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bon-is-gone · 8 months ago

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Headcanons for ocs?

headcanons? About MY OCS??? OH, HOW I HAVE WAITED FOR THIS DAY

(Also, quick question, does really count as headcanons when it's about your own oc's? I'm still fairly new to headcanons and other stuff like this-)

(Also Also, im writing these while waiting for a splatoon 3 match to start. Okay I'll stop stalling now.)

Kanaro is a BIG fan of anime!(wow, suprising I know :D) her favorite ones are My dress up darling and Inazuma eleven.

Charlotte sleep walks. She once sleep walked to the kitchen and somehow managed to make Mac and cheese. How did she do it? No one knows.

Loid has an older named Joseph (If you've seen my art then you'll know.) If we're talking about him in the slasher band AU, then they just bicker like normal siblings just with a bit more spice. If we're talking about in the non-AU world, then he doesn't even speak to his sibling anymore and they HATE and I mean HATE eachother. (to the point of murder)

Ace is a smoker, so ofcourse he would smell like cigarettes. However, he puts a TON of perfume or deodorant on himself because of that(and its a strong ass perfume too) his most used pack of cigars is Malboro.

Kanaro is interested in becoming an idol. So ofcourse when she searched for Idol animes, the first thing that popped up was oshi no ko. Ace quickly found out thankfully before our cinnamonroll could get traumatized-

The whole entire squad drinks and have different levels of not getting drunk.

Kanaro doesn't actually drink alcohol, she drinks spezi(a German drink which is REALLY good. Recommend it.) And tea.

Ace is the weakest one when drinking. Give him one shot of whiskey and he is gone. When he's drunk he's either knocked the F out, or he's very chilled out and wobbly, usually not even knowing what's happening half the time and just staring at the counter.

Charlotte comes in 2nd place but is very close to Loid. When she's drunk she starts dropping random ass facts about either her band mates or some random people she knows. (even her momma) "Yeah did you know Loids scared of spongebob? *hic*"

Loid is the strongest one. When he's drunk(which is Suprisingly common), he starts speaking French aggressively and starts speaking in a French accent. "Ohoho wouldn't gliding be FASTER?" He says as he proceededs to fall out of a window into a barrel.

Did any of the gang commit crimes? Ofcourse, almost all of them did.

Kanaro didn't commit any crimes(Logically, because how could this 9 year old child commit crimes :) )

Ace committed shoplifting

Charlotte committed driving while under the influence

Loid committed blackmail and scamming people on the internet(not sure exactly what it's called in a professional way-)

Our roommates here have a swear jar that gets filled up in a month. So who swears the most and who the least?

Charlotte swears the least. She either drops an F bomb because she gets pissed off or she hits her toe on a corner of a table (ouch)

Kanaro is the 2nd person to use the least of swear words but will say a few interesting words which she learned from Uncle Loid

Ace is uses a few more curse words then he'd like to admit. Most of the time he tries his best not to curse (especially when children are around, because what if they learn these heinous words? D:), so instead of saying Sh*t, he'll say "Aw man, that really ruffled my feathers :(" or something like that. But, if you read my short comic named *sailor mouth*, then you know when he gets pissed off he starts shooting cuss words like a mini gun lmao

Loid swears the most on a regular basis. He tries to lower his usage of them when he's around kids, but when it's wi1h Kanaro? He just straight up teaches her some new curse words 😭 then he gets scolded by Ace and Charlotte for that

That's all I could think of for now

I will 100% write more headcanons about the daylight roommates in the future

#ask #headcanons #oc #ocs #my ocs #oc headcanons #writing #headcanon #thank you for requesting #and asking #request

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mayhemproduces · 7 months ago

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WAR CHAMBER 3 - PART 4

Almost the entire crowd and the competitors up in the ring had turned their attention to Bayley, after all, our brains are practically hardwired with wrestling tropes at this point, so nobody expects when the spotlight drops on Mei Sugura… especially not the champion herself.

Mei looks around at the referees opening her pod, shaking her head, and shouting to the referees. “No, no, I’m the champion, I come out last! I should come out last!”

The luck of the draw is the luck of the draw, Mei. Riley came out at four two years ago, if she can do it, you can too. Time to get in there and fight!

Mei seems to disagree, however. She immediately grabs the pod door and slams it back shut, yanking the chain from the referee and locking her own pod again! It seems the champ doesn’t enter the match until she’s ready to!

Blade, the woman who Mei stole the MPW Fatales Championship from, marches up to the pod and tries to pull it open, only for Mei to laugh at her face, and flip her off. Blade was practically red in the face, her chance at revenge, one she’s been waiting months for, being ripped away from her by a Mayue of glass and a chain. Blade takes a couple of steps back, as Mei continues to laugh at her, throwing up middle fingers and continuing to mock her old rival…

Until suddenly, in either a fit of rage, or a spark of insanity…

Or maybe, Blade’s just been hanging out with Josh Bishop too much…

BEFORE BLADE CHARGES THE POD, AND LAUNCHES HERSELF THROUGH THE GLASS! Blade explodes through the glass, crashing into Mei, as glass showers both ladies! Holy fuck!

Chants of “Holy Shit! Holy Shit! Holy Shit!” bring the crowd to their feet, and Blade, covered in broken glass, is quick to get to hers, grabbing Mei and throwing her out of the pod, before marching out herself, grabbing Mei, and throwing her back into the ring. Blade follows her in, and tries to lift her up for a German, but Mei grabs a Kendo stick, and swings it behind her shoulder, catching Blade in the face! Blade stumbles back, and Mei gets up, twisting her Kendo Stick around, before catching Blade in the gut with it, dropping Blade down to her knees. Ziggy tries to charge at Mei herself, only to get caught with the Kendo Stick herself! Ziggy falls away, and Mayu tries to charge in herself, only to also eat a Kendo Stick to the face! The champion standing tall at the moment!

All of the sudden, though, there’s a monster behind her, and as the champ turns around, there stands the largest competitor in the match, Ophelia, just kind of smiling at her. Mei rears back and tries to swing the Kendo Stick, but horrifically, Ophelia catches it, almost completely unaffected by the hit, and yanks the kendo stick away, sending it flying. Ophelia then wraps a hand around Mei’s throat, looking for a big chokeslam, but as she throws Mei up in the air, Mei catches her with a knee to the face! Ophelia lets her go and Mei stands on her feet, only for Ophelia to charge her again, Mei ducking a clothesline and sending Ophelia into the corner, Ophelia crashes into the turnbuckles and turns around, only for Mei to jump up, and catch her with a big enziguri to the back of the head! Mei then jumps up and hooks her head, before driving Ophelia down with a big tornado DDT! Mei into the cover, trying to get Ophelia out of here!

1….2… Kickout!

Ophelia stays alive! Mei pulls herself up to her knees, and her eyes lock on Bayley as the timer starts, time for the final competitor!

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

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unscharf-an-den-raendern · 3 years ago

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Dunkel Live Reaction

Let’s go, I finally get to listen to it to after I spend all afternoon at the Global Climate Strike (gotta love those kids. We need to stop making fun of Gen Z, they’re so political and so progressive. I saw a ~13/14-year-old boy with black nail polish and my heart melted a bit. If someone did that when I was at school people would’ve called him a faggot. You go breaking gender roles!)

KFM

Karnickelfickmusik lol

Wissen

It’s something? A typical Farin Song.

Dunkel

Oh nice New Wave/80′s vibes right there

Finally another song about hot goth shit by our goth dad. IIRC the last one we got was “Die Nacht” (if you don’t count “Licht am Ende des Sarges”)

Someone compared this to Drangsal and I think that’s funny cause Drangsal is always compared to Die Ärzte.

Anti

DÄ singing “Hurensohn” Counter: 2

Rebell vibes

“Brennst du noch oder explodierst du schon?” Wake up babe, new IKEA slogan just dropped.

Doof

Another song about Nazis, fuck yeah!

“Nazis sind Nazis weil sie Nazis sein wollen” So true bestie!

Bela said gay rights again

Nice children’s choir. Are Bela’s sons in it again just like in “Achtung: Bielefeld”? Gotta check the credits.

His sons are in it again awwwwwwww

Schrei

Cinnamon roll is ANGRY!

R.I.P. Rod’s vocal chords

Kraft

Ah the one we already saw on YouTube but dubbed (Fun Fact: Farin’s voice actor is the German voice actor of SpongeBob)

This could’ve been another song that saved my life when I was being bullied in middle school

Schweigen

A drum machine? Well that’s unusual.

Bonjour Tristesse

What kind of genre is THAT?

Fun Fact: this is the first DÄ song to have lines in French

I had French for 9 years but I had to google what “avenir” means.

Kerngeschäft

“Musik ist besser als Kapitalismus” So true bestie!

Fun Fact: This is not only the first rap feature of DÄ it’s also the first time DÄ featured someone on a song and didn’t hide their name in the credits.

It’s also the first DÄ rap/hip-hop song since FaFaFa and the third overall (the first one was “Radio Rap”)

Noise

The single(tm)

Haven’t heard that one that much so far

Finally a Bela/Farin collab again

Okay this slaps

Einschlag

Damn those lyrics are dark.

Anastasia

Männer sind Schweine but it’s more serious

Farin said fuck toxic maskulinity

Besser

It’s okay I guess. Maybe it’ll grow on me.

Nachmittag

Bela singing about murder again for the second time on this album

Menschen

Finally a song for those of us who hate people, thanks

Erhaben

Fav

Danach

Sounds like Bela’s solo songs, especially the ones on “Bingo”

Welp that’s probably not a song I’m gonna listen to much. Sorry Bela.

Our Bass Player Hates This Song

JUNGE WARUM HAST DU NICHTS GELERNT ladlkaldjsalkdjl

This is so important with the elections coming up!

The spiritual sucesssor of “Deine Schuld”

“Dein Kreuz gegen Hakenkreuze” You bet I’m gonna do that on Sunday, Fuck AfD!

#die ärzte

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kellykswift · 5 months ago

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Okk so i am bored at work and i read all the received messages again. After reading all your analysis, i thought i put my focus on the songs. becasuse everything you guys already said is also matching the messages.

So why I think its about songs: The messenger made it clear in the very first sentence of the first message. Plus something else sounded very familiar

1 MSG: YOYOK. played it 9 times as a surprise song already.

also gives kinda seven vibes, and we all know what seven is about....

so the aim of this whole volcano anon is to get the intention of ther message right.

There will be no explanation, there will only be reputation.

2. Msg. Ok to hear me out. There is this song by Kelly Clarkson, piece by piece but thats not even the interessting part. The reason why this song is stuck in my head because I remember a specific the Voice audition, where the singer, Stephanie Rice said that when she was 18, she came out and her parents disowned her, and music saved her. Plus, KELLY CHLARKSON was the one who encouraged Taylor to re-record her music.

Here's the link:

youtube

I think this msg was also a hint to TTPD. It might be also a hint to New Romantics (but I'm about to play my ace) because patience is a card game.

so let me be very unhinged... msg received on sept 14 / contains 8 P's. so 8 months later she played in Stockholm, Sweden (May 19) - 'Message In A Bottle/How You Get The Girl/New Romantics' and 'How Did It End?'

before she played it, guess where??

LA, August 09 - with New Years Day.

so the nex one was:

IDK why but it gives I can do it with a broken heart vibes, especially after the performance. plus: fallen frost.. there is this term called "Eisheilige" (ice saints) in German, you o wait till after the Ice Saints to plant out the delicate plants. and guess who is the last one.. Sophie... Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus. She played this song in Lyon, together with Glitch/ Everything has changes.

Plus: Very specific hints for TTPD (remember, we got the announcement in February and this was sent in NOV).

massive bearding vibes. also down at the bottom, my love. Down bad.

I hate it here

direkt references:

Sweet nothing

New Years day

To my first thought was: Karlie is this you? Because this msg is not from Taylors POV.

But whats interessting here. The msg is totally coded...the final act is the Eras Tour. Taylor her self said it that its over in December. This msg. was received on 12/30. So either I am very insane here or my theory, that she is dropping REP TV on 01/01/2025 is actually true.

It's the end of an era: Taylor Swift says Eras Tour will end in December (nbcnews.com)

It will be indeed the end of an era. The end of TS the brand. She (the writer of this msg) can toast with Taylor (the anti-hero Taylor, locked up and also her locked up versions during REP.) and the bottle ref is champagne problems.... and jagged Renegade. This is why i think this is from KKs POV.

So this whole msg gives massive poetic vibes...

the volcano is constantly preparing or holding onto something significant.

The use of "confided" implies that these aspects are disclosed or entrusted, perhaps to a select few who are privy to the volcano's secrets

This line suggests that the volcano’s plans or projects (symbolized by pink) are not revealed to just anyone ("no precious man"). It implies that these intentions or actions are kept hidden or are known only to those who are worthy or have a special understanding of the volcano's nature.

reticent volcano can evoke a poetic or metaphorical image of something powerful and potentially explosive that remains quiet or restrained. It suggests an entity or situation that holds back its true nature or potential, perhaps out of caution, mystery, or latent energy waiting to be unleashed. -- TTPD -Florida!!! - The hurricane with my name when it came. - and i guess there will be an erruption afterall...

so this gives female rage. Taylor said it herself. TTDP is female rage. Who's afraid of little old me? Guilty as sin? How did it end? The only songs with an ? in the end.

Taylor Swift trademarks 'Female Rage: The Musical' (nbcnews.com)

Yep.... The tortured poets dempartment (song) + the manuscript.

The smallest man who ever lived . Some pointed out that this song is not only about Scott or her masters but also about Taylor and her angst of coming out and staying silent. (And in plain sight you hid But you are what you did And I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive The smallest man who ever lived)

- also the gold reference - I think i dont need to go into this topic :)

Oceans crash at costlines, like Big Sur.

LA: Our song / YAIL

to be honest, its a very wilde speculation but I think this is also written from KKs POV. I think TTPD is their last act in the closet and this is Taylors promisse to her.

super kryptic but I think the messenger wanted to make sure that we know the stunting and the male pronouns in TTDP are not real but the message of the songs are.

has there been a glitch?

There are 22 apostrophes

April 6 + 22 days = April 29 - this is very funny, like the messenger said..

the not so funny part: these phrases paint a picture of someone grappling with the consequences of pride and arrogance, which result in neglect and a false sense of invulnerability. It suggests a need for humility, self-reflection, and a willingness to acknowledge and learn from mistakes.

so the messenger knows we are sick of the stunts

is this hinting at those very gay mashups? The Tour started at may 09 and it makes sense....

the writer seems more confident, the angst has dissappered, because nothing has happened so far.

so the next Surprise Songs were on June 13:

I Can See You/Mine' and 'Cornelia Street/Maroon

and after this one...

This Is What You Came For/Gold Rush' and 'The Great War/You're Losing Me'

danm. this was sent after Travis showed up at the stage. So the plan is still in motion.

It must have been fucking hard for her to pull this stunt. Because after this msg was received, she played:

State of Grace/You're On Your Own, Kid' and 'Sweet Nothing/Hoax

so lets wait and see...

i’m not sure if we’ve talked about this but 🌋 showed up with the door message on 03/05 and then surprise songs starting having tons of door themes

-privacy sign on the door 9/05

-halfway out the door but it won’t close 18/05

-she’ll open up the door and say ‘are you insane?’ 19/05

-he opens up my door and i get into his car 24/05

-all i need is on the other side of the door 24/05

-our song is the slam of screen doors 30/05

-take a deep breath as you walk through the doors 2/06

-and open up the door for you 3/06

-‘til you open up the door 8/06

-so i’m leaving out the side door 9/06

then 🌋 showed up with the imgonnagetHERback post and surprise songs started having heavy female orientated themes.

-she is the best thing that’s ever been mine 13/06

-everybody’s watching her but she’s looking at you 14/06

-who only wanted you to see her 14/06

-maybe it was her 14/06

-carolina 15/06

-este’s a friend of mine 15/06

-she was so wise beyond her years 15/06

-argumentative antithetical dream girl 21/06

-thank you aimee 22/06

-i see her through the smoke 23/06

-when she laid down on your couch 23/06

then 🌋 showed up again 26/06 talking bout eruptions and we’ve started getting lots of similar 🔥 imagery in the surprise songs

-from sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes 28/06, 30/06

-just twin fire signs 28/06

-tiny as a firefly 28/06

-i am ash from your fire 28/06

-and when that sky rains fire on you 29/06

-swaying as the room burned down 29/06

-lantern burning, flickered in the night 29/06

-breath of fresh air through smoke rings 30/06

anyway just an observation on some patterns but i’ll be putting in my mastermind guesses based on volcano/smoke/burning/fire lyrics tonight, wish me luck 🤪

#🌋#me being very bored and unhinged #Youtube

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takaraphoenix · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Review

Thanks to @light-miracles for tagging me! <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

As of this week, 1004 fics! :D”

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

8,052,836 words and counting ;)

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

Gosh that depends on how you define “fandom”. Like, does the Rise of the Brave, Tangled Dragons fandom count as one, because the crossover makes it one fandom, or would you count the movies individually? Same goes to DC.

The way I would count it, I’d say 27. Counting all the DC properties under the DC umbrella as one, same for the crossover fandoms.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful (Marvel, Loki/Tony, 6245 kudos)

The Lion’s Pride (Voltron, Shiro/Keith/Lance, 5615 kudos)

Percy and the Ghost King of Summers High (PJatO, Nico/Percy, 4680 kudos)

Percy Jackson, Ambassador of Hades (PJatO, Nico/Percy, 3841 kudos)

My College Boyfriend (PJatO, Nico/Percy, 3613 kudos)

Deadass, this feels like a glitch. I have written seventy-nine multiple-chapter fics. By virtue of having multiple chapters, they tend to draw in a bigger crowd of people. And even if not, I could think of a dozen of more deserving oneshots off the top of my head, at least. I do not understand number 5 at all, it makes no sense, I have 1004 fics and by virtue of people clicking a button, this incredibly... mundane... not-even-3k-long fic is the fifth place for most-heart-button-clicks...? Like, it’s not a bad fic, it is just... impossibly boringly slice of life? Nothing happens in it? It’s not even one of the long oneshots where a lot of plot or feelings - or heck even insanely kinky smut I’d get - happens? I truly can not fathom what made this story so much more worthy of clicking the dumb heart-button than all of the hundreds of stories that have... so much more going on in it...? My brain genuinely can’t comprehend this.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

Always. Because it feels like the polite thing to do. Sadly, receiving comments is not a given. Even when people like a fic - especially on AO3, with its cop-out “just click here to leave a heart” alternative, and yes I absolutely do think that that’s part of why many people don’t leave comments, because they are so conditioned through social media to think that a like-button is all it takes to communicate. So, in this comment-economy, I do think it’s worth to say thank you to those who do take the time and make the effort to leave actual feedback and truly let you know they enjoyed the story or what they enjoyed about the story.

6. A fic you've written with the angstiest ending.

That’d be a Beyblade oneshot from my German fandom days that was unrequited love ending in a suicide.

7. Do you write cross overs?

I used ot greatly dislike crossovers, because they only cater to a very specific group of people where those fandoms actually overlap for. But then I came across the whole Tangled/Brave/RotG/HttYD crossover fandom and it kind of took me by surprise. Opened my eyes to crossovers and since then, I’ve dipped into quite a couple different kinds of crossovers.

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

Were you really a fanfic author in the 2010 decade if you didn’t receive hate from the censorship and purity cult? Or, heck, in the beginning of that decade, from the homophobic “ew slash ships are evil and gross” crowd? :/

9. Do you write smut?

You could say that, yeah. *chuckles*

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

*ugly sobbing* I hate wattpad--

11. Ever had a fic translated?

I have been asked for permission more often than I can count, but I just... I just don’t like that? The thought of my fics on other people’s account, even when they do give credit to me as the original author.

And a bunch of the stolen fics on wattpad were, indeed, people who just decided to translate my fics and post them, all without my permission.

I did translate one fic myself though, because I wrote it when Germany passed the marriage equality law, so I wrote it in German and then figured I should also post it in English. ^^

12. Have you ever co written a fic?

Yes, I have! With the very lovely @kimmycup! ^-^

13. All time Fav ship.

ALL time. I think I have to go with Kaito/Shinichi from Detective Conan. It’s, by now, the ship that’s been with me the longest in an active way. I still get excited about them, I even wrote a fic for them just last month to celebrate my 1000th AO3 fic.

14. WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

*looks shamefully at Animexx* Basically all my old Beyblade fics. I dropped out of that fandom too suddenly and it doesn’t help that they’re in German and I’ve stopped writing in German.

15. Writing strengths?

Writing speed and the ability to plan ahead; both, when I write a fic as well as planning my schedule ahead.

16. Writing weakness?

Endings? I really struggle with when to end a fic and how.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

It’s stupid and unnecessary. Use italics and note what language they’re speaking in. Like, look, if it’s a language you actually speak, I can understand the temptation, but 90% of those include an A/N about how the author used Google translate for that and just... why.

And I straight-up hate when authors then don’t include the translation directly behind the spoken part but rather at the very end of the chapter... I don’t... I don’t want to scroll down to look at what I am just trying to read in the middle of the chapter and then have to find the place I was before? It completely breaks the reading flow.

I think that petnames, even some phrases, do make things more authentic, when you’re writing bilingual characters. But when it’s entire dialogues, that’s too much and should just be indicated that it is being said in another language.

18. First Fandom you wrote for?

Yu-Gi-Oh!

19. What's your fav fic you've written so far?

It always depends. I have a lot of fics I am very proud of, or that I think are incredibly well-done. But for me my favorite fic would be defined by the one I enjoy rereading the most. Within the last year or so, I’d say it’s probably The Lost Soulmarks, but there are a bunch I’m bouncing back and forth between and it’s also always up to what fandom or pairing I’m craving. There’s no one holy grail fic that I hold over all others, I guess.

Tagging @kimmycup, @fallenqueen2, @miazeklos, @donnas-troia, @justonemorechapternicercy

#About Me #Fanfiction

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years ago

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Wednesday 5 September 1838

6 5

up in the night at one and a half to the pot one motion also before getting into bed last night and one on getting up this morning was this owing to the strawberries I ate last night after dinner? very comfortable bed and slept well – very fine morning – reading A-‘s brochure, Lettres inédites de Monsieur Ramond. Toulouse. Chez Devers. Rue St. Rome n°5 1834.

Abies picea, le plus beau de Sapiens (vide p. 11)

Cembro and Wetter schirm of the Alps and Vosges

not in the Pyrenees

reading this brochure before and after breakfast (breakfast about 7 ½) till 9 10 these letters dated 1826 he died the year after – off from Arreau at 9 55 – went into the neat old church des Templiers near the bridge over the Neste (towards Toulouse) – a little gilt about the altar à l’Espagnole – off from here at 10 5 recrossed the bridge and repassed the picturesque old covered market place or halle, and went a little way along the Vielle road, till turned (right) up the hill to the Hourquette d’Arreau – valle d’Aure a valle of conical wooded hills close up to the back of the town of Arreau, pic d’Arbizon at a little distance behind towards the right, as I looked up the valley while standing at the old church door – up beech-wooded hill with pines towards the top – the opposite hill (forming the opposite side of our little valley up to the hourquette) beech the 1st ½ the valley and then pine-forest – Sapins (spruce firs) all here – all Scotch firs hereabouts near about Luchon – Hourquette d’Aspin much better for views than Hourquette d’Arreau – or at least the road down from the former much better for views than the road thro’ the wood we are going now from which little can be seen – about 10 55 get into the pine-wood – at 11 in a clear spot reaching up to the top of the hill, and 3 nice scattered cottages with each a grande – a very good mountain-road except a little bit just out of Arreau on first leaving the high road to Vielle – except this bit A- could have ridden down all the way – at the top at 11 35 the Hourquette a picturesque narrow cleft thro’ the argillaceous perpendicular schist – good view all the way in the clear part near the top of the Mouné (its peaky summit towering above all the rest) that we were to have gone to from Bagnères de Luchon – Le pic du midi not near so fine from here as from the hourquette d’Aspin – here we are close under the pic d’Arbizon and behind it the pic d’Antarooy – before reaching the hourquette we had overtaken a Bagnères de Bigorre intelligent guide who went with us as far as Paillole [Payolle] – he pointed out the old silver mine at the foot of the pic d’Arbizon which our young serrurier had spoken of as we went to the hourquette d’Aspin – our B. de B- guide also told us that the three Germans who had undertaken the mine d’argent at the foot of the valle de Louron had subscribed 50,000 fr. a piece for working the mine – and it is likely to answer – our host at Arreau (M. Clarière) had spoken of this mine – 4 hours from Arreau – 20 kilos of ore field 20 francs of silver, besides a considerable portion of lead – but I understood him as well as the serrurier that this mine is in the valle d’Aure above Arreau – 5 minutes at the top, and off down at 11 40 both sides of the mountains called the mountain de Transport – even this side, down to Paillole [Payolle] belongs to the valle d’Aure – to 4 communes of the valle d’Aure called les quatre voisins – there was a trail about it in Paris and the valle de Campan sent and paid ‘une homme de confiance’ to plead her right, but was bought off and Campan lost her claim – she has the right to send cattle to pasture on the mountain but not to let them sleep on the mountain, so that the cattle cannot go far – at 12 enter the pine forest – preserved by government, or it would soon be destroyed – guardians to take care of it, and a heavy fine on people found cutting wood – before government took it up, the people particularly of the valle d’Aure had a considerable trade in wood from here – (500/. fine says Charles for being found cutting the beech wood above Barèges) – A- dismounted at 12 5 (I had walked all the way down from the hourquette) and walked about ¼ hour when we both remounted in the forest – at the prè de St. Jean or Camp Bataillé, where tradition says Messala lieutenant of Augusuts beat the Bigorras Chaussenque [Chausenque] i.353 at 12 25 – not a Vératre to be seen (vide rep. 14 line 7) – at the carrière de Campan at 12 ¾ and then send Charles with the horses to bait at the little auberge at Paillole [Payolle] – nice view of the pic du midi from the upper part of the quarry in the midst of forest of spruce fir – about 30 workmen employed – one part of the carrier red with horizontal white stripes – the mottled green and white, and greed, red, and white, marble very pretty even in the rough – went down to the village of workmens’ cottages close by, and from there to another little quarry just opened in the gorge or wooded cabine (a little above the village) – then walked to the auberge about ¼ mile off and there at 1 35 a few drops of rain having hurried us there, for shelter – A- and I had each a boiled egg (à la coq) and were off at 2 5 a few light drops of rain rather frightened us, and before 3 I had put on and off my cape once or twice –at 3 fine look down upon the scattered village of Grip – the whole green bottom of the valley a camp-like village as far as Ste. Mary (could see no farther) – descend by a little sentier, leaving the auberge at Grip on the right and behind us, and get into the highroad about ½ hour beyond the auberge – the long hill-ridge we had passed from Paillole [Payolle], fertile and covered with cottages and granges all along the top, divides the large valley into 2 almost as far down as to Ste. Marie, the division on this side being Grip, and on the other the valle de Seoube [Séoube ]– In the highroad to the Tourmalet at 3 ¾ - at 4 10 thunder lightning and rain – Charles had said just before he thought we had better turn back – I hoped the storm would blow off – or not last long and A- and I were so anxious to avoid sleeping at Grip, that we determined to try what we could do – but on mounting the hill out of Tramesaigues [Tramezaigues] the wind was so strong we could not carry

SH:7/ML/E/22/0013

umbrellas, and the rain was heavy enough to wet us through so soon, that I began to think it was foolish to expose A- to such a storm, especially as if the wind did not abate (which was improbable) it would be terrible (said Charles – il y a quoi de mourir) at the top of the port – we could not possible sit on horseback and should have to struggle thro’ on foot - .:. about 200 or 300 yards beyond Tramesaigues [Tramezaigues], at 4 20 we turned back – at 4 50 passed the little bridge over the Adour we had crossed to get into the highroad – at 5 10 alighted at the Inn at Grip – tho’ it rained smartly all the way we were not much wet, having got under the wind at Tramesaigues [Tramezaigues] and been able to carry our umbrellas – our cape and cloaks were however wet, and we filled a room at the auberge with them hung over chairs etc. to dry – I went to the kitchen to see about our dinner and helped to make the soupe à l’oignon, and boil 4 eggs and 8 trout put into the frying pan – a civil French woman who with her husband from Bagnères de Bigorre were detained by the weather helped me to boil the eggs – and told me poached eggs were Oeufs en chemise - A- had hot water and drank the remainder pint bottle of our St. Sauveur Vilodry – I had boiled milk – soup à l’oignon – 2.S. of water boiled in the frying pan – then salt and a lump of butter and 2. S. of onions cut in small slices, and a little bread (I would not have much) all stewed or rather fried together till done enough – there ought to have been a little vinegar but I was afraid of its disagreeing with A- and it is common to blanchir la soupe with white of egg or cream – dinner about 6, and fair about that time or soon after – but soon afterwards thick again on the mountains – came to our bedroom at 7 the large room over the kitchen Charles in the next room but one – thankful to be so well sheltered – fine day till the rain threatening about 1 ½ at Paillole [Payolle], and afterwards nothing to signify till the storm came on at 4 10 – fair or thereabouts soon after 6 – but afterwards thick on the mountains and highish wind during the night –

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nakedmossy · 5 years ago

Text

Depth Over Distance - Part One [Rudy x Reader]

[A/N: I haven’t found a hometown Rudy fic yet soooo I wrote one. I have no idea where this story is going to go and I’m honestly finding it hard to get out of writing JJ and get into writing Rudy, but here we go anyways. I wanted to write something where the reader and Rudy were hometown friends before he moved to LA, and to explore the idea of how that would change/what it would look like when he comes back. Get ready for a S L O W. B U R N. my dudes. Peace and love, Mossy x]

The sky was grey and the air was wet - it had been raining for 4 days straight. You sat in your car with the heat cranked, your window down slightly so that the humidity didn’t fog up your mirrors. Living on the Alaskan coast was beautiful most of the time but horrible some of the time, especially when you had to waste gas just keeping warm and dry at 6pm in the beginning of ‘Summer’.

You had never lived anywhere else aside from the summer you spent in Vancouver with your cousin when you were 19. Now, at 23, you were working full time at the local bookshop that was an 8 minute drive from your house in the winter and a 20 minute walk/skate in the summer. Your car was parked street side, waiting for your friend Lizzy to finish her shift at the cafe. The smell of the rain and the Ben Howard song on the radio made you nostalgic about the times you and your friends from high school had spent hours skating down these streets, beers in your backpacks, no helmets, dirty shoes and clothes, no pressure, no responsibilities, no cell service...no worries.

Since graduation a lot of your friends had moved out of town, either to Anchorage or down to Washington, or further south. Your best friend Lizzy had stayed close to home, helping run her families business and working part time at the cafe. You had stayed local too...your dad owned a fishing guide business and your mom was an admin assistant for the MD in town, but neither made enough to cover all the medical bills you had racked up over the last few years. You figured once the debt was paid off you might leave...but you had no idea where you would go.

You missed all of your friends, but you missed the boys the most, aside from Lizzy you didn't have a lot of female friends, and your boys had been like brothers to you. You spoke to most of them every few weeks on FaceTime, except Rudy. He had gone to LA for awhile and had kept in touch loosely, but after the first few months he started to drift.

You felt the loss the hardest for Rudy. He had been your closest friend the longest, you had spent nearly every day of every summer together since you were 9, and every school year you worked the same part time job at the seafood restaurant on the water. Now, the last you heard, he was coming back for the summer to ‘reconnect’. You had low expectations and tried not to let yourself get excited, but truthfully, you wanted him to spend some time at home and be around his own kind again - he had always been a homebody and you were worried that being gone for 4 years would go to his head or change him.

Lizzy tapped on the glass, causing you to blink out of your reverie and smile at her. You rolled the window down and let her reach in and open the door from the inside (the handle had been broken since high school). She threw her backpack and skateboard in the back seat, climbing in and closing her door.

“Ugh.” She grunted as her teeth chattered and she rubbed her bare legs.

“You know its only May, you shouldn’t even be wearing shorts yet. The snow just melted.”

Lizzy glared at you playfully and put her hand out to do your handshake. You did it, then put the car in drive and started slowly down the street, windshield wipers moving rhythmically.

“How was the shift?” You asked as you checked your mirrors and wiped some humidity off the rear view.

“Same old” Lizzy leaned back in her seat and pulled the visor mirror down to fix her hair. “That old man Collins from the cannery keeps coming in and harassing me.”

“Jack? The one with the eye patch?”

Lizzy nodded dramatically as she held the bobby pins in her mouth and started to twist her straight black hair off her face.

“That guy-“ She finished placing the final pin and slammed the visor closed “-Is an absolute creep.”

You snorted a sarcastic laugh and rolled your eyes.

“He’s like...70. And widowed. Don’t be rude.”

“I’m not being rude. Im just...asserting my boundaries.”

“You literally have a 3 foot counter between you at minimum, at all times.” You looked over at her and raised your eyebrows.

“Whatever. All I’m saying is we need hotter men in this town. Like...soon.”

You nodded in agreement and felt your eyes wander all over the road, remembering the time you and Rudy had taken your longboards down it after a torrential downpour and you had crashed and gotten such bad road burn that he had to call his dad to come pick you both up because you couldn’t walk.

“Hey, Y/N, are you listening?” Lizzy cut back in, staring at you.

“No, what?”

“I said, speaking of hot guys, I heard Rudy is coming back for a few months.”

You pinched your face and looked at her then at the road, then back at her.

“Rudy is not hot. Rudy is....Rudy. What are you talking about?”

Lizzy looked at you disbelieving and closed her mouth, trying not to smile.

“What!” You repeated, smacking her arm.

“Hey!” She laughed, then shook her head and looked out the window. “Whatever you say man, I just think....” She grabbed her water bottle and began to screw off the lid “I just think...he’s not gonna be the same Rudy that left 4 years ago. He’s like...a movie star now.”

You couldn’t even begin to touch that one. You knew what she was doing...she was always harping on you about going on dates or taking trips with her to the mainland to hook up with the pilots during their layovers. You never went, and always insisted that you were just fine and were not interested. She never listened. Part of that was true...you were fine, and usually not interested. But sometimes, when the water was calm and the sunset was colourful and the fish were jumping and your beer was cold...you wished you had someone to share it with.

“I’m going up to Skagway this weekend with my dad” You said, changing subjects. “He’s short a guide and needs someone to drive the boat.”

“Lucky you” She said sarcastically, screwing the lid back on her bottle. “Another weekend spent with men twice your age who have zero ability to catch a fish and even less ability to smell nice.”

“It’s good money.” You said flatly, annoyed that everything seemed to revolve around men with her. “And in case you forgot I’m kinda in need of that at the moment.”

Lizzy licked her lips and put her hands up, dipping her head.

“Alright...noted. Chill out Kemosabe.” She giggled under her breath and looked out her window, drawing a small penis in the moisture on the window.

“Babe, seriously. You need to get laid.” You said, shaking your head.

“I know” She replied, working on the veins. “Trust me. Im in a state of national emergency by this time of year.”

Lizzy was absolutely one of the girliest girls (and most beautiful girls) in the south of Alaska, which was ironic considering the house she grew up in. Her dad was an overweight German restaurant entrepreneur who had opened a world class seafood restaurant in Juneau back in the 90s and had shacked up with her mother who was this drop dead gorgeous Haida warrior woman who you had literally seen kill and skin a bear with her own hands.

They had forged this chain of restaurants local to Alaska that people flew hundreds of miles to eat at, but still lived in an off-grid cabin that hadn’t been insulated since 1960 and used wood heating. Not really the type of family that screamed southern belle femininity - yet somehow Lizzy came out of that union with a pink bed set, refusing to ever wear camo or sweatpants, and still had never shot a gun - which her mother reminded her of weekly.

Lizzy had hit puberty at 10 and had used her breast advantage over every girl in your class for the next 3 years like some sort of distinction of better genetics, as if she needed boobs to prove that. Unlike you, she was naturally thin and tall (6ft to be precise), had long, thick straight black hair and olive skin, and perfect hips. You felt like a prepubescent boy standing next to her, with your uneven complexion and your frizz and your awkward thigh fat distribution. You were envious of her genetics - her mother graced her with the body of an athlete and the thick black hair, and her father had given her height and cheekbones that could slice through glass. You looked down at your arms, covered in freckles, pasty white from lack of sun, and cringed, looking back at the road.

You turned the corner leaving the main road and starting on the dirt road that led to your favourite part of beach access. Lizzy pulled her hoodie out of her backpack and took off her seatbelt, leaning forward to pull it down over her head. You leaned forward and looked up, this was your favourite part of the drive. The dirt road which was lined with moss and ferns and other foliage wound along the base of the snow capped mountain that was at least 1000ft in elevation. The mist and fog from the coast was thick and creeped through the tall cedar trees, black ravens and falcons flying overhead stark against the white mist. This was the most idyllic picture of northwest coastal living you could find.

When you parked at the trail head Lizzy slipped off her work flats and into her Teva’s, you grabbed your yellow Vans out of your trunk and slipped them on. You usually drove bare foot, a habit you had started in high school after Rudy had thrown your shoes off the dock at the restaurant and you had to drive home without any. You grabbed your sweater and your backpack which had the beer in it. As you were both gathering the rest of your things...beach blanket, hats, and rain cover, you heard a car pull up behind you. You stood up out of the trunk and squinted to see the car through the fog. It was a black ford pickup you had never seen before.

“Who’s that?” Lizzy chimed in from behind you.

“No clue” You said as you lifted your hand to wave once.

The truck had tinted windows and looked brand new. When it pulled up beside you, the drivers side window began to unroll, revealing Junior - your high school (ex) sweetheart.

“Holy” You said, eyebrows up, nodding. “Nice truck - where’d you steal it from?” He rolled his eyes at you dramatically.

“Whatever kid - its a rental. Got it to drive to the airport in.” His chest puffed out and his expression read so proud.

“Airport?” You said inquisitively. “Since when does Alan pay you to drive new trucks to the airport?”

“Since Rudy hired him for the pick up service and apparently is incapable of driving his own ass around anymore” Junior snorted and waved at Lizzy.

“Or he doesn’t have a car here anymore” You noted, rolling your eyes at him.

“Either way, I get this bad boy for the next 24 hours and I intend to give her the royal grand tour of our humble town.” He ran his hand up and down the steering wheel, stroking the new leather. “Wanna go for a rip?” He said, winking. You shook your head and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well I do” Lizzy piped up from beside you, walking closer to the window. She smiled at Junior and began to put her hair in a pony tail. She nudged your arm as she began to walk to the passenger side door. “Come on, granny. Let’s go!”

She laughed as she climbed up into the truck, but you shook your head again.

“I’m good...you kids have fun. Say hi to Rudy for me” You said to Junior, who shrugged his head and muttered ‘definitely wont do that’ under his breath.

Lizzy blew a kiss at you and waved once before Junior put it in drive and started to go up the dirt road north of you.

Junior and you had ended on okay terms, but he had concocted a theory that you had broken up with him because of another guy, and the unspoken suggestion was that that guy had been Rudy. Small town guys had a heck of a time with the idea of girls and guys just being friends.

You sighed and watched as the truck disappeared around the corner, and turned back to your own car. You grabbed your backpack and slammed the trunk closed, walking down the path alone. You weren’t mad at Lizzy for going with him - she was flighty and bailed on you at the bar all the time - but you were mad the beer was going to go warm before you could drink it all. Not that you should even be drinking 6 beers alone by the water when you had to drive yourself home. Doubtful the 2 cops in this town would even be awake to see you though. Whatever.

You reached the end of the path and rounded the corner, revealing the coast line and the rocky beach. It was your favourite place to sit and think, sit and smoke, sit and be yourself. The beach curled in a U shape, giving you a private spot where the rest of the shoreline was blocked from view and all you could see was the ominous cedar forest that stretched up the mountain, the snow caps at the top, and the horizon over the cold pacific.

You had intended to share the joint you had in your pocket with Lizzie, but...well, her loss. You spread the blanket out on the softest patch of sand and rocks you could find (which still meant you were guaranteed to get at least 2 rocks in the ass) and placed your bag down, kicking off your sneakers. You took a deep breath for the first time in a few days and lit the joint, taking one long, deep inhale. You felt it tingle through your chest and your arms and legs almost immediately, relaxing you. Being here alone always sent you into a spiral of memories and thoughts that you worked hard during the day to suppress. Most insistent lately had been thoughts about your health problems. You called them ‘health problems’ but in reality it was just an eating disorder. You could go 2, sometimes 3 days without eating anything, and never felt hungry. It started after graduation.

You had lost weight, dramatically, going from a stable 120-125 to 95 at most and 90 at worst, in the span of a month. And for the next three years you had never gained it back, you had stayed at a relatively stable 95, which still left you looking sickly and too thin at 5’3”. Your frame wasn’t built for that kind of weight drop, you were Scottish and Cree, sprinkled with a little bit of German and Irish. A classic northwest cracker mix. You weren’t naturally small, you always had a bit of something to grab onto, but it was normal to your body, healthy.

Some part of your brain knew that it had something to do with leaving school...and the pretence that came with that. The expectation...the responsibility. You were never that kind of person, and it never really bothered you, but suddenly it had. You never planned to go to University right away, but you had no back up plan. It wasn't something you and your friends really talked about. But suddenly Jacob had gotten into U of Washington, Dan had left to backpack Europe, and Rudy had not so graciously announced he was deferring his acceptance and scholarship to culinary school because he wanted to be an actor, and flew to LA the next month. You had been left behind, with Lizzy of all people, and it had hit you hard.

You looked around the beach, dragging on your joint quicker than normal, trying to knock the thoughts out of your head. An Eagle screeched above - scaring you - and you laid back on the blanket, closing your eyes. You needed to chill the hell out. This was the first time in a few weeks that you had gotten a night off from helping your dad with his guide business and you didn’t plan on wasting it riddling your brain with anxiety and worrying about your body.

You looked up at the sky and watched the mist and fog kiss the clouds, the sunset colours dancing across them. As it usually did, the rain had stopped just as the sun was going down, the clouds parting briefly and letting the smallest sliver of sunlight through, just enough to burn the grey light out of the sky and allow the pink and orange hues to fade along the horizon. You sat up and cracked a beer, enjoying the fresh smelling air and the rhythmic sound of the waves licking the shore line.

Two beers in you had put on your jacket and placed your Bluetooth speaker next to you on the blanket, blasting a playlist that Rudy had made you for your graduation party.

Three beers in you took the jacket off, standing up and dancing by yourself on the beach to the music.

Four beers in you laid down on the blanket, balled your jacket up and used it as a pillow, and started looking for shapes in the stars.

Five beers in you fell sleep.

———

Many hours later, as the sun rose and was bright on the water and the early morning bird feed was in full swing overhead, you were drifting in and out of sleep to the squawking when a shadow came across your face, alerting you to groggily open your eyes.

“What’s up, Little Fern?” His voice had gotten deeper. Wait, what?

You opened your eyes and blinked, raising a hand to block the sun. There, in your very awake and very not dreaming state, was the unmistakable silhouette that you had spent the last 18 years dreaming about and 18 years being a friend to.

Rudy.

#rudy pankow #reader x rudy #depth over distance #nakedmossywrites #jj maybank #outer banks #obx

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ayoitsnic · 4 years ago

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Crowley x Reader x Lucifer

Part 1

*Based loosely around 12x15 but Ramsey kills Gwen and gets away

Word Count: 2.6k

Trigger Warnings: Injured animal? Idk? If you think something should be added to the TW list drop a comment or DM me

Summary: Humans aren’t supposed to see hellhounds, so what happens when y/n finds an injured hellhound and brings it home to care for?

*Disclaimer* Lucifer will be introduced in the 2nd part which should be up by Saturday 4/3/2021

It was almost midnight when y/n got off of work. She was exhausted after her shift at Regional West Medical Center in Nebraska. As she trudged through the parking lot to her old, beat up 2002 Suzuki she couldn’t help but feel eyes on her, like something was watching her from out in the darkness. Fumbling with her keys she turned to unlock the driver’s side car door (The remote to unlock the door was broken. The car could only be opened with the actual key.), only to freeze in place when she felt the hot breath and heard the heavy breathing of some sort of animal behind her. “Dear god, please let it be my overactive imagination.” she prayed silently, knowing it was no use. Whatever stood behind her was very much real.

Very slowly she turned to face whatever it was that was sniffing her, her keys moving between her middle and ring finger in case she needed to defend herself. Instead of being met with what she thought for sure would be a small bear or a rabid coyote, she was met with a very large dog. A very large dog that looked like it had been through absolute hell. Its fur was matted and caked with dried mud and dirt, and it was covered with cuts and what she naturally assumed was its own blood. It was hard to tell through the thick, matted fur but it also looked very underweight. “Oh you poor baby��.” Y/n’s heart melted upon seeing the creature.

Obviously the dog had been out on its own for a very long time. Y/N took pity on it. It seemed so sad, and it didn’t appear rabid or vicious. It looked like it just wanted help. Reluctantly she reached down to check for a collar. There was a collar but it was in a foreign language. One she’d never seen before. Unlocking the back of the car she coaxed the dog in with some leftover food she had from her lunch break. She knew the poor thing must be starving. Being hurt it took a little help getting in. Little did she know how dangerous that dog really was or that there was a man out right now searching for it.

The K-9, which y/n decided to call (Dog’s name) had fallen asleep on the car ride home, snoring softly over the radio that was playing some Green Day song. Pulling into the driveway, (Y/N) stopped the car and turned off the radio. Almost on queue (dog’s name) looked up to see where they were. A light was on outside, illuminating a large porch (Which could probably use a new paint job, if we’re being honest) with 2 rocking chairs, a small table and a plethora of healthy, brightly colored plants. She picked up the injured dog and carried it inside, planning on taking it to the vet in the morning to see if it was microchipped.

She was going to let the dog sleep in the basement for the night, unsure if it would destroy the house or not. She remembered her aunt’s German Shepherd who took pleasure in tearing up sofas, and eating her plants. The dog also really needed a bath and she didn’t want it on the furniture until it got one. Unfortunately around 3:30 am, y/n felt a dip in the bed and then something making itself comfy by her feet. Looking over, she found the dog curled up in bed with her. Way too tired to deal with it now, and knowing she had to wash the sheets anyway she just fell back asleep let the dog stay with her so long as it stayed at the foot of the bed.

The next morning, Y/N got up early to go to the pet store and get stuff for the dog. She called up the local vet, making an appointment, she washed the sheets, and most importantly she began trying to wash (Dog’s name). At first the dog resisted, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the water. Y/N knew exactly how to deal with this though. Placing a glob of peanut butter on the side of the tub to keep the dog preoccupied, (Dog’s name) happily entered the bathtub. A trick y/n had learned from that aunt with the poorly behaved German Shepherd. By the time y/n was done with the dog she’d had to drain and refill the tub 3 times before she gave up and kept it drained, just using the shower head. She couldn’t believe how much blood and dirt had come off this dog.

Around 2pm the doorbell rang and this dog who was once so sweet, albeit a bit skittish turned into an absolute beast. Running to the door, loud deep barks and growls left it. The dog seemed ready to tear the stranger on the other side of the door to shreds. It was almost like it had turned into a completely different dog. “(Dog’s name)!!!” Y/n shouted as she raced down the stairs after it, hoping to get to the door before the dog did. “NO!!!” She yelled. Even hurt and underweight, (Dog’s name) was really big. If it wanted to break that door, it probably could. Without thinking, Y/n quickly grabbed the dog by the collar to stop it. “I said no!” She told her firmly with a pointed finger. The dog whined, tail between its legs as it hurried back up the stairs to the bedroom to do that thing dogs do when they roll around on the rug to dry themselves.

The front door had a glass window looking out so y/n could see the stranger. He was short, and wore a nice suit. He seemed only slightly concerned about the interaction. The man didn’t even flinch as the massive hound lunged itself at him. It seemed like this was a normal day for him. Actually, he seemed more unnerved after she called the dog off. Opening the door, y/n apologized profusely for the dog “I am so sorry about the dog! I-” Before she could continue, the man squinted at her, clearly confused about something. “What are you?” He questioned in an English accent.

“Hellhounds? Really?” She questioned with a quirked eyebrow and a small grin, crossing her arms and constantly turning to keep facing the man. It was obvious she didn’t believe him.

Obviously his question confused y/n as she gave him a look of confusion back “What do you mean ’what are you?’” She stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her “I'm human”

“Yes, really.” The man continued, as serious as a heart attack “You especially shouldn’t be able to control that bitch. I’ve only ever known one person to be able to control Ramsey and you and not that person.”

“Oh really? And who might that person be then?” Y/n asked, beginning to think this was some elaborate prank being played on her by a friend or coworker.

Remembering what the demon said about her being able to control the hound, y/n gave it a shot. Raising a hand she firmly commanded “Ramsey stay.” Not only did the dog stop dead in her tracks, she laid down and waited for further orders. Now most people would be a little freaked out by this; finding a hellhound that they didn't know was a hellhound, and now being visited by a demon sent to collect said hound. Y/n however wasn’t afraid. Actually she kind of got a Déjà vu feeling at this.

“No you can’t be. Humans can’t see hellhounds, much less control them.” Normally Crowley would just collect the demonic hound and leave, with humans being none the wiser that the rogue canine was even there, but not only did this woman know the hellhound was there, she was taking pretty good care of it. Even stranger, the dog was letting her care for it. There was something different about this woman, something special. He just wasn’t sure what it was yet. Crowley circled y/n, inspecting her. He was trying to find any indication of her not being human.

“Lucifer.” Crowley responded

At that, y/n was done. “Look pal, I don’t know what kind of kool-aid you’re drinking but I’m not buying it. Now’s the part where I tell you to get off my property.” she turned to go back inside, closing and locking the door behind her. As she turned to head upstairs though, Crowley was standing right behind her, his eyes red. She let out a screech, jumping as far back as she could (Which wasn’t far as the door was right behind her). Again, the dog that the demon in front of her called ‘Ramsey’ came running to her defense.

“The name’s Crowley. King of hell.” He introduced himself “May I ask who you are?”

“Y/n y/l/n.” she responded before telling him “Queen of this house.” This was crazy. Y/n was standing in her entryway conversing with a demon king. “Could I offer you tea ‘your highness’? Maybe Coffee?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she addressed Crowley as 'your highness' She wasn’t gonna hand over the dog so easily, and something told her the demon wouldn’t be leaving without Ramsey.

“.....Who are you?” Y/n asked the man

Y/n and Crowley sat in her kitchen, sipping tea and chatting. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” The demon who sat across from y/n questioned “Most people would run, or beg for mercy if a demon showed up at their doorstep. Not invite them in for a drink.”

If it weren’t for the fact that y/n could sick Cujo on him at any moment, Crowley wouldn’t be being so patient with her. He wouldn’t be trying to convince her to send the dog to her death. “I’m sorry but I can’t let you take that dog back.” Y/n told Crowley. For some reason she felt bonded to that dog, with the overwhelming need to protect her.

“I’m afraid I must insist. She’s dangerous and unpredictable. It’s for the best that she be put down. She’s killed a lot of people who weren’t on hell’s hit list while she was topside.” Crowley explained “A pup like that out and about isn't good for business. It makes it look like I’m not in control.”

“Do you want me to beg for mercy?” Y/n asked with a smirk and a small, dry chuckle. “Sorry but you’re not very scary so forgive me if I’m quaking in my shoes.” She would never be seen begging for mercy. Not in a million years.

“I thought you were the king down there.” Y/n questioned “A king answers to no one. You could turn, walk right out that front door, and pretend she vanished. That you weren't able to find her. Or you could go back and tell your people she attacked you and you killed her. Besides, you’re a demon. You don’t really care about the people she’s killed, do you?” Y/n definitely cared and felt bad, she just didn’t believe Crowley did.

“The Winchester’s. They hunt monsters. Vampire’s, werewolves, demonkind, et cetera.” Crowley explained “They’re ruthless, and if they find out that dog is here they will show up and kill her. Painfully. If you hand her over I promise her death will be a painless and merciful one.” Of course he would make the boys sound worse than they were. In reality they’d kill it as quick as possible if they could. He’d say anything to get her to give up Ramsey.

“Of course I don’t, but some hunters I know care a lot about the people that were killed. If I don’t collect this dog, they’ll come and collect her for me and they’ll be far less inclined to sit and chat over hot beverages.” Crowley explained

“Tell me about these hunters.” Y/n asked, genuinely interested. "I assume you're not referring to people who shoot buck in their free time."

“Let them come.” Y/n spoke after quietly mulling over what was just told to her. Whether she was underestimating these hunters or just didn’t believe what Crowley was telling her he was unsure. “She may be in a weakened state now but she’ll get better. She’ll get stronger and when she does I’ll be the only one who can stop her. If they show up, I’ll be ready and they’ll have to go through me. When they get through me, she’ll be ready for them too.”

“Y/n I know you think-” Y/n cut off the demon king, her patience wearing thin. She had all the leverage she needed in this situation and she knew it “You said I was the only one who could control her. Now I don’t know how or why that is, but that means there’s nothing stopping me from sicking the dog on you. If she really is as vicious and dangerous as you claim she is, I would be afraid of the one person who can send her after you. I’m telling you to walk away. I’m giving you an out. I strongly suggest you take it.”

Thinking about it later though, she was actually kind of sexy. She knew she held the power and the leverage in that situation and she knew how to use it. Not only that but she was bold enough to try and intimidate not just any king, but the King of Hell. And she didn’t need to raise her voice once while doing it. She was clearly a strong, intelligent, woman. He liked that.

After he was gone, y/n was in fact a little freaked out. If there was a hell that meant there was a heaven. Would she be going to hell just for harboring this animal? And better question; how do you even properly care for a hellhound? She imagined it would be a lot different from taking care of your average, run of the mill Pitbull.

Crowley stood his ground, calling her bluff. He didn’t believe she would actually do it. “Ramsey!” Y/n called “Ramsey c’mere girl!” she whistled as the Hellhound came barreling from upstairs “Ramsey, hurry up! Go get him! Get the demon!” Y/n told Ramsey in the same sickeningly sweet baby voice most humans use to talk to animals they find cute. Before she could get to him though, Crowley had disappeared into thin air.

After hours spent searching on the internet y/n got her first lead. Okay so it wasn’t really a lead. It was more of an idea. It’s not like she could just log onto wikipedia and pull up a page on 'How to take care of a Hellhound'. She did however find instructions for summoning and trapping a crossroads demon. She didn’t realize there were different types of demons but to her, a crossroads demon was still a demon so good enough right?

Late that night y/n put Ramsey in the car with her and drove to the nearest crossroads. Spray painting a ‘devils trap’ in the road she buried a box in the center. It contained a photo of her, some graveyard dirt, and the bone of a black cat. No, she didn’t go out and kill a cat. She was able to get that from a wiccan shop on the outskirts of town.

After burying the box, she stood and read the incantation she had written on a scrap of paper “Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae!” She waited a moment and when nothing happened she thought she might've gotten a word wrong. That was until she heard a woman speak behind her “What can I do for you tonight?”

Jumping a bit she turned to face the demon. “I just need some information.”

.....To be continued....

#Crowley #Crowley x Reader #Lucifer #Lucifer x Reader #Supernatural #x reader #Female reader

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deadinsidedressage · 5 years ago

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Why Acti-Veg’s “Ethical Issues with Horse Riding” is Flawed

Militant vegans and animal right’s activists alike have determined that horse riding is an inherently unethical activity. Yet the criticism they dole out is inherently flawed itself. In a recent run-in with the vegan community a “source” provided to shame me about being an equestrian was a post by Acti-Veg.

The following will be a look into the claims made in that post by myself, someone who has grown up around horses, ridden a variety of disciplines, witnessed the spectrum of how personal finances impact horse care, and currently work for a top level professional.

To really delve into the flaws in the arguments made in Acti-Veg’s post we must first acknowledge one difficult truth: Abusive practices in horse riding, horse training, and horse management still exist, still are popular, and are extremely visible. There’s a higher degree of accepted abusive practices the lower on the economic spectrum the culture of a given discipline, breed, or nation tends to be. The ugly truth about animal abuse and neglect is that it tends to occur because of a lack of education. A lack of education occurs because of poverty. The poverty cycle and the impacts it has on education is well-documented and something I am personally acquainted with as an educator in an under-serviced community. The way we break abusive practices in any animal husbandry starts with making education free and accessible. Yet there’s the flaw with equestrianism--- it’s an extremely classist endeavor. There is a hard class division between the ability to be a truly ethical horse owner and as an unintentionally neglectful or outright abusive horse owner. The class issue in equestrian is two-fold; on the one hand there’s the lack of educational opportunities free from a paywall that could help erase abusive practices, on the other there’s the psychology of poverty and the creation of a “us versus them” mindset (often what I refer to as the “underdog mentality). There are limited opportunities for people to access affordable/free education to improve their horse care, handling, riding/training and when there is it is often meant with hostility. The unfortunate fact is that people who are engaging in abusive and neglectful practices because of lack of education are also extremely defensive of having their practices questioned. They fall into an assumption that the party attempting to educate them is just an embodiment of the upper class and judgmental because of their privilege. In the US, this dichotomy is primarily seen in the split between Western and English disciplines. With Western often engaging in “old timey”,“cowboy” practices and English being dismissed as “snooty”, “spoiled” and so forth. Refusal to change and adjust to ethical practices is seen as a place of pride because the “cowboy method” is upheld against the assumed “spoiled princesses” who have “everything done for them”. These people believe themselves to be “do-it-yourselfers”, of succeeding despite “the system”, and of having “worked for what they have”. Abuse and neglect is not exclusive to Western disciplines, but the vast majority of under-educated unintentional abusers, in my experience, come from Western disciplines.

When I discuss counter-points to vegan talking points, I am speaking specifically of ethical equestrianism. Horse ownership, care, and training rooted in a belief in continuing education. A group that is self-aware of the flaws in the sport and who advocate for global changes toward ethical equestrianism.

With that out of the way, the first point latched onto is the use of the term “breaking” when discussing the training of horses for riding:

“... horses are forced to accept a rider against their will. A lack of resistance does not mean that a horse has consented to being ridden, it simply means a horse has figured out that it is in their best interests to allow it to happen. Even the term “breaking” implies an acknowledgement of the truth of this fact.”

Breaking is an antiquated term and while still used in the equine community to describe starting horses under saddle, when we are discussing ethical horse training it is simply a colloquialism. The post mentions still-existing though admittedly abusive practices such as laying down a horse (forcibly dropping a horse to force “submission”) and begrudgingly refers to currently accepted slow-start practices though insistent that that is still an inherently abusive practice. The fact is, when discussing the practice of training a horse to be ridden as “unnatural” is only as true as the act of domestication is unnatural. Domesticated animals do not have the same instincts as their wild counterparts. They have had instincts bred out of them and the ability to enjoy co-habitation with humans bred into them. Do horses feel the need to be ridden? No. Neither do cats or dogs feel the need to live with us, but like these are all animals that have been bred to accept and enjoy human socialization. Riding is a form of socialization. Dependent on the breed and individual personality of the horse, not only is riding a fulfilling form of inter-species socialization but it’s a form of complex mental and physical stimulation they need for quality of life. Yes, just like there are dogs that have been so purpose bred they develop neurosis when kept “just as a pet” there are horses who have the same need for work.

Another point the post tries to make is about growth plates and long-term impacts of riding prior to fusion:

However, studies demonstrate that the epiphyseal plates in the body of the lumbar vertebrae of thoroughbred horses is not fully developed until they are between 6 and 9 years old, and that riding them before this time can cause lasting injuries. Even after this age, damage to the spine resulting from riding is common. In one study, 91.5% of ridden horses studied were diagnosed with some kind of alteration of the spine after x-ray, even though they seemed perfectly healthy prior to the scan.

The post sites two studies, one which is written by someone with their PhD in holistic medicine, a clear anti-riding bias, and a misunderstanding of kissing-spine as universal to all horses. The other is in German. Were the entire post in German and meant for German speakers I wouldn’t have an issue with sourcing a study in German... but as it’s directed toward an English-speaking audience and it’s in German... I mean that just reeks of twisting facts to suit your narrative while preventing people from fact-checking you.

Here’s the thing about growth plates and horses, we also have studies that have shown that light age appropriate work helps with bone density, helps remedy some conformational flaws, and does not damage. The key word is appropriate.

Reining and racing are the two top sports that skew data sets toward showing detrimental impacts on the longevity of horses because they are sports that start horses too early and with too high of intensity for it not to result in damage. Ethically developed young horses are given long stretches of off time to accommodate growth phases and are worked lightly. A 4 year old is not worked with the intensity of a 14 year old.

There’s also the issue of kissing spine which is still not fully understood. It’s most prevalent in Quarter Horses, Thoroughbred, and Warmbloods--- the three arguably most populous riding horse breeds. There is some debate as to what causes it or the extent of the genetic component, but kissing spine has been discovered in the remains of prehistoric, pre-domesticated horses.

I would also argue that depending on the age demographic of the “91.5%” study that there’s also just the nature of wear and tear on bodies. Within the equestrian community it’s known that no horse is going to vet entirely clean because that’s not how being a living creature works. Life has impact on the body and even humans who’ve never engaged in sports activities will develop conditions like arthritis as they age. Especially when we consider that medical advancements have surpasses ours and our domesticated friends’ evolutionary lifespans. Simply put, ours’ and theirs’ bodies will begin to breakdown long before there are no longer care options to prolong life.

A point that is barely worth mentioning because of the seeming refusal of the author’s post to do any research in order to attempt an educated opinion is on the use of training equipment and aids:

On top of the process of riding, many riders inflict additional harm on their horses using instruments like harnesses, bits and whips; even saddles can restrict blood flow and cause chafing, this is not including general injuries sustained by horses which are part and parcel of being ridden. Bits are particularly harmful, as they damage horse’s sensitive nerves, their teeth, tongue and palate.

None of this equipment is inherently harmful. An ill-fitting saddle or an incorrectly used bit and the damage they can cause are not equatable to a properly fitting saddle and a correctly used bit. They don’t even give me something to counter here other than saying “no, that’s wrong” because they have so little understanding of the use of tools in training and riding horses. Saddles can cause chafing--- hmm, does that reason that a vegan would then prefer if I “had” to ride I did so bareback? What about the studies I can pull up showing that bareback riding is detrimental to spine health... The “not including general injuries sustained by horses which are part and parcel of being ridden” portion of this is a little hilarious as someone who has always been around horses. Yes, it’s not out of the question for a horse to sustain small injuries through the course of being ridden just as it’s not out of the question for a human person engaging in any physical activity to sustain small injuries. What about potentially “career ending” injuries though? Anecdotally, I know of few horses with injuries that lead to retirement from riding that actually occurred while being ridden. Horses are an evolutionary shitshow and much of that is evident in their tendency to injure their legs in somewhat miraculous ways. Additionally, injuries that could occur from work are also mostly preventable and this is where the class/educational barrier raises it’s ugly head again. A top tier dressage horse is likely to have more overall stress on their body than the average 4H horse. However, the dressage horse is also going to be exposed to preventative and aftercare measure such as boots/polos, icing, poultice, theraplating, PEMF, laser therapy, nutritional support, structured warm-up/cool-down, etc. The 4H horse is usually lucky if someone notices they’ve bowed a tendon or developed a bone spur. There is so much that education can do in prevention of injury and wear.

The supposed “gotcha” moment of this post comes when talking about euthanasia, making bold claims about horses being disposed of when they outlive usefulness:

One in particular, an owner of a horse equipment shop, explained the reasoning: “I really love horses. But when they’re no good to me, what are you going to do with them? We don’t want to take ‘em out back and shoot ‘em. They may just as well be slaughtered, and get some use out of them.” Another commented that: “Chickens for eggs, lambs for wool, cows for milk, horses for work, and when their useful, productive life has passed, then you turn them into meat.”

Part of me honestly doesn’t really believe this is a real quote by a real person, but these people also do exist. There also is the unfortunate reality of the “slaughter pipeline” in the US in which horses who are sent to auction often end up in the hands of kill buyers who ship them over the boarder to sell for meat.

As far as should a horse be killed when it surpasses “usefulness”? Absolutely not. Ethical equestrians don’t view horses this way and recognize that an animal which has offered so much by way of partnership deserves a soft retirement and a loving home until they die. However, the post tries to take an anti-euthanasia stance period:

“..most owner’s prefer to euthanize animals when they become too old or sick to walk or ride”

If you’re not catching the problematic part of that sentence, there’s the suggestion that it’s wrong to euthanize an animal that can’t walk. The inability to conceptualize quality of life over quantity of life seems to be a recurring theme with vegans. An animal that is evolutionarily designed to roam miles in a day, essentially need movement to help with digestion, and can’t communicate pain isn’t an animal that can be ethically kept alive when it loses the ability to be comfortably mobile. It is better to euthanize any animal in order to prevent suffering that is to force them to live through it. Animals cannot conceptualize pain the way a human being can. A horse does not wake up in pain and think “well, thank god I’ve lived through another day!”. It wakes up, feels itself in pain, and suffers.

Now, to indulge myself in my own controversial opinions... I think horse slaughter should be legalized in the United States and regulated in order to make sure it is done in an ethical manner. There is simply too high an over-populous of unethically bred horses that are not going to be placed in homes to justify the horrors involved in the shipment of horses to slaughter. Horses currently going through the slaughter pipeline due to being undesired go through horrific non-stop truck journeys in which they are crowded, starved, dehydrated, extremely stressed, and sometimes even die in the process of the trip. It’s a cruel end to the horse. Horses are also extremely expensive animals that require a high degree of care in order for their needs to truly be met. This post referenced horse owners as spending an average of roughly $3,500 a year on their horse. That is a shockingly low number and indicative of how normalized neglectful care is. Prices of care certainly change based on location, but personally keeping my horse at an absolute basic level of care while assuming no vet emergencies are taking place and without factoring any of the expenses keeping her in work would entail.. I am at nearly $10k a year and that’s with doing the absolute minimum with zero preventative care. I also have no issue with the sentiment of horse owners who’d like to see some “usefulness” out of the death of their horse. The practice of either taking the meat from your deceased horse for you family or to be given to the needy in the community is standard in Norway. It isn’t a taboo, it’s a sensible way to dispose of the corpse of a large animal in a way that doesn’t negatively impact the environment and honors the horse. I know people who have donated their horses’s corpses to wildlife sanctuaries to feed animals. For some people being able to ascribe some meaning pr purpose to the death of their animal is needed for coping.

The major thing with this post is that it lacks the understanding of nuance. It condemns riding as a whole based off an awareness of abusive practices that activists within the community are trying to change. Arguments made are made without the education to back up the points being attempted and when all else fails it’s reliant on the classic militant vegan rhetoric about interaction with animals being exploitative. Ultimately while not as egregious as PETA thinking sheering sheep involves skinning them, this is the horse version of utterly misunderstanding the subject of the argument.

#horses #horsblr #vegan

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joezworld · 4 years ago

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Deeply Specific and Very Long Ocean Liner Headcanon

So, most boats, ships, and vessels of every sort are normal - or as normal as a sentient seagoing vessel can be.

With one big exception

The Transatlantic Ocean liners were considered to be an odd bunch on the best of days, and got seemingly nuttier as years went on and ships got larger. While ships like the RMS Olympic might have had some personality quirks, moving on just 20 years brought about ships that were just eccentric.

Take, for example, the SS Normandie.

The pride of the French Line, the ship made a name for herself in the interwar years for being bigger, faster, more luxurious, and downright prettier than any other liner at sea. She took her appearance very seriously, and many of her initial eccentricities were missed under the assumption that she was vain, not nutty.

But nutty she was, and this became especially evident during The War.

Most French Line ships scattered to the four winds, running to any port who might protect them from the incoming German threat. Not Normandie, who called her fleetmates cowards and kept to her scheduled sailing dates until September of 1939, when she sailed into New York harbor and requested asylum for herself and her full complement of crew.

The Americans were more than willing to provide protection, but at a cost - Normandie would have to become a troop ship for the allied war effort. According to the vessel, she had been expecting this, but had been more than willing to do her part for the war effort.

That is, right up until the US Navy announced that they would be stripping her of her fine furnishings and painting her in dazzle camouflage. This was a line in the sand that Normandie refused to cross, as she knew that the Americans would likely ‘appropriate’ her elegant art deco décor for its scrap metal content the instant it hit the dockside. She refused, and left immediately for the open ocean, opting to serve her native France in a different way.

What was that different way you might ask?

Well, first she sailed to the French Colony of Guadeloupe in the Caribbean, intending to serve as the island’s supply ship in order to keep it from starved out by enemy U-Boats.

This plan lasted about a month, before a U-Boat sank another vessel virtually in front of her. Equipped with high-tech radar and many other navigational aids required for a safe transatlantic crossing, the infuriated liner bore down on the surfaced U-Boat and rammed it, sinking it instantly.

To quote the ship’s 2011 autobiography: “It was at that moment, surrounded by the oil and debris of my first kill, that I became a warrior. My mission - to destroy the enemy by any means possible. None would escape me.“

Normandie would spend the rest of the second world war as a one-ship wolf pack in the Caribbean, chasing down and sinking any and all vessels - military or otherwise - flying the Axis flags.

A typical day for the Normandie was captured in the logs of the U.S.S Plymouth - which sighted the ship several times during a Convoy Escort mission in September 1942.

Log entry - Sept. 9 42 - sighted Periscope off port bow in early morning (approx. 09: 30) - dropped depth charges to no effect. Sub made attempt to torpedo convoy - missed by significant distance. Sub fled. No further sightings until after noon.

- Recon aircraft out of Guantanamo observed what appeared to be a German sub tender and Sub two hundred miles due east of Havana. Moved to intercept at 13:04 ship’s time.

-13:51 Sighted large contact on radar, moving fast to intercept from SW. Radar says that contact is bigger than any ship known to be in area.

-Large contact made no attempt to intercept - made beeline for approx. location of sub and tender. Crows nest observed a huge liner flying the French flag at 14:39.

-15:04 All ships visible - contact revealed to be liner Normandie - flying biggest French flag ever seen. Sub Tender - unknown freighter flying Italian flag- attempted to flee while sub dove. Liner lowered French flag to reveal equally large pirate flag and charged the sub - ramming it and sinking it at [COORDINATES CLASSIFIED]

- 15:12 rescue effort made on sub crew - 3 survivors. Normandie bound NNW in pursuit of sub tender.

- 18:26 rejoined convoy - prisoners in brig to be transferred to Guantanamo Bay.

- 23:11 sighted Normandie again. Received Aldis lamp transmission from liner. “Two Sunk. Success.”

- 23:19 lost sight of Normandie.

At the war’s end, the Normandie had accumulated a whopping 37 confirmed kills of German, Italian, Japanese, and Vichy French vessels, making it one of the most decorated warships of either side had it been commissioned into any navy.

Following the war, Normandie resumed transatlantic services until she was replaced by the much larger SS France in 1962.

Now lacking anything to do for the first time in her long and illustrious life, Normandie elected to sail more or less for pleasure, spending several years sailing about the Caribbean in order to properly mark out her ‘kills’ to West German survey vessels, before circumnavigating the earth in the company of the SS United States, who had been retired following the collapse to the United States Lines in 1964.

Although both ships are immensely private about the nature of their relationship, the addition of a gold band to each vessel’s lead funnel - a traditional sign of marriage - in 1972 did not go unnoticed.

Since then, both liners spent the tail end of the 20th century living lives of leisure punctuated by mild adventure.

in 1979, both ships attempted to evacuate residents of the Dominican Republic ahead of Hurricane David. They failed to do so, and were forced to ride out the storm at sea, reportedly reaching the eye of the storm in the process.

Following the attack on their close friend SS Atlantic Conveyor during the Falklands War, both ships led a flotilla of other retired liners in an effort to significantly hamper the Argentinian Navy’s assault on the islands. The success of this still debated, however it did show that the Normandie is not alone her ability to hunt down submarines, as the United States and the former German/French liner Liberté successfully hunted down and sunk the ARA Santa Fe during the conflict - much to the shock of all military forces involved, who had thought that the liners were joking when they began to participate.

In 1985, following the SS France’s abrupt ‘retirement’ from Norwegian Cruise Lines, (NCL had wanted to ruin France’s lines by adding more cabins on her upper decks - she refused and was shown the door) The United States and Normandie joined in a venture to provide even better cruises - so that they could beat NCL at their own game. The resultant company was one of the largest cruise lines in the world, and was the highest valued travel stock in the world after its IPO in 1991, causing all three ships to become immensely wealthy when they sold the company to Carnival Cruise Lines in 2000.

All three liners have left the public eye since the early 2000′s - becoming eccentric billionaires instead of eccentric vessels. Most sightings of the Normandie and United States have been in increasingly unusual places for them to go, like the Arctic, the Antarctic, the US Great Lakes, and even off the coast of Siberia. They claim that they’re just doing touristy things, but most of the world’s submarine fleet has doubts.

#long #ocean liner #ss normandie #ss united states #ss france #ww2 #war #boat headcanon #extremely specific headcanon #headcanon #I wrote this one for me #having sentient boats messes with so many historical events

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jafreitag · 3 years ago

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Grateful Dead Monthly: Gaelic Park – New York, NY 8/26/71

Fifty years ago today, on Thursday, August 26, 1971, the Grateful Dead played a concert at Gaelic Park in New York City.

Gaelic Park is located at West 240th Street and Broadway, five miles north and east of Yankee Stadium, in the Bronx. In 1926, the Gaelic Athletic Association purchased it to host the Gaelic Games. What are Gaelic Games? I’m a sliver Irish (just learned that a few years ago from a cousin who did some DNA stuff), but I didn’t know about such games until I asked the Google machine. Here you go, from the Wiki:

“Gaelic games (Irish: Cluichí Gaelacha) are sports played in Ireland under the auspices of the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA). They include Gaelic football, hurling, Gaelic handball and rounders. Women’s versions of hurling and football are also played: camogie, organised by the Camogie Association of Ireland, and ladies’ Gaelic football, organised by the Ladies’ Gaelic Football Association. While women’s versions are not organised by the GAA (with the exception of handball, where men’s and women’s handball competitions are both organised by the GAA Handball organisation), they are closely associated with it.”

Some to unpack there. What’s Gaelic football? It’s basically rugby. (The rules are probably way different, but this is a music blog, so don’t judge.) And hurling? Rugby with a small ball and sticks that look like sporty pizza paddles. (Again, don’t judge.) Gaelic handball? Racquetball, except you use your hands and you’re outside, not in some bougie health club from the ’80s. Finally, rounders? It’s actually alot like baseball. Pretty cool.

Why were the Dead there? A 9/2/71 piece in the Village Voice by Carman Moore, now archived on the Grateful Dead Sources blog, said that Gotham promoter Howard Stein, a Bill Graham competitor who booked the Dead to play at the Cap Theater in Port Chester, NY and the Academy of Music in NYC, had turned “the drab little Riverdale soccer field … into a summer rock mini-festival.” (Check out the poster above.) Moore’s writing has an early-70s sizzle, and he refers to his colleague, now-legendary rock scribe Robert Christgau. Here’s an excerpt:

“Last week’s Grateful Dead concert up at Gaelic Park was a usual Dead session, meaning that the band-to-fan-to-band electro-chemical process for which rock music is famed was on like high mass at Easter. Although I think I know most of the time what they are doing musically (Christgau will like this notion); I don’t quite understand them electro-chemically. Like the New York Knicks of two seasons ago, they can do excellent things together though they are not a group of deathless superstars. Garcia gets his songs across, but he can’t sing, and Bob Weir’s voice rises to about average…maybe better when he gets to screaming and the music sweeps him along. I still find it difficult to recognize the Dead songs that aren’t “Truckin'” or “St. Stephen” one from the other. I am not one of their fans, but seem to be one of their admirers. Their music speaks in a special language to their live listeners, and that language has the vocabulary of everybody else, but a convoluted syntax all its own. The note sequences are not completely dependent upon musical factors but are also dictated by how involved the band feels and also upon what kind of heat the audience is giving off. I’m trying to get to some essences of this thing.

The drama of a Dead concert revolves around the fact that wherever the band plays they know that a certain number (several tons) of their partisans will be there and that their crowd knows the Dead potential to excite them, but they also know that the Dead may not get into gear until the crowd begins to apply some heat, and so forth. Both parties also know that the concert will be long enough and informal enough for anything to happen on either side of the footlights, and so audiences improvise (smoke, go to the hot dog stand, kiss and snuggle, cheer, dance, listen like star-struck fools) just like their musician friends on stage (who play light and funny for awhile, retire backstage awhile, stand around, or get lost in a piece and turn on the heavy jets). Like good lovers, the Grateful Dead know the secrets of good foreplay, taking your time, surprising the partner for awhile, and then just reacting for a spell.”

The timing of the show seems odd. The band was on the East Coast in July, but began August back in Cali – LA, SD, Berkeley – before a three-night run at Chicago’s historic Auditorium Theater. Then they trekked back to NYC. Our resident Deaditor ECM explains that aspect: “This show was supposed to be played the day before the Yale Bowl concert on July 30, but some issues with the equipment trucks and/or weather prevented it from happening from the scheduled date. There are a few stories on the web about people who didn’t get the message (no twitter back then!) and dropped some acid only to show up to an empty stadium. Haha!”

Moore said that the show reminded him of “a high school stadium I used to know – low stands, unfulfilled infield grass, mud holes here and there, beer sold at one end in some quantity.” He continued:

“The formal shape of the concert was a general crescendo, light at the beginning and heavy-groovy at the end – not a shooting-star, call-the-law finale, just a heightened physical-emotional climate…the goods delivered as promised…sort of like good preaching in a church known to be a happy place. I did not enjoy their country-westernish opening tunes; maybe they didn’t either, because the pieces were awfully short. But by the three-quarter mark they had involved themselves, the crowd, and me too.

First they got the rhythm engaged and finally, courtesy of Jerry Garcia’s lead and interplays with Lesh and Weir, they went into the soloing and jamming which are the real magic music territory of this band. Much is made of the Dead soloists, but it became clear to me by last Thursday that bassist Phil Lesh plus those two drummers create the atmosphere that makes the Dead thing possible. The drummers were exceptionally understated, but Lesh kept bopping and thrumming away, heavily at all times, until his patterns were consistently getting the other players off. In the middle of “St. Stephen” there was a special coming together: Lesh had found a nice ambiguous but compelling set of licks; Garcia eased into a solo; Weir strummed a cross-time lick over all of it; it built; it quieted; Garcia started to play strange classical kind of lines; the drums dropped out; the audience got quiet; nothing at all could be predicted for a minute or so; then Lesh began to grope his way out with two chords and rhythms which began to regularize; audience began to jump and then to clap; guitars began to straighten out; the band came home to the cheers of the fans. Good music-making. The listener goes home without a little tune to whistle, but he hears music. As if they were finishing off some personal solos based over the last riffs heard, the fans went out of Gaelic Park without a thousand encores and without a lot of fuss on the streets outside.

It’s all very interesting, surprising, and I guess mystifying as before. All I know is that the Dead, or their fans, or the combination of both lure you into planning to return when they’re all assembled and back in town again.”

Apparently, there was some grief about bootlegs at this show. The GD Sources blog has a post that archives a 10/6/71 piece by the excellently-handled Basho Katzenjammer (Basho, the 17th Century Japanese haiku master; Katzenjammer, the German word for hangover) that gripes about an army of 200# “muscle freaks” at the direction of tour manager Sam Cutler liberating a handful of tapes from 100# weakling Johnny Lee. It’s a truly fun read. An excerpt:

“The biggest piece of shit spewing from Cutler’s mouth is about the reasons the Dead have for being so pissed off: they don’t like the quality (remember Garcia’s line in “I Got No Chance of Losin”? He says, “I’m only in it for the gold.” Yeah, music has a way of being more honest than the artist intends it to be at times…) The “quality”? Anyone who has bought a bootleg recently will know and agree that the bootleg stereo album called “Grateful Dead” is one of the best underground products yet. The tape was taken from a concert the group did at Winterland, on the coast a few months back. Yeah, Garcia fucks up a bit on “Casey Jones,” and Pigpen’s ego may have been deflated a bit by his voice coming over poorly on “Good Loving” but that was a concert. You do a concert and you stand by your performance, good or bad. That’s show business.

This effete artistic bullshit doesn’t matter anyway … When you’re out to get all the money you can out of your gigs, like the Dead seem to be (like all the groups seem to be) you might be accused of being a bit piggish; when you use strong-arm shit to insure that you get every last penny that you deserve — by making Amerikan standards — you are a Pig. Jerry Garcia, is that you?

Nobody buys that anti-bootleg shit about the artistic integrity of the artist in saying what goes out. One, you stand by your performance; two, even if you don’t want to, Jerry, somewhat, and say “all your private property is fair game for your brothers (especially when they sell records of concerts that don’t compete with coming releases) and your brother (who’s gonna continue to dig you as we live off your comets we’re gonna keep ripping you off because it is possible. As simple as that.” If you and Cutler and Stein continue your shit, though, we’ll just have to sing the song the same old way, you guys being put in the position of being the same old reactionary establishment that we’re all ripping off. It’s all around. You break your back playing gigs for ten years and suddenly success is staring you in the face. Bread: lots and lots of bread. You turn your back on your poor, ripping ’em off roots and start to tighten up. You’re in the biggest rip-off industry around, but no one cares as long as they’re having fun.

Money. That’s the whole story, isn’t it? If these were other times, in another land under a different set of rules maybe you could justifiably complain about the people who want to give your recorded performances out free because you didn’t screen them and pick out the sections you didn’t like and do them over for the cat, ’cause no one charges for their music, and because the means of production belong to the people, and they can turn out all the good sounds they can, and you have a natural right to screen all releases. But we’re here. Now. You guys are making millions — or soon will be. Money is power, especially as the concept of money is crumbling nation-wide and power freaks like Stein are cornering the market on it. The channels that the green-power the Dead bring in travel aren’t the healthiest for the generations of revolution to come. Stein is one of these hopeful images of a freak with a chance to change things positively gone sour, who uses all his power to consolidate his power; who’ll go to any extremes to insure the natural expansion of that power. Fuck him. Fuck you.”

Speak, Basho! Quaint that the beef about bootlegs back then was sound quality, rather than copyright. Stuff got figured out at some point, I think. Like when Bobby shut down the LMA, lmao.

Ed featured part of this show in the 2016 edition of his epcot 31 Days of Dead project. Here are his listening notes, which are typically spot-on (and better than than the not-quite-on-the-bus commentary from Mr. Moore):

“Less than three weeks after Pigpen’s definitive performance of Hard To Handle at the Hollywood Palladium (8/6/71), the Grateful Dead play the final date of their summer tour in 1971 at Gaelic Park in the Bronx. It will be Pig’s last show until December and the last time the band will ever perform in their original quintet configuration of Jerry, Phil, Pig, Billy and Bobby. By September, Keith will be rehearsing with the band to assume a full-time role on the keys. Perhaps anticipating his absence, Pigpen leads the band through 6 of his songs including the rarely-played Empty Pages and the last Hard To Handle. It is also one of the last performances of Saint Stephen, until the band revived it in 1976 with a major facelift, never to be played the same way again. When you consider these historical milestones along with the departure of Mickey Hart and the closings of the legendary Fillmore East and West earlier in the year it makes you realize that this concert carried a little more weight than anyone could have ever foreseen at the time. It truly was the end of a chapter in the life of the Grateful Dead. As you listen to each song you can’t help but feel a certain degree of nostalgia.

For me, the hidden gem of the show is the outstanding version of Uncle Johns Band. Jerry’s first guitar solo is an absolute joy to hear. His notes sing with irresistible melody and happy sunshine which perfectly capture the nostalgia of those carefree early years. If you listen closely you can hear Pigpen playing the wood claves.”

Speaking of Pig, this show features the second and final performance of Empty Pages. The NYS Music blog, which has a nice write-up of this show, describes it as a McKernan original that “pairs his traditional crooning style with a slow blues jam that’s nicely peppered with fiery guitar licks from Garcia. It’s a true rarity and a shame that the band wouldn’t be able to further develop this one.”

youtube

I feel like this was a try-hard post. It might be tl;dr, idk. Here’s the true goodness…

Transport to the Charlie Miller remaster of the soundboard recording HERE.

More soon.

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#IFTTT #WordPress

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godxforsaken · 4 years ago

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Ooc: My personal review of 2020

So the year ends and a new year starts and now I was thinking about a review of the things that happened during 2020. To be honest I never thought I would make it... never thought I would be still able to be here.

To be honest during this year I was in a dark and deep place and that I could come out of it wasn’t as easy... I... only lived for my work... I worked 9 hours per day and from home to work and work to my home I was like 3 hours gone... in total I was like 12 hours not at my home and as all that COVID started it became worse for me too... I went to work, went home, slept and went back to work and that’s like every day, on weekends I stayed home... also my dog became seriously sick and had an emergency operation in the middle of the year which almost had cost her life, suffering from the meds and barely could eat and drink.. I have almost lost her and if I hadn’t fought for her, she wouldn’t be with me...

Since there was nothing I could do to compare my mental health became worse again... it went for month, actually became heavy, my downs were more stronger than ever before... often ending up after work to cry on my way home or crying to sleep... insomnia that followed... my body started to hurt, my head hurt as well, day by day, I got itchy and also hurting spots which seemed to be an allergic reaction out of sudden, my motivation for everything lowered drastically... I had thoughts which... right now I don’t want to describe... after I had a breakdown I was for six weeks sick (what was the worst decision ever) I went back to work, being full in chaos mode, also all of that affected my playing with Mikaru... anyway... I am here... I started all over and yeah... I am thankful to you all... especially those:

@hxghlysuspect Seriously... I never thought that you would come back to me... after two years we were separated because of a fight... you don’t know how happy it made me after I saw you followed me... you don’t even know how suspicious I was because of your account as you started to follow, I observed you seriously until you wrote things about that one special character which has a place in Mikarus heart. Hiroki... only then I was like “Do I write him first? Or should I wait?”, until I decided to write you a “Hello stranger~”, haha. You know how my heart was racing? I was excited about how you react and it was good that we both talked to each other about what have happened and it still makes me happy to write with you, may it be ooc or ic... I love you, Honey. 😘

@hibiki-the-beast Well well well, what should I say about my sweet sweet kitten? Damn I cannot say anything just that I am happy that you also followed my new blog and that we both still write with each other as well that we write with your other characters, thank you so much. Ich hab dich gern, Schnuckel. 😘

@hiro-bloodlust What should I say? Well... let me say it like that and in German: Du bist ein Idiot. Ein großer Idiot, eine der größten Idioten, der mir je im Leben untergekommen ist... wie kann es nur sein, dass du so doof bist? Und trotzdem... ich hab dich gern, du bist mein Schatzi und das solltest du nicht vergessen, außerdem könntest du auch gerne von dir aus mich anschreiben, Erbsenprinzessin. 😂 Zudem: Glaub an dich und lerne dich selbst lieben, ohne das du immer daran denkst, wie andere dich sehen. Du bist ein wundervoller Mensch. Hach, fertig mit dem rant: Ich liebe dich trotzdem, Doofnuss. 😘

Also I am thankful to: @taka-oneokrock, @loveflush-rp, @misuirana, @dexcore-k, @ka-rules and a lot of others which I write, you all makes it worth to be here and stay in contact, really I love you all. Also when I often write back after some time and or drop our threads, sorry for that.

#~ooc thoughts~

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jardin-des-anges · 4 years ago

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Muses + Short Mun Bio

My name is Lana, and I’m the mun of this blog. I’m a high school student who primarily writes horror and mystery stories, with emphasis on lying, manipulation, and physical and psychological torment, but I enjoy simpler, more slice-of-life stories, so long as there’s a good plot. My pronouns are she / they.

Muses are right below the cut!!

Adrian Michaels - A dancer performing alongside her sister all across America. She’s rather shy, but with her performances, she’s found herself becoming a bit more outgoing. She normally wears darker colors. Her resolve is stronger than it seems, and she’s normally the voice of reason in dire situations. 24 years old || Female || She / they || 5′ 7″ || African-American || Bisexual

Bella Michaels - A singer performing alongside her sister all across America. She’s outgoing and loves people, and wants to gain friends and fans all over the country. She wears brighter colors. She’s often rash and impulsive, but keeps herself from lashing out at others. Her entire life, she’s enjoyed sewing, and makes both her and her sister’s costumes. 24 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 8″ || African-American || Heterosexual

Caden Contiman - A former college student who dropped out due to a variety of factors, mainly emotional stress. He lives with his parents and isn’t allowed to leave the house, but he sneaks out at night and stays out until dawn before heading home to sleep all day. He studied psychology in college, which has led to an almost intimate knowledge of the human mind and an ability to read almost any emotion and action. He’s somewhat cruel, and tends to play mean-spirited pranks on everyone who catches his eye. He doesn’t allow anyone to know anything personal about him, but always pries into others’ lives and minds. 19 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 10″ || Welsh || Homosexual

Casey Allman - A strange writer who works himself near death. He’s believed to be the only living member of his family, and spent quite a bit of time in the limelight during the collapse of the Allman family, which was spread out over three years. He’s antisocial, and freezes up if confronted by another person. The only thing that seems to bring him any joy anymore is his writing. When describing things, he goes into way more detail than is necessary. He has several bizarre quirks that tend to freak out the people around him. 22 years old || Male || He / they || 5′ 11″ || Korean-American || Homosexual

Charlie Patten - An assassin who travels the world, learning about every place he goes on every mission. While on missions, he poses as a tourist, and when the job’s done, he doesn’t bother to stick around for much longer. He’s rather confident, bordering on cocky, and can rarely be swayed to do something if money isn’t involved. When he’s not on the job, he’s a pretty sweet and approachable guy, if always on-guard and somewhat suspicious of everyone. 24 years old || Male || He / him || 6′ 1″ || Canadian || Bisexual

Christopher Simon - A waiter living in a large city, having to work multiple jobs to support himself and his younger brother. He’s quite cynical, which is different from his more optimistic, sweet little brother. He only does things for money, even if it’s unethical or dangerous. His constant struggle to survive has spawned a distaste for frivolous things or luxuries, seeing them as a waste of money. Despite being so cynical (and, for the most part, tired), he completely changes when around his brother, washing away to show a happier, much less tense. He despises his appearance and avoids mirrors and other reflective surfaces. 25 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 9″ || British || Homosexual

“Cian” - A mysterious chemist living on the edge of a small town in Ireland, calling himself an alchemist. He has a love of plants, wild animals, and nature in general, a love only heightened by the dense forest behind his home. He’s very quiet and somewhat secretive, but passionate about his work and loves to talk about it. He can be quite blunt or uncooperative at times, but he does enjoy company, especially when the discussion turns to chemicals. 25 years old || Male || He / him || 6′ 6″ || Irish || Homosexual

Ciara McCormack - A ruthless queen whose family has ruled a small part of southern Ireland for generations. Having been raised with a cutthroat mentality and trained to eliminate all competition, Ciara has grown up to have that exact approach to everything in her life, making her a fearsome opponent to say the least. She’s quick to cut out anything she doesn’t need, which includes banishing or even executing anyone who even shows any chance of being a danger to her reign. 27 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 9″ || Irish || Heterosexual

Corianna Sutton - An assistant investigator to her older cousin Evian, despite not fully believing in ghosts. She has a bit of an obsession with fire, which is shown in the burn scars and bandages covering the right side of her body. She’s cynical but still friendly and approachable, although her demeanor can come off as bizarre. She drinks often, and keeps a flask painted with the lesbian flag hooked on her belt. 28 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 6″ || German || Homosexual

Daniel Hirsch - A teenage street urchin and graffiti artist who is almost never seen without his sister. He’s annoying and troublemaking, but not without a kind heart. He doesn’t find it easy to make friends, but considers that unimportant, knowing that he’ll always have his twin by his side. He’s more verbally restrained than his sister, but just as irritating as she is. 14 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 4″ || German || Bisexual

Evian Sutton - A paranormal investigator who explores all sorts of “haunted” places, recording them for her YouTube channel. She doesn’t always carry around all of her equipment, but she makes sure to keep a recorder on her at all times. She’s unapproachable and abrasive, and isn’t very friendly towards anyone other than her younger cousin Corianna. Normally, when she’s approached by someone else, she’ll simply brush them off with a few crass words. She’s normally very uninterested when it comes to most things, but the paranormal piques her interest and gets her truly passionate. 29 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 9″ || German || Asexual

Grace Hirsch - A teenage street urchin and graffiti artist who is almost never seen without her brother. She’s a loudmouth with little control over what she says, and she often instigates fights, even without meaning to. She has a teddy bear she carries with her everywhere, with rips and patches all over it, that she considers the closest thing to her aside from her brother. Every possession she owns is stored inside of a large backpack she carries slung over one shoulder. 14 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 4″ || German || Heterosexual

Kai “Shōakuma” Misaki - A high school student often accompanied outside of school by his loyal falcon Chieko. He’s social and charismatic, with an ability to capture almost anyone’s attention with his wild stories. He’s absolutely fascinated by history, especially religion, as well as the supernatural. Despite his eccentricities, he’s a good person, with a strong moral compass and a warm, kind heart. 17 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 2″ || Japanese || Bisexual

Kunimasa Sakurai - A young man living with his family while attending the local college. He’s stuck to a strict fitness regimen for years, and has a passion for physical health, believing it links back to everything in one’s life. He holds family and friendship close to his heart, and would die to protect the people he loves. 20 years old || Male || He / they || 5′ 6″ || African-Japanese || Asexual

Landon Garrison - A bounty hunter residing on the deep web, hidden behind the pseudonym “Black Mask”. For a price, he can find anyone’s personal information and give it to his client. He doesn’t socialize much, preferring to hide indoors on his computer. When he is accompanied by someone else, he’s notably tense, and refuses to do anything that can make him seem vulnerable. 24 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 11″ || British || Bisexual

Logan Garrison - A talented painter who has somehow lacked emotions since birth. He’s managed to learn how to adapt to any situation and show whatever emotions he needs to, comparing it to painting, and despite his inability to feel empathy, he’s able to sympathize with others, and knows right from wrong. He’s extremely protective of his brother, Landon, and fears for his safety, knowing the dark web can be dangerous. Most of his life is taken up by his art. 24 years old || Male || He / him || 6′ 1″ || British || Asexual

Lyrica Jansen - A wealthy heiress with a high net worth. Her older sister vanished mysteriously, causing her to become the sole heir to the family fortune. She looks dangerous and unkind, but despite her icy exterior, she’s kind and welcoming to others, but not without many threats towards those who disobey her. Her clothing and jewelry are elaborate and she’s quite tall, making her somewhat intimidating to be around. 19 years old || Female || She / her || 6′ 3″ || Dutch || Homosexual

Maysilee Patten - A former soldier on the search for the people who destroyed her home. She’s a sweet person, but her fuse is unbelievably short, and she’s easily sent into a rage. She’s skilled with nearly every kind of weapon, her preferred weapon being knives. Her loyalty is unmatched, but so is her ability to hold a grudge. 22 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 10″ || Irish || Pansexual

Minka Himura - A sarcastic high school student working part-time at her family’s butcher shop, deli, and restaurant. She loves to play pranks on her family and classmates, some of which have dangerous consequences. Although she’s quite mean-spirited, she has a soft spot for her siblings, and is a hard worker. 16 years old || Female || She / they || 5′ 3″ || Polish-Japanese || Questioning

Myla Crimm - A doll-like teenager with a knack for collecting random items. They don’t speak much, and prefer to blend into the background. She resides in her childhood home, which is now decrepit after the death of her mother. Because they live alone, they have quite a bit of experience and can take care of themself just fine. He’s levelheaded, but curious, and is aware of how off-putting he can sometimes appear to others. 18 years old || Genderfluid || She / he / they || 5′ 4″ || American || Bisexual

Onacona Pierce - A high school student and the head of his school’s music club. He’s a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to instruments, playing most, if not all, with skill, but he prefers the guitar. He’s easygoing and fun to be around, with an unexpected love of horror movies and literature. They have an online presence where they perform music. Currently, he mostly performs covers, but he’s been starting to write more and more original work. 17 years old || Male || He / they || 5′ 11″ || Native American || Heterosexual

Reiko Wakabayashi - A hardworking surgeon traveling overseas to perform surgeries for the less fortunate. She was a child prodigy, and as such, had a lot of pressure put on her to succeed; pressure that has resulted in a constant need to do well and please everyone else. Although she’s quite quiet, she’s fine with large groups, and loves to have her ear talked off by someone who’s passionate about someone. She cares deeply for children, women, and weak or ill people. 27 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 6″ || Japanese || Asexual

“Rusty” - A runaway fleeing the law and their past. He’s plagued by several problems with his health, including blindness, an extremely low weight, and a whole host of diseases. Because of these problems, he tries to remain in one place for as long as he can to restore his stamina, but he refuses to stay somewhere for longer than two weeks. He resembles a skeleton. They’re constantly paranoid, avoiding human contact as much as possible and relying only on their own intuition and four working senses to help them. 25 years old || Demiboy || He / they || 5′ 9″ || Korean-American || Pansexual

Sam Fields - A mechanic working at their family-owned autobody shop. They spend most of their time holed away in the garage, hard at work, smeared with oil and gasoline. Most of their skeleton is metal and most of their skin is covered in burn scars due to a past accident. They’re social and warm, and very physically affectionate. They can be reckless, even if they’re warned about dangers. 25 years old || Non-binary || They / them || 5′ 7″ || American || Bisexual

Shira Hadley - A pickpocket who’s normally only found darting through crowds, stealing trinkets and jewelry, and before someone can realize something’s gone, she’s already vanished. She had her vocal cords cut as a teenager, resulting in her being completely unable to communicate outside of noises, half-uttered syllables, and gestures. Due to her constant fear of getting caught, she tends to stick to shadows, and is extremely paranoid when encountered by anyone. 21 years old || Female || She / her || 5′ 7″ || Dutch || Grey-Asexual

Volya Orlov - A DJ who’s famous at several different clubs. He’s rebellious and tough, but mostly friendly towards people on his side. A bizarre incident has altered his body to the point where he emits sparks when he gets emotional, which is why many of his friends call him “Sparkplug” or “Sparky”. He’s often spotted alone, but doesn’t mind company. 21 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 9″ || Russian || Heterosexual

William Simon - A child living with his older brother, who’s struggling to make ends meet. He recognizes the sacrifices his brother makes for him and wants to help, but is stopped and always told not to grow up too quickly. He often stays at his brother’s main workplace, a small cafe and diner, where he sits in the breakroom, coloring and talking with the other workers when they come in for their own breaks. He’s friendly, but cautious, having been taught to always be careful around others. 12 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 2″ || British || Asexual

Zenjiro Himura - A peculiar man whose family has owned and operated a combination butcher shop, deli, and restaurant in the heart of Kotohira, Kagawa for generations. He’s the eldest of sixteen siblings, all living and working with their mother. He’s approachable and friendly, but has a knack for getting excited over extremely macabre and disturbing things. As the oldest brother, he has an instinct to protect and care for anyone younger or weaker than he is. 26 years old || Male || He / him || 5′ 9″ || Japanese || Pansexual

#muses #oc's #rp muses #oh god there are so many #a lot of them are bisexual #but in my defense i am also bisexual

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cynicalrainbows · 5 years ago

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The Next Best Thing Chapter 9

Anne tells her the big news over lunch.

Cathy is eating lukewarm school pasta; Anne has a Mary lunch.

(Anne is the only person Cathy knows who has three sorts of school lunches- what they call Jane lunch, Mary lunch and Fancy lunch.

Usually- when things are normal-ish, when she’s just at home like normal and it’s Mary’s job to take her to school, she gets a Mary lunch, which means whatever sandwich Mary has made in a rush, in between feeding Baby Catherine and getting herself ready and checking Anne is wearing school uniform and not her Ninja turtles tshirt (although sometimes Mary forgets to check the last one).

Mary lunches are mostly ok, except that they’re usually a bit squashed....although once Mary was SO tired from being up with Baby Catherine she forgot to put in a filling and Anne had to pretend to the other children on the lunch table that she’d just asked for bread and butter that day.

(They didn’t look like they believed her.)

The other end of the scale is a Fancy lunch, and there’s only two times Anne gets one of those: either after the Mary lunch has been especially bad (or when she gets secret lunch option number four- which is actually no lunch at all because Mary forgot to pick up bread, or picked up the bread but forgot the making-the-sandwich part or remembered the bread and the sandwich making part but forgot to put it in Anne’s bag) and their teacher has called Anne over to ask, in hushed tones, Is Everything Alright At Home?

The other time is after something else has slipped a bit (once when Mary was sick, Anne didn’t come to school for two days) and the ‘chat’ has turned into a phone call.

And that’s when Anne gets a Fancy lunch.

Fancy lunches are never the same but always ten times nicer than whatever anyone else has for lunch that day, because no one actually makes them, Anne’s mum orders them from a special company who spend all their time just making fancy lunches that can fit into a lunchbox- tiny wraps with fancy fillings skewered on cocktail sticks and rolls of rice and seaweed in pretty patterns and little individual quiches.

The only bad thing about them is that they never last for more than a few days and then lunch making becomes Mary’s job again and it can be a bit disappointing to suddenly get a squashed marmite sandwich instead of the fancy lunch-in-a-box you were expecting.

Jane lunches are sort of in the middle of the two, Cathy supposes.

They’re never as fancy as the Fancy lunches (Jane doesn’t seem to shop at the places that sell quinoa and lemongrass) and they’re not exciting really, just sandwiches and fruit.

Then again, they always always have things that Anne definitely likes in them, whereas there’s nearly always a bit of the Fancy lunch that she has to pick off and set aside because she doesn’t like it, like the truffles that didn’t look or taste at all like chocolate.

They’re never as pretty as the Fancy lunches either but Jane does things like cutting off the crusts and peeling the apple and cutting it into slices that Anne’s mum never seems to want to do when it’s her actually fixing the food.

(It makes the food taste nice.)

The best thing about Jane’s lunches is that she never gets cross if a bit of it doesn’t get eaten, apart from to ask if Anne wants something else next time. She never gets ‘I don’t know why I even bother paying for nice things for you’ angry like Anne’s dad did when he found out about the uneaten truffles-that-were-really-mushrooms.

And if she’s done any baking- and Jane bakes a LOT- there’s always a biscuit or a little piece of cake or a pastry twist wrapped up carefully in greaseproof paper, ready for Anne to split in half and share with Cathy in return for all the times that Cathy shared her own food on no-lunch days.

Cathy doesn’t have packed lunches now that she’s with Catalina but she has sometimes wondered what they’d be like and she figures they’d probably be closer to the Jane lunches than the Fancy lunches.

Oddly enough, the thought does not make her feel all that disappointed.

Anne tells her the Big News right away, because she can’t keep secrets, and the big news is that Anne’s getting to have a sleepover for her birthday.

Cathy asks when and Anne says that it’ll be on the Saturday coming because that’s when her birthday is going to be.

Cathy knows when Anne’s birthday is- she has it written down in the furry purple My Secret Diary that she got for Christmas, because there’s a section to write down things about your friends, and she has Anne written down first because she’s her best friend- and she feels a bit guilty, like maybe she should have remembered.

Anne doesn’t seem to mind though.

Anne says that when she asked her mum the night before what she was doing for her birthday this year, and could they go to Splash Zone again like last year, her mum had nodded and said YesMaybeAskDaddy (which is how she answers lots of things).....and then she’d sat up, and she’d put down her glossy magazine and checked something on her phone and her eyes had gone very wide.

So instead of SplashZone- because now there isn’t time to book it before the weekend, Anne’s getting a sleepover party.

Part of the treat is the sleepover, according to Anne, and part of the treat is meant to be that she doesn’t have to share the sleepover with Kitty, even though Kitty lives at Anne’s house most of the time.

Anne says she doesn’t mind sharing her bedroom but she IS glad Kitty isn’t going to be at the sleepover.

According to Anne, Kitty hasn’t been much fun at all since Uncle Edmund dropped her off and she won’t play anything that Anne wants to play anymore, even when Anne offers her usual chocolate button bribe, and it turns out it’s VERY hard to play even easy games like chase when it’s only you.

Actually, Anne isn’t sure if she should be cross about this or not because it’s not just that Kitty won’t play Anne’s games, she doesn’t seem to want to play anything at all: she just clings to Jane’s skirt, waiting for her to finish whatever she’s doing and sit down so that she can she can fold herself up small in Jane’s lap.

She clings to a handful of Jane’s shirt with one hand and only raggedly old Pink Kitty with the other, like she’s afraid someone is going to take one or both of them away if she lets go, sucking her thumb and not saying a word.

And when she isn’t silent- which is honestly most of the time, according to Anne- she’s having huge screaming tantrums over stupid things like cleaning her teeth or putting on her pajamas. Cathy finds it hard to imagine Kitty- who was quiet as a mouse nearly all the time, even before Edmund- even raising her voice once let alone screaming but Anne assures her that it’s true.

She says that it’s giving her a headache.

Her mum and dad and Mary are officially Losing Patience, which is why Kitty is going to be with Jane for a bit.

Officially, it’s as part of Anne’s birthday treat, but Anne thinks they were planning it anyway because she heard Mary complaining to her mum, and then she heard her Mum talking on the phone to someone about being At The End of Her Tether, and she kept shaking her head and looking over at where Kitty was curled up in a little ball on the edge of the sofa, not even watching the tv (although Anne had specially foregone Rugrats for the boring baby program about the baggy pink cat because Kitty liked it).

Or, Kitty used to like it.

Now she doesn’t seem to like very much at all anymore.

Mary and Anne’s Mum and Dad don’t seem to mind Kitty being extra quiet but they do mind the tantrums- and the way Kitty has started waking up in the night crying and disturbing everybody when Some People Have To Work In The Morning Fergodsake, and the way the Reception teacher has started to call home because she’s ‘concerned’.

Jane calls round too when she hears that Anne’s dad has taken away the Barbie Kitty got for promising not to suck her thumb anymore, and says they all need to make allowances right now, whatever that means.

She and Anne’s mum drink cappuccinos- because Anne’s mum has a special expensive new machine that makes them- and Jane talks about reassurance and sense of security and unconditional love, while Anne’s mum talks about discipline and consequences and legal custody.

Eventually Anne’s mum tells Jane that she’s not a social worker anymore so she needs to stop acting like one, and that Kitty isn’t a baby any more and they need to stop coddling her, that maybe Edmund was right about some things.

And then Jane goes home.

So Kitty won’t be at the sleepover, Anne says. It’ll be just her and Cathy- and Anna.

Cathy tries to smile and look pleased that Anna’s invited too- it’s not that she doesn’t like her, exactly, it’s just that for Anne’s first sleepover, she’d rather it was just them.

It’s a bit easier to be properly happy when Anne tells Anna because Anna looks excited but also a bit surprised too- as if she’s not expecting to be asked. That makes Cathy feel better. It reminds her that Anna really isn’t out to steal her best friend, which is something Catalina reminds her of whenever she seems to need it.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, my mum said I could have two friends.’ Anne nibbles the crust of her sandwich (peanut butter) delicately, trying to make the edges of the bread straight.

‘I’ll ask Mutti when I get home- she’ll say yes, she’ll be happy I’m making friends-’ Anna beams. ‘I used to have sleepovers back home- back in Germany. With my old friends.’

‘Cool!’

Cathy takes another bite of soggy school lasagne and wonders why Anna always has to bring her old home into everything.

It’s sort of interesting to hear but it also makes her wonder if there’s anything that Anna hasn’t done or seen before everyone else.

She wants to ask what German sleepovers are like but then she doesn’t.

(Whatever they’re like, they’re probably a hundred times cooler than whatever English sleepovers.)

#the next best thing #six #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #sixfic #six fanfiction

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