#artist prepper

[linipik]

In an attempt to preserve my comics, fandom art, and such and the love, effort, and fun I had while creating it, I've been uploading these digital collections for anyone to download ... because I don't see the point of having them buried in my PC catching virtual dust or subject to the nonsense-of-the-week that social media has going more often each time.

And so, I upload them to my Ko-fi shop for free/or on a pay-what-you-want basis.

What I create is for people, not for training software or giving random companies money. I firmly believe that art is only completed when it has a public and that you, dear reader, have an active role in completing a story by experiencing it. So these are for all the fans too, y'all make this house a home.

And if you ask yourself "Why get the PDF? " I have a couple of reasons:

I put a lot of effort into making some panels and details better, and the comics have fewer typos than the version I posted.

With the way social media deletes things randomly, I really don’t want these comics to disappear into the internet void… This is the best way I have to preserve them and for you all to enjoy them without having to print them.

Extra content! Since I develop ideas for YEARS, I like curating and organizing my ideas/drawings so the whole project feels cohesive, has some behind-the-scenes process, and looks rad af.

I don't like putting fanart behind a paywall but I'm not gonna lie, sometimes getting paid for a bit of hard work is rewarding and any tip means a lot to me. That's why these are up in a pay-what-you-want

I still have so much art to create,  organize, and share with you all! keep an eye on my ko-fi for more <3

[fortunaestalta]

[macrolit]

NYT's Notable Books of 2023

Each year, we pore over thousands of new books, seeking out the best novels, memoirs, biographies, poetry collections, stories and more. Here are the standouts, selected by the staff of The New York Times Book Review.

AFTER SAPPHO by Selby Wynn Schwartz

Inspired by Sappho’s work, Schwartz’s debut novel offers an alternate history of creativity at the turn of the 20th century, one that centers queer women artists, writers and intellectuals who refused to accept society’s boundaries.

ALL THE SINNERS BLEED by S.A. Cosby

In his earlier thrillers, Cosby worked the outlaw side of the crime genre. In his new one — about a Black sheriff in a rural Southern town, searching for a serial killer who tortures Black children — he’s written a crackling good police procedural.

THE BEE STING by Paul Murray

In Murray’s boisterous tragicomic novel, a once wealthy Irish family struggles with both the aftermath of the 2008 financial crash and their own inner demons.

BIOGRAPHY OF X by Catherine Lacey

Lacey rewrites 20th-century U.S. history through the audacious fictional life story of X, a polarizing female performance artist who made her way from the South to New York City’s downtown art scene.

BIRNAM WOOD by Eleanor Catton

In this action-packed novel from a Booker Prize winner, a collective of activist gardeners crosses paths with a billionaire doomsday prepper on land they each want for different purposes.

BLACKOUTS by Justin Torres

This lyrical, genre-defying novel — winner of the 2023 National Book Award — explores what it means to be erased and how to persist after being wiped away.

BRIGHT YOUNG WOMEN by Jessica Knoll

In her third and most assured novel, Knoll shifts readers’ attention away from a notorious serial killer, Ted Bundy, and onto the lives — and deaths — of the women he killed. Perhaps for the first time in fiction, Knoll pooh-poohs Bundy's much ballyhooed intelligence, celebrating the promise and perspicacity of his victims instead.

CHAIN-GANG ALL-STARS by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

This satire — in which prison inmates duel on TV for a chance at freedom — makes readers complicit with the bloodthirsty fans sitting ringside. The fight scenes are so well written they demonstrate how easy it might be to accept a world this sick.

THE COVENANT OF WATER by Abraham Verghese

Verghese’s first novel since “Cutting for Stone” follows generations of a family across 77 years in southwestern India as they contend with political strife and other troubles — capped by a shocking discovery made by the matriarch’s granddaughter, a doctor.

CROOK MANIFESTO by Colson Whitehead

Returning to the world of his novel “Harlem Shuffle,” Whitehead again uses a crime story to illuminate a singular neighborhood at a tipping point — here, Harlem in the 1970s.

THE DELUGE by Stephen Markley

Markley’s second novel confronts the scale and gravity of climate change, tracking a cadre of scientists and activists from the gathering storm of the Obama years to the super-typhoons of future decades. Immersive and ambitious, the book shows the range of its author’s gifts: polyphonic narration, silken sentences and elaborate world-building.

EASTBOUND by Maylis de Kerangal

In de Kerangal’s brief, lyrical novel, translated by Jessica Moore, a young Russian soldier on a trans-Siberian train decides to desert and turns to a civilian passenger, a Frenchwoman, for help.

EMILY WILDE’S ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF FAERIES by Heather Fawcett

The world-building in this tale of a woman documenting a new kind of faerie is exquisite, and the characters are just as textured and richly drawn. This is the kind of folkloric fantasy that remembers the old, blood-ribboned source material about sacrifices and stolen children, but adds a modern gloss.

ENTER GHOST by Isabella Hammad

In Hammad’s second novel, a British Palestinian actor returns to her hometown in Israel to recover from a breakup and spend time with her family. Instead, she’s talked into joining a staging of “Hamlet” in the West Bank, where she has a political awakening.

FORBIDDEN NOTEBOOK by Alba de Céspedes

A best-selling novelist and prominent anti-Fascist in her native Italy, de Céspedes has lately fallen into unjust obscurity. Translated by Ann Goldstein, this elegant novel from the 1950s tells the story of a married mother, Valeria, whose life is transformed when she begins keeping a secret diary.

THE FRAUD by Zadie Smith

Based on a celebrated 19th-century trial in which the defendant was accused of impersonating a nobleman, Smith’s novel offers a vast panoply of London and the English countryside, and successfully locates the social controversies of an era in a handful of characters.

FROM FROM by Monica Youn

In her fourth book of verse, a svelte, intrepid foray into American racism, Youn turns a knowing eye on society’s love-hate relationship with what it sees as the “other.”

A GUEST IN THE HOUSE by Emily Carroll

After a lonely young woman marries a mild-mannered widower and moves into his home, she begins to wonder how his first wife actually died. This graphic novel alternates between black-and-white and overwhelming colors as it explores the mundane and the horrific.

THE HEAVEN & EARTH GROCERY STORE by James McBride

McBride’s latest, an intimate, big-hearted tale of community, opens with a human skeleton found in a well in the 1970s, and then flashes back to the past, to the ’20s and ’30s, to explore the town’s Black, Jewish and immigrant history.

HELLO BEAUTIFUL by Ann Napolitano

In her radiant fourth novel, Napolitano puts a fresh spin on the classic tale of four sisters and the man who joins their family. Take “Little Women,” move it to modern-day Chicago, add more intrigue, lots of basketball and a different kind of boy next door and you’ve got the bones of this thoroughly original story.

A HISTORY OF BURNING by Janika Oza

This remarkable debut novel tells the story of an extended Indo-Ugandan family that is displaced, settled and displaced again.

HOLLY by Stephen King

The scrappy private detective Holly Gibney (who appeared in “The Outsider” and several other novels) returns, this time taking on a missing-persons case that — in typical King fashion — unfolds into a tale of Dickensian proportions.

A HOUSE FOR ALICE by Diana Evans

This polyphonic novel traces one family’s reckoning after the patriarch dies in a fire, as his widow, a Nigerian immigrant, considers returning to her home country and the entire family re-examines the circumstances of their lives.

THE ILIAD by Homer

Emily Wilson’s propulsive new translation of the “Iliad” is buoyant and expressive; she wants this version to be read aloud, and it would certainly be fun to perform.

INK BLOOD SISTER SCRIBE by Emma Törzs

The sisters in Törzs's delightful debut have been raised to protect a collection of magic books that allow their keepers to do incredible things. Their story accelerates like a fugue, ably conducted to a tender conclusion.

KAIROS by Jenny Erpenbeck

This tale of a torrid, yearslong relationship between a young woman and a much older married man — translated from the German by Michael Hofmann — is both profound and moving.

KANTIKA by Elizabeth Graver

Inspired by the life of Graver’s maternal grandmother, this exquisitely imagined family saga spans cultures and continents as it traces the migrations of a Sephardic Jewish girl from turn-of-the-20th-century Constantinople to Barcelona, Havana and, finally, Queens, N.Y.

LAND OF MILK AND HONEY by C Pam Zhang

Zhang’s lush, keenly intelligent novel follows a chef who’s hired to cook for an “elite research community” in the Italian Alps, in a not-so-distant future where industrial-agricultural experiments in America’s heartland have blanketed the globe in a crop-smothering smog.

LONE WOMEN by Victor LaValle

The year is 1915, and the narrator of LaValle’s horror-tinged western has arrived in Montana to cultivate an unforgiving homestead. She’s looking for a fresh start as a single Black woman in a sparsely populated state, but the locked trunk she has in stow holds a terrifying secret.

MONICA by Daniel Clowes

In Clowes’s luminous new work, the titular character, abandoned by her mother as a child, endures a life of calamities before resolving to learn about her origins and track down her parents.

THE MOST SECRET MEMORY OF MEN by Mohamed Mbougar Sarr

Based on a true story and translated by Lara Vergnaud, Sarr’s novel — about a Senegalese writer brought low by a plagiarism scandal — asks sharp questions about the state of African literature in the West.

THE NEW NATURALS by Gabriel Bump

In Bump’s engrossing new novel, a young Black couple, mourning the loss of their newborn daughter and disillusioned with the world, start a utopian society — but tensions both internal and external soon threaten their dreams.

NORTH WOODS by Daniel Mason

Mason’s novel looks at the occupants of a single house in Massachusetts over several centuries, from colonial times to present day. An apple farmer, an abolitionist, a wealthy manufacturer: The book follows these lives and many others, with detours into natural history and crime reportage.

NOT EVEN THE DEAD by Juan Gómez Bárcena

An ex-conquistador in Spanish-ruled, 16th-century Mexico is asked to hunt down an Indigenous prophet in this novel by a leading writer in Spain, splendidly translated by Katie Whittemore. The epic search stretches across much of the continent and, as the author bends time and history, lasts centuries.

THE NURSERY by Szilvia Molnar

“I used to be a translator and now I am a milk bar.” So begins Molnar’s brilliant novel about a new mother falling apart within the four walls of her apartment.

OUR SHARE OF NIGHT by Mariana Enriquez

This dazzling, epic narrative, translated from the Spanish by Megan McDowell, is a bewitching brew of mystery and myth, peopled by mediums who can summon “the Darkness” for a secret society of wealthy occultists seeking to preserve consciousness after death.

PINEAPPLE STREET by Jenny Jackson

Jackson’s smart, dishy debut novel embeds readers in an upper-crust Brooklyn Heights family — its real estate, its secrets, its just-like-you-and-me problems. Does money buy happiness? “Pineapple Street” asks a better question: Does it buy honesty?

THE REFORMATORY by Tananarive Due

Due’s latest — about a Black boy, Robert, who is wrongfully sentenced to a fictionalized version of Florida’s infamous and brutal Dozier School — is both an incisive examination of the lingering traumas of racism and a gripping, ghost-filled horror novel. “The novel’s extended, layered denouement is so heart-smashingly good, it made me late for work,” Randy Boyagoda wrote in his review. “I couldn’t stop reading.”

THE SAINT OF BRIGHT DOORS by Vajra Chandrasekera

Trained to kill by his mother and able to see demons, the protagonist of Chandrasekera’s stunning and lyrical novel flees his destiny as an assassin and winds up in a politically volatile metropolis.

SAME BED DIFFERENT DREAMS by Ed Park

Double agents, sinister corporations, slasher films, U.F.O.s — Park’s long-awaited second novel is packed to the gills with creative elements that enliven his acerbic, comedic and lyrical odyssey into Korean history and American paranoia.

TAKE WHAT YOU NEED by Idra Novey

This elegant novel resonates with implication beyond the taut contours of its central story line. In Novey’s deft hands, the complex relationship between a young woman and her former stepmother hints at the manifold divisions within America itself.

THIS OTHER EDEN by Paul Harding

In his latest novel, inspired by the true story of a devastating 1912 eviction in Maine that displaced an entire mixed-race fishing community, Harding turns that history into a lyrical tale about the fictional Apple Island on the cusp of destruction.

TOM LAKE by Ann Patchett

Locked down on the family’s northern Michigan cherry orchard, three sisters and their mother, a former actress whose long-ago summer fling went on to become a movie star, reflect on love and regret in Patchett’s quiet and reassuring Chekhovian novel.

THE UNSETTLED by Ayana Mathis

This novel follows three generations across time and place: a young mother trying to create a home for herself and her son in 1980s Philadelphia, and her mother, who is trying to save their Alabama hometown from white supremacists seeking to displace her from her land.

VICTORY CITY by Salman Rushdie

Rushdie’s new novel recounts the long life of Pampa Kampana, who creates an empire from magic seeds in 14th-century India. Her world is one of peace, where men and women are equal and all faiths welcome, but the story Rushdie tells is of a state that forever fails to live up to its ideals.

WE COULD BE SO GOOD by Cat Sebastian

This queer midcentury romance — about reporters who meet at work, become friends, move in together and fall in love — lingers on small, everyday acts like bringing home flowers with the groceries, things that loom large because they’re how we connect with others.

WESTERN LANE by Chetna Maroo

In this polished and disciplined debut novel, an 11-year-old Jain girl in London who has just lost her mother turns her attention to the game of squash — which in Maroo’s graceful telling becomes a way into the girl’s grief.

WITNESS by Jamel Brinkley

Set in Brooklyn, and featuring animal rescue workers, florists, volunteers, ghosts and UPS workers, Brinkley’s new collection meditates on what it means to see and be seen.

Y/N by Esther Yi

In this weird and wondrous novel, a bored young woman in thrall to a boy band buys a one-way ticket to Seoul.

YELLOWFACE by R.F. Kuang

Kuang’s first foray outside of the fantasy genre is a breezy and propulsive tale about a white woman who achieves tremendous literary success by stealing a manuscript from a recently deceased Asian friend and passing it off as her own.

[beaft]

Got any book recommendations? (Im on a hold list at my local library for the goblin emperor)

it depends what you like! here are some books of various genres that really stood out to me over the past few months:

the bee sting by paul murray (tragicomic family saga)

glass and god by anne carson (selected poetry/essays)

what moves the dead by t. kingfisher (gothic fantasy retelling of "the fall of the house of usher")

the sundial by shirley jackson (psychological thriller about a family of apocalypse preppers)

borne by jeff vandermeer (post-apocalyptic "new weird" fiction about the bond between a scavenger woman and her adopted monster-child)

strange practice by vivian shaw (1800s fantasy with some really excellent vampires)

city of glass by paul auster (detective noir with bonus surrealism)

normal rules don't apply by kate atkinson (linked short stories)

monsters by claire dederer (essay collection about great artists who were terrible people)

[thecoffeelorian]

Fandom Friday--The Fanart Edition

06/14/2024

Hello again, everyone…and welcome back to another Fandom Friday.

The purpose of these entries, if you have not yet heard it, is to bring more visibility to art and stories that might otherwise go unnoticed on the Tumblr timeline, as well as to help the creators of such fanworks achieve more followers in the process.

Today is also the day where I feel as though I should make an important announcement, because it deals with future installments of this series and I don't want anybody to be surprised/shocked...:

Since the 10-link limit was starting to hold me back a bit too much, if not also cause me to only add art links when I really wanted to include fanfiction links as well...I'm going to start doing a total of 7 links for each medium in two separate entries, as I feel that I won't be leaving as many writers or artists out this way.

And so, without further delay...here are the fanart recommendations for this week!

THE CLONE WARS

The Clone Wars Fanart--By @gorlicberd:

The Clone Wars Fanart--By @dessinatsunset:

TALES OF THE JEDI

Tales Of The Jedi Fanart--By @thessbread:

THE BAD BATCH

The Bad Batch Fanart--By @kzya111:

The Bad Batch Fanart--By @bitterfishiesstuff:

The Bad Batch Fanart--By @doodlingfoolishness:

CROSSING THE FANDOM STREAMS

Star Wars Rebels/Jurassic Park--By @swordbladeknight7:

In conclusion, as part of my mission to poke around the Star Wars fandom and, on Friday every week, highlight those artists who might otherwise go unnoticed…I hope you will check out the links I have included for yourselves and like, comment on, and reblog them, as well as also giving the artists a few more followers to their Tumblr pages.

Please also like and reblog this latest installment so that these links can be spread around to as many other fans as possible, just in case not all of them can tune in at the same time.

An additional thank you goes to @djarrex for making the divider I used earlier in this post, but still want to give credit for.

And finally, so that I do not forget...this post will be continued in its second half: the Fanfiction Edition. Thank you, good morning, and I'll see you in the next post!

The No Pressure Tag List: @musicalselaw @gun-roswell @callsign-denmark @melymigo @saphiranishimurashan

@theosb0rnway @hastalavistabyebye @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod @vincili @tlmtwelve

@bbtechsimp @thatflatfrog @algo-o-nada @ankossss @tazmbc1

@yeehawgeek @tech-aficionado @exquisitesarcasm @korribanarchive @msknight10

@sharpasanaro @that-gay-jedi @badbatchposts @quietgingerfangirl @sunshinechildskywalker

@universitysunflowers @littlefeatherr @riverside-of-neverland @pastasmoothie @cyberscorch

@ilovemedia @cinnamonsugar-pretzel @brownielocks69 @here-comes-the-moose @skellymom

@lilithastar @maxims-multifandom-corner @serinzatravel-blog @rott1ngbra1n @snap-my-kneecaps and anybody else who might be on the lookout for new and interesting works around the fandom.

[bidonica]

Me: I love this part of the map!

This part of the map:

(Previous adventures in pizza delivery: a Death Stranding playthrough blog)

Speaking of, today I went on a light hike with my father who's the actual mountaineer in the family and completely unprompted he asked me to explain Death Stranding to him. I am becoming afraid of my own influencing powers

Incredible insights about Neanderthals from acclaimed director Nicolas Winding Refn

Man it feels good to do these missions... look at the breathtaking scenery

What the FUCK

"If it's not too late" well it is! The Mountaineer is an npc I'm fond of but I wish he had better timing (btw it's ironic that Die Hardman warns you that preppers in the mountain area might be hard to convince to join the UCA while they're generally very nice and eager to enter the network)

Oh wow well

I guess I'll ignore that and the lightning and the loud cracks and go do other allegedly story-advancing missions. This is productive procrastination

Like this rookie porter needed saving (and for some reason was nearly impossible to find despite being a darker silhouette on a white background... first time I had to look up the solution to something in this game I kid you not) (yes I had skipped this one in my first playthrough) (I'm realizing I cut A LOT of corners the first time around)

A still untested hot spring?!? NOT on MY watch

Oh, so unlike Mama and the Chiral Artist this guy doesn't join you for a health restoring bath? Mh. I wonder why

Me: Deadman, you better not be in a chiral vortex when I get there to retrieve my beloved BB

Deadman:

The FUCK are you saying man (you read this in Norman Reedus' voice)

siiiiigh

[gourmetprincipito-blog]

One of the weirdest and worst parts of being an artist in the internet era is the unavoidable commodification of something that was previously entirely personal. Trying to make a living as an artist means constantly pitching yourself to everyone all the time, it means conversations about how to transform your poetry and expression into more accessible and more lucrative versions of themselves. It’s a brutal and extremely intimate example of how capitalism infects everything in society.

As a young punk kid I was deeply inspired by bands like Bomb the Music Industry! and Defiance, Ohio, who proved it was possible to carve out a niche in counterculture without compromising your ideals. Free digital downloads of all music, spray-painted t-shirts instead of merch, and booking shows in all ages and inexpensive venues blew me away as a kid and I emulated it with my music career as well.

But even in these spaces - the most progressive and least commoditized I’ve seen in my life - the game of capitalism is still not really something you can withdraw from. In fact, trying to exist outside of the traditional structures just forces you to do *more* of what you disagree with. Independent artists have to be their own publicists, managers, agents, etc. and it so quickly becomes something entirely different than you set out to do.

Few pieces of art even approach this dilemma but even fewer do it with such clarity and profundity as “Side Projects Are Never Successful,” by Bomb the Music Industry! Perfectly expressing the begrudging acceptance of our situation with a tongue in cheek declaration that we are all born businessmen and all creations are products, illustrating how capitalism spreads itself over every facet of society - even its perspectives and philosophies.

“The glares on our windshields, we can’t even see each other’s eyes. Just McDonald’s cups and wrappers that they’re throwing at full speed. And yes, I long for a shadow, and yes, I always appreciate the irony that the only cool cover that allows us to see is a goddamn billboard! Yeah a billboard is the only thing preventing us from blindly crashing.

And we’ll never see a city not marred by advertisements, we’ll never see a future not working for these companies. It’s sure as shit not getting better so we might as well accept it now.

But that really shouldn’t cheapen anything because, baby, we’re all born to be businessmen. Every Fugazi record has a catalog number and a price tag, and every independent label is selling you another goddamn product.

But no, *we’re* not slaves to the music. No, *we’re* not slaves to the company, baby,

We do what we’re born and raised to do and when you’re creating something you’re producing something and the act of producing leads to the creation of a product.”

The song beautifully pairs this commentary on capitalism and art with another on the apocalypse and the futility of rugged individualistic and billionaire doomsday prepping, effectively shattering the concept entirely in a few lines.

“That orange ball, yeah that burning orb of fire in the sky is gonna explode and we’re all gonna die. Except for the privileged few who, quote unquote, “think ahead,” and drive their SUVs down to their bomb shelters. Complaining about no air conditioning because, baby, we ain’t got no more electricity.

They wanna rise with the sun, be a leader with a gun. Be a leader of what? Like a hundred and one? Fuck if, I’m gonna hang out on the rooftop when it comes.”

These two threads join in a hypothetical where, post-apocalypse caused explicitly by capitalism, capitalism still defines the social structure. It also parodies accelerationism and doomsday preppers again, effectively showing that the things these communities hope to achieve for themselves and society through apocalyptic scenarios are simply negative byproducts of capitalism. A punk rock reiteration of the famous Mark Fisher quote, “It’s easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism.”

“When it’s dark, it’ll be night time, baby, and I’ll get my ass on up out of this mess. The only stores that are open, baby, yeah, they’re gonna sell beer and they’re gonna sell ice cream and we’ll drink drink drink and get drunk drunk drunk. And we’ll talk talk talk about how much much much, how much fun we had, yeah, we were fucking the world.

When the sun drops you ain’t gonna be hungover the next day. When the comet hits there won’t be any bills to pay. When the bomb drops it’s gonna be a four day weekend, hey hey. When the sun’s gone I’m gonna feel great! Finally!”

Jeff Rosenstock, the songwriter behind Bomb the Music Industry! and now working as a solo artist, once stated his belief that, in a culture of disposable products and disposable people, cynicism and post-truth, obsessed with outrage, etc. the most punk rock thing possible is to build lasting communities and foster positivity. To remain hopeful and work toward something better.

That inspired me over a decade ago and I try to keep that in mind on a daily basis. We don’t have to wait for or cause the apocalypse to improve things for ourselves and our neighbors and our loved ones. There is still good to do, even in a bad system.

[perihealing]

i feel like i look like a bratz doll by way of bushbaby weirdo today and im kind of living for it. the y2k fashion trend is great. i'm able to get back to my roots as a peak oil prepper child in fun and stupid ways.

i think i used to find the aesthetics scene in the city i live in extra intimidating because it represented a set of urban aesthetic choices i could not relate to, so i'd be building this uncomfortable patchwork while i tried to make my self expression look like other people's. but it can't! it doesn't. my cultural context looks so deeply fundamentally different. learning to take that and run with it creatively has been an embarrassing and exhausting exercise full of awkwardness, but also really artistically fulfilling.

[loominggaia]

OK so reverse now the free Lance good guys are teleported to 2022 earth what happens?

Evan: Becomes a vigilante in an effort to make the world a better place. Ends up getting life in prison after murdering some scumbag mass shooter or whatever.

Lukas: Tries to make a living as a serious artist, but is forced to draw furry porn instead just to make ends meet.

Glenvar: Feels overwhelmed and sickened by the dystopian state of technology. Goes to live off the grid and is never seen again.

Alaine: Wants to get into the music industry, but it's so corrupt and exploitative that she gives up and becomes a titty streamer.

Jeimos: Tries to start a green tech company, but gets sabotaged by Big Oil and loses everything. Becomes jaded and starts selling NFTs.

Isaac: Becomes a Pokemon master.

Linde: Attaches herself to some annoying activist group and handcuffs herself to a streetlamp or some shit.

Balthazaar: Works a blue-collar factory job all day, comes home and eats TV dinners, rinse and repeat forever.

Skel: Scared shitless of Coronavirus. Becomes a doomsday prepper, works from home, and hides in a bunker 24/7.

Javaan: Makes a killing as a Grindr prostitute.

Elska: Takes a job as a prison guard. Helps Evan escape and spends the rest of her life on the run.

Mr. Ocean: Becomes Skid Row heroin zombie.

Zeffer: Documents paranormal activity on his Youtube channel. Averages like 10 views per video.

Hmm, the real world is kind of shitty and depressing...I like them better in their own world!

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

[thedreamcrosser]

Dark Neon is going to be continued ;)

Read the first chapter here 👇

What an adorable bot.

The first I saw him I thought he was just like any other guy. Doesn't wear anything too out there: a light sweater and basic pants. But when I went to look at the selection of plants in the front window I did a double take when I saw his reflection. The color that adorned his frame, admittedly, made me glitch a little. It was the most beautiful shade of purple I have ever seen. Come to think of it, not many companions came in purple. He was a gemstone alright.

I stared a bit longer than expected. Respectfully, hopefully. But I reminded myself that I was there on a mission, so I plucked up the flower that I knew would be a surefire cheer-up for my sister and made my way over to his counter.

I am going to be honest, I was a bit put off when he mistook me for a guy. But as he saw his mistake I couldn't help it. He was so cute when he was flustered.

Might as well forgive a common mistake.

And forgive I did, and in a way, I did not normally do with guys. I flirted with him. I grabbed a book on my favorite artist and I compared him to the artwork. He stammered and I saw that as the perfect opportunity to leave him to his thoughts and I walked out flawlessly. It took all of my control to not pump my fist into the air and lose my cool as I made my way to my motorcycle. It was a win in my book that day.

After that, I could not stop thinking of him. This had to be stupid right, falling for a guy you just met? Not to mention I don't know his name. It was a good thing his store was the perfect excuse to get the reference material for my job. Had the Festival of Neon coming up, and the boss had been asking for the best in art.

Being an artist in Midtown was competitive, and being a girl from the slums I had an incredibly slim chance of making it. That is, if my boss did not hand-pick me to work for him, I would have not been chosen to be the head hologram director for the event. It was a miracle that I chose not to waste, and I loved every minute of it.

But who said that I could not have fun while on the job, right? And I had a budget for supplies, so might as well use it. I spent almost every day going into that bookshop. The routine was a delight. I would go in, browse his art selection, and bring it to the front counter while he would stammer like a dork. After his stammering he was still shy and did not make much eye contact, but he did talk a bit.

I probably shouldn't have seen it as a good thing though. It was not until near the last day of the festival that I realized my mistake. While I trying to squeeze my bike through the crowded streets full of festival preppers I saw his shop was still open. My internal clock told me I still had an hour until his shop closed.

In the front window was an adorable sight, a child with her screen in a book. She had made herself comfortable on some cushions where the plant selection used to be. Parking my bike not too far away from her I gave her a small wave. Peaking up from her book she stared at me, her yellow face shining like a grow lamp. She did not wave back but offered a flower from the pages of her book instead. My processors melted.

The cute bookshop owner was not far away as well. But as soon as he saw me he  was quick to put his hand on her shoulder. And that was when he closed the blinds, and the neon open sign turned off.

That was his kid.

Oh no, he has a kid.

His kid.

There is probably someone else in the picture.

I stood there dumbfounded. All of that stammering was not shyness but fear. I was scaring the poor man because he had a child to protect, not to mention the possibility of someone else he loved. Defeated I leaned my head against the window. How could I have been so stupid?

[businesscasualart]

Are you interested at all in fictional magic systems/hypertechnology at all? If so, what's your favourite one and have you thought about making your own?

HEY HEY sorry, I’ve been excited to respond to this for a bit but…hail….wrecked my house…everyone is safe! We put some boards over broken windows! It’s just an ordeal and not something we can afford, but we should still be good in every other aspect! I live on a farm with a borderline doomsday prepper family, it’s gonna take more than a lil property damage for us to suffer 💪💪

Shockingly, no! I don’t typically care much for magic systems and…hyper-technology?? That’s like futuristic, sci-fi type tech right? I would assume.

I feel absolutely insane for it and its constantly shooting me in the foot as an artist/writer, but typically it takes a lot for me to care much about those types of systems.

There’s some I’ll get real obsessed over tho, commonly they’re someone’s OCs’ world. Like when someone is making up magic systems and cool tech for their characters, I can really get behind that sometimes!

I’ve just always been more character oriented than huge into world building ig <\3 and MAN it makes things harder for me, smh, ask me any questions about my OCs’ worlds and there’s only like, a 20% chance I’ll have an answer. I’ve definitely ATTEMPTED making my own, but with minuscule success. <\3

[capybaraonabicycle]

Iced lemon tea

Earl grey tea

Iced coffee

😁

Thank you for the ask <3

Iced Lemon Tea : Favorite song/band?

That changes like every month 😅 The Longest Johns were my top spotify wrapped artists last year, but I continue to be very fond of Dota and cavetown as well. My longest lasting love is for Abba though, and my favourite song of theirs would probably be - oh, I really can't say. I definitely love 'The Winner Takes it All' and 'Chiquitita' and 'Mamma Mia' a lot.

I recently listened to 'Bang-A-Boomerang' for the first time, though, and it is adorable? At least the music video is? So if you happen to have missed that one until now, like me, and you generally enjoy Abba, maybe have a listen?

Early Grey Tea : The inevitable Zombie Apocalypse is upon us! What’s your plan of action?

Okay, so my parents are some sort of preppers? They don't have a full panic room in their house or anything, but they have food and water for ages and wood and a fireplace and a radio that works with solar energy. So, I would try to get to their place and team up (in case they aren't infacted yet). And like, sadly covid has been a good way of evaluating who among the people you know are very likely to be stupid and get bitten immediately (because they don't believe in zombies even when scientists are telling them to run), so I have a list of people I would definitely stay away from.

And then I'd probably die within a week anyway.

Not the point of the question, but may I recommend you my favourite piece of zombie apocalypse art? It's a BlackBoxTV production starring the amazing Mary Kate Wiles and Monica Joy Sherer. It is heartbreaking and morbidly funny and I had to watch it several times to grasp the little details of what exactly was going on:

So, yeah, I've learnt all my tricks there and from tgwdlm -> meaning I'm definitely screwed.

Iced Coffee : Do you like reading? If so, what’s your favorite book?

I like reading and I don't do it nearly enough. I adored Tschick (Why we took the car), and have read it like 5 times, so I usually say that's my favourite book. But I think, actually, most of my favourite books are children books? Like Something else by Kathryn Cave (illustrations by Chris Riddell). It is one of the most beautiful books out there. Just, look at that art:

Isn't it gorgeous?

And, Idk, the little animal trying to fit in and it just doesn't work, because no matter how hard they try to imitate the other animals, it always looks just a little different? Until someone else who is different comes along and then he doesn't have to fit in? They can just be something else together? That just really resonates with kids who feel like they don't fit in either, I guess

In case you don't know it, there are several people reading it aloud on yt. Like this one is lovely, f.ex.:

Also, omg are you seeing that Something else has a stuffed animal that looks like him? That is literal perfection. (Also, like, I don't want to spoil the ending but the ending is amazing.)

(Also I just realised Tschick is basically also about a boy who doesn't fit in whose life becomes so much better when he makes friends with the other boy in class who is cast out, so, yeah, I am seeing something of a theme there.)

[caroluselled]

Permanent Starter Call | Like this post for a starter from Professor Hidgens, a reclusive doomsday prepper, moonlighting biology professor at a local community college, and musical artiste.

[Note: Hidgens’ responses will not have icons]

[the-blackorchid1]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: SOG THROWING AXE set of 3 & BLACK SHEATH outdoors off grid prepper.

[jonkipps]

Jon Kipps Deep Adaptation

Exhibition: 7 – 28 April 2023 Private View: Thursday 6 April, 6-8pm

“I find them something like ‘runes’ built from the off-casts of late capitalism. Something like a Star Trek episode where Kirk and Spock beam down to a new planet to find the locals worshipping a Ford Mondeo hub-cap - holy relics (or in your case materials) from a collapsed society.” Simon Faithfull, Artist

Standpoint Gallery is pleased to present an exhibition of new sculptures by Jon Kipps, the artist’s first London solo presentation.

‘Deep Adaptation’ has been developed over the past year by the London-based artist Jon Kipps. Kipps is interested in the way we choose to model and customise our environments and surrounding commodities, particularly objects associated with asserting or diffusing power, restricting behaviour and understanding social hierarchies. Examples include hostile architecture design, homeless spikes and skate stoppers, as well as car body modifications, coastal defences and less obviously aggressive forms of urban infrastructure, such as in bollards.

Developing from this line of interest, imposing obstacle sculptures, such as Lightning Bolt (2019-23)and Power Trip (2020-23), feature throughout the exhibition as assembled, freestanding objects, as well as flatpack ‘kits’, suspended on bespoke colour-shifting supports. The ‘parts’, when displayed on the wall, fall in very specific arrangements, ready to easily switch back and become fully ‘functional’ as freestanding objects once more. These are unique portable objects, ready to be deployed in a variety of contexts and situations whilst being tailored for the user, like an ex-military vehicle reimagined and customised to accommodate the doomsday prepper’s needs.

The adaptability of the objects is taken a step further with the knowledge that the sculptural outlines are designed to contour around the luggage compartments of the various vehicles that transport them. For example, the need for Power Trip to be transported to Serbia during the 2021 lockdown in a Suzuki Swift and the lopsided outline of Peace Test (2023) takes into account the artist's daughter’s car seat in the family vehicle.

A series of small wall-based sculptures puncture the architecture of the gallery space, some of which expose unseen layers of the building while subtly fitting into our environment. These works, including Planes Mistaken for Stars (2022) and Yourcodenameis:milo (2022), stem from a curiosity about the design of symbols and how we are encouraged to interpret and perceive objects that make up our surroundings.

Like warning markers to guide away from hazards, these arcane architectural fixtures draw the viewer close, creating moments of pause throughout the exhibition. Unlike traditional symbols, which are often designed to associate with a linear message, Kipps’ hybrid sculptural objects explore combinations of broad influences, and are therefore imbued with curious references and connotations.

Kipps is a considered artist, deft with the materials he uses, and while the sculptures are carefully composed and the forms appear assertive, he chooses to undermine this authority by working with waste materials, including offcuts, stickers, paper pulp and unused packaging. He will often manipulate the materials, shifting our perception of them while instilling them with low-fi power. For example, he might spray paint cardboard pulp shapes to resemble a bronze patina or use dyed MDF to suggest a much more robust material such as steel.

More recently, Mycelium packaging has become a key component for the artist. Mycelium is a fungal mass of branched, tubular hyphae, integral to plant and soil health. It can be moulded and grown to form different shapes, providing endless sculptural opportunities without producing a cost to the environment. Such material has the potential to become commonplace in everyday life, replacing polystyrene packaging - humans collaborating with fungi to solve problems created by a consumerist lifestyle.

The title for the exhibition is taken from the climate change paper: ‘Deep Adaptation: A Map for Navigating Climate Tragedy’ by Jem Bendell.

[lethalchiralium]

Sing To Me | Higgs Monaghan [The Artist and the Destroyer]

a/n: hello! i’m active! and for artist and the destroyer??? incredible. gotta love it. can still be read by itself! no need to read any other parts (even though i’d love you for it) don’t love the shit that’s fucking with my life though so enjoy uwu

warnings: amelie strand. do i need to say more? cussing, fear, higgs? not really higgs.

summary: higgs can get bored sometimes, especially if he’s not feeling himself.

Higgs got bored.

He’d tell you all day and with every breath he took that he had so much fun when he was alone, but he always had you. Except for today, apparently you had gathered some shitty porter gear from your closet and had left your shelter. Of course he wanted to see what in God’s name you were doing and where you were going, but that’s too… clingy. He wasn’t clingy, he was the Particle of God, for fuck’s sake.

He hated the humanity you so violently stabbed into him when your furnace broke that one time. You were shivering so violently that night, even with him trapped beneath your sleeping form. Whatever he fucked with in that furnace worked, and he’s hated himself ever since. He convinced himself that he didn’t want to fuck with a voidout by his little play thing, but his play thing gave him something to do and when he wasn’t fucking with Sam, he was having fun with you.

Except for this moment, as he chucked the tennis ball at the wall repeatedly, a tune blended into his head. A song he played on his guitar back in his shelter, one he wrote as a lonely, pathetic porter. He almost hit his hand on the wall, trying to make the time fly by like when your pretty smile shines right at him.

“So this is how it ends,” he began to sing that damn tune, the song that seemed to infest his brain as he sat in your bunker for two hours. “Not with a whisper but a bang.” He wasn’t worried, he was far from worried. He was so calm that he could probably have a normal conversation without wanting to kill something out of anxiety. He couldn’t stop picturing you dead in some valley and he was too concerned with his pride to jump and check. He knew he didn’t have much pride when it came to you “Slammin' doors and broken picture frames, puffed-up pride and called-out names.”

You, on the other hand, trudged out of the snow towards your shelter. Old porter boots strapped tighter than they should’ve began to ache less and your pack with your easel and paints strapped to your back became lighter. The sensor poles activated, scanning your ID and quietly opening the door, seeing that you set it to since Higgs was passed out on the floor when you left to go paint one of the mountains nearby for fun. The door opened slowly and you shut it quietly, trying to leave Higgs be in case he needed the rest. But you heard music, like someone was singing.

“I ransom gold,” the voice sang loudly as you walked down the stairs, hearing something hit the wall with rhythm as well. “Peddle your wares on down the road, your manufactured love will stop the show,” A few more steps. “For all the fools just passin by, who have yet to get wise.”

Holy fucking shit, it was Higgs whatever-the-fuck-his-middle-name-is Monaghan. Throwing a tennis ball at the wall and fucking singing, and singing well. Higgs. The terrorist Higgs Monaghan was singing like he was an angel.

“I never meant to break your heart,” A loud yet strong belt came from him as the ball stayed in his hand, he spun around, kicking the ground with a look of boredom on his face as you hid against the wall the best you could. Holy. Fuck. “I only meant to speak the truth-”

“Welcome, Y/N.” Your shelter soon activated at the wrong damn time and you jumped down the remaining steps, scared out of your skin by not just the shelter, but the hell-summoning stare of one man.

“Higgs-” You started but he closed his eyes and bared his teeth, his hand up before his icy eyes met yours like they had become fire.

“You heard nothin’.” He said, finger pointed straight at you before he almost jumped, but your hand grabbed his hand before he could think about it.

“Don’t be scared of yourself.”

Higgs almost looked offended, but you continued. “You run away every time you show me who you really are, under that damn body armor and that stupid cloak.”

“‘Cause you don’t deserve it.” He answered sharply, his other hand dropped the tennis ball. “Let me go, Y/N.”

You yanked his hand forwards, pulling him with as your voice grew sharp and louder than before. “Don’t deserve it? I show you, a fucking terrorist, every damn side of me like it a fucking game. I don’t show fucking anyone anything of me- I mean for fuck’s sake-” Your pther hand pulled off his glove, causing Higgs to almost snarl but he was still docile. He was interested in what you were doing - but a part of him needed to hear what you were gonna say. “You’re comfortable with me doing that. You have fixed my furnace, helped me through a rough week and you smile whenever you see my art. I show you my vulnerability and I get to see glimpses of a man I want to know.”

“You know me.”

“You’re fucking stupid.” You shouted back, throwing the glove in his face before letting go, knowing the fight is an uphill battle where he will always win. You turned around and shove off your pack, angered as you unzipped your suit and walked down the hall. “You’re so fucking stupid, Higgs.”

He turned towards the hall, hand slipping back on his glove as his voice raised, “How the fuck am I stupid if I didn’t want you to hear my stupid fucking song?” He took a step forwards, pointing his finger again. “That was private!”

“Maybe I want to hear you sing, Higgs, ‘cause I liked your voice and I don’t think you’re weak.”

Fire began to spread under his skin, from astonishment and anger. You should have never heard that leave his lips, ever. “Says the damn coward.”

The pause you took was threatening in nature, eyes pointed straight towards him with an emotion he has never seen in a person before. Porter suit tied around your waist and pack no long strapped to you, you moved into your doorway to look at the man.

“You really wanna talk about cowardice?” It was practically a bark that came from your throat, hands on the doorway to ground you. “Where to begin? Oh, with your precious little Sam Bridges.”

“Y/N-“

“You love to poke fun at the poor guy, you have to power to fucking gut him like he’s a fucking fish yet you don’t make an effort to! You are so much stronger than him, he’s one fucking man. You are too much of a coward to use your powers and be the big bad wolf you make yourself out to me- I mean, you’ve fucking hurt me more than you ever have Sam!”

“That’s a fucking lie!” He spat, “I haven’t hurt a damn hair on your fucking head!”

“And what about me, huh?” You hit the doorframe with your left hand. “Your little façade of being God and not having one connection to keep him down.” A step into the hallway. “Then what am I, ‘cause I’m surely not your friend, I’m not your lover, I could never love someone like you, you fucking ignorant, self-centered fucking coward.”

Higgs could only grip his hand into a fist, his tar-coated heart cracked as you snapped, “Get the fuck out of my house:”

Stings scratched his skin as black tar bubbled beneath your feet, hands grabbed your ankles and you hid your fear, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. Arms reached up farther and grabbed your knees, pushing you onto them as more acidic hands grabbed your wrists, You only made a grunt and your breathing slightly intensified.

Boots hit the cement and Higgs squatted down, the small little click that left his lips made your stomach curl. Higgs knew you were upset with him, your words didn’t hurt him, but it’s so easy for him to fall into place; into his place. His ungloved hand moved your chin up to look at him, his other hand clutched his missing glove. His eyes didn’t spare any expense at looking at every section of your face, remembering it for when it gets late at night and he thinks of just summoning a BT to swallow him whole. And the eyes that he dreams of stared at him with fear, something small in him hated it but he kept going. Moving your head to look at your neck and how nicely that tank top settled right underneath your collarbone. He was observing how quickly you submitted, just like every other pawn under his calloused thumb.

“Higgs.” You whispered, his fingers dig into your jaw and a sharp grunt left your throat. “I’m sorry.”

He let out a couple chuckles, sighing after, “I needed no apology, darlin’. None of your little monologue nicked me where it hurt.” His hand slid from your jaw to your neck, lightly gripping it and danger really set into your skin. “Except for two things that aren’t quite right.”

The extra glove was thrown behind him and his gloved hand set on the crown of your head. Head completely tilted towards him, you had no option but to listen as the slimy hands still held you tight, some grabbed at your stomach and thighs, nothing out of bounds, thank God.

“It’s a game of cat and mouse, where I completely have control of the game. I like my food to have a little muscle, and exercise is the best way to do it,” he smiled. “it’s entertaining to watch some puny fuck run around like a damn chicken with his head cut off. As for you, my darlin’,” he took a deep breath as he sort of leaned back, releasing your hair and tightening the grip on your neck threateningly.

Eye contact was made and his white teeth were displayed again as he practically purred, “You’re in love with me.”

Everything in you stopped working.

“Those stares that last a little too long, almost being shy in front of me like you didn’t think about me losing my clothes and worshipping you like everyone does to me.” A chuckle made its way into his throat as he continued, “And trust me, it’s hard to breathe around beauty like you but feelins ain’t meant for me.

“You’re one of many playthings, Y/N. You’re just one of my favorites that I decided not to use like the others,” he pushed you upwards by your throat and you barely even noticed the BTs had let you go a long time ago. “you’re special, ‘cause you got feelin’s for me.” He only held you by your neck now, pain began to surge through your body and hands tried to grab his arm. He didn’t even budge.

“Here’s the thing,” he sighed, “now you’ve forced my hand to not only hurt you, but to make you scared of me. I don’t want you scared of me, I like my lovers calm and not fidgety, they get too much and they end up dead in a lake out by Middle Knot. So you’re gonna have to pretend that I never did this to you,” he dropped you to the floor, coughs erupted from your throat as he also fell to your height again, his golden mask in hand. “And your little fantasies can come true,” he stood up as you were paralyzed, staring at him as he tapped the chiralium mask. “and Y/N, my darling?”

You didn’t respond.

He smiled. Submission and fear is what fueled him, but there was that part of him that was enraged with himself. He pressed on as he made eye contact again. “Any bullet you fire at me will go right through you, that’s why you’re on the fucking floor and I am about to order pizza.”

“Higgs,” a whisper escaped your lips.

“You’ll wake up soon,” He added, a snap and his hood appeared on his head, his ice eyes looked away. “I’ll see you soon, I- Fuck..”

Particles clashed together in a flash and he was gone, your vision went black.

•-•-•

When you woke up, it was like life had been sucked out of you. You stumbled to your shower, turned the water to hot and sat in your pajamas. You could still feel his hand around your throat and the tar-coated hands as they touched every inch of your body. Crawling, grabbing, the electricity that sparked through his fingers stayed on your skin like promises, ready to be broken by the right person.

The crying started by the time the water ran cold but you didn’t dare more, you were safe. Hands on your head and body as curled as it could be, you were there for a long time.

You wished it was timefall and that you had already rotted away.

It was a couple hours before the system had shut itself off to conserve water and the AI alerted you to a low water warning, that the water had to be sanitized for reuse, you weren’t worried.

You got up, ripped off your clothes and into nothing, grabbing a new set of clothes when you walked into your room. A comfortable pair of sweatpants and the only sweatshirt you owned - one Higgs gave you. You were hesitant but you wanted it. It was a comfort item. Socks and then your a random book you plucked from your nightstand.

You sat down in the corner of your living room, the book beside you as you held yourself in that sweatshirt, trying to erase that dream from your head.

You needed to erase it because you loved him.

•-•-•

Higgs hated this. Amelie paced back and forth with her hands fidgeting.

“You need to scare him more.” She said, Higgs had heard it a million ties before. “Something big, something huge; like that chiral storm by South Knot.” She stopped and curled her fingers into a fist. “A catcher could work, he’s making his way to Mountain Knot.”

“I could take out that Western Middle Knot distro.” He answered and she gave him a look of disgust.

“The Distribution Center North of Mountain Knot City.” She snapped her fingers and Higgs waltzed around her. “A simple attack could work. Overpower the fuel cells with a package and a BRIDGES worker could die and cause a distro shutdown.”

“It’s not hard, princess.” He stated and looked at the non-existent watch on his wrist. “I’ve got to go do that.”

Amelie chuckled as she turned away. “I know you will. But at least say hello to your prepper friend for me.”

Fuck. “What friend, Amelie?” He harshly growled. “Ain’t got friends anymore ‘cause of you.”

“Y/N was your ex, right?” She said, and Higgs grimaced underneath his mask.

“That prepper is a plaything,” He answered. “Something your puppy can chew on when you’re busy.”

“Y/N is your ex, right Higgs?” She asked again, harsher.

He nodded. Y/N knew him before as Pete Englert, not as his true name since he was never fond of it until Amelie spoke about it with kindness. It was a fling, a few week fling. Two porters who walked the same path and a few words sparked something spectacular. They were the first cut to tie before Middle Knot’s flames roared. But now? He wasn’t sure.

She grimaced. “Are you attached?”

“Amelie, I’d love for you to tell me where something fucking interestin’ happens when I have to wait to fuck with Sam,” Higgs answered sharply and he backed away from her with his hands up. “The damn cells are all about bein’ ready for war and all I want is something to entertain me. Isn’t that was Sam does for you?” He pivoted on his foot, the sand crunched beneath his boots and the woman gave him a dirty look. “So why are you on me for this?”

“Because you have been known for being unpredictable.”

“Okay,” Higgs barked and rested his hands on his hips. “Unpredictable? Just because I tried to re-nuke without fucking talking about every detail with you isn’t a good reason.”

The blonde woman rolled her eyes. “As a punishment for that, I talked with your little prepper friend.”

Gravity in his chest became sudden and his stomach fell to the floor but he didn’t miss a beat. “You what?”

“As you, of course.” She fluttered her fingers as she jumped to beside him, grabbing his shoulder and all he could do was stand there. She had way more power than he could ever dream of. “Traumatized them with you using your powers on them, things you’d say,” She smiled and Higgs had to close his eyes before he punched her. ”and the poor thing is sitting in the shower, wondering why you turned on them so quickly. They were comfortable with you, Higgs, and that is something I don’t like.”

“Hypocrite.” He snapped and Amelie was unfazed.

“You can keep your little prepper, but under no condition can you be friends.”

“Fuck off.”

That was the moment when he was sucked back under into the Seam, floating underwater before his eyes opened and he was sitting in front of the Artist’s shelter.

“That fucking bitch.” Higgs muttered and he stepped into the sensor ring, the sound never failed to give him an house of comfort. He walked under the shelter entrance, the terminal raised from the floor and something in him made him pause.

Did she make you scared? Did she make you scared of him?

Higgs knew he wouldn’t be able to handle this without you, and Amelie ruining that made him both furious and terrified. He wanted to ask to come into your shelter this time, so he could know if what she told him was true. She did love to taunt and lie to him.

He jumped anyway into your living room, hearing no movement and no other sounds other than his own breathing. His hands grabbed his mask and hood, pulling them off and placing them on your kitchen counter. He then began to unlace his boots, something he never does when he’s here, and then placed them next to the door. He peeled off his cloak and his harnesses, setting them on the floor and adding his body armor to the pile, leaving him in his black long sleeve undershirt, his tactical pants, and his socks. He was trying to be as docile-looking to try and not scare you.

God, if Amelie made you scared him, he was going to fuck up everything she ever loved.

His eyes looked through the living room, seeing a towel on the couch but nothing else out of place. He glanced into the kitchen, nothing moved. He looked down the hall to see your bedroom door closed, he quietly and quickly walked towards it.

He opened the door and the relief he felt when he saw your body underneath the blankets but it quickly drained when you sat up and scrambled backwards on your bed.

“Y/N, it’s just me,” Higgs spoke quietly. He took a step into the room and your hand flew out.

“Do not.” Your voice was hoarse, he put his hands up. “Don’t come near me.”

“What did I do?” He spoke genuinely and your eyes closed, screwed shut. “Please.”

“You know what you did!” You answered with a shout. “You violated every boundary I set with you and you deliberately fucked with me to make me scared of you.” And there wasn’t a beat missed after you took a shaky breath. “I don’t wanna be scared of you.”

Tears fell instantly after and Higgs almost bolted towards you but his mind was a little faster.

“It was Amelie. Your dream was Amelie, I’m so sorry,” He answered, another step forward. “She told me but I didn’t know she…”

“I need you.”

Amelie’s words couldn’t break the attachment he had to you since he’s never run this fast in his life. He set his knees beside your thighs and his hands sat on your cheeks as your hands tangled in his dark hair. His eyes couldn’t stop looking into yours, praying to see the fear fade away but it didn’t.

“Baby,” He whispered. “I’d never hurt you.”

“Please never do.” You answered and he pulled you to his chest, sobs left your body like unanswered prayers. “I can’t lose you.”

“I can’t lose you either.” He met your statement with truth. “Everything will be okay, I promise it’ll be okay.”

You never answered after that, sobs leaving your throat faster. Hands gripped his shirt and his own held your head, burying his face into your hair. There was nothing he could say to stop your tears because your fight was internal, and he was about to make his own external.

———

Copyright © 2021 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.