#color coordination saved my sanity | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anangelicday-mrwolf · 3 years

Text

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 62 – After the Battle

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The cadence from the machine was as steady as it could be.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Frankenstein’s heart was just as steady, its beat placid like the surface of water.

In reality, at least from Frankenstein’s standing point, for each pulse his blood was being drained away by a droplet.

He felt as if the entire room, beyond the spot he was marking with his legs, was already flooded with the red from his body.

Which he should have expected since his entrance to Lunark’s room.

The day after the destructive arrival of his body occupied by the Dark Spear to Lukedonia, Lunark was hospitalized in the Lukedonian ward, having yet to wake up.

It had been merely hours since the battle was officially closed, so it was too soon to see her waking up.

Frankenstein knew that; after all, she was against none other than the Dark Spear that had unchained itself from his command.

The Dark Spear that had absorbed Crombel and pieces of Crombel’s Blood Stone.

No one would deny that it was a life-threatening opponent, even for Lunark.

Not to mention she suffered a wound from Dark Spear, deliberately meant to kill her.

A wound that sent Frankenstein’s sanity to the nether world when he finally regained his senses.

A wound that was more critical than it should have been, for Lunark did not care about anything other than getting Frankenstein back, paying no attention to her own survival.

Lunark may be top-tiered among the current werewolf warriors, but it is not time yet for her to wake up.

Frankenstein knew and understood and accepted it in his head.

However, his heart refused to comply.

The cardiac monitor that was linked to her was signaling how she was at least stabilized, but Frankenstein felt he would die unless she provides a hint herself that she will be fine.

Which is why he could not leave her, when she was not the only patient in the chamber.

He had been receiving multiple suggestions and offers for breaks, if not treatment, from the hospital’s doctors and medical staff, Central Knights, and even few of the heads of clans.

And of course, he would not heed them at all.

Or he would answer he will not be staying long, to go ahead and stay transfixed as soon as he was left alone.

‘Looks like the story about me has spread to all corners of Lukedonia.’

Thought Frankenstein as he reckoned the next visitor.

“I anticipated you to be here. I am glad I did not waste my time walking into your own room.”

“...Please forgive me. I was supposed to keep better vigilance upon myself. The damage I caused upon your land is of no small...”

Though what happened was as far as it could be from his intention, knowing that he had caused lot of trouble – in fact, heaps of trouble – Frankenstein willingly bowed to Lascrea.

In the meantime, he was plotting whatever excuse he could yield to thwart yet another trial to send him to bed.

Alas, this time he was told incorrect.

“This is for you.”

Frankenstein blinked in puzzlement upon locking his eyes on the phone Lascrea handed.

‘Oh. Right. Tao said he prepared a phone and a couple applications for her in extension of the QuadraNet project.’

He was questioning the timing of Lascrea’s presentation of her phone when something caught his eyes.

The screen was not the sort he identified, but the interface told him it was an application with a vocal chat activated, ongoing.

And there is only one soul that is connected to Lascrea’s phone.

That moment Frankenstein could feel his throat strangling itself.

However, he knew who was waiting on the other side of the phone; not even the end of the world can serve as a reason for him to turn it down.

Thus he took Lascrea’s phone, his heart heavy like never before in the most recent times.

“...Yes, master?”

<Frankenstein. You do not sound well.>

“...Forgive me, master.”

Frankenstein’s eardrums shriveled.

He could list in his mind more than a handful of things he should be begging forgiveness for, but for some reason he could not name any of them.

Raizel changed the topic, his previous question obviously meant to be rhetoric.

Frankenstein could tell Raizel was being gracious to him on the smallest scale he could afford.

He may have put the cause behind Lunark’s blackout as an aftermath from her battle, but he would know the truth.

After all, Lascrea was one of the witnesses for Lunark’s wound, and she would have had enough knowledge to testify for Raizel how she ended up suffering the wound.

He would know that what forced her into blackout is not the aftermath of the battle; it is the one who was engaged in the battle.

<...I’m fine, sir. Lukedonia boasts medical skills good enough to...>

And he knew how Frankenstein’s vessels and heart were being pulled apart every second with guilt.

He knew how Frankenstein’s nightmare came true – his hand lost the reins he had placed upon Dark Spear, waiting for a chance to prevail from within.

He knew because of which he is feeling for himself hatred like never before.

Frankenstein could still remember the moment when the dam finally started to break down. And when he woke up once it was all over.

Upon his return from the werewolf realm – rather, not long after he had finally recharged himself with wolfsbane tonic, the substance that should have kept him insomniac, he felt how a venom called sleep yanked his head with an invisible lasso towards the thick, unbreakable swamp of slumber.

He panicked, a rare occasion for him, realizing something had gone horribly wrong, but he was already swept away by the rapid current of sleep.

Without any rope or boat to save him, he fell deeper and deeper into sleep.

After who-knows-for-how-long, he was beckoned by a thin sensation from somewhere beyond his conscious as if something had shattered.

Now that he had thought about it, he was surely fast asleep back then, but he could swear he felt something shatter.

Promptly, his eyelids shot open as if under electrocution, exactly in the manner of a person miraculously dragged back by the AED from the brink of embarking on Charon’s boat.

Furiously panting from the bottommost of his lungs, he waved his head in circumspection of his surroundings.

He knew all too well what he would unleash once he is asleep, and as he feared his perimeter was nothing short from the definition of cataclysm.

And he needed not to check how he was doing.

He noticed how the soil and dirt he was thrown upon was of Lukedonian origin, and he wondered how he ended up here until his face grew cold, for he got aware a tad late of an unfamiliar weight upon his body.

He could not see the face of the one lying upside down upon his torso, but he could make out a flock of hair scattered about where his hugger’s head should be.

And he did not need to try at all to recognize the color, length, and curves of the hair.

Immediately his heart froze up, turned much colder than his face.

Soon enough he discovered a black hole rooted deep into her back, partially hidden by her hair, which filled him from head to toes with ice.

He could not recall what befell right after.

He ripped her off his body and ran with no direction or sense to coordinate him, to shriek dozen times and plead as twice as much, to ultimately reach here.

“...No. She wouldn’t.”

Frankenstein’s throat grew strained at Raizel’s remark.

Just as he said, Frankenstein felt highly inclined to wrench off his own head if he could.

He wanted to drive his nails into his chest to pry out his heart.

He could not remember the last time when his heart was jeopardized every minute by miserable, violent impulse concerning what did not happen to be Raizel.

He could not stop thinking that he might make his impulse come to reality if Lunark is to never again open her eyes.

Lascrea tightened her lips, having never seen such a slick, flawless man speechless for once.

That was when she was reminded that she did not have much history with Lunark.

She did have a light clash against her and the 3rd Elder, on the day she visited Raizel to fill his life with the half of her Ragnarok.

After that, she ran into Lunark when she made her way to the werewolf realm with Kei and Rosaria, when Lunark brought Frankenstein, Muzaka, and Raizel, for them to ultimately reap away Maduke’s life.

Apart from those occasions, she could not even get to hear Lunark’s name.

So Lascrea was clueless why Frankenstein would have such a conversation with Raizel with Lunark unconscious before him.

After all, she was looking at none other than Frankenstein, which made it more challenging for her to determine the exact relation that he and Lunark would share.

With everything pushed to the side, however, she equally prayed that this werewolf warrior who was making THE Frankenstein spill out his guilt to open her eyes.

Partially because she had something she had to check with Lunark.

And she could see she was not the only one.

“...Of course. I believe we have a discussion ahead of us.”

That was when Frankenstein and Lascrea sharpened their eyes with pregnant glare.

But the latter soon redirected the spotlight to something more important than the business they had with Lunark.

“Have no concern, Frankenstein. Cadis Etrama di Raizel. I shall help our guest and savior to rise again with body as good as new, even if it takes all of Lukedonia’s art in medicine.”

<...My gratitude, Lascrea.>

Lascrea’s phone chimed with a brief word of appreciation.

Poised were Raizel’s words, but Lascrea could detect softness as light but certain as moonlight, and her cheeks flushed like ripe tomatoes for a second.

Thankfully for her, Frankenstein was too caught in his own complicated mind to notice her blush and failed to print it in his head with his eyes.

He thereby unintentionally kept the noble lord’s dignity safe and asked, “Speaking of which, how is everything going at Korea?”

(next chapter)

Now it’s time to wrap up things that follow the battle one by one, including the relationship between Frankenstein and Lunark. Also, I’ll be highlighting all the events that have yet to be explored in this fic (especially the events mentioned in the early chapters). Which means even though the highlight of this fic is over, I still have lots of work to do. Nevertheless, I shall do my best! :D

4 notes · View notes

remmushound · 4 years

Text

My spooky gift exchange to @nightneko!!

Content warning: Blood, decapitation, character death, trauma

Leonardo was running. He was running but it wasn’t enough. The rain pounded all around him like the song of his own demise, the stone under his feet growing slick and the purchase hard to find, but that didn’t matter. As he long he kept going forward, that didn’t matter. The momentum was needed, and he couldn’t slow. Not for a second. The moment he slowed, he knew he would get caught.

It had all started out so innocently. He had been practicing his portals after a bout of insomnia seized him in the night like the claws of a great raptor in flight, and he had to do something to pass the time. Sleep didn’t come after an hour, or two, or three. On the fourth hour came resentful training up on the rooftops of his city, so beautiful and bright when compared to the suffocating fog and black sky of this doppelgänger world He found himself in.

Time after time, he had traced a circle in the air and step into it. Time after time he thought of the places he wanted to go— from the Bronx to Brooklynn to Queens... to Tony’s Pepperoni’s and Murakami’s Place; the blind salesman would always leave out leftovers for the Yoru ni kuru hito, the ones who came in the night, who he couldn’t see but knew where there and would make sure he got home safely. Then Leo had gotten reckless. He started testing his speed. How fast he could teleport. How fast he could think of new places to go. Testing the limits of his weapon, fueled by a cocky sense of invincibility that most teenagers had. Hueso had warned him of such things as portal jackings and the horrors they could hold for the one attacked. How, the more times you teleported, the stronger the signal you sent out, like a beacon to your coordinates. How it made it so easy for them to find you.

When Leo had finally decided to go home, he had such a clear image of the lair in his mind. Bright and colorful, the walls covered by Mikey’s increasingly impressive graffiti, some of the older examples drawn over by Donatello’s equations whenever he’d have a breakthrough without paper handy. Numbers and symbols traced over colorful pictures of old, worn from the years but still carrying so many memories in the peeling paint. Leonardo imagined everything down to the last detail; every last crack left by Raphael by accident or on purpose. The groove worn into splinters chair by years of repeated use. The kitchen filled with leftover pizza, the snore of three sleeping turtles and an old rat echoing down the halls. But there was none of that when he stepped through the rift and landed on the other side.

Instead of the warm invitation he had expected, the air was cold and lifeless. The walls were gray and the floor stone, with no mat or rug to block the barrier of frigid ground. Instead of comforting light, there was dim gray, and his breath came out in heavy plumes of fog. There was no gentle snores— no sound at all, in fact, apart from the distant sounds of running water. The air didn’t smell of breakfast, but of rot and decay. It smelled like death.

“Wha... guys?”

His voice echoed in a haunted melody that returned to him from all directions.

“This is a surprise.”

Leonardo jumped and spun around to face the figure approaching him, not quite at tall as Leonardo, but regardless was walking in such a way that made him feel small. Hands folded behind his back, a peculiarly designed white lab coat draped over his bulked form, and a mouth frowning. A mutant. A turtle. With a purple bandana.

“Who are you...?” Leonardo had asked once his body allowed him too. The other was so familiar to him, yet somehow... monstrous. Maybe in the way he didn’t smile— nothing like when the Donatello back home rarely ever offered the gesture. When Donnie did that, it was just Donnie being Donnie. But this frown seemed almost sinister, somehow.

The other mutant only hummed. On his three-fingered hands were red gloves— no, they were white. They must have been, at least, under the layer of glowing crimson that coated them top to bottom in a A viscous layer. It was then Leonardo noticed that the pattern on the lab coat wasn’t just a pattern— it wasn’t a pattern at all— it was blood.

When Leonardo’s eyes began to adjust to the dark of the sewer tunnel, more patterns and items came to his view. Strewn up on the walls and on showcase in dim, glass cases— in jars, fermenting in some kind of liquid, and on the floor and even some hanging from the ceiling. Body parts. Mutant body parts. Fur and scales and skin— organs and bones and... shells. Three of them. Hollow and empty of the lives stripped from within them, adorned with ribbons and weapons. The pelt of a mutant tiger laid on the floor, mouth opened in an eternal cry of agony. A rat— an old, mutant rat— was stuffed and positioned in such a pose it were as if he were alive; mediating in an eternal slumber. Leonardo had almost called out to him until he saw the stitches. The stiff and limp tail, the unmoving body. And that’s when Leo ran.

He splashed blindly through the waste-infused water, charging through the blackness parted only by the odd storm drain offering lamplight from above. Quite often he’d stopped to catch his breath and to try and listen through his heaving and the pound of rain from the surface. Every time he did stop, he was faced with the heart wrenching sound of the second set of foot steps getting closer. Closer. Closer.

The five minutes it took him to find the nearest manhole felt like five hours, and the time it took him to scale the ladder and escape through it felt like even longer. Longer for the blood-splattered mutant to catch up. The first thing he has done once he crawled out into a trash-strewn alley was to find the nearest fire escape— if he could just get away long enough to stop for a moment, long enough to think, maybe a plan could be found in the chaos. There was always an escape. There was always an escape. There was always...

Three buildings crossed and Leo looked back. Three building down he saw the sick, perverted Donatello standing there silhouetted in the light of the street, bō staff in hand. Grinning at him. Leonardo ran on.

Seven buildings crossed and he turned to look back. The monster was even closer now and Leonardo could make out the features more clearly. He could see the other turtles eyes. He didn’t know what to expect when he gazed into them. The red, glowing eyes of a monster, perhaps? Eyes void of any sanity or sense? Maybe! But no. They were just eyes. Just normal eyes. Bronze, gleaming with life. Leonardo ran on.

Ten buildings down. Thirteen. Fourteen. Leonardo couldn’t run anymore. His legs gave way and he crashed to the ground, yet still his pursuer kept on going. His pace did slow when he saw the other mutant collapsed there on the building, but he didn’t stop. Leonardo tried to crawl. If he could just get into the sewers again, or the streets, if he could just disappear!

It was too late.

“Wow.” The donatello—no, Leo couldn’t bare to think of him like that— the mutant stood over him with a partial smile. He wasn’t panting, hardly even breathing. It was like he wasn’t even alive, and with the appearance of him it was easy to believe. “Y’know, I would’ve expected you to put up some sort of fight. My Leo sure did.”

Fight— fight! Leonardo reached behind his shell. The Mutant clicked his tongue and laughed, shifting his body to show off the gleaming sword supported on his back.

“Probably shouldn’t have dropped this either; just, in hindsight, you know.”

“What— please—“ Leonardo couldn’t get full sentences out; breathing was far more important.

“I know, I know.” The mutant laughed and waved his hand, “but hey— it’s all in the name of science, huh? I’ve never worked with a Trachemys scripta elegans, so you're something entirely new to me!”

He pulled out a needle filled to the brim with hot pink fluid.

“And here’s something new to you!”

Leonardo crawled to the ledge and tried to escape over it, only to be met with a sharp kick to the middle of his carapace that pinned him to the stone.

“This is just a little something to make you sleep...”

“DONATELLO!”

The voice sliced through the night like a knife. A woman’s voice. The Mutant’s force on Leonardo’s shell lifted, and when Leonardo turned to look, the turtles back was turned to him, staring at a girl. A girl with ginger hair and a pale face speckled with brown freckles.

“April!” The abomination gave a grin.

April? This girl was April?

“Donnie this has to stop.”

Leonardo could escape now if he wanted to. Sure, his legs were still numbly sore, his chest still heaving, but there was some sort of energy returning to him. He couldn’t just leave April though...

“Come on April, you know I have to.” The Mutant walked toward April with gentle demeanor that betrayed the darkness inside him. “Sacrifices have to be made in the name of science!”

“How many is it going to take, Donnie?” Tears flowed freely through April’s eyes like water spickets. “Leo, Raph, Mikey, Splinter... am I next?”

“I would never hurt you, April.”

His sword— if Leo could just grab his sword he could save himself and the April! He could grab the sword and he could...

No. He could never go through with it. Not with that monster looking like it did. Not with him looking like Donnie. But if Leo could just chase him off...

“Splinter didn’t didn’t even fight back, did he?” April went on. “He didn’t even try to stop you!”

The mutant shrugged. “He could never hurt his son.”

“You’re a monster...”

Leonardo pushed himself slowly to his feet and crept forward. His hand out in front of him, ready to grab for his swords hilt, just praying this April kept the Mutant distracted long enough.

“I’m not.” The Mutant shook his head, “I’m a scientist.”

Leonardo bit his tongue in his focus with enough force to draw forth the metallic taste of blood. Just a little closer...

Then his wrist was seized when the other turtle spun around with lightning speed, gripping him tight and hoisting him up like a ragdoll. The Mutant fixed Leonardo with an amused stare. “And I’m also a ninja.”

Leonardo tried to struggle away. “Please— please just let me go!” He had no shame, he had nothing to lose but his life, “Just let me leave! I wanna get back to Donnie and Raph and Mikey!” His cheeks were stained hot with tears, and his chest felt as if it were being constricted by a python. “I WANT MY DAAAAD!”

The Mutant stopped. Leonardo gave a soft whimper as he was dropped violently and landed with a hard THUMP. He wiped his eyes to try getting a better read of the other turtle. To look in his eyes and try to decipher what thoughts were hidden behind the dark pools.

Then the Mutant laughed. The turtle dressed in purple laughed. A laugh that made his eyes close and called forth a few snorts between breaths. It was wrong— it was all wrong. A laugh should be gentle and lighthearted, drawn forth by a genuine joy. A noise meant to make your heart flutter a bit, especially when it was you who called that heavenly sound to release. But not this noise. This noise was a sinister one, a cold pleasure that made the surrounding air drop at least a few degrees. A monster like that didn’t deserve to laugh.

“You should see the look on your face!” He howled the evil tune of Leonardo’s demise. Then, all at once, the laughter stopped.

Leonardo’s ears rang. Though it took his mind several moments to process what had just happened, his body registered everything at once. A warm wetness all over him and the rooftop around him. The sound of a blade had come first of course— unmistakable to the swordsman— flashing through the air and slicing flesh. Slicing bone. And it was that which expelled the red fluid off in all directions. Then there was a thump. One loud, powerful thump that set Leonardo’s heart to continue the pattern and beat in his chest far too fast, far too hard. Surely it would jump out at any moment and leave him there, bleeding out with a gaping hole in his chest.

Then sound exploded back into his ears. The taste of iron flooded his senses, drowning out everything else. He touched his hand to his face and when he withdrew it, green had turned to an oozing red. The teenage girl stood there behind the headless corpse, holding Leonardo’s sword in shaking hands, just as bloody as Leonardo was. Her bosom heaved. Her breaths came out in soft whimpers, and her arms soon gave way and let the sword clammed to the ground. In the next moment she was gone, down the fire escape and leaving Leo there with the body.

He didn’t know how long he sat there waiting for his legs to regain strength, but by the time he was able to move, the blood had already begun to dry on his skin and flake off in a brownish powder. He picked up his sword and his numb arm guided the blade to make a portal. He gave a chuckle. Almost perfect.

He just about stepped through it before he remembered he was only holding one sword. He turned back to the dead mutant, a slight blood still oozing from the severed neck. Pillaging it’s body like a vulture made Leonardo sick, and he had to make a dash for the ledge of the building to hurl over it. He had his sword though. He could go... home?

Home. Warm and bright. By now it would be filled with the bustle of his family getting ready for the day. The whistle of Splinter’s morning tea... Mikey making breakfast. The sound and scent of sizzling bacon became so alluring it was almost real— and then it was. When Leonardo opened his eyes after stepping through the portal, Splinter sat at the head of the table, sipping his tea as he clasped it between two paws. Raphael and Donatello were bickering about something or other, and it was like the sweetest music. Leonardo looked down at himself and he was as clean as he was when it left— somehow the blood had left him, even though he swore he could still feel it slipping across him. A nightmarish sensation. Mikey, bright-eyed and yet to reapply his shell paint, turned to Leo with a smile and offered a plate of eggs and bacon and toast.

“Hi Leo!” He grinned. “You’re late for breakfast, mister! Here— eat.”

Leonardo smiled and almost broke into a sob as he accepted the plate. “Thank you, hermano...”

His eyes flashed to Donatello. The words that fell from the softshells lips were silent upon Leonardo’s ringing ears. When he blinked, all he saw was the blade slicing down— slicing him.

Suddenly, Leonardo wasn’t so hungry.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #donatello #donnie #leo #leonardo #tmnt au #tmnt spooky gift exchange

48 notes · View notes

believerindaydreams · 3 years

Text

Tonight on the Carla and Boone show: everything is minecraft, spoilers and pain

Okay, so we left our heroes...uh, running away from the monster. Yeah. Fortunately Carla was carrying some goodies. So the two power armor companions managed to patch Boone together until they got west to the Children of Atom site, where they A. Ordered someone shot for a loyalty test and B. refused to let in our heroes until they did a Holy Quest.

Boone is still irradiated, poisoned and generally falling apart so they play nice in hopes that a doctor will show up. When they get to the spring, he's thirsty and drinks from it.

From Carla's POV, the result is that someone who is obviously a cult member in disguise makes them chase after her, slips away while they're dealing with a ghoul attack, and then her husband wanders out of a shack babbling about finding a password for a holy relic on a periodic table. Which she didn't know he even knew what that was, but it's obviously a shrine and obviously a set up, like the legendary knife he says will be stronger if he takes his armor off. She discourages that, they go back and are received into Nucleus.

Boone gets patched up by a doctor only to immediately start having visions when they meet the High Confessor. (I don't know if it was the sub or my game glitching out or rad poisoning but it was loopier than healing powder.) A Brother mistakes him for a vision of Atom and cheers up a lot. An ex-trapper notices this and gives Carla some booze for saving his friend's life by stopping him from fasting to death in religious ecstasy. She downs the booze immediately.

They break into the command center, bypass some security lasers and loot some junk, only to run into some military grade robots. Her cheerful pop drink power armor has been wrecked by the Mirelurk queen from earlier, she's out of stimpaks and bleeding out...

and then Boone breaks out of his confused stupor and blasts the robot apart in two hits. Fortunately even in that state he couldn't resist grabbing .308 ammo on sight. (It helped that he'd picked up the Scrounger perk, sort of by mistake.)

He stimpaked her, they found a bed and passed out while the friendly noir robot kept watch. Good times.

Next day they found the terminal that the nice Synths at Acadia had asked them to fund. Nick had a try and went catatonic. Boone went in for reasons I can only assume have something to do with the Pip-Boy bound to his flesh.

(...has anyone bothered playing the puzzle straight since the mod allowing you to skip it? I did it honestly without looking it up but omg never again.)

...so it's Tron. He knows about Tron because Carla watched it once in Vault 21 and described it to him. He's been in Tranquility Lane but had no idea what she was talking about until getting dumped in a brightly colored block world where the only thing you can do is move blocks to solve abstruse puzzles.

It cost two days, all the Vim they found, and a lot of his sanity in completely different ways than everything else that had been fucking with them lately. Cos it's like, puzzle one or two is easy and so on, but it's a lot of very repetitious trotting back and forth with blocks to solve puzzles, your head hurts, and you question why you're doing this and what the point is and whether you wouldn't, actually, be better served by giving up altogether- except that poor Boone was still looking at power armor-Nick IN the simulation and was determined to do it all in one go to rescue everyone's fave Synth detective. It would have gone quicker if he was smart enough to describe what was going on to Carla, but he couldn't verbalize it. Womp.

...

(I had to use a companion whistle mod at the end to get Nick or he would still be trapped in cyberspace. Carla wasn't.)

Anyway, though, eventually they got out and got coordinates to some loot places, so they went to the Vim factory and wrecked some Super Mutants while Nick mused about his relationship to DiMA. He was just getting to the point of feeling positive about this when they found out about DiMA murdering the leader of Far Harbor to replace her with a Synth.

Carla said "to hell with this" and dragged them off to Dalton Farm for some beach R and R. I think they all need it.

#fallout 4 #sole survivor #the carla and boone show #playthrough

3 notes · View notes

sunshinesukuna · 5 years

Text

see you again | peter parker x reader

summary: your friendly neighborhood spiderman turns out who you least expect it to be.

tw: mentions of a school shooting, violence

“I thought I’d see you up here again,” a voice said below you. He came again. Queens’s friendly neighborhood Spiderman. He stalked up to where you were sitting from the side of the building. The faint smell of cologne wafted into your nose.

The cologne also smelt like that of your boyfriend’s, Peter Parker. Nah, they're using the same brand or something, (Y/N). No biggie.

“What school do you go to anyways?” Spiderman settled down on the building’s edge next to you.

“Why do you want to know?” you asked. Spiderman shrugged. He fiddled with one of the gadgets on his suit. Ever since you met him for the first time, there was always something that reminded you of someone…

But you could never put your finger on it. It was always on the tip of your tongue, but alas, the answer wouldn’t come through.

“Well, if we go to the same school, we can, I don’t know… coordinate attacks, so it’ll be easier?” he said.

“Good idea. I go to MSST. Midtown School of Science and Technology.”

“No way…” Spiderman muttered.

“Where do you go to?”

“MSST too…” You sucked in a gust of air. “We can coordinate attacks when we figure out each other’s real names.” You squatted on the edge of the building.

You looked at the teenage superhero. “While you’re figuring out who I am, I gotta go. My boyfriend’s coming over to make up for…” You counted on your fingers, recalling the events. “Four missed dates.”

“Sound’s like a shitty boyfriend,” he said. Something in the tone of his voice sounded like he spoke from personal experience.

“Yeah, but he’s always so sincere in everything. If he’s missed 4 dates, there’s a legitimate reason behind it all. I’m not that dumb.”

"Oh.”

“See you ‘round, Spiderman.”

“Adios, Supernova.”

You leaped off the edge of the building and propelled yourself to an empty parking lot behind your house. After freshening up a bit, you turned on a movie. All you had to do was wait and see if your boyfriend would show up or not.

A few minutes later, you felt your phone ringing on your lap. Peter’s familiar face was on it, accompanied by The Imperial March as his ringtone. The phone shook in your hand. If you answered it, you knew that the same, sad, lies would meet you again.. Then again, answering the phone meant you could hear your boyfriend’s voice again.

“Hey babe,” he called from the other line. You sighed.

“Let me guess. You’re not going to be able to come because May asked you to do something again?”

“Something along that line… Look, baby, I’m really sorry, I-I wish that I could really–”

“Save it, Parker. It’s alright. I still see you at school though. it’s completely fine.”

“Your voice makes it sound like it’s not.”

“I’m serious Peter. If there’s–” you choked back the lump in your throat “–if there’s anything that comes up that’s more important than our date." Your voice faltered. "Then you go do it.” You sniffled. The tears were free-falling now.

“Just… go,” you finally said. And with that, you hung up.

Seeing Peter again was like walking on eggshells around him. He didn’t make any talk about last night’s phone call and continued life as if nothing had happened.

The question overtook you later at lunch. The possibility of it was almost null, but to make sure, you decided to ask Peter later. Later at lunch, you talked and chatted with the others as usual. Once you were sure that MJ and Ned were too caught up in their debate, you scooted closer to Peter.

“Can we talk later?” you whispered into his ear. Peter nodded. He continued the conversation as if your passing voice had been a whisper on the wind.

Peter met you outside under the bleachers. It was where you first met, and where both of you went for some sanity. If he isn’t doing it, then he has no reason to be nervous, right?

“Are you cheating, Peter?” you asked. Peter, caught off-guard, waved his hands in denial.

“What- no! Why would you think I would be cheating on you! You’re the sweetest, kindest, awesome-est, the most amazing girl I’ve ever met!” Peter ran his hands through his hair. You sighed. This boy was only confirming your suspicions even further.

“How busy do you think I am Peter? I’m juggling student council meetings, mathletes, orchestra, not to mention…”. Saving Queens from random baddies, you almost said. But you knew that you weren’t ready to tell Peter yet.

“I’m just busy… is all.”

“Peter, if you don’t have time to commit… then I understand, but–” you sighed “–I can’t do this anymore, please.”

“Wait! (Y/N)!” Peter reached out for your hand. You tried to pull back but Peter was unrelenting.

“Peter, let go!” you said.

“You have to listen to me! It’s not what you think!” Peter’s relentless pleading broke your heart bit by bit. But it was for the best. You couldn’t afford to be a burden to anyone but yourself.

A small can of black paint stood right by your foot. Your free hand moved by itself, picking up the can and flinging it at Peter. You shielded yourself with your jacket as the pain took Peter in the arm. Luckily, there wasn’t much paint left.

Utilizing the diversion, you took off.

You went home feeling like someone had punched your gut and had taken all your inner organs. Bored, you turned on the news.

BREAKING: GUNMAN ATTACKS ELEMENTARY SCHOOL IN QUEENS

Not having any other choice, you donned the super suit and levitated as fast as you could to the school. Police had surrounded the area of the school, their own guns cocked out. Frightened children waited outside, waiting for their peers to come out.

You landed on a police car nearby. The police noticed you, with shouts of “Supernova!” and various thanks.

“What’ve we got here?” you asked.

“Gunman’s still inside. We’ve got people trying to detain him, but we haven’t got word from them yet,” one of them answered back. He slapped his walkie talkie in frustration. You nodded before carefully stalking in.

You levitated yourself across the halls. No room went unchecked, lest there be anyone left behind. A bang caught your attention.

“On your left!” a familiar voice said. It couldn’t be.

“Sorry bro, it’s bulletproof. Oh hey! Super-!” The gunman caught him by the head in the back. Taking your chance, you tackled the gunman. Peter had kicked away his weapon, making things all the easier. You jammed your finger inside his ear and aimed a wave at his stirrup.

He fell down unconscious. Spiderman handed you some handcuffs he nicked from the police to tie him up with. He flashed an “OK” sign to a policeman watching from the window.

“Meet you at the same place, right now?” Spiderman asked. He must be talking about the apartment building from last night.

“Race you there!” you called back. At least Spiderman was more attentive than your boyfriend. You took off.

Spiderman was already waiting for you when you got there. He was scratching something on his arms and hands. A splotch of black paint stained his arms. The pattern was almost the same as the one you had splashed on Peter this afternoon.

“What’s that on your hand?” you asked. Spiderman looked away.

“It’s nothing, I just spilled paint on myself earlier today,” he said.

“Wait…” You grasped his hand to see the back of it. The same smear of paint you had splattered on Peter’s hand earlier was there. Everything was the same. Patches of black colored his hands in messy formations.

“Peter? Is it you, Peter Parker? You’re Spiderman?” Spiderman’s hands gripped your shoulders. He took several ragged breaths.

Without knowing, your hands made their way to the edge of the mask. You looked at Spiderman for permission. He gave two small nods.

Your hand grazed the soft material of his mask. His pulse was thrumming as fast as a race horse's under your touch. The mask came undone.

Peter Parker’s hazel eyes met your own.

You could do nothing but breathe a sigh that was somewhere between relief, longing, and giddiness.

“Why. Didn’t. You. Tell. Me. You. Were. Out. Here. Saving. Queens. Without. Me.” You alternated between talking and punching Peter’s chest. Peter laughed all between your punching.

“You could at least have told the truth to make up for all those missed dates, Peter!” You nudged his arm. Scooting away from him, you pouted in silence. Peter slung an arm over your shoulder.

“So are you gonna take me back or not?”

“I hate you, Peter Parker.”

“Love you too, hun.”

#spiderman #peter parker #peter parker imagines #spiderman imagines #spiderman oneshot #spiderman x reader #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x reader

90 notes · View notes

lepussolum · 4 years

Text

@zettaflarc (ft. norted!axel)— starter.

𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚘𝚗 as the indefinitely setting sun bled across the heavens. Towering mountains were cast in imposing silhouettes to contrast the gently drifting clouds overhead. The juxtaposition certainly suited the mood of Twilight Town as a world on the border of LIGHT and DARKNESS. Perhaps that was what drew the ominous figure atop the clock tower in the Station Plaza. Thoughts troubled with conflicting — Emotion? No, not for one lacking a heart such as him. Yet a nagging, gnawing sensation clawed within that hollow chest.

Just...what is this?

A subtle frown settled upon otherwise composed features, slender brows furrowed in quiet contemplation. Despite inner turmoil, the Luna Diviner of Organization XIII remained conscious enough to quickly tame his expression ⦓ out of habit or paranoia, he could not say ⦔. Behind those chilling, AQUA hues thorough introspection plagued his mind. The shift had been gradual, almost imperceptible under the demands of his position as adjutant and mission coordinator. An inkling of curiosity, a touch of humor — the barest hint of reluctance. At first Saix had presumed such stirrings were attributed to mere MEMORIES; lingering traces of the past. All a Nobody retained from their previous life was the body and a few prominent memories. The latter aided in feigning emotion for deception and manipulation. Yet as of late the line between facade and honest sentiment became blurred.

With a sigh more so akin to a frustrated hiss, the Diviner settled on the narrow railing of the clock tower. Lithe legs dangled precariously over the edge without care, practiced balance to keep him steadily perched. His seclusion to this particular spot only further emphasized the metamorphosis, a NOSTALGIA of sorts. A number of years had passed since Saix last found himself seated upon the weathered stone, warmed by dying rays. Not since his early days within the Organization had he gazed upon this familiar sunset from such a height. The discovery had been a small treat ━ a secret getaway to retreat to after a grueling mission ━ one for both of them. Now, however, he sat atop the tower ALONE with only his pestering thoughts for company.

Logically, Saix knew he should not be capable of even the most base emotions. A Nobody was nothing more than a husk, a discarded shell with heart torn from within. And, up until recently, this had remained a defining TRUTH to his being. Not a scrap of happiness or fear, just a hollow emptiness to gradually devour his sanity. When had this changed to turn his world upside down? A gloved hand was brought to fair lips as he pondered, gaze shifting down to the cobblestone several stories below. The gentle wind carried the fading cacophony of youth nearby. Upon the ground a small group of children tossed a frisbee about, cheering at each successful catch or laughing at a pitiful miss.

Yes...it was when they arrived.

Vividly, Saix could recall the day the Organization had gained its precious thirteenth member, and the fourteenth followed not long after. As keyblade wielders, they became imperative to the main objective of bringing about Kingdom Hearts. At first, he had merely viewed Roxas as a means to an end, and Xion as little more than a puppet ━ only a shadow of potential. Yet their presence appeared to have a most peculiar effect upon their fellow members, and Saix found himself unwillingly caught up in the sway as well. Perhaps this was the true power of the KEYBLADE ━ that even for one without a heart, a light could still dwell within. That spark, however faint, seemed to bleed into even the darkest recess to set a once barren domain aflame.

And beneath that prickly exterior, Saix had always been a MOTH so easily drawn in.

Within those two young keyblade wielders, he could see another child. Wild crimson locks and emerald eyes glinting with DETERMINATION. Untamed and impossible to deter, it was a face that illustrated the few memories to which he so desperately clung to from life before the Organization. Just as he was, the two were reckless ━ constantly at the ready to charge into battle without thought. Their behavior demanded supervision, which Saix bitterly fulfilled at first. But, given time, a certain kinship had developed, a faint need to PROTECT the two naive Nobodies. The more time spent at Roxas and Xion’s sides, the more memories from his youth would be brought to light. With each recollection, the longing for a normal life would only grow more desperate. Out of an almost selfish desire to cling to those faded memories, he would linger by the two as a means to fill that hollowness, however brief. Distant dreams of sea salt ice cream and fantastical adventures through a mysterious castle seemed REAL once more beside them.

Those verdant hues...now he could nearly recall them to perfection ━ to a time before they had become tainted gold.

Today, that longing for the past devolved to more of an instinctive craving, a hunger for any scrap of normalcy. But those two lights were cast to the darkness, assigned to separate duties within the Organization. Despite the temptation, Saix refrained from arguing against their respective assignments. No doubt if the Superior saw even the whisper of EMOTION within him, he would be eliminated. Thus, he had no escape from this grim reality for the time being, which weighed upon his self-restraint. Behind that facade of impassivity he became undone as thoughts ran rampant through his mind.

And if I were to return to Radiant Garden ━ to my HOME...who then could stop me?

It was an idea which the Diviner had toyed with for some time. Nothing more than an idle daydream at first, he now found himself on the brink of making it a reality. Through various bits of intel, news had spread regarding the restoration of Radiant Garden. A world that had previously been devoured by DARKNESS, now purified with the light of the keyblade. Saix nearly thought to give thanks to the young Sora who saved his home world, though withheld given his current position. However, ever since this revelation had reached him, a desire to return home had blossomed as well. Try though he might, Saix had been able to crush the fragile wish, enabling it to take thorough root.

As if embedded in his very veins, the yearning puppeteered his body to stand upon that imposing tower ledge. Wind buffeted the hem of his cloak, gaze drifting shut against the gale. Hesitantly, Saix raised his hand, palm outstretched to the bloody horizon. In his mind’s eye he could see those loft brick walls, countless beds of flowers in a rainbow of vibrant colors, and a looming castle with a clockwork-adorned exterior. He could smell those fragrant blossoms, hear the babble of the market district, and taste the lingering SWEETNESS after a salty bite. Everything felt so real, those memories which he had long since pronounced dead. Their vitality summoned a swirling portal of shadow a mere step from the edge. The Dark Corridor curled, suspended in the air above Twilight Town. One, single step and he could be HOME.

Really...who could stop me?

#zettaflarc #*･ ‧͙ ☾ ˢᶦᵈᵉʳᵉ ᵐᵉⁿˢ ᵉᵃᵈᵉᵐ ᵐᵘᵗᵃᵗᵒ. — ᵖᵃʳᵃᵈᵒˣ ☽ ‧͙ ･*#//this took me so long to get to you holy shiiiiiit i'm sorry #//lemme know if anything needs adjusting for your norted boi's headcanon! c:

1 note · View note

insanityembraced · 5 years

Text

Abnormal, Different, and Sometimes Extraordinary But Not Defective or Degenerate

I suffer from borderline personality disorder. It drastically influences my thoughts, actions, and understanding of the world around me. My perception, is and will always be altered by my, some say warped, I say realistic and unnaturally insightful, evaluation of emotional energy.

My personality disorder, label, or peculiarity, to me is a gift and makes me exceptional, not broken or in some way dangerous to leave unsupervised amongst non-afflicted personalities that perceive the world in a bland, underwhelming, and arguably are disordered, because they have lost or failed to attain enough focus or mental dexterity. In fact, the more we allow rigidity to limit man kinds ability to feel, sense, and accurately understand the emotional forces that bond us to each other and create the vivid colors of passion, creativity, and intensity only strong emotional tethers can sustain.

Sometimes my intensity and extrasensory ability is overwhelming and manifests in ways society labels as disordered, but in reality it is extraordinary and has mostly served to save rather than hinder my ability to navigate life. However, not every cloud is bright and humanity will always struggle with self control when faced with uncertainty and inesacapable animalistic urges that test our ability to get perspective in a world that never stops changing and evolving.

The following are some things that give insight into the extraordinary or even completely debilitating effects of my borderline personal perception of a world others see differently than I am capable of understanding:

I am insanely fickle. I can change my mind over and over and often times drastically reimagine my understanding of people and how we have shaped this globe or domed furmament into a prison with imaginary boundries created by hate and fear continuously infused into every fiber of human understanding.

As humanity becomes more and more oblivious to pure unadulterated empathy our sense of self blurs and society begins to eliminate diversity by allowing humanity to be silenced by fear built atop a drift of sand in the desert. However, even after the mirage has been unveiled as an invasive and aggressive sickness that has spread over the world consuming the rage and ignorance created by destroying pure empathy and viciously ripping humanity apart.

The more I explore the reaches of human understanding the less I believe we are even capable of understanding anything with certainty. Those who have attained great knowledge should have also gained an openness to the existence of many different kinds of intellectual perception that transcends traditional understanding of fact, fiction, or hypothetical scientific "certainty". Now I am convinced that the only thing I know with absolute certainty is that knowledge is currently to vast to contain within the limitations of our perception.

One thing that plagues those allegedly inflicted with a sickness so pervasive it has apparently permanently corrupted our souls and left us with scarred and impossibly broken personalities that now defines us entirely. Civilized, brainwashed, and fluoridated masses, given an instinctual fear of people labeled as mentally I'll. This instinct is based on a indistinct and uneducated manipulation of the different types of intellectual dexterity that can bless, awaken, and be a source of harmonious unification; instead the talents that I possess give me a different perspective on nearly everything. Different does not mean wrong. Failure of other humans to understand me or grasp the fiber of what makes me decipher the world in a different fashion that transcends even our sense of culture or language to create a group of individuals who consistently perceive stimuli from feeling, emotion, electrical charge of ions affected by forces not understood by those who close their mind to bothering with the difficult task of trying to think with other parts of your brain, even if it is unnatural or difficult.

I believe all intellectual or sensory talents are of value and should be developed in different environments that foster the use and improvement of our naturally occurring talents in says that create harmony and richer depth of understanding once we have opened our minds to different sensory observations that do not prove I am insane. All your label has done is help me to understand myself in a deep and intensely critical fashion that has helped me truthfully identify things I need to work on controlling and I also have had the opportunity to evaluate my triggers, identify signs of irrational or destructive thinking. This has allowed me to develop and institute coping mechanism and other internal and external tools to keep myself from allowing myself to overload my sensory system, not because I am permanently and invasively altered by psychic dysfunction that renders me a rambling, irrational nutcase unworthy of being trusted, believed, and people labeled borderline or who are labelled as having a personality disorder are just blessed with different sensory sensitivity that does create distinct differences in observation and unless there is effort exerted to understand and effectivy communicate with individuals who have a spacial or coordinated dexterity that can traslate into movement fluidity or accuracy that I am not natuRally blessed with and need help understanding and fostering such talent since I have an actual natural tendency to manage to fall inexplicably without warning or even applicston of outside force, but simply an internal lack of balance and a long term battle with my ability to see and thus manage my four dimensional space with grace.

All of this introspective personal reflection and growth should be a part of every human being on earth. Then those who suffer from similar difficulty in adjusting to certain triggers do not need to be defined by their diagnosis. The diagnosis is just how we find people who understand why my perception is differently aligned. We do not have to be feared, send to bedlam because of fear, or an irrational fear I will suddenly and violently embody my Hollywood stereotype and fatal ataction someone because I have been labeled and my internal bomb has been officially triggered.

Of coarse that is ridiculous and even people with the same disorder or same perspective still live life with shifting social, financial, qwwd many times has lead even similar differently abled souls to different ways to use our gifts to hopefully work towards harmony and unxersdnsign. 0⁰

t at your own understanding of the things you percieve. f we could acceptinstead of trying to force humanity into a mold f different talents and maybe even extraordinary abilities understanding with our surroundings. efear fear my extra personality have particularl feared the intense s have a history of failing to comply with medications and I am not good at consistently maintaining routine of anykind. I can only maintain a routine for days, occasionally weeks, and rarely have I ever maintained a consistent routine for more than six months.

I am capable of liking or becoming interested or disinterested in anything without warning. I consume myself with a fiery intensity for things that I will let consume me until I burn out. I have completely abandoned interests, hobbies, people, or career paths in a moment. The thing that I wanted to do every minute for the last 6 months, like when I fell in love with painting, instantly and without warning become unfulfilling, tedious, and inferior to a new and exciting passion to focus my obsessions on. I feel so intensely that I cannot enjoy or contain my energy in any repetitive or monotonous activity.

I unintentionally attract emotional disfunction; I have an uncontrollable urge to save certain dysfunctional or misunderstood humans; I become particularly enraged by the self designated elite, and often intellectually inferior humans, that intentionally exploit the weak, poor, uneducated, or disenfranchised; I cannot always protect myself from the emotions of others, human emotion produced by strangers can be so powerful I have literally fallen to my knees, began crying uncontrollably, or even been unable to breath based on proximity alone; pure emotion can be released from the body like a shockwave, but only if the emotion is genuinely produced; I cannot always distinguish liars, but I can always spot people who really are devoid of any kind if emotional depth, and they are the truly dangerous, because they dont care, feel, or empathize with humanity at all; I am intensely impulsive, particularly when I am having difficulty understanding and communicating with others; I am bad at maintaining relationships because of paranoia, constant fear of abandonment, and an inability to truly understand individuals; I only understand emotions and emotional energy, but fail miserably at understanding or anticipating actions driven by selfishness or purity of evil intent; I am unpredictable, even I cannot understand or predict all my begavior; once I cross the line into a psychotic episode, I lose all control, awareness, or ability to understand reality; I will black out entirely, and have absolutely no memory for hours or even days; when I gain control of my sanity the blackout lifts slowly like a thick fog; the lingering fog of psychosis is like a mental sedative that makes even simple tasks impossible, like remembering your name, or knowing if you are awake or asleep, or being able to understand basic human conversation; overwhelmingly emotional, and I have occasional breakdowns peppered with forced hospitalizations. Mental hospitals, particularly those that restrain the liberty of people who aren't capable of faking the numbness society expects of us all; are ineffectual, uninspired, and often the patients are treated without feeling, dignity, compassion, interest, competence, respect, understanding, and often staff not only refuses to listen, observe, or address any of the specific problems facing an individual. Instead the psychiatrists often do not even pretend to do their job and blindly medicate those they do not understand until they become someone else's problem.

1 note · View note

vivasharkart · 6 years

Text

Cardinal Attraction (Part 2 of 2)

Part 1

Pairing: Steve/Tony

Rating: T, probably

Soulmate AU: Every person is born wearing a compass around their neck that points to wherever their soulmate is. A twist on The Avengers. I found a rough draft for this fic that I’d written THREE YEARS AGO and I needed a reason to procrastinate, so here’s the finished version! Enjoy :)

Word count: 1,959

A/N: I didn’t think Part 2 was going to take this long, but I hope it was worth the wait! So grateful for all the love the first part of this fic received, thank you so much <3

Steve

Steve couldn’t sleep.

After a full hour of tossing and turning, he gave up and decided to head down to the gym to blow off some steam. He’d been having a lot of troubled thoughts lately. His mind was a jumbled mix of past and future, with no in-between. It had been several weeks since he’d “woken up”, but even his enhanced brainpower wasn’t enough for him to get his head around this particular situation just yet. His therapist called it PTSD. At least that was one down on the extensive list of things he didn’t know. He had too many questions and not enough answers, and it was surprisingly infuriating.

The newly formed compass nestled comfortably under his shirt was probably the only thing keeping Steve grounded to sanity. The scientists at S.H.I.E.L.D. were particularly intrigued about it, especially since it was the most notable change that had occurred to his body during his sleep, but no one was sure how or why it had happened. But whatever the cause, it was helping Steve cope with the 21st century in a way that nothing else could- it gave him a sense of purpose. Right now, somewhere, somebody’s compass was pointing straight at him. It was almost as if his time under the ice was meant to be- kind of like how Sleeping Beauty needed to wait for her prince. Steve let out a wry chuckle. Grimm’s Fairy Tales references? He really needed to get in touch with the times.

But as much as his compass gave him some form of solace, it wasn’t like it didn’t raise an entirely new set of worries. What kind of person would his soulmate be? Were they as anxious to find him as he was? How was he going to find them in the first place when he knew he was constantly being watched per Fury’s orders? He’d briefly considered asking S.H.I.E.L.D. for help, what with all the state-of-the-art technology and resources they had at their disposal, but he had his reservations about getting a federal organization so intimately involved in his private life. He was already under enough scrutiny as it is, so why give them another excuse? Plus, it was kind of embarrassing.

And most importantly, why now? How was he supposed to keep up with his modern soulmate when he still had trouble operating a smartphone? How would his soulmate react when they realized he was… what he was? For one, he was supposed to be 94 years old this year. Nothing about him was natural. What if they couldn’t handle it? The word freak suddenly rang inside his head, loud and clear, a disembodied voice from a long time ago that had stuck with him through the ice, forever haunting.

Would it be better off if he never found them at all?

SLAM.

Steve blinked. He’d been so lost inside his own head that he hadn’t realized how much force he’d been putting into his punches. The last blow had taken the sandbag clean off its chain and sent it flying toward the other side of the room. He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding, and was just about to set up a second sandbag when he heard footsteps enter the empty gym.

“Trouble sleeping?”

Steve looked over to find Nick Fury at the doorway. “I slept for 70 years, I think I’ve had my fill.” His eyes landed on the thick paper file he was holding. “You here with a mission, sir?”

“I am.”

“Trying to get me back in the world?”

“Trying to save it,” Nick corrected, handing him the file. Cautiously, Steve flipped it open, his gaze immediately drawn to a photo of a very familiar blue cube. His heart sank, the face of the Red Skull momentarily flashing before his eyes. “Hydra’s secret weapon,” he remembered.

“Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought what we think; the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That's something the world sorely needs, but in a recent turn of events, it got stolen.”

“Who took it from you?”

“He’s called Loki. He’s not from around here. There’s a lot we’ll have to bring you up to speed on if you’re in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know.”

You don’t say, Steve thought, absentmindedly fingering his compass. It still felt strangely new to him. “At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me.”

Nick cocked his head almost amusedly. “Ten bucks says you’re wrong,” he said, before making his way out of the gym. Steve stood there silently for a moment before turning his attention back to the file in his hands.

For whatever reason, the world needed Captain America again. His soulmate would have to wait.

Tony

“Stark, we have a situation.”

Nick Fury’s voice rang out from Tony’s Starkphone the moment he reached his hotel room. “You always have a situation,” he replied a little breathlessly, unlocking the door.

Nick ignored his remark. “We need you to come in.”

“Thought you sent Spangles to take care of the guy?”

“Loki’s stronger than we thought. Cap’s barely holding up.”

Tony let out a dramatic sigh. “Must I always swoop in to save the day?”

He could almost hear Fury rolling his eyes on the other end. “Sending coordinates now.”

“You’re lucky I’m even in Germany,” Tony grumbled as the call disconnected. Pulling off his tie and jacket, he swiftly activated the Mark VI and clambered into the suit. The Iron Man armor whirred to life around him, familiar holograms blinking into existence before his eyes, as Tony pulled up Fury’s coordinates and set a course for Stuttgart. A quick search loaded multiple videos that confirmed Fury’s words: they really had a situation. A major wardrobe situation. Seriously, what was with those antlers?

Guess it’s my job to bring some real life to the party. “J.A.R.V.I.S., back me up with a little… thrill, will you?”

“As you wish, sir.”

Tony launched himself into the air, and wasted no time flying to Stuttgart. The quinjet hovering above Cap and Loki’s ongoing battle came into view just as J.A.R.V.I.S. finished hacking into the S.H.I.E.L.D. PA system. He glimpsed Natasha behind the wheel, a look of mild confusion on her face, as AC/DC’s Shoot to Thrill pierced the thick tension of the small public square.

Showtime.

“Agent Romanoff, you miss me?”

Tony dived down, blasting Loki with a powerful shot from both his repulsors, knocking him backwards into the stone steps. Executing a flawless landing- god, he hoped someone caught that on camera- Tony brought out all his guns, training them on the dazed figure propped up on the ground.

“Make your move, reindeer games.”

Tony fully expected Loki to retaliate somehow, and was already suspiciously eyeing the weird glowing stick thing lying a few feet away, but was completely taken aback to see him slowly raise both hands into the air. Well, that was easy.

“Good move.”

He sensed movement on his left, and out of the corner of his eye saw Captain America making his way over. He looked a little battered, which was surprising considering how quickly Loki had surrendered. Maybe the hero was a little too out of time to live up to his legend. But, as peculiar as the circumstances were, Steve Rogers was his childhood hero, and after all these years of assuming he was dead, it was Tony’s first time meeting him in person. Needless to say, a part of him was kind of jittery in excitement. But only a bit.

Captain America braced his shield and gave him a slight nod. “Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s insides squirmed slightly. Be cool, be cool, I need to be cool.

Luckily, being cool was second nature to Tony Stark.

“Captain,” he replied smoothly, retracting his helmet, and turned to face Steve Rogers for the first time.

As soon as brown eyes met blue, Tony felt hot- like, really hot. As in, his-compass-felt-like-it-was-burning-a-hole-through-his-chest kind of hot. Gasping, he clutched at his chest, and out of the corner of his eye, it looked like Captain America was suddenly in pain as well, because he’d dropped his shield and had collapsed to the ground.

“J.A.R.V.I.S, what’s happening?”

“Running diagnostics now, sir.”

“No time for diagnostics, disengage breastplate now!”

“What’s going on down there?” Natasha’s voice blared from the copter speakers. Loki chose that moment to disappear into thin air, but for once nothing mattered more to Tony than the searing hot pain in his chest. J.A.R.V.I.S. came through and his chest plate flew clean off the rest of his suit just as Steve tore through the fabric of his shirt. The sight that met them both was something neither of them were prepared for, and they both gaped. Their compasses were glowing, burning.

Changing color.

It felt like the world was at a standstill, holding its breath for what came next. For a single moment, there was no one else in the infinite continuum of time and space but Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, as pure gold bled into the silver of their compasses and the fire slowly subsided. Everything felt hazy and yet so clear as they looked into each other’s eyes, the feeling of something hollow and missing finally clicking into place. For a while, they could only stare at each other, struggling to make sense of this seemingly impossible situation. Tony was the first to break the silence.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Epilogue

“Daaad, my compass is spinning again!”

Tony looked up from his Starkpad to see his son, Peter, rush into the dining room, compass in hand. Sure enough, the needle was whizzing around inside the silver pendulum, a sign that one’s soulmate had passed away. A sight that would usually be met with a solemn, tragic silence, except the Rogers-Stark family was getting a little too familiar with such occasions.

Steve strolled over, his eyebrows knitted in fatherly concern. “What is this, the 24th time?”

Tony took a sip of his coffee. “25th. That we know of.”

“And we still haven’t found the reason why?”

Tony shook his head. “I’ve looked into it and it’s not unprecedented. Cases of compasses spinning and then coming back to life- it’s uncommon, but it happens. You know, people whose hearts stop beating for a few minutes before doctors manage to revive them again… But Pete’s soulmate, whoever they are, is way past ridiculous at this point. Who has the kind of endurance to go through a near-death experience 25 times?”

“At this point, it’s like fate is messing with me,” Peter grumbled.

“I don’t know, son, fate works in mysterious ways.” Steve pat his son’s back.

“Who knows, maybe this time he’s actually dead.”

“DAD!” Peter yelled at the same time Steve let out a stern “Tony!” Tony held his hands up in defeat.

“Okay, okay, I’m just- oh, look, it’s working again. The magnetism is back on.”

Peter quickly brought his compass up to his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “Dad, remind me why you can’t lend me one of your jets so I can go find this guy before they go and get themselves killed for good?”

“Absolutely not, you have school. Also, we have no idea what we’re dealing with here.”

“You flew twice around the world to find Papa!”

“That was after I finished school. Also, it didn’t work.”

“You finished school at 17,” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Honey, let’s stick to the point here…”

Unbeknownst to the squabbling family, a couple hundred miles away, Wade Wilson let out a maniacal laugh as his lungs finished regenerating.

The end?

#stony #stevetony #steve x tony #superhusbands #fanfic #marvel #avengers #stony fanfiction #superfamily #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #captain america #spideypool

133 notes · View notes

mikayla-jays-world-blog · 6 years

Text

Mikayla Jay's World...

Welcome one and all.

Hey friends....I thought it's about time for me to really introduce myself to all of you. I started this little blog about 6 weeks ago, and the first thing I should say is that I'm...well...*ahem... getting older. (I'm 45). As such, I'm a bit of a late-comer to social media. If truth be told, this is my first and only blog and platform that I have ever used. Ever. I don't use Facebook, I'm not a YouTuber or on Twitter or Twatter or Chatsnap or whatever else is typically used by y'all. This isn't about monetization for me. I needed a place to be creative, to vent, to learn, to grow...and most importantly...I wanted to find others in hopes of developing some sort of support network for myself. You see, in addition to being old (er), I'm also a proud MTF Transgender WOMAN. I am also bi-sexual, with a ravenous sexual appetite for both men and women - and each for their own unique reasons and dynamics. I have been an artist for mist if my life and career, having spent over 15 years professionally as a tattoo artist (I was attracted to Tumbler initially because of the graphic friendly, pro-art/artist philosophy...and the porn lol- at least until they took that away 🙄). I got burned out professionally about 18 months ago, and really wanted to follow a dream that has been sitting in the back of my head for years and years... I wanted to pursue writing. I've always believed that you do what you love, AND THEN you find a way to get paid doing it. But really, it's not about making money for me. It's about living my life on my terms, loving the person I continue evolving into, standing in my own truths, living authentically and being happy....truly happy with the life I want to live. And while I'm on the topic, I wasn't always interested in that. Living, I mean. The Cole's Notes version of my past is certainly colorful, but also full of pain and some tragedy- like many of us.

I grew up in a chaotic household, with parents that fought constantly and ultimately divorced. That was tough on me because I was close to my mom, and not so much to my father. Mom was a Nurse, Dad a University Professor. You see, I knew I was different from an early age. Thing is, my Mom knew too. She caught me wearing her makeup (because I would smush her lipsticks not understanding proper application techniques, and she got tired of me destroying them on her lol). So my Mom decided to show me how to apply makeup properly. She knew I liked lingerie, dresses, heels etc. I believe she also knew that I was not straight at the very least- certainly as I entered my teens and became a horny kid, it became obvious- to her. My father had his face in a textbook my entire childhood, and so was oblivious to his oldest son's (me) true personality. As such, I became very close to Mom. She was my best friend.

When I was 13, my parents divorced. My Mom needed a fresh start and my father made way more money, so we (me and younger brother) were forced to live with him. We moved to Maritime Canada- Prince Edward Island to be specific, as my father accepted a job in Charlottetown. My Mom moved to the North West Territories, and took a job as an Emergency Medical Flight Nurse working thru a small Native reserve hospital in Fort Simpson NWT. I was heart broken at being away from her suddenly, and bitter at the whole situation. Then my life really turned upside down.

My Mom, the best friend I ever had, loved her new life. She was finally really happy, and at peace with herself. She spent a very. fullfilling year up North. Then, just before X-Mas 1988, my world fell apart. My mom was on an emergency medical flight, and without me reliving painfull details, the plane she was flying in- 3 miles from the airport on the return leg, flew into a mountain. The plane exploded on impact, and my Mom was killed. That day, a big piece of my heart died.

I'm 14 yrs old. My mom, my best friend, my confidant and only person I trusted and supported who I was, was taken from me. The impact it had on me was simple. I was broken inside. I was in a new city and province, had no friends, was confused, alone....and broken.

The way I dealt with the pain and grief was to bury it by inside me. I became introverted, isolated, depressed, and scared. I was also trying to fit in where I didn't belong. Those of you that have never experienced small town maritime Canada, it's like Deliverence. Only worse. I had to adapt to my surroundings. The local customs and beliefs were not open, accepting or pro LGBTQ. The one thing I had going for me (at least then) was that I was coordinated and active. I could play sports. And I was a big kid. I believed my only option to fit in was to pretend I was like "everyone else". I learned to bury not just my pain, but everything that made me who I was. My sexuality. My needs and longings to feel feminine. To dress up and wear makeup. The happiest side of my personality was intimately linked to my feeling that I was born in the wrong body. I became sport-o. A jock. I blocked out and buried that part of me. And began living a life of lies. I became a "mans man".

Fast forward. I got big. I got angry. I hated myself and the world. I got involved in football and rugby and started amateur boxing. I became more confused as time went on. And more angry. Eventually after University, I moved out West. To British Columbia. Vancouver. Part of me wanted to get as far away from my father, Atlantic Canada, and my past. Part of me was aware of the progressive open gay community out there.

I ended up taking a job as a bouncer in a fairly violent biker bar. I immersed myself in that world, all the while walking a razors edge where I was "Iron Mike" on the outside, a tough SOB and all around bastard of a person. My confusion and anger over time grew into overwhelming dysphoria. I hated my body. I hated the way I looked. I battled those feeling by way overcompensating and going to the extreme other end of the gender scale. I became hyper masculine outwardly, and satisfied my inner desires on the sly, behind everyone's back. I engaged in many dangerous and stupid behaviors. I became a drug addict. And that culminated in 3 suicide attempts. I wanted to die.

That part of my life is a story for another time. But I will fast forward, for the sake of my sanity and yours. I was lucky enough to find an addictions doctor and a mental health councillor who helped me turn my life around. I began with grief Councilling for dealing with my mother's death. As I learned to trust the two women at that clinic, I came clean. With everything. My sexuality. My gender identity. I opened up about my risky sexual behavior (days and weeks suppressing and burying who I was inevitably would boil over and I would "blow off steam in the extreme let's just say.) Cyclical, drug fuelled gay sex parties were like a medicinal, almost spiritual healing event, just in a backwards twisted sort of way. My depression, dysphoria and anxiety would go up and down with my moods. I needed to change. And the more I worked on accepting myself, and battling the debilitating shame of feeling like a closet freak, the more I realized how wrong I had always been. How confused, disillusioned and unhappy I always was. I learned, slowly and not without setbacks, that I was not the pariah I feared I would become. I wasn't a freak. And I didn't have to continue to be......broken.

Over the past 10 years, I have grown and evolved. I began by accepting that I was gender fluid, and embracing it. My lifelong habit of crossdressing became something I refused to bury, and I stopped being ashamed of it. I consider myself mostly bisexual....with a definitive preferrence towards gay men and gay sex. I enjoy sleeping with women as well, but I really find it is a different type of sex, and my attraction to women is more about the intimacy. I emotionally 'make love' to women, whereas I like a good n' nasty fuck with a man...call me old-fashioned LMAO.

I also evolved in my gender identity, my knowledge and experience growing alongside my courage, and the belief in who I really am. I have grown to embrace the woman I've been evolving into. The amount of time I spent dressed up and living as a female grew more and more. I learned to truly accept myself, and the word Transgender. The philosophy, lifestyle, choices, mental impact and ultimately the strength and happiness that I've found by embracing that I AM A PROUD AND HAPPY MTF TRANSGENDER WOMAN has absolutely changed and saved my life. As such, I went through Gender Councilling, and went through the long and arduous waiting list/period to see a gender specialist doctor. I am so excited to say that I finally began by hormone therapy treatment about 6 weeks ago.

Which brings me to where we are now. I have just begun the next phase of my life. I am so happy and thankful to have survived and come through on the other side. Part of that journey has been learning to love myself. Respect myself. Believe in myself. I am so grateful to the small support group of doctor's and mental health workers who helped me learn to live my life as it was always meant to have been lived. And the other part is making sure that I can pay that gratitude forward, by helping other Transgender people live their authentic wonderful lives. That's a big reason why I started my blog. Mikayla Jay's World is a reflection of who I am. It is a place where I can thrive, meet others like myself, actually BE myself, and continue to grow....creatively, spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. It is a world where you won't be judged, and you will always find a supportive girl to lean on and become friends with. We are on the cusp of great societal changes. We have the ability to help each other through the difficulties still to come, and all be stronger, better people for it. Welcome to the world I live in. Welcome to a place I love. A safe place to be who you are...inside and out....and a place where we can all laugh, cry, be shocked, be turned on, be motivated, be creative, be unique, and be loved. Your always welcome in Mikayla Jay's World. Thanks y'all.

2 notes · View notes

theartificialdane · 7 years

Text

Galactica, part 252

Day of the wedding! Follow everyone as they get ready for the big moment, and the I do that will change lives forever.

“Perviously on Galactica, Raven refused the help of a wedding planner, taking care of every detail by herself. At the rehearsal dinner, Violet tanked her maid of honor speech (with no help from Sutan), and Courtney stood up to Bianca for her patronizing behaviour, and that’s what you missed on Glee.”

Thank you to @veronicasanders @toriibelledarling and @samrull

Violet had no idea what she had expected for Raven’s wedding preparations, but no matter what she had thought, this wasn’t it. Violet had always known Raven was a person who enjoyed the extravagant, but to actually see it with her own eyes was a very different experience.

“Wow...”

“I know right?” Juju laughed. Juju had cornered Violet when she had come back from the gym that morning, her hair still wet from the shower she had taken after running until she couldn’t think anymore. For a second, Violet had assumed Juju wanted to talk about the speech, about how horribly she had failed and how disappointed both Raja and Raven had to be in her, but in reality, all Juju wanted was her help to set up and make sure everything was okay. C

“It’s...It’s...wow...” Violet looked around. Violet knew Raven had pretty much booked the entire hotel, but the suite was outside of her wildest imaginations, Violet even feeling a little sick as she briefly tried to calculate how much money Raven had spent on it, before giving up for her sanity's sake.

A gigantic, elaborate brunch buffet was laid out on one end of the suite, complete with caterers in crisp chef coats bustling around, setting up pastry towers and stations for fresh omelets, waffles and crepes to order.

A harpist sat in another corner, across from the mani/pedi stations and massage tables. Violet was so distracted by all of the luxurious surrounding that she didn’t notice the dreaded binders until Juju nudged her arm and pointed to a shelf. Color-coded, tabbed, labeled with their names.

“Ladies!” Raven sang, sailing from one of the bedrooms in a dressing gown, trailing yards of marabou feathers behind her. “I’m sooo delighted that my two favorite people are the first to arrive! Please have some breakfast and make yourselves comfortable!” With a flurry of air kisses, she flew back into the bedrooms.

“Well, she seems to be...in a good mood,” Violet commented.

“Don’t be fooled by the showmanship. We’re soldiers today. Those books are our missions,” Juju laughed. “Let’s see if she can top Fame on the crazy bride scale, though I have a good feeling she will.”

Violet shuddered.

***

“Heyyyy!” Sutan gave Karl a fist bump, the two exchanging a secret handshake as if they were kids, before Sutan slid into the large, circular booth.

Bianca turned to Raja, snickering, Raja smiling brightly.

“They are so lame when they try to bro out…”

“You’re just mad we’re cool, Bianca.”

“Let them have it. It’s their one butch thing,” Raja laughed, toasting her.

Fame giggled, leaning on Raja’s other shoulder and signaling for the waiter.

“Can we get a refill on the mimosas please? Thank you!”

“That’s right, keep ‘em coming!” Detox agreed.

“Just as long as no one gets too drunk.”

“We would never.” Fame laughed, taking one of the glasses the waiter came back with.

“So Raj, are you doing any fucking thing today to help your bae, or is she taking care of the entire shit show herself?” Karl asked.

“Uhhh…” Raja scratched her head. “Well, I’m supposed to check in with Adore to make sure that she and the band are ready for their set and in contact with the AV people. And…”

Bianca raised an eyebrow.

“...you know, get dressed at some point,” she finished, with a slightly guilty expression, sipping her mimosa. “I have a makeup artist and a hairdresser coming. Raven insisted, even though she knows I hate it.” Raja smiled. “I have had enough of strangers touching my face for a lifetime after modeling.”

Patrick laughed and slung an arm around Fame’s shoulders. “Wow, are you sure you can handle all that pressure?”

“Listen, Raven is the one who wanted to do all this on her own. I would have been happy with a courthouse wedding-” Raja had to stop talking as everyone snorted. “I would! All of this is Raven’s idea, so she has to get it done, but trust me, she’ll have her army of bridesmaids to help with the heavy lifting.”

“I think we should toast to Raja, for not assigning us any fucking heavy lifting,” Bianca said.

“Hear hear!” Sutan cried, raising his glass.

***

Just as Juju warned, the spa treatments and sumptuous buffet were simply a precursor to the more pressing business at hand for the day. By noon, Raven had distributed burner phones and binders to every girl, with assignments and specific, detailed instructions.

“Think of it like a scavenger hunt,” she said, sipping daintily from her champagne glass, “Only if you fail and make me look bad in front of the guests, and especially my fucking mother, I’ll murder you.”

Violet knew better than to underestimate the truth in what she was saying. Luckily, her days as one of the best executive assistants in New York City had prepared her for this moment, and so soon she was on the phone with 3 different catering companies, 2 pastry chefs, a raw bar vendor, the hotel event staff, and the wedding cake delivery service.

Once her phone calls were done, she walked over to a panicked Jaslene to help her with the DJ, who’d apparently gotten into a car accident on the New Jersey Turnpike. She texted Pearl and found 3 backup DJs within 20 minutes. With Jaslene’s tears dried, they held hands and walked over to the nail station to present the options to the bride.

Violet had never thought she would be so happy to work for free, the rush of keeping track of everything keeping her mind from wandering and playing tricks on her.

***

“Heyy, that looks great!” Karl exclaimed. “I’ve missed American food so much. This is like, the first breakfast in months I’ve had without any goddamn beans on the plate.”

“Speak for yourself!” Patrick laughed, digging into his huevos rancheros.

“Okay, wait, before we begin eating, can I just say…” Fame held her glass up, eyes slightly misty. “Raja, I’m just so happy that you found the kind of love that-”

“Yeah, yeah, true love, save it for tonight, blondie,” Bianca sighed, toasting her.

“Thank you, darling,” Raja said, kissing Fame on the cheek.

Detox nudged Sutan with his elbow, gesturing to Bianca, who was typing furiously on her phone, brow furrowed. “What do you think that’s all about?”

“Well...I mean, I don’t want to gossip-”

“Sure, of course not.”

“But I heard that B is in quite the doghouse. Apparently she slept on Fame’s couch or something last night.”

Detox cackled.

***

“Flowers?”

“All 3 vendors are here and coordinating with Marilyn as requested. Here’s the first progress picture…” Naima showed Raven a photo on her phone, earning a gracious smile from the beautiful bride.

“Very good. You may join us for a mani/pedi, but be sure to keep the phone nearby.”

Naimi collapsed into the spa chair with a relieved sigh.

“Photographer and videographer are all set!” Allison declared triumphantly.

“Proof?” Raven asked.

“Uhhh...”

“They’re texting back in a minute, as soon as they get out of the subway!” Violet interjected, seeing the fear in Allison’s eyes. She gripped the blonde by the forearm and dragged her back into the other room to help her complete her mission.

***

“Oh god you look amazing.” Fame smiled brightly, looking at Raja as she got the finishing touches on her makeup done.

“Thank you.” Raja laughed. “I really like the gold, can I get a bit more eyeshadow?”

Fame stepped aside as the makeup artist went in again. It was only her, Bianca and Raja in the suite Raja and Raven shared, Raja preferring a small bridal party for her while she got ready. Fame took two new glasses and dumped down on the sofa, giving one to Bianca who was staring at her phone.

“Fuck,” Bianca muttered.

“She still isn’t responding?” Fame asked.

“Who isn’t responding?” Raja asked.

“Nothing...” Bianca put her phone into her purse and took the glass Fame gave her. “Can’t we just toast to eternal love and all that bullshit again?”

“That was beautiful, Bianca. You should officiate,” Raja snickered.

Fame put a hand on Bianca’s arm, offering her friend comfort. Fame knew that the Courtney situation was driving Bianca crazy, but her friend shrugged her off, clearly not wanting her touch.

“Fuck off.”

“B, please can we just like, chill?” Raja turned her head. “I’ve got some weed if you need it?”

“Nah.”

“Okay, but you’re on thin ice. I want a low key no drama day to prepare myself for the circus tonight.”

***

“Are these too tight?” Pearl turned slightly, showing off her ass to Laila who was still laying in bed, her computer out as she was replying to comments on her channel, the two of them enjoying that they had somehow gotten an overnight invitation to the wedding, the leftovers from the breakfast on the side table. Pearl was naked except for a pair of dark pants, her ass looking absolutely sinful, her long blonde hair a lazy mess on top of her head, her full tits out, and Laila felt her mouth go slightly dry.

“I can’t believe you’re wearing a suit. Is it like, a thing?”

“It’s my wedding gear, makes my gay ass look great, and makes all the girls want me.” Pearl smiled, and made her way towards the bed, crawling onto it and picking Lailas computer up, moving it to the side. “I’m the wedding stud, and it’s hot as fuck.”

“That’s romantic.”

“It is when I don’t care about them.” Pearl smiled and crawled into Laila’s lap, placing her girlfriends hands on her hips. “Because all I want is you.” Pearl leaned down and kissed Laila.

“All I want is you too.”

***

Courtney collapsed onto her bed, sighing. She thought that she’d feel better after an intense workout and steamy shower, but unfortunately, her misery had only compounded since the night before.

She heard her phone buzz and picked it up.

BIANCA: I understand if you’re still upset, but I want to talk.

BIANCA: Can we please meet before the ceremony?

BIANCA: Point taken

BIANCA: Let me know if you change your mind

BIANCA: I love you

Courtney hesitated, closing her eyes. She wasn’t ignoring Bianca on purpose, but she just didn’t know what to say. How was she supposed to explain her current state of mind without sounding accusatory and ungrateful? What if she fucked things up even more?

So opened her eyes and called the one person who could possibly be a voice of reason in all this.

“Hello kitten!”

Ben’s voice was warm and happy, full of laughter. Sounded like he was having a great time on vacation.

“Hey Ben. How’s Cancun?”

“Fantastic, darling! I’d say wish you were here, but I’m just enjoying all this hot Latin dick far too much.”

Courtney giggled.

“Well, I’m glad one of us is having a good time.”

“What’s wrong, love?”

“I just...I got into a horrible fight with Bianca last night, and now we have this wedding today, and I don’t know what to say when I see her. It’s just...god, I’m so mad at her, and I feel like shit, and then, she’s the one person who I know will make me feel better.”

“With her tongue, you mean?” Ben snickered.

“Ben, please, be serious.” Courtney curled up around a pillow.

“I am being serious. You fucking cave to her every time she touches you. It’s pathetic.”

“I know.”

“I mean, grow up already and get a backbone. If you’re pissed at her, tell her, and let the chips fall. You’re allowed to be angry.”

“I know, but I don’t want to be a drama queen. And I haven’t answered her all day because I don’t know what to say, which at this point feels petty and childish.”

Ben sighed.

“Listen to me. You can’t just give her the silent treatment-“

“I know that, Ben! But what do I say?”

“Do you really want to get into it in a hotel with all of her friends?”

“Of course not!” Courtney exclaimed.

“Well then, you’re gonna have to just suck it up and be cool. But tell her that you still want to talk, after you get home. And by then maybe you’ll have your shit together.”

“And if I don’t?” Courtney asked.

“Well then, you’ll just do what you always do and back down the second she gets you naked.”

“Thanks, Ben.”

“You’re welcome! Have fun at the wedding, peaches. Mwah mwah!”

And with that, the call was over. Courtney rolled her eyes, covering her face with her hands.

BIANCA: Are you okay? Should I come to the room? I wish I had my arms around you right now.

COURTNEY: I’m fine. Sorry for the radio silence. Stay with Raja. I’ll see you later. XX

***

“Do you think I should keep the veil down?” Raja turned slightly, trying to find any mirror in the little reception hall her and Sutan was waiting in. Everyone is already ready and waiting inside except for Raven. Raja was wearing a golden wedding dress clearly and heavily inspired by the traditional clothes from indonesia, her arms covered in lace, her hair and face covered by a long veil. “It felt right in the moment, but I’m not sure now.” Raja clutched her bouquet, trying to decide, when she felt Sutan’s hand on her arm.

“Here, let me.” Sutan turned to his sister, flipping her veil up. “Wow..” The twins stand together a little while, looking at each other.

[Up, definitely up.] [Are you crying?]

[I just realised, that even though my entire career has been built on your face, you’ve never looked more beautiful than just now.]

Raja smiles and gives her brother a quick, closed mouthed kiss.

[I can’t wait for you to walk me down the aisle.]

[I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.]

Some disturbance barge through the door.

***

“Isn’t it crazy warm in here?”

“Ssh.” Katya shushed Trixie, the man rolling his eyes, even though he did stop fidgeting. They were sitting together, both of them waiting for the ceremony to begin, the hall bustling with noise at the many guests. “There are so many people here.”

“Wedding of the year.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I saw an ice sculpture of Raja and Raven in lingerie out in the hall, I’m pretty sure that qualifies as wedding of the year.”

“I still know a wedding that was so much better.”

“Which one?”

“Ours of course.”

Trixie felt himself blush, his face heating up to a million degrees as Katya looked at him, his wifes bright blue eyes looking at him as if he was the most beautiful thing in the world.

“Do you think anyone will notice that we’re missing?”

“Not even for a minute.”

***

The doors where going to open any minute, and Raja was sweating like a sinner in church. Sutan had walked her down the aisle, the entire experience feeling like something that had happened to a complete stranger, his arm in her’s the only thing that held her grounded, and now she was standing there, all alone, waiting for the doors to open and for Raven to step in. Raven, her soon to be wife. Raja could feel the eyes of her family on her, most of them flown in from Indonesia, their attention making the hair on her arms rise, as she knew Raven’s family was starring as well, all of them without a doubt wishing they would fail, except for her mom, Mani sitting on the front row, the woman crying when Raja and Sutan had come in, and Raja couldn’t wait to hug her and kiss her later. Raja bit her lip, her heart slowly sinking, but then, music started playing, everyone turning their heads as the doors opened once again. Raven was a vision in white, an angle in her gown, her the doors opened, Raven stepped forward, their eyes meeting across the room, a small smile grazing Raven’s lips, and Raja felt her soul slid into place. In a few short minutes, Raja would never be alone again, and she couldn’t imaging her life go any other way.

***

Violet took a deep breath. She really should have worn more comfortable shoes, her ankle aching. She was standing behind Juju, Allison to her left, the Elite models looking gorgeous and Violet was so thankful she could hide between them. On Raja’s side, Sutan was standing with Bianca and Fame besides him, Bianca yawning, Fame giving her a sharp elbow in the side. Violet wished the entire thing was over, even though she knew there was hours upon hours until she could escape the party and the nagging feeling of being watched, even though she knew she was a nobody at the party. Nobody cared if she was there or not, her roommates too busy with drinks or their partners, Sutan not even commenting once on the fact that she hadn’t finished her speech at the rehearsal dinner.

She took another breath, plastering her most serene, loving, supportive friend expression on and gripping the bouquet she held tightly as the Officiator began.

“We gather here today, in the presence of family and friends to join Raja and Raven in matrimony. We celebrate the coming together in love of these women. We remember that marriage is a time when growing love is made public, when two people share mutual promises. We join in our support of them as they offer themselves to each other. We celebrate their joy, their love and their expectations.”

Katya leaned her head on Trixie’s shoulder, eyes falling closed as he kissed the top of her head.

“I would like to begin my acknowledging that, regardless of the wonderful and loving relationship that Raja and Raven have shared to this day, today, that relationship changes. All of us know it will grow, and become stronger and better.”

Juju gave Detox a small wink, and he responded by blowing her a theatrical kiss. Beside him, Kelly groaned slightly, wondering why her parents were so embarrassing.

“Indeed, during these exciting times, this day is a day of hope; A day in which Raja and Raven demonstrate their faith and love in one another. This is a reading entitled ‘To My Friend.’

“I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you because you have done more than any creed could have done to make me good, and more than any fate could have done to make me happy. You have done it without a touch, without a word, without a sign. You have done it by being yourself. Perhaps, after all, that's what being a friend means.”

Courtney could feel Bianca’s eyes on her before she even glanced at her, dark and smoldering and causing her stomach to twist. Feeling her own eyes misting over, Courtney looked down at her hands, trying to still her racing heart.

“I do.”

Raja turned her head slightly, a smile on her face as Raven had just whispered to her, the entire ceremony going on around them, the Officiator droning on and on.

“You’re not suppose to say that yet.”

“I know, but I want to say it just for you, not for anyone else.” Raven held Raja’s hand a little tighter. “I do Raja.”

“I do too.” Raja smiled at her almost wife, her beautiful and radiant bride, and then turned back to the Officiator to listen to the blessing she was giving.

“May you always need one another, not so much to fill the emptiness as to help each other know your fullness. May you want one another, but not out of lack. May you embrace one another, but not encircle one another. May you succeed in all important ways with each other, and not fail in the little graces. Look for things to praise, often say 'I love you' and take no notice of small faults.”

Juju coughed, poking Raven in the back and causing gentle laughter.

“May you have happiness, and may you find it in making one another happy. May you have love, and may you find it in loving one another. I now have a question for each of you.”

“Oh, thank god, I’m starving,” Pearl muttered under hear breath. Laila giggled and cuddled up close to her with a gentle, “Shh!”

“Raja, you have chosen Raven to be your wife. Will you love and respect her? Will you be honest with her always and will you stand by her through whatever may come?”

“I will,” Raja answered, squeezing Raven’s hands, then murmuring softly, “Even when you’re a brat.”

Raven winked at her.

“Raven, you have chosen Raja to be your wife. Will you love and respect her? Will you be honest with her always-”

“Not a problem!” Raven interjected sassily.

“And will you stand by her through whatever may come?”

“I will.”

Fame dabbed her eyes, turning her head to catch Patrick’s gaze. Warmth spread through her as she bathed in his loving attention, apparent even from five rows back.

“And do you both promise to make the necessary adjustments in your personal lives in order that you may live in a harmonious relationship together?”

“We do,” answered Raja and Raven in unison, eyes unmoving from each other.

Jinkx clasped hands with Adore on one side and Alaska on the other, bringing them into her lap to join together as the Officiator continued.

Raja and Raven, we have heard your promise to share your lives in marriage. We recognize and respect the covenant you have made here this day before each of us as witnesses. Therefore in the honesty and sincerity of what you have said and done here today and by the power vested in me, by the state of New York, I declare you married and partners for life.”

Violet smiled, forgetting every negative emotion she had as she looked at Raja and Raven, the two woman standing side by side, their fingers intertwined as the Officiator talked, both of them looking eternal in their dresses.

“And now...you may seal your vows with a kiss.”

Violet smiled as Raja grabbed Raven’s face, kissing her bride with so much joy that it radiated from her, tears falling from Raven’s eyes as they were finally, absolutely and truthfully married.

#galactica #au aag verse #rpdr fanfiction #my fics

36 notes · View notes

the-dork-neko · 7 years

Text

The Last Rose (Doctor Nez, one-shot)

[Summary] After having his invitation refused for the first time, the 9th Doctor finds advice and incentive in an unexpected place.

[Disclaimer] Doctor Who, its plots, universes, characters and medias, belongs to BBC and the authorized enterprises. The Monkees (band and songs) belongs to those wonderful, charming musicians; the TV show, to NBC, Screen Gems and Columbia Pictures; and the albums, to Rhino and Warner.

The crossover Doctor Nez (Mike Nesmith as a Timelord) was an idea by the wonderful authors @revychumso, @rose-of-pollux and @carlisliesimms fountains of wisdom to both fandoms. Please, go find them on Tumblr and give all the praise they deserve.

The One Rose (Left In My Heart) is, at once, a waltz and a country music classic, originally composed in 1930 (!) by Del Lyon and Lani McIntyre, and recorded in several other covers, in which we can count Mike Nesmith's, as part of the trilogy with The First National Band, in his first solo album, Magnetic South, of 1970.

[Initial Notes]Sorry, I'm not a native speaker, and this story was first conceived and written in Português. So, if you spot any grammar and spelling errors, please, don't be ashamed of pointing them (and your opinions in general) in the box below! :)

She didn't want to get into the TARDIS with him again.

After that fiasco, he couldn't say anything against her.

Nevertheless, she didn't pass the impression of a conformist person, or of someone who'd enjoy routines and predictability. Also, she'd never look like a coward. No way.

To find out the true nature of the beings that stole faces, or got hosted into the mannequins, she did everything beyond the call of duty to her job and her family, until the final consequences. Including an alliance with a complete uknown, unable to inspire any trust.

But, when they triumphed over the enemies, and everything went back to normal, she'd rather end their brief partnership.

He could never judge her, didn't have this right. Even so, the rejection hurt in both his hearts.

On the other hand, it was nearly reassuring, to see that his hearts still had any influence over his young, newly-regenerated body, and his equally young mind, hyperactive in spite of the age, but both so tired after long centuries of battle.

The War could have ended to the planets involved - some of them, with their entire population, were not amongst the existant anymore, by his fault - however, to him, the war was infinite. His lonely torment, impossible to describe, a prison without walls, walked along with him, infinite and inexorable, until the end of all worlds.

And there was not a living soul to guide him back to sanity.

He was worthy of such punishment, as the genocidal of countless people, inluding his own.

Cass ran away from him, like she'd do against a monster or a demon. She wasn't wrong. The amazing girl from Babylon tried to save him, and ended an outcast, a horror story eternally haunting her own people. Rose, after a brief glimpse of his monstruous nature, and his utter inability of saving all of the innocents who crossed his path, followed the wise female intuition, and stayed home.

He didn't have a home to go back to, so he left the choice of the next stop to the TARDIS. It was always a wise movement. No other technology on time-space machines could compare its driving skills with the super smart Old Girl.

To his surprise, they stopped facing more water. Not a river, like the Thames, but a titanic immensity, the Pacific Ocean, lulling the continent in sleepy waves, peacefully dozing through entire geological ages, and conveniently hiding the sound of the dematerialization.

Anyway, it wasn't hard to enjoy a long walk on that desert beach, and go unnoticed.

Nonetheless, they had company. Someone who sang to a nearly extinct bonfire, and a beautiful blonde guitar, well-sheltered in long, thin arms.

*********

Mike didn't expect to have that much fun. He should have gone around town, looking for work, to himself and the band. But Pete got a gift from some neighbors, in the form of a good lot of several leftovers, and proposed a picnic on the beach; as a suddent opportunity to chill out, sing and eat well, close to the fire.

They savoured hot dogs, baked potatos, enjoyed some desserts, and sang, in delight and harmony, with the sounds of the waves, the sunset, the moon and stars ascending into the sky. (2)

The hours advanced, and the young men gave way to exaustion, a pacific sleep, even better to be enjoyed, in a rare time when they were all safe and well-fed.

In spite of being as satiated and tired as the friends he tucked into bed, like a bird zealous of its fledgling cubs, the musician couldn't sleep. He got hold of the custom made guitar, went out the door, crossed the street, and sank his feet in the sand of the beach.

That moment of insomnia brought to him, for some mysterious whim, a bittersweet nostalgia for his motherland.

Michael would never regret migrating to California, pursuing his dream. Quite the opposite. He found a loving, protective family, with whom he could share his anxieties, his needs, and his music.

He had a fond remembrance of the moment when Micky asked him to sing the first song he learnt; and Davy's fiery insistance for having him singing on gigs too. He remembered Peter's unexpected and genius idea of proposing duets and vocal harmonies that needed the whole band, as a subtle way to force him to sing, and get the attention he also deserved, as part of the band, an imperative necessary part of the group. (3)

And it was with shame that he remembered the difficulty in believing that their appreciation, for his voice and his skills, was true, since the very beginning. After some lonely, bitter months living the life of a homeless unemployed, and suffering the complete rejection of any audience, besides having to put up with horrible people jeering at him for sounding like a "hillbilly", it seemed impossible that he ever could findd other professional musicians, inspired by unresistible empathy and creativity, who would enjoy his company and his compositions.

And against all odds, all possibilities, and all advices and common sense, they adopted him, welcoming him into their home. They were the brothers he never had, the precious companions for whom he worried, the people with whom he could live in mutual love, care and protection.

But that didn't mean that he couldn't, once in a while, miss the perfume and the colors of the angels' trumpets, the calls and runnings of the prarie chickens, the impossible heat of the desert air, and the way it turned into a green fountain of life, in the rainy seasons. A whole kaleidoscope of all possible shades of green, beyond where the eyes could see.

Nothing could be better, to take this blues away, than singing something that could bring forth the remembrance of motherland. The brief time of the song would bring him back to somewhere under the graceful sunrise that painted the sky with all shades of rose. He could return, even for some fleeting moments, to that poetic, lonely place where it was impossible to know where the earth ended, and the sky began.

A waltz. A love song. Back then, back there, this kind of music never brought him any luck; finding someone who wanted to hear him was a homeric task; and any of the girls at school ever wanted to dance with him.

Indeed, his past life was exactly like the one lived by the character of this song.

However, there was a man who liked dancing with Michael. Micky would hug him to the sound of the music, invite him to enjoy life, play and dance along with anything. Or he would jus smile at him, with his hazel-colored eyes lit with true joy, enough to light a whole town.

Both the drummer, with his nearly angelical voice, and the percussionist, with his elegant British accent, made crystal clear all about the honor they felt, in singing the shy westerner poet's compositions to the alternative scene of Malibu.

The young struggling musician didn't need to dream about the loving perfume of a rose, thankful for the caring and nurturing. After his long journey, he left the desert behind, and got to a garden, with three exotic plants that grew taller, flowered and with plenty of fruits, under his tender care and concern. They extended, like the refreshing shade of robust trees, an aura of friendship, mutual comfort and protection in his life.

*********

He didn't want to stay in the TARDIS, with only his own storm of negative thoughts for company. He neither wantes to go out and face aa stranger who would ask nosy questions.

Even so, there were undeniable magnetism and empathy in that strange's music. That juvenile, but deep voice could be the voice of someone who knew him as well as his own tormented conscience. The poetry of the song felt like composed at his request.

A poetry that was worthy of being heard live, carried throught the nearly cold sea air, instead of filtered by the cameras and scanners of the console.

Once out on the beach, he leaned on some rocks, away enough to avoid any contact, close enough for his accurate hearing catch every letter and every note.

Loneliness and sorrow suffocated the memory of experiencing true love. However, in the middle of the torment, immeasurable as earth after the catastrophe, a flower grew. A rose, a little, brief, fragile life. But also the unforgettable symbol of a kind, giving and restoring feeling.

Lonely hope, wandering endlessly on the dephts of the conscience of the exhausted, the defeated, who traveled aimlessly through the Universe.

Though, her courage and kindness could save him, regenerate him, more than the stubborn nature of his cells ever could, when they gave him a new body and personality, as it happened during his past ten deaths.

So he left the slumbering beach, and the solitaire singer who haunted it, yodeling like a mystic figure howling to the moon, before going back into his box, and setting the coordinates to that exact moment.

If she'd decline again, he'd go away. She would be lost, along with his sanity, drown into uncountable billions of bittersweet recallings.

If she accepted, he'd be honoured for travelling with her. It would be the only and best way of sharing the rest of his life with her, the perfect silent, yet meaningful gesture of his love and gratitude towards her.

Exactly like the person in the song, the Doctor would be saved by a Rose.

[End Notes]

1. The official explanation for poor 9's recovery after being "dumped" by Rose is one of the chapters of the wonderful collection of short tales 12 Doctors, 12 Stories. (Brazilian Edition: Rio de Janeiro: Rocco, 2015). If you haven't read the book and don't like spoilers, please, skip to the next note.

The 9th Doctor's short story consists of a nice trip to the ancient Babylon, where he finds his next temporary companion. She's not human, though. But, throughout the text, it's easy to feel how irrelevant this was to the Doctor, and how he was the only one who actually treated her like an actual person. They chat and pour their souls out to each other, and she becomes a cute protector of his, and gives him a lot of advices.

2. A shameless transposition of some verses from the song Auntie's Municipal Court, composed by Mike, for the band's fifth studio album, The Birds, The Bees & The Monkees.

3. The found family unit, drawn together before the band and the TV series, and Mike's chronic lack of confidence due to his voice, are headcanons taken from other authors in the fandom, @nezclaw and @averyextraordinaryscene, from Tumblr, also @Lisa_Boon1966, at AO3.

Like lots of other headcanons, these tales have a certain touch of truth. One of the comic/ narrative resources that was repeated throughout the whole series is poor Mike's "hillbilly twang".

This "exotic drawl" could probably be the final "proof" to make the executive producer in charge of the show, Don Kirschner, dismiss all of the guitarist's compositions, and his voice as well, jeering at them and calling them, with his most delicate words, "non-comercial".

Michael even denied, for decades, that he ever sang or composed certain songs in the show's OST, until someone who worked at Rhino dug out some old recordings from the 1960s, to be used at the remasterization of The Monkees' discography. And this blessed person sent him a copy of the demo version of the song The Girl I Knew Somewhere.

It's easy to imagine the fictitious personality of this young man suffering under prejudice and hostility, just for being unable to sound like the singers from the "big city", and developing the unbreakable belief that nobody would ever want to hear him. :(

Thank heavens that his adoptive children convinced him about the contrary - which was the truth!

#fanfiction #Doctor Who #The Monkees #Doctor Nez #crossover #my fics #fanfictions in English #The Last Rose

12 notes · View notes

itshigh-boop · 7 years

Note

Greetings! May I request a fic with Writing Prompt 111 about HanMei? (Mei seeing and reacting to Hanzo’s Ultimate for the first time?)

You sure can! I’m sorry if I went a lil overboard with this - but I really liked the idea and got carried away! Either way, I hope you like it and thank you for requesting HanMei!! I love this pairing so much ❄💙❄– ( Prompt 111: “ You have… Superpowers? ” )Getting to Lijiang from Antarctica had been such a long and arduous trip, the climatologist barely had the energy to run when she found out she was being pursued. Making use of her new invention, she made it as far as she did by mostly creating icy barriers and patches of slippery footing in their wake to deter them from trailing her. “Ha!” she smiled triumphantly as she turned and aimed, creating an extremely well-timed, thick and curved wall of ice that intercepted what could have very well been an opportunity for them to grab her. Mei-Ling pointed her blaster once more, considering creating another layer to her barrier. Lifting the contraption, she pressed the trigger mechanism, only to feel it shake her in hands with a loud rattle. “Ai ya!” The climatologist shook her creation, hoping that it would still have a bit of life left. However, a glance down at the fuel meter quickly let her know that her last icy wall was the result of her last fuel reserves. The telltale sound of cracking ice alerted her to how much time she had left before her barrier would shatter and allow her pursuers to continue. With a frustrated whine, Mei-Ling placed the blaster back into its makeshift sheath at her hip and turned to begin running again.“Snowball,” she panted as she ran, each heavy pound of her feet against the ground sending her closer to the eventual crash she’d experience when she no longer had the energy to spare. “Go. Please. You know the message I recorded with you? The coordinates I had you download?” When she received the affirmative digitized chatter from her companion, she nodded. “Good…no matter what…you must get to Winston…pass him the data we’ve collected…we need…to…”“She’s over here!”Mei-Ling grit her teeth, urging herself to run faster, if not just to give Snowball a chance to leave the area safely. She turned a sharp corner and into a dark sidestreet, hoping to make as many detours as possible. She rounded corner after corner until eventually finding herself face to face with a tall, cement-brick wall, the crude and chipped graffiti mocking her helpless situation.The little droid floated out of his spot on her empty fuel tank, hovering before her. What she took as a sad noise and the droop of his ‘eyes’, Mei gently stroked her thumbs over Snowball’s visor. “You’re my only hope now, Snowball.” She ushered the droid to float toward the sky. “Go!” she whispered, nodding to him once and then turned around as the thuds of combat boots swarmed her senses. “What is that you want from me?” Mei-Ling asked as she turned, managing to muster up the courage to sound and look angry with the unwanted guests. “You’re either a valuable research asset or a dangerous liability, Zhou. You’ve got two choices: come quietly, or you can die here.”Mei-Ling blinked away the hot tears that sprang to her cinnamon colored eyes. This was unfair. Even now, she looked down at the empty fuel canister for her blaster, hoping for some kind of miracle. “I don’t know who you are but I have something I must do.” Her fingers clenched around the blaster as she glared at the soldiers from beneath her lashes. “And I won’t stop until it’s done.” With a simple nod from one of the chasers, all their weapons were now focused on her. “I’m sorry to hear that. But you were in Overwatch - you knew the risks.” I did know, Mei-Ling thought. hoping that Snowball was safely on his way to wherever from Winston had made his broadcast. This was the least she could do for the world - to ensure that her friends’ deaths weren’t in vain. She closed her eyes tight and with a shaking sigh, wondered if she’d be reunited with her teammates in just a few moments. The flurry of bullets that she expected never came. It was both an instant and an eternity passing as a new pair of footsteps reached her ears. There were confused and angry shouts and the once still evening breeze suddenly picked up in intensity, tossing her hair about. Faint sparks of electricity seemed to dance around, peppering at her cheeks and rousing her to open her eyes. Just as she did, a blue glow filled her vision. Then, a powerful and proud shout, in a language not of her homeland resonated off the narrow walls of the alleyway. “Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!”Mei-Ling felt more than heard the shaking roar that followed the shout. Dragons had always been an important symbol of power and luck with her people. To actually see one (no, two), even the ever positive and creative Mei-Ling Zhou was questioning her remaining sanity. The dragons were transparent but radiated a fierce blue light, their scales shimmering like precious gems and their entire aura sparked. Yet, as their maws gaped open, as if to swallow anything in their path, Mei-Ling felt safe in their wake. Their brilliant light consumed the soldiers, and as they approached, their bodies passed through her body, filling with her a rush of energy from her temples down to her very toes. The raw power she’d seemingly only been touched with was enough to lift the breath from her throat. Mei-Ling sank to her knees, the bout of energy from earlier instantaneously gone. When the winds had died down and the alleyway became dark and dingy again, she dared to open her eyes. “Mei…?” came the digital voice of Snowball, flaring his voice box with an intonation of concern. “Snowball?” A relieved laugh escaped Mei-Ling’s lips and she smiled as the droid chirped, nudging her cheek affectionately. “How are you here? I thought you left…”Footsteps approaching her had Mei-Ling on her guard, quickly lifting her head, only to find that the soldiers were all now strewn about, seemingly unconscious. Stepping over their bodies was a man who, in her very honest opinion, appeared no less intimidating than the unfriendly men who’d chased her down…but there was a calm on his face - sharp features capturing Mei-Ling’s attention and that had her feeling not so on edge as before. The most eye-catching thing about him being the large bow he held in his hands as he approached. When he was close enough, he leaned down, offering a gloved hand to her. “Are you alright?” he spoke in English, though with a slight accent.It was much better than her own, anyway. Mei-Ling blinked and eventually took his hand. “Uh…I am fine. Xiè xie…” Bringing her hands up to fix her glasses, she swallowed the small lump in her throat. “Who are you?” she finally asked. “And how did you manage to find me?”The stranger’s shoulders tensed, eyes glancing to the side. “I am no one important. I was simply passing by the area when your droid found me and alerted me to your situation.” “My droid?” she repeated, turning to look at Snowball who flashed the words ‘danger’, ‘help’, and ‘follow’ across his visor in red lettering. Mei-Ling felt a small rush of heat rise to her cheeks in a bit of shame. To think she was so ready to just have it all end when Snowball was trying to save her. “I see. You didn’t have to follow him…but I thank you.” She inclined her head and back slightly in her gratitude, designating someone having saved her from certain doom as worth a bow.“Ah, please,” the man stated. “You do not have to. I was simply…helping someone in need,” he finished awkwardly. “In any case, you are unharmed and that is what matters.” That seemed to be the end of the conversation. However, there was a pressing issue that forced her to speak. “Ah, I know this may sound strange but please, I must know!”She took his blank stare as permission to continue. Biting her lip, she hoped that this question would not sound as nearly as foolish and insane as it did in her head. “Do you…you have superpowers?” Had the curiosity not been burning something fierce, Mei-Ling would have giggled at the sight of his serious expression fall into one of confusion. “Super…powers?” the man questioned. Mei-Ling fiddled with her glasses once more. “It’s just…I may just be hallucinating, but I could’ve sworn I saw…dragons. Two blue dragons, looking like they came from you after you shouted.” Her brown eyes scanned the area, refusing to look at his face as she continued. “I am a scientist and I just cannot think of any sort of explanation for what I saw.”A few moments of silence and her savior let out an exhale through his nose, shoulders slumping. “It would be a difficult thing to explain, one that I am not truly comfortable discussing with a stranger,” he admitted. “But I assure you…I do not have…superpowers…” The word appeared to physically cause him tension as it left his lips and she couldn’t help the tiniest grin that graced her features. Instead of laughing, however, she rubbed at one of her eyes, suddenly extremely tired. “Well, even if you don’t have super powers,” Mei-Ling began, only now realizing how silly her question was. “You still saved my life.” Contemplating her next inquiry, she shrugged her shoulders, smiling. “Would it be too much to ask for your name?” Surely he could do at least that? The last time she’d held a conversation this long was…technically nine years ago. No matter how strange the circumstances, her desire for a connection, even if temporary, was intense. He appeared to finally relent. “Hanzo,” was all that he answered with. “Hanzo…” Mei-Ling repeated, trying her best to say his name as intended without her own accent. “My name is Zhou Mei-Ling.”Hanzo nodded, glancing over his shoulder and then looking down at her. “Would you like me to escort you back toward the markets, Miss Zhou?”“I would like nothing better. Come on, Snowball,” she called to her droid companion who floated gently along with the pair as they stepped over the bodies of the mercenaries and walked out of the alleyway. “Hanzo,” Mei-Ling repeated as they walked, causing him to look at her in question. “I will remember this moment,” she smiled at him.“Hm.”

#hanmei #hanzo x mei #mei x hanzo #my writing #request

57 notes · View notes

greg38mcall · 5 years

Text

DIY Sliding Closet Door

A while back we did a lot of work on our teen boy's bedroom closet which included widening the doorway to allow for a large, built-in storage unit. His room isn't all that large or "roomy", so maximizing his closet to allow for both drawer and hanging storage was extremely important and has proven to be a great way to give him more space for reading, working on projects, having sleepovers, and doing his homework. We knew there were so many benefits to widening the doorway to his closet, but then the problem solving began in terms of how to cover it all back up.

There was a bit of planning and troubleshooting and decision making that went on with this project. Here are a few of the things we had to work through: To keep the trim or not? That was the question. I decided that if we kept the trim around the door, that it ultimately should be completely covered by the door when it was pulled closed. But that would also increase the size of the door by about 4-5 inches in width, and the door was already measuring pretty large. The alternative was to remove the trim, but that would require more drywall work and some fussy refinishing. Before making a quick decision, we thought we would install the rail to get a good idea of how far away from the wall the door would hang, and if the trim would interfere with it at all. Bryan easily had the rail installed in less than an hour and didn't even call me in to help (using the included installation instructions). Yay Bryan! Except I was instantly confused by the placement of the rail. He used the large bolts that came with the rail kit and installed them directly into the wall studs. Which made complete sense. But, this meant that the rail didn't go all the way to the corner of the room (it was just an inch or two short). If you want to be extremely specific about the rail placement, then you actually need to install a ledger board into the studs first, and then the rail can be installed anywhere into the ledger. Bryan knew I didn't want to use a ledger board if I could help it, so he just assumed going into the studs was the answer. But then I wasn't sure if I loved that the hardware didn't land exactly into the corner. And that led to another decision to make. We now knew that the door would hang out enough to clear the trim, so the trim was going to stay. But before making any more decisions regarding the rail placement/ledger board, I wanted to construct the door and see it on the rail. The advantage of a ledger board is that it gives you the flexibility to install the rail hardware wherever you would like. It also allows the door to hang even further away from the wall/trim. The disadvantage is that it is another distracting element that adds to the entire setup (although painting the board the color of the wall would minimize that). When coming up with the design for the door, I had a couple of inspiration pictures saved that I continuously referenced. This one and this one were my top two favorites. They both had a diagonal design that was trimmed out in a classic style. My son also really liked the design and gave me the thumbs up. With the hardware installed, we now knew how the rail system worked, where we wanted the wheel hardware to attach to the door, and the maximum thickness the door should be. Quick Tip: We taped a couple of pieces of paper together that were scaled to the exact width of the door that we had planned to build. Then we drew the top trim boards based on our measurements and "installed" the paper on the rail with the hardware. This was a GREAT way to visualize how the door would cover the closet door casing and also allowed us to confirm that the boards we were planning on using to trim the face of the door would line up nicely with the hanging hardware. I like to visualize things before completely committing whenever possible. Finally, my last but largest concern that I had was that the large door would be too overwhelming due to the smaller size of his room. The door was going to be just over 4' x 7' and I just didn't know of any other options in terms of closing off that wonderful opening we created. I told myself that sometimes larger things work best in small rooms to create more visual interest and to help balance some of the smaller accessories and knick-knacks. I also figured I could paint the door a similar color to the walls so that the pattern could be the focus, and the color would more or less fade away. Now that we had worked through all of those points, it was finally time to start building that dang door!

4' x 8' x 1/2" mdf board

1" x 2" x 8' primed boards

1" x 4" x 8' primed boards

5/16" x 5 1/2" pine lattice boards

large paint sticks

miter saw

circular saw

wood glue

brad nailer

paintbrush | paint roller

barn door hardware

door pull

cordless drill

speed square

wood putty | sanding block

Because our opening plus trim was over four feet, we talked through a few ways to achieve that width with as little wood as possible (to keep the door from getting too heavy). We began with a 4' x 8' piece of 1/2" thick MDF because the actual dimensions are 49" x 97". If we were to trim out the edges with 1" x 2" boards, then we would be exactly where we needed to be. With that in mind, we thought we would construct something similar to our son's DIY headboard project.

Because the rail was already installed, we had the exact measurements we needed and began by cutting the height of the door accordingly. Then I got to painting. I decided it would be easier to paint the back of the board, and the edges of the top boards, before assembly. I am telling you, doing this first was a major sanity saver later on! It made putting that final coat of paint on the finished door SO MUCH EASIER not having to get my brush down inside of every last groove.

For the diagonal pattern we used 1" x 4" primed boards that we cut to length. What is hard to see is that we drew a couple of pattern lines lightly in pencil to be sure our first few pieces went in exactly where we wanted, as those pieces would set the stage for all of the remaining cuts.

To affix the boards to the MDF, we covered the back of each board in wood glue and used our brad nailer and 1" brad nails.

We used a speed square along the edge to draw our cut line, everything was cut at a 45-degree angle with our miter saw.

While purchasing material and paint, we noticed some extra-large paint stir sticks and thought that they would make for the perfect spacers. And they did!

After we got going, we cut, nailed, cut, nailed, cut, and nailed... All the way until the entire door was covered in diagonal planks.

You may notice a couple of final pieces where the spacing doesn't look right, and that is because those areas were going to be covered by the decorative trim on the face anyway, we just popped boards in for backing. Also above you can see how we trimmed the perimeter of the door with the 1" x 2" boards we purchased. Bryan ended up ripping each one to be exactly flush with the depth of the mdf board plus the diagonal pieces. Again, we added those boards to get the door just wide enough to cover both the closet opening and the closet door casing. This also added a nicely finished edge on each side of the door. To finish off the design, I found some light-weight pine lattice moulding at Home Depot. It was the perfect width to frame out the door and hit the rail wheel hardware juuuuust right.

I know, I know... This is that awkward middle stage where it is hard to see just how amazing it is going to look until it is all painted in the same cohesive color. But first, I had to fill every last nail hole with putty. And then I went over the entire door a second time just to be sure there were no pits. And then a lot of sanding everything nice and smooth.

This step was worth every bit of time it took to really achieve the best finish possible.

The color I went with is Benjamin Moore Wales Gray. I felt like it was just different enough from the walls (Sherwin Williams Nebulous Cloud), and complimented the ceiling (Benjamin Moore Blue Dusk).

Once the door was up, I decided it wasn't worth it to move the rail to the corner of the wall and add a ledger board behind it. The fact the rail stops an inch short isn't all that obvious because the edge of the door goes right into the corner. Plus, the details on the door steal the show!

The rail is able to support up to 225 pounds, and our door came in under that so we could scratch that worry off of the list, and the stoppers on each end are completely adjustable.

Although the door still cleared the trim without a ledger board, we ended up having to inset the bottom bolt of the door hanging hardware into the back of the door to prevent it from rubbing against the white closet door casing. I found the handle hardware on Amazon here. I like that it is substantial and coordinates with all of the other matte black hardware throughout his room.

I put together a little motion shot of the new door opening and closing because we are just so excited to finally have this project checked off of our list!

As far as the organization goes, you can see that it is maintaining nicely! The only change is that all of his clothes have basically doubled in size. Oh! And we actually swapped the bottom shoe tray with a drawer we took out of our pantry cabinet (hoping to share more about that soon). We like that the drawer hides the shoes (yet they can still breathe), and that it can serve a different purpose all together down the road. You can read every last detail about his closet organization here.

Here is a shot of the door closed. It does leave a blank space to the left and I haven't decided if I want to do anything there yet (we could add something up to the thickness of the door trim without any issues, but are OK just leaving it for now). The color of the door works really great with everything else he has going on, and although the door is quite large, we all love the addition and interest it has added to the room.

I have one more big project I want to take on in this room (a DIY headboard), and then it will be FINISHED. Oh, what a feeling!

!function(w,i,d,g,e,t){d.getElementById(i)||(element=d.createElement(t),element.id=i,element.src="https://widgets.rewardstyle.com"+e,d.body.appendChild(element)),w.hasOwnProperty(g)===!0&&"complete"===d.readyState&&w[g].init()}(window,"shopthepost-script",document,"__stp","/js/shopthepost.js","script")

JavaScript is currently disabled in this browser. Reactivate it to view this content.

You can catch up on our previous teen bedroom posts below:

Teen Boy Closet Planning

Patching the Walls and Carpet

Bedroom Progress: A Blank Slate

Quick & Easy DIY Drawer Organizers

Teen Workspace with DIY Wall Shelf

Organized Teen Closet w/IKEA PAX System

** Post Contains Affiliate Links **

from IHeart Organizing http://www.iheartorganizing.com/2020/01/diy-sliding-closet-door.html

0 notes

blogsteveclark12 · 5 years

Text

How to Create a Minimalist Wardrobe for Your Kids

Do you feel your kids have too many clothes? If so, join the club.

Many parents feel overwhelmed by their children’s clothing. There’s the endless laundry, as well as the expense of buying and maintaining all those outfits. Kids also feel overwhelmed when they have too many clothes. It’s harder for them to decide what to wear, and this indecision can limit their ability to get dressed on time.

These are just some of the reasons why more parents are choosing to create a minimalist wardrobe for their kids. In most cases, this means paring down their children’s clothing to what can fit in a suitcase, or even half of a small suitcase. Are they crazy? Enlightened? Or a bit of both?

Minimal wardrobes, or capsule wardrobes as they’re also called, provide a number of benefits. They’re less expensive to maintain, you save money by not buying tons of clothes, and they drastically simplify the “getting dressed” routine for kids. Here’s a look at the benefits of creating a minimalist wardrobe for your kids, and how to do it.

The Benefits of Creating a Minimalist Kids’ Wardrobe

There’s a good reason why Mark Zuckerberg and Barack Obama stick to a very basic wardrobe; they don’t want to have to think about what to wear because they have more important things to focus on. Capsule wardrobes are all the rage right now, but many parents don’t think about creating one for their kids. However, there are several benefits to going this route.

1. You Save Money

By far the biggest benefit of creating a minimalist wardrobe for your kids is that it saves money. Once you go through the work of paring down their clothes, you’ll be less tempted to buy that cute shirt at Target or those cheap pants on markdown at Walmart. You’ll know that, right now, your kids have what they need. When they outgrow what they have, or their needs change, then it’s time to invest in something new – but not before.

2. There Might Be Less Laundry Overall

If your kids don’t have an endless number of t-shirts to dirty up, they’re more likely to take care of what they have. If a minor spill or stain happens, you’re more likely to spot-clean it, which is often all that’s needed, instead of throwing it in the washing machine and choosing something else.

That said, with a minimalist wardrobe, you do have to wash the clothes your kids have more frequently. However, some parents find that overall, they do less laundry when their children have a limited amount of clothing. What you definitely will avoid is having to spend your whole weekend doing load after load of laundry. You’ll likely do several small loads during the week, which, for many parents, is more manageable and less stressful.

3. There’s Less Clutter

How many times have you walked into your child’s room and groaned at the all clothes on the floor? The fewer clothes you keep on hand, the less likely your kids are to make a mess with them. And if they do, it’s easier for them to pick it up.

Having fewer clothes can also teach your children to value what they have. With some guidance from you, they’ll learn to respect their clothing and put each piece away where it belongs.

4. It’s Better for the Environment

Cheap, abundant clothing might be easy on your budget, but it exacts a heavy price on the environment and communities around the world.

First, cheap clothing wears out quickly, forcing you to buy more. And brands continuously come out with new styles, graphics, and designs that make you want to buy more. This constant consumption has an enormous impact on the environment. A report by the Ellen MacArthur Foundation found that the textile industry generates more greenhouse gas emissions than aviation and international shipping combined. In 2015, 98 million tons of oil was used to produce clothing; by 2050, it’s estimated that 300 million tons of oil per year will be needed to keep up with demand. And few of these clothes are repurposed. According to The Atlantic, 85% of used clothing winds up in landfills.

Communities are also negatively affected by cheap clothing because these items are made in sweatshop factories that pay workers the bare minimum for their time. These workers often work long hours in dangerous conditions to earn enough to feed their families.

When you purchase fewer clothes – or, even better, used clothes – you step out of the constant cycle of consumption. You lower your carbon footprint and show your kids that they don’t need something new to feel good about themselves.

5. Kids Are Empowered

When you create a minimalist wardrobe, every piece works with every other piece. This eliminates power struggles over what to wear, and your kids will feel more empowered to choose their own outfits and dress themselves. If your mornings are a hectic race to get out the door on time, simplifying this daily routine can be a huge sanity-saver.

A minimalist wardrobe also makes it easy for kids to put clothes away when they’re clean. Getting kids involved in household chores is a great way to build their self-esteem and make them feel like they’re contributing in a meaningful way.

How Our Clothing Multiplies

I have two preschoolers, and at home, we practice minimalism with our kids. They only have a few toys out at a time, and these are primarily building blocks and cars. For us, it works, and our boys enjoy having limited play options because it forces them to use their imaginations more.

But clothes are a real problem. Like many families, our boys have way too many shirts, pants, and coats. These have to be sorted, washed, and put away on a daily basis. It’s an overwhelming chore, and it’s expensive because we’re constantly doing laundry.

Like many parents, I always assumed that kids needed lots of clothes. After all, the clothes they have get stained, smeared with glitter glue, and ripped from sliding on concrete or dirt on a daily basis. They need lots of clothes because they’re hard on them – right?

Well, in theory. And that’s where the hoarding mentality can enter the picture. Friends give you sacks of hand-me-downs, well-meaning grandparents buy expensive sweaters for birthdays and holidays, you find some great deals at the thrift store, and it all gets stuffed into drawers and closets “just in case they need it.” Within a couple of years, you could open up your own children’s consignment shop from everything you have socked away.

I feel your pain and frustration because I’ve been there. Yes, we were trying for minimalism, but when it came to clothes, there wasn’t one more inch to spare in our kids’ drawers. The situation had gotten way out of hand, and I realized things had to go – not just one or two things, but most of them. So I set out to create a minimalist wardrobe for a 3- and 4-year-old. After all, I have a capsule wardrobe, so why couldn’t my kids?

Tips for Creating a Minimalist Wardrobe for Your Kids

If you’re ready to give a minimalist kids’ wardrobe a try, here’s how to get started.

1. Determine How Many Clothes They Really Need

The first step on any journey is often the hardest, and this one is no different. You have to determine how many clothes your kids actually need. There are a couple of ways to do this.

Strategy 1: Pull Favorites

One easy way to start is to pull out all the clothes your kids wear on a consistent basis. If your kids are like mine, they wear the same favorite shirts and pants week after week. Set these aside and look at them closely. How many days of outfits can you get out of just these items?

If your kids have enough favorite shirts and pants to get through four or five days, and these clothes look reasonably well together, then this might be all you need to do. If you attend religious services or need dress clothes for special events, keep an outfit or two for these occasions and let the rest go.

Strategy 2: Make a List

A more in-depth approach is to make a list of how many clothes you think your kids need and declutter based on that list. This is the approach I took, and it worked well. The list I created for my boys, for a fall wardrobe, looked like this:

4 pairs of pajamas

4 pairs of pants

2 pairs of shorts

6 short-sleeved shirts

2 sweatshirts

2 long-sleeved shirts

1 light jacket

1 rain jacket

1 pair of sneakers

1 pair of rain boots

6 pairs of underwear

6 pairs of socks

This amount of clothing will get us through at least four days, accounting for spills or other mishaps, before we need to do laundry.

Keep in mind that your list might look completely different depending on the age of your children, their extracurricular activities, and how long you want to go before you need to do laundry. Some families who have taken a minimalist approach to their kids’ clothing don’t mind only having a three-day supply on hand, while others want to be able to go a week or more before they do a load. Whatever works for you is the right approach.

And, of course, be sure to put aside their favorites when you start choosing which clothing to keep.

2. Create Outfits

The trick to creating a minimalist wardrobe is that, ideally, each piece should work with every other piece. Balance your kids’ favorites with other pieces that will help create a more complete, seasonally appropriate wardrobe.

One trick to do this is to keep a few of their favorite items and fill in the rest with simple basics that all work well together. For example, the children’s clothing company Primary is a favorite with many minimalist parents because they make gender-neutral, simple, quality clothing without logos, graphics, slogans, sequins, or anything else that often adorns children’s clothing. Colors are basic and bright, and it’s easy to build an entire wardrobe full of coordinated pieces because you can shop by color.

Choose a color palette and stick to it. The goal here isn’t to go on an online shopping spree and buy a whole new wardrobe for your kids, but you can use this concept during the decluttering process. Make sure that most, if not all, of the shirts can be worn with most, if not all, of the pants.

Tip: Think carefully before you decide to use white in your color palette. Yes, white looks great, but it stains easily. White also looks dingy quickly when it’s washed with other colors, which means more sorting and additional loads. If you’re up for it, great. If not, skip white and go with an easier-to-maintain color.

3. Keep the Extras for at Least a Month

Once you’ve pulled out all the clothes you don’t want to keep, put them in a “donate” bag and stash it in the garage for at least a month.

This window of time will give you a chance to see how well your trimmed-down wardrobe is working. If, throughout the month, you find there are still items your kids aren’t wearing, move those to the donate bag. If you get frustrated by having to do too much laundry, you might need to add some additional items by pulling a few out of the donate bag.

Tips for Maintaining a Minimal Kids’ Wardrobe

Once you have a working minimalist wardrobe, here’s how to maintain it moving forward.

1. Only Buy Clothes Your Kids Will Want to Wear

I live in jeans and frequently buy them for my boys because I feel they should love them too. The problem is that they hate jeans; they favor soft slacks and sweatpants. So every day when we got ready for school, they pushed all the jeans aside to find the pants they really wanted to wear. It was a waste of time, a waste of money, and a waste of space. When I minimized their wardrobe, I donated the jeans.

Only buy clothing you know your kids will want to wear. It will save money and tension down the road.

2. Keep an Active Donate Box in the Laundry Room

Sometimes, kids grow so fast that what fit them yesterday doesn’t fit today, so keep a box or bag in the laundry room for donations. When you notice that your kids have outgrown something, wash it and immediately put in the donate box. This way, you don’t have to keep dealing with that item in their drawers or closet, and you’ll avoid dropping them off at school realizing that those “clam diggers” are supposed to be pants.

3. Buy Fewer, Higher-Quality Items

The biggest benefit of buying clothes at Walmart or Target is that they’re cheap; you can pick up a pair of cotton pants for $4.50 or a shirt for $3.50 and call it a day. The problem is that these clothes wear out fast.

When you transition to a minimalist wardrobe, you’ll be buying fewer clothes. However, you’ll be washing those clothes more frequently, so if the clothing is cheaply made, it won’t last through the season.

When you do have to buy a new piece for your child, it can pay off to buy a higher-quality item, especially if there are younger siblings who can benefit from the hand-me-down. Well-made clothes will last through the wear-and-tear of endless washings and still look great when they’re passed on to a brother or sister. In the end, it’s a better investment than frequently buying cheaply made clothing.

4. Talk to Family About Your Decision to Go Minimal

My parents love buying clothes for my kids, which is a big reason why our clothing situation got so out of hand. I appreciate their generosity, but they often bought clothes the boys didn’t like and wouldn’t wear. And because they were gifts, I felt I had to keep these clothes around.

Many families are in the same situation. That’s why it’s so important to talk to your relatives about your decision to maintain a minimal wardrobe for your kids. Explain why you’ve made the switch and give them options to continue giving if they want to. For example, ask that they only buy a limited number of items at holidays or birthdays, and ask for specific colors or pieces. If you want to create a wardrobe using a single source, such as Primary, ask for clothing gifts from that retailer.

Final Word

If you scour Google Images or Pinterest, you might think it would cost a fortune to create a capsule wardrobe for your kids. But it doesn’t have to cost anything at all. Creating a minimal wardrobe is all about being intentional about the clothing you want to keep and limiting choices for your kids so they have the freedom and ability to take ownership of what they wear.

So far, creating a more minimal wardrobe for my kids has been a liberating experience. I don’t have to sift through clothes I can’t stand, they’re more empowered to choose their own outfits and get dressed, and I’m doing a lot less laundry. It’s also made clothes shopping so much easier. I have a basic color palette I stick to, I avoid buying shirts with graphics on them, and I only pick up something new when I know they really need it.

You can find just about anything you’re looking for at thrift shops in Panama City Beach, FL. You can find limited edition collectibles, retro electronics and even books signed by your favorite authors in some cases. For more just drop your comments.

0 notes

joannaarobinson · 7 years

Text

Day in the Life | Necoya Tyson

Welcome to our “Day in the Life” series! We feature wedding and event planners from around the world with many different levels of experience. If you would like to be featured, download our questionnaire here and email your responses and photos to [email protected]. We are excited to feature Virginia wedding planner Necoya Tyson today!

Name: Necoya L. Tyson

Business Name & Location: All About You Event Management, LLC. Alexandria, VA

Years Working in the Event Industry: 13

Years Owning Your Event Planning Business: 8

Website: www.aayouevents.com

Business Facebook Page: All About You Event Management

Instagram: @aayouevents

What is your typical day like?

My day usually starts at 6:00 am. I have a little one (he’s 5 years old and just started kindergarten), so I try to get up early and get a head start to the day before he wakes up.

I start my day by finding an inspirational or funny quote that I can use throughout the day. Most times I post it to my personal social media pages to either motivate others or make them laugh. I believe that laughter is such an important part of one’s life! Once I do that, I look at my to-do list for the day and decide what should be tackled first, by order of importance/event.

My time is split between my home office and my office in Old Town Alexandria. I also do contract work for an association in Arlington, VA, so sometimes I’m there as well.

No matter where I am, I make sure to take some sort of break; even if it’s for only 15 minutes. Whether it’s to eat, take a walk, pray/meditate, or just BREATHE. Those of us in the events industry are always on the go and have a tendency to work nonstop until we’re too exhausted or burnt out. But we have to remember that those breaks are necessary for our sanity.

My afternoons are spent reviewing contracts (or negotiating contracts), completing timelines or set up documents and really just making sure that things are running smoothly and in order. Afternoons are also spent catching up on emails, voicemails and making follow up phone calls with clients or vendors.

Most days end around 6:00 pm and home by 7:00 (don’t you just love that Northern VA/DC traffic?) Unless there’s a happy hour with my name on it! But now that my son is in school, I make it a priority to be home in a timely manner so that he can tell me about his day and I can be there to read his bedtime story and put him to bed.

Bow Tie Photo

How did you get started in the industry?

I started working in the events industry as soon as I graduated from college. My first job was for an association in Durham, NC where I worked as a Community Development Coordinator. In that role, I was responsible for planning the company’s 10 Year Anniversary celebration and I’ve been hooked ever since.

I currently hold two designations: CEM (Certified in Exhibition Management) and CGMP (Certified Government Meeting Professional). I’m also a CEM faculty member, where I teach CEM courses to those in the exhibitions & events industry.

I started my business in 2009 when the company that I worked for laid off several people. My first thought was that my job (meetings & exhibits manager) is one that could easily be outsourced….to someone just like me (a contractor)! So I pulled out all of the “How to Start an Event Planning Business” books that I’d purchased from Barnes & Noble years prior, and the rest is history. I’ve always had a love for event planning and design. So it was an easy segue from corporate events to weddings. For me, it’s all about the logistics.

Bow Tie Photo

What inspires you?

Some great sources of inspiration for me: WeddingWire and Style Me Pretty. I love their websites and blogs. Very informative and I share a lot of information from them with my clients.

Target is my favorite store. Sometimes I go there just go get ideas on ways to set up a unique seating area for an event/client. Or to see what color palettes go well together.

I love the water. So any place near a lake, ocean, creek, river, etc. makes me happy and gives me great ideas. There’s a creek that flows through the back of my condo building and some days I’ll just bring my laptop to the back porch and work there while listening to the sounds of the water flowing.

I also love teaching/mentoring those who are just starting out in the business. I enjoy sharing my experiences with the hopes that those that are up-and-coming planners can learn something from my successes as well as my mistakes.

What are your favorite online resources for your business?

The Knot, Wedding Wire, Virginia Bride Magazine, and of course The Planners Lounge.

Bow Tie Photo

Aside from wedding and event planning, how do you spend your time?

Reading is my favorite pastime. I own hundreds of books from self-help, to fiction, to murder mystery. I also enjoy writing in my journal. It calms me and puts things into perspective. Most of my free time is spent with my family when I’m home.

And when I’m not traveling for work/business, I’ll enjoy an extended nap. LOL!

Necoya, thank you so much for taking the time to share your story and a day in your life. If you are an event planner and would like to be featured, download our questionnaire today and email it to us along with a photo. If you aren’t sure about being featured, take a few minutes to read how it can help your business.

SaveSave

SaveSaveSaveSave

SaveSave

from Event Planning Essentials http://plannerslounge.com/day-in-the-life-necoya-tyson/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

#event organizer

0 notes

mstrangebird · 7 years

Text

2017 wrapped up (a compilation of very long messed up stories)

2017 was a thing.

The truth is... I felt like doing shit the whole year. I’m sorry to myself. I was like floating and doing nothing and having no goals and super confused.

But, I learned something too.

And I experienced something new.

CHOIR LIFE// 2017 was kinda huge to my choir life. Since the first time that I did this wrapped up in 2015 to 2016, I always talked about choir bcs y’know, this surely was a part of me. I was always there since the first time I entered college life back in 2014. But in this year, it was different; a whole new different level. I was a coordinator or simply call it “leader” of a group (a division) and of course, the responsibility was higher and bigger than before. I might be also a coordinator last year but it was just for an event not a whole organization. So, yeah, it was new for me. I got this work plan and also needed to lead my staff so they would land safely at the end of year –Musang, which is Musyawarah Anggota, it is like a meeting in the end of term and an annual report should be made in order to be presented in front of the audiences. The thing is... I think I DID GOOD. Man, I’m serious by the term good. But yeah, dunno, but serious. That Musang thingy, Thank God, I could pass it. Thank you to you my hilarious staff, Amel, Ovi, Tami and Tasya. You guys were doing amazing and I’m proud of it. I’m so happy to work with you. I was a single fighter bcs you were all my juniors that hadn’t been in this division before but you were helpful. Once again, thank you. Next, I only joined one competition in this year (there should be 2) bcs y’know financial problem but I was okay tho bcs I felt like the atmosphere was already different and to be honest, I didn’t really like. For the competition I joined, two of my close friends didn’t join and that was breaking my heart bcs I felt like all alone but Thank God, there were still some other friends that I could lean on. What did I feel back in September? I felt awful. It was awful. We came to the phase where we didn’t get what we wanted, like in 2015. It was whoah, I can’t handle the sadness. It was like getting a very serious broken heart. I cried a lot that time. But yeah, we also learned that everything needs hard works, and maybe for that time, we didn’t work that hard; we didn’t put the souls in every move we took; we didn’t mean every struggle we did. Then, in this organization, us the people in it, didn’t get along fast. But surprisingly, in the end, we are fine. Well you know, everything needs time. By the way, I was really touched by my own staff that suddenly came to me when Musang ended and they cried. I never thought that I would get so much affection from them. Again, it was heart-warming and so new to me. Thank you for the love you give, I am so happy. Ah, I should not forget about this one: Thank you to my CLASSYFOURTEEN for being the reason I stay and struggle—you guys mean so much to me, it’s been a honor to work with you, smartass people. Last, thank you, Vocalista Paradisso. Bcs of you, I learned a lot about organization life, about facing different kind of person. I’m grateful to be part of you. WE HAD ACHIEVED MORE!

COLLEGE LIFE// First, let me laugh at myself. HAH! Okay, let’s continue, shall we? This year, there was only 1 semester that I should attend formally, which was the 6th one. It was maybe started in February and ended around June or July, I forget. AND THAT WAS THE HARDEST SEMESTER IN MY LIFE. I still remember every day and every month how real the struggle was. Doing the Seminar HI project was the craziest point in my life. I spent so much energy and time—also, my sanity was being tested too. I was lack of sleep. I lose my appetite. I spent too many hours in coffee shop—i drank 2-3 cups a day. I even sometimes didn’t attend the class just because I hadn’t done the task yet. Everything felt like in a rush. Moreover, the other subjects were just alike. All the debates, the simulation, the paper, the presentation, oh man, the bag under my eyes were truly getting darker. But thank God, I made it to the next semester. The journey was hahahahah I don’t know what to say. But I am so glad that I could pass it and even I got compliment on my Seminar HI proposal. The only thing that I care in this semester was I AM FINE. I AM STILL FINE. Next on the 7th semester. There was no formal class. I only took skripsi or thesis and KKN or student community service. The truth is... I was wasting my time with sleeping, playing phone and hanging out. Ah also rehearsing for the competition. My skripsi is a big ZERO. So yeah, I won’t talk about it. Well, I don’t want it too. Too sensitive. Then, there was a time when me and my friends were busy about KKN thingy like registering and meeting with other gals, but yeah. We did the survey to the location like few times. I was scared with KKN just by the idea of it. if you read the former post in this blog, the you will know how scared I was. Some bad thoughts just came to my head and made me don’t wanna go. Everytime I talked about this with friends, all the things that came out from my mouth was ranting and whining. My mind seemed to wonder too much and yeah SURPRISINGLY, IT WENT WELL. MOREEEE THAN I EXPECTED IT. I enjoyed it every single day. At the beginning, I kinda lose my appetite but then in like 3 days, it went back. HAHA. I was so happy you know. I met some kids in kindergarten and they were amazing. There was this introvert boy that at first he didn’t want me to get closer but time flied... he was the one who came to me, sat near me and suddenly took my hand. It was so cute you know. And then, the other boy that was so clingy but the laugh was so heart-warming. Gosh. It was a really something new to me. I usually hate kids but for this one, I could make exception. Helping to teach in this kindergarten was such a memorable experience. Then, working together with 9 other guys was a thing too. We lived in one house. We ate breakfast, lunch, dinner together. Even, we cooked! We shared bedroom and bathroom. We did the prayer together. We worked on our work plan together. We laughed together. We went to beach together. Luckily, I got some amazing friends in this group. That is what made the KKN so light and meaningful. Ah yeah, even, we did a senam what is in english, gymnastic? Whatever. Some friends made my ears were familiar to some dangdut song. Shout out to my KKN friends: Shasha, Riqqah, Rachel, Afe, Udin, Irvan, Panji, Syukkron and Sugi. You guys are like family! Thank you for everything, for every single day that we spent! I will always miss the jokes tho. HAHA. This surely would be one of my favourites.// the thing is my college life is a mess. You can conclude it just by reading it. But hey, it’s happy kind of mess. I don’t regret it, even a little part of it. This is the path that I took and I hope that I could do better in 2018. Amen.

FRIENDSHIP LIFE// My 2017 would never be the same if I didn’t have that CLASSYFOURTEEN by my side. This groupie actually is the member of VP 2014. I don’t know but maybe we all have grown up and surprisingly, there is no gang. If we hang out then we hang out together. Like I said, they were the reason to stay in VP and also the reason to hang on till the end of term. They are funny, dirty, smart, and having the very good sense of humor. You can’t ask more because they are just a complete package. To you: Amel, Stella, Shasha, Kezia, Andre, Septi, Viki, Yosgal, Agustin you guys were making my last year in VP colorful. And to you my roomate Dian, ah yeah Febri&Izan, even you were kinda rare to come to the rehearsal, but when you did, it was also giving the new color in our friendship. YOU GUYS ROCK! In 2018, things might be different. We wouldn’t meet regularly like usual. But, I hope we could still hang out together, spend the time at McD together. Thank you guys! Keep the friendship closer and the gang strongert than ever. I love you./ And then, to my college sweethearts, Riqqah, Rachel, and Kiki. I don’t know anymore. All the spirit that you gave meant so much to me. All the tasks were done it was also bcs of your help. I’m so glad that we finally could have this sleepover even it wasn’t unplanned but it was fun, for sure. Riqqah&Rachel... thank you for agreeing to join the KKN team with me. I don’t know any more if there was no you guys. Rachel, my teaching partner in kindergarten, I’m so glad that I know you deeper and better. And Riqqah... the one who knows the good and bad of my story. Thank you for the sleepless nights at McD, pointless conversation about trashy thing, serious talk about current politics situation (and our life too), the hangouts, and everything that I couldn’t remember. But surely, it was soooo good, having a friend that I can talk anything to. GUYS, thank you so much. Every time I write this flashback kind of thing, there are you guys, bcs there is no way that I didn’t mention you. Let’s stay and continue saving each other’s ass. Our final journey has begun. I love you!/ To my boarding house mates, Cicil, Samantha, Feni, and Desi with Rere that moved out, I am sooooo happy to have friends like you. I still remember the surprise you gave for my birthday, and I will always remember that. I’m so glad that I finally could hang out with you to Carrefour near our boarding house. And also, I’m glad that I could spend the day with Samantha. You guys are good mates and neighbours. So Much Love!/ Disa Khasbiya, my highschool friends till now. I AM SUPER GRATEFUL TO HAVE YOU AS MY FRIEND. The typography, the conversation, the little hangout. When I was so down, you were just there and listening to me. When I just accomplished or finished thing that burdened me, you always appreciate it. You always managed time to hang out with me whenever you went home for holiday (unplanned one, even), and for that I appreciated it sooooo much. Gosh. Let’s continue this friendship till we turn grey. Loooooooovelovelove!/ 2017 was yeah a good year for me and my high school friends. At the beginning of year, my birthday actually, I could meet up with Lyna, Oca, Nindy, Ira and have some talks there. Then, I had yeah few times hangout with Disa, also with Oca to some coffee shops. They’re still the same. Oca is still abnormal like usual. Ah yeah, also meeting up with Acha, Ellen, Shella, Disa, Vania, Intan a.k.a cwendol few days before the 2017 ended. It was a sudden plan but we made it. They were just like yesterday in high school. Last, going to Delart 12 with Ira and Dini, we went to coffee shop afterward and there was also Disa joined us. Another fun meeting, eh. I’m so grateful. This was like my hope in the beginning of 2017 that I could at least meet and still be friend with them. And God is always good. Thank you so much./ After all this happy things that I mentioned above, there is this thing that bothers my mind. There is something changing between me and someone used to be with me. How can someone that used to be our rock star becomes someone we don’t know? How can someone change so much till I can’t even recognize? We both used to be a team, partner in crime but suddenly that someone just left... now? We don’t even say hello. It is so weird. And a bit hurt too. What have changed you? What things that you can’t tell? What was happening? What IS happening? To you, if you happen to read this, if you do not explain, then I will not know and understand. I know you are weird, that’s why we became friends at the first place. Not like this, dude... now, there’s so much hatred in my head till it wants to explode. Just tell... I’ll just understand your choice, I’ll move to another step, forgetting. You know me so much that I have friend issue back there. What a shame that you just did the same. Well, the thing that I learned from this one is... people fucking change and sometimes too far. You can’t even chase. People come and go... it could happen to anyone even it’s someone who used to be your partner. Maybe after all, we need to not care too much because it’s possible to make you’re hurt too far.

ABOUT ME// and what about me? The answer is I don’t know too. I can’t recognize anything new from myself... deep within. I am still Ila back in 2016. Even, worse. I tried to apply for a job, well, i didn’t pass the test. Well, I spent too much time listening to Spotify and watching YouTube videos (i ever mentioned on my post before about it). I didn’t read (little fact: maybe I just read 2 books this year). I watched movie in cinema few times, maybe something that I’m proud of bcs there is a progress. And for music discovery... I am the winner! Thank you to Spotify and Lindsey Rempalski (lindseyrem on YouTube) for all the good thing. I listened to many pop, rock, alternative, indie, kind of genre this year. So many bands that I can’t mention. I also enjoyed some local musicians. Lana Del Rey with her new album is blessing me (she’s also my top artist on my Spotify Wrapped). I went to a music event once this year, came to see Payung Teduh and Sheila on 7.

People still see as a happy person. I like that. I hope this is good because that’s the only thing that I can do. Happiness is the only thing that can give to people around me. I believe, we all have the dark part, the problems, the demon inside our heart... if you want to talk about this with me, you need a whole day (well, i whine a lot here, so yeah just track down then you’ll know how annoying my whine is) but... let’s focus on other things... the world is already cruel, the people around us is having their own problems, so why spreading the negativity if you can spread the positivity? They already have a bad day, let’s just cheer them and bring the smile back on the face. Maybe, this is the only good thing that I do this year, eh... but still... Thank You.

My sister got married. I was so sad. I still am. Another new experience happened to me. I can’t describe the feeling bcs it is just too much. It’s like I’m gonna be on my own. 2018 surely is gonna be different and challenging, I guess. Well, congratulations on your wedding, Sis! The only thing that I could do is praying for you to always have a happy life. Thank you so much for being a very good sister all this time. I know I am such an asshole but actually I love you so much.

2017 taught me about “Jalani aja dulu” (maybe “Just Go Ahead” in english). I let things flow. This thing led me to failure, heartbroken, grateful events, new experiences, loss, happiness, and other things. I didn’t have any exact plans, so it drove me to this kind of random and messy situation. I had goals to get achieved, but it was all just bullshit. I wrote down everything that I wanted to do this year, but it turned out to be another hell of shit.

I was so unmotivated in 2017. I didn’t even write properly.

Maybe that’s the problem... I was too comfortable about the concept of let it flow and just go ahead, whatever happens, we think about it later. I’m never in this place before. My vision was dark and my thought was driving nowhere.

Maybe I should change too... I should start to care about my future. I should find things that make me want to keep moving forward.

2017, you were shit.

I felt the happiness. I felt the fun. I felt the heart-warm. I was so happy when I’m with my friends. I kinda could do anything with my friends there. But... I still feel like this. I still feel something is not right in my heart. I still feel like I’m not enough. Sometimes, I feel sad without having reasons. Sometimes, knowing people’s story makes me want to die. I feel so small HAHAHA

Im so screwed.

To you, my ownself, Miladiyah, try harder in 2018, would you?

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2018.

#happy new year #2017 #2018 #story #wrapped up #writing by miladiyah

0 notes