#I don't need to force myself with recreation tasks

[wordsandrobots]

Today has not been the productive writing day I hoped for, mostly because I massively overstimulated myself gaming yesterday and the storm made it even harder to sleep.

This is especially galling as I'm about two paras short of finishing the thing I was trying to write. Ah well. I'll get it done this week, probably.

(I actually managed decent progress in the fiction department last week, sketching out a couple of important bits of dialogue for later in Akatsuki's Big Adventure and getting to the halfway mark of the next (short) chapter. I just hate the feeling my brain has turned to tapioca.)

(Oh, what the hell, I'm starting to get into the swing of the main characters' dynamic so here's a sneak peak, as a means of reminding myself that I can in fact do this.)

“Hi! Sorry to bother you.” Subtly as I can, I nudge Jaén, whispering, “Hat.”

She rolls her eyes but obligingly takes it off.

The receptionist blinks. “Oh. Aren't you…?”

“Yeah, I'm afraid we're in kind of a pickle.” Helpless and harmless is probably where I want to pitch this. “Miss Jayanaleen got into a small accident just now and we really need to treat her ankle right away. Do you have a first-aid kit we could maybe borrow? Sorry, it's pretty urgent. Can't have her missing the big fight tomorrow, you know?”

I wonder if he's a fan. He certainly brightens up fast. “Yes, of course! You should sit down – please, just over here. I'll be right back.”

“I don't know what's worst,” Jaén complains as we take a seat, “you blowing up my reputation by telling someone I have 'small accidents' or that you said it was 'a pickle'.”

“Well, it is. And everyone gets into accidents, and most people want to help out afterwards. It's human nature.”

“No, human nature just grated my leg on a wall. You're acting like…”

Unable to help myself, I lean my elbows on the table and grin. “Like what?”

“Like I don't know what but I'm beginning to think you can turn it on and off whenever you want.”

“It's the ancient and mysterious art of being nice to people. You've been playing the big bad meanie too long, you probably forgot how it works.”

“Meanie? Fuck, that's worse than pickle. How the hell did I get stuck baby-sitting a weirdo who goes to lap-dancing clubs for medical help and talks like…”

“You still can't work out how to end that sentence, can you?”

“You're real lucky you promised me decent food tonight, you know that?”

-------

[Note: the hat in question is a beanie at present but this may change on account of official Gundam developments. Again, I swear I wrote all of this before G-Quacks was announced.]

[This scene does in fact take place in the entrance room to a lap-dancing club. The receptionist is a very nice young man called Tomas who, while lacking in the shirt department, has provided me with an excellent way of arranging an upcoming scene that will spark everything going completely off the rails. Thank you, Tomas!]

[Akatsuki's current opinion of Jaén: you are very scary but fortunately I was raised to see the humanity in scary people and also to very effectively gauge how much shit I can get away with.

Jaén's current opinion on Akatsuki: stop making me laugh, I have a public image to uphold.]

[thedemonscrawler]

Is there a certain way you go about the characterizations of the different incarnations of Eclipse?

Their motivations!

So at his core, Eclipse is an angry, paranoid, spiteful, arrogant, lonely, possessive, socially-inept person who can't communicate to save his own life. No matter where in his life you're writing him from, these traits persist.

The differences come in what his goal is, and which of his core traits are being amplified because of it.

I've written the Original Eclipse the least, mostly because I actually got interested in the show following his death 8'D. This Eclipse is the most closed off of all of them, the least likely to change his mind, the angriest and most vindictive. He hasn't been betrayed yet, he hasn't really failed yet, so his arrogance is at an all time high.

On the flip side, after his defeat and expulsion from Sun's head, this is also the rawest point in Eclipse's life. There's a lot of good fics about scraping his broken ass out of the woods and patching him up, and for good reason. Strip his arrogance away with his loss, and he has nothing.

My favorite is the Backup Eclipse. Eclipse 2.0, my beloved! Still arrogant, still angry, but spite is his strongest trait. He was defeated and he knows it, and he's learned that he needs to be a bit smarter in manipulating those around him. By escalating the game to the next level when he amplified Moon's kill code (giving us the guy, Kill Code), Eclipse started a chain reaction that is STILL going on in current canon.

The Backup is my favorite because his characterization runs from one end of the spectrum to the other. He comes back as a bedraggled version of himself, forced to deal with basically being Bloodmoon's prisoner while also getting them to work for him. He manages to enact one victory after another, culminating in him actually gaining the star. He did it, he won!

And then he fucking crashes.

Possession and loneliness are his strongest traits in the second half of his arc, and he picks up depression as well. Spite has become bitterness. Eclipse was never supposed to win, and he knows it. The star was only ever a means to an end, a way to get Moon's attention. And when Moon resets himself... Eclipse doesn't know what to do. He attempts to respark that rivalry, but New Moon isn't interested.

With no goal to latch on to, Eclipse crumples under his own misery and lack of purpose. On his way to winning, he destroyed everything that made his life interesting.

And then he got space lasered.

And then finally Eclipse 3.0, the Recreated Eclipse. I don't make a distinction between who he was before Lunar blew up his body and after, though I know some folks do.

Eclipse 3.0 starts off with anger, of course, and a lot of confusion and desperation. For a good amount of time in there he was p much feral. This one is mired in self-pity, and lashes out because of it.

Because that's what makes this one really interesting. He's picking up from where the Backup left off-- he has no purpose. I think he sunk his claws into the goal of 'find my creator' just to HAVE a goal. He's also interacting regularly with other people for the first time in his life(s), even if he does spend a lot of time taunting Moon for stuff that neither of them were personally there for.

Two things, I think, really helped Eclipse start stabilizing. The first was, uh. Solar's death 8'D More specifically, it was Puppet giving him an impossible task to focus on, and Eclipse always needs a goal. The second was Earth started socializing him. Which I love-- hell, I wrote that myself back in Sunk Cost. Earth always had the advantage of not being personally victimized by Eclipse like her siblings were, which let her be more tolerant of him.

Eclipse in his current state is still arrogant and possessive, and his people skills still suck. He's 'better' as a kind of side effect to Puppet's request; bringing Solar back, doing this Super Important Thing That Even Moon Failed At? Was a major ego boost. Eclipse learned a very important lesson:

Doing good things gets you attention and praise.

Which is why I think he had such a rocky start with the new dimension Sun and Moon 8'D He was chasing the high of being the hero, at the cost of actually paying attention to what was going on. He knew how things were supposed to go, that made him The Smartest. He's a good guy for extremely selfish reasons XD

But he's also finally made it to where a lot of fanfic authors have gotten him. A little less lonely, a few wounds healed. He does have people he cares about, without any intent for manipulation involved.

So yeah. I guess in summary:

Original Eclipse (Upright): Vindictive, angry. Would bite your hand off rather than take it Original Eclipse (Reversed): Lost, bewildered. A feral animal, but one that can be tamed.

Backup Eclipse (Upright): Spiteful, serious. Lost the game once already, has no intention of losing again. Backup Eclipse (Reversed): Bitter, desolate. An Eclipse without a purpose, can be coaxed onto new paths. Still will probably bite you a few times first. Recreated Eclipse (Upright): Arrogant, possessive. The end goal of many a fanfic, actually able to get along as a functional member of society... mostly. Recreated Eclipse (Reversed): Feral, desperate. Clinging onto what fragments he has in a life he didn't ask for, and hating every second of it.

Idk if that was useful but there you go!!!

[euniexenoblade]

I may have asked you this before, and I'm really sorry, so I'm gonna be on anon for this. I. hate. cleaning. I've always hated cleaning. I just...have some strange aversion to cleaning. When I'm elsewhere, I clean just fine. But when it's my own stuff and area...I just avoid it for as long as possible. Executive dysfunction really sucks. What advice do you have that you can give me?

Executive dysfunction is tough, because it's really really hard to get around sometimes. Nothing I say will be a sure fire way to get through it, but I hope something I say can be helpful.

First of all, do not expect that you'll clean the whole house or anything. Just focus on a small amount at a time. Doesn't even have to be a whole room. Make it like, "today I will take care of x in the bathroom." It'll be so much easier. Maybe do like, one task a day if possible, and allow yourself to not keep up with that. You're allowed to skip chores, it's not the end of the world.

I like to open up the windows and let sunlight in, I also really like to blast music (or headphones if need be) and just go for it. I approach it like a jog, activity i need to power through and music is the energy. Serious about that sunlight, it wakes you up and brightens the mood.

As I said, start small. Is there garbage in your room? Pick it up and throw it out. There you go, there's one task. You can call it done there if you want. Do you have dishes scattered around your room? Pick em up and put them in the sink. There you go! A whole new task completed!

If the trash needs to go out, take it out when you leave the house. On your way to work? Take the trash out on the way. Gonna check the mail? Take the trash out.

Dishes can be daunting but if you break it into smaller tasks it can be a lot more manageable. When I'm at my girlfriend's house I tend to do the dishes immediately following the meal. (This is largely cuz they have so few dishes in general and so they're available when we want to eat next buuuut) This makes it so dishes don't stack up. Washing one bowl and one spoon and maybe a pan is a lot less work than a collected stack. You could also just load dishes into a dishwasher (assuming you have one) as you go. A lot of people don't do this which kinda always surprises me, but if you finish your meal, immediately when getting up, put the dishes in the dishwasher. No wait. Just do it. Dishes can't stack if they're already in the machine that's going to clean them.

Executive dysfunction is really hard to get around sometimes, and I'm sorry if none of this actually helped. But, with a lot of things with low energy or depression, you gotta kinda just make yourself do it. I know that seems redundant, "I can't make myself do it that's why it's a problem" but it is genuinely true. Sometimes you gotta just force it to happen. It's ok not to always be on top of everything. It's ok if today you just can't do it. It's ok if there are things you can't do and need help. Don't beat yourself up over it, that's not gonna help. Remember that it's ok to take breaks and not finish tasks.

Reward yourself. After you do the thing, do something you like. Eat chocolate, watch that show you've been waiting for, get high, whatever you want. (I like to take a big hot bath with a lush bath bomb, it's a great reward hehe~)

Buy a maid uniform, lots of people have told me that helps them power through chores :)

I don't know if any of that will help, but I hope it does.

Also, while I'm doing this, back on my last blog I wrote a post in reply to an ask of "how exactly do I clean my room" and I haven't been able to find it. So I think it'd be good to recreate it here. This is a lot more intensive, so anon plz don't feel inclined to do any of this. This is entirely for if people have the energy and ability, a bit closer to what I do.

Put on music. Absolutely the most important thing is having fun with it. Put on that song you like to sing along to, or that song you like to dance to, get yourself some energy. Jam the fuck out.

This is big optional, so feel free to skip this one if you don't want to do it. If you have a ceiling fan, wipe the top of the blades. Dust collects there even if you've been using it. But, if you haven't been using it, you don't want to knock all that dust down when you finally do. Go get yourself a duster for like $5 somewhere. If you just can't do that I'd recommend using a dry rag (always use dry things for dusting).

Do you have any dirty clothes? Whether in a hamper or on the floor, pick them up first and get the washer going, do the rest while the washer runs.

Get a trash bag. Do you have any trash in your room? Empty bottles, cans, wrappers, paper, any trash whatsoever: pick it up and put it in the bag.

Do you have any dishes laying around? Pick them up now and put them in the sink.

Wipe down any surfaces that might be dusty. Again, duster or dry rag. You can use paper towels if you want but I feel they're not very good for this task. Now wipe down any that might be dirty, from trash, dishes or whatever. Wet paper towel is allowed if you have no alternative, wet rag is probably better, lysol wipes tend to be my preference, if you're really fancy then you can get specific cleaners for wood and stuff (I wouldn't worry about this if all your shits cheap Ikea or Walmart though).

Whenever the washer finishes, of course move it to the dryer, but also put your bedding in the wash. You're cleaning the whole room, there's no way there isn't gunk on your bedding. This bit is kinda predicated on being able to wash/dry whenever you want. if you're reliant on a laundromat, edit this to whatever makes sense to you.

If you have carpet, I'd recommend to vacuum now. If you don't have a vacuum, no shame but I do recommend them. I wouldn't recommend a Dyson even though they look and seem cool, if you want a decent vacuum just stick to the normal top brands and you'll be fine. If you want one but don't have much money, get one of those small hand ones. If you have a hard floor, swiffer that shit.

You are largely done! Sometimes things may not be this easy but try your best with what you have and it'll be fine. Even doing just one of these things will feel good afterwards. Feel free to take breaks, to stop all together, reward yourself when you're done. It's just cleaning your room, don't think of it as a big deal.

[echologname]

Hack your ADHD brain to do things

If there's a pot of dopamine at the end of a rainbow, I'd believe it because I've been searching frantically where to find this stuff. But for now, here's some ridiculous and maybe unhinged advice on how to get your silly brain to produce it itself. In my opinion, the more silly, stupid and simple it is, the better.

Side quest roulette

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C7rard8ukBz/?igsh=aGxzdHNkaGl6MWxt

Tell yourself to do something that's NOT what you want to do and let the ADHD distract you down the correct rabbit hole.

Duck tape yourself to your task

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C-78ilVJlyb/?igsh=am9pODRzY2xtMTY5

Duck tape yourself to your chair if you need to sit down and do homework. If you move to get up, you'll feel the gentle pressure and it'll remind you to stay focused.

Honestly, I did say some of these were out there 😜

Sing

Singing stimulates your vagus nerve which helps reduce anxiety and has numerous other mental health benefits and makes you feel good inside. Signing while doing a task is a great strategy!

Nested roulette games

The brain thrives with unpredictability and brevity. Doom scrolling is so addictive because:

Appeal - something enjoyable

Brevity - a minute reel

Unpredictability - you keep scrolling for the surprise of what's next

So use this to choose your tasks at random and only commit to doing them for a little bit. If I spin a wheel and the task is homework, spin again for a random assignment and again for what part of the assignment and set a timer for a few to 30 minutes max. Then you can do some proprioception stims like jumping jacks or twirl around to help you task change.

If your brain is chaotic, then giving it a chaotic and stimulating environment is what it needs.

Create an environment conducive to productivity

I can't be in my room, it's a mess, I don't have the energy to clean it but I need to put things away if I want to get to my desk to do work. So, instead of mixing my "lazy" and "work" environments in the same space, I'm only allowed to be messy and do fun things on the other end of the room that way my work space stays neat and tidy. It can help to have a room divider.

I focus better when I'm in work environments like school where everyone there has the same goal. So, it's my attempt to recreate the division where I associate different spaces with different tasks.

Sometimes I just get stuck but splashing cold water on my face or drinking something cold kinda zaps me out of that state and I feel alert and refreshed, ready to take on a task. You can set reminders to regularly get your cold fix to stimulate your nervous system and activate a mild stress response.

Name inanimate objects

If I name something, that automatically gives it "feelings." This is to help motivate me to take good care of things like my bedroom. If they're messy, they're sick and sad and it'd help me WANT to clean it up instead of just forcing myself to do it.

Coldness

Blanket head

For some reason, I focus better at night. So I try to recreate the same conditions by putting a blanket over my head, that way it's cozy, dim, less noisy and it's just me and my homework, nothing else.

Turn your routine into a mnemonic device

For example: Wisconsin Badgers Huddle Dramatically

Wash face

Breakfast

Homework

Dishes

The sillier the better. The idea is to make it easier to remember and make a habit of things to do.

Social media encouragement

Post your completed task in an ADHD encouragement group to get likes, positive comments or even help from others about where to start on a task.

Puppy dog eyes = YES!

Place talky buttons on the floor for your dog. Each one has a task or chore you have to do and when your dog presses one like, "Do dishes." you HAVE to obey. They're too cute to say no to and I'd do ANYTHING for them, if I'm willing to give my life for my dog, I can definitely do a few chores for her. Also, if my dog is encouraged to do this behavior with treats after I complete the task, she'll keep barking and begging and being silly and obnoxious until I do the task.

Get fictional characters to help you

Write notes to yourself about what's next to do or an upcoming appointment and sign them from "So and so." I'll listen to anyone but myself. You can even put them in a mailbox to make it more engaging.

Or use AI voices (for personal use ONLY! Voice actors are amazing people and it's mean to use their voice without permission) and a character give you your to-dos or words of encouragement.

ChatGPT scheduler

I've tried many times, but I suck at blocking out time for things. So I'll tell AI what I typically do, any goals and such and it'll give me what my week should look like.

Toy confetti and giant "pill boxes"

Create bins/cardboard boxes for each day of the week

Collect "toy confetti" (small knick knacks from diverse playsets like Legos, Barbie accessories, fidgets, small plastic dinos, Happy Meal toys etc...)

Write tasks on the toys and optionally an amount of time to set for that task

Place what needs to be done on which day in the corresponding boxes

The surprise and sensory diversity makes it fun and the boxes give it basic schedule structure.

Give yourself an important sounding title

Like, "I am the Princess! Everything I say goes!" And really get into the responsibilities inherent in your imaginary position. It can feel very empowering.

Mailbox

Set up a table or space for a box and some paper and writing utensils next to it. Optionally, have a cloud printer set up too. If someone has a chore for you to do, they can leave you a note in your box or if they have forms for you to sign, they can highlight where and leave it for you. Or if I have a note to leave for myself while I'm out of the house, I can use my phone connected to the printer, to print out the note at home (possibly placed so the paper falls into the box).

ASMR

Do your tasks slowly and listen carefully to the sounds of the tinkling silverware, tap your fingers on hard surfaces you have to wipe down...etc. It's no longer "chores" but yummy homemade ASMR.

Silly hats

Wear a silly hat for different things (like homework vs chores) so it acts as a cue to your brain to help you gear shift.

Different music genres help too.

Gentle parenting

Tell yourself, "It's OK sweetie, I know it's frustrating and you're trying your best to do the thing but you feel stuck."

Opposite action (DBT therapy)

Do the opposite of what your emotions are telling you to do. If you're feeling sad and want to curl up alone in the dark and do depressed things, you're just going to encourage that emotion instead of doing things a non-depressed person does like go outside in the sun and talk to friends.

If you're demotivated and want to sit and doom scroll, just get up, do a power pose and start with one little thing.

Video game roleplay

Attach a controller plug to a headband and controll myself to do things.

Fictional character roleplay

Act how a character would act doing that task. Mimic their body language, tics, lingo, humor…etc.

If doing the task stresses you out too much, pretend you're summoning someone else to do it and it might as well be your favorite character.

Demon slaying

The task that you NEVER seem to be able to do is a demon that must DIE! Fuel yourself with that adrenaline! C’ause that pile of laundry is just going to mock you and your executive dysfunction indefinitely. And we can't have that, so be a hero and murder your tasks! Those stressful little burgers are going DOWN!

Exercise audio games

Using an app like Zombies, Run! or Marvel Move, get up and get going, knock out missions while getting chores done.

AI assistance

AI works as my brain, it plans everything out and I just operate as the body taking commands of what to do next.

Dog treatment

Give yourself a treat for doing basic human things.

Cleaning hacks

Everything has a colored sticker which goes in the corresponding colored drawer/box/shelf…etc.

Give everything silly names. The dingawongs go on the desk with the other dingawongs and the jigawigas go in the drawer with the other jigawigas.

Try to pick up things with robot hands (mechanical hands with string and cardboard/plastic) or your toes. It'll be so much more fun and novel!

Video + Tasker

Record vids of giving tasks and use Tasker to automatically play them at a certain time as a reminder.

Best used with smart watch (like a super spy getting a secret mission 😎)

Quests

Mystery dispensers by each task (like by the cleaning supplies) and go around doing tasks in order to get the reward.

Optional function: they have AI and you need to send a picture of the completed task (checks image date and time metadata) in order to get the prize.

Puppet/plush care

Instead of saying, “I have to do this,” it's “I have to make sure Fuzzy does this by this time because I care about her and love her.” So it uses my sense of maternal responsibility for caring for helpless creatures that can't do anything on their own.

Also, it's Jesus's love language helping others! His law is love and that's how He wants us to show it.

VR game

Highlights items to put away and where and gives cute animations and sound effects for doing the task. Like a SIM but uses augmented reality.

Virtual pet reminders

Whenever it yells at you for a specific thing like food, associate it with doing something for yourself like getting yourself food too. You can't always trust yourself to set reminders.

Audio planner A

Computer talks and says what the task is, for how long and plays specific music to mentally que that task.

Example:

7:30 AM

“Time to wake up!”

“You have an hour to get ready for the day”

Plays morning music

8:20

“10 more minutes”

8:30

“Homework time!”

“You have 30 min until a break”

Plays Lofi Hip Hop

9:00

“You can take a break now”

Has a web interface with a checklist and whenever a task is completed, it says something like, “Congratulations on completing ____!” “You’ve earned 10 virtual coins!”

Audio planner B

Same as above but a playlist of time chunks and voice clips

MP3 to-do timer

Music clips with the task as the “song title.” Selecting a random song to be played, would be the same as selecting a random task and setting a timer for it, in this case, the run time of a song.

Candy task randomizer

Take a candy/pill dispenser filled with beads with tasks written on them.

Plush task randomizer

Plush with sound module with recordings of different tasks.

Bead currency

Every task completed is worth a bead.

10 beads = 1 USD

Keep track of beads as they accumulate

Can ONLY buy something for puppies IF there's enough beads

Adulting kid’s app

In a virtual world, their parents can set up a to-do list and they have an in game calendar, bank, phone and such. They're goal is to take care of a virtual pet whose needs are very realistic: unpredictable. Anyway, to take care of a pet, you need money which is earned by completing tasks (parents and teachers can send tasks to their to do and appointments to their calendar.

They have to plan out about how much food and medicine their pet needs and spend it wisely. They get an virtual invoice/receipts.

Their pet can spontaneously get sick and they need to make an appointment with the vet and pay LOTS from savings.

Delayed gratification prize dispenser

Write tasks on paper

Add paper to jar once complete

When the jar is full/reaches a minimum weight, it’ll dispense a prize

Flower power

Write tasks on seed paper

When a task is complete, put it in a jar

The jar is filled by the end of the week and the tasks can be planted!

Egg system

Fill eggs with different tasks related to homework or free/break time. And set a timer to complete the task on the egg I picked.

For free time, instead of picking up my phone and waste time, I pick up an egg. This way, I can do things I’ve always wanted to do but never do because I’d rather sit and do nothing.

Also, keeping a strict schedule is hard, this way, it's not mindless routine, it has an element of surprise and flexibility.

Possible Motivators

Throughout all species throughout the world and time, necessity has been the driving force and the reward: life and continued existence, food and health. They’d literally die without the skills they acquired from their parents, sometimes horribly. There's no, “If I want to get distracted and not do this thing, there's no consequences, I’ll still live just fine.”

I suppose drastic stakes are super effective.

Also, like the Bluey episode, “Duck cake,” even when Bluey got things she liked and enjoyed for cleaning up, they didn't fulfill her as much as cleaning up to please her parents and make them happy. So, doing things for the good of helping others is also a strong motivator. If we always live for the things that please us, for the things we want, we’ll never be truly happy.

Or Tiana in The Princess and the Frog, she had a dream she wanted SO desperately, she worked hard every day for years for it, never once taking her eyes off the prize. What dream do you have?

Make other things just as or more enjoyable than my bad habits.

Find something or someone to live for (for me, it's my dog's). It's different when you take care of someone you love because you would do anything for them. They're ALIVE, they have feelings and it makes you care about them.

Or if not, pretend you have a little kid to take care of and they follow you around everywhere and watch what you do. You'd want to make sure you're always setting a good example and demonstrating healthy habits.

Though it's probably not the healthiest, nothing kicks me into high gear like being frustrated/angry. I get an "I can fight everyone!" mentality and end up taking it out on chores and doing things. At least I'm not too irritable and it's constructive.

[ar3s-r4t-qu33n]

The Insomniac - Chapter 1

So… Played the tutorial of Trials and explored the Sleep Room a bit and somehow, in my sleep deprived brain, that was enough to make something so here it is! Not sure if I’ll continue it, I kinda want to ngl but we’ll see. Not really proofread, again, half written when I was passing out and then finished when I was a bit more lucid so I apologise if it’s shit. Also I’m still figuring out a lot of shit about Trials so if I’ve messed up anything about the layout/terminology/lore, please let me know! Hope y’all enjoy!!

Word Count: 3,338

CW: Attempted murder, drugging.

"Please step out of the shuttel."

Reawakening

I cling to the shuttle, knees knocking as one of my hands slips off, almost taking me down with it. It's bloody, still gushing the stuff from the gaping hole in my palm. My head throws my vision through a loop, and I have to swallow hard to stop the bile rushing up my throat to come spilling out of me. It hurts. It's too bright in here. Wherever here is. There's a window to my left, where more of those awful doctors are probably torturing their patients, drilling into their temples and spewing nonsense about the past and the future and 'the programme'. My head spins again. In front of me looks like a counter at a pharmacy, a woman reading behind the desk. She doesn’t appear to have noticed me, but I’m breathing so loudly, I swear she must be able to hear it.

I jolt, stumbling out and crashing against the wall. The shuttle snaps shut behind me, faster and somehow angrier than the last one.

“Please explore the Sleep Room. This is your neighbourhood…”

I squeeze my eyes shut, blood rushing my ears as my head spins yet again, that stupid intercom going on and on and on, barely audible between each ragged breath I force in and out of my lungs. I need to calm down. I need to figure out what the hell is going on and get out of here. My fingers stick to the cool glass and I force myself to steady, wobbly on my feet as I approach the counter.

"You have to learn to crawl before you can run, Honey.” She says, disinterested, again not even glancing up from her magazine.

"I-" My words die in my mouth, vocal chords giving out a pained squeak instead of English, throat constricting in on itself in protest, larynx sending me a strict warning;

Don't speak unless necessary. You need to heal.

I need to get my hands on some fresh tea, lemons and honey.

Rounding the corner, I find myself in what looks like a recreational room, only it's entirely too clinical. Pure white, too much space, and far too few people having far too few conversations. Most just sit, staring off. A man sits near the door, something in his eyes a little more lucid than some of the others, so I approach.

"Where-"

He juts his head towards a metal staircase. "First empty room you see’s probably yours.”

"Thank you." More throaty squeaks, both the inside and outside of my throat burning at the effort.

The slabs have been cold on my now bare feet, but the metal stairs are even worse. Make me wish I had my fluffy slippers. I didn't have time to put them on, I only had my socks. Why would they take my socks? And my nightgown, I realise, reaching the platform halfway up. I'm dressed in something akin to a uniform, gray and drab and not made for me. It clings far too much, meant for a gal a lot smaller than me.

A glint in my peripheral catches my eye and I glance to the right, finding a huge window looking down on the rec room. I can't see much. The glass is strange, not quite a mirror, but not clear, either. As though it resists showing what's within but can't quite commit to the task.

Doctors. Machines. And then a man in a wheelchair. He's focused on the people below me, pondering something, before he pulls away from the window, disappearing down a hallway. Not once did he look at me. It's like he didn't even know I was there.

My room is at the very end of the hallway marked ‘A-2’, beside another metal grid sectioning us off from the rest of wherever we are. The only plain room left, a number written above the unit.

3001

The door swings open almost too efficiently, quickly and quiet, and I quickly shut it again behind me. That voice comes in again, seemingly coming from a television screen in the corner, talking about the space, but I don’t care to hear it. I don’t care for any of this.

The door stands a fraction of an inch above the floor, a tiny but noticeable drop between the hallway and my room. The window in here is the same as the one looking down to watch us; not quite one way, not quite two. My stomach drops as I watch someone pass by, not seeing their every pore, sure, but they're not exactly blurred. They sort of lean in, as though hoping I wouldn't see them, and quickly disappear, footsteps, shoes, hurrying back down the hallway as hushed voices talk. Not soundproof, either.

The room holds little; a basin, wall mirror, desk and chair, bed, a little dresser for clothes, a few shelves and what appear to be the 'essentials' for this place- shampoo, soaps, a wash cloth, kettle, some eating utensils, fan, books, weights, a lamp, toilet paper, some canisters, and a pile of napkins. A toothbrush and tube of toothpaste have been laid out by the basin too.

Taking stock makes me feel better. I don’t know why.

The soap and shampoo are basic, unscented, purely for getting clean, and the canisters hold sugar, in one, and coffee pods in another. My nose twitches at the scent and I move on, sitting on my plain bed, feeling the cheap, sort of scratchy sheets beneath my hand. The other remains in my lap, numb, but throbbing. I've never treated a wound before. And it's not even the only one I have; that... Creature, whatever it was, it felt like it sucked the life out of me, and whoever jumped on me luckily didn't cause too much damage, but my arms hurt from the punching, and there will probably be bruises tomorrow. And then I ran into that woman with the puppet again at right before I escaped, and that drill caught me in the shoulder.

I think I almost died. If that shuttle hadn't closed, she would have killed me.

I approach the basin, seeing myself in the mirror for the first time since that night. I'm a mess. Hair all over the place, lipstick smudged, a dark ring around my eyes where my makeup was. Bloodshot eyes. Temples caked in blood from where they drilled...

I wince at the memory, a headache threatening to hit me, and I force my attention on my hand.

Once the blood is washed away and I've wiped as much as I can from my shoulder and temples, I'm left with a cut along my left shoulder and a hole in my right hand. At least it's not my dominant one. But I'm going to need something to cover it up. My throat is burning now, in desperate need of a drink, but I'd rather die than drink coffee and I don’t know if the water is safe. My legs are shaky as I head back downstairs to the rec room, hunger pains gnawing at the bottom of my stomach. I can smell food somewhere, but it's almost overwhelming how strong it is, the air completely filled with the stench of something I can't quite place, a cacophony of smells that do nothing but confuse me. I need to focus. I need gauze and a plaster.

I try to speak to the nearest person but words just won't form. My throat is practically wringing itself, and my eyes dart around the room in search of something to drink; nothing. None.

It's like my body moves of it's own accord, slinking back to the stairs, leaning against the banister in... Shame.

I want to fucking scream.

I want to yell ‘don't any of you know who I am!? Don't you care!?’ God, in New York, in New Orleans, I was something. I meant something, people knew my name and if they saw me like this, bleeding and parched, they would help me. Someone would help me.

... Am I even still in New York?

"Hey-"

A hand lands on my shoulder and I jump back, hitting the back of my head against the metal, a strangled sort of half gasp, half scream clawing its way out of my throat.

"Hey, hey, woah!" A man several heads taller than me steps back, hands up in defence. "Easy. It's okay. I just wanted to check in on you, I don't think I've seen you around before and... To be honest, you ain't exactly in the best shape."

He's weathered. I can't tell if it's by age or experience, but there is something timeless to him, wrinkles on his forehead, crow's feet, and yet clear laughter lines outlining his full lips. His hair is shaved down to his scalp, a coiley layer of frizz just about starting to grow, and a lightning bolt of a scar runs from his scalp down the side of his temple and onto his right cheek, forking over his forehead and even dipping into his ear.

"Do you need some gauze?"

I nod.

"Do you need someone to wrap your hand for you?"

I nod again.

"Do you talk?"

I nod a third time.

"Alright, okay," he chuckles, "My cell's this way, and luckily for you, I've got some supplies saved up. We haven't had anyone new come in in a while now." He begins walking and I follow, turning down a hallway to that first row of rooms. His is in the middle, and the second he opens the door, I am in awe.

I have no idea how he's managed to do it in a place like this, but there's paper on the walls and a carpet on the floor, the whole floor, filling that slight gap between the two rooms. His shelves are lined with things, including a medkit that he grabs and behind digging through. His dresser is full of clothes, some bloodied, others pristine, and some of his trinkets do catch my eye. They're... Oddly macabre. Toys that are just off or oddly perverse, statues of things I have never seen in my life, and, oddly enough, a bag of pistachios, half eaten.

"Sit down. I'll be as gentle as possible." He pulls out the desk chair for me. "Feel free to grab some water, too. Safer to get it from the stations in the hallway than the sink, but the way.”

As he begins to wrap my hand, I take the cup and drink the whole thing down in one, finally dousing the flames within.

"That better?" He asks, amused.

I nod. "Thank you."

His smile fades "Look, I hate to be rude, I do, but," he secures the gauze. "You look really bad, ma'am. Worse than most new folks."

I motion to my shoulder and he takes a look.

"Blood loss. Checks out." He begins to rifle through the first aid box again.

There’s a thousand questions running through my head, some I know he could probably answer, others I’m certain he can’t, but somehow the least important one comes out first. "How did you know about my hand?"

He holds his right hand out to me, a scar almost perfectly in the centre of his palm. "I'll give Gooseberry one thing; she has impeccable aim." He crosses over to my front again. "We all have one. There's a certain order to things here, you know, them academics and doctor types love routine." He rolls his eyes with a smirk. "But every single person here has a scar." He presses his hand against mine gently. It dwarfs mine, almost, larger, stronger, calloused. "And now you do too. Means you're one of us," His eyes flick to the still-open door, quickly enough that just I barely catch it. "And not one of them."

He returns his attention to my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, that's a lot of information at once, huh?"

I nod, losing my words once more.

"Don't you worry, they usually give you a few days before they start hounding you to go back in-"

"Go back in!?" I try to turn around, but his sturdy hands hold me in place.

"Easy." He warns. "I'll explain more to you once you've settled, but unless you wanna pass away in your sleep tonight, I'd suggest you let me take care of this."

I still, but my heart is thudding along in my ears, I can feel it in my neck, the soles of my feet. What else could possibly be in that house that would make me wanna go back? I already destroyed everything, my documents, whatever was in that other box. It was too dark for me to rifle through it, I had more important things on my mind.

“I barely got here.” I mutter, quite by accident.

He sighs. “Like I said, you’ll have a few days to recover, maybe someone will take pity on you and do a few runs in your stead. But you will have to go back in. Everyone has to go back in.” He secures the bandage. “Maybe you’ll find a full group to go with, that’ll give you better chances.”

“Can’t I go with you?”

He’s suddenly bashful, gaze falling to the floor. “Not, um… not really. It’s really nothing personal, but it’s better for me if everyone survives, and I’ve been doing this with folks who know what they’re doing for quite some time now. You ain’t ready for that sort of thing, clearly. Better if you find someone with a bit more experience who’s willing to go at your speed.”

None of what he’s saying is making any sense to me. How much better can you get at shredding documents and avoiding crazy people? I’m sure if I went back in, with a proper layout and knowledge of what the hell I was doing, I could do it perfectly, without getting hurt this time.

“You’re all set.” He says, stepping back from me. “You’d best get yourself some food. I’d suggest avoiding Dory for the time being, she ain’t too fond of new people bothering her. I recommend you be nice to the Cook, since he’s the one feeding you, and I have heard he’s happy to spit in the soup if someone pisses him off enough. Don’t use that hand too much if you can help it as well. Oh, the showers are through the cafeteria, same as the toilets.”

A knock has us both turning to the door, where a woman, an older lady with greying hair and spindly hands is waiting.

“Sparky, the boys wanna play chess, you coming?”

“I’ll be right there, thanks for letting me know.”

She spares me a quick once-over before leaving.

The man, Sparky, I assume, leads me back out to the rec room before patting me on the back and heading upstairs, leaving me alone once more.

It’s even quieter in here now, maybe it’s tea time or perhaps people are turning in or have somewhere to be, but it’s completely quiet save for the echoes from above. I am hungry. Thirsty again now, too. Maybe I should go up to the cafeteria, so if I can get something. See about getting my hands on some tea. I’d even take Earl Grey at this point as opposed to my usual spiced chamomile. Anything, so long as it soothes my throat.

“Hey,”

I turn to my right; a man is behind a thick pane of that strange glass, completely on his own. He’s dressed as though he’s been prepared for a struggle; helmet, mask, even gloves. He’s surrounded by what look to be little cages, a small hallway behind his cramped office. I can’t help peering down it as I get closer, searching for anyone out there.

“Sorry, just… Fuck. You just got here, didn’t you?” He says, leaning forwards in his chair. “You got that look about you, like… I don’t know, like you’re still human.”

My throat tightens. “What does that mean?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just enjoy it while it lasts, I guess.” He points to the shuttle beside me. “This here’s the egress. Once the whitecoats are done twisting you into shape, this is how you get back out into the world.”

It looks like it, too. Lush plant life is escaping the gridded floor, thin smoke reminding me of a rain forest or jungle, but the second I step just slightly closer to it, bars slam into place, blocking my way out.

“I’m… sorry to say it,” I can’t look away from it. The exit, the way out, it’s right in front of me, right before my eyes. All it would take is this guy pressing a button and letting me through, and I’d be free. “But you got a lot of rough roads ahead of you.”

My lip quivers pathetically, that burning, constricting feeling in my throat finally giving way to tears, hot, escaping my eyes as I turn back to him. “I can’t do this. I- I’m not supposed to be in a place like this, I mean it. I didn’t… I have a family back home. People who are looking for me, they know that I can’t do this, you just have to call them up, if you call my dad, he’ll tell you I’m not built for this.”

“I’ve heard this before, miss-”

“I’m Roxie Morgan.” I say, gripping the edge of his counter. “I’m a singer, I live in New York, people know who I am, they know my face, they will miss me if I don’t come home, you have to let me out of here- I’m going to die!”

For a moment- I swear, I swear- his pale blue eyes soften, hands clenching in his lap as he looks at me, as I cry in front of him, letting him see the whole of it, the whole of me and my fucking terror, I see his chest seize up, as though caught red-handed, as though he could actually do something.

And then he looks away.

“I… I’m sorry, Ma’am, but I’ll need release tokens to let you out. There’s protocols, there’s rules, and you’re just gonna have to follow them.”

No…

No. No, no, no, he can’t, he can’t make me do this, no one can make me do this.

“I can’t go back in there. I could have died, do you hear me? I almost died in there! That woman almost killed me, she almost killed me! Someone almost killed me-”

He presses a button. “I need a sedative please, as soon as possible.”

“You can make it stop! You can let me out, you can get me out of here please, please just let me go, I shouldn’t be here! I’m not supposed to be here, I-”

A strong arm wraps around my wrist and a stabbing pain shoots through my upper arm. Immediately my body fails me, legs giving out and someone hooks their hands under my arms, dragging me backwards.

As my eyes fall shut, I see that man behind the glass just staring at me, wide-eyed, haunted, almost, as though he’s never had to do that before. As though he’s in trouble, a brand new trouble he’s never experienced before.

            I wake the following morning with a mouth dryer than sand and a splitting head ache, a dried dribble of blood stuck to my arm. I’m starving at this point, stomach screaming at me to get up and feed it.

On my way through to the cafeteria, I can’t help but look at that window again. He’s not there, it’s a different guy this time, but I can’t imagine that he’s just gone. No, he’s likely gone home, his shift ended, and he’ll be back at some time in the future. He has to come back.

Because he’s my ticket out. No matter what it takes, that man is going to get me out of here.

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

An attempt was made...

Idk, it's a sort of flash sudden thing, I usually edit and draft a lot more before I feel like I want people to read it but first time for everything ig. I'm so fucking scared rn man-

[akehoshimystar]

Kyoya SSR

An Invitation From the White Rabbit

Part 1

Kyoya: Even so, I was surprised.

I never thought Yashiro-san would eye the same book as I do.

Ito: (Yeah. Even something like this rarely happens in fiction.)

I was looking for materials regarding Alice for the next dress-up event at the bookstore, when I happened to meet Shido-san. After a fierce battle of giving each other the book we found, we are now cooling off in the park.

Ito: Thank you for letting me have it.

Kyoya: Don't mention it. I have a car, so I can search anywhere I want.

Ito: (Now that’s a smart follow-up.)

Well. If you really need it, I can open it here right now, just tell me.

Kyoya: Really? Then, can I just ask for the scene where the White Rabbit appears?

I'm planning to buy the book later, but since I was entrusted with this task, I thought I'd get a good idea of ​​it first.

Ito: Of course.

Once I responded to his wish, I flipped through the illustrated book. When I reached the scene I was looking for, I opened the book for Shido-san to see it easily.

Kyoya: Let me get a little closer.

Shido-san waited for my reply before coming closer, and continued reading with a serious look on his face.

Kyoya: ......Yeah, when people think of the White Rabbit, they tend to have the strong impression that he's in a hurry and pressed for time. 

Ito: In fact, most people think that.

Kyoya: For those who like the original, I think it would be better to recreate that aspect as well.

Ito: I’m not sure.... Alice itself has been made into a work in many places, but each one has its own unique character.

Even if you have your own individuality, it's unlikely that people will be disappointed.

Kyoya: In that case, I guess I should just try to find something we have in common without forcing myself.

Ito: (What Shido-san and the White Rabbit have in common...? Maybe they both look good in white?)

As I was thinking, Shido-san clapped his hands as if he had noticed something.

Kyoya: Oh, something just came to me.

I'm conscious of time when I'm walking between classes at school or walking down the hallway, so this may apply.

Ito: That's true. If the classroom you're heading to is far away, you might not have enough time.

Kyoya: That's right. Well, in my case, it’s a wristwatch, so we may not be that similar.

I guess I will try wearing a pocket watch for the sake of getting into character.

Ito: (That would be... very picturesque, indeed.)

Part 2

Ito: Let’s see if there’s something else you have in common...

(Hmm...)

As I took a glance at Shido-san who’s looking for more clues, I noticed that people passing by were gazing at us.

Ito: (Ah, I see.)

I think I got it.

Kyoya: Do let me know.

Ito: Yes. Sorry in advance if I'm off the mark. I think it's "the part that makes people want to chase after you."

Though in Shido-san’s case, it's more with the eyes than it is physically.

Kyoya: Haha, that's an interesting one.

Shido-san also seemed to realize the meaning of the gazes of those around him, then he smiled with a gentle expression.

Ito: From what I've heard, I feel like there's something about you that makes the students at school want to follow after.

Kyoya: ...As a teacher, that’s the badge of honor.

Whatever the reason behind it may be, I'm glad that you feel that way, Yashiro-san. Thank you.

Ito: Don’t mention it.

(If anything, I'm also starting to think I should follow Shido-san's example and put in a bit more effort in analysis.)

I think this is what makes me want to follow him.

Kyoya: Yeah, I feel like I've managed to sort out my thoughts thanks to talking to Yashiro-san.

Even if it’s not 100% matched, it's fine as long as there’s something about me that people can enjoy.

Ito: Exactly my thoughts.

Kyoya: I'll try to work it out a bit more before the appointed day, so it would be helpful if you could give me your thoughts then. 

Ito: Absolutely, I'm looking forward to it.

Part 3

And now, the day of the event has finally arrived. Before the opening time….

Kyoya: Yashiro-san, is there anything strange with my outfit?

Ito: Excuse me, can you show me your back?

(Not a single strain….. In fact, even the collar and sleeves are perfectly aligned.)

No problem at all.

Kyoya: That's good to hear. Yashiro-san looks good as a Card Soldier as well.

Ito: Thank you. After talking to Shido-san, I was inspired and found it worth it to find something that me and my role have in common.

Kyoya: Haha, Yashiro-san, you always take your job seriously after all.

It’s probably difficult to find similarities with the original Card Soldiers that tried to deceive the Queen by fabricating roses.

In that sense, that might be the case with everyone here….

Saying that, Shido-san directed his attention to the whole place.

Haruhi: ….I wanna sleep.

I’ll extend my break a little more.

Alice who doesn’t chase after the White Rabbit, in fact, not moving even a single inch.

Roka: Hmm? What happened to your fur? Look, Urara, are you wearing it properly?

Urara: Shut your trap. Don't say another word.

The friendly Queen of Hearts and the unsmiling Cheshire Cat.

Taiga: It's already this late. I'll move the plates to somewhere they can be easily picked up so that we can respond to orders immediately.

Soyogu: It must be hard to do it alone, I'll help you.

The Hatter who calculates the time perfectly and the energetic Caterpillar. It's true that this place is filled with nothing but inconsistency. Totally different from the original Alice.

Ito: (Still, they’re strangely cohesive for some reason. There is something about it that strangely draws me into the worldview...)

Kyoya: It's lovely here, isn't it?

Ito: …..Yes.

And the calm White Rabbit in front of me blended in perfectly with the atmosphere.

Ito: Sorry for the late comment, but Shido-san, it suits you.

Kyoya: ….Oh, are you talking about our promise?

Thank you for remembering it.

Right after he smiled softly, as if savoring the moment, Shido-san peered into his pocket watch.

Kyoya: It's about time.

Let's put the finishing touches on Aporia's Alice story for the sake of our customers’ enjoyment.

Ito: Yes.

The noble White Rabbit finally walked out to greet the customers. And as a minor character in the story, I started preparing delicious tea for our guests today.

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Still recovering from the injuries when they rescued Samantha and Maxine, Soap and France er- John and Francine sits out on the next mission and enjoys a little rest and recreation. Comfy right?

Chapter 8 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Alex - Just Like Old Times

"Experiment 001"

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141 - Off Duty

London, United Kingdom

John barely passed the Physical Test and he was excited that he made it just in time with their next mission. But what he didn't expect was that he was already too late to tag along. They were headed to an Augustus base from a lead they got from Alex, who actually convinced the whole local militia to join his cause. He noted not to underestimate him despite the lack of limbs as that was his specialty back in the CIA.

Now, with enough time and approved Rest and Recreation, he can't believe they're driving to London. He didn't know how it happened but a few nudges and teases from France and they were actually driving his trusty jeep on their way to a local coffee shop she wanted to visit.

"You seem happy for someone who sits out in a fight." Soap commented as France's hair blew softly as the jeep sped across the empty highway.

"Well, I can't force myself out there, might as well enjoy the little freedom from the gunfire and chaos." she cheered, raising her hands openly like a tourist or someone from a music video. Soap rolled his eyes toward her behavior but when he thinks of it, he might use some relaxation himself.

"So, we're really driving to London for coffee? We could've just brewed some back at the base, you know?" he informed, eyes turning to the road. 

"Oh come on Soap! Live a little! It's the relaxing background I'm looking for, the one that yells "Rest up Francine and shoot tangos later!"" she teased, Soap was still not convinced about this, he's all too focused on work, living up to the 'elite' part of the task force.

Soap continued driving and couldn't help but momentarily turn to her, how she shook her head when her hair got in the way, how she giggled at the bumps on the road and how she badgered him with a lot of questions. All of those things he seemed to like. She even told him to slow down so she could take pictures of the view and show them to Maxine when she finally remembers her, along with a few selfies with Soap.

~

"So, Soap, this is your vacation? On your phone with a cup of coffee?" France crossed her arms as she sat in front of Soap. The Scottish looked at him, brows raised.

"Don't call me Soap out here. And I'm actually checking German news channels." he informed while not batting an eye on her.

"Really, what should I call you then, Dove?" She joked, while Soap remained unamused.

"John." he muttered.

"Really?! You don't really look like a John. Maybe... a James.. James MacTavish? Sounds better." she mused as she looked at the problematic mohawk man as he keeped raising his phone looking for a signal.

"Hey check your phone. Do you have reception or something?" Soap finally looked at her and turned to the direction she's looking at. A young woman was raising her phone just outside the cafe.

"What is she doing?" France pointed out and Soap was rendered speechless. Moments later the phone exploded into an EMP blast shattering the café windows causing the two to cover under the tables.

"Shite." John muttered and looked at France who was inches near him. France's hands were covering her ears as the ringing continued.

"Come on! Let's leave here before our ears bleed!" Soap roared, enduring the pain of the ringing as he pulled France to safety. People scattered around looking for a spot to stay which was just a few yards away from the phone. Everyone stood still and murmured as the person holding the phone crippled in pain from the said blast.

Francine forced herself off of John's strong grip and winced as she reached the blast zone, enduring the mental pain as she tried to rescue her. John took a while before he helped her up as his ears started to bleed from the ringing. Halfway through safety the phone exploded and the screeching stopped.

911 immediately responded assisting the three of them as well as those who suffered from injuries because of the blast. While being tended from behind the ambulance, a tall red-headed lady with a slick leather jacket introduced herself to them, flashing her INTERPOL badge.

"Hi. I'm sorry you got caught on the crossfire." she apologized, her tone was strict yet calming.

"Aye. It's alright ma'am. We're kinda used to it." John chuckled and Francine nodded. 

"This is kind of my case. Can I ask you for details surrounding the event that just happened?" she blindly fished her notebook and pen from her back pocket and the duo honestly told their story.

"Oh. Thank you very much. um Mr and Mrs…?"

the two of them looked at each other.

"Oh no no no. You've got it all wrong maam!" Francine quickly interrupted.

"Aye. There's no way I'd ask this woman out." John added causing them to argue and bicker like old people.

"Okay Okay. I'll address this differently. You two don't have to fight, okay?" she scolded as she answered her already ringing phone.

~

The sun was already setting when they drove back to the base. The ride was cold and quiet and the two of them didn't say a word after they bickered back at the city. Soap momentarily checks in on her while driving but France just crossed her arms and blasted music through her earphones.

John tried to talk to her about it but he hesitated, her body language was enough to tell him that she didn't need any bothering from him today, or maybe ever. So instead of saying words, he quickly turned to a small path just before the Base's entrance and drove seriously.

"Hey hey hey Mister, where are you bringing me?!" She motioned to eject herself from the car by detaching herself from the seatbelts.

"Oi Oi! Calm down. I just thought you needed a breather." he hit the brakes. They were at a small elevated area just below the river that ran behind their base. Francine slowly calmed herself down enjoying the beautiful view as John exited his jeep and walked to a tree stump.

He sat down and faced the river, the moon illuminated his hair and half of his face while France slowly descended from her seat and looked at his blue eye glow as the moonlight hit his face. 

"Cigars aren't allowed at the base. And we're still technically outside." he winked and offered her a light, a sneaky smirk escaped from his perfectly shaped mouth. 

Francine gulped.

"I don't smoke. Thanks." she gestured a no at the Scot and slowly walked toward him as soon as he turned back.

"Mmhmm.. Suit yourself." he teased as he huffed the cigar and released smoke from his mouth, pouting his lips and looked up at the sky. Francine fell quiet, but she could hear her heart thumping, telling her to say the words she wanted to say the moment they met. But she hesitated, there's no time for admiration in the middle of war. She inhaled deeply and sighed.

"This view looks spectacular." she mused, John just chuckled and puffed another breath of smoke.

"What's with you women and beautiful landscapes? Sometimes I don't get it. Like, it's just water and the sky." he complained. Francine smiled telling herself that it's a different view she was referring to. 

'The spectacular view I'm referring to is you, John MacTavish.' she smiled and told herself.

Task Force 141 Base - Lobby

Soap and France just got back inside the base and Shepherd was already looking for them. Word has it that their involvement from events that occurred earlier today alerted the General and called them into briefing.

"Agent Ryder, I believe you've already acquainted yourself with these two members of the force?" Shepherd introduced.

"Yes. It's Mr. MacTavish and Ms. Winters." the redhead nodded to them as a greeting.

"Good." The general seated himself and let the Agent begin talking.

"The case earlier was that of a Jane Doe, an American who used her phone to create a long lasting EMP blast capable of destroying nearby signal receptors at a set range. Coincidentally, one of your members also reported a bigger machine capable of doing bigger blasts back in Germany. While this may be purely coincidental, the interpol assigned me to further investigate this phenomenon as part of my job as Anti-Terror Weapon Division." she briefed, Shepherd had already talked to his higher ups and they already assigned her as part of a joint operation. 

"Furthermore, Our team wants to quickly eradicate traces of such weapons in order to restore peace and order across Europe." she added. Soap nodded in agreement, he was one of the few ones who witnessed the weapon's power and would like to take part in destroying such machinery. 

"Well Ms. Ryder. We have already discussed this. Welcome to the 141. These two will escort you around, make sure you feel comfortable and well fed with all the data you need." he muttered and shook hands with her. She nodded and thanked him as Soap and France gave her a quick tour of the base.

The tour consisted of mostly France talking, she actually got close with Agent Ryder quickly, and Soap was just there following like a dog. And he hates dogs.

"It's good to have someone like you in a place full of men. It eases off the pressure." the Agent thanked her as they dropped her off her quarters. France smiled and held her hand.

"Don't worry. These men may look tough, but then you get to know them, they're actually sweeter than us. Right, Soap?" she turned to him. 

"What are you talking about?" he easily dismissed rolling his eyes, looking everywhere but their direction.

"See?!" France giggled and Agent Ryder laughed along.

"It's a pleasure to be part of this team. Call me Alexandra. Alexandra Ryder." She said.

"Welcome to the 141, Alexandra." France shook hers and smiled. It may feel like a simple handshake but Soap felt that it was going to be an alliance that's going to last for a long time.

Next Chapter : A surPRICE Visit

Notification Squad, my beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @enderio @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach @beemybee

[mwolf0epsilon]

First off, before everyone comes after my butt with their "No Fun Allowed" and "Cringe" signs, this is in no way something to be taken as gospel or insightful. It's not a prophetic enforcement of canon. It's literally a theory done for fun, and to try to piece the Bendy Crack up Comics into the general and messy lore of the BatIM franchise. 

Most of you get this and don't need a big wordy warning about fanon interpretation, but a lot of peculiar people tend to show up in my ask box hoping to start a fuss over my headcanons and AU ideas, so I thought to be nice and leave a polite and diplomatic "Kindly Fuck Off" sign at the door for them.

With that said, there will be mild spoilers, carry on of your own volition, down below under the cut that will definitely show up because Tumblr mobile is a functional app that's never given me trouble!!!

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[[MORE]]

The Bendy Franchise has an established issue with cohesion in its lore. We all know what I'm talking about, we all have reservations about canonical character discrepancies (game vs novel vs guidebook) and we all have been racking our brains with a few holes in the timeline, as well as how BatDR (which is neither prequel nor sequel) will fit into this, since it's connected to BatDS and that's an established prequel to BatIM.

Granted I myself am missing a lot of pieces, having to scrounge around for info since I can't really get any of the reading material myself and rely heavily on @british-hero (who owns the novel plus got her copy of the comics yesterday), a very incomplete wikie, and analysis and theories from SuperHorrorBro's Bendy videos.

Heck, I also rely on a lot of gameplay footage, because BatIM has a bit of subtle storytelling through visual design of its levels, and hints of how certain characters work through a few game mechanics.

Through this mishmash of collecting puzzle pieces for the greater picture I even have a few notes on my phone to piece together certain events in established dates, something which comes very in handy for this theory since it talks about two particular characters, the Projectionist and Brute Boris (and I guess Twisted Alice to some extent but it's more of a note on some interesting thoughts I have of her).

Without further ado, here's what this theory is all about: Why did Norman become the Projectionist, and why did Twisted Alice turn Buddy Boris into Brute Boris?

If you think about it, there's only two creatures in the studio that really seem out of place in the world of BatIM, and that's Prophet Sammy and the Projectionist. Neither are inherently similar to any of the cartoon characters, nor are they considered to be Lost Ones. They're certainly not Searchers, but while we know Sammy is unique because his method of transformation was different, we never got an explanation for Norman's. It could be that it's a process similar to BatDR's new enemy type that's larger and seems to have bits and bobs stuck to it, but then those big guys seem like the equivalent to Swollen Searchers for the Lost Ones. The Projectionist doesn't really fit the puzzle.

Or at least he didn't.

With the introduction of the Crack up Comics collection, we get three new characters that were definitely designed in the same manner that the Butcher Gang was. Beginning with a corrupt monster forms and then giving way to perfect and pristine rubberhose toon forms.

I'm talking about Miss Twisted, the Brute, and Cameraman.

The villainous trio from the Souper Boris comic strip.

To us it's obvious the artists created them in parallel to Twisted Alice, Brute Boris and the Projectionist, but to the actual canon this actually has a bit of an impact on the Projectionist's existence.

Why, you ask? Because those characters were introduced between 1936 and 1940.

Bendy Crack up Comics table of contents, showcasing the publishing dates of the strips.

For anyone who doesn't know (either from not paying attention to the Joey Drew Studios channel audio logs, or from not owning the books) the Ink Machine wasn't conceptualized or installed until 1942/1943. Putting that into perspective, the only other thing that happened in Joey Drew Studios in 1940, was the conceptualization of Bendyland (which is likely the origin of the idea for the Ink Machine itself).

This means that Cameraman existed well before the Projectionist ever came to be, and that made me think about another thing: The Ink's apparent sentience.

I'll be frank, the Ink is very hard nut to crack. I consider it a form of alchemized entity, others consider it pure black magic, and I'm pretty sure Joey Drew himself had no idea what he was dealing with when he began using it. The fact of the matter is that the Ink is alive and that it has its own agenda. One that coincides with Joey's, out of mutual interest.

In the novels it seems to want to be free, but it can't exactly do that as a formless liquid, so it tries to body-snatch people (ex: Sammy and Buddy's grandpa).

When Joey tries to use it to give life to Bendy through nothing more than using the Ink and a template (likely a character model sheet) the Ink tries to follow the model but immediately becomes a distorted humanoid version of it (which honestly rings so many fucking alarm bells on its own). Things… Escalate there on out, with Joey trying to perfect the method and only managing to succeed through Daniel Lewek (and many other nameless Boris Clones), Allison Pendle and Thomas Connor.

An important thing to take from this, however, is that by trying to perfect this method Joey not only taught the Ink to reshape things into viable referenced material, but that he had to have lost control of just how many souls were being pumped through the Ink Machine for him to monitor and keep up.

Sammy started killing people when he completely turned, and it didn't seem to take long for him to cut down people in likely both the music and art departments. At this point he had no self-restraint and was completely wrapped around inky fingers and Joey's lies. 

Norman is one such potential victim, and Dot and Buddy even passed by his ink-wrapped body while fleeing.

Now, the thing about trying to follow a specific guide and not having the actual means to make it exactly the same thing, is an easy enough notion to get (as shows like "Nailed It", and years of trying to perfect visual style mimicry, have taught me).

The Ink likely had the template it needed (maybe a printed copy of Souper Boris that got thrown around in the chaos), the insight of what Norman's role in the studio was, the amount of mass it needed to consume and transform his dead body, but not exactly the right sort of… Centerpiece for it...

Cameraman using his lens to light up his path.

But what's a projector besides a bigger fancier camera? Both blink, both take film, same thing right? The ink doesn't see the difference and just stitches together this humanoid bootleg cameraman with the pieces it finds that are similar enough.

Mechanical blinky head? Check.

Strange round disc near the belly? There's a speaker. That's round! Check.

Film? There we go, a nice big round reel full of film in it, let's put it near the head, that's how it works right? Check.

Lastly, no Joey to actually direct this artistic recreation of a one-off character. The Ink did it all by itself while he was off getting his hand broken by a rightfully upset Buddy Boris.

If you look at it objectively it makes sense that being the projectionist tasked with not only recording and maintaining the projectors themselves, that the entity in the Ink would pick Cameraman as a template for Norman's transformed self.

It also makes sense that the Projectionist is so off-putting in the studio. He's almost perfect, but not quite because there just weren't the right materials. He's stuck in between Twisted Alice and the Butcher Gang clones as another failed recreation.

Moving on to the next question on why Twisted Alice turn Buddy Boris into Brute Boris, when she hadn't done the same to any of the other Boris Clones.

It's hard to say really, but I think it all comes down to who Twisted Alice really is. It's very likely that, as Susie Campbell, she would have knowledge of the comic strips. A few were most likely made into cartoon shorts even (which isn't an unusual assumption to make), and maybe Susie voiced a few background characters for said shorts.

Susie may have lost her role as Alice, but before Joey came to her with his proposition for the "special project" it's very likely that she remained in the studio, forced to do the voices of characters that weren't noteworthy or that she felt completely disconnected from (talking chairs and singing hens really don't become beloved fan-favourites) . Maybe if the Souper Boris story was made into a short, she might have voiced Miss Twisted (which honestly would be personally insulting considering she once had the role of the main heroine).

Point is, Susie knows her lore, and that translates to Twisted Alice's repertoire of insightful knowledge on the abominations lurking around the studio.

She never did turn other Boris clones into brutish lackeys because at the time she didn't need to. But it doesn't mean she hadn't considered it. Henry's disruptive behaviour is just what she needed to put that plan into motion.

There was already a "Cameraman" walking about, one that could easily rip apart anything it came across, so acquiring the means to recreate the "Brute" would have been benefiting from her point of view. The Projectionist doesn't take orders and can't be reasoned with, so if she could make something just as strong that took her orders she could, theoretically, be safe from most terrors in the studio. If that didn't work, she would still likely send others to their death by simply sending them down to Level 14, or maybe lure the Projectionist to them herself (just because he doesn't take orders doesn't mean she can't use him to achieve her end goals).

Miss Twisted, the Brute and Cameraman in their evil swamp lair.

But why Buddy Boris specifically? Why couldn't she have used any of the bodies laying around? Freshness most likely. Rigor mortis is probably still a thing, even for living cartoons. Easier to work a fresh dead body than a bunch of stiff wolves.

That's at least why I think Brute Boris is a thing. Susie's knowledge of most Bendy cartoon/comic strip characters, taking inspiration from the Projectionist's presence, and honestly a very twisted sense of humor and irony. In her quest to become a Perfect Alice, the heroine of the show, she ended up becoming just as antagonistic (although more sadistic) as Miss Twisted, a Bendy comic strip villainess.

[frogcook]

"Er, h-hello Theo-san! I was wondering if you would be able to make kalua pig. It's a dish native to my hometown, just a little village boarded by the Coral Sea. T-Truth be told, I've been feeling a little homesick lately, a-and I need a little pick me up since work at the lounge has been so stressful... b-but please don't feel pressured to or anything! I wouldn't want to trouble you!" - a stuttering Octa A-kun

(Reminder to watch watchers Dish Granted)

"D'awwww, take it easy lil' guy, dunno what your employers are doing to you but you're always welcome here."

The mention of homesickness had also struck a chord within Theo. After sitting the student down he started to look up kalua pig on his phone.

"Truth be told I miss home too… see ya ain't alone! It's no biggie to do this for you. Anything to close that space between your heart."

He gave the student a hearty thump on his back, although he may have underestimated his fragility just a bit.

"Oops sorry! Haha I forget my own strength sometimes… Anyways! It seems relatively simple although I don't really have an underground oven… and uh, do you mind waiting here for 16 hours?"

Even if he can't see the student's face he can tell that's a no.

"Hey hey it's not a bother! Not a bother at all! We'll think of something I'm sure!"

Oh no he messed up didn't he? Now he's upset and oh god what's Theo going to do? A head pat, that's what he's going to do.

"Don't be upset now… Because I have an idea. You're from Night Raven right? They only accept the best of the best, so that means you're one of the best! So, I'll need your help alright?"

After seeing the student's eyes light up behind his bangs, Theo returned it with a warm smile.

"Sorry for making you work ahead of your hours… But uhm- it's relatively simple, in a way. Y'know that thing scientists use to replicate aging? It's kinda like that but magic. Normally it would be a heavy load on one person but since you're here you can probably help. It may make you feel tired if you're up to the task."

"Nothing I'm not used to…"

"Huh? Get some rest after this alright? I'll show that good for nothin' boss how to treat their employees correctly…"

Most unlike his normal demeanor he took on a grumpy face before realizing he may be scaring his guest.

"Ahahaha don't worry about it! Sit down and relax, it's your time off!"

With a brief session of washing his hands, it was off to the pantry! Or the fridge since there was some pork butt hidden around the back. He didn't know what to do with it until now. Using a carving fork, he would poke holes all over, though the force put into them seems slightly more violent than normal. While slathering the meat with salt and sauces he chirped up with his own thoughts.

"What's the village like? It sounds homely. Did ya see any of the merpeople? It's really interesting how diverse life is huh. Oh you surf? That's awesome! I'd love to see it one day."

The conversation had whittled the empty space in between and it was onto the next step.

"And would you look at that it's time! Stand by the slow cooker over there and I'll show you what to do."

After setting the meat inside the slow cooker and a quick session of sanitation, Theo took out a ladle with a green gem embedded.

"Silly, I know but hey practical! How about a little practice alright? It's just like aging and lighting something on fire! Slowly!"

Well that was very reassuring, but he has no time to think about his poor word choice! He set out an apple on the table and tapped it with the gem of his ladle. With the passing of a few seconds the apple started to heat up and age a little past it's prime.

"My condolences to this apple, but you saw that right? It's a combination of fire and time. Try to recreate it alright? This small amount won't do much harm, I think."

He sat down another apple and gave the mob student a reassuring smile. He shyly tapped the apple and surprisingly got it on the first try! Hooray! Although that joy would wither away just as the apple had because oh god it's on fire.

"Oops oops! Oh no not again-"

Theo recklessly cupped tap water from the sink and splattered it over the apple. Along with the floorboards and table.

"Okay that was on me, we should've done this outside. That was great though, although maaaaaybe you went a little overboard. Something on your mind? This is telling me that you're not having the best time. Oh and don't worry about the slow cooker, let's just say it can take the heat."

After Theo had cleaned up, he would sit him and his guest by the slow cooker.

"Alright so just tap your gem on the meat before I close it, I'll do it too. We have to keep a steady flow of magic, strong emotions could throw it off."

Gentle taps of the pork and off to hell it goes!

"We're gonna be here for an hour or so. Conversation can aid this process, mostly because the flow of feelings will be constant. So tell me about yourself! I'll talk about myself too if it helps."

And so the shadowy student started a stream of words. From his time by that quaint little village to the hell known as Night Raven College. Anger, sadness, and happiness, all apparent in his words. All the while, Theo was listening patiently.

The best part of it all, none of it threw off the flow! He must have been keeping his cool because of the meat.

"Hah! I get ya, I had to work 2 jobs before, the managers were nice because I was a kid n' all. Couldn't thank them enough. But your manager… is a kid like you? Huh? I take back what I said before, I'm going straight to his parents. It's always your old folks that influence you the most y'know? Yours have raised a mighty fine young man."

Theo gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. The student had given a bashful smile before looking away.

"Don't be so modest now! Work hard and you'll go places I promise. And grades aren't everything, work isn't everything. Sure they might help and you gotta do your best. But this is your life, live it how you want to. And live it with pride. You aren't anyone's servant, got that? Your hard work is for you and you only!"

The ding of the cooker had indicated the end of their wait. Theo pulled the plug and carefully removed the pig onto a platter. He took a fork and started tearing into it, creating several juicy shreds of meat. With a few extra garnishes and sauces, it was finally ready.

"Your dish has been granted! Good job on the meat, even if it was a lil' overcooked, I think it makes it better! You've got skill, just keep working at it. What matters is that you keep going, not that you stand out. And please rest after this. I think I will too- only after I eat this with you! May or may not have made 12 servings but you can take it all-"

[alyssa-orowane]

Fantasy tropes to avoid (and ideas to reinvent them)

Hello aspiring writers of Tumblr! How is it going?

This is my first post on here and I decided to dedicate it not only to the genre I am writing in, fantasy, but also to a crucial topic, which relates and affects every genre in different ways.

TROPES.

It's lazy to build stories on something that has already been written a million times before. I don't like tropes at all as a reader. If I wanted to read the same stereotyped story all over again I would just stick to the previous book I have read with that same plot, so I would also spare myself the trouble of learning the unpronounceable names of these new stereotyped characters.

On the other hand, as a writer it might be tempting to give in and use tropes. "Why not? After all everybody uses them and I am already SO busy writing the actual chapters of my story."

I tell you what: every time a trope threatens to slide into your story, crush the page and throw it across the room, yelling:

Seriously, though: tropes are just general, undeveloped ideas. That's what you need to do, develop them. In this way only will you ever be able to unleash their hidden potential.

Without further ado, may I present you three of the most common fantasy tropes and hints to reimagine them.

*Keep in mind that this is only my personal view on the subject and you can either agree or disagree with it.

1. The chosen one

This one is the most obvious one and I am also quite sure that you expected to find it on the list. Interesting, Watson: I guess that it makes this article stereotyped too…

Well we all know those characters. Those characters that were meant to be the one. The prophecies had spoken about them long before they were even born. They might as well be the only one capable of using magic or wielding a certain weapon. This character is either the only one who pushes forward the storyline or that one protagonist who does everything except choosing anything actively in the plot. There is no in between. Either way, they only possess notable qualities. Of course there is no trace of flaws. I mean, they are the hero.

Have a side-kick (or co-protagonist) be the chosen one instead

A great idea, if you really want to insert this trope in your story, is to use it to your advantage and surprise the reader with it. Who could ever expect that the protagonist was actually never the chosen one? Or that another character is the chosen one from the start?

To see this trope well recreated I recommend watching the BBC TV series "Merlin" in which a young sorcerer, Merlin himself, must help the future heir to the throne, the prince Arthur Pendragon, to fulfill his destiny and become the greatest king who has ever lived. Arthur has no clue of what has been foretold, nor that he even is at the centre of a prophecy. All of Merlin and Arthur's choices will determine either the glorious success or the tragic failure of the quest; all of this while Merlin hides his powers from Arthur and everyone else as magic is condemned in Camelot.

2. Overused fantasy Races

...which translates mostly into putting Elves, Dwarves, Trolls, dragons and any of the Tolkenian elements and creatures in your own story. Now, don't get me wrong. Tolkien is one of my favourite authors, hence I am always captivated by those fantasy novels that display these Races in their stories. But I don't want to read a copy, I want to read your own masterpiece.

That's exactly why you should:

Redesign the well-known fantasy Races and adapt them to your world and to your theme or just create brand new ones

Personally, I absolutely LOVE to craft new fantasy Races. I believe that it adds depth and realism to the world-building (which does not consist only of geography). Each civilisation brings their culture, their traditions to your story and that's what makes a world truly breathe. In my opinion, the purpose of fantasy is not to focus just on the epic deeds narrated or on endless battles enriched with magic and legends, though those are very important part of this genre and they must be just as equally developed. The reason why I write fantasy is to spread awareness around the vast variety of themes that coexist in our society nowadays, in the first place global warming, the racism that still today people experience, LGBTQ characters which are often unrepresented both in literary fiction and TV. What better genre than fantasy is there to represent diversity and multiculturalism? On these latter points I will never not be thanking and loving the works of Steven Erikson which are part of the high-fantasy series "Malazan Book of the Fallen". Diversity and the brand new variety of intriguing Races are a huge part of what makes Malazan such an awesome fantasy series. I refer to Steven Erikson as the main inspiration of my writing and I recommend you to give a try to his books, if you have the chance. I warn you though, that it is not any light or easy reading.

The other option might be to reinvent the well-known Races. Tolkien himself did not "invent" the Elves of Middle Earth, rather he made a legend of his own after having studied the myths and ballads of ancient civilities. Then he developed their language, their history and their culture as if they were a real existing population. Every single aspect of Tolkien's worldbuilding can be read in his Silmarillion. I think it is a must-read for anyone who is looking forward to reinvent the traditional fantasy Races or just to know more about them.

3. Unfailing magic systems

Magic can be anything you want. That doesn't mean, however, that it should be your escape point: stuff in your story should happen because of your characters, not only because of magic as it is simpler to put it that way. A magic system should be rational and engaging. The reader needs to be able to understand exactly how, when and why does magic work in your world. No, the answer should not be "because it's fantasy."

Set rules, limits and costs to the magic in your world

How do character gain magic abilities? Is magic accessible to everyone or is it elitist? Is it taught in specialised schools or is it something that resonates from within? Are wizards free to practice magic or is it banned? Or maybe are there only specific areas of magic that are prohibited? What is its source? Does magic come from higher beings or are spells more powerful the stronger the mage's will? Does magic need a catalyst (such as a talisman, a weapon etc.) to be casted? If not, do wizard recite spells? Do they need to trace specific symbols? Otherwise is it necessary to make specific hand gestures in order to release their powers? Does it exist only one system for all mages to use or are there multiple kinds? Last but not least, what are magic users in your world called? It's all up to you to decide. Ask questions and let each question lead you to another one. You need to know exactly how your magic system works and so does the reader.

What I love about crafting magic systems is the freedom to establish the boundaries and the natural laws that apply to your world, as magic is a huge part of the story if you're writing fantasy. Well, this could also lead to another question: is your world actually ruled by magic forces or do magic abilities have just a marginal role in the world building?

Remember that magic should not be used as an excuse to fill eventual plot holes in your story. Your magic system should function correctly and it should always stay true to itself. In other words, it must be believable.

And I can hear you thinking "but it‘s magic!"

Then guess what? You need to make the readers believe that magic is real!

First of all, set the rules, the limits and the costs that apply to your system. Having done that, you'll have finished most of the work that concerns the use of magic in your world. Most, not all. If you are a bit of a perfectionist like I am, consider the importance of developing your system furthermore by asking yourself questions, such as the one I have written above.

Rules: decide what makes your system work and what magic can be casted for.

Limits: decide what kind of tasks your magic system cannot perform.

Costs: decide from what kind of source is magic obtained from and, literally, what does it cost to mages to obtain their magic from this source (as Rumpelstiltskin of OUAT wisely says: "all magic comes with a price.")

The most excellent and well-rounded magic systems I have ever come across are the ones created by Brandon Sanderson in this "Mistborn" trilogy: allomancy, feruchemy and hemalurgy. All three magic system permit the magicians to use a wide range of abilities based on the metals they can "burn". Magic originates in the Shards and from Preservation and Ruin, two god-like beings. If you're already interested, I definitely recommend you to check Sanderson's novels out: they are a useful resource of inspiration.

I hope this post has somehow given you the inspiration to go and write right now. 
If you have questions about some of the points or requests for the next articles, don't be shy and send me a message! I will try to cover your topic as soon as possible and as best as I can (and I will also tag your profile, if you agree). 
Thank you all for your attention. Bisous^^

[fashion-editorial]

Styling Task

For this task, I wanted to create a look that had a lockdown feel. As I didn’t have any clothing that I could customise, I felt as though a simple two piece and an oversized dad blazer would create an effortless look. I was inspired by Jess Hunts instagram post which I have added below which she uploaded during the first lockdown at the start of the pandemic. The pandemic has forced us to stay home and work with what we have and as we are now in another lockdown I thought this would work well. I live with only my mum and step dad so I didn't have a model to use in this quick task so I decided to use myself. I don't usually take a lot of photos of myself but thought I needed to push myself out of my comfort zone to Get a good outcome out of this task. I researched a few poses on instagram and recreated them to get these images. The backdrop was inspired by Jess Hunts post as well as she photographed herself in her bed which I thought was very relevant to life now. The fairy lights with the netting was already on the wall as my mum put these up in the hallway and I thought this would be an advantage for my shoot. I then just put a bedsheet on the floor to keep the background white.   

I decided to pair a two piece and my grandads suit blazer together, as well as some white socks, and brown sunglasses, the sunglasses made it feel sleeker. The socks worked well as they had a contrast to the blazer, but the white two piece tied the look together. My hair was in a sleek ponytail to make it look effortless.

I then wanted to try editing the images slightly to see what I could experiment with and just kept it simple. I am happy with these quick images.