#i said bye to realism ages ago

[snow-body]

foxxy wip for a comisch

[reversecreek]

struts onto the dash carrying this deliriously wriggling little elf in my arms like a swaddled bebe......... they’re genuinely my oldest muse of all time i think i created them when i was like. 13 possibly. n i haven’t written them in Years but. i’m literally so excited to jst vibrating w muse. smiles at u all demurely..... they have risen. u can find their pinterest here n their playlist here.

* alana champion, nonbinary + they/them | you know nyla palmer, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, eight months? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to 6669 (i don’t know if you know) by neon indian like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole a two headed doll of a prairie girl with stitched on rabbit ears and butterfly wings, befriending shadow puppets & finding god with your eyes open underwater in a public pool you broke into thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is march 2nd, so they’re a pisces, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt she/her  )

HISTORY:

was born in georgiaaaa georgiaaaa (phoebe bridgers voice holds my bang...) to a vry honest hard working man named george (omgggg he’s called GEORGE and he’s from GEORGIA? ahaaaaa fuckk ur jestinggg) nd a woman who did her best named pamela..... george worked on a construction site n pamela was a pharmacist..... their house was this small rickety white thing with a wrap around porch n a very rabid overgrown garden tht kind of looked like the earth ws trying to reclaim it bc nobody ever hd the time or motivation to mow the lawn.... there ws literally a piece of fold out furniture just entirely submerged by weeds n foliage

nyla ws always closest w their dad george..... he hd this way of looking at the world tht was seeing the best in all of it.... he took them on long walks where he talked abt how u have to respect the trees bc they’re breathing fr us n we’re breathing fr them..... he hd a strange whimsical sense of humour n a gnome alter ego called grundlebolt who always tickled them..... in a way this closeness created a distance between nyla n their mother but not so much that it ws rly a problem. just enough tht nyla sometimes waited until their mother ws out of eye n ear shot to tell their dad they loved him bc they didn’t wna make her sad >_>

(mental health, death & grief tw) pamela always struggled w her mental health but george ws great n understanding n knew how to help her thru this... nyla didn’t get it too greatly at a very young age bt they knew their mum got “the sads” sometimes (how their dad wld explain tht she needed to lay down in the quiet for a while or why she’d stood at the stove n let the dinner burn until the smoke detector went off without doing anything abt it). when nyla was 14 they got home one day to a police car in the driveway n came prancing in exuberantly as they always did. immediately hugged the legs of an officer bc this is hw they wld greet everyone they ever met. they only realised something was wrong when they let go n saw their mum sat at the table crying. essentially there ws an accident at the construction site george worked at n :/ yeah. 

(jst mental health & grief tw now) this rly had an intense ripple effect on everyone tbh. pamela’s mental health deteriorated quite a lot without george there as her rock n nyla sort of had to step in as best they cld but it was....... hard. some days she ws better bt some days nyla had to sit her in the bath n stroke a wet sponge over her back bc they didn’t know how else to calm her down. nyla always had a very overactive imagination which george encouraged bt it ws like. losing him rly opened a window in nyla’s head n all rationality went floating out of it. their dreams seemed more real than being awake. fantasy wasn’t jst the way they coped bt it was the way they thought n the way they saw. everything on earth was alive. the trees n the clouds n the wall with a brick missing at the bottom of her road n especially their dad. their dad was alive in everything in nyla’s head. the sun shining extra bright in the morning was george. ponds were a veil they could dunk her head under and find george waiting on the other side. reality rly just pulled the plug n said bye tbh n they were ok w that <3

(abuse implied tw) their mum remarried too fast to a man named stephen n it was jst not a good arrangement. he was Not a nice man. i won’t go into this but home wasn’t a nice place for nyla any more n after a couple of yrs stephen wound up asking them to leave n their mum said nothing to contradict tht. there’s more to this bt long story short nyla left <3

(drugs tw) they couch surfed fr a while before settling living w their best friend. they got up to like... all sorts of trouble n grew up far too fast. nyla’s lack of sense n realism hd a habit of getting them into some sticky situations n these few yrs were a rollercoaster where they got by on the skin of their teeth. when they think of high skl they think of gravel and skinned knees and sucking sherbet dunkers to ignore the taste of pennies in ur mouth and getting lost in the woods a lot bc they’d take FAR too many drugs n be lead astray having conversations with kind trees whose branches held their hands

(drug mention) got by on odd jobs like making candles n selling them at market stalls. leaf blowing at cemeteries. face painting fr children’s parties (where they were blatantly high). random stuff. all over the place. in this time them n their best friend also hd a sugar daddy named tony who always wore very impressive colour block suits n mink stoles n jewelled fedoras n hd a swanky apartment w marble floors. rly just. surreal. lots of strange stories frm this time.

things kind of blew up in their friendship group n they fell out w their best friend raya bc she slept w this guy aj who nyla hd been madly in love w for yrs.... he was a Stinker n honestly so ws their best friend so good riddance i say bt obviously it felt like having their entire world flipped upside dwn fr nyla.... they split after this came out bc they just did Not want to b around these ppl any more n they decided to leave w this guy frm a band they barely knew tht much save fr a one night stand to tour w them..... this ws another whirlwind. jst chock full of them. it ws similar to being on a teacup ride at a carnival n spinning round n round n only knowing u were surrounded by lots of lights. tht’s how they’d best describe their time on tour.

SO in terms of them coming to irving 8 months ago they came w the band.... they honestly did pretty well on tour n wound up renting a big beach house on dorado as a kind of “retreat” sort of place fr them to shack up in while they worked on writing and recording their first big studio album (they gt signed w a label so it’s all vry exciting stuff). nyla among like 3 others were allowed to stay w them too bc they hd a lot of fun on tour. literally jst. taken on as professional groupies essentially. nyla loved it bc they’d never seen the ocean n when they first got there they jst threw off all their clothes n ran straight into the water. it was 3pm on a tuesday afternoon. they got arrested fr public indecency n didn’t get why bc they were like but i just wanted to hug the ocean u silly little oinker? i picture the beach house as like. the loudest one on dorado.... comes alive like a jungle at night..... they r probably bad neighbours. anyway. onto personality puts hand on hip.

PERSONALITY:

sets out patio furniture on someone else’s lawn n jst takes a seat n leans back like ahhhhh vat a nice day to be alive ya! (swedish accent suddenly bc they think it’s fun). they come out n start yelling n they’re jst so confused they’re like hey wat’s the big idea hey wat’s go on here why u angies why this happen?

likes drawing imaginary veins over their arms in all different colour blue pens in a sudden fit of hyperfixation n then forgets all abt it n goes out like tht n scares several townsfolk bt they’re oblivious they’re jst in her own world loving life already onto the next fixation. has many many different fads like this. one day will jst start snipping up a bunch of magazines bc they’re like EYES ARE COOL N THEY SEE EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :P n they’ll stick a bunch of them over their wall n then forget they was doing that n leap onto the next. quite a pattern. bt they love the vein thing a lot it makes them feel like a walking planetarium like they have their own constellations

sometimes jst doesn’t make sense. they’re honestly kind of strange. pops up in places like they suddenly materialised there n it’s like how did u get there where have u been when were u last seen are u ok. has the energy of an ancient deity frm deep in a mountain cave n an ambiguous forest sprite all at once..... talks shit honestly. abt anything n everything. sometimes outrageous. sometimes plain incoherent. like what are u talking about? i dnt kno. even i dnt kno sometimes.

luvs stick n pokes will let anyone tattoo whatever they want on them for the price of a gummy bear kindly placed onto their tongue n swallowed whole

has this obsession w being underwater w their eyes open luvs it. calls it their tadpole time. runs baths just to lie there blinking looking around n drifting her arms. best friends w the bottom of any local swimming pool n hs probably given it a quick kiss so it knows they’re bff’s n then got sick bc there’s sm germs in a public pool. says the kgb probably poisoned their oatmeal n r finally here to deliver on their promise n THAT’S why they got sick unrelated to the pool incident. what promise? noone knows.

unclear if they believe what they say or if they jst has a very expanded sense of humour where they nvr let on if they’re joking.... lines r blurred a lot..... 

loves excitedly shouting things. sometimes just screams at the sky bc they say it’s good to let the creatures in ur belly fly out every once in a while otherwise their wings get sore.

(drugs tw) still does an excessive amt of hallucinogens n it kind of shows. very bad fr their brain bt we’re going to ignore it.

dresses fun n strange n eccentric n careless. loves to experiment. does nt care abt what’s considered to be societally appropriate. living in their own world.

sleeps around a lot... jst doesn’t rly see sex as a big deal.... very free w themselves in that way..... sometimes greets their friends w a kiss on the lips they’re like awww :) kisses <3 when they run into them in the middle of the cereal aisle n then pulls away n suddenly breaks into a box tht has a free toy in it bc it’s a banana with googly eyes n that’s the best thing they’ve ever heard in their LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! n isn’t he so HANDSOME????? enchante indeed my good sir ;)... gives the toy a kiss too.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

other groupies of the band: self explanatory a little.... i dnt have a name for the band yet bt all can b worked out..... i picture them as kind of. not that nice but like. there for a good time........ rock genre.... bit chaotic...... to say the least........ they dnt have to have come there w the band like nyla n the others they cld have been adopted in their time there.... whoever wld b wild n down fr a good time <3

chaotic trash goblin friends: idk what this title rly means it just came to me in a vision....... jst ppl tht r rly kind of off the rails n don’t care abt anything...... they r who nyla tends to mesh very well w......... they rly r living in their own world n by their own rules n they like ppl who do this too <3 inevitably they get up to no good n party far too much...... cld be angst to this if they enable each other’s bad habits...... world’s our oyster. opens my office door. let’s talk abt it.

nyla set up camp on their front lawn: maybe jst w a fold out chair. maybe w a literal pop up tent w someone else too. genuinely so bizarre of them bt that’s what we’re dealing with. they poke their head into the tent n nyla’s lying down crunching on a cracker crumbs over their tits n they just hold it out to them nt even fully consumed n are like hey polly want a cracker? :)

they responded to her craigslist ad: they posted one saying they cld cleanse their house of demonic energy bc they’re an all seeing eye in touch w the spirits. this is a lie. they came n waved sage around n did a little dance as they did it w bird sounds playing on a special cd they brought fr the occasion (had weird indistinct doodles over the case it ws brought in) n then ws like OOH! scary.... n jumped at something in the hall. they go in thinking maybe they’ve seen a ghost bt they just were startled by their own reflection in a mirror n is like. scary mirror placement...... might wna reconsider that........ they charge them merely 10 dollars fr their time n is like this was so fun we shd do it again some time :) also i think u have mould on ur bathroom tile! vanishes. they dnt recall them ever going to the bathroom.

came knocking asking for items for a garage sale: yes. u heard that right. they’re asking for ur muses things to set up their own garage sale. selling items that do not belong to them. they think this is a genius business strategy n don’t understand why ppl think this is so strange or why they cant just ask ppl to donate them things to sell bc hey they’re an entrepreneur? they even had a pencil behind their ear when they knocked on the door so why aren’t ppl taking their business seriously? probably got distracted several times trying to explain their pitch n chattered abt random other things instead.

honestly anything... fwbs... flings... good influence... someone who cnt stand the fact they’re barely coherent.... someone they stopped on the street one day n asked for their opinion on water beds.... we cn do literally anything. fling ur chara my way n we can talk.

[sworee]

My Writing

So I’ve decided/ been convinced that I should start posting writing on this here blog so... here goes.

NaNoWriMo ends real soon as anyone who participates in it knows and this was my “oh hey I know I should work on my other projects since NaNo is almost over but nope” idea that I came up with like a week ago but I love it so I want to share it and hopefully get famous muahahaha...

Without further adieu:

Premise: In Victorian London, a small religious sect has formed. They believe that humans reincarnate as the last thing they kill. This small sect preaches that humans are superior creatures and that they are the ideal vessel for the next life. In order to achieve that a group formed to help elderly or sickly members commit homicide (and get away with it). This group is called the Crane Society (in Asia, the crane symbolizes long life, and is often associated with resurrection, rejuvenation, and healing), and they are comprised of several quirky, murderous, dysfunctional members. An anti-heroic young “squire” with a dangerous past infiltrates their ranks in order to put a stop to these mysterious murders but ends up falling in love with just being able to kill again.

Here’s the first 1000-ish words (actually 1034 but it’s chill):

A call had gone out to all killers. Your services are wanted, no needed. Next lives are on the line you know, and we, His followers, pray for your valuable assistance in this matter. We don’t want killers with signature moves that keep detectives aware of their handiwork. We don’t need reputation or notoriety. We don’t want high-profile assassins. Keep away flamboyant mob bosses and glory seeking clowns. We need killers who can keep the mark restrained while gentle bloodied hands guide the shaking knife blade of a senior citizen into their palpitating heart. We want the young and willing, the thrill seeking, or charitable. The ones who will keep quiet, and loyal, and not run off after the first few jobs. A call was sent out all across Hades in hopes of dragging up something useful.

This had better be where he came in, or Grey would be more than a bit upset. Tilda sauntered alongside him. A funny thing about the cats he knew (especially Tilda), was that when they were alone, or with no one but others of their kind, they tended to slink about in London’s ink-spill shadows, each step a full extension of all of their limbs, tail and head included. Yet with him they sauntered. Doing a little jog along the pavement where each bounce jostled a mew out of of them. Not a loud, announcing mew, nor a communicative one, but a half-assed pathetic thing that died halfway up their throats. He supposed it was more to remind him that they were there and hungry and he should no soon forget it than sleep with that old pig of a countess, Mary.

Another thing about cats (especially Tilda), was that even while walking, they managed to find a way to shred the cuffs of his trousers. Those little knives that they keep in their mittens pop out carelessly as they claw for attention and end up costing him a trip to the tailors, or worse, the more convenient yet less pleasant sewing room in the palace where rich little girls learn to poke needles into business that doesn’t belong to them.

Most men would get turned away at those forever-perfume-stained doors, but he was not most men. And he had permission due to some unofficial royal rule proclaiming that he must look presentable at all times. And those desperate ladies would never mind a visit from him. A damn shame.

Tilda wanted to stop. She probably wanted some food too. But oh no, looks like Grey forgot to pack a lunch for his murder mission. No money either. Grey would do that.

Mr. Heneson never would though, Grey thought to the rhythm of Tilda’s jumping almost-meows. Mr. Heneson was a proper man out on the respectable side of town in a simple black waistcoat made by women less concerned with remeasuring his hips and crotch again to “make sure they got it right” and more concerned with being paid up front. He was young and smooth and the master of his fate.

Boy might though. It was infinitely interesting how everyone, or at least every man in the palace only seemed to remember his name when they wanted something from him. They would go from, “Careful not to be too much underfoot boy,” to, “Grey, we need for you to rescue the kidnapped aristocracy.” As if he could refuse. He must, as they would often say, “Know his place.” Of course, Boy knew his place; it was the source of his meals and his ticket to a bed somewhere beyond bars.

Then there was Sir. Little girls flitted about him, twittering nonsense whilst batting their eyes and shifting up their skirts. “Hello good sir.” “Can I help you sir?” And another inch of stockinged calf was revealed.

Sometimes, he observed them in dress only. An expensive trendy frock with hair in meticulously set rings held captive by berry colored ribbons, or a worn work dress nearing the end of its long life with oily strands plaited hurriedly back and woefully unadorned. No matter the status of the girl, he often heard them whispering things about him and about what they would like him to do to them. Friend to friend to friend.

At eighteen years in age, he was too tall, too slim, too charismatic to go unnoticed. With eyes that mixed in just one color too many to be considered a normal blend, and skin just pale and poreless enough to turn a portion of any light into a gleam. Not to mention he had inherited Snow White’s hair of fucking ebony. A perfect, doll-like contrast between porcelain and raven down. He was destined to be trapped in this web of feminine lust, honey and cream lathered voices, and whispers made by frocks of all classes.

A sudden yowl ripped through his traffic jammed marketplace of thoughts. In a rare show of clumsiness, Grey had missed a half-mew beat and stepped on Tilda’s calico tail. If it were any other cat, he would have cussed out that animal with words that would send them both straight to hell. But Tilda was his favorite and that did have some merits. He crouched down to pet the animal in apology and enjoy the quiet, uniquely  empty side street in all its dark glory.

Stars were a myth here; too much smog. But as he sat there he could almost see little deathly white specks poking out from between the clouds. In his imagination, they were not beautiful or poetic, as people often said. Just light. Somehow that realism brought him away from the cat’s soft coat and the double darkened sky. It brought him back to the murders and the rumors and the exhilarating red of the bloodstains in the ally-way.

“Think we’re a bit lost Tilda?” he said softly to the cat. It was not a gentle soft. Grey didn’t have the capability to speak in a gentle soft tone. It was soft because London’s cramped, twisted, half collapsing buildings were rather good conductors of sound.

“Yes lost,” he whispered, “I believe it’s time we paid a visit to the fish man, don’t you think, my dear?”

I hoped you enjoyed that, dear reader(s). And I also have no idea what to title this so if anyone has any ideas I would love a suggestion or two. ^^

Bye for now internet friends.