That-quote-had-to-be-used

Words: 1383

Trigger warnings(?) : Mental health problems, brain injury (speech impediments, deteriorating mobility - not anxiety/depression)

It was all too good to be true. Stan knew it was far too optimistic to believe that his brother would have no lasting effects of the electrical torture Bill put him through. For the first few days after Weirdmageddon, as Stan was recovering his memories, Ford had seemed fine. Sure, he seemed to keep passing out at random moments and forgetting things nearly as much as Stan himself, but Stan chalked the sleep down to exhaustion. He doubted that Ford had had a moment’s rest while in Bill’s clutches. He didn’t think much of it when Ford fell asleep face-down into his lunch one day.

It was only after a week that things started getting scary. The twins had gone home and hadn’t picked up on Ford’s strange behaviour. Stan had, though. Before Weirdmageddon, Ford always walked with a slight spring in his step, always confident, a man on a mission. Now, Ford walked almost bow-legged. He barely bent his knees and his legs were too far apart. He seemed to stumble and trip a lot, too. Stan had been startled one evening to find Ford lying face-down on the carpet, struggling to get back up. He didn’t seem to be able to hold a pen without dropping it, either.

It wasn’t just his walk or his movements that were weird. Ford always talked very articulately, enunciating his words quickly and precisely, as if he had swallowed a dictionary. Now, he stuttered and stumbled over his words, struggling to speak. His eyes were always unfocused and Stan was downright worried when he noticed them darting back and forth across the room at a dizzyingly fast pace. Ford didn’t seem to be able to say a simple sentence without struggling to speak, as if he were a young child learning to read for the first time.

It was when these symptoms started showing up that Stan really got concerned. He knew there was something wrong with his brother, but he had no idea what. Well, he knew what was wrong with him, he just didn’t know why. As the days passed, Ford’s symptoms only grew worse and worse until he was barely able to say his own name without pausing and thinking, before slowly letting the word roll off his tongue.

Stan decided to do some digging. He borrowed almost every available book on neurology, psychology, medicine and the human brain that he could find. He spent hours upon hours pouring through them, trying to find an answer to his brother’s odd behaviour. He knew it would be much faster looking up the symptoms online, but Stan had never quite grasped the concept of the Internet.

As he scanned through a fourth book on psychology in his favourite living room chair, he heard something smash in the kitchen, immediately followed by a startled yelp. He set the book down and rushed into the kitchen to find Ford sitting amongst some broken glass and a puddle of water, shards of glass sticking into his hand. Blood slowly dripped down his hand and onto the floor.

Stan sighed, kneeling beside his brother and using some paper towel to mop up the water. He collected the shards of glass on the table before helping Ford to his feet. Ford stumbled, having to lean against his brother for support. Holding Ford’s injured hand by the wrist in one hand, Stan slung Ford’s other arm around his shoulders and guided his brother to the bathroom. He sat Ford down on the closed toilet lid and began removing the shards of glass from Ford’s hand. Ford let out a sharp hiss and a few slurred mumbled words ever so often. It had gotten to the point where Stan could barely understand what his brother was saying. It broke Stan’s heart to see Ford like this. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for Ford.

Once the glass was removed, Stan cleaned and wrapped Ford’s hand securely. Ford sniffled a little bit. Stan looked up to see tears trickling down his brother’s face. Ford let out a choked sob and leaned forward into Stan’s shoulder. He struggled to get his arms up around his brother’s back.

Stan lifted Ford’s arms up so they were around his neck before pulling his brother close. Stan sat on the bathroom floor and gently lifted Ford off the toilet and sat him in his lap like a young child. Ford buried his face in Stan’s neck, trembling with quiet sobs. Stan kept his brother in a tight hug. “Oh Poindexter… wish I knew what was wrong with you…” he murmured quietly.

Ford sat up a little bit, bringing one hand up to his head. He weakly tapped a finger against his skull, his eyes downcast. He mumbled something, his words slurred inaudibly.

Stan frowned. “I know, your brain’s all messed up, bud. Wish I could work out why, though.”

Ford shook his head. He curled his hand into a fist and knocked it against his head. Stan was startled to hear what sounded like metal beneath his brother’s scalp. His eyes widened. “Ford…? Is that… is that metal?!”

Ford nodded, his face lighting up a little bit. His arms dropped weakly back to his side. He tried to pull himself to his feet by gripping onto the sink, but lacked the upper body strength. Stan caught the hint and helped his brother up, looping one of Ford’s arms over his shoulders again.

Ford stumbled in the direction of his bedroom. Stan held him up as slowly the pair left the bathroom and walked down the hall. Ford slumped into the chair by his desk and grabbed a pen, clutching it in his fist as tight as he could manage. He dragged over a scrap piece of paper and put the pen down.

Stan watched in anticipation as Ford began drawing on the paper. The lines were shaky and rough, but they were as clear as they needed to be for Stan to understand them. Ford drew a small triangle on the paper, before drawing what looked like a lemon in the middle, a small black line through the middle of the shape in the centre.

Stan swallowed. “Bill…?”

Ford nodded, grinning slightly. Stan was concerned to see that his eyes were unfocused again. He put the pen onto a clear space of the paper and drew three long, jagged lines on the page, representing a lightning strike.

Stan ran a hand through his hair, the pieces beginning to fall into place. “Bill… struck you with lightning?”

Ford put his hand out flat and tipped it side to side in a “sort of” motion. He drew a crooked stickman with something wrapped around its neck, arms and legs. He drew some small circles joined to the cuffs with more lightning bolts leading up to Bill’s eye. The whole drawing was shaky and childlike, but Stan knew exactly what it meant.

His heart pounded in his throat as he fixed Ford with a scared look. “Bill… electrocuted you…?”

Ford nodded rapidly, his mouth open in a lopsided smile. He tapped again on the side of his head, his skull making the same metallic clunking sound. Stanley gulped. “A-and that metal in your head conducted it to your brain?”

Ford nodded again. He put his hand on Stan’s arm, his mouth wide in a grin. Stan noticed his eyes seemed focused on him and full of joy. Stan couldn’t believe it. He was in shock. The sort of electric shock Bill must have given him to cause damage like that… it made him sick. One question still lingered in the forefront of his mind.

“C-can it be cured…?”

Ford swallowed and looked away. He didn’t nod, but he didn’t shake his head either. His shoulders raised in a quick shrug. Stan noticed Ford was trembling again. He knelt to his brother’s level, wrapping his arms securely around Ford once more. Ford leaned into the hug, body shaking with fresh sobs.

Stan ran a hand through his brother’s hair. “Don’t worry, Poindexter, we’ll get you some help. We’ll get you better, I promise.” He felt Ford relax in his arms and nod slowly.

Stan wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to keep that promise.

_____

@sixerpines

Had to do some research for this one. Found out a ton of interesting stuff. Psychology and neurology are not my areas of expertise, though, so I apologise for inaccuracies. 

I figured that despite his problems, Ford would still be able to think and know how to help Stan understand what he was thinking. 

Snow Maid and the Mockingbird

The snow fell and Sansa’s snow castle rose. Her Winterfell.

“May I come into your castle, my lady?” She did not know how long Petyr had been watching her.

“It’s Winterfell. My home.”

“I used to dream of Winterfell, in those years after your mother went north with your father. In my dreams it was ever a dark place, and cold.”

“No. It was always warm, even when it snowed. Would you help me building it, Lord Baelish?”

"Nothing could please me more.”

Winterfall rose and rose.

“I told you that nothing could please me more than to help you with your castle” Petyr said. “fear that was a lie as well. Something else would please me more.” He stepped closer. “This.”

Sansa tried to step back, but he pulled her into his arms and suddenly he was kissing her.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing a snow maid.”

“You’re supposed to kiss my aunt Lysa. She’s your wife.”

“I wish you could see yourself, my lady. You are so beautiful.”

"You shouldn’t kiss me. I might have been your own daughter … ”

“Might have been. You are Eddard Stark’s daughter, and Cat’s. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was, when she was your age.”

“Petyr, please.”

It was more than Sansa could stand. She was happy when her aunt summoned her. Lady Lysa was with that horrible singer of hers.

“I saw what you did,” the Lady Lysa said.

“Please, My lady. I did nothing. He kissed me.“

"And why would he do that? He has a wife who loves him. You threw yourself at him.“

"That’s not true.”

“They all tried to take him from me. My lord father, my husband, your mother … Catelyn most of all. She liked to kiss my Petyr too, oh yes she did.”

“My mother?”

“Yes, your mother, my own sweet sister Catelyn. She teased him with smiles and soft words and wanton looks, and made his nights a torment.”

Lysa grabbed Sansa by the wrist. She pulled to the moon door. Beyond was white sky, falling snow, and nothing else.

Lady Lysa pressed her forward inexorably. Sansa was shaking, sobbing. They teetered on the edge. “I’ll make you fly.”

“Lysa! What’s the meaning of this. Get back from there! Lysa, what are you doing?” It was Petyr.

“She’s a child, Lysa. Cat’s daughter. What did you think you were doing?”

“You can’t want her. You can’t. She’s a stupid empty-headed little girl. She doesn’t love you the way I have. I’ve always loved you.”

"I know, love. "And I am here. All you need to do is take my hand, come on.”

“I poisoned my husband for you. Why did you kiss her? Why? We’re together now, we’re together after so long, so very long.”

"My sweet silly jealous wife. I’ve only loved one woman, I promise you.”

“Only one? Oh, Petyr, do you swear it?”

“Only Cat." 

He gave her a short, sharp shove.

Lysa stumbled backward, her feet slipping on the wet marble. And then she was gone.

Lord Petyr pulled Sansa to her feet. "You’re not hurt?”

“No”

When she shook her head, he said, “Run let my guards in, then. Quick now, there’s no time to lose. This singer’s killed my lady wife.”

A Storm of Swords Chapter 80 (Sansa VII) -(abridged)

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Alright, here’s my main Nanbaka OC, Nezumi Tachibana! She’s the head supervisor of Building 9. ( ´ ▽ ` )ノ Sorry for this truckload of info! ε-(´∀`; )

The pics of her with short hair are when she first started working at Nanba and the others are her now.

Bio:

Tachibana Nezumi
Sex: F Age: 28
Height: 4'11" (149.89 cm)
Nationality: Japanese
Traits Leader, Oblivious, Multi-tasker, Asocial, Tactful, Indolent
Trivia: -can go for days without sleep
-uses a segway to get around quickly
- weapon is a taser with different settings
- had built and set up all the traps in case of a jail break
- communicates with inmates through security cameras and the loud speaker

Backstory:

Nezumi and her big sister, Denso, are the daughters of two very successful engineers. In their childhood, their parents pushed them to pursue careers in engineering but Denso was more interested in traveling and Nezumi found it more fun to play video games. Still, the two siblings worked hard to make their parents proud so they would help each other out with school and studying.

Nezumi and Denso developed a bond stronger than what they had with their parents. When they graduated, they went to the same college. It was until Denso mysteriously dropped out and disappeared. Nezumi decided to do the same to find her. Nezumi started working in the police force, climbing her way up to get info on Denso’s whereabouts.

What made her decide to work at Nanba Prison was one phonecall from her parents who now placed all of their hopes of success onto her shoulders. With Denso gone, Nezumi was the only one left to carry on their company. So when she selected for an job at Nanba, she took it. Anything to get away from it all. She was placed in Building 9, where they held most of the female prisoners. She quickly became the right hand man to Building 9’s supervisor who became like a parent figure to her.

For one task, however, she was to deliver a few files to Building 5. That’s when she met Enki Gokuu, the supervisor at the time. She saw him as a role model for discipline and authority which she became quickly enamored with. Afterwards, any task that involve do going to Building 5 was snatched by Nezumi. She would always too flustered to have a conversation with Enki so she decided to send him anonymous letters. She would send paragraphs and he would send her short responses. To Nezumi, those responses made her felt like she truly connected with someone.

Nanba Prison was her safe haven, away from the problems with her family. It all came crashing down with the Buildings 5 incident. The letters stop instantly. All Nezumi had now was the Building 9 supervisor. One day, they called her into their office to tell them that they were going to take a vacation so she will be in charge of Building 9 from now on. “ I could always trust you to do your job” they said. They never came back since.

Nezumi did her job by locking herself away in the surveillance room. Her name soon deteriorated into security cameras and microphones. The building’s presence fade with her, becoming just a buildings to hold criminals in. In the present, nobody knows who Building 9’s supervisor is or what she looks like.

Women are much more important in the industry now. When I started, we were just decorative. Apart from Dusty. But most weren’t that interesting and they could’ve been. Lulu had an amazing bluesy voice but she wasn’t allowed to use it. Women have basically taken over the industry. Amy Winehouse is a great example, I adored her.
—  Marianne Faithfull.

“‘Scuse me, Your Reverence,” said Goodmountain. One of the dwarfs had tapped him gently on the shoulder and handed him a square of paper. He passed it up to the Bursar.
“Young Caslong here thought you might like this as a souvenir,” he said. “He took it down directly from the case and pulled it off on the stone. He’s very quick like that.”
Th Bursar tried to look the young dwarf sternly up and down, although this was a pretty pointless intimidatory tactic to use on dwarfs, since they had very little up to look down from.
“Really?” he said. “How very…” His eyes scanned the paper.
And then bulged.
“But these are… when I said… I only just said… how did you know I was going to say… I mean, my actual words…” he stuttered.
“Of course they’re not properly justified,” said Goodmountain.
“Now just a moment–” the Bursar began.

– typesetting puns | Terry Pratchett, The Truth

And it is the consciousness of our own humanity which makes us forgive others and become tender and tolerant toward them. In this moment, before I fall asleep, I remember that I must die, and be as if I had not been. In the living darkness before death we cling together and are kind to one another. That’s the only creation we are capable of.
—  Siegfried Sassoon, diary entry dated October 25, 1922

Ask and you shall receive I guess. ;)

Lilo future!fic, in which both are single, Liam’s got two kids, and I end up calling Liam’s first-born “James” because the fucker still hasn’t shared his actual baby’s name with us.


Liam was in over his head. He knew it, and it only served to annoy him further. This was stupid. He was a grown-ass man. He had kids for Christ’s sake!

There was absolutely no reason for him to angst over the meaning of a bloody text message.

Especially not one that said, Im not gonna comment until Ive tried it myself.

Louis had added the sunglasses emoji at the end, which was nice but didn’t help Liam figure out whether he was serious or not.

And knowing whether Louis was serious or not felt quite bloody important, considering the message Liam had sent him right before had been: Then she said i was lousy in bed, like, can you believe?!

Liam took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Keep reading

  • Sejeong: From now on, we will be using code names. You can adress me as Eagle One.
  • Sejeong: Nayoung, code name - Been There, Done That.
  • Sejeong: Chungha is - Currently Doing That.
  • Sejeong: Chaeyeon is - It Happened Once In A Dream.
  • Sejeong: Mina, code name: If I Had To Pick A Gugudan Member.
  • Sejeong: Jieqiong is - Eagle Two.
  • Jieqiong: Oh thank God.

tagged by @dojimadaigo, let’s do that shit

Nickname: My dad used to call me monkey when I was like eight???? Erica’s not really a name you need to nicknameify

Zodiac sign: Virgo

Height: 5′4"

Last Thing You Googled: i have no goddamn idea

Favourite Music Artists: N/A

Song Stuck In My Head: N/A

Last Movie you watched: 2fast2furious

What are you wearing right now: pants t shirt sweater

Why did you choose your URL: wanted to match with a friend

Do you have any other blogs: askblogs that are covered in dust

What did your last relationship teach you: never had a consistent long term relationship

Religious or spiritual: neither because “spiritual” was a way to cheat at being religious white people came up with in the 1800s 

Favorite color: dark red

Average hours of sleep: a decent 8

Lucky Number: N/A

Favorite Characters: too many

How many blankets do you sleep with: not counting sheet three

Dream Job: person who draws

i’ll tag @majimass and @hiro-hito but if y’all don’t wanna you don’t have to

anonymous asked:

I don't mind them rebooting SCREAM... but they had so many loose threads hanging from season 2. They should have at least done ONE more episode to give the fans closure... but I guess that is the nature of the horror movies it draws inspiration from... leave the audience wanting more and leaving it on a cliffhanger. Right?

Honestly, I was upset about the plot threads being left open but if it means Scream will be more diverse and have a showrunner with horror experience, I do not care one bit.

As for your question there is a quote from Alan Wake/Stephen King that fits exactly what you are saying:

Stephen King once wrote that “Nightmares exist outside of logic, and there’s little fun to be had in explanations; they’re antithetical to the poetry of fear.” In a horror story, the victim keeps asking “Why?” But there can be no explanation, and there shouldn’t be one. The unanswered mystery is what stays with us the longest, and it’s what we’ll remember in the end. [x]

9

Stay safe for her

Based on an anon’s suggestion, it was supposed to be a simple 1 panel thing, but here’s some sort of a comic instead

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It’s like in the great stories. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were.