#flammable grunge

[neocogent]

Fomapan 200 developed in home made Parodinal.

[no-name-publishing]

Kill the Director by erikschampion

My part in a gift exchange taking place in Renegade's California satellite server. This was a lot of fun and very experimental for me. My idea was to pursue something a little grunge, a little smudged, to go along with the early 2000s Brit punk vibe that the fic gets its title from. Spray paint, screen printing, some blood, some tears, and it's to its new home. Glamour and process shots under the cut!

The yellow base is a plain linen bookcloth that's been coated with acrylic. The pink accent color is a combo of spray paint and smudges of pink Golden Fluid acrylic paint. The endbands are sewn with Gutermann polyester florescent sewing thread, and the endpages are my attempt at an italian vein marble with pink, yellow, and black paint.

Some shots of the typesetting, and a video showing the book as a whole. The fic has some exposition written in a script format, so I typeset that to reflect. And it's always fun to include text message bubbles and emails and stuff.

The graphics on the case were done with screens and waterbased screen printing ink! I went through a few iterations and even tried to set my kitchen on fire in order to get it right before settling on the screens. I'm very very pleased with the result. (The fire was from my DIY attempt at making my own gelli plate with gelatin, glycerin, and rubbing alcohol. All the instructions were telling me to be careful about how many bubbles I was stirring into the mix but I was like, it'll be fine. I'll use my heatgun or a lighter to pop whatever bubbles are there. It works with resin so it should here. Yall alcohol is flammable lmao. Why did I do that. I put my lighter up to those bubbles and lost my vision for a moment at the flash of light. I've never done something that stupid)

The freshly marbled paper hanging up to dry in my kitchen; the screen for the front of the case; my practice piece including the spine design; the case drying on my shower rod (along with some pieces of fabric for another project lol). I have fewer process pictures than I thought lol.

The graphics on the front and back were also partially designed by hand. I printed images of the characters then cut them vertically, and alternated the slices. Copied that, then did the same horizontally. Scanned that, and then did some cleaning up digitally on my computer. Here's some shots of the steps and the pieces themselves.

The third picture shows my first attempt, as I actually did this process twice. The first time I didn't feel like the first pass was pixelated enough, so I cut it again both vertically and horizontally and alternated them once more. This was a mess, and ultimately I didn't like the finished result. Round two (second image) was the final round, and what wound up using in the project instead.

Thanks for looking!

[inkher0]

Rank from most emo to least emo

Oh this is so funny to me because Ive actually thought about this

Tim and Toby are the same level of Emo, but Tim is an MCR Emo and Toby is a Midwestern Emo. ignore the fact I wrote Toby is from North California

Kate is also emo, but she's Tumblr Emo. She's the one that's got all the anime buttons on her bag and wears the messenger hat

Doby is Scene Emo, he'd do the stripe thing to his hair but its too curly to look right and he is NOT making his hair more flammable with Toby and Natalie around

Natalie isn't Emo, she's pure Grunge. She genuinely hates screamo lol

Skully is Emo by default because he doesn't own any clothes that have color, but he can't relate to a single song

Brian doesn't dress Emo, but his taste in music implies he would get Very Bored hanging out with anyone but Emos. He likes the Weirdos, mister

Nathan calls them all Goth without blinking

[illeatyourbrain]

[bornlistening]

[nostalgic-pancakes]

Room 73- Chapter 4/8

Summary: D&D is planned, two characters get their very own breakdowns, Thomas reminisces, and Virgil has one good day

Pairings: (eventual) QPP’s Remus and Patton, Pre-Relationship prinxiety, sibling-y Virgil and Original Character, Creativitwins

Read on AO3

Word count: 3326

Warnings: Questionable parenting, period-typical homophobia, the foster system, semi-graphic (?) depictions of violent death, rage breakdown, nervous breakdown, minor arson.

Other notes: None!

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Logan quite frankly had no idea what Janus meant by ‘friendly hissing’. All hissing was a warning sign to potential prey, and wasn’t friendly in any incarnation! How could certain kinds of hissing be friendly? They all sound the same!

This was a level of insanity nearly topping Neil DeGrasse Tyson playing Merlin in the fucking Sharknado movies. But not really. That would top everything. Either way, Janus, someone who also hissed rather often (information citation being Patton) was likely the superior authority in tonal hissing. Logan’s a bit too sleep-deprived looking up resources for ghosts and surviving midterms to care too much.

Either way, the Dungeons and Dragons planning session was starting today. Everyone would be there at lunch this time and that meant that one, he would get to see his brother for the first time since homeroom (no common classes on Wednesdays was not ideal), and meeting with the rest of their newfound friends.

(Logan had never had anyone other than Virgil, and the rest seem to be alright. Janus knows, anyways, and he didn’t hate Logan for it, so it’s probably alright. He hopes it’s alright.)

“Lo-Lo!! Over here!” comes a friendly voice from his northeast. It’s Patton, who’s waving at him, glasses crooked, big smile. Logan fixes his glasses, and tries to smile back. It works, and even feels real.

Patton from up close certainly looks a bit tired, but he’s still happy enough, so Logan refrains from pointing it out.

When they reach the lunch table tentatively labeled as ‘theirs’, Virgil scoots over to let Logan slot between him and Roman, while Patton curls up next to Janus, relishing being with their siblings again, as much as friends are ‘neat’.

(Maybe he’s been getting back into Welcome to Night Vale. Maybe Amma cried and hugged him, calling it progress and Mom sat next to him and listened to her own show, the Magnus Archives and held him close. Maybe Virgil squeezed him tight and brought out the ‘What the Fuck is Happening in Night Vale’ board they’d made when they were twelve. He’d never tell)

Remus starts to hand out sheets of paper, asking everyone to draw their characters while he and Virgil work on plot, and it’s quiet in that little space of three pairs of siblings sketching out D&D characters, later talking about little things, big things and everything in between in the courtyard because the senior kids had exams and therefore none of them had last period. It was pleasant, and they’d all be paying their third ever group visit to Thomas later in the afternoon, too.

This was nice.

…

“Hey, Vi?” Hildi asked from behind him. They were sitting back-to-back, on her bed listening to a new album from All Time Low. The name didn’t matter too much yet.

“Yeah, Di?”

“Wanna do low level arson?” she asked, turning to face him and reclaiming her earbud. This was probably a terrible idea, but Hildi was the one person he wasn’t scared of acting out horrific ideas with. He smiles, and it’s reflected in Hildi’s eyes, dark green like the forest she lives in.

“Sure, why not?” he gets up, and Hildi turns around again for him to take his binder off and put on a sports bra, before putting his jumper (that Patton had given him for his birthday last week) back on, and patting his jean pockets for his phone. Once he knew everything was there, Hildi turned back to him, took his hand and led him outside. - “Okay, so how did you possibly, in any fucking timeline convince me to set fire to your old ‘Secret Diaries’ in the middle of the very flammable woods as if it was, at all, anything REMOTELY RESEMBLING a good idea?!”

“The power of friendship, Virge. Don’t fret, the damages are going to be well hidden in a week.”

“Oh my god but this is how forest fires start, were we crazy?!”

“Virgil calm down, nothing is more than slightly scorched, nothing is dead, and we caught every last ember! You’d know!”

“How would I know? Isn’t that more your department?”

“Spend enough time with a witch, and this is what happens. I regret nothing.”

“I regret so many things.”

“Sadness.” - “Hey, scaredy-bro, Love you.” Hildi whispers into the night, and Virgil remembers nights like this in middle school, when he started to realise that not everyone was as scared as him all the time, and he’d become more scared because everyone was watching, and laughing, and--

And Hildi had been there, a casual acquaintance from primary school becoming his best friend becoming his kind of sister because what other word is there (?), offering him trash earbuds that made the grunge music sound that much grungier, and holding him close on the nights Logan came home, unable to speak, covered in bruises, never letting Virgil tell their parents even though Logan was their twin and Virgil was so scared-- She caught him as he fell, and he hopes that she knows that he’ll forever be grateful for it.

“Love you too, you fucking danger noodle.”

Hildi chucks a throw pillow at him. It misses by at least three feet, falling off the shared bed. They both giggle, loud enough that Hildi’s mum ‘ssh’’s them from her own room, audible even with the closed door.

Three hours later, knowing full well that Virgil’s been on tumblr this whole time, Hildi whispers again.

“Hey, let’s look for Kelpies in the creek tomorrow”

This is an awful idea. But it has fewer environmental ramifications.

“Sure, why not. After December break?”

“Fuck yeah.”

They don’t last a lot longer after that.

…

Virgil wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find when he went to check on Roman, after it was ten minutes past final bell and he still hadn’t shown in the chemistry room after going back to pick up his papers.

Having a minor breakdown was not on that list, even though murder was. Virgil’s brain needed new priorities.

“Ro-Ro, Roman, what’s happening?”

“I-I can’t Virgil, I can't do it, please, I’m sorry” Virgil’s hands clenched tighter onto Roman’s shirt collar, knuckles white from the worry.

“You can't do what, Roman?” he asks, as gently as he can

“I-I’m so scared, Virgil. Mom’s not doing well, Dad’s doing the opposite of helping, and Remus and I don’t know what to do, Virgil. They keep f-fighting. The last time we tried to tell, it was by accident, and Mom had gotten so mad, and she’d said “If you keep talking about how Mom and Dad fight, then there won’t be a mom and dad’ and I can’t-- I can’t live without her, I can’t, Virgil!” Roman blubbers into his shirt, staining his hoodie and and pressing against his (currently unbound, but no big deal) chest, but Virgil literally could not give a shit about his hoodie right then, pulling him closer and cradling Roman’s head in the crook of his neck, one hand in his (fluffy, holy shit is this cotton?) hair, the other cradling his back. Roman smells like wood and some kind of flower.

“Have you told her any of this, Ro?” Virgil asks, and Romab lets out a bigger sob, burying himself into Virgil’s torso. Virgil knew that Roman’s parents weren’t on the best of terms right now, even though they kept trying to be good parents, but this? This was new.

“I c-can’t because-hic- She’ll get more upset, and she’s alsways so close to snapping and i can’t tell dad because he’ll get angry and I can’t tell Remus because he knows but he doesn’t, he doesn’t---fuck”

“Doesn’t?” prompts Virgil, softly into Roman’s hair, muffled by the soft chestnut curls.

“know, not same as I do, he doesn’t get sad, he gets mad, and he doesn’t want to become like dad but he stops talking and locks himself in rooms to not yell at people and I don- I don’t wanna make it worse.” he says softly, and Virgil starts stroking his hair, as a way to try and calm Roman down, trying not to cry a bit himself. He wishes, in a horrible way, that this was a panic attack. He doesn’t know what to do here.

“Could you find a way to maybe more quietly tell her to stay, perhaps?” asks Virgil again, even quieter this time. Roman more feels the words than he hears them, a soothing sort of humming.

“But it’s so selfish, isn’t it? That I think that? She deserves to be happy, and if being without us is happy, then she should, right? But I can’t do this with just my dad- he’s trying, but I can’t, help, please.”

And Virgil doesn’t know what to do, or what to say anymore. So he just holds Roman tighter in that very small corner in the 9-D classroom, and Roman clutches back until he’s cried it out entirely, and is ready to face everyone else. It’s been a few minutes, but they can clean up real quick.

Virgil takes out his spare hoodie and changes into it, Roman with his back turned in the boy’s bathroom, while Roman fixes his hair and washes the drying tear tracks off of his face, which were starting to feel like a mask on his face. He tries for a smile, and it’s small, but at least it’s real.

Virgil passes him a granola bar, and Roman hesitates for a second, before smiling again, taking it in hand and pocketing it. Roman offers his hand for Virgil to take, and he does, feeling the softness of Roman’s hands in comparison to his own, long and calloused with fidget rings on both hands. He squeezes.

Virgil looks up at Roman again, and they share a small smile, before walking out of the bathroom, hand in hand.

Wait- why are his hands glowing?

“Fuck you, Hildi.” he muttered under his breath.

“Huh, what?” Roman looked back at him, questioningly.

“Uh, nothing. Just thinking. ‘Cmon.” he smiles again, and he means it. With Roman, it feels like all his fears can be kept aside for another day.

…

“Oh my god, Remus, no you cannot make yourself a dwarven stripper this is a PG-13 D&D game oh my god--”

Remus looks up from the (probably very gory) conversation he’s having with Patton to reply to Virgil. “And why not? Minnie could be a stripper in the way back!”

“Just… no, thanks.”

“UUUUUGH, you’re no FUN, Virgey.”

“C’mon Bro, you could be… I dunno, a taxidermist?” Remus gets the manic glint back in his eye, snatching his sheet back from Virgil to add in the new information, scribbling frantically. His handwriting is already nigh impossible to read on a good day, so he’d better be able to read his own character sheet.

“Hey Thomas, what do you want to be?” asks Janus, undoing his loops to start a new string game, having finished his character profile- a Tiefling Wizard, about ten minutes ago while Logan became his work partner and roommate (Oh my god they were roommates), a human wizard. Virgil was the DM, therefore without a character other than an ominous voice with anxiety and a god complex at the same time, and Patton and Roman were both Elves, though Patton was an Artificer and Roman was a Bard.

Logan quickly jotted down Thomas’s responding morse code, chuckled, and read it aloud. “He says, and I quote: Can I be the thing that goes bump in the night? But also offer tea and biscuits to wayward travellers.”

Virgil smiles in Thomas’s vague direction, trying to make eye contact with the static. He fails, but Thomas thinks it’s quite nice of him to try.

“You’re too nice, T. I’ll write it down for you.”

You’re too nice

He was too nice to not let them get away with it, to stop them from killing him, to stop them from--

”Oi! You fruitcake, too nice to go running to your boyfriend, huh? Get a taste of this and see whether you’re nice enough to take it.”

He was. He didn’t object to the stuff in the bottle going down his throat, burning up his organs and destroying his body from the inside.

He didn’t have enough vocal chords left to scream, even as the other boy, final year, shook him as if trying to see whether he’s wake up, even as a hole formed in his throat, bleeding and burning and burning and burning--

It’s the last thing Thomas remembers.

“Thomas? Thomas? You’re making static-y noises again. You okay?” it’s Virgil, and it’s been nearly a hundred years and they’re dead and he’s dead and there’s nothing left of anyone he remembers but memories and he pushes aside his last memory, the worst one, to try and think of Valerie, his amazing sister who got to go to his school, sit in the same chemistry room once it was converted into a public school. Terrence, his family friend who came to his gravestone specially when segregation ended, and he could finally come and visit.

Everett, his boyfriend, who kept visiting, every day at four P.M on the dot until he was twenty and left town for college. It feels better to remember them as they were, in loose clothes playing in the woods, hide and seek and dolls and Valerie-the-Nurse and Everett-The-Soldier and Thomas-The-Film-Star and finding ways to get Terrence away to play with them too, as Terrence-The-Mechanic who could fix anything, even emotional problems as their Mom’s tittered and their fathers scowled but they didn’t matter because they were having fun.

He snaps out of it proper when Virgil manages to locate his hand, semi-visible ...

Patton’s pulling at his hair, not enough to fall out but enough to hurt, Sarcastrophe by Slipknot raging through his headphones and he knows that this is bad for his hearing, but at this point if it can drown out the absolute rage pounding in his mind, then going deaf is worth it.

He doesn’t even know why he’s mad. It’s just there and he’s screaming into his sleeves, tears caking on his face for moments before the anger arrives again and there’s a new layer of saltwater on top of it, endlessly endlessly going and he can’t stop it and why can’t it just stop--

There’s someone calling. It’s Remus. And Patton has to be happy and he thinks he might just implode with the… everything building up in him, but he has to do this so he picks up the phone.

“Hi Patty-Cakes!” The nickname makes him want to puke, even though he doesn like it, but he swallows the imaginary bile in his throat and replies.

“H-Hey, Remus.”

“Patton? You alright?” No, not at all he wants to scream and kick and cry but also freeze and never move again and his head hurts and there’s a pit in his stomach that won’t go away!

“YEAH! Uh, yeah. I’m good.” he sniffles, and he hopes Remus didn’t pick up on it. Judging by the silence on the other end, he probably did.

“Pat, please, tell me what’s wrong. I won’t say anything. Just let it out. It usually works for Roman and I, but just- see for yourself, okay?” Remus sounds a little concerned, a little desperate, and Patton thinks Remus can hear him trying to stifle his crying. He tries a little harder and all that comes out is one long moan with hitches for cries and the tears are drying, and Remus starts again, concerned, but Patton can’t hear, because the tears are catching up again and he’s screaming again and his fingernails have cut little red crescent moons into his cheek and it drips a little and Remus is still talking, soothingly and Patton latches onto that voice like it’s the only thing that could possibly carry him through this because it damn well feels like it.

He hears footsteps but not really, too focused on trying to regain control of his breathing, following Remus’s count.

When it's been a few minutes of following the count, and Patton’s breathing has evened out, he wipes off his face in his old faithful broom skirt, always ready for days like these, and he buries himself a little further into his hoodie, covering with it the phone on his ear.

“Patty--”

“No, not that, please.”

“Patton, Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes, actually, but he doesn’t really see the point, since nothing lasts for him. He’s a fucked up foster kid ™ style. Good things don’t happen to him. (Maybe to Janus. Janus deserves good things, good people, better than him--)

“Why wouldn’t this last? And you’re a foster kid?” fuck, he said that aloud? Well, rest in fucking pieces, brain to mouth filter.

“Yeah, f-foster kid here.”

“Janus too?”

“Yeah.” he whispers, throat too tired for anything else. He’s not ready for the universal ‘how’ question, but he’s not been prepared for any of this so far, so maybe he should just not bother.

“Okay. Do your foster parents show any signs of wanting to let you go?” no, not really. In fact, he’d seen Remy and Emile trying to quickly hide a sheaf of papers any time Patton or Janus entered a room, and Patton’s been pushing down the hope as much as possible, even as he sees Janus start to believe it eventually. Patton has to be ready for something to go wrong, he can’t afford to let down his guard, lest he can’t protect Janus anymore. He has to make sure nothing can faze him.

But he wants. He wants so, so badly that sometimes he lies in bed for hours, pushing down the want and trying his best not to cry, until it’s morning and he’s waking Janus up even though he could barely push himself out of bed. He says this to Remus, because he still wants. He wants to stay near Remus forever, recite oddly dark facts and binge-watch the Sharknado movies again while Logan and Janus screech in betrayal and huddle up close and he wants to have this. He wants this so badly.

“Pat, I didn’t know how to say it, but I want to be with you forever too. You like my weird facts, and you stay by me when I’m mad and I want to be there when you’re sad, Patton. I want this too.”

“R-really?”

“Of course, Patton. I don’t lie. Especially not to you.” Patton laughs, somewhat wetly, and Remus’s tone brightens when he hears it, and Patton can feel the smile on the other side of the line, manic-looking but inherently full of kindness, and everything feels a little more okay.

The hurt isn’t gone, but at least he isn’t forcing it down into his large intestine anymore.

“Thanks, Re. I-I’ll talk to Emile and Remy when they come home, okay? I’ll tell you what happened. See you in school tomorrow?”

“Course, Patton. Now I’m gonna go get something for Roman to eat before his stomach acids digest his entire body, eyes and all.”

Patton laughs. “Okay! Just don’t miss your therapy appointment, okay?”

“Never do. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The call finally cuts off, and the timer reads 37:19:73, and he probably spent a good chunk of that time having a breakdown, but strangely enough, Patton doesn’t feel super bad about it. The want is there, and he’s still not super sure about what to do with it, but he knows that he wants it to be real, and even if something does go wrong, he’ll still have Remus’s number.

The door swings open as Janus enters the house, and creaks closed downstairs, and Patton flops onto his bed, eyes still a little red, putting his phone on charge to take a nap. He’ll have emotionally charged conversation, but after this nap, thanks.

[gilbirda]

Eternal. Chapter 3

Elizabeth was a very old vampire, used to changes and tragedies, used to adapt to the evolving world. When one night she searches for a distraction she finds someone as lost as she is, a human man that sparks an interest in her. But will that be enough? Would she risk involving him in her ageless world?

Go to First || << Previous chapter  || Next chapter >>

Chapter 3: Don’t make lemonade

Elizabeth rushed through the streets at full speed, barely realising that she had left her coat in the human’s house, not caring anymore about appearances and looking human anymore. Her mind was full with thoughts about the mistake she had just made, her heart beating a mile per hour in her chest, thinking that she shouldn’t have let her emotions guide her actions.

“Fuck,” she cursed while slowing down. She was really hungry now and nothing was helping her in containing her inner beast. Slowly, her mind focused on the hunger and only the hunger, the urge to sink her fangs on anything with blood on their veins, and she felt her body revert back to the state all vampires go under high pressure, guided by their lowest and more basic instincts.

Her nose caught a delicious scent in the air. Human. Right now she didn’t care about seductions or looking human or even talking. She wanted blood and wanted it now. And this poor human was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“What the-!” she heard the scream of the cold homeless person sitting by a burning trash can, probably trying to sleep at this late hour, in a filthy lonely dark alley where even in the bright daylight no one would dare to look inside.

A part of her mind wondered what she looked like to the man. A demon, maybe? Her reflection on his wide eyes as she grabbed his cold arm only gave her information she already knew, bright red eyes and very visible fangs poking out of her lips. Was the man religious? Was he able to understand what was happening as his blood calmed her primal state? Did he have someone who missed him at all?

She breathed some of the cold air when she dropped the now empty body at her feet. Her consciousness slowly came back like turning up the volume on a radio, and Elizabeth realized that she had killed the man.

She sighed. The world already had so much death and killing people was simply not her style; but it was her fault by not feeding properly and the vampire felt guilty for it.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured at the empty alley. No one answered.

***

“You did what!?”

“Let him leave without erasing his memories,” Elizabeth sighed for the tenth time, her voice muffled by the palm of the hand she was leaning on. She tried to look away from the eyes of her friend seated on the other chair of her kitchen table, afraid to face her wrath.

“Yeah yeah, I heard that the first damn time. Oh damn, Elizabeth, you really fucked it up bad now,” the other vampire in front of her puffed some smoke from her mouth, telling her that Lucy was really angry.

“I didn’t know what to do, ok? He said something unnerving and I… snapped. I didn’t want to erase his memories, Lucibelle, and it seemed like the best course of action.”

“‘Best course of action’ my ass, Eli.” The tiny vampire groaned and leaned back on her seat, careful not to touch the very flammable delicate wood of the ancient chair, “And don’t call me Lucibelle.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t worry. You are one of the few that know it anyways,” the vampire sighed. “There are less and less ancients on the active lately.”

“I heard about that,” Elizabeth was grateful by the change of topic. “I wonder what is happening for them to go out of reach.”

“Dunno. At least Jonathan keeps his phone on this time. But the others, not a beep.”

A comfortable silence established between the two friends, each one on their own thoughts. The older vampire’s red eyes coursed through the spitfire in front of her, grateful to be able to call her a friend. Lucy, as she liked to be called now, has been living with her for a few years now and was there with the whole ordeal of Suzie.

The vampire looked no older than a kid, around fifteen, but in her own time she was considered almost an adult, already promised to an abusive much older man, sold by her own family for money. She had told Elizabeth that she didn’t resent them, as she could see now the logical decision in that exchange; but still, when she found out many years after the incident that they died in the Great Fire of London, she just smirked at the irony of the situation.

Their friendship was a strange one, their personalities so different and coming from very different worlds, but somehow they connected through dark humor and valued the opinion of the other’s. Lucy’s snarky comments had saved her from more than one dangerous and probably fatal situation, and her advice during the worst break up of her life helped her go on.

Something she respected about Lucy was her ability to adapt to the changing world. She was even jealous of it. Being forever a teenager wasn’t easy, and she knew of really nasty experiences her friend had decided to share, but the golden eyed vampire surpassed every hardship and got out of them stronger and more powerful. She wasn’t known as the ‘Fire demon’ for anything, after all, and it wasn’t only because of her one-of-a-kind fire powers.

“What do you think he might be feeling right now?” said vampire asked, bringing her out of her musings.

“Probably angry. And betrayed. And kind of spooked.”

“Well, yeah, no one disappears like that. No one human, at least” she gave her a disappointed look.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” Elizabeth put her hands in the air in defeat, looking back at the golden intensity of her friend’s eyes. “I’ll fix that.”

“You’d better.”

***

A whole week had passed and Elizabeth was burning with regrets. Being inside everyday didn’t help at all, reading wasn’t working for her right now, and when she tried to play any game of any kind, her attention dispersed to her very brief encounter with the strange human. His words when he talked about his obsession with vampires still burned in her brain like coals, consuming her until the need to know more about what he thought about her kind grew almost as big as hunger.

It was a cruel flaw of hers, that insatiable curiosity. She always wanted to know more, to know why, how, when of everything; and while it helped her find some valuable people on her life (she tried not to think about Suzie, as it was her damn curiosity what attracted her to the human at that time), it had led her to almost get killed a few times.

So that’s why she found herself once more on the queue of “Midnight Blood” with her corset and gothic-like makeup, trying to choke down the blood she just had from a random hooker on the street on her way to the club. She had just the bare minimum and the woman was okay after she wiped her memories, only a little winded. Nonetheless, she bought her dinner.

“Your ID, lady” said the big man watching the door, his hand open and waiting for her. The vampire blinked and handed him the card, barely listening to the angry whispers behind her. It seemed that she was slowing the line. “Go.”

She thanked him in a low whisper and got in the club, her ears already hurting from the loud music playing in the enormous speakers by the stage. Tonight, a group was playing some kind of grunge-ish rock, big mohawks and shiny outfits accompanied with white makeup and thick eyeliner. The lady that was singing was really into the song, eyes closed, murmuring the words of the lyrics to the microphone and making gestures with the hands as if trying to touch something that wasn’t there. It wasn’t her style at all, but she could see the sentiment in the woman’s face as she sang about a lost love and despair. She respected that.

The vampire shook her head and focused on finding one human in the sea of human flesh dancing and moving at the rhythm of the music. She looked at the veranda on the second floor, maybe hoping that he was there waiting for her. It was silly, but she really wanted to make an impression on him like William did on her. Maybe he wasn’t as curious as she was? Maybe he was really angry and didn’t want anything to do with her?

Oh my God, she thought, panicking. She thought she saw him for a moment, her sharp eyes catching a glimpse of dark blonde hair in the distance. What am I going to say?

A second look confirmed that it was him indeed, and to the utmost horror of the vampire, he was looking back at her and seemed really angry. She gulped.

Slowly, mostly because of the mass of humans bouncing around in the dance floor that didn't let her pass easily, Elizabeth walked to the glaring human leaning on the wall, arms crossed. He looked disappointed, almost like he already knew what she wanted to say and was sad about it. She wondered what kind of betrayal had happened in his life to be like this.

“You,” he said when she managed to reach him, “have some explaining to do.”

[theirfirstexperiment]

His grin widened when Lucifer closed the gap between them. His body was radiating heat like a space heater. Damn, he was mildly pissed at just how easily Lucifer could work him up.

"Try it, n' see how that works out for you." He threatened, pressing himself off of the doorframe to narrow the minute gap between them even further.

"You better hope whatever yer usin' isn't flammable."

He slumped back against the doorframe when Lucifer stepped away, the warmth radiating from his body dying down slowly. He watched Lucifer step back into his room with irritated disappointment eating at his features.

This fucker is just trying to rile me up.

His attention averting to the hallway while he mulled over what exactly he needed for a trip, and whether or not he could get away with cremating some of Lucifer's inevitably owned bondage gear.

He pushed off of the door and slunk to the bathroom. Taking the opportunity to shrug off his hoodie and turn on the sink to wash his face.

Despite his grunge appearance and less than hygienic looking apartment, he hated feeling dirty.

He didn't exactly plan on a multiple day trip when he had left his apartment earlier in the evening. He mulled over the idea of getting back to the basement to grab a couple of things. Underwear, hair gel, weed.

Only he didn't exactly know where the hell they were in the city. He hadn't been paying much attention during the drive, and the gentle buzz the weed had given him was beginning to dissipate, leaving him with the promising whispers of a headache.

Sighing, he looked up into the mirror and mulled over his options.

Just get weed.

He rooted in his back pocket for the rather charred looking burner phone. Miraculously still working-despite the charred casing. He flicked on the screen and scrolled to the number for his dealer.

Pursing his lips, he stepped out of the bathroom and slipped his head through the doorway of the room Lucifer had headed into seconds before.

"What's yer addre-" he shut up when the gentle notes rolled over the piano keys. Watching with silent intent, his ears pricked up to the melody of Ave Maria.

He stood by the door with invested interest, watching how Lucifer's arms moved by his sides to reach for the keys. Hearing the sweet melody in person rather than over grating speakers made the sound so much richer. He found himself getting lost in the performance.

Red eyes followed Lucifer as he swayed back and forth between the cupboard and his luggage. Damn, did the guy really have to put that much effort into deciding what colour suit to wear? All the suits looked the same to him. Dhon began to smile, finding humour in the unnecessary indecisiveness of the musician.

He occupied his thoughts with thinking about their earlier interaction with Rosemary at the Underground. A scar on her shoulder… Yes, he had seen it. He made a mental note to keep the glock close around Lucifer. If the fucker was deranged enough to shoot his sister, arguably the most powerful person in Gotham, then Dhon doubted he would have any qualms about trying to shoot him.

His thoughts were only reaffirmed when Lucifer pulled more an more weapons out from under his bed. Hell, this guy was packing firepower. How did he expect to get all this on a plane?

Private jet? Shit, yeah. They probably have one of those.

His attention jumped out of his head and back into the apartment when the book was waved in his vision. Reluctantly, he reached out and took it. Giving the cover a glance over.

His head flicked up from the book when Lucifer loomed over him. Fucking hell he was beginning to despise how ridiculous their height difference put between them. Leaning back against the frame, Dhon scoffed and tucked the book into one of the pockets on his hoodie. The bound paper just about fit.

“Would you like that, Músico?” Gaze flitted back up to meet Lucifer’s, a foot pressed back against the doorframe and his head resting back against the wood.

“Your suit may not make it out, either.”,

Tilting his head, eyes hovered over Dhon’s lips, trying to make a decision. “Perhaps. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen a man burn the clothes off of himself. That is of course, without me tying him to a chair and dousing him in gasoline first.” Chuckling a bit, Lu took half a step forward, leaving only a few inches between their chests. 

“Though I don’t know why I’m omitting you from that narrative. You keep acting up I just might have to tie you down.” A low laugh rolled through him as he pointed his chin towards the door. “Get yourself ready. If there’s anything else we need before heading down there for a few days, you let me know so we can figure that out now before I call the cab to the plane.” Pushing off the wall and back to his room, Lucifer turned his wrist over and checked the time. Once he was sure Dhon’s back was to him, he grabbed the last of the essentials.

Opening his dresser drawer, he pulled out a ball gag, condoms, and some lube. It was quickly tossed in his suitcase and then zipped up, all while internally trying to reaffirm the reason he took them to begin with. Just in case. You never know. I mean.. Unless I’m reading this wrong, it never hurts to be prepared. 

Bringing his suitcase out to the living room, he slid the phone out of his pocket and started a call while going back and forth, bringing the rest of the guns and the like. “Hi yes, I need a limo to the airport. Nine thirty flight, yes. Right. Two. Okay. Okay fantastic, thank you.” Hanging up, “Fuck,” he groaned. “They’re not going to be here for a little while.”

Shaking his head, Lucifer set down the hall again, this time making a left instead of a right. “Make yourself comfortable,” he announced, “If you have any requests, or last minute necessities that we need to take care of, now is the time to do it.” Opening the door, he pushed into his music room, heading straight for the piano. Lifting the cover, he stretched his fingers and set them on the keys, starting to play. 

[pixi3witch]

Tag game!

I was tagged by @sjadin (thankyouuuu :D) 

Rules: answer the questions in a new post and tag 20 blogs you’d like to get to know better.

Nicknames: L, lolly or lou :) 

Starsign: Scorpio 

Height: 5′8″

Last thing I googled: “eco tap head” (god only knows) 

Fave music artist: too many to name just one; Paramore, MCR, Breaking Benjamin, State Champs, Neck Deep 

Song stuck in my head: Flammable - Biffy Clyro 

Last movie I watched: Pitch Perfect 2 

Last tv show I watched: RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 8 

When did you create your blog: last year i think? I have had so many tumblrs I keep deleting haha!

What kind of stuff do I post: studyblr, drag race, grunge things, twin peaks, a series of unfortunate events, beautiful people etc 

Do I have any other blogs: nope

Do I get asks regularly: i wish 

Why did I choose my url: no idea tbh, i like to think of myself as a pixie witch

Gender: female

Hogwarts House: is it a sin to say i have never been sorted into one?

Pokemon team: i’m an old school pokemon player I never got into pokemonGo

Favourite Colour: black, purple and burgundy 

Average hours of sleep: sleep is my favourite hobby - i’d like 9 hours 

lucky number: 7, 29 

Favorite characters: Lisbeth Salander, Violet Baudelaire, Audrey Horne (girl power duh) 

How many blankets do I sleep with: two 

Dream job: Head of an FGM taskforce for the United Nations #bigdreams

Following: 399 :O 

People I tag (sorry if you have already done this!) : @katyaamattel @vegan-brad @jefferycubed @emilywantsyou @flux-theory (go on ben, procrastinate your dissertation and do this its fun) @robcryptx @poweredbycreativityandcake @alltreeallshade @veryhappyvegan @adrians @victorgo @somaticallyincorrect

xxx <3

Also tagging everyone else who wants to do this!!  Feel free to message me and start a conversation i’m lovely and only bite if you want me too ;)

[mundaneapocalypse]

Aside from concentrating on raising food, we were delayed by having to work and Mark going to school. He knows more about construction than I do, but we need several hours of interrupted time to work on the cabin. We can’t start and stop randomly or work without each other. It is too confusing, and we can’t leave most of the stuff lying out around kids.

The weather was another delay. If Mark had to remove a window or door to work, it could not be in the winter, and preferably not in the summer. It can be hard to keep the kids cool enough in the summer, but it is easier than keeping them warm. Winter was probably the best time to work on the cabin because of the growing seasons.

We needed to save up money, since adding the loft because friends needed to live with us was expensive.

We unexpectedly adopted Lad and Lassie. I needed to help Mom because of her cancer.

Also, we wanted to figure out what exactly we needed and where, and we needed to learn the code.

But it was getting frustrating, and it was not the safest environment we could give our kids. The food we were growing barely made a difference in the Shelter and we could not care for our household because we were busy with that. It was ridiculous. I’m surprised Mark and I haven’t been investigated by Child Protective Services.

We have not even been able to unpack.

Mark does the invisible designing, like what should go in the walls, and asks if I think anything sounds like a bad idea (I generally don’t know) and we pick out the visible parts together. We want to use the most durable, high-quality materials we can and it is expensive, and difficult to decide.

Being weirdos, we decided to buy dried logs and make the lumber. It is actually really fun and relaxing and a nice change from chopping firewood. Mark decides when we should make the lumber and when we should buy it, how thick we should cut it, and everything else.

Both of us can hew the wood, but Mark is much faster at it than I am, although I have more time than he does. We have not installed the paneling yet because we want to mix up our early attempts with our later attempts. It is hard work, but for me, the hardest part is striking the same place multiple times. Even I can make the lumber—it is not rocket science. We might not do it as well as, say, a Viking ship builder, but it works. If Marmalade had enough coordination to be trusted with an axe and had enough oomph behind it, she could do it.

We decided to install the electricity and plumbing ourselves as much as we could (we will hire professionals when all hope has been lost), and sometimes we can’t buy what we want to use because nobody lives in a log cabin with no electricity or plumbing anymore.

Living in a log cabin, we have to watch out for fire risks, but if we build it right, we will not have to worry about it. Anyway, not every wood burns at the same rate, not every metal melts the same way, and heat will break glass, even Pyrex. The Pentagon is basically a bunker and look at what happened to it. We will use the noggin drills God gave us, our critical thinking skills we have been developing since we were born, common sense, the building code, and history.

We don’t mind buildings made from stone and metal, which are very fire resistant, but we didn’t want to live in one. So we use flammable materials and try to design them so they and the fireplace and candles get along. It is really fun to figure things like that out, although if we do it wrong, we will be living in a hospital or in heaven. It is great motivation.

Some materials are classified by how quickly flames spread (the flame spread rating). Materials are rated class I, II, and III, and class I includes things like brick and concrete where you have to throw it in a volcano to set it on fire. Class II are durable flammable materials, like real wood, and class III are things like plywood.

We want to use the most durable materials possible and probably the only class III materials would be in things we already own. Quite a bit of our cabin will be wood and Mark prefers real wood to plywood, and other things like that. Our material preferences could be equivalent to people who prefer unrefined food. Sometimes we still use processed materials, such as brick or concrete, and typically if it will protect the cabin from the elements or homestead and kid grunge. In particular, Mark sometimes prefers pressure-treated wood over natural wood, but it is a little funny to watch him debate because he sits down in front of our woods and stares at them with his chin on a sheathed axe, and then he goes to Lowe’s and stares at the wood. In both places, you might hear him muttering in Latvian. He knows more about the materials than I do and I generally go with what he says works.

Mark built the cabin out of mixed conifers and some other wood. We wanted conifers because they tend to repel insects and be rot resistant. We weatherproofed the logs and when we ran out of logs, we bought logs that were treated and naturally durable. The logs from our land have finished drying and you can see where they were because the gaps are larger, but we like it like that. We spend a little longer chinking it.

For the big, noticeable things like cabinets and floors, don’t want to use too many different materials, or the cabin might look too busy.

We asked our bosses if we could use our vacation time to finish our house, and Mark’s boss asked what needed to be done, so Mark told him and he said, “Yeah, you need to finish your house. You have a patient wife.” Although he asked for one, he has two weeks off.

Mark is the patient one, and he is very stressed out over not finishing the cabin. Then his boss wants to come see it, which is a little intimidating. His boss liked that he was building his own cabin and it influenced hiring him.

We are lucky to have this much of a house, but I want a real house. I asked for time off from the restaurant, since I work part-time most days of the week at two jobs and all day Saturday at the restaurant. I have seven days off. I did not want to ask for days off at my other job because I was gone for a long time when Lad and Lassie were born.

One of my aunts will babysit Marmalade, Lad, and Lassie for two weeks and bring them by during relatively child-safe times. Most kids like watching construction work and it so so cool to see your own house being built.