#Attic Brand Media

[downthetubes]

A look back at the chequered history of "Merlin" magazine

[lowkeyrobin]

Platonic Ghostbusters x social media manager! Reader?

oooo hell yeah!! ; thanks for requesting and I hope u enjoy :)

GHOSTBUSTERS ; social media manager

summary ; you run the official ghostbusters social media platforms

warnings ; language

word count ; 746

masterlist

Podcast wanted to run the official Ghostbuster social media's but was quickly turned down at that. They needed someone who could actually be on top of that kind of stuff and whatnot. So, Stanz made a deal with Podcast that they'd get a social media manager, and he could act as their teammate with that, basically. Giving them ideas, giving them video clips and extra details, etcetera.

Most of the others didn't see a real reason for a social media manager, but as long as it wasn't their money.

Trevor offered to just do everything himself, but that was obviously turned down as well. The teens all agreed not to let the adults run the account either. They didn't need millennial - Gen X / Boomer humor flooding the whole account and making them look bad.

And that's where you came in.

surprisingly, Pheobe was the one to find you. she's seriously the most chronically offline person ever so the fact she ever opened Instagram was a miracle in itself

lots of talking back and forth and meeting the original four three ghostbusters to get input, then meeting callie & garry and the teenagers

you actually figured out that you used to be friends with Lucky as well, damn

you had managed social media accounts before, but you'd recently quit a few of those because of labor laws being broken so, yknow

you quickly formed a bond with Lucky, Trevor, and Podcast. you were kind of close in age to all three of them and they were all invested in the public image for the brand

setting the Instagram up was genuinely the funnest thing ever

the four of you were chilling in the living room in the firehouse (since sleepover stuff, pheobe was in her room reading) and you had your laptop in your lap and the three of them over your shoulders

the amount of laughing and cackling got some scolding from callie upstairs

it took everything out of you to not make the first post a video of trevor being soaked in Slimer's slime (which had been recorded by Lucky just by coincidence as they were investigating the attic again)

the first three posts, which were pinned, all lined up to be like a banner kind of logo with the theme song in the back, and they all played the same video, clips of the og ghostbusters and how they grew and then the new ghostbusters

the tiktok is its own thing, you allowed trev, lucky, podcast (and pheobe) to run it, but everything had to be ran by you first because pr shit

but thankfully no boomer humor or slang is ever being put on those accounts

most of those people don't even know wtf the internet is anyways lol

stanz has a personal vendetta against you /hj after you posted a .5 of him for relatable promo. he had no idea what you were doing but it was criminal that you made his forehead look so much more bigger than it already was

Winston gives you a bunch of old pics to post to trending angst sounds as well LOL

let's not talk about that tiktok where you, lucky, and trevor dance to/remake submissive and breedable by smosh ft bbno$, okay?

^podcast and pheobe were behind the camera cackling the whole time

lots of random pic posts on the insta as well because why not (most of them are the teens looking awkward, callie, gary & lars trying to look like cool scientists, or venkman, stanz, zeddemore & melnitz being classic, sassy old people)

the socials are never professional whatsoever, it's fun but it's not heavily controversial or obvious that you're there as a pr manager basically or just to manage the socials

like man they don't have the time to look at all the comments, take all the advice, reply to fans, etc

I mean that wage ain't that bad either LMAO

trevor is always bitching about how you make more money than he does /lh

you're not just a representative to them, you're actually family. you're just cool like that

"bro y/n is such a mc I hate them" and you'll reply on your personal w a "says you, reality shifter" or smthn LMAO idfk

always reposting ghostbuster edits / fanart etc because fandom culture 🙏

also I can't get over the fact the ghostbuster theme song is canon now either. yk damn well that shit is plastered everywhere thanks to you 💀

"do the ghostbusters respond??" "stanz said he loves your dog" "HELP HSEIJDLAKE"

10/10 experience

[henrysglock]

Henry is 7 — Unloved Boys, Killer Parents, and Non-Linear Time.

I'm not sure how many of us out there are up to date on our "media that features Captain Midnight" lore, but tonight I want to talk about Jeffty is Five, a short story by Harlan Ellison, as it relates to Henry Creel circa 1952.

Jeffty Kinzer and his best friend, Donny, were five. They were huge comic book fans, especially of Captain Midnight. But then Jeffty was five, and Donny was seven. After that, Jeffty was five and Donny was fourteen. You see where I'm going with this, no? Jeffty is perpetually five years old.

Because of his peculiarity, his parents resent him.

Jeffty's mother, Leona, specifically, dislikes him most...to the point she wishes he'd died as a baby.

Jeffty, for his part, is a good kid, despite the barely-hidden dislike he's shown. He has a secret hideout under the porch of his house, where he draws, reads comics, and listens to radio shows.

There's something strange about Jeffty, though (aside from the not-aging, and specifically linked to his not-aging). He can bring new pieces of the past into the future. Discontinued radio shows have new episodes, discontinued comics have new issues, and new merch is made for shows that no longer exist.

Specifically, Ellison writes about Jeffty bringing a brand-new Captain Midnight Secret Decoder Code-O-Graph into the future:

Donny talks about how living these new-past experiences via Jeffty thins the membrane between worlds, between Past and Present.

There's a problem, though. Exposing Jeffty to the Present eats away at him. In an attempt to hurry Jeffty away from the Present, Donny sends him off by himself to get tickets for the movie they're meant to see. Along the way, Jeffty gets roughed up by some older teens. Instead of taking him to a hospital, Donny takes him home to his parents.

Spotting the chance to take back a normal life and live in the present...Leona kills Jeffty in the family bathtub, playing present-day rock music over the radio.

Now, something I was struggling to answer in my big Time Loop Post was the question of "What happened in 1952, when Henry was 7?"

Jeffty, Joseph and Joseph, Henry and Henry: Changelings

Jeffty's now-grown friend, Donny, misses the way things were in the '50s, when he and Jeffty were little. He'd like things to go back to the way they were...

...and he gets that through Jeffty's time-bending powers.

Jeffty has a hideaway spot in his family home where he hides away from his resentful, fearful mother to draw, read comics, and listen to the radio:

Jeffty, whose mother wishes he'd died as a baby because he's precluding her from having a "normal" life...

And who killed him in a bathtub.

Another detail to add—Patty asks Henry if he isn't a little old to be as obsessed as he is with Captain Midnight, as if being a fan is something for little kids.

I'd like, then, to put this is all in concert with:

The Creel-Carmichael parallels per Changeling (1980), wherein Joseph, a disabled boy who's resented by his father, Richard, is locked away in his attic. Richard drowns Joseph in a bathtub at age 6, and replaces him with a "normal" boy. This "normal" boy is mostly convinced he's the real Joseph Carmichael until the end of the movie.

2. Em's Doppleganger TFS Henry theory (which suggests that at some point Henry was replaged with a dopple-gorgon who almost believes he's the real Henry Creel). 3. Em's post about Before I Wake (wherein a little boy drowns in a bathtub and is replaced by a new boy with strange abilities). 4. (A post I have yet to make, regarding) Parallels between ST and the show Servant, wherein a new mother accidentally kills her newborn son, Jericho, by forgetting him in a locked car during a heatwave. She's given a hyperrealistic baby-doll as a replacement in order to cope, which their nanny Leanne magically transforms into a real baby boy. ST5's code name is Jericho, and other parallel to the series include (but are not limited to): psychic powers, spiders, stalker cults, murderous yet somehow well-meaning nannies, and giant cracks opening up in the earth (psionically).

Thus, my hypothesis: I wonder if we aren't dealing with a matryoshka-doll-meets-Fringe type situation, wherein Henry died/was killed at age 7, was replaced by or swapped for another boy (like Peter Bishop...staring directly at Peter Owens/Peter Ballard) via the 1979/1952 incident, and then was swapped again with a doppleganger via the 1956 gate.

[cathchicken]

A lost media deep dive featuring: creepy animatronics in my grandma’s basement

For as long as I can remember, these two hairy robot musicians have haunted my dreams:

As of recent though, I wondered: where did they come from? I assumed they were some off-brand junk, perhaps even some sort of Sesame Street knock-off, but I took a closer look and I found these:

At the bottom of their chairs, it references “The Robot Factory” (real original huh) which originates somewhere in Colorado. I tried my best to find that company online, but I hadn’t any luck.

Thankfully, a kind used on Reddit did uncover something though: a website that documents the robotic adventures of David Coleman, whom have made many other robots in the 60’s (link: https://cyberneticzoo.com/robots/1969-commander-robot-david-coleman-american/#comment-30958)(sorry link won’t work for some reason)

Hm, doesn’t that look awfully familiar??

I did some more digging and asked my grandpa where he got the robots. He said they were gifted to them, as they originally belonged to a department store called Hess’s. Hess’s was known for their animatronics/puppets, and the most popular show featured a character called Pip the mouse

My grandpa further explained that the two singing robots were called “Fraggles” (also spelled Fragle), and would originally be seen displayed in the store singing songs. But since Hess’s was soon sold off to a different store, the fraggles were no longer needed.

Now, have I found physical evidence that the two are truly connected? Well, I actually do!

I was allowed to search around in the attic of my grandparents house, and we found the original boxes the fraggles were transported in!

And, on the side of this box was this sticker:

Huzzah! The connections are true! It appears these fraggles were indeed David Coleman’s creation. What does this mean? They are probably gems, that’s for sure! The other robots belonging to David seemed to be pretty popular (starring with the Jackson 5/featured in a playboy magazine, etc). I also found it odd that the fraggles haven’t been mentioned anywhere online, so this is the first time they are being properly documented!

I will upload more photos soon, but hopefully you will find this mildly interesting!

[4acesofspades]

answer every single question on that ask game you reblogged xD

Welp, you asked, so here goes nothing..

(It didn't number right, but the questions are still labeled right)

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? 

Spotify

is your room messy or clean?

Pretty clean, sometimes there’s clothes on the floor

what color are your eyes?

Blue 

do you like your name? Why?

Not really, it’s way too common 

what is your relationship status? 

Married

describe your personality in 3 words or less

Old fashioned weirdo

what color hair do you have?

Natural blonde

what kind of car do you drive? Color?

Silver Honda Accord 

where do you shop?

Mostly Walmart 

how would you describe your style?

Cheap and changes depending on my mood. Sometimes it's sundresses and sometimes it's leather jackets.

favorite social media account

Like type of social media?  Or specific account?  My favorite type is probably tumblr but I don’t have a specific favorite account

what size bed do you have? 

I share a queen with my husband but in my room (yes I also have my own room) I have a twin 

any siblings?

One sister 

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? Why?

Maybe on the border in the us to help with the refugee crisis

favorite snapchat filter? 

I don’t use filters 

favorite makeup brand(s)

I couldn’t tell ya.  My mother in law buys my makeup. 

how many times a week do you shower?

Whenever my hair gets unmanageable

favorite tv show?

Ho boy, Leverage or Emergency! Probably 

shoe size?

8.5 women’s

how tall are you?

5 foot, 7 inches

sandals or sneakers? 

I have tanline stripes on my feet lol, definitely sandals.  But cheap, comfy ones

do you go to the gym? 

If I’m actively training for a race, then yeah.  Otherwise I hate it.

describe your dream date

On our honeymoon we got to stay in a (supposedly) haunted mansion in New York.  It was amazing.  Also it would be awesome to like, go through someone’s attic or something? 

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?

I have a bunch of culver’s coupons?

what color socks are you wearing? 

None, I’m wearing sandals :) 

how many pillows do you sleep with?

One

do you have a job? what do you do? 

Nope, I’ve been looking for 5 months and haven’t found anything in my field, but I would love to work for a nonprofit.

how many friends do you have? 

Not many.  I have a few acquaintances I met in college, a couple good friends from high school, and some of my husband’s friends that I consider good friends as well

whats the worst thing you have ever done? 

Cut my best friend out of my life in order to get rid of another (toxic) relationship.  Regret it every single day. 

whats your favorite candle scent? 

There’s these Fir tree or whatever candles they sell around Christmas that smell just like the holidays and they’re my favorite

3 favorite boy names

Mason

Cameron

Eliot

3 favorite girl names

Eleanora

Rosalind

Kalia (Ka-lee-a)

favorite actor? 

I don’t really have one lol. I like the guy that plays Eliot on Leverage, and I like the guy that plays Johnny on Emergency, but I don’t really follow celebrities too much. 

favorite actress? 

See above 

who is your celebrity crush?

Despite my previous statements, I have a massive crush on Cote de Pablo. 

favorite movie? 

Idk if I could choose just one! Encanto and Moana for disney movies, McFarland, USA and The Outsiders for other movies, National Lampoons Christmas Vacation and 

do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? 

I read quite a bit.  I couldn’t possibly choose a favorite book, but the most influential has been The Latehomecomer by Kao Kalia Yang

money or brains? 

Brains, always.  You can get along without money but not without brains 

do you have a nickname? what is it? 

My dad calls me flounderlips and squidlips and flapjoint.

how many times have you been to the hospital?

Couple times for migraines.

top 10 favorite songs

Currently? Or of all time?  We’re gonna go with currently as the list changes constantly. 

 Best Bad Habit by Danny Warsnop 

 Quiet as a Rat by Amigo the Devil 

Coat of Many Colors by Dolly Parton 

We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel 

Godmanchester Chinese Bridge by The Howl and The Hum 

Outlaw Pete by Bruce Springsteen 

A Symptom of Being Human by Shinedown 

Sometimes on a Sunday by The Glorious Sons 

Sing for the Common Man by Dolly Parton 

The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon Lightfoot  

do you take any medications daily? 

Yeah I take migraine meds twice a day and vitamins at night

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)

Idk, normal? I’ve never really thought about it 

what is your biggest fear? 

Amounting to nothing, probably.  I’m also pretty claustrophobic 

how many kids do you want? 

3

whats your go to hair style?

I have curly hair so wash and scrunch. Usually it’s in a ponytail or lazy bun 

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) 

Big old house built in 1925.  

who is your role model? 

I don’t have a specific role model.  I try to pull bits and pieces from all different things in life- favorite authors, people I meet, tv shows, parents, teachers, and friends, etc. 

what was the last compliment you received?

My husband told me my novel idea was incredibly original. 

what was the last text you sent?

I told my friends I don’t like frosted cookies as much as I used to. 

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?

1st grade

what is your dream car? 

1967 Chevy Impala SS Coupe. I have indeed put much thought and research into this.  I would also be interested in a 1967 Shelby Cobra but I’ve never even seen one in person

opinion on smoking?

If you’re going to smoke I’d rather you smoke cigarettes around me than vape.  Idk but vaping really gets under my skin. 

do you go to college? 

Graduated December 2022

what is your dream job? 

I want to work for a nonprofit in their immigration department helping immigrants and refugees settle in and work through their transition to America.  Would also be interested in someday working as an immigration lawyer 

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? 

Rural.  Our town has about 3000 people.

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? 

I used to but I don’t anymore. 

do you have freckles? 

No

do you smile for pictures?

Yes

how many pictures do you have on your phone? 

1062

have you ever peed in the woods? 

Many times

do you still watch cartoons? 

All the time.  

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?

Never had Wendy’s nuggies and I don’t really like McDonald’s 

Favorite dipping sauce? 

Fun fact, I don’t like any dipping sauce. 

what do you wear to bed? 

Shorts and a tshirt 

have you ever won a spelling bee?

HA good joke

 what are your hobbies?

Writing and music 

can you draw? 

Not even a little 

do you play an instrument?

Flute, clarinet, saxophone, and I’m learning guitar 

what was the last concert you saw? 

Nothing More last year 

tea or coffee?

I like both 

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?

Neither 

do you want to get married?

Been married over 2 years 

what is your crush’s first and last initial?

My husband’s name is Daniel ;) 

are you going to change your last name when you get married? 

Yup, it was a pain in the butt 

what color looks best on you? 

I like dark red on me

do you miss anyone right now? 

Yes, my best friend in high school 

do you sleep with your door open or closed?

Door closed, I watch a lot of Emergency and am paranoid of housefires 

do you believe in ghosts?

Kind of

what is your biggest pet peeve? 

When somebody’s turning left and the person behind them can’t wait 2 SECONDS for them to turn and they speed around them on the shoulder

last person you called`

My daddy 

favorite ice cream flavor? 

Chocolate

regular oreos or golden oreos? 

For knockoffs, golden.  For name brand, regular. 

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? 

Rainbow

what shirt are you wearing? 

I’m not, I’m wearing a sundress. 

what is your phone background?

Nate and Eliot from Leverage being dorks 

are you outgoing or shy?

I’m really shy until I get to know people 

do you like it when people play with your hair?

Depends on the state of affairs.  If it’s already a mess I love it, if I just watched it, you’re risking your life by touching my curls 

do you like your neighbors? 

Yeah they’re nice. 

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?

At night

have you ever been high? 

Nope

have you ever been drunk? 

Nope

last thing you ate? 

Salmon

favorite lyrics right now

From Quiet as a Rat by Amigo the Devil: “Time doesn’t respect what doesn’t respect it/ And kind isn’t a word I would use for man/ If everyone’s made in his image and even he couldn’t perfect it/ Then what the hell makes anyone think we can”

summer or winter? 

Summer for sure. I live in Wisconsin 

day or night? 

Day. I like the sun 

dark, milk, or white chocolate? 

Dark 

favorite month? 

I like May and June, but also September and October 

what is your zodiac sign

Aquarius 

 who was the last person you cried in front of? 

My husband 

[newmusicradionetwork]

Tony Evans Jr. “Yours”

“Suppose you’re a social media-aware country fan. In that case, you know that for the past three years, Evans has existed to a frequently commenting fanbase as a handsome, magnetically sensual and smooth crooner.” This is what Nashville’s paper of record, The Tennessean, recently wrote about TONY EVANS JR. The buzzed-about baritone is a 26-year-old Georgia native and introspective romantic with a ‘smooth country’ sound who’s enjoying a groundswell of support from press and peers. CMT called him “one of country music’s most popular independent artists,” while Sounds Like Nashville praises the “up-and-coming singer with a classic country voice” and Wrangler observed he’s “making waves and gaining fans with his blend of the traditional country style and the energy of a young artist.” Most impressively, he’s been ‘discovered’ online by a who’s who of musicians -from R&B queen Keyshia Cole to Toby Keith, Mickey Guyton, and Luke Combs. While boosted by their support, three million likes, and half a million TikTok followers, Tony is more than just a content-maker. He’s also building his country cred the old school way, playing intimate rooms – Georgia’s famed Eddie’s Attic, Eddie Owen Presents: Red Clay Music Foundry, Nashville’s The Listening Room, and a debut at legendary Bluebird Cafe – with resonating authenticity. “I want everything I do to feel intimate,” the 24-year-old Georgia native says. “If I don’t feel it, there’s no way I can make you feel it.” For Evans, music runs in the family and his pursuit of music began early. By 10, Tony was proving that he was serious about music and signed with a small Atlanta label at age 12. Around that time, he discovered the music of John Mayer and Brad Paisley- two musicians acclaimed for their guitar prowess. “Room For Squares made me fall in love with songwriting so much that I started writing my own,” Evans recalls. ‘And Brad Paisley’s This Is Country Music album was a favorite when I was a kid. I know every song in order. That’s the album that made me think, ‘I’ve got to sing country music.” Five years later, Evans moved to Nashville, dreaming of a career in country music, at a time when few faces in the format looked like his. But he persisted and now, Now, Tony Evans Jr. is creating his own brand of country music in the lineage of Glenn Campbell, Paisley, and Mayer – it’s country with contemporary ideas and classic styling. “These songs are ME,” he says. “They’re things I experienced, like the nuances of loving relationships as well as complicated situations. People cheat, people lie. People can be bad to each other, and I’ve written songs about that. But I really love love songs because love is real but it’s complicated.” “Now I’m writing the music that I’ve always wanted to write,” he says,”but the way I do it is different, and I hope listeners feel my intent through the songs. I think a lot of my story is going to be told with what happens next and I’m truly grateful for all the support I’ve received from every direction.” Additional Artist/Song Information: Artist Name: Tony Evans Jr Song Title: Yours Publishing: Aneva Music Publishing Publishing Affiliation: BMI Publishing 2: Farm Thang Music Publishing Affiliation 2: BMI Album Title: Yours Record Label: Aneva Music Group Record Label: Aneva Music Group, LLC Karl Washington 678-984-1463 Radio Promotion: Alan Young Promotions / KES Network Karvin Johnson 312-479-3575 kesmusic@aol.com Manager: M.A.R.K. Management Karl Washington 312-321-6256 kesmusic@aol.com Booking Agent: 312-321-6256 kesmusic@aol.com Read the full article

[ritika99]

Top 10 Features Every Dream House Should Have

Creating a dream house is all about combining luxury, comfort, and personal touches that make a home truly special. While everyone’s vision of a dream house may differ, certain features tend to be universally appreciated. Here are the top 10 features every dream house should have to make it a perfect haven.

1. Open Floor Plan

An open floor plan is a highly desired feature in modern dream homes. It creates a spacious, airy environment by merging the kitchen, living, and dining areas into one large, connected space. This design encourages family interaction and is perfect for entertaining guests.

2. Gourmet Kitchen

The kitchen is often considered the heart of the home. A gourmet kitchen should be equipped with:

High-End Appliances: Think stainless steel, energy-efficient models from top brands.

Ample Counter Space: Plenty of room for meal prep, ideally with an island or breakfast bar.

Custom Cabinetry: Stylish and functional storage solutions.

Quality Materials: Granite or quartz countertops, hardwood floors, and a beautiful backsplash.

3. Luxurious Master Suite

A dream house isn’t complete without a master suite that offers a private retreat. Key features include:

Spacious Bedroom: Room for a king-size bed and additional seating.

Walk-In Closet: Ample space for clothing and accessories, often with custom organizers.

En-Suite Bathroom: A spa-like bathroom with a soaking tub, walk-in shower, double vanities, and high-end finishes.

4. Outdoor Living Space

Outdoor living spaces extend the comfort of your home to the outside. Popular options include:

Patio or Deck: Perfect for dining al fresco or relaxing.

Landscaped Garden: Beautiful greenery that provides a peaceful environment.

Swimming Pool: A luxury feature for relaxation and entertainment.

Outdoor Kitchen: Ideal for hosting barbecues and outdoor parties.

5. Home Office

With remote work becoming more common, a dedicated home office is essential. It should be:

Quiet and Private: Away from the main living areas to minimize distractions.

Well-Equipped: Plenty of desk space, good lighting, and necessary technology.

Inspiring: Decorated to boost productivity and creativity.

6. Smart Home Technology

Integrating smart home technology enhances convenience, security, and energy efficiency. Consider:

Automated Lighting and Climate Control: Adjust settings with a smartphone or voice commands.

Security Systems: Cameras, smart locks, and alarms for peace of mind.

Home Automation Systems: Control various functions like window shades, music, and appliances remotely.

7. Home Theater or Media Room

A home theater or media room is a fantastic feature for movie buffs and entertainment lovers. Essential elements include:

Large Screen and High-Quality Sound System: For an immersive viewing experience.

Comfortable Seating: Recliners or plush sofas arranged for optimal viewing.

Acoustic Insulation: To ensure sound quality and minimize external noise.

8. Ample Storage

Adequate storage is crucial for maintaining a clutter-free home. Look for:

Built-In Shelving and Cabinets: In living areas, bedrooms, and bathrooms.

Pantry and Laundry Room Storage: For kitchen and household essentials.

Attic or Basement Space: Additional storage for seasonal items and bulk storage.

9. Wellness and Fitness Area

Health and wellness are priorities for many, making a home gym or wellness area a must-have. Include:

Exercise Equipment: Treadmills, weights, yoga mats, or whatever suits your fitness routine.

Spa Features: A sauna, steam room, or hot tub for relaxation.

Natural Light and Ventilation: To create an inviting and energizing space.

10. Customizable Spaces

Flexibility in design allows your home to adapt to changing needs over time. Examples include:

Multi-Functional Rooms: Spaces that can serve as guest rooms, hobby rooms, or playrooms.

Expandable Areas: Rooms that can be repurposed or expanded as needed.

Outdoor Structures: Sheds, greenhouses, or studios that offer additional functional space.

A dream house is a reflection of personal taste, lifestyle, and aspirations. By incorporating these top 10 features, you can create a home that is not only beautiful and functional but also a true sanctuary. Enjoy the process of designing your dream home, and make sure it includes everything that brings you comfort and joy.

[angelwoodpictures]

Angelwood Pictures to unveil new logo, and website design on Dec. 27

After nearly 15 years of producing incredible work, Angelwood Pictures is marking its continued progress and transformation with a comprehensive rebranding that includes a revamped logo and a new tagline.

After serving as a consultant and working on productions such as “Luna, The Witch,” alongside founder/creative director Seth Chitwood – Mark Anthony Hardy has been promoted to Executive Producer of Angelwood Pictures.

In conjunction with the Angelwood catalog recently purchased by Tubi to stream exclusively in 2024, Hardy proposed the idea of rebranding Angelwood Pictures for its bright future ahead.

“Hesitant to the idea, Seth had his reservations as the existing creative and branding was his “child” of creativity when establishing the company in 2009,” Hardy said.

“Having to convince him to see the value in a rebrand, I broke down the reasons to rebrand which included but certainly not limited to; where the company is now in comparison to what it was before, where he’d like to take the company and future projects, and properly telling the Angelwood Pictures story.”

With this, Hardy was able to pursue Chitwood in starting the rebranding process. After several interviews, questionnaires, and rounds of creative review, Hardy developed a tagline that embodies the heritage of Angelwood Pictures’ past and the vision for the future – “Untold Journeys Through Film."

As Angelwood Pictures moves forward with its planned productions for the next few years, it will not forget the journey it’s taken to get here with titles such as “Lungs: The Series,” “Family Problems,” “World’s Worst Director,” “The Girl in the Attic” and “Eyes.” 

“It has established a legacy and heritage that will continue for on with new ideas, projects, and stories,” Hardy said. 

After several months of hard work, Angelwood Pictures is now in partnership with Hardy’s company Tulip & Stone Media and is ready to announce publicly a new era of Angelwood Pictures. 

“And I think Seth and I are on our way to a great creative partnership,” Hardy added.

[thebrownaura]

Unveiling the Perks of Owning a Brown Aura Leather Journal: 5 Benefits to Explore

Intro: 

In today's digital age, where we heavily rely on electronic devices, the art of writing has somewhat lost its charm. However, true aficionados of pen and paper understand the unparalleled joy and satisfaction of documenting their thoughts on a beautiful leather journal. Brown Aura, a distinguished brand known for crafting exceptional leather goods, has brought to life a collection of leather journals that seamlessly blend style, elegance, and functionality. In this blog post, we will delve into the wonderful world of owning a Brown Aura leather journal and explore the five remarkable benefits it offers.

1. Enhanced Creativity and Expressiveness:

In a world cluttered with distractions, it can be challenging to tap into our inner creative selves. However, when we jot down our thoughts, ideas, and aspirations on paper, something magical happens. The tactile experience of writing with a pen on the velvety smooth pages of a Brown Aura leather journal allows our thoughts to flow effortlessly. The tangible connection between our mind and hand fosters creativity, inspiring us to express our deepest emotions and ideas in an uninhibited manner. Be it sketching, doodling, or writing stories, a leather journal becomes your personal haven to nurture and explore your creative side.

2. A Timeless Keepsake:

Imagine stumbling upon a dusty box in the attic years later, only to unseal it, unveiling a beautifully aged leather journal, reminding you of the memories, accomplishments, and emotions you penned down. A Brown Aura leather journal transcends time, becoming a cherished keepsake that holds the power to evoke nostalgia and reminisce about the past. As the leather journal ages gracefully, it becomes a testament to the journey you undertook, capturing every milestone, aspiration, and heartfelt sentiment. Whether you choose to pass it down to future generations or keep it as a treasured memento, a leather journal becomes a profound symbol of your personal growth.

3. Improved Organization and Focus:

In a world oversaturated with screens and notifications, it is easy to succumb to digital clutter and lose focus. However, the simple act of writing in a leather journal helps declutter the mind, allowing you to organize your thoughts and boost focus. Brown Aura leather journals often come with a sense of organization that provides a sense of clarity and structure, making it easier to set goals, track progress, and prioritize your actions effectively.

4. Disconnecting from Technology:

In today's hyperconnected society, we spend a significant time of our lives staring at screens. The incessant notifications and constant digital engagement can be overwhelming, leaving little room for self-reflection. A leather journal gives an opportunity to unplug and disengage from technology momentarily. Instead of scrolling through social media feeds, flipping open your trusty journal enables you to spend quality time with yourself. Savor the silence, embrace the solitude, and let your thoughts unfurl on the pages, providing a much-needed digital detox and a sanctuary for self-discovery.

5. Unparalleled Personalization:

One of the most enchanting qualities of a Brown Aura leather journal lies in its versatility and ability to be truly personalized. From choosing the design, texture, and color of the leather to opting for monogramming, every aspect of your journal can be tailored to your taste. Such personalization not only adds a touch of sophistication but also fosters a unique emotional connection between you and your journal. Knowing that this carefully crafted leather-bound companion is solely yours, imbues a sense of ownership and pride that enhances the overall journaling experience.

Conclusion: 

Owning a Brown Aura leather journal is an invitation to infuse magic into the mundane, rediscover the joy of handwritten notes, and nurture creativity. The benefits are plentiful - from enhancing creativity and expressiveness to providing a timeless keepsake, improving organization, disconnecting from technology, and enjoying unparalleled personalization. So, if you seek a haven for self-expression, reflection, and inspiration, it's time to invest in a Brown Aura leather journal and unleash the remarkable benefits it brings to your life.

Don’t know how to use a leather journal?

Read this: Unleashing Creativity: 10 Inspiring Ways to Use a Leather Journal

[atticsalt-2]

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Sexy Dress Suggestion From Attic Salt’s Wardrobe

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[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 24 - was still listening while having a hell of a long hair dying session xD

"I’ve never understood why people would find grown men in stupid make-up and wigs funny. Or scary. It’s the same with the dolls." - Same.

"Despite it being the middle of summer, the loft was cool, almost cold." - Ah yes, physics seem to work differently in TMA, cold attics and hot basements in summer… xD

Awww, Sasha! I really liked her voice. I actually switch between both of their pronunciations of calliope, but leaning more on the Sasha pronunciation. Not that I need that word often..

"This one still had its jaw as well, and I swear it looked just like Josh." - Yes, it's time for "this reminds me of horror media soandso" again! This time: Fact or Fiction. There was a story about a family father who was sleep walking. And every night he would walk further and further away until one night, he didn't come back. But their daughter had a brand new doll in her dollhouse and - even getting the pajamas right - it looked exactly like her father.

"two strong-men, a ringmaster and an organist sitting behind a calliope" - We know those guys^^

Yeah, for me personally this statement is rather on the weak side.

This one is just here to clown around 🤡

[amor-immortalem]

Replaced

Genre: Heavy Angst, Angst with a somewhat happy ending.

Warning: The following piece is my take on the replaced! au with Arella. Dark themes lie ahead. If you are triggered by feelings of abandonment, suicidal ideation, or outright suicide, this mini fic is not safe for you to read. Please continue at your own discretion.

A/N: I did it guys! I actually managed to break myself with this mini fic by digging into my own abandonment issues. It was fun- cathartic almost. Please enjoy! Also, spoilers for the lesson 16 incident.

What does it feel like to be replaced? If you were to ask Arella, she’d say it felt bitter and painful. Like someone was holding a white-hot branding iron to her stomach and pushing it in to the point it ate through all the layers of her skin and was now searing through her stomach or like someone was rubbing salt into a open, festering wound.

When Diavolo had announced to the other student council officers that a new exchange student would be joining their ranks, Arella was excited- especially when she found out the new student was a female- there was only so much Arella could talk about in a house full of men and one genderless individual that they would understand, all of them having been assigned male at birth and whatnot. So, another woman among their ranks would be a breath of fresh air for her. And it was for a time being- until the brothers had taken favor to this new human.

It started within months of this new exchange student arriving. One by one, her favorite demons started hanging around her more often. It wasn't like Arella could be mad at them. This human was novel and oh so different from Arella. She was everything Arella was not, from her blonde hair to her well-developed body- even her height, which matched closer to the brothers. She was everything human world media told a girl she should be. She even looked like she fit in with them- having taken to the Devildom like a duck to water even without being able to use magic.

Arella wants to be angry with this girl, but she can’t. This girl, named Melissa, was so sweet it was almost enough to make Arella sick. She was smart, innocent, and -above all else- selfless. It was apparent the boys adored her immediately. One by one, Arella was losing them to the charms of this new girl. The first to go was Satan, clearly smitten by her love of books and knowledge of obscure but very talented authors. The second to go was Asmo, often taking her out to clubs or on long shopping trips that often lasted well past curfew. And just like that the other brothers started to follow suit. Game nights between her and Levi? Gone. Drawing up budgets with Lucifer? Not anymore. Going out with Beel to cafes? Not in her wildest dreams. Naptimes up in the attic with Belphie? Hah! Fat chance. The last and most painful to pull away was Mammon- her first man. The one who swore he would always be there for her when she needed him. And oh how she needed him.

Just like when Arella had first come to the Devildom, Mammon was given the task of watching over Melissa by Lucifer. At first Arella tried to justify it as Lucifer worrying about the girl’s safety as even though his brothers had gotten better at controlling themselves, they still had their moments.

As time went on however, she started to notice the little things. Missed movie nights between them, date nights often forgotten about in favor of showing Melissa his favorite spots around the city, the loss of any physical intimacy. Soon, he stopped seeing her all together. Things that she and Mammon did together were now reserved for Melissa: casino trips, movie nights, pranks on Lucifer that would have the eldest chasing after them, running around the city until it was nearly what could considered to be the Devildom’s equivalent of dawn. She knew he was completely gone when she walked down to the dining room for supper one evening and overheard them just casually flirting. Mammon didn’t even make any attempts to dissuade Melissa’s advances. He remembered he actually had a girlfriend, right? Right?!

Or were they even a thing anymore? It had been months since they’d spent any substantial time together outside of classes and even then, he’d moved seats to sit closer to the new human. He’d either ignore her texts or straight up just ghost her altogether. As she listened to them, she had to push down the possessive tendencies that tried to force their way out of her. She pushed them back down into the flimsily locked box they had always been contained in and burying them down in the deepest parts of her mind, forcing herself to accept that she was no longer wanted- no longer loved by the family she thought she’d found. She returned to her room for the rest of the night and for the first time since the initial weeks after arriving here on her first visit, cried herself to sleep.

The next time she interacted with any of the Avatars, it was Lucifer ordering her off to school telling her that she had better not be late and tarnish the good name Lord Diavolo and the exchange programme. Arella only nodded and promptly left the house, not even bothering to finish her morning cup of tea. The walk to school was lonely, Mammon had left earlier with Melissa and it was then, with a broken heart, Arella decided she would leave them all to their new toy. They wouldn’t bother her. They didn’t need her. At least she had Solomon and the angels, didn’t she? No, it didn’t seem to be the case either judging by the mass of unanswered texts.

As she entered class, Arella took her usual seat only hoping Mammon would choose to sit with her for once, would just choose her for once in general. But it wasn’t meant to be. Of course, it wouldn’t. Why would he bother to choose her when there was someone who was much better for him than her? Someone who wasn’t selfish or possessive or... or... worthless... She subtilty looked over her shoulder to watch as they cracked jokes and laughed together and she felt tears pool in her eyes- heart aching at the thought that she would never have that again and the sweet memories she’d made with the demon. The spot she once saved for him was now taken by another demon.

-------------------------------------------------

Two months more of this- it had been eleven since Melissa joined them. None of the brothers even looked Arella’s way anymore- often forgetting she lived in the house with them in the first place. When she tried to reach out to any of them it was Melissa needs this or Melissa and I are doing this, so she just stopped. She stopped eating, stopped taking care of herself save for basic hygiene needs. No one came to check on her. There were no texts, no calls, nothing. They’d gotten all they wanted out of her and now she was like a cast aside doll. She thought about reaching out to any of them but decided against it. They were demons and she was just an insignificant human. It's not like they actually cared and Arella was a fool for allowing herself to entertain the thought.

She should just go home. But where was home? The human world held nothing for her to return to. Sure, she had that degree in biochemical engineering to fall back on but after having a taste of true happiness, would she even enjoy a life doing that? Maybe she could just go back to her original plan. The plan she had made when she first signed on to the exchange programme. 23 years was certainly long enough to experience everything life had to offer, right? She always did tell herself if the year on the exchange programme didn’t work out, she’d end it all. The idea was sounding more and more appealing by the minute.

With her mind made up, Arella swung her legs over the side of the bed. A smile was painted on her face. Her cheeks stained with tears; emerald-green eyes bleary from all the crying she’d done over the past two months. No one would miss her. They left her- abandoned for the better human like she was an unwanted pet. What did she expect though? No one ever stayed. No one ever cared. No one ever loved her enough to begin with. She was always thrown away like the trash she was after her purpose was fulfilled.

With what little strength she could muster, Arella stood as she uttered a spell and a portal opened. She gladly stepped through it, finding herself in her childhood home as it closed- a place filled with nothing but suffering and pain for her. What a fitting place for her own painful end.

“Hello, Mum, Myles... I’m... home... Isn’t it lovely... that you were right after all? I’ll be with you... soon...”

-------------------------------------------------

Missing his call on her D.D.D. was the first thing that Mammon noticed. He knew he hadn’t been the best boyfriend ever since the new human arrived and the demon felt guilty for that. He’d put so much energy into helping Melissa get a date with his younger brother that he hadn’t realized how much time had actually passed- how it had been almost a year since he’d done literally anything with his girlfriend. She was probably pissed at him and rightfully so. Now that he had actually looked at his calendar, there had been so many planned dates and movie nights he had missed with her and all he wanted to do was make it up to her somehow. She probably thought he didn’t want her anymore which couldn’t have been further from the truth. He missed her- missed hanging out with her, missed the dumb jokes they would crack and the laughter that followed, missed the pranks they would play on Lucifer that often ended up with them strung up from the ceiling together. He missed the late-night cuddles and having her tucked up under his arm at night as he held her close. The bed they had once shared was considerably colder now that she was no longer there.

Mammon made his way down to her room. That was the only place she could be. Arella never left her room anymore. She always left for school earlier than anyone else too, choosing to skip breakfast outright, so Mammon couldn’t even catch her to talk then. He thought about reclaiming his seat next to his human but every morning he found her chatting up another demon that had taken his old seat. He often felt his possessiveness spike most during those times but did he even have the right to feel that way after neglecting her for the past eleven months?

As he drew closer to her room, he could see Beel knocking at her door, asking if she’d like to go visit that new café she had mentioned a couple weeks ago. When there was no answer, the Avatar of Gluttony would frown, unsure if she was just asleep or just actively ignoring him. That was the second sign something was wrong. No matter what happened, at the end of the day, Arella was always happy to entertain their whims.

“She’s not answerin’ ya, is she?” The second-born asks as the sixth-born shakes his head, looking like an abandoned puppy on the side of the road. “I’ll go in ‘n see if she’s awake. I have to talk to ‘er anyway.”

Beelzebub nodded as he left back to the kitchen- likely to eat his hurt feelings away. None of them really had the right to feel this way after they’d just ghosted their favorite human though. As he opened the door, Mammon stopped dead in his tracks. She wasn’t there, her phone lay on the bed lit up with missed texts from Asmo and Levi.

Immediately, he took off for Lucifer’s study. If anyone would know her whereabouts it would be Lucifer, right? The family patriarch had the uncanny ability to know exactly where every resident of the House of Lamentation was at any given time so long as they were still in the Devildom.

-------------------------------------------------

After considering her options, Arella was left indecisive. There were a number of ways she could end her own life. She wouldn’t lie, before the exchange programme she would fantasize about the many ways she could kill herself. Would it be by hanging like she found Myles? Or perhaps she could slit her wrists like her beloved mother. If the car in the garage still worked, carbon monoxide poisoning was a valid option too. There were sleeping pills up in the medicine cabinet- a large handful of those would definitely do the trick... Ah choices, choices. As she smiled to herself, the human wondered if any of the brothers had noticed she wasn’t in the house anymore. The chances were unlikely as they were all too busy with their new human but if they had, who was it?

Would it be Asmo, Levi, Belphegor? Surely, it wouldn’t have been Mammon. He’d long since moved on, probably enjoying the start of a new relationship with Melissa. It hurt that he couldn’t have been bothered to even break up with Arella in the first place. What happened to forever? Had it all been the honeyed words of a liar?

She shook her head. It was best not to think too much on it but she still couldn’t help it. Once she was gone- once their pact faded away- would he regret this? Would he regret losing the person who loved him so unconditionally that it was almost embarrassing?

With her mind made up, Arella grabbed a knife from one of the drawers in the kitchen and carried herself up to the master bedroom where she had found her mother four years prior. As she lie on the bed, she pressed the knife to her wrist deep enough to cause substantial bleeding. She drags the blade up her arm, watching as the crimson liquid gushed from the from the wound. She thinks it’s beautiful- a fitting end for a vile creature such as herself.

-------------------------------------------------

“Lucifer!”

“What, Mammon?” The eldest didn’t even bother to look up from the ever-growing stack of paperwork on his desk.

“Did Arella have plans tonight?” The Avatar of Greed asks as his brother finally looks up at him.

“Not that I’m aware of, but I also haven’t seen her all day. As her mate, you should know, shouldn’t you? As far as I’m aware, Arella hasn’t left the house and is still in her room probably practicing her mag-”

In that moment, both demons felt a sharp pain shoot up their arm as if someone had taken a knife and was drawing a line up the inside of their arm. The same pain was radiating from the places where their pact marks were located. Mammon clutched at his chest as he fell to his knees, the symbol representing his girlfriend radiating with pain that reached down to his heart. If the screams of the others were anything to go by, they felt the same thing.

“She’s not in her room!” The white-hair demon manages to gasp out. What scares him most is that he can feel their pact fading away.

Lucifer’s heart leapt up in his throat as the realization hit him. It wasn’t her practicing magic that he had sensed earlier, it was her casting a spell. She opened a portal to the human world and had gone through. He now realizes the mistake they’ve made as he remembers back to the confession she had made to him over a year ago one night when neither of them could sleep and opted for a late-night cup of tea. She had told him that he and his brothers had saved her life that first year during the exchange programme. That if things hadn’t worked out so well, she had planned to take her own life. Back then, he thought nothing much of it since the problem had resolved itself. But with how they had essentially pushed her aside in favor of Melissa, she would have felt unwanted bringing the suicidal thoughts back full force. They had to get to her and fast before it was too late.

Always fast on his feet the eldest, opens a portal of his own, knowing of only one place she would go to take her own life. Both brothers would hop through, landing in the dusty house with a thud. The smell hit them faster than either of them could process it. Blood. And a lot of it at that.

Mammon was the first to scramble for the stairs while Lucifer made a break for the phone, having forgotten his D.D.D. on his desk in the rush to get through the portal. The second-born knows the layout of Arella's house too well, having been here with her multiple times before this. Back in better times when she knew just how much he loved her. As the smell of fresh blood grows stronger, he finds her resting on the bed, a smile on her face as the knife lay between her body and the arm that was still slowly losing blood.

Faster than a flash of lightning, the demon tore his belt off and was on the bed immediately. He took her arm, fastening his belt around the upper part in a tourniquet to stop the blood flow. He shook her frantically, tears spilling down his face freely.

“Arella! Arella! C'mon, baby, wake up! Please!” His voice came out in a scream and he could only vaguely hear his brother speaking on the phone with emergency services. “We’re sorry! Don’t leave us! Don’t leave me!”

With every passing second, Mammon could feel her life slipping away through the pact that was still searing his heart. This was the price of his actions- of all their actions. Her blood was on his hands, literally. He should have done more. He should have been there. He could have called or texted or even just picked up the damn phone when she had called him, but instead just like the blood that had slipped from her arm, the Avatar of Greed let her slip through his fingers. She was gone and there was no bringing his human back this time like they had when Belphie threw her body down the stairs after he’d strangle her to death. He and his brothers had spent all that time protecting her from other demons but they couldn’t protect her from themselves.

Once the EMT’s got there, the demon stepped back from the blood-soaked bed in a state of shock- a state of disbelief. There was nothing they could do for her now. She had no pulse, no signs of life. He dropped to his knees unable to believe that his human was truly gone. His throat felt tight as more tears came. He was only just able to register the feeling of the Avatar of Pride’s embrace as they cried together- something they hadn’t done since the fall, since Lilith passed.

The two demons were informed that the coroner would arrive to collect her body shortly as they left the room. Slowly they got up, Mammon taking her body in his arms as he fought back the urge to sob. The pair returned to the House of Lamentation with Arella’s body in tow, cradled carefully in her mate’s arms. As they stepped through, they were met by their brothers and Melissa. Even the Angels, Solomon, and the Royals were there waiting.

“She’s gone,” The eldest’s voice cracked as a pained grimace formed on his face, more tears slipping down his face. Mammon couldn’t even lift his head to look them in the eyes as the crying, wailing, sobbing started.

“We didn’t deserve ‘er.” The second-born chokes on his tears, feeling utterly broken inside. “We did this to ‘er. All... All seven of us did this... She reached out to alla us ‘n we ignored ‘er.” He’s the angriest with himself.

The prince and his butler only watch on, tears in their eyes. Diavolo remembers all the good times they’ve had with Arella. The way she made the lives of the Avatars better, the fun she brought to the student council meetings, the beautiful light she’d brought to the Devildom. She’d made such an impact on the lives of all of these demons and angels. As selfish as it was, Diavolo didn’t want to let any of that go.

“Bring her back, Barbatos.” He orders and his loyal servant steps forward.

“Place her on the ground, Mammon.” Barbatos says calmly, almost as if he’s done this a thousand times and for some reason the Avatar of Greed obeys the order.

Once she’s on the ground, the green-haired demon pulls open her mouth and takes Mammon’s hand in his, producing a dagger and slicing the white-haired demon’s palm tipping it to side and allows the blood to drop into Arella’s mouth. As the crimson liquid flows down her throat, the effect is immediate- Arella's body convulsing violently before she gasps for breath as the gash along the inside of her arm heals.

Everyone- demons, angels, and humans alike- stare wide-eyed at the scene. Lucifer looks up to his longtime friend in disbelief. He had just...

“Let this teach you all a very painful lesson. I’ve given her life as a demon, do not take this chance for granted. You will not get it again. She needs rest for now, but in a day or two, Arella will reawaken.” The prince’s voice is stern as he peers down at the former human who would now become a very powerful demon. “Treat her right this time.”

It’s with that that Diavolo and Barbatos take their leave. The rest was up to the brothers now to care for her and right the wrongs they’ve made.

-------------------------------------------------

Next

The Bad Ending

Find more on my masterlist

[itsmeevie01]

A Moment in Time: Ch 6

MASTERPOST

At dinner, Gina regaled them with stories of her adventures with Jason. When Tom expressed his surprise at some of the things Jason had tagged along on the Gotamite laughed.

“you do know the only reason Bruce got me was because I was caught stealing the tires off the Batmobile, right?” Marinette choked, snapping to lock eyes with her mother.

“I told you he did something stupid.” The woman laughed in agreement, while Tom studied the young man in front of him.

“who did you say adopted you Bruce Something?” Jason rolled his eyes.

“Bruce Wayne. Gotham’s resident billionaire, and the collector of lost children.” Marinette narrowed her eyes.

“This wouldn’t be the same Bruce Wayne that the entirety of the media has decided I’m either dating the son of or am the newest child of, would it?” Jason laughed.

“yup defiantly the same Bruce. To be fair, he’s been on a quiet kick with the adopting thing. We think he’s planning something. And, in my defense, the only reason I knew what was going on was Tim came into my apartment simmering in anger that the press was stalking him again[Jd1] .” He paused, “oh and I went to pick up one of the tabloids so that I could immortalize his shame and was met with your face.” Here he turned to Marinette. “if they hadn’t run that story, I may never have seen you again.” The watery smile that he was met with made him smile. Gina spluttered.

“Bambino! Do you really think I would have let you go without meeting my family! Honestly!” Marinette giggled, while her mother rolled her eyes.

“let’s go back to the Batmobile for a moment. What were you going to do, just leave a note after taking the tires? Write a quick thanks and leave?” Sabine’s humor quickly lightened the atmosphere as everyone laughed.

“no, actually. I was going to leave a red chrysanthemum.” Jason’s response made Marinette break into giggles.

“you were going to leave my sign? Jason!” the rest of the table looked around, clearly lost. Taking pity on them, Marinette went on to explain. “the red chrysanthemum is my favorite flower. It’s also one that we were able to get ahold of easily in Gotham. Jason always called me his Chrysanthemum because it means hope. He called my Chrys when we were with other kids so that I was harder to track. He literally called me his hope for years. It’s also why,” here she looked her grandmother dead in the eye, “they are the symbol for my brand.” The older woman tossed her head back in a laugh.

“Only you, Marinetta. Only you.” Here, her Nona focused her attention to Jason. “although I’m surprised I didn’t put it together sooner. After all, that is Jason’s favorite flower.” The young adult turned red. “he even has it on his keychain.”

The entire family all turned to smile at Jason.

After dinner, Jason and His sister climbed the ladder to the attic. Jason glanced around as his sister closed the trap door. The grey walls were covered with pictures of who he assumed were her friends. There were designs interspersed, and above the desk, a corkboard was filled with designs. A dress form was next to the desk, a grey dress pinned onto it, partially done. A chaise lounge and a collection of bean bags were over in the corner, and there were lights strung along the walls. His sister moved to lean against a ladder that led to a loft.

Now that they weren’t with the others, Jason could see her mask slipping. Tears started to tumble down her cheeks again, and Jason strode over to the small girl. “I gotcha. I’m here.” His sister clutched his jacket and buried her face in his shirt. Jason simply held his sister as she cried once again. Eventually, she looked up at him, her blue eyes still watery.

“Can we go to the balcony? I…” he squeezed her shoulders.“of course. You lead, and I will follow you. Anywhere.” A small smile was sent over his sister’s shoulder at that, and the girl climbed up the ladder. At the top, she fiddled with something in the roof. Then, there was a shift, and a small hatch above her bed flipped open. She lifted herself out of the hatch and gestured for Jason to follow.

When he poked his head out onto the roof, Jason was met with a sea of lights and the city around them. A moment later, he was leaning against the rail, while his sister curled up on the lounge chair. “I’m sorry.” Jason’s head whipped around to look at her, shocked.

“Why are you sorry, sis? You have nothing to be sorry for.” The small girl shook her head, staring out over the city.

“I…I left you though. I should have tried more to get back. I should have-”

“No. hey, kid.” she continued to stare over the city, fear obvious on her face. It hit Jason like a truck, as he studied her. His sister was scared that he would blame her. She was scared that he would leave her. She was resigning herself to taking the blame for a situation that she had no control. “you were FIVE. You couldn’t control what happened. Hell, even when I was older, I wasn’t able to do anything.” Jason pushed off the railing and squatted in front of his sister. “we were given the short end of the of the fucking stick as kids. Our lives are a mess, but in the end…” the small girl shook her head, blue meeting blue as they locked eyes.

“but…Jason. I don’t. I don’t deserve this. I-I’m just me. I just have…I’ve been given chances and opportunities. But I-” Jason reached out and laid a hand over her clenched hands. She looked down in surprise before releasing her hold on her hands.

“you have always been smart, creative, and kind. Life dealt you a shitty hand, and you have blossomed under the care of Tom and Sabine. You are becoming a strong, beautiful, talented young woman.” She narrowed her eyes, objection clear on her face, when Jason shook his head. “don’t think I didn’t notice the designs in your room. Those aren’t amateur.” His sister shook her head.

“but I left you. I left you and you were all alone. And I know that there’s a police report with your death on it! It was later revised, but it was there! for years. And- and- you were hurt. And I know that if you know Nona, then you weren’t safe when you two met. And it’s all my fault because I wasn’t there.”

Guilt hit Jason like a brick, settling in the pit of his stomach. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His sister blamed herself for something that she shouldn’t even know about.

“how did you know about that?” his sister’s hands started to shake, and she gripped her forearms.

“Are you mad?”

“no…sis, I…that file is buried deep in the GCPD database. The only person who can really access it are the bats. Bruce asked them to literally burry that information.”

“I hacked the GCPD years ago. I wanted to know if you got brought in. And then…one day, that…that file came up. It was horrible. I didn’t tell anyone what happened, and when they asked me later…I just told them that you were dead. I didn’t…didn’t explain.” Jason wrapped his sister in a hug and held her tight.

“you hacked the GCPD?” she tensed.“yes. I promise I-”

“that’s fucking badass, kid. I have a friend who hacks, all the time. She would probably love to see what you’ve done.” She glanced up, surprised.

“really?”

“of course.” She smiled and fidgeted happily for a minute. Then, the smile slid off her face, and she stared down at her hands.

“it’ll never happen though.”

“what? Why do you say that?”

“you hate me.” Jason jolted, staring down at his sister.

“what.”

“you hate me.”

“yeah no. I heard ya, kid. I just don’t know where the fuck you are getting this idea from.”

“Jason. You won’t even say my name! downstairs you did, but now…you won’t even say my name.”

“fucking hell kid. I- that’s not- that is not- of course I don’t hate you.” She snorted her disbelief obvious on her face.

“you don’t have to pretend Jason. There’s only the two of us up here. You don’t need to spare my feelings.”

“no, kid. You don’t- That’s not it. I just…you. Your name changed. I didn’t want to…it’s your name, whichever you choose but. I- I don’t want …I don’t want to call you Chrys if you don’t feel comfortable with it anymore. I don’t want to call you Marinette if that’s not who you are. I just-”

“oh” suddenly, Jason was knocked backward, his arms suddenly full of his sister. “I didn’t. I. thank you.” He held her close, and stayed there, knocked back on his ass, his sister in his arms, and the Paris skyline surrounding them.

His sister shifted eventually, turning her blue eyes on him. “I don’t care what you call me. As long as you don’t leave.” Jason smiled, relief flooding his system.

“never. Never again. I promise.” She smiled and leaned against him. the siblings stayed in their hug, blocking out the outside world for just one more minute. Eventually, Jason could hear Sabine call for them down below. Resignedly, he separated himself from his little sister. As they approached the trap door to return to the house, she turned to him and smiled;

“I do like the name Marinette. It’s given me a new start.” Jason smiled at her.

“of course, M. I think it’s a very pretty name too.”

His sister, Marinette, lit up.

A/N hey! how are we? questions? comments? concerns?

we are catching up with my AO3, so updates may not be as long soon. if you've read the companion pieces, do they make sense with the story?

see you soon!

TAGLIST:

@moonlitceleste @redscarlet95 @ultimatetornshipper @mochegato @liquid-luck-00 @maskedpainter @trippingovermyfeet @nathleigh @m0chick0furan @susiej1118 @t1dwarrior-of-earth @sassakitty @remy-289 @laurcad123 @iamabrownfox @corporeal-terrestrial @girl-in-thechair

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬4

Warnings: nonconsensual touching, fingering, deceptive behaviour, allusions to abuse.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Note: I haven’t updated in a minute but I got the yen to come back to Arvin so here we go! Also working away at my gif requests which are super fun :)

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The fight echoed in your head as Arvin buttoned up the front of your dress, although a few were missing. He helped you to your feet and you leaned on him heavily, barely able to see ahead of you, let alone support yourself on your shaky legs. You climbed the stairs as your mind passed through a tunnel of shock. You didn’t realise you’d even left the living room until you were lowered onto the bed.

Arvin sat beside you, his hand on your shoulder as he spoke softly. You didn’t understand his words as you turned your face away and tears trickled down your tender cheek. You weren’t sad that Roy was gone, you were embarrassed that another had seen what you let him do to you, and terrified of the nice man with the pistol. 

Was he really so nice? You barely knew him at all and he’d had a gun under your roof. Sure, Roy had a rifle but that was for hunting. You couldn’t say or even try to imagine why Arvin had a handgun.

The lamp clicked off and the end of the chain clinked against the long stem. You laid in the dark, not daring to move, and after hours of dazed disbelief, you dozed off, your back wracked with pain from the tension and awkward position.

You woke with a stiff neck, a swollen face, and a weight in your chest. You sat up slowly and held your forehead as the bed shifted. Arvin dumped an armful of Roy's old flannels into the open suitcase at the foot of the mattress. You blinked and rubbed your eye as you leaned on one arm. You yawned and stretched your shoulders.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

"I'll see him today," he said as he pulled open the chest of drawers and grabbed the stained and torn denim from within, "make sure he stays away for good."

"What? Arvin," you bent your legs and crossed your arms over your knees, "he's my husband."

"He didn't act like one," he continued to toss Roy's clothes haphazardly into the bag, "he beat you!" He stopped and put his hands on his hips, "he never talked to you nice and…" he stopped and shook his head and closed the suitcase. He zipped it up with a sigh, "I heard him that first night. I figured, you weren't my wife, I could live with it. Well, I can't. You deserve better than him."

"It's not that easy. I can't just toss him out--"

"No, I did," Arvin insisted, "and I'll keep him out."

"You shouldn’t have done that. Last night. He'll be mad."

"So?" Arvin hauled the bag off the bed and dragged it to the door. The bottom of his shirt moved and revealed the butt of the gun sticking out of the top of his jeans.

"Are you gonna make sure with that?" You asked as you turned your legs over the side of the bed, "you can't just shoot him, you know that, don't you?"

"Of course, but he doesn't know I won't," Arvin looked back at you, "I'm gonna make breakfast then head out… how's your head?"

"Feels like there's a rock in my temple," you groaned and stood, "I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"No one but you, huh?" He challenged, "Look, I won't hurt him, I promise, but I also won't let him hurt you."

You neared him meekly as you hugged yourself, "why?"

"Because you do," he said, "because if you won't save yourself, I will. I have to," he looked down at his scuffed shoes, "I seen too many girls, too many women, hurt in my life. I ain't that old, you know? But I can't stand no more."

You watched him go and listened to him descend the old stairs. You frowned and flinched as you glanced around and caught a glimpse of yourself in the antique oval mirror your mother had left behind all those years ago. You looked as bad as you felt, worse; you couldn't help but be comforted by Arvin's concern, in fact, it felt good to have someone who cared about you.

🚬

It was hard to concentrate that day. Even a chore as simple as the dishes or sweeping the floors took twice as long as usual as your mind strayed to the night before and fears of what was to come.

You tried to convince Arvin to leave the bag there but he wasn’t folding, not like you. You admired him for that, but at the same time it made you squirm. Something had changed. He was no longer the sweet young man staying in your attic, he became the indomitable and angry man waving the gun around as he spoke about killing others without so much as flinching.

You remembered what he said. He’d killed a man before, or was it men? It wasn’t like you had anyone who could or would help you. You doubted Roy would come back even if you wanted him to, and on that front, you just couldn’t be sure. He was your husband and it was improper to put him out but let another man sleep under your roof.

The only woman in town who’d dared divorce her husband was Carmen Dolan and there was no where in town she went where people didn’t whisper about her; at the store, in church, and even on the sidewalks. It didn’t matter that her husband was sneaking around or that he was little better than Roy in his manners. It was a small place and people had too much time to talk.

Well, how many friends did you have there? Noreen couldn’t be called as much and all the girls you knew in school were married and too busy to keep up those old teenage ties. You could bide them at the sewing circles, they never were very nice, and you went to church out of obligation not out of a need for that ridiculous shallow socializing of housewives. Besides, you’d failed at all that, hadn’t you?

Then you began to worry. What if Roy flipped and hurt Arvin? Or Arvin hurt him? The suitcase would hardly be taken with a thanks. If Roy was ashamed enough he might just grumble and ignore the other man for the rest of the day, but if he wasn’t, he might just pick up where they left off last night.

You were hanging out the washing when a faded old Chevrolet drove up the dusty drive. You squinted past the stiff jeans as it steered closer and the engine stopped. Arvin climbed out and jingled the keys as he went around the other side. He took out a paper bag and crossed the yard.

“How was your day?” he asked with a smile.

You stared, dumbfounded. How could he act so… normal?

“Wh--what happened with…” your voice trailed out and you unclipped a pair of his jeans.

“Roy? Oh, he took his things and tucked tail after lunch,” he scoffed, “he didn’t look too good. Probably didn’t feel good neither.”

You nodded and dropped the jeans into the basket and tucked the pegs into your pocket. He crinkled the paper bag and stopped you from reaching to the next pair.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You shook your head and stepped back so that his hand fell from your arm.

“I know last night was-- hard. I only did what I had to, not anything I wanted to,” his brows drew together, “here.”

He held out the paper bag and you eyed it warily. You chewed your lip and he stepped closer.

“Please, it’s, uh, I want you to have it,” he said, “you deserve it and maybe it is an apology. I went a little far but… I don’t regret it. Roy got what was coming.”

You took the bag and he tucked his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t have to get me nothing,” you said.

“Like I said, I wanted to. You do all the hard work here,” he replied, “and I’ll finish this up.”

He reached up and took down the next pair of pants and put them in the basket with the rest. He moved down the line as you watched him, the bag under your arm. You didn’t move, just watched. You looked over at the Chevrolet and frowned.

“Where’d you get the car?” you asked.

“Used,” he said as he folded a shirt in half and dropped it into the basket, “they had it down at the shop for a while now and I told the boss to take out installments from my next few checks. He didn’t mind much, he ain’t been able to get rid of it. Some work to be done but--” He lifted the basket and neared you, “you didn’t look yet?”

“Inside,” you said, “I didn’t wanna just leave you out here with all that.”

You nodded to the laundry and he pointed you toward the house. He followed you up onto the porch and through the screen door. He stopped to slip off his shoes and continued on after you into the living room. You put the bag down on the end table and uncurled the top.

You pulled out the large square and held up the record. The man who stared back at you had sparkling blue eyes and black hair. Elvis Presley smiled as if it was all a funny joke.

“There’s more,” he said.

You set down the record against the arm of the couch and reached into the brown bag again. You pulled out the fabric and a finely tailored pink dress in the latest style unfolded before you. You stared as he neared and he took the bag from the table. He revealed the last piece from the bag and set them down on the carpet, a pair of brand new heels.

“Why did you do all this?” you shoved the dress at him, “I can’t accept it.”

“You can,” he stepped back, “and just so you know, I’ll be paying my rent to you direct now.”

He sidled past you and took the album from the couch. He went to the record player and slid the vinyl from the sleeve. He carefully placed it on the player and lined up the pin. He turned back to you and crossed the room. He pulled the dress from your hands and let it slump over the couch cushion.

“Do you know the shimmy? I could show you? It’s the new thing,” he said as he took your hand, “you just move your hips, bend your legs a little, keep your arms out like this.” He moved slowly at first as he drew you into the middle of the room, “just with me, to the rhythm.”

“I can’t,” you protested, “really, I’m not a dancer.”

“Me neither, but it’s fun,” he tugged on your hand, “come on.”

He sang out of tune as he kept his hips moving. You watched him and tried to copy him, hoping to placate him long enough that you could escape to the kitchen. The dress, the album, the dancing, it all felt so wrong.

As the song ended, he brought you close and wrapped you up and slowed down. He swayed you with him as the record kept spinning. His eyes clung to yours.

“He didn’t know what he had,” he said.

“Arvin, I gotta start supper,” you whispered as you pushed on him, “please.”

“I got you the new dress so we could go to the drive-in,” he kept you against him, “Friday night. You like Audrey Hepburn?”

“I… haven’t seen much of her,” you confessed, “Arvin, really, the ham--”

“He’s not coming back,” he released you reluctantly, “I told you. I told him.”

“He’s still my husband,” you crossed your arms and looked down.

“Is he? He never treated you like his wife.”

“It’s the law--”

“Divorce him. You’ll keep the house, it’s yours. Your daddy left it to you.”

“And do what? I can’t afford it on my own--”

“You got me.”

“You won’t stay here forever,” you uttered.

He didn’t say anything and narrowed his eyes. He shrugged and turned away. “You have options and Roy is the wrong one,” he said, “you can’t hate yourself that much.”

You barely heard him and didn’t know how to respond. So you didn’t and left him to Elvis’ soft tones as you went to pull out the honey ham. You still had some of your sweet mustard left in that jar from last year or maybe the apple sauce. It was easier to focus on the food and not the madness of men.

🚬

The nights and days drifted by like sand in a glass. Whenever Arvin was there, even when he was in the attic and you were below, you were painfully aware that it was only the two of you in that big house. You weren’t afraid for yourself really, he hadn’t done anything to you. You should hate Roy for how he’d been to you all those years but you didn’t want to be the reason he got hurt.

But as the time went by, it was also harder to tell Arvin no. You never thought anyone could be overly helpful, especially after Roy’s indifference, but you were overwhelmed by his presence. He was always lurking around when you least expected, watching you, waiting. He always offered to finish the chore or kept you from doing it entirely. You should be thankful but it made you feel more guilty than anything.

When Friday came, you carried on your usual routine. You were mopping when the Chevrolet pulled up. He’d spent the night before with his head under the hood. He said it wasn’t too bad for the price and the repairs were minimal and none so urgent. 

The car door closed then his steps walked up onto the porch. As he entered the house, you hit the mop against the wall and kept your head down, swiping back and forth against the wood. He didn’t dare to step past the threshold and mess your clean floors.

“You should finish up and get ready,” he said.

You looked up at him and feigned ignorance. You hoped all day he would forget about the movie. You didn’t want to wear the dress, it made your wedding ring chafe just to think of it. You focused again on the mop and kept back stepping away from him. 

“Maybe not tonight, Arvin,” you said, “I’m tired.”

“You don’t have to work yourself sick,” he leaned against the doorframe, “really. You can always just take a day and… relax.”

You put the mop in the bucket and rested it against the wall. You took a deep breath but didn’t look at him.

“I don’t think we should go at all.”

He sighed and rubbed his cheek, “Really? Roy hasn’t even tried to come back. Hasn’t even tried to apologise. In all these years, did he ever once say sorry to you for anything?”

“Maybe not but I married him. I made that decision and I have to see it through.”

“Not like that,” he tutted, “besides, it’s just a movie…”

“Just a movie,” you repeated and walked over the drying floor, “alright then.”

He watched you and the thoughts wrinkled on his forehead. He let you go as you grabbed the railing and ascended the stairs. You felt his eyes on you, even after you turned down the hall, as if he could see you through the walls.

“We got time,” he called up, “no rush. It’s not even close to dark but I don’t want you to worry about… all this.”

You didn’t reply and closed the bedroom door. You sat on the end of your bed and clasped your hands. You still felt terribly trapped. You didn’t think so much of what Roy would say, he always said the worst. You thought about your father and how disappointed he would be. You knew he wouldn’t have let Roy treat you so bad if he was still alive, but he would still be sad if he knew how it all worked out.

🚬

You hadn’t been to the drive-in since you were going steady with Roy. It was a singular occasion and an unpleasant one. He got drunk and couldn’t drive home so you had to get behind the wheel and pray you didn’t crash. It wasn’t that you couldn’t drive, you just hated it. Thinking of it then, you should have expected all that came after.

Arvin pulled in as the sky dimmed slowly and he left you to go to concession and grab popcorn. When he returned, he handed you a box of chocolates as he cradled the large paper bag of kernels. You thanked him and opened the box, distracting yourself with the chewy caramels covered in milk chocolate. You offered him some as you looked around and waited for the screen to flash into motion.

There were a few families among the patrons but mostly teenagers, couples and groups, rowdy as they impatiently hollered for the film to roll. You hadn’t heard of this one, Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Arvin said he read about it in the paper and it was supposed to be a flick meant for ladies. He said he didn’t mind as he liked the actors.

When at last it was dark enough, the movie began and you set the box down on the seat and munched on a handful of popcorn out of courtesy. The credits began and you were quickly swept up into the life of Holly Golightly. You were almost agog to think that a woman could live like her. City life seemed so different, so free, so scary. And she didn’t let all those men rule her.

You felt Arvin slide closer to you and his arm snaked around your shoulders. You tensed as you focused on Hepburn’s waifish voice and offkey plucking of the ukulele. You tried to ignore him as you felt his warm breath and the kiss on your temple made you wince. Your eyes flicked over to the car on the other side of you, then the next. The audience was rapt.

His hand grazed along your skirt and he kissed your cheek. Your heart raced wildly. You wanted to stop him but didn’t know how. And he was so sweet and he did so much for you. He’d brought you all the way here and kept Roy from cracking your head open. Could you really say no?

“I know I said it already,” his hand lingered on the pink fabric, “but this looks wonderful on you.”

“Thank you,” you whispered as you kept your wide eyes on the screen.

“Really, you’re beautiful, honey,” he purred as he nuzzled your throat, “living so close… it’s hard…”

He pushed his hand under your skirt and up between your thighs. He wiggled until you parted your legs and grabbed your chin with his other. He turned you to face him and crushed his lips against yours. He leaned on you until you were flat against the seat and he brought your legs up onto the leather as he held himself over you.

He kissed you even deeper as his fingers tickled over the front of your panties and crawled up to the top. He slipped his hand down the front of your underwear and you whimpered. When he touched you, you were afraid but confused. It felt good, better than anything you’d ever done with Roy.

You gulped and turned your head as you gasped. You grabbed his shoulder and shuddered. His fingers delved between your folds and swirled. You murmured and squeezed his arm.

“Please, I’m-- I’m still married, we can’t--”

He nibbled at your neck and blindly reached up to grab your hand. He gripped the ring on your finger and forced it off and flicked it away. It rolled under the seat as he rasped against your throat.

“He’s gone,” his fingers danced around your clit eagerly, “don’t you understand? I’ll make sure he doesn’t come back, honey.”

“Arvin, I--” you squeaked as the waves swelled and flowed down your legs and you were caught in the tide, “please…”

You closed your eyes, your mind stormed with how wrong it was but your body pulsed with delight. He pushed his fingers further back and the heel of his hand pressed to your bud. He curled his fingers inside of your and you moaned as he rested the weight of his pelvis against his hand. He rocked his touch in time with his hips, as if he was fucking you, and kissed you on the mouth again, swallowing up your desperate cries.

Your legs wrapped around his as you came and you tilted your pelvis as you rode the high. He lifted his head to watch you orgasm and your lashes fluttered as you succumbed to the ecstasy. You squirmed as he slowed his fingers and stilled his hand entirely. You were out of breath as he stopped at last but kept his hand nestled between your legs.

You covered your face with your shaky hand and exhaled deeply. He pulled your hand down and rubbed the tip of his nose against yours.

“I’ll buy you a new ring,” he purred, “a nicer one.”

[titoist]

the way in which i process memories, their recollection & subsequent reverberation into the present - 'nostalgia' is, i suppose, as good a word for it as any - has always felt...intensely compromised, in some sense. not only in how i come to recollect those memories, but how those memories come to *be* in the first place, how they are branded and remembered. it feels as if...i am incapable of experiencing emotions, or actions, or moments of serenity, without then, subsequently, imagining my retroactive narration of it for the sake of documentation, or gauging its value as a *memory*. a constant superimposition of the future upon the present, which subsequently shifts that present into a past against my will and better judgement. walking down the street and thinking of how i could theoretically describe my gait in juxtaposition to the shade of the tree, seeing the foliage through the window and beginning to imagine - almost immediately, with only a nod for brief reprieve - how its aesthetic evocation could lend well to making the present come alive in the future. it sounds silly, absurd, even. i suppose one can label it as a side effect of what i like to call the 'colonization of the mind' that social media has sourly brought me. unable to go on a walk without a passing rock triggering an association and making me remember a viral thing or the other - when all i wanted to do was half a silent outing with the trees. okay, i am sounding jumbled... for example; i moved my water bottle to the side of my bedframe. it was a relieving change - i haven't had the water bottle in that exact location since...i would say january of last year, with the young barrister's stuffy office, the random morning ecstacy, & the beatles' 'mean mr mustard'. & i can feel, distinctly, rather than recall, that i haven't had the water bottle in that corner since specifically that time. having the water bottle in that corner has the utility of reprising a feeling of that time, but the longer i keep it there, the more its roots will shift to this present time - this is part of how i think about memory & evocation of memory. one has the aim to fill their present with objects, or things, that scatter, through the past that those presents continually become, as adequate crystallizations of irreplaceable feelings of those times. they serve the utility of letting those feelings echo forward, & this engenders a kind of richness that feels like its own reward. nostalgia. but that utility cannot be, itself, realized without first diluting a thing’s place in time each time it is done, shifting it forward in time marginally, reappropriating its association to the present. so despite the preservative tendency of the practice, the forward motion is still inexorable. & it is a kind of game of selective preservation, sparing recall, making decisions about the restrained rationing of investments in memory that have been made. this, in the past, and i suspect even now, has driven me mad beyond reprieve. a desire to preserve the past as clearly as possible, with frightening resolve, avoiding the reliving of any past memory or association - the way that the sun used to reflect from the glass on the balcony, the lighting of the old kitchen at exactly 1:20pm on a tuesday in 2019, eating with my hands on the small table in the middle of the room and feeling like most things are right with the world. keeping them all untouched and preserved, like the dusty furniture in an attic, avoiding all external stimuli if need be, living like a hermit if need be. crafting present moments, with surgical accuracy, so that they can serve as maximally enjoyable as a *future* memory to preserve - all so as to avoid their unstoppable shifting towards the present. i suppose i did it, and still do in some regards, out of an inalienable sense of...vague obligation towards the past. the way in which things were forgotten frightened me, deeply. i wanted to remember everything, every detail, as much as i could. i would write more, but tumblr apparently has a text limit now.

[gashousegables]

Hi! I was wondering for a long time now, but do you, as a Writer, should be in sync with your writing and real life values and views? Or it can contradict?

For example, if we talk about real life, MY personal life, I am all for healthy romantic relationship (although I, as multi-linguistic person, kinda yuck about this word. Very generalized for me. But I digress,) and all, but as a writer? I LOVE ambiguous characters, I love “You are my reason for existence” type of love, I love bloodsuckers or killers who find their redemption. Or people with toxic patterns who grow to be better people. Like, all this dark staff, you know? For example, there is this one woman, Maya Mehrotra, from an Indian thriller, who was super obsessive due to her traumatic life, and she was manipulative and a killer no less, and still I cried when she killed herself, because she lost everything, and I still remember her. What Im asking your opinion of, is, do your moral values as a person have to align with your “morals” as a media consumer/a writer? Or is it ok when they dont? Do you ever have had this dilemma as a writer?

FIRST of all - thank you for calling me a writer! <3333

Second of all, I don't know how to answer this question fully ... in my own opinion, I think fiction is fiction is fiction is fiction, yknow? You can write about almost whatever you want, morally. In fact, write about really fucked up stuff! A lot of literary sickos got branded for heresy so you can enjoy a little immoral bullshittery. I'm right there with you on the obsessive love part - it is almost a given that you can be ENTERTAINED by things you wouldn't necessarily WANT in reality - that's exactly why fiction exists babyyyyy

It's a lack of nuance that has people acting like you ARE what you write, and if you don't condemn explicitly every wrong or grey area of your characters it's pRoBlEmAtIc

There are always personal lines that you won't cross for yourself - I couldn't read Flowers in the Attic or Lolita or much of V. C Andrews because I have my own problems with sexual violence and CSA. So I also wouldn't write about it. But that doesn't mean that those novels aren't important. BUT it also means that CP doesn't exist in a special 'it's ART' bubble either. Nuance nuance nuance I'm 3 years into a Sociology degree gimme another three and I'll write you a thesis LMAO.

But there are moral lines I definitely think are a lot more important - like I'll never read Eleanor and Park because I hate racial fetishism ... but I still read Twilight, didn't I.

Ultimately, free will means you get to create and enjoy whatever art you please. Just means it doesn't exist in a vacuum and some puritans are gonna hate on you.

To me, my fiction isn't self-reflection (and if it is that never getting posted anywhere). Fiction is for telling stories - any stories you want!