dialogue I encountered between Ignis and Noct throughout the game really cemented his status (in my mind) as arguably the most influential of the Crownsguard. I do hope you enjoy this imagining, and feel free to appropriate it into your own headcanon as you see fit!

On days when the weight of the world feels particularly heavy on his shoulders, and the distant memory of simpler times stirs within him old feelings of nostalgia, the strategist presses his fingers to the glass of a picture frame he keeps stored on a dusty bookshelf in his apartment. Other than the clothes on his back, the photograph was the only other personal effect he had brought with him on the road to Altissia all those years ago, and he had taken painstaking care not to lose it as he traveled from Insomnia to Nifleim and everywhere in between.

He can’t actually see the image, of course, but when he traces his fingertips along the smooth surface, Ignis is able to recall to mind in near-perfect detail the faces of the youths displayed within. Prompto Argentum, his feathery blond hair mimicking that of the domesticated chocobos he held so dear; Gladiolus Amicitia, when only one vertical scar adorned his face; and Noctis Lucis Caelem, his king, his majesty, his oldest friend, back before he was called upon by the Six to defeat the starscourge and was lost to the ages entirely.

It was never the intent of the Scientia family for Ignis to be groomed as a royal steward and counselor to the crown prince—at least, not at first. Noctis had lost his mother as an infant, and Regis had grown concerned with his young son’s increasingly introverted nature that he thought perhaps introducing him to a playmate near his own age might help to bring him out of his shell. The future strategist was an only child himself, and happened to have an uncle in direct service to the king, so a six-year-old Ignis was invited to spend a summer at the Citadel as glorified entertainment to a toddler.

He remembers Noct as a sweet boy; quiet and shy, but remarkably astute for his age. He had an active imagination, as evident by the numerous toys and building blocks he transformed into fantastical settings daily, and was eager to immerse himself in the fairytales of the books Ignis brought with him from the north, but only if his new companion would agree to do the reading for him. That was fine by Ignis; wooden swords and play fighting more rambunctious children tended to gravitate toward appealed little to his intellect, but he could spend hours with his nose buried in the pages of his favorite stories and never get bored in the slightest.

And so those hours turned into days, and the days eventually stretched out into weeks; when the weather was favorable, the two often sat out under a tree just beyond the palace inventing their own fables, until the late afternoon gave way to early twilight. If a squall happened to pass over the crown city, they were content to barricade themselves beneath a blanket fort and pretend to be the reigning king of Lucis and his most loyal Kingsglaive. The timid child he had met at the onset of their accord gave way to a much more articulate character, and although Ignis could’ve sworn the summer had just begun—the mind plays tricks on a memory—his time at the Citadel was soon over, and he received word that his parents were on their way to fetch their only son.

But his parents never made it to Crown City, because their vehicle was found mangled beyond all recognition on the road leading to Insomnia, its passengers deceased long before emergency assistance could be provided. Some said it was simply a misfortunate but commonly occurring automobile accident; others whispered that since the wreck was discovered outside the safety of the city’s walls, perhaps a daemon—rare as they were east of Leide—might’ve been to blame for the catastrophe. Regardless of the true factors at play, Ignis suddenly found himself orphaned and alone, the prospects of his future uncertain.

The strategist takes pride in remembering the important milestones of his life, but admittedly that particular period remains rather hazy in his mind. It was, however, the only time he can recall ever openly weeping in front of Noctis; Ignis’ elated smiles while celebrating the prince’s fourth birthday not a week prior turned to tears of sorrow on his face in an instant. “It’ll be okay,” Noct had said to him, not older than a babe himself. “My mom died, too.”

Something changed within Ignis that day; he began to compartmentalize the more whimsical facets of his personality, his newfound stoicism shaping the seriousness that eventually defined his mannerism as an adult. Regis must have taken note of his abrupt shift in priorities—in addition to the positive influence the younger Scientia had over his son—because he proposed the opportunity to turn his tragedy into prosperity by offering to appoint Ignis as personal advisor to the heir apparent.

In hindsight, the idea of pledging his service to the crown was an awfully weighty decision to impart onto the shoulders of a juvenile, and the strategist isn’t quite sure if he was the lifelong companion Noctis even wanted. But he was almost certainly the one the prince needed, and the fate of his own parents was regrettably out of his hands, so he mitigated his grief by focusing his attention on the few variables he could control; charming as he was, Noct could be downright insolent when forced into doing something he didn’t want to do—eating his vegetables was a particular source of disagreement—and it seemed like only Ignis could hold fast against his stubbornness at times.

As the years passed, and he grew more accustomed to life at the Citadel, Ignis found himself in the role of not only counterpart and tutor to the heir of Lucis, but also custodian and sometime surrogate parent. Regis’ duty to his people kept him away from his son more often than not, and few others within the palace knew how to distract the prince from his separation anxiety toward his absentee father long enough for his tears to dry; learning to bake was a rather menial task for someone of Ignis’ shrewd acumen, but the cupcakes he managed not to burn put a smile on Noct’s face nonetheless.

As is to be expected, the experiences one is exposed to in life inevitably changes them; Noctis spent several months recovering in Tenebrae after an unfortunate encounter with a daemon, and upon his return the strategist noticed the beginnings of a brooding melancholy that would later be the prince’s most distinguishing facet. Ignis himself was fielding his own growing pains, as he found that the longing to reach out with empathy to his friend was in direct conflict with the sternness necessary to become an effective advisor. The hours they spent together as children reading fairytales and fables now comprised mostly of pouring over schoolwork and textbooks—the very last thing that appealed to Noct when his mind was on a place and a girl thousands of miles away—and the prince’s growing ennui toward his royal status and the palace at large only served to loosen the ties that once bound them so closely.

Perhaps there is simply something about living in close quarters with a person day in and day out for many years that results in one inevitably taking the other for granted; Noctis was as near and dear to Ignis as a brother, yet at times it felt they were as far apart as strangers. It didn’t help that the strategist’s well-intentioned but admittedly persistent prodding seemed only to drive the prince further away from him and into the company of newer, less authoritative friends; Ignis surmises that it made sense for Noct to want to surround himself with the likes of Prompto and Gladio, who were arguably more fun to be around than the stuffy royal chamberlain.

But the strategist had a job to do, and Regis had personally entrusted him with the responsibility of keeping close watch over his son in his absence, so he did what he could to stifle the growing tension between himself and his boyhood friend. Attempts at recreating the pastry the prince remembered fondly while recuperating in Tenebrae failed miserably; offering to transport Noct and an unworldly Prompto in the king’s Regalia to tour the city only resulted in him being left behind in the driver’s seat; Ignis even went so far as to enlist the services of Gladio to help him become better versed in the art of warfare—much as his intellect resisted the notion of taking up arms—in the interest of keeping up with Noctis’ budding magical prowess, but his efforts at proving the value of his assets fell on deaf ears.

There comes a time in every man’s life, the strategist concedes, that words inevitably fail and the only course of action when resolving a dilemma is to confront it with steel. Noct’s prickliness toward him had reached a tipping point, the viability of their friendship dangling by a quickly fraying thread, and he’d grown weary of the prince’s blatant disregard toward his father and royal responsibilities when he skipped out on numerous council meetings and trashed his apartment mere hours after Ignis had cleaned it. The moment of reckoning: midnight; the place: a sparring mat located inside the Citadel; the means: two identical sets of daggers.

Noct’s skills with a pair of crossblades was impressive for a sixteen-year-old, but if he’d been paying closer attention to the number of hours his royal steward was clocking in at the palace’s fitness center and not squandered his afternoons wading after elusive Lucian carp, he would have recognized the perfected reverse grip in the strategist’s hands. Still, the bout lasted longer than Ignis would’ve given credit for; by the end of it, the two teenagers were battered and bruised and drenched in their own sweat, the acrimony between them slowly ebbing as the airing of their mutual grievances lingered in both their ears.

Noct continued to trash his apartment at times in the aftermath of their row, and the pastries Ignis baked for him never did quite measure up to snuff, but the grudging sense of respect the strategist had garnered from the prince that night was undeniable. And as that esteem took firm hold, their original fondness for one another resumed; his old friend still chided him for his stuffiness, but his teasing was now laced with affection rather than animosity. Gladio and Prompto’s presence helped to fill in the gaps of the dynamic the strategist was unable to provide in its entirety, and a brotherhood was forged between the four men that would last a lifetime.

At least, one of their lifetimes. Because when the long night had descended upon Eos an eternity ago, a sacrifice was required from the gods in order for the sun to rise again; as he returns the photograph to its proper place on the dusty shelf in his apartment, Ignis remembers the blissful ignorance of his youth, remembers the faces of his companions when he still had the use of his eyes, remembers when the brotherhood had fractured and splintered and then resurrected itself like a phoenix in the ashes of eternal darkness. And he remembers the last words he had said to Noctis Lucis Caelem, his king, his majesty, his oldest friend, and wonders whether Noct ever knew the true depths of the strategist’s devotion.

As he blinks back the sudden welling in his occluded eye, Ignis whispers, “I should like to think that he did.”

#final fantasy xv #ignis #ignis scientia #ffxv headcanons #ffxv imagines #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv #ff15 #ignis stupeo scientia

[newstfionline]

I gave up TV, then qualified for Olympic marathon trials and got my PhD

By Teal Burrell, Washington Post, March 25, 2017

There’s a scene in “Friends” where Ross’s colleague admits she doesn’t have a television. Incredulous, Joey asks, “You don’t own a TV? What’s all your furniture pointed at?”

Americans are obsessed with television, spending an average of five hours a day pointing ourselves at it even as we complain we’re busier than ever. It rules our lives, whether we admit it or not. A friend of mine claims to not watch much TV, but whenever I visit her--morning, noon or night--it’s on. After my husband admitted we hadn’t watched any while on vacation, a family member was floored: “A whole week without TV?” And when I showed off my new house, visitors were most excited about the cable outlet on the back porch; now I can even point my outdoor furniture at a TV.

But for all the time we spend with it, TV doesn’t repay us very nicely. People who watch more television are generally unhappier, heavier and worse sleepers, and have a higher risk of death over a defined length of time.

Studies have found links between children and teenagers who watch a lot of TV and worse attention spans, lower grades and structural differences in brain regions associated with intelligence. One study found that people in their 20s and 30s who watched at least three hours of TV a day did worse on tests of cognitive focus and speed when they reached their 40s and 50s than those who had watched less TV as young adults.

A few years ago, I realized--despite feeling constantly frazzled and busy--that I wasted hours clicking through shows I barely liked or bingeing on series I’d already seen. I had big aspirations for the near future--I wanted to defend my PhD thesis, launch a freelance writing career and qualify for the Olympic trials in the marathon--but they seemed overwhelming, things I had been working at for years.

I needed more time to read, research, write, run and rest. What if I gave up TV ... for an entire year?

Despite a lifetime of failed New Year’s resolutions, I started on Jan. 1, 2014. On the second day, I found myself in a bar discussing the latest shows. Already, talking TV felt wrong, as though I were a recovering addict walking by an old supplier’s place. But not wanting to seem like a pretentious ascetic, I didn’t mention my resolution.

In fact, for the rest of the year, I told few people what I was doing. It became an experiment: Would anyone notice? Do we need to watch television to be social?

But banning TV didn’t seem to affect my social life. Water-cooler discussions don’t revolve around the previous night’s must-see TV as they once did; streaming means not everyone is watching the same episode or even the same season. I could just say I hadn’t gotten to that episode and no one thought twice about it. The only times I felt I was missing out were retellings of late-night talk-show jokes. I figured I’d watch some programs I missed when the year ended, but reruns of “The Daily Show” would just be dated.

Almost immediately I noticed I was enjoying my weeknights more. I didn’t automatically collapse on the couch only to look up hours later, surprised so much time had passed. My husband, while supportive of my mission, wasn’t particularly eager to adopt the same resolution. He agreed to wear headphones while he watched TV (mostly sports, which I didn’t find particularly tempting anyway), so some nights would find us both on the couch--me reading and turned away from the TV, him silently cheering on the Nationals/Redskins/Wizards. Sans TV, evenings seemed longer: I got more chores or work done, spent time piddling on the Internet or read. And I actually got to bed on time.

But in March, not quite three months into my effort and exhausted from running a half marathon and battling a cold, I nearly caved. All I wanted to do was spend an entire Sunday lying on the couch and resting, but I couldn’t plop down in front of some mindless TV.

Surely there’s some good to television, as stress relief or to give our brains a break, isn’t there?

“That’s one of the most debated questions in television studies in the last 40 years,” says Michael Grabowski, a media studies researcher at Manhattan College and editor of “Neuroscience and Media: New Understandings and Representations.” “Does television help us be more relaxed and is it kind of a cathartic experience, or does television feed into addiction and make us more anxious?”

Studies seem mixed depending on the genre, but TV can color how we see the world.

“The more television we watch, the more it influences our understanding of the real world and how it operates,” says Grabowski, citing a theory originally developed by communications researcher George Gerbner. One aspect of this well-established cultivation theory states that if we watch programs with lots of violence, we think of the world as a more violent place--not exactly an anxiety-reducing perspective. Watching “Law and Order: SVU” is hardly a way to make you sleep better. But comedies comfortably reinforce social rules, Grabowski says: The guy with the harebrained scheme usually gets his comeuppance. A small study found that comedies may also decrease levels of stress hormones in the blood, while another found that laughing may increase endorphins.

But more research needs to be done, as better understanding of the neurochemistry of TV watching might shed light on whether it’s habit-forming. Although “there’s no consensus on [TV watching] being an addictive behavior,” says psychologist Steve Sussman, who has written a textbook on addictions. Based on the available research, he says, “I think TV addiction is probably the first addiction that people experience in life.”

People can become preoccupied with television, spending more time watching it than they intended to despite negative consequences on their relationships, schoolwork, happiness and health.

And, as with taking an addictive drug, consuming more TV may leave us worse off. One study found that people who binge-watched TV (defined as watching two or more episodes in one sitting) reported more depression and loneliness than those who didn’t binge.

Despite my unhappiness on that TV-less sick day, I stuck with my resolution and, in early spring, I completed my PhD. One major accomplishment down.

I was feeling proud until I realized I had started to transfer my TV time to Twitter and Facebook. How was that better?

As an aspiring writer, I had hoped to spend my extra hours reading. I doubled my efforts, but the desire to shut off my brain again nagged at me. Reading fiction and watching a fictional show seem similar, but television fills in more of the blanks. “With a novel, we get to participate in imagination of what these characters look like or what the settings feel like,” Grabowski says. Sometimes that felt too exhausting, and I missed having the TV do the work.

In August, my sister invited my cousin and me to a friend’s beach house. Soon after we arrived, my cousin discovered the TV was broken, and she wasn’t happy about it. But my sister was relieved, glad to be free from TV for a few days. We spent the days at the beach and the evenings talking, TV-free.

Not long after, as the new fall shows debuted, I remained blissfully unaware; without commercials, the previews weren’t drilled into my head. Neither were endless plugs for fast food and mouthwatering snacks. I wondered if I’d achieved a better diet by not being tempted by manipulative commercials or fast-paced shows, which some research suggests can increase distracted eating. I wasn’t sure: I had lost weight, but I also was training to run a marathon. Either way, I certainly didn’t miss commercials.

Did I miss any of it? As the year neared its end, my husband said he doubted I’d tune back in. I agreed.

In December of 2014, I ran my fastest marathon ever, qualifying for the 2016 U.S. Olympic Trials and accomplishing all of my TV-free-year goals: I defended my thesis, started a writing career and made it to the trials. In my newly discovered spare time, I also read 35 books, a personal record. Could I have done all that without giving up TV?

Maybe, but I’m doubtful. Regardless, I decidedly kicked my addiction. (And my husband also admitted he watched less over the year.)

Two years later, I haven’t stayed entirely away from TV. But now I watch only a few shows, with intention. I discovered TV is better in small doses, not turned on instinctively to channel-surf or to fill the silence.

A few days into 2015, proud of the only resolution I’d ever kept, I told a friend what I’d done. She laughed it off and said it was easy: She’d just watch Hulu.

#television #Teal Burrell #giving up television