When I watched Avatar for the first time, I did it totally out of order. The first episode I saw was Cave of Two Lovers, I watched the finale before Western Air Temple, and the first episode was one of the last I saw. I was mostly at the mercy of the whims of Nickelodeon’s Saturday morning marathons.
So I knew from almost the beginning that Zuko (spoiler alert) was going to grow his hair out and switch sides, and I knew it happened mid book 3. Watching Crossroads of Destiny, then, was a totally different experience. When Azula gave him the ultimatum, I knew which side he’d choose, and I was so frustrated and angry. I wanted Zuko to be good already, dammit. After all of the development and the “metamorphosis” he’d gone through only a few episodes ago, I was convinced that his mistake in CoD was in there purely for shock value (and for me, knowing how it ended, I didn’t even get to experience that) and to draw out the angst. I was bitter because I felt cheated out of a half season’s worth of Redeemed!Zuko hanging out with the gaang. (It’s also worth mentioning that I was like 12.)
But now I know I was completely wrong. Whenever I try to think about what would have happened with the rest of the series if Zuko had sided with Aang instead of Azula, it just doesn’t work.Zuko needed to make that mistake in the crystal catacombs, and I can’t imagine his story without it.
Zuko developed a lot as a character through his travels in the Earth Kingdom up until his moment of truth under Ba Sing Se. He was rejected by his father, who sent Azula to imprison him and put out wanted posters that permitted anyone to kill him on site. He experienced true poverty and saw first-hand the horrible effects of the Fire Nation’s war. He’s been on his own. And, at last, he even gave up his search for the Avatar for a little while– not because realized it was wrong, but because realized it was hopeless.
But let’s think for a minute about what it would have meant for Zuko to side with the Avatar and fight Azula in Ba Sing Se. It would have made him a traitor. To side with Aang would be not only to acknowledge that the war was unjust and the fire nation the oppressor, but it would also be to actively fight against his own nation. And, implicitly, it would mean acknowledging the truth that his father did not and would never want him back. Zuko, at the end of Book 2, has had many experiences that point directly to these truths and in light of them, Zuko siding with the Avatar doesn’t seem that far-fetched. In fact, it was what a lot of people watching for the first time expected.
Here’s the catch: even though Zuko had had all of these experiences, he hadn’t yet processed them and fit them all together to form their logical conclusions. Sure, he knew the horrors the Fire Nation had committed in its war for prosperity, but he still wouldn’t have denounced his nation ; he knew that his father had declared him a traitor and sent Azula to lock him up, but he wouldn’t have admitted at that point that his father would never love or accept him and preferred him dead. Zuko pre-redemption is the king of cognitive dissonance. He has a lot at stake with the processing of all of these experiences—basically, his entire world-view. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that trying to reconcile what he saw in the Earth Kingdom with his current world-view could easily bring everything he knew and considered sacred crashing down around him. And there was one thing in particular that Zuko would protect at all costs; one truth that has been at the center of his world and forefront of his mind ever since his banishment — that he had a home to return to and there was a place for him within it, that if he just didn’t screw up for once everything would be okay again. This is the one thing Zuko clings to throughout his entire banishment, despite all the evidence and logic to the contrary, because if this one truth falls away what does he have left?
I wish you would write a fic where Obi-Wan is the first person to know Padmé is pregnant. Literally the first, before even Padmé.
It’s funny because the reason Anakin found out kinda late in canon is because him and Obi-Wan have been out in the Outer Rim on various campaigns that keep rolling into one another so for this to work you’d have to fiddle with some other things first. Like, for instance, why Obi-Wan is apart from Anakin - so I guess I’d start that fic with some explanation for why they’re apart. Maybe its something that Palpatine did or maybe it’s something as simple as Obi-Wan being a few inches to the right at the wrong moment and having to go back to Coruscant for medical reasons.
So, in that case, he comes back to Coruscant early and stops by to see Padme, because he wants to check in, see how she’s doing, maybe update her on how Anakin’s doing, stuff like that. (And, yes, Anakin may have been very embarrassing convincing in getting him to make sure Padme was okay when he came back.)
So he goes to see her, greetings and hugs are exchanged, and then they sit down and Obi-Wan is mentally like ARE YOU SERIOUS? ARE YOU TWO ACTUAL FACTS SERIOUS ABOUT THIS BULLSHIT? WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A WAR, ARE YOU TWO ACTUALLY HAVING A FUCKING BABY?! I KNOW YOU BOTH KNOW ABOUT BIRTH CONTROL AND CONDOMS, ESPECIALLY YOU ANAKIN - YOU TOLD ME THINGS I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT VARIOUS KINDS OF BIRTH CONTROL WHEN I TRIED TO GIVE YOU ‘THE TALK’.
So he’s just mentally like *angry face emoji*. And I feel like this might actually be something I’d write as a crack-taken-kinda-seriously fic. Obi-Wan would be like “I cannot possibly return back to the front lines, I have to…water my plants.” And the council is just like “omg, Kenobi wants to TAKE A BREAK?? Yes we are ALL OVER THIS PLAN, THIS IS A GREAT PLAN!!”
And then Obi-Wan is just like “oh, I’m going to just shadow Senator Amidala, for her safety since she’s so important to the war effort, and also coincidently gets free drinks from the Senate when she’s at her office.” And he’s still ike *angry face emoji* at the whole pregnant thing. Meanwhile, Padme is pleased that her friend is back home and able to visit with her so much, especially since Obi-Wan has so many stories about Ani and she is always there for embarrassing stories about Ani’s youth. *Happy face emoji*
And then he manages to get a comm call out to Anakin, through like seven different encrypted, secure lines and is immediately like YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE, YOU ARE GROUNDED! I DON’T CARE THAT YOU’RE TWENTY-THREE AND NO I’M NOT TELLING YOU WHY YOU’RE GROUNDED, YOU JUST ARE! And Anakin is just *confused emoji face*
And then Padme figures out she’s pregnant and Obi-Wan is just like FINALLY, OH MY GOD WHY DID YOU TAKE SO LONG TO FIGURE THAT OUT? And Padme is like I’M PREGNANT!!!?? A BABY WITH ANAKIN??!!! And then she’s like ANI’S STILL ON THE FRONT AND HE DOESN’T KNOW!! *dismayed face emoji*
And then the Chancellor gets kidnapped and Anakin comes back, saves the Chancellor, and comes back to the news that he’s going to be a daddy! And Obi-Wan is like SURELY THIS WILL BE WHEN I GET TO OFFICIALLY KNOW ABOUT THE AFFAIR!! THEY WILL TELL ME ABOUT THE AFFAIR NOW!!
And Padme is like “Obi-Wan has been so helpful since he’s been back and he’ll totally help us! We’re super good friends and he’s missed you so much!” And Anakin’s like I’VE MISSED HIM SO MUCH, I’VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH, I WANT CUDDLES and this means I can tell Obi-Wan everything???
And then they surprise him by going “Obi-Wan, we’re married and expecting a baby!” And Obi-Wan is like WHAT?? I THOUGHT YOU WERE JUST HAVING AN AFFAIR
And Anakin is like *outraged face emoji* I WOULD NEVER HAVE SEX OUTSIDE MARRIAGE, WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR??
And Obi-Wan is like WHEN DID YOU EVEN HAVE THE TIME??
And Padme is finally like HELLO, BIG NEWS OVER HERE?? THERE IS A BABY INSIDE ME!! A BABY!!!
And Obi-Wan is just like I KNEW THAT LITERALLY MONTHS AGO, BECAUSE I KNEW BEFORE YOU DID!! THIS IS NOT NEWS TO ME, YOU KNOW WHAT IS NEWS TO ME?? THIS MARRIAGE!! THIS MARRIAGE THAT YOU TALKED ANAKIN INTO, YOU- YOU -
And Anakin is like O.O! And Padme is like FINISH THAT SENTENCE, I DARE YOU!!!
it is absolutely, hilariously astonishing to me how often i’m asked to provide a 25 page extensively sourced MLA formatted academic style paper about why i think pansy parkinson is a character worth discussing, but…here we are, i guess.
first thing’s first—
fanon pansy =/= canon pansy.
canon pansy =/= fanon pansy.
canon pansy is a one-dimensional bully with no discernible personality traits beyond “mean” and “myopic”. she’s villainized by the story. her primary function within the narrative is to follow draco malfoy around. she’s background noise. she giggles, and she shrieks, and she makes fun of harry & co. pansy parkinson is also a figurative dumping ground for an alarming number of awful, misogynistic, enormously unflattering stereotypes for female characters—her relationship with draco is depicted as at least partially one-sided, which makes her seem desperate; she has a tendency to mock other students for their physical appearances, which makes her seem insecure; and she’s likened, more than once, to a literal dog. literally. a dog.
(rowling had a truly terrible habit of peppering the hp books with a lot of these villainous non-characters, who were almost always slytherins, and who were almost always described as either unattractive, unintelligent, or both. see: millicent bulstrode, who is jokingly suspected of being related to a troll. marcus flint, who cheats at quidditch, is held back multiple school years, and has appallingly bad teeth. crabbe & goyle, who are violent, overweight, and implied to need draco’s help with her homework in order to avoid flunking out.)
canon pansy is a poorly constructed caricature of a Mean Girl who readers are meant to find abhorrent. all the ingredients for a spectacularly unlikeable character are there. it’s like rowling had a checklist.
that said, pansy’s role as hermione’s social foil gives her slightly more of a personality than the majority of the other slytherins. pansy is shown to be friendly with blaise zabini, who is, canonically, arrogant and enigmatic and disdainful of draco malfoy. pansy wears a pink dress to the yule ball. she likes unicorns. she possesses leadership qualities—she’s a prefect, she has a “gang” of slytherin girls—and is, by virtue of that, at the very least an above average student. she’s loyal to the people she’s shown to be close to. she cries when draco is hurt. her political affiliations, parentage, and blood status are categorically unknown. we can assume she’s probably a pureblood, and that she chose not to fight against the death eater regime at hogwarts, but she wasn’t a death eater. her dialogue with draco and blaise zabini about the war in HPB was ambiguously supportive, at worst.
(important note—one of the major themes in the books is redemption. see: severus snape. regulus black. the malfoys. rowling’s world building was full of lofty, often convoluted metaphors for racism and homophobia, which had the unfortunate side-effect of humanizing a lot of actively, violently racist characters who would have otherwise been unpalatable to any reasonably self-aware reader. the notion that grand gestures of bravery and self-sacrifice are necessary for redemption—again, see: severus snape, regulus black, the malfoys—is, however, repulsive to me, especially when the argument of worthiness is centered on a teenage girl who has, canonically, spent her formative years hanging around actively, violently racist people. And that’s not even delving into the numerous instances of benign racism perpetrated by characters who aren’t vile slytherin blood supremacists. see: the weasleys. albus dumbledore. rufus scrimgeour. the text goes out of its way to emphasize that combating internalized prejudices is an ongoing battle that has to be consciously fought. it’s a choice. but i digress.)
canon pansy =/= fanon pansy.
fanon pansy =/= canon pansy.
i see a lot of discourse about pansy being an inappropriate “feminist icon"—she’s a bully, she’s mean to other girls, et cetera, et cetera—and the irony of passing that kind of judgment on a female character whose entire narrative existence is predicated on her ability to compare unfavorably to, you know, all the good female characters; it is staggering.
i have loved characters like hermione granger and ginny weasley and fleur delacour since i was a child. they are smart and brave and interesting and Not Like Other Girls. their flaws are considered socially acceptable. hermione is bossy and narrow-minded; but she’s also usually right. ginny is outspoken and reactionary and obstinate; but she’s also pretty and popular and good at sportball. fleur is vain and self-absorbed; but she’s also beautiful and brilliant and fiercely loyal.
Not. Like. Other. Girls.
not like pansy parkinson, for example, who is, almost unapologetically, exactly the kind of girl no one ever wants to be.
she likes pink. she giggles. she cries. she chases after a boy who, at best, seems mostly indifferent to her presence. she’s self-conscious enough about her nose that it’s a well-known sore spot for other students to maliciously poke at. i don’t think we ever get a description of what her voice sounds like, but i instinctively associate her with a high-pitched, nasally whine. she’s petty—see: her interview with rita skeeter in GoF—and she’s narcissistic—see: her stint with the inquisitorial squad—and she’s a cliché, of course, just not an especially creative one.
there are obvious, valid criticisms to be made about how people interact with characters like pansy parkinson. and draco malfoy. and severus snape. but there is a huge difference between blindly excusing or romanticizing those characters’ actions and making an effort to humanize them.
i feel like i just figured out a lifehack for my brain somewhat
so i struggle with getting up and doing things sometimes, to the point where stuff kinda builds up and gets overwhelming (imagine ur hungry, no clean dishes, garbage is full, kitchen is dirty, no clean clothes and out of soap for everything and u havent slept yet and stores are almost closed, it happens occasionally)
but i keep thinking if i can just get up and do one thing little by little i can eventually do all the things, but this is very hard
i tried setting myself a timer as in a “in 20 minutes go do thing” but i end up spacing out
anyways discovered a thing that is like a timer buit isnt a timer and it works for some reason n very very easy to do so doesnt feel like a task in of itself
I boil some water in my electric kettle and tell myself “do as many things as you can before the water is fully boiled” theres no chunk of time associated with that task, but it does take a bit for it to click and before my brain can figure out whats going on and stop me whoops i just cleaned half dishes and boiled some water go me!
then i just repeat until everything i need to do is done
i dont know why this works, maybe because my brain cant associate boiling water with an inherent chunk of time like “in 20 minutes do this” or “at 7pm do thing” but it works so woohoo brain hack!
Pairing: Jimin x Reader Genre: Smut
»Bondage, Overstimulation, Jimin being cute but in a hot way
The branches grew wings, or so it seemed as such as the heavy wind ruffled what few leaves clung to their dormant twigs. It soothed your mind, allowing your thoughts to run their course until nothing filled your head but the sharp breeze stinging your exposed skin and piercing through your inappropriate autumn attire as you watched the branches attempt to fly away as their green and yellow wings flapped with fervor.
But soon, even that became a tedious task that only made you feel how hard the concrete bench felt beneath you, and you soon stood to move on to another site, another way to take your mind off of everything you weren’t actually thinking about. Too much stress always came to you like this: to the point of no feeling. What made this form of stress so shitty was that you had no idea what could get you out of your funk, something to ground you.
You found yourself close to your apartment building in your aimless walking, and you shrugged as you entered. The outside world provided you with no help at all; maybe you could find some relief in your own small home on the 12th floor. You stilled at the hands gripping at your waist, your fist tightening in balls as you turned your head only to meet the cheery face of your boyfriend. You sighed in relief as you turned to meet Jimin’s playful grin.
“I caught you,” he cooed, pulling at the strap of his brown messenger bag. “Why are you getting home from work so early?” You were about half an hour early.
You shrugged as you both headed towards the elevator to see it was just opening and both slid in with the elderly lady before you finally answered. “I told my boss I wasn’t feeling well; coming down with something.” You spoke quietly as you eyed the gray curls of the lady in front of you, pressing towards your boyfriend as the numbers ascended.
“Are you sick, really?” he asked, his tone laced in concern. You gave a small grin as you bumped shoulders. “Nah,” you answered. “I just needed to get home.”
The elevator stopped on the 6th floor finally and you chewed at the inside of your cheek as you scrutinized every step it took for the woman to step off the elevator, the doors closing on sensory detail. As the metal box jerked you down in its quick ascend, you fell to your boyfriend, burying your face in his neck and curling into the hardness of his body that you found all too comforting. “Jimin,” you whined needily as you tried impossibly to get closer and deeper into your boyfriend’s skin. As your hand slid to his neck, pulling him into you, the thought flew and tumbled off your lips as they pressed close to his ear. “Let me tie you up tonight.”
Request: I can’t really think about an actual story plot but maybe yoongi getting you pregnant and he chickens out… Aw This is such a bad description but since you’re an amazing writer ypu can pull it off better ☺💖 thank you!
Pairing: Yoongi + Reader
Word Count: 1.922
Warnings: swearing, numbers (lolol)
A/N: gosh I suck at math so I hope the numbers are right… also please leave feedback if you want more!
49 panic attacks.
12 sleepless nights.
That’s how you counted the time since you had last heard from Yoongi. All that time passed without him answering your calls or messages, leaving you on read and declining every single one of your calls.
He wants me to feel ignored, otherwise he’d just let the phone ring - or not click on my messages.
He wants me to know he’s there but not ready yet.
That’s his game.
You didn’t want to give up on him. He was everything you had, everything you had counted on. He was your best friend, your partner in crime, your lover and your other half. You had hoped for a future with Yoongi. Always supporting him and his moody behavior. Being there for him no matter what because you knew how stressed he was and how burdened he felt. So you didn’t stop leaving messages, as random as they were. You knew he was just being stubborn, you knew he would never leave you just like that.
He loves me.
He’s just having a hard time.
You started coming by their dorms every second day, hoping to get Yoongi out of his box. Being friends with the boys as well, they didn’t really mind. It was weird for you in the beginning because you two had been dating for so long, yet you had never really been at the dorms that often. Dating Yoongi meant spending more time with him at the studio than at the dorms. It was a nice change to be able to spend time with the others as well but you always knew in the back of your mind that the actual reason behind that situation was everything else but nice. And Yoongi knew how to remind you every time you visited - not once had you seen his face or heard his voice. He disappeared as soon as he knew you were coming over and wouldn’t come back until you had already left. You weren’t even the one telling him that you were coming over, hoping that one day he’d be there to talk things out face to face but he always found his ways to be gone before you could even notice. You still saw his things lying around, things he usually had lying around at your dorm. Familiar pieces of his, spread around the dorm, reminding you how his things were here but he would never be.
He’s just not ready. He needs time.
The boys knew what had happened between you two and you felt their pitiful glances they threw your way when they thought you weren’t paying attention. But you saw. They were always there. During dinner. While playing video games. Helping with the chores. Watching a movie. Going over their choreographies. You saw and it broke you more each time. Even they knew how pathetic you were behaving.
And that’s what it was - pathetic. You knew it, Yoongi knew it, the boys knew it, everybody knew it. Still, you couldn’t give up because in the end of the day, it wasn’t only about you and Yoongi but about the baby. Your baby needed a dad, not only a father. And you were just as stubborn as Yoongi, so you wouldn’t give up so easily. Your child was not going to be raised by a single mom, a college student who could barely take care of herself. It was going to live better than that.
He’ll give in. I know he will.
At that moment, a soft pillow hit you in the face and screams erupted through the living room. Before you could realize what was going on, Taehyung had ducked behind you, making Jungkook run around your tiny figure in circles, making Taehyung shove you around like a shield to protect himself, earning screams of confusion from you.
“You coward, move away from (Y/N)!”, Jungkook screamed and laughed before jumping forward, taking you to the ground with him as he landed on Tae, pinning his figure to the ground in a merciless grip.
“Jungkook, let go, you’re gonna break my arm!”, Taehyung laughed while screaming out in pain, making Jin came rushing into the living room to your side. Stretching out his hands for you, you thankfully grabbed them and he helped you up before parting the two boys in one swift move.
“Are you two crazy?! We have a pregnant woman here, you could have hurt her and the baby! Stop running around like that or you’ll be cooking your own meals until this baby decides to break free”, Jin scolded while sitting you down on the couch, handing you a pillow and a blanket. You raised your eyebrows at him in confusion and laughed at his choice of words.
“For support. The baby needs it”, he simply answered and positioned it himself when you didn’t make a single move.
“You can’t do that Jin Hyung! She’s not even fat yet!”, Jungkook exclaimed and earned a smack on the back of his head from his hyung. The maknae winced and rubbed his head in pain, whilst Taehyung laughed at the comical scene in front of him, earning a death glare from Jin.
“Shh, you don’t say that to a girl Jungkook. Don’t you have any manners?”, Jin looked angry but you just laughed and sat up.
“He’s right though, I’m not even fat yet. I’m just two months pregnant, Jin. Stop worrying so much”, you smiled at the older boy but he just shook his head and sat down next to you as the two others left the room to play video games in their bedroom.
“The first three months are the most critical ones (Y/N)! You should know that. Anything could happen”, he looked at you seriously concerned, so you grabbed his hand, rubbing your thumbs over his soft skin. You noticed him shiver and quickly look away but chose to ignore it.
“I know Jinnie. Thank you for taking such good care of me. I don’t know where I’d be without you”, you grinned foolishly but meant it. He had been there for you the second Yoongi decided to break it off and ignore you. In the heat of the moment you had called Jin right after you had calmed down from the first shock and since then he hadn’t left your side. He always made sure that you were doing okay, that you were eating and getting enough sleep, even bringing over food to your dorm himself if you couldn’t come over. He also made you tell him your check up appointments so he’d know if anything was wrong. He cared and you were truly thankful.
“You’d definitely be lost, I can tell you that”, he mumbled but smiled and pulled you into a hug. You were taken aback for a second as you inhaled his scent. He smelled manlier than expected and for a second, goosebumps arose on your skin before you heard a door being slammed shut and someone shuffling lazily into the room. You turned around, breaking free from the embrace and saw him. He was standing still in between doors, eyes glued to Jin’s hands on your waist.
“Yoongi”, you exhaled, eyes wide and watery as your heart started beating faster by every second that passed while he just stared. He looked exhausted, more than usual. Deep bags under his eyes, colored in deep purple and blue, signaling that he mustn’t have gotten lots of sleep in the past couple of weeks. His skin looked paler than ever and dehydrated, having lost all natural glow. His figure was skinnier than ever and you were scared that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself up for much longer. At least he seemed to have taking care of his hair and clothes as his outfit and hair were styled enough to walk out of the house.
“I-I’m going to see what the others are doing”, Jin quickly got up, shooting you one last glance before walking out in the opposite direction of Yoongi. The boy’s eyes followed his hyung until he had left the room, basically shooting daggers into his direction before turning his gaze to you.
“Yoongi we-”, you started but he interrupted you harshly.
“Why was he touching you like that?”, his voice was icy like the last words that he had directed at you when he left you a month ago.
You were confused. “What?”
“Why was he touching you like that (Y/N)?”, his stare had something unreadable in it. Hands balled into fists on the sides of his body, his eyes didn’t leave your face.
“Touch like what Yoongi?”, Jin had only hugged you. You didn’t know what was going on.
“His hands were on your fucking waist (Y/N)! Don’t act like I’m fucking blind”, he scoffed and rolled his eyes in annoyance.
He was jealous. Min Yoongi was jealous even though he had broken up with you. Even though he had ignored all your calls and texts, avoided you for a whole month and left you with an unborn baby.
That’s when it clicked.
Calling your state furious would be an understatement.
“So what if his hands were on my waist? He takes very good care of me and the baby, so he’s allowed to touch me”, you spat in an attempt to let Yoongi feel what you had been feeling that whole time. Even though he looked bad, he couldn’t have been through half the stuff you had been through the last weeks.
In the end of the day, he was the one who broke it off right?
Yoongi huffed and went through his hair with one hand. “So what, Jin’s the baby daddy now? As soon as I’m not available, you run to the next best dude?”, he was practically screaming at this point and you heard a door being shut silently. The boys were trying not to listen.
“As soon as you’re not available? Are you fucking insane? You broke up with me because I told you that I am pregnant. I tried to get you back because I knew you are stubborn and just needed time but you treated me like shit, Yoongi. Like literal shit. I come by every other day to get you to talk to me but no, mister fuckhead even knows a way to avoid me at his own home”, you had stood up and your face was red from anger at that point. Tears were streaming down your face uncontrollably. Your chest was burning from the heartache and all the pain he was making you go through again. Flashbacks from the painful words he had thrown at you, came rushing back, a new panic attack arising within you.
Please not now.
“I-I didn’t mean to”, he whispered and lowered his head.
“What?”, you weren’t sure if you had heard him correctly. Trying to calm down your breathing, you closed your eyes and balled your hands into small fists.
“I said, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that”, he lifted his gaze and spoke up, voice breaking as he looked at your state.
“Well surprise, you did it anyway”, you held back a sob, putting a hand over your mouth as soon as those words were out. You didn’t want to cry anymore. You had cried enough in the last couple of weeks.
Bringing up the word ‘flashback’ while talking about writing usually calls to mind scenes written in italics, filling in details from the past sometimes without the character even interacting with that information.
There’s plenty of writing advice out there for that kind of flashback. Don’t use them too often, keep them shorter, keep them relevant.
But today we’re going to talk about a different kind of flashback. The kind that survivors experience.
What kind of survivor? Any kind. Whether your character has gone through a nasty car crash, been kidnapped, or struck by lightning- the how to write it isn’t going to vary that much.
For the purpose of this post, we’re going to be using the character ‘Charlie’ who had a pretty traumatic experience involving hospitals when he was younger.
Here are some things to keep in mind:
There should be a trigger.
Charlie gets the news that someone is in the hospital. There’s a strong smell of antiseptic. The doctor tells him that surgery might be in his future. Depending on how often Charlie has flashbacks and how long he’s been dealing with this- depends on whether or not he’s aware of what his triggers are- but even if you have a character who is completely oblivious, as the writer you should have an idea of why this is happening.
If you’re writing a novel or a series, you can even play around with the trigger. Have it hinted at, and as the character and the reader both become more aware of what is happening, allow the trigger to become more obvious.
Less is more.
You don’t need to stop the story to give us nine paragraphs about what Charlie went through when he was nine. It can be tempting to give the whole story about what happened to them, why they were in the situation, what it did to them- but this isn’t how most people experience flashbacks.
Unless something very specific triggers Charlie, his flashback isn’t going to start at the place where he hadn’t yet gotten to the hospital. It probably isn’t going to involve the check-in process either. It also probably won’t include the part where he got better. He’s likely going to be ‘stuck’ on a specific scene or a small series of scenes. Being rushed into the ER, waking up mid-surgery, the doctors looming outside the curtain talking about his odds kind of things.
What senses are being engaged?
While some survivors of trauma do have the sort of ‘all inclusive’ flashbacks where they have a hard time recognizing what is going on around them- they aren’t the majority.
Flashbacks may or may not have a visual component. They may involve sight, smell, touch, taste, or sound. They can also involve the emotions from that time.
Maybe Charlie can’t get the taste of the horrible hospital food out of his mouth or keeps hearing the heart monitor. Maybe he feels the hospital gown fluttering against his thigh despite wearing jeans. You can have your character interact with these things- have them be aware that they aren’t actually there or trying to get rid of that sensation.
Remember that the world is still happening around your character.
Plenty of people continue to function while they’re having flashbacks. If Charlie has been doing this a while, a flashback doesn’t have to involve him running away to a closet or people shaking him to awareness.
But it is important to remember that the world is going on around him. What are people doing? Is he really processing it? Are they getting frustrated because he isn’t paying attention?
Is he bitterly amused that no one around him does seem to notice? Is he paranoid that someone might?
Is he alone? Should he have been working on a paper? If so, you can have him get annoyed with how much time has passed. Or have him consider it with exhaustion before deciding to give up and try tomorrow.
Remember, flashbacks are distressing.
What is your character doing to deal with that distress? Do they go out to smoke, jiggle their leg, get agitated with people around them? Do they need to go take a nap?
If Charlie has been dealing with this a while, he may have come up with coping skills. He may have breathing exercises that he’s practiced, a grounding mantra. Figuring out where your character is on their healing path- can help you know what skills they’ll have access to.
Short sentences give a sense of urgency and long, rambling sentences can give a sense of dissociation or fixation.
This is pretty basic writing advice, but it felt pertinent to mention. Short sentences create a sense of panic.
Winding, imagery heavy paragraphs can show a character who is obsessing over something that the flashback started or who is spiraling.
Summary: You had met Jungkook on a summer day at the age of 10, at 12 you became best friends, at 14 you had your first kiss, at 15 you fell in love and at 16 you made love. You’ve never really knew what heartbreak was until at the age of 18 he broke your heart.
Inspired by Somebody else by the 1975.
A/N: Sorry if i have grammar mistakes, English is not my first language.
I didn’t know which of the three photos to pick so I put the three of them lol.
You stopped abruptly and turned around to see one of the
worst things you’ve ever seen, Jungkook sprawled on the floor, blood sprouting
from his body, eyes closed and body covered with glass. You feared the worst,
running to his figure lying on the ground you crouched, crying and calling his
leave me, please. SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE!”
You felt the air being sucked from your lungs the
minutes it took the ambulance to get to the place and the path from the
accident to the hospital, tears flowing from your eyes incessantly, unsteadily
breathing while you strongly held Jungkook until the doctors took him away to
the emergency room and you had to let go of him.
Three tortuous hours passed before the surgeon emerged
from the emergency room.
“We have stabilized him, he suffered a fracture
in two of his right ribs and a spleen rupture, but we were able to close the
wound fast enough.” The doctor explained to you, blood returning to your
“Are you a relative of the patient? I need you to
sign these papers that authorize Mr. Jeon’s hospitalization,” the doctor
“I am his girlfriend,” you replied without
really thinking, the weight of those words quickly making effect in your mind,
you pushed the thought to the back of your mind.
suffice, please sign here” the surgeon handed you some papers and a pen to
sign them, you signed them quickly and gave them back to him.
“You can see him in an hour when he is taken to
intensive care” the doctor told you before turning around and leaving.
That hour served you a bit to think about the events
that had happened in the last weeks, your feelings for Jungkook, your feelings
for Taehyung, Jungkook’s thought of him being
ripped from your life forever, his almost lifeless body lying on the pavement ,
you never wanted to see or feel the same thing again in your life. It was
terrifying to think that someone could disappear from your life with the snap
of two fingers. What had happened was your fault, because you were the one who
ran away from the place without looking back, no mattering that Jungkook was running
after you, shouting your name, imploring you to listen.
“I’ve decided to stop doing honeypot missions,” 007 announces as soon as he enters Q Branch. He looks so proud and smug, standing in front of Q the curl haired man is not sure if he's heard well.
“Come again?” Q blurts out, not sure if he’s completely conscious, maybe he’s imagining things because it’s early in the morning and he hasn’t had his first cup of tea.
“I’m not doing anymore honeypots,” the agent says again, grinning from ear to ear when he watches the Quartermaster blinking incredulous at him.
“Okay?” Honestly Q has no idea what to say. He doesn’t know 007 very well, but he has heard about him enough to know this is something very weird. But it’s just been four months since the M’s death so maybe he’s acting like that because of grief. “But you see, 007, I’m not the one assigning missions so if you want to really stop them from giving them to you, you should talk to Mallory.”
“I did it already,” answers the agent.
The confusion on Q’s face just becomes more evident.
“Then why are you waisting both of our times?”
“I wanted you to know,” he says and with that he storms out of Q Branch.
Q’s minions are looking quite shocked and honestly he doesn’t blame them.
Double-ohs are pretty weird.
Q’s jaw drops when he sees the gun, the earpiece and the fucking watch in one piece. Yes, they all have scratches, but they still are perfectly functional.
007 chuckles, his fingers touching gently Q’s cheekbone before helping him close his mouth again.
“You brought them back!” The Quartermaster squeaks, not believe what he'sseeing.
“As I promised,” 007 says calmly.
“So you did, but I thought…”
“You didn’t believe me,” the agent grins, quite amused.
“Well… yeah, but you can hardly blame for that,” Q protests. “It’s not like you always bring back your equipment. In fact, this is the first time.”
And the last, he thinks.
“I know and I’m sorry,” 007 takes a step forward and Q doesn’t realise the agent is a little bit to close to him because he’s trying to process the fact that James bloody Bond is apologizing for something. “I’m aware of how much effort you put into this. I know you don’t sleep sometimes in order to finish the equipment on time. But from now on I swear I’ll do my best to treat your equipment with the respect it deserves.”
“I-I think… Well, I mean… Thank you?” Q is officially flustered and confused and he doesn’t enjoy much feeling that way. And 007 doesn’t help at all by taking his hands in his and bringing them to his face do he can kiss them reverently.
Of course he blushes bright red, but manages to step away from the other man.
Then realisation hits him and he’s suddenly relieved, because now he knows how to handle the situation. 007 wants something from him.
“No matter what you do, I’m not giving you an exploding pen, 007!” He crosses his arms and glares at him, he waits for the fake offended look, but it never comes.
Because the look he sees on the agent’s face is filled with hurt, genuine hurt.
“I don’t care about fucking exploding pens, Q!” He huffs, but the pain and irritation are still visible.
He’s not going to feel guilty, no he’s not going to and much less because of a double-oh.
“Then what do you want?”
007’s lips part, it looks he’s about to say something, but doesn’t.
“And I thought you were a genius,” he comments and walks away, leaving Q, one more time, with more questions than answers roaming in his head.
“007, I’m telling to get out of the building this instant!” R’s practically yelling. He’s on Bond’s earpiece that day and she seems she’s going to break anytime soon.
Bond’s doing that lately, no matter who’s directing his mission, the agent doesn’t listen to nobody. Q have been purposely avoiding him since his last encounter, but by the way he’s driving his minions mad he comes to the realization he has no choice.
“Give it to me, R,” he tells her and the girl almost cries out of relief. She connects him with Bond and rises from her seat directly to the coffee machine.
“Finally!” Bond breathes and Q swears he’s grinning even though he can’t see his face.
“There are two guards to your left and one to your right. I know you can take them all out so I suggest you to do that and get out,” he orders, using his most commanding tone.
“Of course, my dear,” 007 purrs. “I love when you get bossy.”
“Hurry up, 007!”
“It’s James,” Q hears him shooting. “Call me James.”
“You don’t have so much time left… Bond,” he reminds him.
Luckily, Bond doesn’t insist and for the first time does exactly as told.
But Q learns quickly that the agent only obeys when he’s the one guiding him through his missions. So Q becomes the only one in charge of Bond’s missions.
“Wait,” Bond’s in the middle of a parking lot, finish his last mission when Q blurts out the word, figuring it out.
“What is it?” The agent asks, stopping cold.
“You did it on purpose! You bastard! You tortured my poor minions so they didn’t want to work with you anymore!” Q growls and presses his lips together when he hears the agent laughing.
The bastard doesn’t deny it.
“Of course I did!” He chuckles.
“I like your voice,” he answers simply and Q resist the urge of crushing the pencil in his hand.
He’s sure he’s going to have a headache.
Someone tries to kidnap Q when he arrives at his apartment at night. Well… There are five guys and they try because just when the Quartermaster hits the ground a figure steps out of the shadows and starts beating them all up.
It’s a mess; none of them stand a chance against a double-oh agent. And this one, this one is furious.
Q hasn’t seen Bond like that before. He’s efficient and deadly. He kills four of them, but makes sure they cry out of pain a few times before ending their lives. The last one is badly injured, but he’s still breathing.
Then, with the most worried and soft expression he turns to look at Q and carries him in his arms like he’s a precious thing he’s afraid of breaking.
“You’ll be fine. I got you,” Bond whispers, kissing his forehead.
Q blinks at him, but doesn’t have the energy to protest so he lets his eyes to close.
“You’re going to interrogate him?” Q ask Moneypenny the next day. Thank god his wounds are not that bad so he doesn’t have to stay in Medical for long.
“It has to be me,” she says, amused. “If we let Bond in there he’ll probably be tempted to finish what he started.”
“I haven’t seen Bond so angry before,” Q mutters, frowning.
“Well… They hurt the thing he cares about the most,” she points out. “It’s a natural reaction. Bond has always been very protective.”
“Well… I am the Quartermaster, of course he cares about me. MI6 needs me.”
Moneypenny rolls her eyes and looks at him like he’s a stubborn little kid.
“I think it’s cute,” she continues as Q hasn’t said anything. “He’s pining so hard, the poor thing.”
“He’s not!” Q squeaks; his cheeks burning.
“Whatever you say, honey.”
Q hears the shoot and groan of pain in his ear. He knows it’s bad because Bond doesn’t answer him right away. It takes him a long couple of minutes for him to talk again.
“James, please… You have to stand and get out.”
“You called me James,” the agent coughs, but that doesn’t seem to take away his happiness. “I should get shoot more often.”
“Shut up and listen to me!” Q bites back a sob, he tries to appear calm, but his voice trembles in the last sentence. “You better come back, you utter bastard.”
A laugh is his response, then another cough.
“I will. Nothing can stop me from coming back to you.” He says not as a joke, not as an attempt to flirt just to make things easier. The words are sincere, like he’s just stating an obvious fact.
And finally, Q realises and it hits him so hard it makes him tear up.
When James opens his eyes, laying down on the hospital bed and notices Q sitting on the chair next to him and grins like an idiot.
Now it’s so obvious Q wants to slap himself for not noticing before.
“You bloody idiot,” it’s the first thing that comes out of his lips.
“Good morning, my dear,” James smirks. “I’m glad to see you too.”
Q sighs and leans in to place a kiss on James’ lips the agent beams at him and tries to take him by the neck and pull him close once more, but Q escapes from him just in time.
James’ mouth twitches in what looks almost like a pout. But it can’t be, because deadly assassins don’t pout.
“Now you’re being cruel. Giving me a taste so I know exactly what I cannot have,” he groans.
Q rolls his eyes and ignores him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
James takes a deep breath, his smile fades and he turns around to look at Q. There’s something desperate in his eyes it makes Q’s heart ache.
“Because you wouldn’t have believed me.”
He knows James is right.
“You had to figure it out on your own.”
The bright smile returns to James’ features.
“I think I knew the moment you assured me you could do more damage with your laptop wearing only pajamas than me in a year on the field.” He says and closes his eyes like he’s watching the moment in his mind.
“Fuck, James,” Q has to blink back the tears in his eyes.
“I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’m still too hurt for that and I’d like for our first time to be something special.”
“I love you too,” Q finally says, kissing James in the lips, feeling his agent’s mouth quirk up into a full smile.
Fandom: Star Trek AOS (Soulmate AU) Pairing: Reader x Bones Word Count: 3,028 Rating: Teen+ Warnings: Injuries, blood, surgery/hospital Tag List: @outside-the-government@littlecarowrites@star-trekkin-across-theuniverse@feelmyroarrrr@trekken81@lurkch@yourtropegirl@answer-the-sirens Author’s note: I’m still absolutely flabbergasted by the amount of love I’ve gotten for this fic. Thank you guys so much for the support! I’ve added everyone who asked to be tagged since the last time, please let me know if I missed your name! There will definitely be a part 4 to this fic, as I have more to write than I thought. It is NOT written yet, though, so there’s a chance it will be a *little* longer for the last part. Please enjoy!!
South? Where, behind the
shuttle? Or closer to the water? Leonard sends a few more questioning
thoughts as he runs, but he quickly realizes that his soulmate has completely
stopped responding. He slows to a walk
for a moment, breathing hard, straining to catch any thoughts, but he can’t
sense anything at all. He’s approaching
the crash site now and hurries forward at about the same time as the first
responders, most of whom beeline for a crowd of people near the beach. Remembering what she had told him, with the fear
of her silence making his heart clench, he jogs around behind the shuttle, away
from the crowd to the south. There are
many large pieces of the destroyed shuttle scattered around the area, smoking
and smoldering, and it takes him a few minutes of searching before he sees a
figure, prone on the ground, a short distance away.
Request: Bellamy an reader imagine where reader is pregnant with Bellamy’s baby after a drunken night an reader confess to him that its his an he wants to raise it with her but they dont tell eachother how they feel. Murphy is both their best friend and teases bellamy about situation cause he is the god father.Then one of the hundred tries to kill her an they confess. With fluff
A/N: hi I decided to make it as a grounder tries to kill her just because i couldn’t think of any reason or situation why one of the 100 would xoxo hope u like it
Today is the day it was suddenly real. For a while, the thought of having Bellamy had taken over your senses. You’re not sure if it was your survival mode kicking in, being on the ground and everything, or if you just needed to stop gawking over the 100′s leader.
You had wrestled with your inappropriate thoughts of Bellamy to the point that you actively avoided being alone with him. He didn’t notice much, but he could tell something about you was off. And he wanted to know what it was.
A/N: not gonna lie, i’ve been procrastinating on writing this, because i had a brain fart. fyi for all you new writers out there, maybe write an outline before writing something. would really help the process, just saying. besides that, enjoy!
You nodded at all of them, putting the pen in the pocket of
the pants you were given. You saw Hamilton’s face drop, and a small snicker
from Mulligan. You stood up, giving all of them a quick glance, finally landing
on Hamilton’s face.
“So, how am I going to get back home?” You asked the men.
Lafayette looked at the others, then shrugged.
“No idea, miss. Maybe we can create this machine you call a
moving paper that you research words on. How you say…?” He asked, waving his
“A computer. It’s called a computer.” You mumbled. “But you
haven’t even created electricity, and the first computer was in the 1900s. So
there’s no way that’s going to happen.” Laurens bit his lip.
“Electricity? What is this electricity?” Laurens asked,
looking at his friends for help.
“And you said 1900s. Does this mean that the colonies still
exist at that time?” Hamilton asked after.
“And why do you speak these strange words, are you trying
to confuse us?” Mulligan questioned, crossing his arms.
“I am very of the confused.” Lafayette sat on the stool
next to Hamilton’s desk, putting his head in his hands. “These English people
are more fusing than the empire.”
“fusing? Don’t you mean confusing?” You helped, and
Lafayette nodded. “Guys, I get it, it’s strange to hear about this stuff.
Honestly, I want to tell you everything, I do. But I don’t know what could
happen. I mean, I told you about a pen, and you guys thought it was witches-“
“That was Hamilton.” Mulligan pointed out, gesturing
towards the man. Hamilton looked at you shyly, glancing down at the floor. You
smiled at him, then looked back at Mulligan. He winked.
“That’s not the point I was trying to make. You see, even
mentioning these things can change the course of the world. I mean, I’ve
watched so many films about time traveling…” You trailed off, looking at the
perturbed men in front of you.
“Are you talking about something like Gulliver’s Travels?”
Hamilton asked, and you nodded, thanking him for the reference. “I want to help
you, Miss Y/N. Anything with what you might need, I am here to help you.” He
stared at you intensely, his eyes never leaving yours.
The five of you talked like this for a while, trying to
come up with the best ideas. Mulligan mentioned a gypsy that he “knew” the
other night, but you dropped that idea, not wanting to deal with any type of
magic. It just doesn’t seem realistic to you. Laurens had few ideas, one was
for you to pretend to be a man while you were staying inside the tent. You
denied that idea too, since it might make you fight in a battle you certainly
weren’t ready for. Lafayette did not have much to say, sometimes interrupting
your chats with random questions. Hamilton paced back and forth across the
tent, his hand under his chin and his eyes lost in his head. You admired how
hard he was thinking about this.
“How about this, Miss Y/N. You go to a fortune teller, and
they may be able to help you find out the answer.” Mulligan pumped his fist in
the air, happy his idea was chosen. You sighed, looking at his antics. “Listen,
this makes the most sense. Since this is, in fact, a supernatural occurrence,
we might need supernatural help. Even if it is a witch.” All the men shuddered
at the thought, besides Mulligan. He was grinning widely.
You told them earlier that they did not have to use miss
when addressing you, but they seemed to ignore your request, continuing to call
you this anyway.
“I have the woman’s address, if you want to write her a
letter.” You forgot that they did not have phones, and frowned. Sending a
letter would take too long, and you needed help as soon as possible.
“No, we go to her tonight. Miss Y/N needs help as quickly
as possible. There’s no time for waiting.” Hamilton replied, reading your mind.
He glanced over at you, as if he was asking if this was okay. You nodded,
touching his arm. He blushed at the contact, and you let go quickly.
Right, no touching.
“I agree, but we should wait until morning. You four must
be exhausted, and it’s been a long day. Especially for you.” You looked at
Hamilton. He nodded slowly, turning towards the men.
“Tomorrow morning at four we leave to the witch.”
“Gypsy.” Mulligan corrected, causing a glare from Hamilton.
They all began to walk out, but not before glancing over at me.
“Where is Miss Y/N going to rest? She cannot sleep in a
man’s tent.” Lafayette said. You shrugged, looking around for a blanket. You
saw one hanging up in the corner, and pointed to it.
“I’ll just sleep on the floor, not a big deal.” They all
gasped, shaking their heads quickly. They were all speaking at the same time,
and it was hard to understand everything that was being tossed back and forth.
You barely deciphered what was going on, and watched their ranting to each
Lafayette: No lady sleeps on the floor, not even in
the middle of a war.
Laurens: She can sleep in our tent, Laf. No one
would mess with her if she’s there.
Lafayette: That is the truth, Laurens. Our tent is
very safe for females.
Mulligan: The way you said that Laf made you sound
quite strange. And creepy.
Hamilton: What are you trying to say? She’ll be
just fine in mine! And she met me first, so she’ll be the most comfortable in
Mulligan: She could sleep in mine.
(besides Mulligan): NO!
“Okay, guys, okay! I’m standing right here, and you’re
ignoring me. Hello?” You tried to speak through their arguing, but they talked
You decided to grab the cover you found in the corner of
the room, beginning to make your makeshift bed on the floor. They didn’t notice
you creating the mat on the floor, but their arguing grew louder. You tensed
up, hoping no one heard what they were talking about exactly. After you took
one of the sheets from Hamilton’s bed, you laid on the ground, turning your back
to the men.
“Miss Y/N, right you’ll be fine in here, right?” Hamilton
said, noticing your figure on the ground. You were soon sound asleep, tired of
listening to their talking. Hamilton turned back to the men, smiling. “She’s
safe in here with me, friends. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” They all walked
out the room, Mulligan grumbling something about Hamilton always getting his
way. Hamilton blew out the candles in the tent, making his way to the cot.
He hated leaving you to sleep on the floor, so, while
making sure you were sound asleep, he picked you off the floor, placing you on
his bed. You mumbled something about cupcakes, he has never heard about cups being made into cake, and he pulled
the sheet on top of you, knowing that the nights grew quite cold around here.
He took himself to the floor, laughing softly at the
makeshift bed you created. You were very different, different from anyone he
has ever met. As Hamilton adjusted to the curve of the ground, he faced you,
watching your body lift and fall from the breaths you took. He was interested
in learning more about you, more about where you were from. Of course he wanted
you to go back to your home safety, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his
chest. He’s only just met you, and he wanted you to stay with him if possible.
He closed his eyes, dreaming of you and him sitting in the
tent, talking about nothing and everything.
Hamilton opened his eyes, their gaze immediately landing on
the empty cot in front of him. He scrambled off the floor, looking around the
room. You were no where to be found. He panicked, mentally slapping himself. He
should have slept in front of you, he should have been paying more attention.
Hamilton began to shake, scared of what might have happened to you. He heard the
tent door rustle, and looked towards it quickly. You walked in, wearing an
elegant dress. You smiled at Hamilton, and he sighed in relief, his hand
against the left side of his chest.
“Are you all right, Hamilton?”
“Y-Yes, Miss Y/N. I am fine, how are you, did you sleep
well?” You nodded, smoothing down the fabric. He was smiling at you, and you
wondered why he was so happy. He was scanning your figure, looking at your new
“I slept fine. You put me on your bed, did you not?” You
cringed at your poor attempt of speaking how they did in the 1700s. Hamilton
did not seem to notice, but his face reddened.
He was spitting out words fast, making your head hurt. “I,
I’m sorry for touching you, Miss Y/N. It is improper, and I should not have-“
“Whoa, whoa, slow your roll there, Ham. It’s fine, I am not
warning you not to do it again. I’m, I’m thanking you. Thank you, Alexander,
for lending me your bed for the night. I really appreciate your kindness.”
Alexander smiled at you shyly, looking down at the ground.
“There is nothing that I would not do to please you, Miss Y/N.” You laughed
nervously, playing with your fingers.
“Sorry to interrupt this very intense conversation, but it
is four, and we have to leave before rollcall.” Laurens said, peeking his head
in. He looked at you, and smiled. “You look beautiful, Miss Y/N!” You giggled.
“Thank you, John. Hercules picked it out for me.” You heard
a snorting in the background, and looked at Alexander, a forced smile on his
“Of course, it’s Mulligan, it’s always Mulligan.” Another head popped in, his curls pulled back,
except for one. You smiled at Lafayette, and he winked at you.
“Hurry up and get ready, mon ami. We have to leave.” You decided to let Alexander get
himself together, leaving him in the tent alone. You did not notice the jealous
glare when you mentioned Mulligan, or how his eyes stayed on your dress for a
little too long. Lafayette and Laurens hid you on the way to the tree where you
said that all of you would meet.
Laurens mentioned what type of relationship that you have
with Hamilton, and you just shrugged. “Nothing really, we did just meet
yesterday. I barely know him.” You replied, causing a snicker from the Irishman
leaning on the tree.
“Courting does not take that long, Miss Y/N. By the way he
goes after you, you may be engaged within a week.” Mulligan teased. You rolled
your eyes, shaking your head at him.
“I’m not gonna marry a man I’ve just met. It takes time,
like maybe a few years?” Lafayette widened his eyes at your response.
“Years? Miss, that’s very strange, I have never heard this
before. The longest time I have heard was a few months.” You shrugged your
shoulders. Being married in a few weeks? No way, that’s insane. Well, at least
it was to you. The strange looks that the three men gave you made you guess
that that was a very common occurrence. Hamilton finally came out of his tent,
without his revolutionary uniform on. You then noticed all the men were without
their uniform, wearing what you suppose was casual wear.
You all followed Mulligan to the woman’s address, the
friends laughing and joking along the way. There were few people up this early
in the morning, and the ones you saw gave you all strange looks, their gaze
mainly focusing on you. You felt like an outsider, covering yourself with the
jacket that Laurens gave you. After about a half an hour or so of walking, you
walked up to the woman’s house. Mulligan knocked on the front door.
Within seconds, a woman appeared on the other side. She
glared at Mulligan, hitting him on the arm. Mulligan cursed, backing up at
little from her. She was, very interesting. The ruffles on her sleeves cascaded
down to the floor, her dress long and wide. You glanced down at yours, thanking
the tailor that he gave you one less attention-grabbing.
“Sir, I told you to never see me again. Why are you on the
porch of my home?” She glared at the other men around her, her eyes finally
landing on me. “Miss Y/N, I’m sorry that you have to deal with these men,
especially him.” She nudged Mulligan.
How did she know your name?
“How did you know her name?” Hamilton asked, standing
slightly in front of you. You peeked over his shoulder, glancing at the woman.
She laughed, opening her door wider.
“This man did not lie when he said I could help you. Come
in.” All the men shared a glance with one another, then entered the home. You hoped
that she could help you get back home.
As part of his ongoing project to make labor visible, artist Ramiro Gomez creates paintings of the Whitney’s staff members at work in the Museum and gives these new works to his subjects.
Invited by Rafa Esparza to contribute to the installation Figure Ground: Beyond the White Field, Gomez spent time observing Whitney staff members—from janitorial workers to security guards—in the week leading up to the opening of the 2017 Biennial. Gomez recorded his observations in cell phone photographs. Using these images as the basis for paintings on pieces of cardboard, he returns to the museum with the intention presenting these artworks as a gesture of appreciation and respect.