#The Ripple Effect

[queenofthelanternfish]

Quick iPad sketch of my OCs, Aurora (left) and Odessa (right).

[the-darkdragonfly]

NEW CHAPTER! A Trick of the Light

Chapter Twelve: Back Again

I know I know! But we're here now...

♥️♥️♥️♥️

The baby bag, which had begun to feel like another family member to Emma and himself ever since they had received it as a gift from Ruby, always filled to the brim with toddler approved snacks- I think those are meant to be given to Hope, Swan- which Emma had delighted in stealing- I’ve told you, toddler snacks and Emma snacks are the same thing, babe- lay toppled at Killian’s feet, having tumbled down from where he had tossed it haphazardly before they set sail from the small harbour only moments before, and when he knelt to retrieve it, Hope teary faced and reaching for him, something crinkled from the one of the outermost pockets. 

At the familiar noise, Emma sat up from her place against the wall, Hope having crawled into her lap the moment she had sunk to the floor, eyes suddenly clear as she whispered exaggeratedly slowly at him- is that a fruit snack?- as if their children wouldn't be interested in what she was saying when the word ‘snack’ was involved if she said it slowly enough. 

Hope cried again, her face scrunched in annoyance hands grabbing towards him- come here, little lovie, that was scary, I know, I’m sorry- whispering a broken plea for snacks against his neck, her curls tickling the skin on his throat, her speech less pronounced, softened as it had been when she was so much younger. 

Emma shuffled Liam into her vacated lap, plucking the boy gently from where he’d been laying against her thigh, happily chewing on the corner of the rug- oh, baby, no, that’s yucky- and reached into the bag, eyes wide with excitement. 

A veil of memory swam before Killian’s eyes, cool and refreshing, soft around the edges as the tension which had carried them away from the curse of Camelot cleared like morning fog from a lake, a memory of Emma several months earlier, pregnant in their Storybrooke kitchen, a scowl on her lovely face. 

“Can you put this somewhere?” Emma had huffed in annoyance, handing him the bag of generic brand sour soothers- they’re better than the big famous ones, babe- her third that week if he’d been keeping track properly, which, he knew, he probably hadn’t been. 

“Where shall I put them, then, love?” 

“Somewhere I can’t get them, I’m obsessed. It has to stop.” 

He privately agreed, but two pregnancies had taught him that honesty wasn’t always the best course of action, and he took the package from her outstretched hand- you’re a pirate, you have to be good at hiding treasure- raising an eyebrow. 

“I might not have to hide them, Swan…” 

“What do you-” she didn’t get to finish the remainder of her question as his smile widened in mischief and he dropped the package at her feet, her belly ensuring the task of retrieving the treats nearly impossible- if you can get them, then you’ve earned them, love. 

“Wow.” 

♥️♥️♥️♥️

Read the rest here.

Read my other stuff here.

♥️♥️♥️♥️

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[fruitpiefantasy]

SAMPO IS FIVE FOOT NINE???

[the-zapped-part-timer]

Penn Zerothon Day 14

The Ripple Effect🌀

My Ramblings:

~The Characters~

Penn Zero:

Boone Wiseman:

Sashi Kobayashi:

Rippen:

Larry:

Dimension(s):

Forms:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Where Dragons Dare🐲

My Ramblings:

~The Characters~

Penn Zero:

Boone Wiseman:

Sashi Kobayashi:

Rippen:

Larry:

Dimension(s):

Forms:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rip-Penn🧪

My Ramblings:

~The Characters~

Penn Zero:

Boone Wiseman:

Sashi Kobayashi:

Rippen:

Larry:

Dimension(s):

Forms:

[the-ephemeral-ethereal]

Perhaps love is nothing but the ripple effect of those disturbances which, in the wake of an emotion, stir up the soul.

from In Search of Lost Time, Book 5: The Prisoner by Marcel Proust

[drakenfors]

”Det har alltid handlat om gitarrer”

Hans trettonde album – The Ripple Effect – har precis lämnat skivpressarna och nu väntar han på att få åka ut och spela låtarna. Efter mer än 40 år som musiker har gitarristen Rolf Jardemark allt annat än tappat sugen. – Nej, det här är grejen för mig, och har varit det ända sen tonåren, säger han.

TEXT THOMAS DRAKENFORS  FOTO MAGNUS BERGSTRÖM

I ett komplex som kallas Bunkern, på grund av sin massiva betongframtoning och brist på fönster, har Rolf Jardemark sitt epicentrum som musiker. Fastigheten ligger mitt i centrala Göteborg, en bit upp i Viktoriagatans branta backe, granne med ett kampsportcenter. Den hårda kontexten verkar perfekt för ett Heavy metal-band. Men med sitt eteriska och lätta gitarrsound tycks Rolf Jardemark liksom ha hamnat mitt i fel slags markörer. – Ja, det är lite lustigt när man tänker på det, säger han. Han är ett av de där namnen som liksom är synonymt med svensk jazz på gitarr, helt klart i är det så i hemstaden Göteborg i alla fall. Ett av de där proffsen som är hemma i improvisation, men som även kan läsa noter lika lätt som vi andra tar oss an kvällstidningarnas brödtext.

Karriären som musiker och pedagog är lång. Under åren har han gett ut ett tiotal album med huvudsakligen egna kompositioner. Det senaste, Ripple Effect, där bland andra namnkunniga pianisten Lars Jansson medverkar, har precis blivit klart och skickats ut till landets recensenter. Titeln är lite filosofisk. – Det handlar om att goda handlingar sprider sig som ringar på vattnet. Ungefär som ”pay it forward”. Jag tänker mig att det fungerar så även med musik. Livet som musiker framstår ofta som lite glamoröst när man ser dem på scen. I bunkern på Viktoriagatan känns det lite annorlunda. Ett krypin belamrat med olika instrument och en dator. Ingen utsikt alls. Precis som om kreativiteten föds ur torftighet. – Ja, det lämnar ju onekligen en del över till fantasin. Svenska jazzmusiker har gott rykte internationellt, och Rolf Jardemark har bland annat haft samarbeten med amerikanske keyboardisten Michael Ruff (Chaka Khan, Lionel Ritchie). – Vi gjorde en turné i Norden 1987. Det var första gången jag fick vara med i ett sammanhang på den proffsiga nivån. Helt klart en av höjdpunkterna i min karriär, säger han.

En rad andra samarbeten har gjort avtryck, som dem han har haft ihop med musiker som trumpetaren Jan Allan, gitarristen Rune Gustafsson och den egensinnige amerikanske gitarristen John Stowell. Men hur började allt det här? För Rolf Jardemarks del kickade musikintresset igång på 70-talet, hemma i pojkrummet i Västra Frölunda. Hans kompis hade en gitarr som han fick köpa loss för fem kronor. – Plus att han visade mig några grepp som jag kunde komma igång med. Sedan skaffade han en ackordbok, började öva och blev fast med tonerna. Via musiklinjen på gymnasiet tog han sig vidare till musikhögskolan i Göteborg där han studerade improvisation, och hade klassisk gitarr som biinstrument. Under tiden på universitetet började han även spela ute på klubbar och blev kompis med gitarristen Peter Almqvist, som några år senare fick internationellt genomslag i duon Guitars Unlimited, tillsammans med Ulf Wakenius. – Jag och Peter jobbade tillsammans i en gitarraffär, och både han och Ulf blev något av mentorer för mig. Efter musikhögskolan började ett liv som yrkesmusiker. Förutom spelningar på jazzklubbar fick han även påhugg som kompmusiker i olika husband på tv, bland annat På spåret och Bingolotto. Sedan 2009 har han även medverkat i Göteborgsoperans musikaluppsättningar. – Många gånger har jag påpekat det för mina elever på olika skolor att de koncentrerar sig för mycket på att spela solo. De övar 95 procent på det, men bara fem procent på att kompa. Men verkligheten som musiker är precis tvärtom.

På senare år har Göteborgs jazzscen växt. Förutom att etablerade Nefertiti blivit till två olika scener har jazzklubbarna Unity Jazz och Utopia börjat dra publik. Kul tycker Rolf Jardemark, som ofta är ute och spelar på de olika haken. I höst fyller han 63, vilket inte är mycket att bekymra sig om för en jazzmusiker – genren är inte speciellt åldersfixerad. – Det är väl först upp i 80-årsåldern det kan bli lite svårare rent tekniskt, men det kan leda till andra fördelar. Själv har jag i alla fall inga planer på att lägga av, jag älskar fortfarande det här.

Fakta: Rolf Jardemark Ålder: 62 år. Yrke: Musiker. Bor: Guldheden i Göteborg. Familj: Fru och två barn, två barnbarn. Intressen: Spelar tennis. Lyssnar på: Just nu mycket på gitarrmusik från New York, som Jonathan Kreisberg, Yotam Silberstein. Läser: Romaner, fakta och biografier. Kör: Kia Ceed, 2015. Aktuell: Med albumet The Ripple Effect.

Rolf Jardemark om … … det bästa med att vara musiker: ”Det är att stå där på scen och spela live, med musiker jag gillar och för en bra publik. Få saker slår det.” … det sämsta med jobbet: ”Att kulturpolitiken i Sverige huvudsakligen gynnar de stora, fasta institutionerna. Som frilansmusiker gäller det få det att gå runt av sig själv.”   … att öva: ”Jag börjar alltid dagarna med att öva någon timme för att komma igång, sedan medverkar jag i olika sammanhang, som musikaler på Göteborgsoperan till exempel. Det måste jag öva en del på. Det blir minst tre fyra timmar om dagen.” … han aldrig har längtat efter ett vanligt kneg: ”Nä … det har jag inte. När jag tänker på det har jag faktiskt aldrig haft något arbete som inte handlat om gitarrer.”

[the-darkdragonfly]

Then you have the audacity to create a cantankerous horse... Oops...

having OC’s is crazy for real because no one else gives a fuck meanwhile you’ll be at the function thinking about them (guys who are not real) like

[michelleberrybliss]

The Power of Commitment on the Journey of Self-Discovery

In the profound journey of self-discovery, commitment is the potent force that fuels transformation. Embracing inner strength, growth, and intention, we navigate the path with resilience and purpose, inspiring positive change in ourselves and others.

Unlocking the Potential Within In the labyrinth of life, the journey of self-discovery is perhaps the most profound and transformative odyssey one can embark upon. It’s a quest to uncover the deepest truths of our being, to peel back the layers of conditioning and societal expectations, and to connect with the essence of who we truly are. At the heart of this journey lies a potent force – the…

[xponentialdesign]

Chroma Undulatione My contribution for #objkt4objkt open edition: ended: 49 editions minted. COLLECT

[queenofthelanternfish]

Hi! I really wanted to know what Odessa's face looks like when she's filled with deep hatred, like you said when she's in meltdown or shutdown. Please explain to me

She would look something like this. It’s a cold rage more than anything, where you know you’re in danger due to the deafening silence and stillness.

[the-darkdragonfly]

NEW CHAPTER! A Trick of the Light

Chapter Eleven: Home Winds

Hello lovelies! I think we all owe a HUGE thanks to @donteattheappleshook for making sure I stayed on track for this long overdue chapter ♥️

♥️♥️♥️♥️

“So,” Emma said over a mouthful of toast- would you like some bread with your honey, love?- Hope lying at her feet under the table, happily singing old tavern songs Emma pretended not to hear. “Let me get this straight.” 

The Knights has called a Round Table, Emma snorting into her tea as the paige delivered the request for Killian’s presence- it’s just just such a wonderful use of corporate jargon, that’s all- to discuss the future of the kingdom, and to catch the new king up on anything and everything they felt he needed to know. 

Which was practically everything, much to his chagrin. 

“No one knows where Arthur is.” 

“Correct.” 

“No one knows what happened to Merlin.” 

“Correct.” 

“No one has seen or heard from Lancelot in ‘they can’t remember how long’.” 

“Correct again, love.” 

A small hand appeared beside Killian’s elbow and he leaned down to nip gently at the wiggling fingers, the hand disappeared at the same time as Hope’s manic giggling broke the comfortable quiet from beneath the wooden frame before her small hand reappeared, trying again. Killian smiled and pressed a slice of apple into her waiting palm- what do we say, lovie?- and her voice floated up to them amid the crunching of her treat- t’anks, daddy. 

Emma grinned wickedly at him for a moment and he narrowed his eyes at her- no, Swan, don’t- before she flicked her hair, correcting him as she usually did- Jones- and tucking the inevitable daddy comment away for future yielding.  

♥️♥️♥️♥️

Read the rest here.

Read my other stuff here.

♥️♥️♥️♥️

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[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Signs

They were subtle. You needed to pay close attention to see them. Most people didn’t, but that was not important. The pair that mattered, when it came to perceiving these signs, had learned to read them as others read the newspaper.

***

It started not long after they met at Barts. They walked down Baker Street from the tube station. Sherlock’s expression soured when he saw the black door.

“What is it?” John asked, already fine-tuned to his flatmate’s moods. 

They tended to have a ripple effect on how the rest of the day went.

“My brother is here,” Sherlocks said darkly.

“How do you know that?” John asked and looked up to see if anyone was standing by the window upstairs. 

Nothing.

“Look. Observe!” Sherlock demanded.

“Oh,” John said after a few seconds. “The knocker is straight.”

“Good man,” Sherlock praised. “I always keep it askew to know when he’s here. He can’t stand to see anything out of place.”

“So, he always straightens it before he comes in,” John finished with a chuckle.

“Indeed,” Sherlock beamed. “Knew you’d get there.”

***

A cup of cold tea at the table beside his chair, or on the kitchen table, was another sign. Even if Sherlock forgot he’d asked for tea or said he wanted a cuppa when John asked him, John always provided them without fail. He never complained that Sherlock forgot. 

It’s alright. I know you’re busy, but I want you to know that I’ll make as many cups as you’ll like. Because I care.

***

Hot baths when the weather was damp and cold, and they’d been out solving crimes for far too long. Without even asking, Sherlock filled the tub with scolding hot water for John.

Here, I’m proving that I’m not a sociopath. I would be lost without you. Now, let this bath heal your old wound so you’ll be fit to follow on my heels when a new adventure comes our way.

***

After a while, a sinister ploy almost forced them apart.

“Run, Sherlock! Save yourself. I’m a soldier. You’re not. Run, for Christ’s sake. Save that brilliant brain of yours!”

Eyes locked. An entire conversation took place over a span of seconds.

I’m not going anywhere. I will go to hell and back with you, John Watson.

“Told you you had a heart, Sherlock,” a sing-song voice echoed through the tiled room.

***

Frantic movements, thoughts of a loved one’s demise if you weren’t quick enough made hands tremble, heart racing, tears flowing. Finally, the parka with the bomb was torn off John and flung across the floor.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Answer me, John!”

Hands roaming over a body he’d barely touched before.

“Fine, Sherlock. Not hurt, just a bit shaken. Stop it! Breathe, Sherlock.”

A hug, so tight it made it hard to breathe for both of them.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“People will talk.” 

“I don’t care!”

A tentative kiss, turning desperate.

I have loved you for so long. Please, don’t let this scare you. I need you in my life. To function. To thrive. To feel whole.

***

At a crime scene. Deciding on the next cause of action. A nod, eyes meeting, a ghost of a smile showing off a dimple.

Ready? Always. Follow me, then. Right beside you.

***

The ripple effect of their extraordinary relationship reached far and wide. Every newspaper in the country at first. They told the story of a consulting detective and his loyal blogger, his doctor, his soldier. It didn’t feel right to say one name without the other anymore. They were an item now, in every capacity of the word. 

When there was a crime unsolvable to the police, the tall and handsome detective appeared like a whirlwind. By his side, the unassuming blogger, doctor, soldier radiated calmness. But by now everyone knew that hidden behind that collected façade, was a man ready to run after the mad detective, protecting him from harm’s way, kill if necessary.

News travel fast, and before long the entire world had heard of the great Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson. A pair every criminal feared, and yet some of them always thought they could outwit them with their ingenious scheme. To date, no one has been successful in their endeavours.

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