#but for me this is a proof of concept for my silly little head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spotaus · 4 months ago

Text

Hello guys! Today I'm posting a super self-indulgent lil drabble based on @ancientschampionau 's RealAge AU! (This is non-canon!! Just a silly concept!!)

This is 90% just me playing around with the idea of the boys story from the perspective of a random monster who lives in town! Light is a flame elemental who runs a small garden of their own, but mostly works for Grillby in his restaurant. They don't know nearly *half* of the gang's story, but they're fascinated by what they do learn over the course of a few weeks.

Uhhh. No proof-reading or anything here since it's just me being silly- Thank you Ancients for not minding me butting my grubby lil hands in and doin a goofy with it!

...

The day wasn't too busy. At least, it was never too busy in town, but sometimes it got busy in the little restaurant that they called their home away from home. Grillby's was the go-to spot for everyone in town, and some nights they'd have to bring out extra chairs just to seat everyone. Those nights were always the most charming, hearing all the familiar voices of their neighbors rise and fall like waves as they recounted their weeks.

Of course, Light liked unbusy nights just like this one too. Nights when they only had a few customers getting a drink or a late-night snack before they went home and hit the hay.

Right now there were just a few regulars who Light recognized. A bird monster, and a dog specifically were sat not far from them on the otherside of the counter. Light was awful with names, but knew that these two were here every night. ...And they knew the two always had some sort of drama they were eager to share. Grillby was less inclined to let them spread rumors in his earshot, but Light was always curious and willing to humor them.

"Ladies!" Light greeted the pair as they sidled up to the space before them, only the counter separating them. "How're you two doing tonight?"

Both monsters looked up at the excitable greeting, and they both seemed to perk up a bit at Light's presence.

"Oh, we're doing just swell, dear." The dog monster replied eagerly, her smile growing a bit. Light didn't miss how their flames reflected and highlighted the Grey that was growing around her muzzle. "We were worried we'd be stuck with your spoil-sport boss all night!" She teased then.

Light knew everyone was fond of Grillby. He was just likable like that. So when the bird laughed a bit, Light joined in.

"Hardly! Couldn't imagine a nice night like this without a good chance to hear the tea." Light assured them, which made them perk up even a bit more, "What do you have for me tonight?"

The ladies looked between eachother, before the bird monster made a little sing-songy whistle. It drew Light's full attention.

"We have a few newcomers to town!" She chimed, and the dog monster nodded her head in agreement. "They're staying with Sans at the moment. At least, that's what my son says he overheard!" She added. "That boy overheard a phone-call that nice Papyrus boy took from his brother, and it sounded sudden!" She sounded proud.

Light had to admit, they were surprised. Normally the ladies would tell them of a new batch of sheep brought in or a baby foal being born. On the more exciting days it'd be a scandal having to do with some young strapping man coming to town, but often that just ended up being the plot of a movie they'd watched that day.

Hearing names, though? Sans and Papyrus lived a little ways away, but Light knew of them. Hell, everyone in town knew them. The ladies had never tried to make a fake story about them, and Light was interested. New people staying in town with the brothers? Light had moved in from the city a few years back and they remembered being lucky they knew people here. If these newcomers were real, they were lucky to have the brothers to watch out for them.

"New folks you say? Have they been into town at all?" They asked curiously.

The two ladies shook their heads a bit, "No. Sounded like they just moved a few days ago." The bird monster answered.

The dog monster leaned forward, "I heard from the grocery that Sans was definitely buying a few extra things, though. Seems like they'll be staying a while." She deduced.

Light wasn't quite sure how right the ladies were, and they could tell they were going to try and dive into a guessing game that would most likely end up more insulting than insightful, so Light laughed a bit.

"Well, we'll just have to do our best to make them feel at home, right ladies?" They insisted a bit pointedly, and recieved nods of agreement that Light hoped were genuine.

They sighed, glancing around, already losing their focus as the women started thinking of exactly how many visitors there were, how they knew Sans, why they'd moved. The whole nine yards. And, admittedly, they too were curious. Light imagined they were probably just old friends stopping by to see the town before they headed on their way again.

It felt like hardly a minute had passed when they felt a hand pat their shoulder. It jolted them from their thoughts, and they realized that Grillby was back. They didn't need him to say anything to know it was getting close to closing time, and they scurried back towards the kitchen so they could start cleaning up for the night. And among their chores, the thoughts of newcomers in town faded, overlapped by just how many dishes they had piled up.... curse their laziness.

It'd been a month or two since the ladies in the restaurant had brought up Sans' new house-mates. At first Light had been sure they were temporary, but the assumptions of them staying seemed to be true. Light had heard just about every update on them directly from the ladies, anytime Grillby gave them the chance to ask.

Apparently it was five new skeleton monsters, all of them staying with Sans. Or, Crop. They were calling him Crop now, something about skeleton naming conventions. Four of them were adult guys, and from what Light had been told, they were a bit imposing. The fifth, though? A babybones. From what they'd heard, it was a little boy that the four adults had showed up with. That kid seemed to be their pride and joy, and maybe even what brought them to stay with Crop.

Light had seen a few of them out in town a few times, just in passing. The one with the hole in his skull was the first one they'd spotted out in the wild, helping Crop with errands. Then there was the one with the dark magic leaking from his sockets. His soul being on display was a bold choice, but Light hadn't had much time to oogle him, as he'd just been walking out of the market as Light was walking in.

They heard a rumor about the one that always seemed serious, a red scar under one of his sockets, but Light hadn't had the opportunity to spot him yet, and they'd seen the babybones across the street once, tucked in the arms of the one who always seemed to wear a hood.

Light really didn't like to pry into people's private lives, but there was just so much talk swirling around that it was hard to not get at least a hint of new news daily. Like, when they were shopping for a new shirt (they ripped their old one trying to climb up a tree and grab a piece of their laundry that had escaped the drying rack) they heard the shop-owner talking about how adorable the new little family in town was to the person in-line before them. When they were hanging out with some pals, their buddy said the hooded one had fixed his janky-ass cash register in just a few minutes. That thing had been broken longer than Light was in-town! And just lately they'd heard that Gerson was giving all of them high-praises.

Of course, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. No one knew where they came from, and they didn't tell either. Some people were weary, monsters with injuries like those? With the tired looks on their faces when they weren't really thinking about it? Monsters like that surely spelled trouble... but Light wasn't there to judge. They felt like an outside observer just piecing things together haphazardly as new information was thrown their way.

...and then they broke their lights.

Okay, in their defense it wasn't actually the lights themselves. Something in the wiring had fucked up while they were at work, and they came back to a pitch-black farmhouse and a shitty housemate who'd scared the hell out of them by jumping out from under the table as they passed by.

N, their awful (or Funny, as she'd put it) housemate had apparently gotten back from her own work and found the house like that, and she'd changed out all the lightbulbs before sunset. But, they didn't keep matches. Or lanterns, really. And she didn't know where to find the flashlight or her phone in the pitch black, so she'd decided waiting in the dark for her walking-torch of a friend to return was the best plan.

And, apparently, N had somewhere to be in the morning, but she'd already phoned in an electrician to come figure out where things had gone wrong and fix it by the time Light was awake to find the note she'd left about it. Joyous day, Light loved those electricians. Not.

One dreamless sleep and a tired morning. Light was in the kitchen, dressed in their work uniform and tiredly shoving a piece of fresh cantaloupe in their mouth, when their door knocker banged against the wood of the front door.

Weird, the electricians always dragged their feet. One glance at their phone revealed that this one was only a few minutes behind schedule.

They wandered to the door, gulping down their hasty breakfast before swinging the door open, and-

That was not a big city electrician. That was, in fact, the new guy in town with the hood that fixed Gerson's, like, entire house. Wow. Light wasn't expecting him, N could've at least warned them!

"Oh, good morning!" They unwittingly shifted gears, turning up their energy levels a bit, as to be welcoming. "I'm guessing my friend N called you about our electricity issue?" They questioned, holding the door open.

It felt like they towered over the skeleton. They couldn't see his eyelights from under his hood, but he seemed tired and slouched. Unenthused to be here at the very least, and at the most he seemed deeply offended by having to stand on Light's rickety old porch. His vibe check was not passing.

"Mm, yeah. Something about the wiring." He confirmed, seemingly begrudgingly. His voice was a little... quiet? That could've just been Light, though. They were used to the loud hollers of country-folk these days.

Light sighed in exasperation. "Yep! I'm sure she probably told you all about it, but the entire lighting set-up went dark yesterday while we were both at work." They agreed, stepping to move out of the entrance to their house, "Come on in, I'm sure you'll know better than either of us did."

The guy slipped in past them with a slight hum of confirmation, and Light noticed the toolbox clutched in one of his hands.

They trailed him after closing the door, and watched as he honed in on the nearest light-switch. Unsurprisingly he toggled it, clicking the switch on. Off. On. Off again.

Something felt a bit surreal. Light was convinced this guy and the other folks Crop was hosting were something like a urban legend, or a celebrity. They'd never been so close to them, and maybe it was a bit silly of them that they'd thought the guys were so imposing. I mean, this guy was in their house, and in just a few minutes he reminded Light more of a wet cat than anything the rumors about him or his friends had conjured up.

He seemed tired, and he did everything with this off-putting systematicness. He'd seemed fine with Light trailing him through the house, pointing out where the wiring went and connected and which switches did what. It'd just given them more of a chance to observe him.

In hindsight that was a little weird, but Light wasn't exactly the most normal monster in the world, so whatever.

But truly. This guy seemed small, and a bit thin compared to the others they'd seen from afar. He was ultra quiet, probably the quietest person in town, and even though Light never saw his eyelights, it constantly felt like they were the one being scrutinized, and not the other way around.

And, just like that, the skeleton had hummed and begun unscrewing a lightswitch plate just outside of N's room. Light watched curiously as he peeled the old cover back from the switch, and he poked at something with a nod to himself.

"The wires here are frayed, messed up the circuit." He voiced, and his words made Light jump a bit. The only sound for at least 15 minutes had been their steps and the crackling of Light's flames.

"Oh, seriously?" They asked meekly, seeing as he was already pulling some stuff out of his tool kit. Wires, it looked like. Maybe electrical tape too?

"Yeah. Rat probably chewed through it." Was all he responded with, and Light was once again left in that silent gap as they watched him work. And he was skilled, that was for sure. Light had half expected him to dismiss them so he could fuck around for an hour to waste their time like the city electricians used to, but in about 5 minutes flat he had the wires attached, and in a few more minutes the cover was screwed back in place.

A simple flick of the switch had the hall lights on in a split second. The shadow that fell on his skull darkened, but Light was too busy being impressed by his handiwork.

"Holy shit, they don't even flicker anymore!" They said in mild amazement, missing as the skeleton packed his supplies back up and seemed already prepared to go.

He led the charge back to the door, double-checking each light as they went, but they all worked better than ever now.

"Here, your pay!" Light suddenly broke their silence, digging into their pocket before producing a roll of cash that N had left behind. "Thank you for the help, man." They added, though they swallowed their need to offer him a cup of coffee or a quick snack. It seemed to them he wasn't compelled by the need for a classic southern-farewell.

He plucked the cash from theur hand, slipping it into a pocket on just jacket with a mumbled 'No problem.' before he was already on his way back out the door.

Thirty minutes or so, that was really all it had taken. He was like a spectre, in and out in near complete silence. Not abrasive, but not friendly... cautious? Yeah. In hindsight he did seem cautious.

Light decided in that moment that they'd be asking Grillby to give that man and his friends a discount the next time they stopped in.

They were really moving into Gerson's old farm. Light hadn't seen that one coming in the slightest, but when Dani had driven past them with a load of lumber in her truck, with another few following her, Light had realized they were heavily out of the loop.

Luckily for them, their boss knew what was going on already, and he was already telling them before they got two steps in the door with the latest crate of their supplies.

"A delivery?" Light questioned the fire monster as he heated the crate out of Light's grasp. Light was young and spry, but Grillby was miraculously strong.

They eyed him curiously, eyes skimming his flames, listening to the crackling pops that danced away from him. Was he really...?

"Gerson's old place? Those guys really moved in there?" They questioned, though they knew that Grillby wasn't one for gossip. He was dead serious when he said he needed them to run an order out to the place.

Apparently, Ellie had insisted Grillby contribute to their little gathering, celebrating the new neighbors and helping them settle in for good. Of course, he'd obliged, but he didn't want to leave the restaurant unattended for too long. So, Light would be taking the orders that way instead.

"Alright, okay!" They laughed a bit as Grillby nudged them using the crate in his arms. All the supplies were stacked out back, and it seemed all the food was ready in the kitchen.

Light gathered the food carefully, stacking it securely in their passenger's seat as Grillby kept moving in and out of the building, each time with another load of supplies.

And then they were off. With only a slight detour past their own place, they made it no problem to the place they were meant to be.

...Luckily, the crowd wasn't big, and it wasn't hard to find a place to park on the driveway. Light could see a small group gathered in front of the building, and found that a few more were already on their way back to theur trucks. The Sun wasn't quite setting, but Light hoped they hadn't taken too long.

Swinging out of the driver's side, they rounded to the passengers and gathered the food along their arms... having four sure did help them with the load.

They kicked the door of their truck shut and moved as hurriedly as they could towards a familiar bunny monster. She and her partner were the only reason they were out here.

"Food delivery, still warm!" Light called out when they got close enough that it felt appropriate. Only once a few faces had turned did they grin and continue, "Fresh from Grillby's, he sends his regards to our new neighbors!"

One of the few of the group that was gathered was that skeleton with the magic leaking from his eyes. Light had, once, wondered whether they were tears but had since dismissed that idea. He always wore a wicked grin whenever they crossed paths.

It was that skeleton and Ellie who approached them, breaking off from the little group who'd seemingly been helping out. Though, Light suspected by now that it might've become a social hour as the sun kept dipping lower.

"Huh, today is just full of pleasant surprises," the skeleton voiced as he got within rang to stop and stand before Light, "And to think this is just in time for dinner. Now Horror won't have to cook!" He... seemed to be thinking aloud.

Ellie came up beside him, smiling at Light, "Oh I was worried that stubborn monster wouldn't send anything at all!" She voiced, "Thank you, Light, for bringing all this up here." She was already moving forward, and Light let her scoop one of the covered plates off their arm.

"It's no trouble at all. Least I can do to return the help is ferry some food to you hard-workers." They replied easily, though they didn't miss how the skeleton was looking at them now.

I mean, he'd been looking before, but now Light felt that same weird feeling of being watched as they had at their house. A glance revealed that the skeleton had an eyebrow quirked at them.

"Return the help?" He questioned idly.

Oh, right, "Yeah! Your hooded friend was a big help to me a few weeks back. Fixed up my house's entire lighting circuit in a fraction of the time the city folks usually take." They said honestly, "But, based on what I've heard I'm probably not the first one to say that." They laughed a bit.

The skeleton seemed to relax a little. When had he even tensed? Light hadn't noticed there was any tension in his form until his shoulders slumped a bit.

"Ohhhh, right. Geez, Dust's met half this town and doesn't tell us anything." He mused. Light just tried to file away that the hooded one was Dust. "Well, speaking of Dust, he's probably already inside with the others." He said then, tilting his head towards Ellie, "You mind fielding the rest of these guys? Meet us back inside for dinner?"

Ellie assured this guy that she could handle it and passed off the plate she'd taken to him.

Light wasn't exactly informed on what was happening, but the skeleton just nodded for Light to follow him, and they did.

They passed the last few folks catching up and cleaning in the lawn before climbing some steps onto a porch. Then the skeleton swung the door open, and Light slipped in behind him easily. It felt like any other delivery to any other residents of the town. Familiar and practiced, even though they'd never even gone past the drive on this old property.

Inside the house was a bit barren, and pretty quiet, but that serenity only lasted for a few seconds before there was a call from the skeleton who led them inside.

"Guess who brought back the grub?" He called, recieving various voices hissing the name 'Killer' in various levels of frustration to his calling.

Light traveled into a separate area, a kitchen/dining room it seemed, following Killer with the meal, and they suddenly understood why they had so much.

Sat and stood in the space were the other three skeletons who'd moved in, along with Crop, Straw, and Dani. It felt like a family-reunion of sorts. The skeletons all seemed to be leveling Killer with frustrated and exasperated looks as he sauntered inside and set his one plate on the table before him.

"Killer, you gotta be more careful, Night was trying to get in a nap." Scolded one of them quietly, the one with the red scar under his eye.

And stood in the doorway, Light spotted exactly what he was talking about. Killer moved quick to approach the hooded skeleton, Dust, and Light initially missed what was curled up in Dust's lap. No, not what. Who.

There, tiredly blinking up towards the approaching Killer, was the babybones. He looked so comfy tucked in Dust's arms, and Light didn't envy him when Killer leaned and gently poked at one of his cheeks. "Sorry tiny boss, but we've got dinner to eat." He seemed to quietly amend as the little guy seemed unphased by the prodding.

Light had been a bit shell-shocked. Maybe it was the kid being so cute? Maybe it was exhaustion from a long day? Most likely it was just that they felt like a bit of an intruder on a nice family meal. Like there was an invisible wall separating them from the fondness permeating in the room.

Of course, that wasn't the case, and their arms were still keeping a few plates Wirth of food warm as they stood idly by. Watching as the room seemed to grow warmer at the presence of the babybones reawakening.

"Oh, Light! Should've known Grillby wouldn't come himself." They were jolted out of their thoughts by Crop. He acknowledged them, which brought a lot of eyes directly onto them. They hoped their flames didn't burn brighter in embarrassment.

They took a few steps inside, which brought them to just before an open seat at the table. "Great to see you again, Crop! You know how he is anymore about leaving the place un-manned." They voiced, trying to shake the gazes they could feel digging into them as they expertly laid the plates across the dinner table, sliding a few down the way with a practiced arm. "Besides, I would've been bummed if I hadn't gotten to greet the newly-moved in folks properly!"

They stepped back once the food was all arranged, but finally took a moment to meet the stares watching them. Killer seemed unbothered, already moving to sit. Dust would've likely been uninterested, but Light could see how the little one was staring at them. And the other two? The big one was alright. He didn't seem to mind once Crop had greeted them, but the one with the scar still seemed weary.

"Of course, I'll get out of your guys' hair so you can eat, but I heard people were bringing gifts, and my farm's not in season right now, so I had to improvise a bit." They said with a nervous grin as they popped open their inventory. A moment later, a simple black vase settled in their hands, and the room was lit up just a bit more.

They hadn't expected the surprised hum of surprise from one of the skeletons.

"Are those flowers, but on fire?" He asked, and Light caught that it was the one with the scar. They hoped that meant they could woo him a bit and make things less awkward.

"Basically!" The agreed. "Flame flowers, they're my speciality item I grow in my garden. They'll keep burning as long as you leave them in the sun and don't water them." They explained, before holding the little bundle of them out above the table. "They're non-flammable and the flames don't get hotter than an average spring day. The vase is stone too, better for them to last longer." They almost got lost in a rant about how exactly the plant worked, but reigned it in as they realized just how long they'd been talking.

"Mm, they seem pretty neat. Thank you." Came the voice of the one with the hole in his skull. "Would ya mind setting them on the counter there?" He gestured towards the counter behind them, and as they turned to place them, they realized Dani had begun talking about something. Maybe them, even? But they'd overstayed their welcome.

Dani or Ellie would get the plants back to them to get back to Grillby's, they knew that much.

They passed Ellie on their way out, only exchanging quick pleasantries before they split ways. The lawn was dark now, vacant besides Light's glow against the grass abd trees, abd their truck was the last one, parked a few paces from Crop and Dani's trucks.

They stopped by the restaurant to check in on Grillby, but he dismissed them for the night, so they simply went home. But, those guys... something about them was oddly familiar. Or, oddly unfamiliar? They couldn't place it, not with words, but all that really mattered was that they seemed to really have found a home here, just like Light had.

The town, with its many faults and troubles, seemed to attract the strangest people to call it home. That's what it was meant for though, right? This town looked out for its own. Maybe that was why it felt so right to have those five skeletons now living up on that previously vacant plot after so long.

#not sure if I'm gonna give it any of the normal tags lmao--#just thought it'd be fun to mess around with gossip flowing through a small town and how some people react to it!#and I do need to confess at Light is definitely enamoured by the gang #because they moved in from the city and can definitely tell they're not just any city-guys but like #they can't tell what's wrong with them because their Parent Energy is just *too strong*#it's blinding them to these guys being technically hella sus lmao #amyways I've been having a ball with RealAge AU and I love rotating them all around in my head 🙏#oh! abd I like to think that Grillby has had to put up with a good amount of sabotage in the past so he #doesn't often leave his restaurant unattended anymore (<- this is mostly headcanon but his place gives me Stardew Community Center #energy and I know everyone would cherish the meet-up place lol-)#okay that's all!

32 notes · View notes

deadgirlwalking91 · 6 months ago

Text

new update - 'thank you for the venom', chapter 4: 'sugar, we're goin' down swinging'

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter 4 Summary

After a hard day, all Lute wants to do is relax in the bath. Alone.

Adam, however, has other plans.

Author's note:

I have a super cool announcement to make - I now have a beta reader! And not just any old beta - she is none other than the most incredible, incomprehensibly talented @branded-rose! She deserves the utmost thanks for being my sounding board, fellow head-canon theoriser, hype gal and all-round legend. Also, if you aren't familiar with her work, close this tab right now and go check her art and accompanying mini-fics out!

I have had the MOST fun writing this chapter. The concept for it has undergone a few transformations in my mind, and I'm glad it's ended up where it has. I hope you all enjoy reading it!

As always, thank you for the comments, likes, reblogs, inboxes and for reading this silly little story <3

***

Lute’s Apartment, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

Lute hated being injured.

It wasn’t necessarily the feeling of being in pain that she couldn’t stand. On the contrary, she welcomed the tenderness of every bruise, the sting of every laceration – hell, the dull, aching throb of every broken bone that had been inflicted upon her over her years as an Exorcist. Pain meant she had no hesitations in putting her body on the line; she was renowned, after all, for her reputation as an unrelenting, unstoppable, balls-to-the-wall killing machine.

Her body was heavily adorned with the scars as proof of her status; hundreds of faded gold marks of varying sizes were flecked upon her otherwise pale skin. Each healed wound beheld a gory reminder of her battles and triumphs.

No, what irked Lute was the unwanted attention that she attracted whenever she sustained an injury. Thankfully, due to her recent refocus on physical conditioning, there were no weapons being handled and therefore, there should have been minimal opportunity for anybody to come into harm’s way under her guidance.

There was just one variable that Lute hadn’t accounted for: her dickhead boss.

What the fuck had Adam been thinking, tackling her so suddenly during that afternoon’s training session? One minute, she’d been pointing out common weak spots to hit on a Sinner’s body to expose their vulnerabilities, and then the next she’d unexpectedly been crushed by him. Her right hip and lower back had taken the brunt of the fall as he’d grabbed her around the torso, pinned her arms against her body and drove her into the floor with a force so great she’d been winded before she hit the deck.

Then, her sisters had shrieked, screamed – there may have even been one who cried, there usually was when someone hurt themselves – and crowded around her as she lay on the hardwood floor, dazed, confused and completely smothered by Adam’s considerably larger frame.

“Get off her, Sir, she’s not breathing!”

“I-is…is she dead?”

“Lieutenant, are you alright?!”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Commander?! What the fuck was that?!” Thank God for Vaggie, who had elbowed her way to the front of the gaggling group and stood, hands on hips, glaring at the angel who lay atop her friend.

“Out of line, Vagina,” he had drawled lazily, finally pulling himself up to a standing position. “You owe me burpees for that.”

“I don’t owe you a thing after the bullshit you just pulled,” she’d snapped back, helping Lute stand to her feet. “Ladies, back up, she’s coming through.”

“Thanks,” Lute had managed to grunt, shuffling away from the crowd as quickly as she could so they couldn’t see the golden flush of humiliation that had started to warm her cheeks. There was only one thing that she hated more than being injured, and that was being embarrassed.

Luckily, the colour of her face had returned to normal by the time she’d knocked on Sera’s door to report that training had been cancelled for the rest of the day. She’d even come up with the perfect excuse: the Exorcists had made such remarkable progress with their strength training she was giving them the rest of the afternoon off as a reward while she made some adjustments to their schedule.

Too bad her hip and lower back had started burning by that point – not to mention the feathers of her wings were incredibly ruffled, a dead giveaway that she’d been involved in some kind of mishap. Sera, astute as ever, noticed her limp and disgruntled appearance and had demanded to know what had happened. And it wasn’t like Lute could lie to the Head Seraphim.

At least, not off the cuff.

And so, she found herself fumbling for her key outside her apartment door, ordered to rest up for the evening lest her injuries worsened.

Oh, she was going to rest up, alright. Today’s events called for a bath so damn hot her skin would burn brighter than the surface of the sun, a glass of wine in one hand and steamy novel in another. She’d slip beneath the bubbles of her bath and into the pages of her book, with zero plans to re-enter reality for at least three – no, maybe four hours.

At last, she felt her apartment key in bottom of her bag. Sighing in relief as she entered her immaculate personal sanctuary, she softly pushed the front door back towards its frame without looking, kicking her trainers off as soon she was fully inside. Hanging her bag onto a hook in her entryway, she made a beeline for her small kitchen – specifically, for a bottle of red wine she knew she’d had stashed away at the bottom of her pantry for emergencies and unexpected visits from Vaggie.

After the day she’d had, this was absolutely classified as an emergency.

Ignoring the burn that seemed to now consume most of her lower body, Lute located a wine glass and unscrewed the lid of the bottle, pausing to take a long swig directly from it before filling her glass.

Classy.

Sipping her drink from its intended vessel, she plucked a candle off her coffee table and wandered into her bathroom to start preparing for her date with her bathtub.

As Lute sat her glass and candle onto the counter, she caught her reflection in the mirror. God, she looked like she’d had a day – though, to be fair, she’d had the absolute wind knocked out of her only a few hours earlier. Her platinum hair, half of which had been twisted into a small knot on top of her head, had loose strands starting to fall around her face. The bun was askew, leaning more towards the right and threatening to unravel any minute. If her little altercation hadn’t been so public, it wouldn’t be so farfetched for one to imagine she’d been sandwiched between her boss and the floor for a different reason.

Snorting in disgust to herself at the mental image she’d painted, she released her topknot and leant down to turn on the bath mixer, nudging the lever closer to the right until the water temperature was practically scalding. Perfection. She plugged the bath and turned her attention to the unlit candle.

She’d forgotten the lighter. Dammit. She walked gingerly back out into her living area, peeling her crop top up and off over her head, letting it fall to the floor somewhere near the bench of her kitchen, her socks following. Usually, she’d never allow herself to leave stray items of clothing around her apartment, but she was so hyper focused on getting into her bath she was willing to break her own rules - just this once. Besides, she’d tidy up before bedtime anyhow.

After she grabbed the lighter from an overhead cabinet that was just out of reach, requiring a little assistance from her wings, she set back to the bathroom to light her candle. The calming combination of rose geranium, bergamot and patchouli filled her bathroom almost instantaneously; the smell reminded her of the one and only time she’d allowed Vaggie to drag her to a day spa for a massage and to get her wings preened.

It was a one-time event because, as it turned out, strangers touching her body made her skin crawl and she couldn’t bring herself to relax, even if the aim was to help relieve years of built-up tension, stress and physical exertion. Getting her wings preened was even worse; the therapist kept running her fingers through all her sensitive spots, which made Lute squirm uncomfortably throughout the entire session. Neither experience was what she would call enjoyable.

The only good thing to come out of that disaster was the candle she’d purchased to reassure Vaggie the day hadn’t totally sucked.

She took another sip of wine and looked back in the mirror, turning to see if she could see any obvious signs of bruising on her body. She pulled the waistband of her leggings down for a better look – ah, there it was, a familiar dark orange patch beginning to bloom directly over her right hip. She leant forward to inspect it further – that was going to be ugly tomorrow – and a repetitive, robotic tune sung from her pocket, breaking her concentration. Probably Vaggie checking in on her, bless her.

Lute dug her hand into her pocket and retrieved her phone, frowning as she checked the caller ID.

Commander Adam.

“Absolutely not.” She hit the red decline button and padded out to her lounge, where she turned her phone off and tossed it onto her couch. Bath time had a strict no-phone policy, and Adam had already ruined enough of her day – she didn’t need him encroaching on her night, too. She shimmied her leggings down her lower half, resting against the arm of her couch to support her body as she bent over and tugged the end of them off her feet.

Clad only in her underwear now – a practical, black, seam-free thong ideal for wearing under workout clothes – Lute headed into her bedroom, where she grabbed the book she was currently reading from her nightstand, closing the door as she turned towards the bathroom. Pausing in the hall to rid herself of her last item of clothing, entered the bathroom, fully naked, shutting the door firmly behind her.

The bath was now full and inviting, bubbles threatening to spill over the edge and onto the white tiled floor, steam visibly rising from its depths and dissipating somewhere just short of the ceiling. Grinning in anticipation, Lute shut the mixer off and turned off the light switch, the flickering flame of the candle providing the only source of light – just enough for her to be able to read. Grabbing her book, she stepped into the hot water, allowing the heat to envelop her completely as she slid down into its warmth, tucking her wings comfortably against her sides.

Sighing contentedly to herself, she opened her paperback up to where she’d dog-eared her page and allowed herself to be fully consumed by the words between the well-loved cover, banishing any thoughts, any feelings, any pain that had arisen from her day out of her mind.

What she was blissfully unaware of was that she hadn’t closed her front door properly.

Or that she’d missed two calls, a voicemail and a text message from her boss.

And that he was on a frantic mission to try and find her.

Right now.

Adam and Lute’s Office, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

“You’ve reached Lute. Leave me a message if it’s important.”

“What is the point of having a damn lieutenant,” Adam growled to himself furiously, “if she doesn’t answer her fucking phone when I need her to!” Huffing impatiently, he threw his phone onto his cluttered desk, knocking a ball made entirely of rubber bands onto the floor. Women were always on their phones, why was this one any different?

Because her sole purpose in life is to make everything difficult.

He glowered in the direction of Lute’s spotless desk. This was all her fault. If she hadn’t of approached Sera with her shitty statistics and stupid proposal, he wouldn’t be facing the prospect of a pointless life in less than a year’s time. Sera would have just let Extermination Day continue as it was, and things would stay the same. Stay normal.

And now, he had to figure out a way to coexist peacefully with the she-devil. Pretend to support her ideas. Not lump his paperwork on her. Make small talk with her.

Fuck his life.

“Ribs or wings?” He asked the empty chair. He figured he may as well sound out some practice questions in preparation. “Actually neither, you’d be the type to survive on gross shit like protein shakes and probably don’t know what real food tastes like. Alright…” he cleared his throat. “Uh, what was the last movie that made you laugh? Nah, that one’s dumb, I don’t think you’ve been programmed to laugh or understand humour.” He groaned. “Last one, because I’m starting to feel like a dickhead. Most fuckable member of a band…go!”

Silence.

Adam narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, you would pick the drummer,” he grumbled, standing up. He reached for his phone and tried calling Lute again. Bitch better pick up, or he’d search every nook and cranny of this complex for her. And once he found her, she’d have hell to pay. Screw the idea of a truce, she was pissing him off now.

“You’ve reached Lute. Leave me a message if it’s important.”

Beep.

“Fucks sake, Lieutenant, pick up your phone!” He hissed. Instead of locking the phone after hanging up, he hit the message icon instead and tapped out a quick text, tongue between his teeth as he concentrated.

Adam: Lt. Call me. That’s an order!!!

He shoved the phone into his pocket and sighed, puffing his cheeks out. Dammit, he really had no other choice but to find her.

If I were her, where would I spend my spare time? No – it could take hours trying to find her. I need a workaround. Someone who would know where she lives.

Adam grinned maniacally, inspiration suddenly kicking in.

“I’m a ge-ni-us,” he sang to himself, taking his phone out once more and tapping on a contact.

“Hello, Adam. Have you calmed down?”

“Me? Pfft. Don’t worry about me Sera, I’m so fine. I’m calling because I really want to apologise to Lute, but she’s not answering her phone. Do you have her apartment number so I can drop by to check on her?” He balled his hand into a fist near his crotch and made an obscene gesture. Check on her, his ass.

Silence.

“Adam.”

“Sera.”

“If I do this in good faith,” her voice was dangerously cool on the other end of the phone, “and I find out that you’ve misused the information I’ve given you, there will be consequences. Understood?”

“Crystal, boss.”

“Her apartment number is 583. I mean it Adam, one more incident from you and I-”

“SweetkaythanksSeraloveyoubossbye!” He quickly hung up the phone before Sera could finish her sentence. He’d deal with the inevitable lecture he’d get for hanging up on her later.

He had a lieutenant to hunt down.

Apartment Block, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

It wasn’t often that Adam found himself in a situation that required him to make a mental pros and cons list.

However, Lute had left him in quite the predicament: her apartment door was slightly ajar. Which meant he was likely to find her in there: big pro.

He was also likely to find her in a more hostile state than usual, given the events that had transpired earlier that day: big con.

But, if he went in, he’d be able to propose a truce, which would help ensure the success of the next Extermination: bigger pro.

Also, he could twist his pitch to emphasise that it would make her job easier: another big pro.

Fuck it, that was all the evidence he needed. He was getting impatient. He nudged the door open, expecting a response from inside. Nothing.

“Lieutenant?” Adam called, pushing the door open further and poking his head inside. “You home?”

No answer.

He frowned as he fully entered the apartment, observing the immaculate home in front of him. His colleague lived a truly minimalistic lifestyle – he found it borderline depressing, really. A small TV, two-seater couch and coffee table were all that occupied her living room. No decorative clutter. No prints on the walls. No photos of friends. Clothes on the floor.

He did a double take. Clothes on the floor?!

That… he hadn’t been expecting. Then again, he didn’t take Lute as the type to leave her front door unlocked and open when she was nowhere to be seen.

He strode forward, trying to get his bearings around her apartment based on the trail of her clothes. Crop and socks by the kitchen counter to his left. He walked past the discarded pants next to the couch on his right. A dead end with two closed doors and…something scrunched up on the floor? He bent to take a closer look and bolted upright once he realised what it was.

Her underwear.

Dismayed, he blinked repeatedly at the offending item of clothing on the floor in front of him. This surely had to be some kind of fucked-up fever dream. Because if somebody had told him that during his search for his second-in-command that he’d find himself staring down at her underwear on the floor, he would have thrown them down into the pits of Hell himself.

“Sera must have put some kind of curse on me with her four hundred weird eyes,” he muttered. “This is too messed up to be real.” He took a wide berth, desperate to avoid the offending undergarment, and found himself directly in front of one door, with another to his left. Both were closed.

He tentatively opened the door in front of him, hoping to catch her in bed, asleep. Where else could she possibly be? He knew he’d likely pay for it – she wasn’t likely to enjoy being woken up, least of all by him – but it’d be worth it just to see the sheer panic that would likely cross her face for a brief second before she went off the rails.

However, nothing could have prepared Adam for what was behind that door.

Because, he’d found his lieutenant, alright. In the bathtub, her body illuminated only by candlelight.

Naked.

Adam looked down at her, his eyes widening in horror. Oh no. No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. This was meant to be her bedroom, she was supposed to be asleep and she definitely wasn’t supposed to be fucking NAKED.

He’d opened the wrong fucking door.

“SHIT!”

He clapped his hand over the mouth of his mask, accidentally banging the door completely open in the process, revealing his presence to the wide-eyed angel laying in front of him.

The same wide-eyed angel who, renowned for her reputation as a bloodthirsty killer, had a murderous look in her eyes that he’d never seen before, despite many an excursion down to Hell.

Shit. I’m SO dead.

Lute’s Bathroom, Apartment Block, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

“I am going to KILL you!”

The water in her bath had long gone lukewarm, but white-hot heat radiated throughout Lute’s body, starting from her cheeks and spreading rapidly all the way down to her toes. Still seated, she instinctively flung her book to the other side of the room. She desperately grabbed in the direction of her towel with one hand, her other arm pressed tightly against her breasts in a feeble attempt to cover as much skin as possible. She just needed to get this towel around her, sprint to the kitchen, grab the butcher’s knife and-

“Shit!” Adam yelped, turning away from his lieutenant, drawing his golden wings around his middle to protect himself. He hastily began retreating into her lounge, eyes fixed on the front door. At lighting speed, Lute seized her opportunity to stand – an awful squelch filling the room as water sloshed out of the bath onto the floor - and retrieve her towel, hastily wrapping it around her body with one hand, not bothering to dry herself before hurling herself out of the tub towards her superior.

Her wings were weighed down with half of the water from her bath, soaking through her white towel completely so it clung to her like a skin-tight dress. As she ran, enormous puddles of water pooled in her wake, but she didn’t care. Water could be cleaned up anytime.

She had mere moments, however, to violently murder her boss.

With an almighty cry, she launched herself at Adam’s back, still clutching the towel at the top her sternum. Her knee caught him in his lower back, causing him to stumble and trip, face-down onto the carpet of her living room.

“How-” she growled, straddling his upper back with her thighs, knees poking into his armpit, leaning forward so that her free arm curled around the front of his neck, “- the fuck did you get into my house, you disgusting piece of shit?”

“Maybe,” Adam rasped, using both of his hands to pull Lute’s arm away from his windpipe, “you should learn to lock your door, Lieutenant. You left it wide open for all of Heaven to come in and enjoy the show!”

“And you didn’t think it polite to knock?!” she roared. “Or, I don’t know, try calling me first?! What could you possibly want so fucking badly,” she grunted the last word as she squeezed her thighs against his back, bracing herself so she could fend off his hands, which were gradually freeing her elbow from his throat, “that you needed to walk in on me in the fucking bath?! How long were you standing there, perv?!”

Adam groaned in discomfort as her knees dug into his underarms. Lute squeezed harder again as she moved her mouth closer to the side of his head to get close to his ear.

“I am giving you three seconds,” she snarled, ignoring her towel slipping down her chest as she channelled all her energy into closing the gap between her elbow and his neck, “to explain yourself before I choke you to death. I don’t care if Sera casts me down into hell; a life of damnation would be worth it if it meant I got to be the one to end yo-”

Adam’s right hand let go of Lute’s forearm and he braced it on the floor so he could jerk his right shoulder up and over to his left violently, causing Lute to teeter off-balance and fall sideways onto her already bruised hip. She yelped in pain, motionless for a moment and Adam, now free, took advantage of her breather to straddle her thighs, pinning them together with his own. His knees were quickly becoming soaked as he pressed into the wet towel that still clung to her lower body, but he didn’t care. She howled in rage and made to claw at his mask with her free hand before he caught her wrist and held it to the floor above her head, his face only inches above hers. With his other hand, he swiftly untangled Lute’s fist from her towel and brought it up next to her other hand, pinning her down completely.

“Listen here, girlie,” he seethed as she thrashed her legs violently behind him, attempting to use her hips to throw him off. “I didn’t fucking come here to do anything untoward, alright? I needed to talk to you urgently and you weren’t answering your phone. Your door was wide open. What else was I supposed to do?”

“You didn’t notice the trail of clothes on the floor and think I might be otherwise occupied?”

“Oh please, I’ve seen enough thongs to last me an afterlife. Your underwear on the floor wasn’t going to stop me from finding you. Besides, I’d assumed you were in bed, asleep. Hold still you crazy bitch, I need to talk to you.”

“There is nothing you could need to tell me that necessitates coming into my home uninvited - argh.” She arched her back to try and twist herself free, her towel now dangerously close to being rendered completely useless. Frustrated, wet and spent, she let her head drop back against the carpet, her chest heaving with exhaustion. Adam’s eyes flickered downwards, and he grinned devilishly.

“Didn’t realise you gave up so easily, Dangertits.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?!” she hissed. Her cheeks flushed brilliantly as she looked down and realised that he’d snuck a quick look at her cleavage, which was beginning to spill over the top of her towel.

“You heard me, babe. I think that’s what I’ll refer to you as from now on. It really…” he let his gaze trail down to her chest again, before deliberately taking his time to being his eyes back up to hers again, knowing that he was antagonising her now. A wicked gleam etched across his mask. “…suits you. Ready to wave the white flag and hear me out?”

“I’d rather fucking die.”

“Not an option, Lieutenant. Shut up and stop running that filthy mouth of yours for a sec and listen to me. That’s an order.”

Lute glowered at him.

“Let me go.”

Adam snickered. “Not a chance.”

“Now.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“I’ll tell Sera.”

“Tattling again, Lieutenant? That would be twice today. I’ll give you a hot tip, because I’m feeling generous.” He bent his head low against her ear, his forehead pressing against her hair as he whispered into her ear. “I strongly advise you against it. Wouldn’t want the boss thinking you can’t hold your own now, would you?”

Lute shuddered at his closeness – or was the adrenaline starting to wear off and a chill settling in because of the wet towel? It didn’t matter, anyway. He was right. She couldn’t go to Sera again with something like this. It would make her appear weak. Incapable. Not to mention that the whole situation was utterly humiliating, and there was no way she was telling a single soul about what had happened tonight. Not even Vaggie.

“What do you want, then?”

Adam lifted his head back up, so their faces were parallel once more and scoffed.

“Are you kidding me, babe? We’re not having this conversation right now! In case you haven’t noticed, you’re soaking wet – not in a good way, either – and basically naked. We can talk tomorrow morning.”

“Y-you,” Lute gasped, shutting her eyes in disbelief. After all this, he wasn’t even going to tell her. Oh, how she wanted nothing more than to tear him apart, limb by limb. “You asshole. You evil, conniving sonnuva-”

“Nine o’clock. Our office.” Adam released his grip on her wrist and rose to a standing position. He held out his hand to help her up, but Lute swatted it away angrily. He could shove it up his ass, as far she was concerned.

“Don’t be late.” He straightened his robes and headed towards her front door, whistling merrily to himself. Lute pulled herself into a sitting position, readjusting her towel so she was adequately covered once more. She said a silent prayer of thanks that the wetness of the towel meant that it stuck tight to her lower body, ensuring some level of modesty for her during their scrap. She desperately wanted to scream at him, throw something at his head, charge at him again and make him pay for the humiliation she’d just suffered.

But she didn’t. Because, despite wanting to exact her revenge immediately with every fibre of her being, she was overwhelmingly exhausted. At this point, all she had the energy to do was crawl into bed and forget that she’d even woken up this morning.

Adam grinned as he opened the door.

“At ease, Dangertits.” He saluted her mockingly before exiting.

He managed to close the door just in time to hear the TV remote hit the back of the door and clang to the floor.

***

Next time: Lute's suspicious that Adam's trying to poison her.

#hazbin hotel #adam x lute #guardrock #guitarspear #guitarspear fic #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin lute

43 notes · View notes

the-s1lly-corner · 1 year ago

Note

Keep requesting from different people with no luck but what if jason voorhees had a S/O who reads to him when he's "sleeping" in the lake and he has dreams about the story and has a dream of him and the reader as beauty and the beast?

Reading B&B to Jason + Dream stuff!

while this isnt a slasher blog and i am grossly underqualified to speak of anything book related to beauty and the beast, i truly do love this idea + i really felt the whole request thing </3 this aint perfect but i hope you enjoy it regardless! may your other/future requests be answered someday! !!!quick note, admins only exposure to beauty and the beast is the original disney film, they have never read any renditions of it so theyre going off the basic bare bones concept not proof read, i am literally belting this out before i gotta bake an order </3

I could be silly, i could make him dream of himself as the beauty as opposed to being the beast, but im not 100% sure how i would go about writing that.... perhaps ill save that for the next time my slasher brainrot strikes me

i think he would love that you read for him, small little act that helps heal that inner child inside him + it reminds him of how his mom used to read to him at night. its almost bittersweet... im torn on whether or not pam would've read him beauty and the beast/similar adjacent tales. I admit, I'm not sure how many renditions of the story there are, and which ones were around when Jason was a kid but lets say, for convivence lets say she didnt

whenever you read to him hes hooked on every word you say, head in your lap and looking up at you with this sort of sparkle in his eye. loves it when you put on goofy voices for different characters. generally a very calm and peaceful moment between the two of you

so imagine offering to read the story to him, and he is just. totally immersed. even before he falls asleep he sees the parallels between the book and you, bonus if you somehow find a way to show him the disney movie of it

as for the dreams, naturally he's in the beasts position. solitary and secluded away from others, and self admittedly from the man himself, a sight for sore eyes (no matter how much some may disagree), and you as the beauty (not that much changes in the dream, he already sees you as something radiant)

the first time he has the dream he doesnt really say anything about it, actually he doesnt remember most of the dream thanks to him nearly forgetting everything that second he wakes up

but the dream keeps happening, even long after you first read the story to him, and each night he seems to be able to piece everything together

you wander into his home, and he keeps you. protects you, actually. the events of your arrival in the dream are blurred, but seem to line up with how you first entered his life.

theres no talking furniture, unfortunately

however i do wanna say theres talking animals in their place

nature boy

actually, jason doesnt seem to be a prince in his dreams, just a simple man

hes not even a physical monster in his dreams.

but unlike the disney adaptation, when the whole... breaking the curse thing happens, there is no transformation. so hey, theres that at least

he eventually talks to you about it, sheepishly signing the details to you as he tries to not seem embarrassed about it. but he cant help but to get giddy when he sees your smile

"aww you dream about me?" is a comment sure to make his signing pause for a second before he covers his hands over his mask

i wish i had more for this but im on a bit of a time crunch atm and as stated in the authors note my only exposure is the disney film and SOBS

you (making sure hes okay with the nickname first, obviously) playfully call him beast, and he starts calling you beauty

the story eventually kind of becomes you guys' thing, like how some couples have their song or their movie or their whatever

#slasher x you #slasher imagine #slasher x reader #jason voorhees x you #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees imagine

67 notes · View notes

lunastarhawk · 3 months ago

Text

WiP proof of life Wednesday (Tides of Memories part 26)

Whisper it quietly, but I've all of a sudden found my mojo and picked up pace with this thing. I've got a little bit silly with it, but that's what I needed, I think.

A snipperoo...

The little silver bell on the mainmast rang a gentle welcome as Julian crossed the deck. He stopped for a moment, turning around on the spot and taking in a deep lungful of salty sea air, the scent of tar, hemp and canvas wax, and freshly cured wood, the lowering sun warming his cheeks. The sounds of the city were distant, but the shouts of dockworkers, the clanging of metal tools on wood, the raucous laughter of sailors and the singing of a sea shanty carried on the breeze were welcome. But The Southern Cross wasn’t just a ship. She was a gate. A magical one, no less. A concept that Julian once would have been afraid of, poured scorn on, or been sceptical of - or all three - was here, beneath his boots. He could feel it, with all of his senses. The wooden beams and masts, the pine tar caulk, the hemp rope, the canvas sails, the steel rivets, all thrummed softly with magic. It was barely noticeable, but when Julian closed his eyes and reached for it, it was there. It was the sea and the stars, Altheia and him, where together they’d joined their magic, pulled the ship up from the depths of an ocean in the Arcana realms… together, the navigator and the privateer. It meant that now, with his eyes closed and face turned up to the sky, he could feel her there, as if she were standing next to him, her aura surrounding him. A fierce tempest, a summer’s tide, a spring storm, a dewy mist, all were her and her magic. He hadn’t realised he’d closed his eyes and was swaying on his feet with exhaustion, until a loud caw from above startled him awake. He opened his eyes just in time to see Malak drop down and land heavily on the starboard rail, ragged wings spread to keep his balance as he settled. “Hello Malak,” Julian said with a tired smile. “I don’t think I need you to watch out for me here.” NICE BOAT

Julian startled into jumping back at the sudden voice, nearly dropping his book, and stared wide-eyed at the raven. THE BOAT! IT’S NICE! Julian winced; the raven’s ‘voice’ was hoarse, and loud. “Firstly, she’s a ship, not a boat. Secondly, she’s a she, not an it. And thirdly… was that really you? You’re talking to me?” Malak rustled his wings, and then turned to preening them. When he didn’t say anymore, Julian smiled and shook his head. “I really am tired. Sleep in the crow’s nest if you like.” He gestured to the top of the mainmast. Malak squawked indignantly. RAVEN! RAVEN’S NEST! Julian blinked; the raven sounded clearly disgruntled. “Right. Yes, if you like.” I WATCH. “There's really no need…” I WATCH! The raven glared indignantly. Julian bowed his head, not quite knowing what to say. Eventually he managed, “Good. Thank you.” Bewildered, and wondering if he really was so tired that he was hallucinating voices, Julian turned and pushed open the door to the cabin with his foot.

#the arcana fanfic #julian devorak #tides of memories #wip wednesday #i'm screaming but i'm having fun #<- that's a writing tag

10 notes · View notes

narnianwizard · 1 month ago

Text

Halloween Film Frightstival Day 3: John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982)

Initial thoughts:

1. Holy 80’s computer animation Batman

2. The pupper already has my heart and soul, is just a happy little snow dog running in the snow, can do no wrong (for the record I maintain that Cujo did nothing wrong as well)

3. Oops I forgot that I think Kurt Russell in the 80s was kinda hot

4. The chef guy on the roller skates is gonna die (maybe first), calling it now

5. I know it’s supposed to be scary, but the concept of bloodcicles is strangely amusing to me

I know the costume department can’t cover the lead actors faces but these men are seriously underdressed for Antarctica, where’s that meme of that Irish kid talking about frostbit when you need it?

80’s movie? Flamethrower. Always with the flamethrower.

This is on par with The Fly for proof that 80s practical effects are a million times grosser than modern CGI stuff

Old white doctor man with a nose ring is a vibe and a half

Oh my god the defibrillator going straight through the guy’s chest and the ribs just munching the doctor’s hands off was probably supposed to be scary a la the chest scene in Alien, but I was legitimately cackling

The guy sticking his fingers through the other guy’s face was actually a really cool effect, it reminded me of Cassandra Nova fingering everybody’s brains in Deadpool and Wolverine, except with special effects makeup instead of CGI

Okay I totally didn’t get bored and zone out in the middle part of the movie (except I did because it was just a lot of dudes grumbling at and blaming each other, there were no stakes, I could hardly keep the characters straight and didn’t care about any of them)

I also lowkey zoned out during the very end because I didn’t realize it was the end, I hate when movies just end abruptly like that. So I don’t actually know if my prediction about roller skate guy dying was right oh well

The action was very actiony, over the top and at times overacted. The effects are really good, but the gore was way too cheesy to actually be scary. I mean come on there were like 30 seconds straight of a very obvious mannequin being eaten head first by a creature while flailing about and fake blood spraying everywhere, that’s so silly. I think the creature stuff could’ve been really scary if I couldn’t visually see the texture of whatever clay material they crafted them out of, it was really impressive as art, not so much as something designed to give me the heebie-jeebies.

It wasn’t bad per se but it wasn’t good either. The special effects and prop stuff were really good, but the plot, writing, characters, acting, etc were extremely mid. It’s gonna be a meh from me dawg 🫤

#halloween #horror movies #the thing 1982 #john carpenter’s the thing #Halloween Film Frightstival

5 notes · View notes

goingghostcomic · 6 months ago

Note

Does the fact that DP now has an official canon continuation affect you while working on the comic

Like does the new canon stuff influence your own vision or has your vision for your reboot remained the same since you started?

Sorry it's taken so long to answer so I'll match with a long answer and update in my process, I'm so sorry lol

But no, an official canon continuation will not stop me from making the comic. And while I do own the new comic and plan on getting all the future official DP merch I can get my hands on, it wont effect my story in the slightest because I haven't read it. Plus I've already written my story and I'm very happy with it. I will someday read the new comic but not anytime soon, I'm just so happy it exists and that it's in my hands either way.

What might stop me (for a little bit at least) is a full on rebooted series, not a continuation/revival because the fandom has been around so long and we've all influenced each other in big or little ways. And since we're all playing in the same sandbox there's naturally some overlap. But this started as a pitch bible/proof of concept for a full on reboot of my own and if there's an active reboot airing I'd be very sad it wasn't mine (so silly I know lol but it's true).

What has stopped me is the a back and forth issue I have on the comic in general. I have found a style of comic I enjoy making, but I have gotten in my own head about it being stiff and bad. I know practice make progress and I'm getting more confident about it and also considering making it into a fic with art and slowly adapting it into a comic just so I can have some thing to post and put out there. But my iPad is dying and outside of sketches on paper I haven't been able to write or draw to the extent I'd like. I've been saving for a new one for a while now and about half way there but life happens and it takes a toll on my savings. So I'm trying to decide what's the best way to proceed and I have a lot of options and that's also a little overwhelming, which sounds silly typing out. But it's easy for me to feel guilt every time I try to commit to one game plan because all my best options rely on me getting a new iPad

#ask me anything #danny phantom reboot planning #going ghost comic #goingghostcomic #its been hard saving for an ipad lol #i have to take care of bills and my mom #plus im slowly getting merch to open a shop #and hopefully that'll help too #all ipad time i can get has been to prep merch for sale #im at over 40k words at the halfway point of my second detailed draft #one more sweep and it might be fic ready #i just haven't decided whats the best route to take because I have SO MUCH in the concept and rough stages still #i might be bitching and moaning in the tags about money #but im sure as hell not going to ask for it unless I have something solid and tangible in return #but this is why my art production has functionally halted #sorry for using your ask as an infodump update #ive been hesitant to make one because I dont want to let anyone down #not you or my followers or myself

19 notes · View notes

mamuzzy · 10 months ago

Text

Okay, my temporary-brainfuckery is over, I'm kind of hyped now about the new year and can look back at 2023 with much more contentment. So I jumped on the train of doing Art Summary too :))) (template HERE)

Yeah, what the fuck did I do in the first half of the year... honestly, I don't remember. No, really, I can't remember...

My sketchbook can be dated back to 2021 with some old Touken Ranbu and merfolk sketches, but I don't remember actually opening it this year until june...

...and guys, I actually have only a few pages left to fill!!!! I kind of proud of myself. Joining into TCW fandom really did wonders with my creativity and productivity.

I'll get sappy with this probably, but the existence of this blog, a filled up sketchbook in my hand is the very proof that I exist. When bdick fucks me in the brain, I can't remember having these wonderful memories of creating but when my mind clears from the fog, I come up here, looking at my little fortress, looking at my silly doodles, I don't feel that I have to build up everything from the start, and I actually managed to create a safe-place for myself that welcomes me back when I return from those dark places. My art maybe not visually pleasing, my anatomy is shit, but they are mine and most importantly THEY EXIST.

❀ My artistic plans for the future in this blog... ❀ ❀ To continue creating: daily doodles. Not sure about uploading it daily but maybe making compilations from my sketchbook from time-to-time. I'm expecting to have a more relaxed job time-wise, also I'm on a medication now due to my migraines, maybe I won't spend half of my year sleeping just escape from the pain. ❀ Creating character bios for my OC's. ❀ Participating in events/doing challenges: The whole concept is scary for me because deadlines are stressing me out, and I'm a slow artist.

❀ One of the self-made challenge: Redraw my sketchbook from 2012-2014. I probably mentioned that I've found it some time ago and actually chickened out from uploading them because most of the sketches in them are quite... hmm... bpd related without me knowing I had bpd back then (also i don't want them to hide under cut because then what's the point of uploading???). But it would be interesting to redesign them and make a comparison post about it.

❀ be more authentic with my art: my original plan with this blog was to use art to heal myself, and while drawing funny stuff is great, I still believe I'm self-censoring myself both in art and both in personal posts just like I'm masking in real life and it's. fucking. exhausting. My mental fuckery is a part of my life, part of me.

❀ Writing short stories: TCW, TBB, RepComm, million ideas in my head.

❀ Getting started on my Deadshot story: A multichaptered longfic starting from Umbara arc (I wrote ARC again), following the canon events but will deviate at some points.

❀ Getting started on my urban fantasy Coruscant Guard Story.

I could go on but I don't want to set unrealistic and unachievable goals either. YEAR JUST STARTED AND IT'S ALMOST OVER!!!

Thank you for hanging out with me in 2023, thank you for giving me a chance with those prompt-games and requests. I love you guys.

#art summary 2023 #the clone wars #the bad batch #republic commando #mamuzzy draws stuff

12 notes · View notes

nastasyafilippovnabarashkova · 11 months ago

Text

a third jimmystasya proof based on the prompt "flamethrower"

silly taglist: @knightfallships @tothemoon-ships

“Do you know what a flamethrower is, Nastenka?” I asked her while adjusting my cravat, getting ready to go to the opera.

She sighed, plucking a rhinestone off her skirt and looking at it with disinterest before throwing it my way. “No. Do we have to go to this opera? I don’t want to go. Let's stay home and read.”

“You wanted to go this morning. Two tickets to Robert le Diable, kind of a big deal, very expensive…” I waved the tickets in front of her. “Don’t you think it would be good for you to go out? You haven’t been anywhere in three days… what will people think?” I asked her teasingly. “And what do we have to read besides my textbooks? You��ve read everything else on the shelf several times.”

“They were not expensive. You stole them from the General’s portfolio when Gavril Ardalionovitch wasn’t looking. But, to commend your efforts, I suppose I’ll go. I won’t promise to stay awake through all five acts.”

In the carriage, after convincing me it would look unseemly if I was kneeling on the floor the entire time, she asked, “What was it about a flamethrower? If it wasn’t something you were saying only to get my attention.”

I leaned over to whisper in her ear, as if it was some illicit information. “It’s a device, a sort of thing that… it shoots flammable liquid… lights it on fire with…. Fire… you see?” My explanations were not the most comprehensible, since I was at the moment busying myself with buttoning up the back of her gown. I was hoping there was an unspoken metaphor somewhere in my words, but even I knew that was a stretch.

“Oh, didn’t the Greeks have something like that?” she was quiet for a moment, biting her lip slightly while lost in thought. I too, was silent, because she looked so very beautiful at the moment I wouldn’t dare interrupt her. “Yes, yes, I think they did. So you aren’t making it up, then! Good job, Yasha, your studies are leaving some knowledge in your little head. Was there a point in bringing it up?”

“I was thinking that if I could flamethrow a person, as it were, if they happened to look at you in an insulting way, especially certain persons we don’t speak of in good company, it would lead us both to have much happier lives.”

She took my arm from where it was still fiddling with her buttons and warmly pressed my hand, the fur lining of her gloves tickling my skin. “I wouldn’t be at all opposed to that concept. If you happen to come upon a flamethrower, or, God forbid, happen to make one yourself for homework in one of your classes, I would be willing to test it for you. But I fear I would become overzealous and burn down that whole damned apartment. I’ve been meaning to move out for so long, the place disgusts me, all the wealth… burning it down would be a delightful excuse. Then we could live in the streets and bored princes could pay you to set their debts aflame.”

I stroked her cheek and kissed her before she got any more carried away, although of course I loved to hear her go on about absolutely anything.

When we arrived at the opera, she pretended to be bored so we could spend almost the entirety of the first act making eye contact and trying not to laugh at any number of unspoken jokes about what was taking place on stage. The General happened to have good tickets in a private box, which led to many a debaucherous opportunity. This was only taken advantage of when I tapped Nastasya’s foot with my own, using enough force to dislodge her shoe. She wouldn’t look at me for half of the second act after that.

After a while, she nudged me. “Did you see, down there? Totsky’s here, the bastard! He has a lot of nerve to be here when I am. He’s not as afraid of me as he should be.”

“I don’t think he knew you were going to be here, darling,” I said jokingly, but put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to me since I knew she would be upset at the bastard’s presence, even if she didn’t want to show it. “If he did know, I’m sure he would run away right this instant.”

“It’s a shame we don’t have that flamethrower,” she said thoughtfully, “I would pull it out right now. You would have to be carrying it, of course, it’s not the sort of thing a lady would carry, but then again, I’m not a lady-”

I gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “Shush. You are. I’ll carry it.”

“And I suppose the range wouldn’t be very large. I’d have to go down there and find him before he got away.”

“I can make sure he won’t get away.”

“Then I’d have to figure out how to start it up, and I suppose I’d be a little nervous.”

“I don’t think you’d be nervous.”

“No, you’re right. I wouldn’t. I would kill him right there, then come back up here with you and watch the rest of this boring opera.”

I knew she didn’t think it was boring because she almost cried during the last aria, but I kept that to myself. “It would be a fine intermission. Better than this one.”

“Oh, intermission already.”

The rest of the intermission was spent with the very wholesome activity of seeing just how much kissing we could get away with. It was a very acceptable amount, considering the shadows in the box. I went and got her ice cream with the last two kopecks in my pocket, then used the last two kopecks in someone else’s pocket to get her a fancy little sandwich.

Although the rest of the opera wasn’t any more boring than the beginning had been, I was very tired from a day of studying and running around town, so I did end up falling asleep on her shoulder. She didn’t wake me up and I presume and enjoyed the weight of my body on hers, since I imagine she might have been a bit anxious, considering the circumstances. She was, after all, a good pillow, her perfume being lavender-esque, lulled me into a deeper sleep. I had very pleasant dreams of doing exactly what we did that night because my subconscious couldn’t think of anything better. I only woke up when she shook me and whispered in my ear a threat to leave me behind and run off with the actors. I woke up in no short amount of time, grabbing her possessively and overdramatically begging her not to leave me for the fellow in the red tights who was currently bowing on the stage.

After exiting the opera house, I held her hand in both of mine, intent on keeping it warm as snow began to fall. The snowflakes were large, their shapes almost discernible even as they were falling, and looked like glitter in her hair and I had to stop her from shaking them off.

“Don’t, they look so pretty!” I insisted, pulling her down the street as if we were running through a snowy forest rather than walking on the dirty street.

She laughed, allowing herself to be pulled in accordance with my fantasy. “My hair will be all wet. You’re terribly impractical, Yashka.”

“It’ll be wet anyway. I’m more concerned about these pretty little hands of yours! We must do something so that they don't freeze off.

She removed her hands from mine, wiggling her fingers as if to say, “they are very firmly on my arm,” but I stopped her nonsense by grabbing one of her hands, putting in my coat pocket, and pressing the other one to my heart.

“There you are. Now we just have to maintain this arrangement for five more blocks.”

#ill write the spaghetti part at some point i just wanted to finish this. there #writing #jimmystasya

3 notes · View notes

volfoss · 2 years ago

Text

Silly little doll box opening (kind of) post for um a VERY heavily modified body :)

This is kind of a two in one post as I bought this head and it FINALLY came weeks ago and i have been waiting for his body to start working on him!

So the head was stuck in the UK for 2 plus weeks but he's absolutely gorgeous. Arrived to me with a slightly damaged faceup but he is probably the only more realistic styled bjd I'll ever get because his PROFILE!!!!! He's got such a gorgeous nose and such a kind smile, as well as the cutest ears that stick out.

^ stealing Dindrane's body (they are about 10 cm of a height difference so it did NOT work but it was nice to get a proof of concept for him on a body!) And him blank! Literally no pictures can capture how lovely he is irl 🥺

The body was a HUNT. His resin color is one that is very hard to match, much less when it's yellowed like he was (iirc he's about 10 or so years old) so I had been keeping my eyes out on the secondhand market. At the same time, I'd been HAUNTED by this very modified body that was the right scale but would be a ton of work to get it where I wanted it to be. I spotted this body months before I bought the head but continued to tell myself I would NOT get it because the amount of work would be immense. The more I looked into bodies and when I compared the one I had been considering, the colors were far too off. In the back of my brain, I remembered the body that I had been beating the temptation to get for months and hunted for resin comparisons. Funnily enough it seemed it would match really well or at least close enough so I bit the bullet and went for it. This body has been spray painted and sculpted on but it was objectively the best deal and the best match so I was pretty hopeful. (I love to get big projects and have 30 million of them). The neck measurements were also super close so I was PUMPED to get him on a body.

The body came to me unstrung (and I promptly forgot this information until I opened the box and was like oh fuck it is going to be a silly restringing moment)

I cannot even remotely emphasize just HOW big this doll is and how much I did not expect that. His torso (not even including his chest) is the size of my hand.

^ rough resin match which showed the head was a tiny bit lighter but I needed to sand the body anyways and it was lightly body blushed so I have pretty high hopes it'll match when I'm done :) or at least close enough! The tendril looking things are the sculpted on bits and I plan on keeping them a bit, but sanding some completely off and some down a little to fit my vision for him!

All unpacked and laid out! He's absolutely GORGEOUS sculpting wise, the detail on the hands and feet alone are more than worth it for me!

Like the veins and the overall sculpting are SO gorgeous. I'm so happy with him :)

^ kitty cat helper 🥺 i was having the fight of my life with this body because he comes up to me eye level when I'm sitting down. He's BIG. (Iirc nearly 30 inches tall) and very heavy!

I had to redo the stringing here but seeing him all put together was so so good! It fits his head size perfectly and is the exact body shape I wanted for him!

^ fully put together!! He's got so much personality and honestly is gonna be so so fun for me to work on!

^ next to my other biggest dolls. He is a UNIT

#twist rambles #bjd posting #dindrane #maris #aramis #<- sculpt name hopefully ill remember I tagged under this since he has no name as of rn #fun facts his dick is jointed. thats why im having to take extra caution censoring it bc it is THERE.

14 notes · View notes

theashemarie · 2 years ago

Text

Raph 2.0 - ROTTMNT Fic

It's Mikey who asks: “How do you tell a brain scan that it’s a brain scan and not the real thing?” Leo waves him off. It’ll never come to that. Eventually he counts the days not by sunrises or brain scans. He counts in moments post-Raph.

[Quite frankly, I don't normally write stuff like this and I don't know if I'm going to continue this, but this little 900 word proof of concept keeps niggling me, so I figured I'd post it to get a feel. If you're interested in more, let me know, yeah?

For more of my work, see my ao3.

Content warning for major character death (not depicted on screen) and brief underage drinking (for the USA anyway--mentioned and not depicted). It's the bad future, folks.]

Time is a blur in the apocalypse. After a while, Leo loses track of the days and events. Donnie mutters about memory encoding and lack of sleep as he scrapes uselessly at the bottom of the second-to-last plastic tub of cheap, off brand coffee, but they all largely ignore him.

For a while, Leo counts the time by brain scan. It was a morbid, Frankenstein idea, suggested by an eighteen-year-old Donnie after one too many drinks, but one he followed through on. As Donnie first fitted the electrodes to his head with his perpetually cold hands, Leo realized that the hushed, drunken whispering had in fact been an admission, a first-time utterance of a desperate, almost-complete idea. If he scanned all their brains regularly, Donnie slurred, some piece of them could live on if the impossible occurred.

Leo is the test dummy, and he stares at his brainwaves after the fact, trying to find himself in the dips and rises. Donnie copies it five times, to different drives, backups for the backups of Leo’s backup, and it’s done.

Raph gives in next, seeing the utility of it, even as Mikey resists. The morality of it is too messy for their youngest, most thoughtful brother, and he outlines nightmare scenarios to Leo over scribbled evacuation plans, drafted escape routes—“How do you tell a brain scan that it’s a brain scan and not the real thing?”

Leo waves him off. It’ll never come to that.

Eventually he counts the days not by sunrises or brain scans. He counts in moments post-Raph.

Day 1: Mikey is nowhere to be found for hours, and Casey Jr. finds him sitting in a tree, leg swinging, unable to do anything but cry. Leo holds him close and weeps with him.

Day 5: Donnie hasn’t said a word since they returned, uneven, four-turned-three, and Leo only sees him in glimpses.

Day 17: They have to move base, and there’s no one to carry all the little children on their back, no one to distract them with silly stories and I Spy. They walk, holding hands, and look incredibly lost.

Day 25: An attempt at an intervention in a new location. Their oldest brother doesn’t haunt this new, temporary base, so Leo and Mikey find the strength to force their way into Donnie’s little corner.

Day 25: They stare up at Donnie’s newest creation. They take in the familiar shapes of the face and body. Mikey grabs Leo’s arm in a way that says that Leo’s strong frame is the only thing keeping him upright.

Day 25: Leo says, “What. The hell. Is this?”

Donnie says, “It’s exactly what it looks like. It’s Raph 2.0.”

Leo says, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

And Donnie says, “Everything. Same as you.”

Donnie requests that his brothers attend with him when he uploads the brain scan.

“Last scan was right before…” He trails off mid-explanation, but they all know. Before the worst day of their lives. “He won’t know what happened. He’ll be confused and will need familiar faces.”

“It,” Leo stresses, “will be fine.”

Donnie sends him a pained glance. “He is Raph. The brain scan is Raph’s. There’s no functional difference—”

“Like hell there isn’t!” Leo cries, smashing his fist on the table. “Raph is gone, and you’re trying to run off and replace him!”

“I—”

“Admit it!”

“Leo.” Mikey’s hand lands on his arm and, when Leo and Donnie look at him, he sighs, big and heavy. He seems to have aged ten years in a month. “We need to do this.”

It’s the last thing Leo expected from him, and he jerks away. “What? You hate this brain scan stuff.”

Mikey sighs again. “I do, but it’s too late now.”

“He hasn’t uploaded it yet!”

“I know, but he will. There’s no stopping him. Unless you want to delete the scan.”

Leo feels something big, huge, and dark open up inside him. Mikey’s voice is modulated, careful, and he’s not looking at either of them. Instead, his eyes are trained on the emotionless face of the robot that Donnie somehow built, transported here, and reassembled without either of them knowing. He looks broken, Leo’s little brother, and like he’s facing down a grief large enough to swallow him whole.

Deleting the scans would be the ethical thing to do. Raph is gone. Their giant, warm, protective older brother has been taken from them, and there’s no getting him back—at least in ways that won’t feel like a dark facsimile. Donnie is attempting to raise the dead, that’s all this is. Some sort of macabre, technological necromancy that’s attempting to plug in holes that will never be repairable. Deleting the scans will allow all of them to move on.

It’s the right thing to do.

But Leo isn’t sure if he can.

“You’ll have to kill me,” Donnie says, flat, and Leo sees his hand curl around the collapsed tech bo he keeps on his hip. There’s a steeliness to his gaze that says that he’s completely serious. He’s willing to fight to the death to protect the last remnants of their oldest brother.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Leo answers, unmoored, drifting out to sea without any shoreline to guide him. “And we’re not deleting the scan.”

“Leo,” Mikey says, and wraps his fingers around Leo’s. “We need to be there. For Raph.”

Leo stares down at his fists, feeling approximately like the world is somehow ending even more than it already was. For Raph.

Because it’s their brother’s scan. It’s Raph as he was, right before they lost him. The robot won’t know any better. Raph won’t know any better.

Raph won’t know that he died.

They’ll have to tell him.

Mikey squeezes his hand, and Leo knows then that his little brother has already put this together.

“This sucks,” Leo groans, and it’s all the agreement Donnie needs.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rise move spoilers #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #ashe writes #honestly the morality of robots and brain scans was too interesting for me to pass up #even if writing angst like this wears me out #unstoppable force (interesting sci-fi tropes) vs immovable object (general lack of stamina when it comes to angst)

14 notes · View notes

junigray · 3 months ago

Text

The more I internalized the premise that "readers treat fic as a product to consume" the more unpleasant writing fic became until I finally crashed out on it.

But starting the game project with the sense that "I am making a product for an audience" is a bit stressful because it makes this early phase where the first things I make are going to be crap, harder to take.

In my head, fic is a social thing, fic is pumpkin carving day where me and my friends sit around someone's dining table and scoop out pumpkin guts and carve a bunch of silly faces onto the pumpkins. It's a communal creative activity. I'm doing my own thing but I am doing it among other people who are also doing it and we're all a little messy and a little goofy and there are knives involved.

And I haven't been able to get that feeling out for fic for years now.

So just make something Else. There are other ways to scratch the storytelling itch.

The game thing though, I am considering it from a "product" standpoint. Audience matters in a way it didn't for fic. The production time lines and skill set development means starting "wrong" feels expensive.

Which is not the right place to be for my skill set.

I need to start at play.

And I keep getting bogged down in how far from the vision this thing will be.

Everything is new.

Which swings between being exciting and being wildly overwhelming because my eyes are way too high on the prize of finishing the product.

Void is huge and needs a deep plot. I'm still working away at it on a concept level so I can outline and write it. The game making part of it is pretty far off.

The porn game has stalled but I might come back to it. My sex drive is low now but talk to me again as the hormones change so it may still be coming back around.

Scribble stalled out when I made and uploaded a bunch of art and then realized that I had fucked up and left the background layer on the PNGs. I can pick this up again but I prioritized Void instead.

There's a piece of me that wants to make a proof of concept mini-game.

There's a piece of me that knows that that should just be the cat game. That's the tutorial project but I want to do something More.

I want to hit something more Story Rich.

I think I'm still just learning what I want to do in this genre.

0 notes

transmissionsfromthebattlefield · 11 months ago

Text

There's No Trains To Heaven

Things I made this semester: A just barely 19 page long historiography paper. An accompanying 7 and a half page long research proposal with 22 page long annotated bibliography because I found too many interesting sources and had too much to say about them. An 8 page long paper about seditious speech that could have been a little shorter but I had too much to say about that, too. One data research analysis report (with accompanying fun bar graph). A basically functional, entirely responsive website with 7 individual pages (which I'm still putting the final touches on). In between all of this I recorded an eleven song album of nuclear reactor core folk ditties, all by my lonesome.

T’was a good semester.

I also changed my major. Again. This summer I'd declared a second major in history to go with my studies in emerging media and technology with a minor in web design. But I wasn't too sure about the latter degree. Part of why I was clinging to EMAT was plain ol' fear, to be completely honest. Not a crippling or conscious fear, but the oft-restated assumption lingering in the back of my head: it'll make you marketable. If you get a bachelor of arts, you'll either be out of a decent job or trapped in the stressful, low-paying world of education. Get that ~science~ certificate in your life and you'll be rolling in that dough and not destute, unlike those silly B.A. kids.

Well, I don't necessarily agree with that train of thought. Having had the concept of "STEM" shoved down my throat in even middle school, I've grown critical of the importance we place on those fields specifically. As vital as technology and science are, you also have to realize that the social sciences are just as useful to, well, society. Yet such fields are looked down upon. No wonder people nowadays are barely capable of critical thought, take everything (especially media) at face value, and barely know the basic facts about their own country's past. It's because we condition kids to doze off in their classes and not take education on any level seriously, especially not the subjects associated with boring, stuffy things like reading and interpreting and thinking. Too much hard work, let's rah-rah the football team instead.

Learning history and connecting it to the present is one of the most important things you can do to become a more aware citizen, and it's time we stop pushing this culture of self-consciousness over what people think of us because of our degrees or careers and actually work on ourselves to actually get some informed participation in society. As for the career part, my workplace on campus is proof enough to me that studying history can get you a fulfilling job that lets you utilize the skills you honed and information about the wider world you picked up in your studies. It helps you connect with people and their past experiences. It helps you contextualize the world you currently live in. And by studying things objectively, it helps you become a more logical person less swayed by disgusting propagandic appeals to emotion. It just helps you become a better person. Realizing that that is the path I want to take, as opposed to sticking with a major I just wasn't fully jiving with in the name of some enigmatic ideal of making my chosen institution proud or something, is very freeing.

The web design minor is staying because I just genuinely love twiggling around with my little HTML and CSS files and applying my graphic design Skillz in that manner. On the other hand, I've picked up another minor: creative writing. I've always taken my writing abilities for granted; I'm a great writer, I'd say. But only now have I really felt empowered (to use a cheesy term for lack of a better one) to express it in a creative way - and not just in the songwriting department. I think I felt for a while that I had to suppress my "creative" side in order to appear serious to...I don't even know who I was trying to appeal to. But my brain has been firing off in too many directions lately, and has been too inspired by the world around me and my various influences to let my individual perspective linger in the background. I gotta do me.

So I went from English while enrolling --> Journalism because I was under the assumption that all the English majors were going to be Swifties --> Public Relations for a few weeks because I had no idea what I was doing --> Emerging Media and Technology with web design concentration --> History + EMAT + web design --> History major + web design minor + creative writing minor. That's a really weird and still incomplete circle, but it's fun to think about.

#blog #college #changing majors #history major #creative writing

0 notes

tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 1 year ago

Text

Here's some stuff about a comedy show I heard recently called Lou Wall versus the Internet. I meant to write a proper review of the show; obviously I ended up doing what I frequently do, which is slipping into a bunch of personal stuff that the show made me think of. What can I say, I'm not Steve Bennett. We can't all be Steve Bennett. It was a very good and well put together show and I recommend it to anyone who has the chance to see it.

Spoiler alert for a show that's still touring.

So, I’ve gotten into a relatively specific comedy demographic lately: the queer Australian. Obviously we all know about Hannah Gadsby as proof of concept that the queer Australian comedian is a good idea, but I somewhat recently watched/heard all the works I could find by Laura Davis and Geraldine Hickey. Then last week found a couple of shows by Zoe Coombs Marr and wondered why I’d waited so long to get into her, it was brilliant. And of course, when it comes to queer Australian comedy, representing the men’s side we’ve got Tom Ballard. It’s a solid demographic.

I’ve just heard a show by a person I’d not heard of before named Lou Wall, and can now add another one to the list. It’s one of the most intense comedy shows I’ve ever heard; I quickly realized that this isn’t one I can listen to while half paying attention. Or even 75% paying attention. I need to throw my full attention at catching every word of it, or it’ll wash right over my head. In fact, I know I still missed some stuff. It ran a little shorter than an hour, but I see why, because it still felt like at least 90 minutes of material. They just put two seconds of material into each second of the show, and then burned out after 45 minutes of doing that.

I think the fast pace of this show worked in its favour, because making me work so hard to keep up with it let me more easily turn off the part of my brain that was saying… I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. They forced us to get on board, right from the beginning, so I found myself going with it even when it went completely off the rails.

It’s a show about being jealous of their best friend, due to getting beaten on metrics like amount of money made and number of Tik-Tok followers. Which is about the least sympathetic position I can imagine. At first, I was very much having trouble going with it, for reasons that I can best explain by remembering when I watched Maisie Adam’s show, and there was a whole bit about how she was planning a wedding and was going to do all the wedding traditions but rehearsing them made he realize how rooted in sexism they all are. And she’d point things out, like, “Hey guys, have you ever realized that the father walking his daughter down the aisle to her husband is actually, when you really think about it, kind of fucked up?” To which I thought, “Yes, Maisie, I know it is, so why are you doing it? You’re talking as though this is just an inevitable part of life and you’ve found a flaw in it, but not really. It’s an archaic tradition and you could just walk down the aisle together.” And I suppose that line of thinking is why a lot of observational comedy gets lost on me.

I felt that a bit, during some of Lou Wall’s show. They’re telling us all these revelations they’ve had about how getting jealous of someone’s Tik-Tok followers is actually shallow and a bad idea, and… yes I know that, Lou. It sounds like an incredibly silly thing to do. Why don’t you stop using Tik-Tok, then? I feel that way a lot, actually, when comedians do “relatable” material about what it’s like to spend hours scrolling on Instagram and getting jealous of their friends who get married. “Wow, that sounds like a bad idea. Stop doing it, then. No one needs to be on Instagram.”

So I had to manually force myself to shut down the judgemental side of me during Lou Wall’s show, and that got easier because the pace of the show didn’t leave me with much room to think. Also, they weren’t claiming it was a good thing. The whole show was about how fucked up it is. But the show hinged on the idea that it’s a fucked up part of life that we all have to find a way to deal with, and… no, I don’t think so. I don’t think we all have to be jealous of our friends’ Tik-Tok followers, do we? I don’t spend my time working hard to avoid being jealous of friends’ Tik-Tok followers, it just doesn’t matter.

This is what I sort of thought, in the 2% of my brain that was not being used to keep up with the show’s relentless pace, so of course I still got drawn in. And the character is compelling. If I thought the whole thing were in character, that none of it really happened, I’d have found it much easier to enjoy (a bit the way I feel when Jessie Cave and Alfie Brown do stuff about each other – if I thought they were playing really fucked up characters and no real-life children are living in that real-life mess, it would be a lot easier to take in). It felt a bit like they were doing the whole thing in character as Rebecca Bunch from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, and I loved watching Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. That kind of shit makes for great fiction, but would be less good if that show were a documentary.

As it was, I found some of her comments funny, but I struggled to fully get on board fully because it just seemed so fundamentally divorced from the human experience as I know it. And then at some point I realized I could not think of a good reason why my own experiences of jealousy are any more valid than theirs. I have literally thought about this before – multiple times, and relatively recently. That comedians, and maybe artists in general, struggle with the fact that everything’s been done before. Every part of life, every human emotion, has been explored so thoroughly in the art before that it’s difficult to find new ground. Every time something remotely interesting or unusual happens to a comedian, they latch onto it for material. Every time they have a single original idea, they build their entire next Edinburgh show around exploring it, because there are so few of those left.

I’ve thought about this, and I’ve thought about what parts of life are left on the table, and I think jealousy is one of the few topics that’s relatively underrepresented in comedy. It’s one of the few things that has a much bigger presence in my life than its presence in the comedy shows I’ve seen. It’s got a lot of dramatic potential – some of the most dramatic, poignant, memorable things I’ve seen or experienced have come from humans’ tendency toward jealousy. And I don’t think the amount of time I’ve spent hearing comedians talk about it is proportionate to that. This is something that occurred to me a few months ago, and then, last week, I was listening to an entire show about jealousy and thinking it wasn’t relatable.

And it’s because of the nature of the jealous in that show, of course. It wasn’t just a show about Tik-Tok followers. Lou Wall talks about jealousy of her best friend’s money, her sexual experiences, her ability to charm people, her physical attractiveness. All things that I, while being a judgemental asshole, don’t think are worthy of getting jealous about.

But then I remembered that a few months ago, my roommate moved in and moved in a subletter who’s also from our team, and being around her so much fucking killed me. It killed me when she first moved to our city two years ago, because she’d been famous in our sport for years, in the same category as me, at times at the same competitions as me and always placing higher than I did, better than me all through the time I was on the varsity circuit and then two years after I quit competing she won a world medal. And she competed for this rival team that I hate, and then during COVID, when my team had started training again but I hadn’t gone back to it because I was much more cautious about COVID than most people were, she moved up to my city. And joined my team, and was hailed as a hero, and got to know my athletes while I wasn’t there, and then when I tried to go back then next year she’s just there, in my old position as co-running the practice with my best friend, has relationships with my athletes who are excited to see me because it’s been a long time but after the initial excitement it gets awkward because we don’t know each other anymore, while she’s just right in there teaching them stuff because she knows where they’re at with everything in the moment. And she’s much better at the sport than I am anyway, I’ve been coaching since I was barely more than a teenager myself but while I was stilting my own competitive career because I tried to do it while coaching, she was focusing entirely on competition and making the national team over and over again and winning world medals and shit, so what on Earth could I have to teach my athletes compared to her? Pre-COVID I was so proud when athletes on my team qualified for Team Canada and went off on international trips the way I never did at their age, but now, why would they want my help preparing for international competition when I’ve never done it but someone else in the room has?

Someone else who does happen to be better than me in every other way as well. When she moved into my house I got self-conscious about how she filled up the bathroom with all the stuff that women are supposed to use (makeup and skin things and hair things and stuff), that my mother tried to teach me to do and that everyone wanted me to do and I’m just not that type of person, but she is, and she can connect with the female athletes about it, in addition to being much better than me at the one thing that’s suppose to make up for that. Like, it’s supposed to be fine that I’m not a proper girl like that my mother wanted, because at least I could do sports and stuff instead, but now there’s someone who’s doing all of it better. And I don’t want to be feminine by any means, but I quickly get self-conscious about how I look when I’m around people who do it well.

And I so wanted her to be an asshole, I’d seen her lots at tournaments before she moved up here but I’d only spoken to her very briefly, so I don’t know what she was like as a person. At first I entirely avoided her at practice, because if I stayed on the other side of the room I could avoid the “What’s the point of me?” thoughts. But eventually I did get to know her a bit, and of course she’s incredibly kind and respectful, when she moved in she also filled our living room with cool feminist books, she’s been helpful and responsible and likeable. Of course.

I thought about all of this, and then I thought – where the fuck do I get off judging Lou Wall for being upset about her friend’s Tik-Tok followers? Absolutely nothing I base my life around is objectively more valuable than Tik-Tok. Winning at a sport does not make someone better than anyone else any more than having social media followers does. But I spent part of the show thinking it’s silly because it’s about something that would only happen to really shallow people and is not otherwise relatable.

And that’s definitely gendered. Lou Wall talks about how they know there’s a misogyny underlying their jealousy, they don’t get jealous of men, it’s “the girls and gays and theys” that get jealous like this of each other. And it pits women together and that’s bad. And maybe that’s true, I think she’s describing parts of life that are, stereotypically and demographically, more likely to be cared about by, and therefore spark jealousy in, girls and gays and theys. And it’s possible that its associations with femininity are why I instinctively dismissed it, even though my stuff is not any more significant.

Because jealousy is definitely not just a female thing! I’ve just described my one situation, but most of the jealousy I’ve seen in my life has been among men and teenage boys. Just because most athletes in the sport are male, and jealousy happens constantly among teammates as well as rivals from opposing teams, it drives the entire experience. Over and over and over as a coach, I’ve watched the same story play out: athlete who’s been on the team less time starts getting better than a more established athlete, newer athlete becomes desperate to beat the older athlete and the older athlete gets territorial and upset about someone catching them, a dramatic mess ensues. At the very best, they develop a rivalry that makes them good training partners, pushing themselves to beat each other and in the process they both get better. In most cases, that happens only up to a point, until the dial gets turned up high enough so they become bad training partners for each other because there’s too high a risk that they’ll injure each other. Not to mention all the drama that happens out of the room. Not to mention the effects on their mental game, the way they get in each other’s heads and mess it up and then both perform less well in competitions because they’re more focused on outdoing their teammate than beating their actual opponents. And that’s if they’re lucky enough to be in different categories – if they come up against each other in a tournament, then the drama of which one won and which one lost will fuel weeks or months of vicious fighting in the training room and we have to separate them.

And everything fuels it, really. One qualifies for a team and the other doesn’t. One beats someone from another team and the other doesn’t. One places higher on the same day. And God forbid anything off the mat happens – one time two guys on the team were already in that situation and then one slept with the other’s girlfriend, and we had to implement a rule that they weren’t allowed to train together without a coach within a few feet, ready to stop the action if either of them tried to hurt the other.

A huge part of my job as a coach is just that: trying to keep harmony in the room so it’s the best training environment, and that job mostly consists of managing jealousy. Over and over, with different combinations of people in different years. With almost every athlete, at some point. I was thinking a while ago of what major things cause deep emotional issues and drama in real life, but haven’t already been done to death in comedy, just because it feels like all the ground’s been covered. And I thought, I’m pretty sure most of life works the way this sport works. Sure most people don’t do the same thing I do, but everyone does something, and everyone spends their time tracking who’s better than they are at their thing, and getting upset when other people pull ahead. I think jealousy is a huge part of the human experience that hasn’t been mined quite as relentlessly as other experiences in most comedy shows. So there, if a comedian wanted to find something new, someone should do a show about jealousy.

I thought this, and I was still thought Lou Wall’s topic was insufficiently relatable because it’s about some shit that doesn’t matter. And that will be some kind of gendered conditioning, thinking it’s legitimate for people’s lives to turn on jealousy about a sport but not about their stuff. Once I made myself stop being judgemental about that, the show got more enjoyable to hear.

Anyway, the vast majority of this post has not been about Lou Wall’s actual show, it’s just been explaining some thoughts that listening to the show dragged up. See, this is why I couldn’t be an actual comedy reviewer. Or even a person on any of the proper social media sites, trying to use this blog for clout or followers. If I did that, I’d have to implement some quality control here, and actually stay on topic. But I don’t want to do that. I want to write whatever thoughts come into my mind and justify it by saying no one’s paid me for it and no one has to read it so I’ll do personal tangents that are only of interest to me if I want to. And then, when anyone does bother to put effort into curating their online presence and making something of sufficient quality for lots of people to follow it, I think they’re shallow and pointless for caring about that.

Anyway. Anyway. It was a really good show. Rather exhausting to listen to, with the pace they set. But funny, once I let myself relax about being judgemental and just laugh at the jokes. There were some really funny stories. I got a little lost near the end, it got more involved and increasingly confusing. I think I liked the funny stories better than the more involved stuff. But to be fair, I missed some visual stuff and I think it works less well without that. There were entertaining songs. It was really creepy but it was meant to be really creepy, they’re not just an idiot who doesn’t understand creepiness. It’s an unlikeable character telling funny stories.

It ends slightly predictably, I thought (spoiler alert, I guess, spoiler alert always for everything on this blog). With a conversation with the object of jealousy and it turns out she also felt jealousy. And I thought of when I sat down with my temporary roommate a few months ago and admitted to her that I was self-conscious of having my far inferior medals on my wall now that she lived there and had a fucking world medal, and she told me there were only a couple of people in her category when she won that world medal, she feels like an imposter with everyone calling her a champion for it, and when I’m in the training room she feels envious of how the athletes have known me longer than her and I can connect with some of them so easily. I remember having that conversation and thinking, if this were a TV episode and it ended with this conversation, I’d call it overly predictable, that anyone could have guessed that oh, it turns out she feels the same way. But I guess when I just had it happen in real life, I can’t exactly call it too cliché for an ending to a comedy show.

It’s a good show that has funny stories and funny songs and is best enjoyed by paying very close attention to what they’re doing but not thinking your way into being judgemental about it. It's a ridiculous pace and a ridiculous amount of material and a level of chaos in the writing/performing that fits the chaos of the topic, and I always like a show where even the format is on theme. Social media is bad for us, but to be fair, so is everything else.

0 notes