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yardsards · 2 years ago

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Advice on getting into soap making?

above all, i'd say if you're just curious about the hobby and aren't trying to make some big batch of beautiful professional-quality soap yet... you don't need as many fancy supplies as all the tutorials show you. the monetary aspect scares a lot of people off because all the tutorials are made by people making extremely fancy soaps in large quantities to sell

you WILL need (i do cold process so this is the materials for that)

for safety:

-some kind of eye protection (while it IS very unlikely anything will splash in your eye, you don't wanna risk being the bozo that blinded themself making soap). i like using lab style safety goggles to fulfill my fantasy of being mad scientist.

-plastic or rubber gloves, because you WILL get lye water or unmixed soap on your hands, so you gotta make sure there are gloves protecting your hands

-long sleeves, tie your hair back if it's long. like you're in high school chemistry class. long pants and closed toe shoes are also recommended. just on the off chance something splatters on ya.

-ventillation. not necessary for most of the soap process but wherever you mix your lye into your water NEEDS to be well ventillated because sometimes the lyewater will steam and make fumes. my apartment doesn't have super great ventillation so i straightup do this step on a lil table on my porch

-clean flat work surface. your kitchen table should work just fine for this purpose. if you have a cat like me, lock her dumb ass in the other room so she doesn't try to jump on the table and give you both chemical burns

necessary:

-a kitchen scale (you can get a cheap one, doesn't need to be state of the art). eyeballing measurements or measuring by volume will NOT work.

-pure lye. necessary chemical for this whole process. just buy a 1 lb jar for now, you can start buying bulk later if you get serious about this hobby. sometimes you can find this in your local hardware store next to the drain cleaner (only get the stuff that says "pure lye"! don't accidentally get something that says "drain cleaner WITH lye"). but mine's been sold out so i had to get some online

-oils. this, along with the lye, is what soap is made of. you can figure out your own recipe, but mine (which is made of stuff easily accessible at the grocery store) is 4 parts olive oil, 3 parts shortening, 2 parts coconut oil, and 1 part castor oil. use this calculator to figure out how much lye and water you'll need, or to tinker around with your own oil combinations.

-big mixing bowl. ideally not metal, sometimes metal has a chemical reaction w the lye water. glass is fine. plastic is fine (though if you use something plastic for soap, you probably won't wanna use it for food ever again because the smell of soap will get stuck in the pores of the plastic and not wash out)

-smaller container to mix lyewater in. not metal. ideally not glass (you know how glass sometimes cracks from abrupt changes in temperature? yeah.). use something made of good sturdy plastic that you would feel safe dumping boiling water into (your lyewater SHOULDN'T reach boiling temps ever but we wanna be sure). ideally something with a lid.

-plastic spoon (for scooping lye)

-rubber spatula (for scraping bowl)

optional:

-scented oils/essential oils. wherever you buy these from, make sure they are safe for skin (some oils are only safe for candles and diffusers and whatnot). you could also scent your soap with stuff like orange zest, tea, or dried frowers (though the scent will be more mild). or make unscented soap

-immersion blender. everyone SAYS this is Strictly Necessary but that's FALSE. i have used a whisk and some old fashioned elbow grease to test if it was possible and yup, worked just fine, just took longer. (exactly HOW long depends on what recipe you use and what temperature your materials are at, and how big of a batch you're making. i was just doing a 1 lb batch w the recipe listed above). but yeah, strongly recommend a cheap immersion blender unless you're super broke or looking for an arm workout.

-titanium dioxide and soap micah: these make your soap colourful. only recently bought some, have just been making plain beige-ish soap. if your local craft store sells liquid "soap dye", that stuff generally doesn't work well with cold process soap, just melt and pour

-soap molds: i don't even bother. i've used cheap tupperware, i've used a pringles can lined with wax paper. do whatever, as long as you think you can get the soap out of the container/mold.

and then if you want i could walk you through the exact steps but usually the youtube tutorials are pretty much fine (sometimes they overcomplicate it or do things without explaining WHY or if that step is purely necessary or just optional, though)

also i know all the lye precautions make it sound scary but honestly a lot of it is just being Extra Cautious. if you fuck up and get lye on yourself it won't be good but you just gotta rinse it off with cool water. you won't get, like, Immediate Deadly Chemical Burn if you get lye on your skin, just wash it off and at worst the skin will just be irritated for a day or two

#eliot posts #long post

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renaerys · 3 years ago

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Okay I've got one: Prompt 15 with Reds. 🤣🤣🤣

15. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying, I just keep thinking about how good that mouth feels.”

Somehow they can make even breathing a competition.

Send me a prompt and some characters! Reminder that the challenge is to make everything SFW, so we're getting creative here.

List of prompts

xxx

“So, we’ve called the paramedics and they’re on their way, but until they arrive it’s up to us. Remember the acronym, kids: C-A-B. What’s the first thing you do?”

Aiyeesha Simpson, a gunner in the making destined for academic greatness and social ruin, raised her eager hand. “Find a flat surface to lay him down!”

“Correct.” Blossom took Brick by the shoulders and shoved him down to the floor. A gaggle of Girl Scouts gathered around him as he wheezed for air.

“Ow,” he said.

Blossom patted his chest. “Please choke more quietly.”

I will end you, he thought so loudly he hoped she could hear him through the murder in his eyes. There was community service, and then there was cruel and unusual punishment. When his required hours were up and his record expunged, he was going to write a very negative Yelp review of the local Townsville Girls Scouts of America chapter and tank this year’s cookie sales. Supremely annoying, outrageously petty, and totally legal. That would teach Blossom for sure.

“Place your hands here between the nipples.”

Some of the Cadette Girl Scouts giggled. To be fair, Blossom of all people saying the word nipples in reference to her former mortal enemy as she trained a room full of twelve-year-old girls in CPR using him as the dummy was a perfect storm of absurd and kinky that he did not see coming. And now he was giggling himself, because he was a teenaged boy who thought the word nipples was funny regardless of the very clear contextual cues, and that pubescent shame was on him, one hundred percent.

Blossom, an ancient and inconveniently attractive evil resurrected in a lab for the sole purpose of making his life miserable, did not appreciate his amusement. “Push hard at a rate of 100 to 120 compressions per minute. Remember to put your bodyweight behind it, like this.”

Brick flexed, and Blossom pushed against his heart like she was trying to crush it in her hands. Once, twice, three times she administered compressions, and Brick’s eyes glowed red with impotent rage.

“Assist Blossom with her CPR lessons to her satisfaction, and we can forget this ever happened,” Mayor Bellum had promised Brick when he lost his temper and blew up an (empty) ambulance. Butch didn’t need his Super stomach pumped no matter how much he drank, so the ambulance and the four-figure bill that came with it were completely unnecessary. This defense did not convince the mayor, however.

The promise of the bill forgiven and his record cleared—and the deterrence of Aiyeesha Simpson filming the whole thing to upload to YouTube later—gave Brick the strength not to eye beam Blossom in front of the children.

“Okay, who wants to try chest compressions on the dummy?” Blossom offered to the girls.

You evil bitch, thought the aforementioned dummy.

After the third little girl properly placed her sticky, little girl hands between his nipples, Brick had had enough. “Hey, I’m still dying over here. Can we move on already? Jesus Christ.”

“Of course.” Blossom smiled, and she had never looked more terrifying.

Brick hoped Butch was suffering. He hoped he was hung over so bad he couldn’t piss standing up. He hoped Butch tried going online only to find that Brick had disconnected the Internet and cut him off from all his online games and porn because fuck Butch and his weak-ass stomach.

“Who knows what the next step is? Maybe someone other than Aiyeesha this time?”

None of the other girls seemed willing to stick their hands up. The carpet under Brick had scorched where his power leaked out in his building resentment for this entire situation. The smell of burned polyester just made him feel even more powerless to stop this.

“No? Okay, well, remember the acronym. A is for airway. You want to be careful about a possible neck injury, so gently lift the chin…”

Blossom’s hands were not sticky like the Girl Scouts’ hands, but they were cold where they touched his skin and forced his head back.

“Are the paramedics here yet?”

Brick got a tight fist in his short hair for that one, and he considered it a small victory. “No. Something about a shortage of ambulances, apparently.”

Biiiiiiiitch.

God, he was going to destroy her so bad.

“Once you’ve cleared the airway and confirmed there are no obstructions—”

“Then you kiss!”

Some girls picked up the giggling again. Blossom, ever the professional, cleared her throat. “Mouth to mouth is a life-saving procedure and not something I’d recommend doing to someone you plan to kiss.”

Wow, great advice.

Some girls still giggled and whispered to each other. Brick had a sinking feeling that this was only going to end with his embarrassment: everyone knew that the cold judgment of pre-pubescent girls was the absolute worst type of judgment a person could suffer.

“Are you gonna show us?”

“Well, I don’t think I need to show you all how to breathe—”

“It’s in the manual! You have to demonstrate every step.” Aiyeesha waved the CPR manual, and Brick realized his misjudgment. She was no vapid goody two-shoes in the making, but a future Honors Student with a secret, a Work Hard Party Harder, an Ivy League Early Decision candidate with all of senior spring semester to slack off because no one was ever going to touch her 4.3 GPA.

Aiyeesha beamed a winning smile at Brick, and it was as chilling as Blossom’s.

Jesus Christ, there are two of them.

True to form, Blossom had never been able to defy a good instructions manual. “I suppose if it says so in the manual…”

Locking lips with Blossom was not a big deal. He’d done it before when they were kids, and he could appreciate the irony of a gesture meant to save his life this time rather than end it. She didn’t even try to mess with him by using her ice breath, just went through the motions as described in the instructions. The girls were disappointed with the lack of hormonal fanfare of it all, which was probably for the best. Leave it to Blossom to make mouth to mouth the sexless, medical act it was literally intended to be. He was almost upset, because it felt like she’d won something here, which could only mean he’d lost.

Disappointed but more educated than they’d been when they’d arrived two hours ago, the Girl Scouts dispersed after the lesson, leaving Blossom and Brick to put away the equipment they’d used.

She held a dummy torso, and she was looking at him with that pinched, constipated look she got when she was about to say something especially snobby. Instead, she surprised him. “Brick, thanks for being mature about it. I can honestly say you surprised me.”

He stared at her.

“I’ll talk to Mayor Bellum. I’m sure you’ve done enough to meet your hours quota.”

He had not fulfilled even half of his required community service hours and they both knew it.

“So yeah, thanks. I can finish up here if you want to leave.”

Was she trying to get rid of him? Why?

“Brick? Why are you looking at me like that?”

When Blossom was winning, he was losing. That was simply the way of the world. So, if she was losing, it could only mean he was winning.

“Are you listening to me?”

Brick smiled in what he hoped was a cool, sexy way if he imagined looking at anyone but Blossom. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying. I just keep thinking about how good that mouth feels.”

Blossom stared. “I’m sorry?”

He would make her sorry.

“Yeah, you’re a great teacher. I could really feel your passion for demonstrating the lesson correctly. With your mouth.”

Her staring intensified. “Did you.”

“Oh, yeah.” He leaned his hip against the table like he’d seen in the movies. It worked for Daniel Craig in Casino Royale, and that guy had convinced Eva Green. Iconic. “I could really feel you trying to save me.”

Where was Aiyeesha with her phone to film this? There was so little he could do to rattle Blossom as they got older, and while the challenge delighted him, it was also exhausting being constantly a step behind her. Was this truly her demise? Had he won the Teenage Experience? Was this poetic justice for how she’d once killed him with a mere kiss, only to suffer the same fate in turn? He could have cackled. This was better than trolling the Girl Scouts of America reviews, although he might still do that because it was a genius idea and he had always indulged his own genius ideas when they came to him.

So infatuated was he with his own self-fellating digression that he was slow to react to Blossom sidling up to him. Her hand was still cold on his chin, and it sent a shiver down his spine. “Shall I save you again?”

Brick’s dignity drained with his blood, which was an unfortunate side-effect of being a teenaged boy that he would just have to suffer. But winning was about recognizing one’s weaknesses and working around them. He leaned into her personal space. “Please.”

He wasn’t sure who kissed who first, but it was happening and all he could think was I am better at this than you and I hate you and also Do that again. He tried holding her waist, and she fought back with her fingers in his hair. Not one to be deterred, Brick tried some tongue but pulled back when he tasted thirty degrees below zero. He immediately went back in because he could feel her superiority, her Got you, you horny idiot, but the joke was on her because he liked her cold, always had when it was hot as balls out and he’d make up any excuse to pick a fight with her just for the chance to cool off.

The Girl Scout troop leader walked in on them competitively making out in the classroom like it was an Olympic sport and put an end to things, leaving them at a frustrating draw for now. They said barely a word to each other when Brick glared at the troop leader so bad she flustered and didn’t even question them before running out of there with some excuse about getting the wrong room.

Later that evening, Brick caved and changed the Internet password back just so Butch would quit whining at him. He Googled kissing techniques and spent the next hour and a half watching YouTube videos and reading GQ articles about How to Please Her Like a Champion, because he was a champion and a winner and he was not going to lose to Blossom in this. Not a chance.

This had to be what they meant when they said kill with kindness.

“I’m going to end you,” he muttered to himself as he read about the top ten highest voted movie kissing scenes, which he would then stream and commit to memory in order to be fully armed and armored for the next time he encountered Blossom alone in a classroom. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe during their shared free period.

Truly, he had the most genius ideas.

xxx

If you enjoy my writing, check out more of my fics on AO3, link in my profile. I’m currently updating Trinity House and The Alchemy of Us. Thanks for reading!

#powerpuff girls #blossick #ppg reds #ppg brick #ppg blossom #powerpuff girls fanfic #september fic prompts #great pick Carrie!#this one was fun

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streetlight11 · 4 years ago

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Birthday Gift

Summary: If you told your younger self 4 years ago that you would be in a happy, long distance relationship with someone who lives miles away from you up till today, your younger self would have laughed at you. But here you are, 4 years later, happy and totally in love with the boy you met online after he randomly followed you on social media. But you've never once met him in person. On your 24th birthday, you were getting a birthday gift that you never thought you would receive so soon.

Theme: long distance relationship au, strangers to lovers

Genre: super fluffy

WC: 2k

Pairing: Bae Jacob x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hello! This has been in my drafts for quite a bit so here it is. This fic is too too fluffy, even for me who wrote this. Cobie is such a sweetheart, I can't-... Anyways, I hope you like this as much as I enjoy writing it! :)

Being in a long distance relationship is difficult as it needs to have a huge amount of trust, understanding, discipline and a lot of reassurance. However, despite all the fights you may have due to miscommunications and most of the time just lack of physical affection, you still cherish and love your boyfriend very much. You met your boyfriend online as he added you on social media a few years back. You clicked on his profile only to see that he lived in South Korea.

He looks to be a professional dancer and also a full time student in one of the colleges there. Not to mention, super good looking too. However, you weren’t really expecting anything at that point of time only because you don’t really believe in long distance relationships. You’ve always thought it might be hard and that it will never last.

So you just accepted his request and followed him back. The next day, you were in class when you got a DM from someone. And since you rarely got a DM from any guys, you were surprised to see his username pop up.

You clicked the message after about 10 minutes or so to see what he texted you, thinking he was just another weirdo who wants to scam you.

His message said;

“Hello! I saw your account and I really love your content. I’m sorry if this is too weird. I understand if you don’t wish to reply.”

With that, you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh as you didn’t know why but you began to type your reply, “Haha thank you! That’s so nice of you to say that.” You hit the send button and a few minutes later, he replied. That’s when you began to chat with him for quite a while before he asked.

“I’m so sorry, where have my manners gone? I’m Bae Joon Young but you can just call me Jacob. And you are?”

You replied to him with a smile as your fingers tapped against your smartphone, “I’m Y/F/N but you can call me Y/N.”

Ever since then, you have been chatting with him over DMs for quite a while, just to see if you can sort of trust and be comfortable with him or not. It took you almost 5 months to finally add him in your kakao talk.

Both of you have already done both voice and video call which means you already knew how each other looked and you seemed to have grown your trust in him. Jacob seemed like a genuine guy as you found out that he was your age internationally. Months became years and both of you have already introduced your partners to your parents.

However, at first, your parents weren’t too sure about this whole long distance relationship thing. But they didn’t want to disappoint you so instead of asking you to break up and find a local guy, they let you carry on with this relationship if you believe that it would work. Surprisingly, it took your parents less than a month to get warm with Jacob as they finally got comfortable every time he video calls you.

It has been 4 years since you two agreed to pursue this long distance relationship as it marks your 4th anniversary today. You were just lounging in your room when Jacob decided to skype call you through his desktop.

You accepted the call as he smiled adorably into the camera and waved to you, making you giggle as you waved back. “Happy anniversary baby.” Jacob said.

“Happy anniversary my love. Where are you?” You asked.

“I’m in my dorm. Younghoon’s out with our friends.”

“Why aren’t you with them?” You pout.

“I wanted to celebrate our anniversary.”

“Baby, you didn’t have to, you could have called me after.”

“Don’t you want to see me?” He asked sadly.

“Of course I do. It’s just… I feel like I might be the reason why you may not hang out with your friends as often as you do.”

“Baby, listen to me. I’m so lucky to have you as my girlfriend, dang am I lucky to have you reply to my message 4 years ago. I never thought that we could actually last this long but hey, look at us now.” You smiled as you looked down at your hands, only to look back up and see him pout.

“I love you so much, you know that right? And I can never ask for someone to replace you.” He said, making you sigh.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” You asked softly, making him chuckle.

“How I wish I could enter my computer screen and just hug you and kiss you.” He whispered, making you smile sadly, knowing that could never happen, or at least it wouldn’t happen any time soon. You continue talking to him until you fall asleep, making him chuckle softly at your figure. Looking at you through his monitor screen endearingly.

“Goodnight my sweetheart.” He said those last words softly before he ended the call.

Days slowly became weeks and it was the same routine again and again but neither of you were getting bored or tired from it. He would always reassure you that he still loves you and that he would never hurt your feelings in any possible way. It was your birthday that day and your parents had booked a restaurant for you to celebrate and have your birthday dinner with your family, like how it has always been for the past few years.

It would be you, both your parents, your elder sister and her husband along with your 5 years old niece.

You chose to wear a white floral blouse with a pair of denim jeans as you paired it with your heeled sandals. You were in the car with your parents, on your way to the restaurant when Jacob voice called you.

“Hello?” He said.

“Hi Love.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m heading to a restaurant with my family for my birthday dinner. What about you?”

“Oh wow. Where to, this time? I’m just out with the boys.”

“I honestly don’t know. They didn’t tell me.” You laughed as your mother then smiled and spoke up from the front passenger seat.

“Hello dear. How are you sweetie?”

With that, you scooted to the centre of the back seat and put your call on speaker mode. Just then, you heard Jacob respond. “Hello Ma’am, I’m doing well. I wish I could be there to celebrate with all of you.” Jacob said, making you smile sadly as your parents let out a soft chuckle.

“It’s okay son, one of these days, you’ll get to meet our daughter and us.” Your dad said as you could already hear a smile etching on Jacob’s lips.

“Yes sir. I hope so.” Your boyfriend said before you giggled as you turned the speaker mode back off before bringing your phone to your ears. “Hmm, babe I think we’re here. I’ll call you again after dinner okay?” You said into the line.

“It’s okay baby. Don’t worry. Have fun tonight. I love you.”

“I love you too…” You paused for a moment as he waited for you to continue.

“I miss you Jacob.” You couldn’t help but whisper as a tear rolled down your cheek, making him frown.

“Baby please don’t cry. Promise me you won’t cry.” He said, making you nod as you sniffled your cries.

“I’ll try.” You said as you then bid him goodbye before ending the call.

Your sister had already arrived as you and your parents went to the front entrance where a waiter was waiting. Your dad told him that they’ve already made a reservation under your dad’s name as the waiter checked his list and soon smiled at the three of you. “Right this way.” The waiter said as he soon guided you towards the back of the restaurant where there were private rooms with opaque curtains to block the view of those sitting inside.

You were walking last as you texted your boyfriend in the process.

Once you were at the booth, your dad asked you to enter first, in which you got confused but nonetheless did as you were told. However, the minute you pushed the curtains open, your eyes immediately landed on the one person sitting at the very end of the table nearest to the entrance.

You felt your whole body freeze as you couldn’t find the right words. He was there, right in front of you, in one piece. It was him. It was your boyfriend. He was really there physically. You couldn’t believe this.

“Wha- I- When… Omg… Omg…” You whispered as everyone laughed, only for Jacob to chuckle as he got up, making you feel so flustered.

“Happy Birthday my love.” He said, as he walked up to you but you were still frozen in shock.

“Surprise!” Your family said in unison happily.

You locked eyes with Jacob as he engulfed you in a hug. That’s when you began to bawl your eyes out against his shoulder as you could finally feel his arms around your body, holding you tight as though he was afraid of losing you. Jacob laughed softly as he let you cry into his shoulder, while he gently rubs soothing circles in your back to calm you down.

You had your arms wrapped around his waist securely, afraid that if you let go, he would disappear. “Shh, don’t cry baby. Don’t cry.” He whispered in your ear, only for you to cry harder. He laughed even more as your mother and sister were already tearing up at the side.

You pull away from him as he gently wipes your tears with his thumbs. “You’re here… You’re actually here…” You whispered, your breath shaky as he nodded, cupping your face softly in his hands. “Yes love. I’m here. I’m really here.” Jacob said, making you pout. Still unable to believe this was real.

Jacob smiled widely as he pulled you into a hug again, only for you to bury your face in his chest, feeling him draw lazy patterns into your waist. After nearly 30 minutes of you holding onto him and being in your own little bubble, the 7 of you finally settled down to celebrate your birthday dinner. After dinner was over, your parents offered Jacob to stay over at your family home for the next two weeks that he is staying here in your country before he flies back to Korea.

Jacob thanked your parents for letting him stay over as you couldn’t stop holding his hand. The way his hands fit in yours so perfectly as he showered you with so much love and warmth, just like how he did through all the video calls and texts.

That night when everyone had gone home, your parents knew that you probably wanted to spend time with him so they let him sleep in your room.

After both of you had already changed and were getting ready for bed, he pulled you onto his side as you rested your head on his chest. Jacob hugs you close as you tighten your grasp on his shirt. “What’s wrong?” He asked as he glanced down a little.

“I’m just so happy you’re here. I still need time to process this information.” You confessed.

Jacob chuckled softly as he whispered, “I’m really happy to be able to finally see you in person. This means so much to me.”

“Me too.”

Just then, the room fell quiet as you just looked into each other’s eyes, seeing the sparkles coating both your pupils as he gently caressed your cheek. Right at that moment, Jacob seemed to read your mind as he gently pulled you up a little. Without much words, Jacob decides to ask the one question that both of you had in mind.

“Can I kiss you?”

With that, you smiled shyly as you nodded. Jacob smiles in victory as he leans down softly to finally feel your soft lips on his and it has never felt so magical. Both of you took in this new feeling as he kissed you sweetly.

You spent the next two weeks with him, just making the most of your time. A month after he went back to Korea, it was your turn to give him a surprise visit as you managed to book a flight to Korea, asking for Jacob’s help to fetch you at the airport and bring you over to his apartment.

You stayed with Jacob for two days before surprising Jacob for his birthday party. Jacob did such a good job at taking care of you and making sure that you weren’t lost in Korea.

Despite the long distance, it definitely made you two grow stronger and gain even more trust in one another. It was a blessing in disguise that you accepted his request 4 years ago.

And you regretted none of it.

~~~

#the boyz scenarios #the boyz jacob #the boyz joonyoung #the boyz jacob scenarios #the boyz jacob imagines #tbz jacob #tbz joonyoung #tbz joonyoung scenarios #tbz joonyoung imagines #tbz fluff #tbz jacob fluff #jacob bae

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silvysartfulness · 3 years ago

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I've gotten a whole bunch of new followers since I started making The Untamed content about a year ago, and I think it may be a good time to introduce myself and this blog to the newcomers.

Hi! ♥

I'm glad you find this chaotic mess entertaining enough to want to stick around!

That said, if you don't feel comfortable with who I am and/or what I post, just unfollow at any time, no explanations needed.

I'm Silvy, I'm a Fandom Old, 40+, and have been involved in online fandom since the late 90ies.

I'm neurodivergent, Aspie/ADHD and some spare change. I hyperfocus on things, and love to analyze fictional characters and tropes, especially things to do with the messiness and complexities of human nature and emotion. At the moment, as should be obvious, I live in the The Untamed universe, especially the Yi City corner. (You don't get emotions much messier and more complex than that!)

I have always been fascinated by ”villains” - the people who don't act like others do, who are different, and who hurt people, sometimes without meaning to. (Sometimes very much meaning to.)

I love redemption arcs. I've grown to realize there's a this recent phenomenon happening online where people claim certain fictional characters don't ”deserve” them. I think that's utter bullshit, and an extremely negative and destructive mindset to have. People should always have the chance to change and do better. Everyone makes mistakes. Some worse than others. But while no one ”deserves” forgiveness, unless it's freely given, everyone should have the chance to change, move on and be better.

I have always been fascinated by fiction as a medium to explore the messiness of humanity. Of how people hurt each other and heal each other and grow either way. The mess of who people end up loving, or hating, or - bittersweetly - both at once. In my opinion, that is the very purpose of fiction – the mirror held up to explore our own humanity, without suffering any of the negative consequences of reality. Yes, that includes the really problematic stuff. Yes, all the problematic stuff. Fiction is not reality.

I have 100% understanding for people who don't want to watch or read certain things – don't self-harm by engaging with content and creators that makes you angry and upset! I also have 0% patience with people demanding others conform to their particular standards of purity. It's everyone's responsibility to curate their own online experience. Haters will be blocked.

I'm queer (no, queer is not a slur.) Non-straight, asexual, married to another woman for 6 years now. I'd say a majority of my best friends are trans or otherwise non-cis. If you’re cis and find trans/non-binary/intersex/non-gender conforming etc people strange and frightening, by all means – stick around! I reblog quite a lot of trans-positive content. Maybe it'll offer insights! Any TERF-rhethoric will be blocked and shut down on sight, though. This is a safe space.

I'm Swedish. Socialism works. Just saying. 👍

These are simple facts – if any of the above is a dealbreaker, just click unfollow and everyone will probably be happier in the long run. :)

The less problematic stuff: I'm a professional illustrator, though currently on more or less permanent sick leave. Despite sometimes crippling social anxiety, I also ended up teaching art classes - Life Drawing and Concept Art - at the local university, and was often told I was one of their most popular and well-liked guest teachers. I'm self-taught as a writer, though I am a sponge when it comes to prose and language, so for any skills I have picked up over the years, I can only thank those whose works I have read throughout my life.

I like trying my hand at most creative crafts; painting, woodcarving, glasspainting, pewter pouring, looking to try out resins soon maybe..? I take tons upon tons of pictures. If you know me better, you have probably been exposed to my random ”Look at pretty thing X I saw today!” photo-assault. (It's a love language. ♥)

I used to study archaeology at university for years, before sidling over into a creative career as a museum-illustrator, and then onward to other projects from there. It's amazing what a 100.000+ year view on humanity will do for your sense of perspective! People are people. People have always been people. We are all one people - and diversity in culture, ethnicity and language is one of the most beautiful arts of our human race. Our differences and samenesses always to be equally celebrated. (Now if we could only get better at looking back and learn from previous civilizations' mistakes so we'd stop repeating them...)

I like cats. And betta fish. And purple roses (I used to collect purple rose cultivars, before I got too fatigued to be able to take care of my garden properly. Some still live! Rhapsody In Blue is a trooper, if you want a really hardy purple rose! They can even live in pots, if you don't have a garden.)

(See, I told you I could never resist a chance to share a photo...)

I am very, very forgetful. I got my neurodivergence diagnoses very late in life, and by then my brain was so burned out, it's permanently damaged. Fatigue, memory problems and concentration issues are things I always struggle with. If I ghost you, it's not because I'm upset or dislike you – I either missed your message, or forgot about it, or just didn’t know what to say. I'm sorry. I'm trying my best. ♥

I believe in kindness.

I try to be kind and understanding, and meet others with patience. It's taken me a lifetime fraught with generous amounts of trauma to learn to feel strong, comfortable and mostly at peace with myself, and I have very little interest in conflict or drama.

That's about it, Silvy all summed up.

Wishing all you a happy weekend!

#long post #longpost

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peppermint2d · 4 years ago

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F#$%ing uh, Calm after the Storm cuz the Storm Thing

Chapter 1:

When you took the job at the Essex Enquirer, you had hoped to work in your speciality, investigative war journalism. Since every taxi you tried refused to take you to Kong Studios, right now, the only war you're dealing with is the fight you're having with your GPS. The winding road, plus the rain, and the fact that your company car was ten years old caused your GPS to think you were driving in circles. Luckily, you could see your destination already. In fact, most of Essex could see Kong Studios, the haunted building on top of a great hill.

As a sort of hazing, all new employees get assigned to local entertainment news. You cringe when you heard about the guy who had to write about the mysterious appearance and subsequent disappearance of the shit statue in the city centre. Thankfully, your assignment was much tamer: you only had to interview a local band. You bought their EP "Tomorrow Comes Today" and have been blasting it on the way over. They sounded amazing, and with each repeat of the record, you became more and more excited to talk to them.

But with each kilometre you drive closer to Kong, you become more and more nervous about the surroundings. The heavy rain that was coming in was not helping anything either. There were thunderstorm warnings for that weekend, but it wasn't supposed to be for another day, so you hope the rain will let up soon for some outdoor shots of the band. You stop your car in front of the gothic gates that spelt "Kong" out in the metal bars. You push on them and they do not budge. You see a little intercom box and press the button, a loud buzz signalling that the thing still worked.

"Huh? Who's there?" A gruff voice answered your call.

"Hi. Mr Niccals? I'm here for the interview."

He grumbled. "Right, yeah. Forgot about that." Another buzz punctuated his sentence and signalled the opening of the doors.

You were soaked to the bones as you finished the drive up to Kong. You couldn't tell if your shivers were because of the fact that you were cold or because of the fact that you were driving through a cemetery.

You park your car and rush under the cover of the doorway with your camera and notepad. You knock on the double doors, and although you let your host know you were there earlier, it was a couple minutes before he even opened the door, shirtless, which you filed away to be included in your article.

His eyes looked you up and down "So you're the reporter, eh? I figured they'd over some crazy bat for local news, but I guess I'm special, right?" He smirked at you, his eyes hungry.

"I suppose so. May I?" You gesture to the doorway that he was blocking.

He stepped out of the way, closing the door after you. "I could give you a tour and find the rest of the band?"

"Was I unexpected? I'm so sorry." You flush. Your first assignment and your boss forgot to tell your subjects. How professional.

"It's alright, pet. We get so many journalists that we are always prepared." He slung his arm around your shoulders, leading you around the ground floor.

"So, Mr Niccals, how did you come to own Kong?"

He frowned. "Call me Murdoc, babes. Mr Niccals is my father."

"Right, sorry, Murdoc?"

He hummed, "Just like that." He cleared his throat. "I found it online about two years ago. It was supposed to be a short-term thing, but the owners, they just threw me the keys and left. So I figured I was the owner then. The bowling alley is right in here, by the way." You hurriedly scribbled what he said down.

Your interview continued like that, you asking questions ( "Have you been in any other bands?") and Murdoc answering them ( "Loads. None quite matched my skill though.") while you walked from room to room ( "Here's the recording studio. Found that pelt myself, I really think it brings the room together.") and took notes (Murdoc does not wear deodorant and should).

"Here's the best room of the house. Our very own carpark."

"An eighteenth-century mansion has a carpark?" you asked in disbelief.

He led you inside the space. "I think the biker gang put it in. Crazy bastards. At least now I have a spot for my Winnebago! Want to see it?"

"I'm fine, Murdoc. I don't need to see your private quarters for the article."

"Who said anything about it being for the article? I have real Egyptian silk, mmmm." He started to lead you to his Winnebago.

You stopped walking with him, causing him to stop as well. "Interview first, yeah?" You didn't know any other way of turning him down without running the risk of him cancelling the interview altogether. You start to head over to a doorway that you thought led back upstairs.

"Those go to dents-for-eyes' room. This way takes us upstairs, pet." You climbed the stairs with him. "Up here's really only the kitchen, lounge, and Noodle and Russel's rooms."

He was right, the stairs led directly into the kitchen. All of the rest of the band was gathered there, huddled around a stack of pizza boxes. "Oi! Where did the pizza come from?"

"We ordered it when you were playing dress-up." One of the band members said, and judging by his accent, he was from America.

Murdoc stomped. "I was not playing dress-up! I was trying on costumes for the show!"

You got out your notebook and wrote that down. You could feel the attention of the band on you now. "Oh sorry, I'm here to interview you!"

"Oh, cool. I'm Russel," The American said, "that's Noodle," he pointed at a child who was claiming an entire pizza pie for herself, "and the blue one's 2D."

"Konichiwa!"

"Nice to meet yew!"

You smiled back and greeted them both. The blue one, 2D, was certainly blue, or at least his spikey hair was. His eyes, on the other hand, were pitch black, none of the whites of his eyes was visible. It gave him a unique look and you wonder if it was done intentionally.

Noodle picked up a slice and was about to eat it when you said "I hate to interrupt dinner, but if you could pose for some pictures before you eat, I would really appreciate it. None of that pizza sauce on your faces."

Noodle grumbled but complied, putting the pizza down.

"Where'd yew want the photos?" 2D asked.

You look at Murdoc. "Would it be alright if we take them in the studio?" He shrugged his shoulders and led the way downstairs.

The band posed like they were in the middle of performing. The only issue was that 2D was so tall, that, from your angle, he covered Russel. You spent a little bit of time repositioning them until it was perfect. Just as you were about to take the photo, the lights in the studio went out. The lights everywhere went out.

"A bleeding outage? Right now?" Murdoc fumed.

"I'm sure it will turn on again soon, in the meantime, I guess you can get back to dinner." From somewhere in the darkness, Noodle cheered. "But someone is going to have to help me out of here, I can't see anything."

"You and 2D" Russel chuckled.

Only Murdoc had a phone on him, so he used it to light the way. It especially came in handy when everyone grabbed their food and sat at the table. Murdoc sat at the head, of course, with Noodle and Russel on one side, and you and 2D on the other. Everyone started to eat and you watched them all, mentally taking notes on their habits. You were not surprised that Murdoc chewed with his mouth open. What did surprise you was that the other men actually used their napkins properly.

"'ave yew 'ad dinner? Would yew like some?" 2D offered some of his pizza to you, but you declined. You were bound to get home soon anyway and it would just be unprofessional to eat your guest's food.

"She doesn't need your pizza, Face Ache, she will be getting plenty of my sausage tonight." Murdoc snickered, but no one else at the table joined him.

You awkwardly cleared your throat. "Would you guys be okay with answering some questions while you eat?" They all hummed in agreement while they ate. "So how did you all meet?"

The table became a little tense and all of the members looked at Murdoc. He set his pizza down. "I met 2D first, hit him with a car. Then he joined my band."

"Tell the 'ole story." 2D grumpily persisted.

"Fine. My buddies and I were looking for some keyboards. We crashed into where 2D worked and I hit his eye, proper breaking the thing and sent him into a coma. I had to oversee the poor little mutt as my punishment. I took him to a Tesco and was pulling some wicked tricks that the girls loved. Apparently one of my doughnuts was too fast because 2D went flying through the windshield and hit his face on the curb, breaking the other eye. When he stood up, he was so powerful, I knew I had to have him in my band."

"I 'ad no choice in the matter."

"As if you would say no."

As they start arguing over 2D's involvement, you were still processing the story you heard. Murdoc doesn't seem to be the best person. Murdoc doesn't seem to even be a good person. He seems actively dangerous, and you don't want to be around him longer than you need to. You make note of the whole story and add in a personal note to look up his criminal record.

"So, Russel, how did you join Gorillaz?"

"Murdoc kidnapped me."

That's really not helping his case. "Please tell me that Murdoc had nothing to do with Noodle's joining?"

"Nah, she just randomly showed up one day in a FedEx crate. Played the best guitar I've ever heard and only said her name. Everything else is just Japanese." Russel looked over to Noodle, who nodded, understanding exactly what you guys were talking about.

This was certainly some band. You ask a couple more questions, as required by your boss. "Which song on the EP is your favourite?" "Tomorrow Comes Today." "When can we expect a full album?" "Soon." "Are you surprised by the attention you're receiving?" Murdoc, of course, thought he deserved more, but the other members were much more humble.

After you finish that up, you tell them to pretend like you're not there to get a grasp of their dynamics. They eventually went back into their normal rhythm of banter, but that doesn't stop 2D from trying to include you in their conversation.

They finish their food and 2D gets his portable DVD player and puts on some zombie movie. You're surprised that they let Noodle watch it considering how young she is, but she seems the most enthusiastic. You don't join them on the couch, opting for the floor where the light from the player illuminated their faces. Since you didn't get a picture, you may need to have a drawing instead. You're nearly done when Murdoc announces a piss break and gets up, Noodle and Russel, grabbing snacks.

2D stayed behind on the couch. "Yew know, yew make funny faces when yew draw."

"You were watching me? Oh god, that's embarrassing."

"Seen dis movie loads before, so I got bored and 'ave been watchin you the 'ole time. Sorry, I forget about the 'ole no pupils fing. Freaks people out. Nofing up 'ere to remember that wif though." He gestures to his head.

"No, no, no you're good! I was just too busy drawing to pay attention." you laugh and try to play it off. In reality, it did startle you a bit initially to learn he was staring at you, but honestly, you don't mind and just got to get better at guessing where his focus is.

He smiles wide, showing off his missing teeth, and it lits up the room as if the generators were back on. "Soda?" You nod.

2D and the rest of the band return to the couch, having to wait for Murdoc who apparently has a bladder the size of a horse. He hands you your soda, peeps a glance at your drawing, and gives you a thumbs-up of approval.

You drink the soda and start penning what you think your article may look like. However, the sugar high fades quickly and you're exhausted.

Sharp pain in your side wakes you up and you yelp. You hear the band laugh at what's happened, everyone, except for Murdoc who is groaning on the floor beside you. "Bloody 'ell! What the fuck are you doing on the floor?"

You gulp. "Sleeping?"

"You can do that in my Winnebago with me instead of on the ground, love," Murdoc suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I'll settle for the couch over the ground, if you don't mind me staying over that is. So, where are your duvets?" The band members look around and collectively shrug. "No blankets... I'll just suffer the cold."

"My offer still stands." It did sound slightly better now, but the prospect of him also being there upset you.

"I can survive the cold for one night." Famous last words.

It was freezing in Kong Studios. Your teeth were chattering and you couldn't feel your toes. It's been like this since you woke up after only sleeping an hour.

How are you supposed to warm up? You tried exercising, which was good until you sweated a little and that cooled to ice. Now you're even colder than before. Perfect.

You start to walk around, trying to warm up and think. You couldn't start a fire, not only do you not know how to start a fire, but you also do not want to burn the studio down. And they didn't have blankets... but maybe they have big coats?

You retrace your steps from the tour of the place, heading to where you hope was their rooms. You really only remember trying to get Murdoc to stop leading you back to his Winnebago. You inadvertently walked to the carpark since it was really the only place you could remember to navigate in the dark. Kong Studios certainly didn't feel homey before the lights went out and now the hairs on the back of your neck are standing on edge.

It was pitch black in the hallway, so you ran your hand along one of the walls, yelping every time it touched the edge of a picture frame. You feel the wall take a right and you follow it down, seeing a sliver of light emitting from under a door. Light? Such an unfamiliar sight now. You pray that it was not the bathroom with Murdoc and scented candles inside as you gently knock on the door. You would even prefer Noodle, who would be the worst suited to help you, than Murdoc. The light is certainly coming from a scented candle. A heady scent of vanilla has slipped under the door and is extending into the hallway. Your knock received no answer so you tried again, this time louder.

Louder.

At this point, any louder and you would have woken up the other members. So, you open the door a creak to peek inside.

What a sight to behold. The light from the candle made 2D's hair shine a bright azure and cast huge shadows on his far wall as he danced to his cassette tape. His dancing was awful but endearing; he looked like a baby dear that was still getting used to using its limbs. Abruptly, he stopped and you thought he finally noticed you, but then he rushed over to the papers by the candle and wrote something down, which you could only assume was a lyric.

Without any warning, he looked up and made eye contact with you. You stared at his black eyes, waiting for him to say something. He hummed and crossed out a part of the writing.

You had watched him for long enough, so you knocked again, which gained his attention. "Noodle? Is that yew?"

You opened the door further, "No, uh sorry to bother you so late..."

He began to tidy up the papers he was working on, tucking them behind him. "Hiya! What can I do for yew? Got more questions?"

You're so glad that he didn't mind your intrusion. His light smile put you at ease. "Yeah, I suppose I have one. You don't have anything to keep warm with? Like a jacket maybe?" You were surprised that he wasn't bothered by the cold, only wearing a T-shirt over a thin long-sleeved shirt.

"Oh. Yew cold? I might 'ave somefin! May swallow you 'ole though." His voice cracked as he spoke as he started digging through the piles of clothes on the floor, looking for something. He pulled out a blue jacket, not unlike the colour of his hair, and held it out. "This is one of me favourites! I fink it looks punk, don't yew?" You nod. It did indeed look wicked. "Go on, put it on! I would like it back when yew're done, if that's alright." He looked so nervous asking for his own property to be returned.

You smiled warmly at him. "Of course 2D, you have my word." You slip it on, and he was right, it was way too big on you! Most noticeably in the arm length, where the edges of the sleeves hung off your arms. It was heavy and warm and smelled like cigarettes and something else, something you could only imagine as 2D. It felt like a safe hug. Maybe 2D should be nervous about you keeping it. "I see why it's your favourite."

He scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. I 'ope to wear it in a music video! If Murdoc lets me, that is." At this point, he sits back down again. "Wanna stay? I've gots more zombie mofies! Like Dawn of the Dead... or Evil Dead... or Zombie Flesh Ea'ers!"

"Sure, but I'm winded." You yawn and snuggle deeper into the jacket.

"Don worry! I'll pause it if yew fall asleep." He grins and pats the ground next to him, where you join him. "Which ones 'ave you seen before?"

"None of them. Which is your favourite?"

"NONE OF 'EM? Well then, we gotta watch Dawn of the Dead, it's the first Zombi mofie!" He loads the film and puts the tiny player in front of both of you, turning off the candle to make the lighting better. "I'm so excited for yew to watch dis! It's been a couple monfs since I saw it meself."

He lets the movie play, occasionally pausing to explain why a certain scene was so impressive in horror movie history. You barely watch the film, rather you pay attention to 2D, mentally tracing the look of excitement on his face and committing his hand gestures to memory. You never know what may be important for your article.

#2d gorillaz #2d stuart pot #2d x reader #stuart pot x reader #2d fanfiction #gorillaz fanfiction #gorillaz fandom #phase 1 #stuart pot

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swimfuel · 4 years ago

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okay humanstuck thoughts under the cut

i owe a lot of this to @/rhythmic-idealist's kankri/vantasposting bc holy shit theyve got such a big brain (ill link to their individual posts when im on desktop since im using this to keep all my thoughts straight and i agree with most of what they say wholeheartedly)

general status quo stuff:

signless works in an extremely demanding career involving helping others (i'm leaning towards an attorney who works with organizations and does pro bono work), and is also extensively involved in social justice work outside of his job... he is very rarely home

he loves and cares for his children deeply and tries to express it whenever they're face to face, but the couch in his cramped and messy office has seen far too much use over the years for him to have been able to say it enough

his habits of working himself to the point of exhaustion are handily passed down to his kids btw

the kids had to grow up quickly because signless was out of the house so often and so consistently—kankri, who was already pretty high-strung, has to learn to take care of himself and karkat

they grow up near ms firuzeh maryam, who's their pseudoaunt/grandma (she took in a nine year old kavana vantas when she was about twenty), but they just call her ms rosa

they spent a lot of time in the maryam house growing up, with miss rosa's two nieces. porrim is a year older than kankri, while kanaya and karkat are the same age

kankri grows kinda sensitive to people trying to mother him since it rubs against the notion that he's the "adult of the house" and that he can take care of himself and karkat just fine

(and it also kinda underlines the fact that kankri has no idea what he's doing at the best of times)

and ironically enough, kankri becomes overbearing and naggy towards karkat in his own right, which forestalls them becoming close in any brotherly sort of way

they grow up really just... unable to communicate with one another clearly

karkat develops his ornery exterior in response to kankri's constant stream of opinions and frantic attempts at making up for the presence of a guardian in the house

i think there would actually be some really interesting parallels with rose in this au.. maybe i'm drawing from my own experiences as well but i think he'd begin to assume that every time his brother opens his mouth, he's going to criticize karkat

but instead of reacting like rose with the "making yourself more of a puzzle"/passive aggressive stuff, he gets a more defensive/hackles raised/"argue with you before you can argue with me" approach

and the thing is that they do love each other and would take a bullet for the other etc etc etc.. but they don't know how to express it because they've fallen into these shitty patterns

and it really doesn't help that kankri has grown somewhat resentful of signless over the years... that mix of resentment and fear and love gets more extreme and more polar every time signless gets injured during a political demonstration

i think kankri and signless would also be slightly closer than karkat and signless, as signless' job really only started to ramp up when karkat was less than years old and kankri was in his early double digits

kankri autistic btw its word of god (i am god)

karkat has a pet crab. its name is also karkat. he vents his frustrations to it.

i feel like the vantases exemplify both the best and worst parts of their aspects with one another as well... the strength of their bonds keeps them together and grounded, but TOO grounded. [insert Blood rant here]

the Blood rant:

i define Blood as bonds, responsibility, and the "core". if Life is the fertile soil and everything living on a planet's surface, then Blood is the gravitational core of the planet keeping everything together

i also think Blood, Heart, & Mind work in tandem to define a person just as blood serves to connect the pieces of the human body... Heart is the soul and the self, Mind is the application of one's self through active choices (agency), while Blood defines both the self and the choices one makes in greater detail [and, as an aside, Life provides the physical spark of life needed to keep the heart pumping blood]

OKAY wow that got tangential anyways

SO BASICALLY! too much Blood makes you stagnate, so for example:

kankri is split between staying home with karkat or going to college across the country and being truly unbound for the first time in years

another crisis of Blood: signless is caught between his empathy and responsibility to the whole world and his responsibility to his own children

okay so here's more status quo stuff:

the maryam and vantas kids grow up together and its hilarious because you'll see them all together and its just like (girlboss) (girlboss) (physical manlet) (emotional manlet)

the maryam girls are actually miss rosa's nieces but she took them in when they were both pretty young

the pyropes know the vantases well enough considering pyrope senior and sign have known one another from their respective legal practices for years, but they live on the other side of town

the leijons lived in town when kankri and meulin were very young, but they moved and travelled for a long time before coming back and reestablishing their roots

the captors (psii being one of sign's oldest and closest friends) move into town with the peixes family pretty early on though

the condesce is.. a horrible spouse and guardian, to put it plainly. she's very emotionally manipulative and isn't averse to smacking people around, including her own family. she moves herself and her perfect little family into town so she can properly oversee a new business venture close by

feferi is one of the best young swimmers in the country and has a pretty good shot of getting onto the olympic team.. a lot of this drive to be perfect and to be better results from the condesce's unrelenting pressure and thinly veiled resentment throughout her whole life

so yeah psii, )(ic, feferi, and sollux all live together and it's really not great for anyone involved. (meenah ran away years ago, and crashed on aranea's couch for a pretty long while—mituna moved out with latula for college before psii and the condesce got married)

it gets bad to the point of sollux staying with the maryams for two months while the adults try to sort out that absolute clusterfuck and get the divorce proceedings going (meenah finally convinces feferi to get out and come stay with her and aranea for the duration as well)

in terms of relationships i think latula and porrim were really really close in high school, and probably had some kind of unacknowledged thing going on for a while that never actually turned into anything because latula and mituna were going steady

kankri has had a crush on latula for years but never acted on it for similar reasons

meenah still carries a lot of that give no fucks attitude (it's developed moreso as a defense mechanism here) and can't understand why feferi refuses to leave the condesce with her

okay back to VANTAS MANPAIN i also think that karkat feels the weight of a lot of expectations on his shoulders as well

he feels responsible to live up to the example his dad and his brother set, even if it's to his own detriment—and kankri's oblivious rambling about his grades and his teachers and all his clubs certainly aren't helping the matter

kankri is one of those overinvolved kids taking a million AP's while simultaneously shitting on the collegeboard at every single step

hes this super overachiever anal retentive perfectionist type dude and (just as karkat preemptively criticizes others to forestall their criticisms of him only to harshly criticize himself) kankri subconsciously holds the people around him to the same expectations he holds for himself

so karkat also develops this sense of lacking which, in combination with everything else, culminates in self loathing and thinking he has to solve everyone else's problems and getting horribly mad at himself for every little mistake

GOD i have a lot more but lemme post this before i accidentally close out of the app and lose it all

more little details:

vriska's mom and terezi's mom HATE each other like HATE HATE HATE one another it's so bad

karkat wrote a ten page review of my immortal in middle school

jade is one of nepeta's best online friends

sollux can't raise one eyebrow at a time.. karkat gives him so much grief about it

the vantases eat a lot of shitty renditions of persian dishes until karkat learns to cook because literally the only person in the world with a CHANCE of getting KANKRI VANTAS to make an EDIBLE DISH is miss rosa

kanaya is really good at persian dance too but is VERY VERY embarassed to perform in front of people.. however porrim definitely is not

karkat has insomnia while kankri just stays up stupidly late for assignments that really shouldnt be taken that seriously.. but they both have the same rumination/sleep anxiety thing where your brain goes insane with horrible and depressing scenarios as you try to sleep

and more ideas that i thought were interesting but idk how to fit in the context of this au:

signless and disciple getting married pretty late in life after having been in love for years, the vantases move in with the leijons and karkat suddenly has two sisters

nepeta and karkat are both juniors at this point, meulin is probably in her third year at a local college nearby while kankri is about to start his second year at a university pretty far away

the kids in general honestly but ill figure it out

more random hcs this time with kids:

kanaya and rose get into a flame war online that gradually settles into elaborate courtship rituals

also nepeta + jade online besties

also bec can inexplicably still teleport

the first sbahj movie comes out and the next six months of dave strider junior's high school career are absolute hell

actually hc that dave senior goes by d strider professionally. the d stands for a lot of things

aradia and dave frequent a lot of the same forums but never end up really interacting

meanwhile karkat and john frequent a lot of the same forums and DEFINITELY end up interacting. this turns into grudging (at least on karkat's part) friendship after they find themselves fighting for their lives defending an objectively shitty movie together on the same thread

#humanstuck #vantas family #.

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moonlightchess · 3 years ago

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a brief interlude in which a young mortician finally meets his patron saint.

(Diaphanous).

Around five years old, when he first started hearing them. Soft, muted weeping echoing lightly through the cavernous halls just beyond his bedroom door, and by ten he was accustomed to sliding out of bed, yawning, padding to his doorway to step out into the endlessly shadowed maw veining through the upstairs of his family’s home. The moaning creak of the floorboards was easily avoidable if you knew where to slide your feet, which by then he did, and he’d whisper into the dark: “You’re okay. It’s all over now, but stay as long as you need to. You’ll be getting along when you’re ready.” And even then, there was something profoundly tender and melancholy wrapping itself around little Theodore like an aura, to which the ghosts usually responded favorably. On occasion, they’d even slip into his bedroom after he climbed back into bed, gently tugging his duvet over him in thanks.

Sixteen, and Pere introduced him to the family business in the most definitive sense yet, bringing him down into the embalming room. There, he was shown how to drain the bodies, to sew their gums securely closed, to carefully apply powders and lotions to suggest sleep despite death. Pere helped him to remove the heart and lungs of a corpse in the preparation process of the old fashion, despite it having fallen out of favor in more recent years. Bellefontaine, Louisiana, lingered a decade or two behind much of the nation, in every way from embalming practices to racial sensitivity, both topics having already been addressed with young Theodore. “A person is a person, deserving of respect and love and dignity regardless of their skin, wealth, or any other such thing that the ignorant might think defines them,” Theodore senior had informed his small son firmly, long ago, meeting his midnight-blue eyes that were so solemn and sympathetic even then. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Pere.” Theodore had not understood, not entirely, back then. But at sixteen, hunched over the dead body of a local bait shop owner whose wife made the softest, sweetest beignets he’d ever tasted, clarity rose sharp and bitter. “Monsieur Dumonde,” had escaped him before he could swallow the words in the interest of professionalism. “I knew him. Used to buy worms from him when the boys wanted to go fishing, but it’s been so long. I didn’t know he was sick.”

“Everyone dies, ti-Theodore,” and he’d been in love with the way his name rolled from his father’s tongue in a thicker cajun accent than his own - tee-tay-oh-doure, Theodore junior. It was enormously soothing, even now as he considered shaving Monsieur Dumonde’s thick mustache away for his funeral - but in the end, he placed the straight razor back onto his father’s table of sharp tools, aware that his decision had been a test. “No. We leave the mustache, he always had one when he was alive. He used to tug on it and laugh at our homemade fishing poles whenever we went into his shop. His mustache was a part of him, and it’s important that we send him to the next with as much of the man he was intact as we can.” He’d been a little nervous, meeting the dusk-colored eyes that he’d inherited from his beloved father, holding his breath.

“Good boy,” and he’d exhaled. “There are many who would have shaved him, cut his hair, put on some strange new clothes he never would have chosen himself. But you, my sweet and quiet boy, you understand.”

Mere had been a dancer, once. Ballet had been her life, her identity, until a careless would-be principal prince had stumbled into her leap - during a rehearsal no less, she’d been denied even the dignity of a grand disaster to end her career in the middle of a soaringly tragic performance - and her ankle had snapped, had never healed properly. She limped a touch even then, bringing sweet tea out to their wraparound porch thick with creeping ivy and heavy flowers bursting open at random, studding the lush green like jewels in a necklace, where her teenage son sat cross-legged on a battered loveseat long since dragged out to face the elements of the swampland. Together, they would count the darting fireflies, tiny pinpricks of golden light waging a valiant war against the encroaching southern dark. “I was beautiful once,” she’d said to him. “They all used to come watch me dance, in the city.”

“You’re still beautiful, Mere.”

She’d only sighed, slipping a hand into the pocket of her pea-green silk skirt to retrieve a shot bottle of bourbon, hoarded from the liquor store in town, and poured it into her tea.

They were both gone now, six, seven years proper. He’d prepared their bodies, and in death all of his mother’s pain and longing had been exposed to him with the first incision into her cold and rigid flesh for the draining, sixty-two years of ballet and resentment filling up the glass reservoir of the tubing’s end, dark red. She’d always done up her soft, honey-colored hair into elaborate braids, draped over one shoulder or both or trailing down her back or even wound up into a twisted crown if she was in a happier mood than usual. Theodore had sat beside her, holding her stiff milky hand with his own and with the other, scrolling through youtube tutorials on how to create the perfect fishtail braid until he was confident.

Pere had gone five years after, the light in him having drained out as clear and real as every fluid in his wife’s body had eventually found its way into the belly of their aspirator in the basement. Pneumonia had taken his mother - she’d always had a poor and fragile immune system - but his father had been just shy of seventy and to this day, at thirty-two years old, Theodore had never been offered a satisfying cause of death for him. “Just his time, sug,” a nurse in powder blue scrubs had tried, patting his hand soothingly and because this was the south, “I’ll be praying for y’all - well, just you I suppose. Oh lord, you’re the only Bissonette left now, ain’tcha?”

He was. They’d left the entire mortuary to him, and with it all the responsibilities of being the local mortician and funeral director at such a tender age, and his head had at first swum dizzily with all the pressure and expectations. Theodore senior and his wife Lisette had been fixtures of their country community, familiar and comforting, always there whenever someone had passed on to arrange flowers and platters of cold cuts, to deliver gentle words to cushion the grief. They’d been known, trusted, but Theodore junior, well. Ti-Theodore Bissonette, so young to be running the whole house himself, and the folk of Bellefontaine just weren’t sure. Until the death of little Suzette Marchande.

Hit by a car, she’d been, some hideous beast driving drunk through the winding access road circling their little cajun town and pointed out toward Nola proper. He was in prison now, but Suzette remained dead, and in his huge, capable hands Theodore had poured every bit of his father’s knowledge and sensitivity into that girl. He’d dressed her in yellow, one of her own dresses supplied by her mother, but he’d also remembered that she’d loved frogs. She’d catch them in the swamp and hold them in both hands, laughing at their croaky sounds, but then she’d carefully deposit them onto some leaf somewhere. “They got big ones, in the jungle. The Amazon,” he remembered her saying when the Bissonettes had run into she and her parents in town once, years ago. “Big as cars, they are. I’m gonna go there someday and study ‘em.”

So he’d bought sparkly little green frog clips for her hair online, pinning it back from her freckled face. Her favorite stuffed froggie, named Monsieur Ourauron, Mister Ribbitt, had been lost in the crash, but he’d found one in the Amazon - or at least on amazon - that looked largely the same. When her parents had seen her during the open-casket service, they’d wept and clutched his hands, thanking him in a babbling blend of French, English and grief. That day had declared the end of one life and the beginning of another, as little Suzette had been delivered unto whatever waited after, but thirty-year-old ti-tay-oh-doure had been manifest and confirmed.

There was something to be said for how tall he was. He would have thought some would find it intimidating, difficult to relate to considering that he was six-seven or perhaps a touch over, impossibly long limbs and a hawkish nose, soft mouth borne of his Mere and his father’s nearly indigo eyes the color of a sky five minutes before the moonrise. His was soft, floppy, peanut-brown hair and a quiet timbre resonating in his voice that was immediately associated with the unthreatening sense of calm authority that his father had once carried around easy as an old sweater. Theodore would take care of everything, Bellefontaine knew. They’d be left free to grieve their lost, because he was here with his huge hands and endless legs and fleeting smile.

He lived alone, now. There had been flings, lovers, Audrey from Nola with her autumn-brown skin and fox-gold eyes, elegant and sure, but she hadn’t stayed long. “This place is charming, but you can’t actually expect to stay here all your life, can you?” she’d told him once, after the sex, the two of them naked and wrapped around each other in his sprawling bed with a gentle breeze from outside floating through his open window. She didn’t understand, and neither did the men, not even sweet Peter with his auburn curls and dimples.

“You’re all alone out here, doesn’t it get boring? Lonely? My god, you live in a mortuary.” His shiver had been all that Theodore had needed to kiss him tenderly and send him on his way. His father had been extraordinarily lucky to find Mere, he knew - so few understood, the nature of a curator of death. The ancient contract they’d signed, the tradition they’d inherited. It was sacred but horrifying to most, because everyone wanted the convenience of their holy order at the end of all things, but no one actually wanted to have to think about dying. About the fact that literally all of them, rich or poor, pious or skeptical, afraid or unafraid, was going to die. The repulsion, he understood, was instinctive, and he’d only made his lovers breakfast in the morning and never called any of them back.

Some of the ghosts never left, as it was, and there were mornings in which he’d make his way into the kitchen to find his black tea already steaming, his chair already pulled away from the table. Some of them had found their peace here with him, and so he’d leave his cello out on occasion so that they could pluck the strings or plink a few keys on his mother’s old baby grand in the living room. He was happy too, his natural introversion leaving him largely content in his solitary life. There were those who sought comfort in his touch after the funerals of their loved ones, holding onto his hands a beat too long as he bade them goodbye, meeting his eyes meaningfully, but he always released them to the hazy swamp air outside. They were hurting, vulnerable, and he was a gentleman.

It rained the night the stranger arrived, or stormed rather - Theodore’s lights had been flickering throughout the manor all night. He’d collected candles and charged his phone, but his power had soldiered on even as the thunder crashed and jagged needles of lightning slashed open the churning charcoal sky outside. He’d yanked open the heavy oak door in response to some insistent knocking, only to find a man roughly his age standing there on the porch. He was oddly untouched by the rain despite no car present behind him, moon-pale, spilled-ink hair thick and soft over limpid, silver-mirror eyes, colorless as a deep-sea creature’s, slicing through the dark.

“Saints alive, are you lost? Are you all right?” The man, he didn’t know personally, but a truth and clarity rolled from him like steam off the swamp, and he felt enormously familiar somehow.

“I wouldn’t say lost, no. May I come in?” His voice, soft and polite, still clear and steady over the storm.

“Yes, forgive me. Please.” He stepped aside, watching him enter, translucent eyes sweeping over the yawning, shadowed maw of the grand old manor’s entryway. “Who are you? I’m sorry, but I’m not taking in any bodies until morning.”

“I understand. Terribly sorry to intrude upon your evening like this, but you and I, we have a matter to discuss.” His accent was not local, nor was it unfamiliar. It felt like a forgotten dream, abruptly remembered, an old song once loved playing on the radio years later.

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize you, Sir. Have you been to one of my funerals?”

“Sweet Theodore, I have been to all of them.”

“I don’t understand.”

The stranger clasped his hands behind his back, idle as a museum patron, gazing thoughtfully up to the enormous and heavily framed oil paintings of Bissonettes past lining the walls of the entryway. “It’s my fault for allowing myself to become so fond of you, but you’ve never really understood just how rare a person you are, have you Theodore? I shouldn’t have come here, but I had no choice. I couldn’t let you leave here tonight, that tree would have rendered your car to a smoking wreck and your body to worse. And you, sweet Theodore, you deserve so much better. After all the respect and care and compassion you have shown so unfailingly to myself and my vocation over the years - I’ve come to love you, and you deserve a soft and quiet end. So much sweeter than the one planned for you, I had to make sure you didn’t die in that crash. I had to come here, on this night. For all your kindness, tonight I will be kind to you.”

Drunk, perhaps. Some sauced-up tourist stumbling through the bayou after a bar crawl, but - this far from the city proper? “I’m afraid that you’re still losing me, will you please tell me who you are?”

He turned then, colorless gaze meeting Theodore’s, an echo of sorrow in his faint smile.

“You know who I am.”

In the end, it was true. He supposed at least a part of him had known from the moment he’d opened the door.

“I do. I didn’t think I’d meet you this young in life, but I’m pleased to find you a gentleman, Sir. I can only hope that in the time you’ve allowed me, I’ve done you proud.”

“You and your whole dear family. You don’t know how much I owe you, all of you. You would have lingered, in pain, on life support, for months. It was unbearable, unacceptable. Not you, not my Theodore who has served me so gently and so diligently for so much of your life.”

“I suppose it’s time, then.” He was not afraid. Death, he knew. He’d existed out here in a kind of stasis for years, honoring his patron saint, the man standing before him in a soft black sweater and reaching out to slip an arm through his.

“It is. But I think the storm is winding to a close, and the mists are always so lovely. Why don’t we go see.”

Nodding, Theodore allowed himself to be led to the door, turning briefly to look back just one last time into his beautiful old house, his shrine to a softer death than most knew existed. He’d always done his best, to make the transition as easy as possible for those on their way to some other place, and now it was time to go.

“Will it hurt?”

“Not for you, no.” The stranger opened the door then, and Theodore couldn’t be sure that the new world laid before him looked the same to both of them, but he smiled at what he saw.

“You were right. It’s beautiful.”

The house and the ghosts left wandering its halls signed in unison with the departure of their beloved Theodore, but the rain had slowed and the moon had risen and they were patient enough to wait a while. Someone would come, someone as warm and bright as him, someone who would take care of them as tenderly as he had, some new Theodore born. In the end, after all, nothing ever really died, and daylight was coming on soon, sure as a promise.

#writeblr #writing #my writing #fantasy #death #louisiana #i'm still feeling shy about my writing but i'm completely obsessed with this character right now #just a little something i hope y'all like it

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ificanthaveu · 4 years ago

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The 1 || Harry Styles

Description: Based off The 1 by Taylor Swift (read the lyrics to get the gist of what this’ll be about)

A/N: WOOF my first harry fic!! The second I heard this song, I knew I had to make it into a fic. However, it just didn’t feel like it fit Shawn or Calum, and I just knew I had to use Harry for it. I’m in love with how this turned out and I’m so happy I have time to write again. Hope you love this as much as I do.

Word Count: 3k

Parking your car down the street from the large brick house, you got out and glanced at the homes as you passed them, with doormats with family names and numbers larger than necessary to indicate the address. Every yard was perfectly done with professional landscaping and lawn care, a stark contrast to your apartment upstate where you barely had enough time in the day to place a plant on the balcony.

“I’m telling you, the customer will be fine with it. I promise,” you explained through a sigh as you fiddled with your necklace.

You heard your assistant sigh as well, and you knew he was probably hunched over his desk and tugging at his shirt sleeves.

“A four box shortage, [Y/N]? This is the second time we’ve done this to them in the past five months,” he said, the exhaustion evident in his voice as he stared at reports.

“And I will send them the backups we have of last year’s version. Everything will be fine,” you said calmly as you paced back and forth in the driveway once you made it to the house, your new heels clicking against the pavement.

“I don’t get how you’re so calm about this all the time,” he mumbled as you heard him typing.

“It comes with practice. Now finish the email and get over here,” you said.

“Whatever you say, boss,” he said through a laugh before hanging up.

You tucked your phone into your clutch and placed it back down by your side. You looked up at the house and took a deep breath before walking to the front door.

You pushed it open and were met with people filling the living room and kitchen, greeting people they didn’t know, and having conversations with people they did.

Your phone buzzed before you could find someone you knew, and you glanced down to see a text from your assistant Trevor.

Trevor: You were right. They took last year’s version no problem. You’re a genius.

You shook your head and laughed to yourself before sending an “I told you so” text and looking at the email you were copied on.

Starting and running your own online clothing store in college was one thing. But that turning into a chain of over 70 stores across the United States and Canada was a whole other thing.

But no matter how many nights you fell asleep at your desk at 2:00 am just to be woken up by Trevor coming in for work at 7:00 and begging you to go home and shower, you loved what you were doing.

You had genuinely never been happier. Even if you never thought you would be.

---

“What’s your happiest moment?” Harry asked as you sat next to each other, waiting for the Sunday matinee to start at your local theater.

You leaned your head back and look at him from the corner of your eye.

“I don’t know,” you said.

He had a slight smile as he looked back at you.

“That’s not an answer,” he whispered.

You shrugged your shoulders, taking a few pieces of the popcorn from the bucket sitting in his lap.

“I don’t think it’s happened yet,” you said simply.

“Hm,” he said, looking at the screen as the movie started playing.

Once the movie was done, the two of you walked back to his car, his hand lacing in yours naturally after he pulled you up.

“What do you think the best movie ever is?” You asked as he tugged you in the right direction.

“I don’t know,” he said, returning your reply.

“That’s not an answer,” you said as you crossed your arms as he unlocked his car and opened your door.

“I don’t think it’s been made yet,” he said before closing your door.

You sat alone with that thought before he climbed into the driver’s side.

“Why do you think it hasn’t been made yet?” You asked.

“Same reason your happiest moment hasn’t happened yet,” he said, resting his hand on the back of your seat as he backed out of the parking spot, making your heart race.

“We’re young,” he said, his eyes focusing on the road ahead. “I just think I have hundreds of movies that I still have to see. Just like you have millions of moments still to encounter.”

“See I think those are two different things,” you argued. “I still have to get married, have kids, start my dream business. But the classic movies, the ones everyone loves have already been made.”

He nodded his head, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Good point; however, I think the greatest films of all time were never made,” he said.

You stayed quiet, mulling the thought over in your head.

“How is that possible?” You ask, turning in your seat and resting your knee against the center council, fully enveloped in whatever he had to say.

“I just think someone out there has the most amazing idea for a movie anyone could ever think of, but he’s an engineer or a grocery clerk or a stay at home parent so he’ll never make it. We’ll never know.”

“But if it’s really going to be the greatest film, someone will come up with it and go through with it.”

“I don’t think so,” he said simply. “I think some stories are too good to be encapsulated into a film.”

“How so?” You questioned

Harry pulled up in front of your dorm building before turning towards you.

“You and I are the only ones that really know what today is like for us. Today could make the best film ever, and no one would ever know,” he said.

You let your smile tug at the corners of your lips as the concentrated look stayed on his.

“You think today is too good to be a movie?” You said quietly.

A blush crept up on his cheeks before he turned forward and leaned his head on the back of his seat.

He didn’t say anything, instead nodded his head and looked at you again.

The sun was getting dangerously closer to the horizon, reminding you of the homework you hadn’t finished yet.

Before you could second guess it, you leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, not allowing him enough time to even move his hands.

Without another word, you jumped out of the car and ran to the door without looking back to see the blush stay on his cheeks as he watched you.

---

You shook the reminiscent feeling as you walked forward, glancing at the pictures adorning the walls by the staircase.

Tanya, a friend from college, locked eyes with you from across the room as you quickly waved and made your way to her.

You greeted her with a quick hug as you sat down next to her on the sofa.

“It’s been way too long,” she said as she leaned back and you did the same.

“Tell me about it,” you replied.

“You’re just too damn busy to get ahold of. I’m surprised you even made it today,” she said with a confused look on her face.

“My assistant is going all the dirty work currently,” you said as you made a face.

“On a Saturday?” She questioned.

“Retail never quits.”

“How many stores now? Was it like 60 last time we talked?” She asked, leaning towards you to hear better as the party got louder.

“76 actually,” you said as her eyes nearly bulged out of your head. “77 next week when our newest one in Miami opens, which I’ll actually be headed to tomorrow morning.”

“Ms. CEO is really out here taking over the fashion industry,” she said with the shake of her head.

“That’s the goal,” you said with your customer service smile, a pang hitting you once again.

---

“Why are we doing this?” You said as Harry dragged you to the middle of the mall where the fountain was.

“You can’t just walk past one of these and not make a wish,” he said as he dug in his pockets.

“So we’re going to waste two cents just to wish for something that isn’t going to happen?” You asked with crossed arms.

“That’s the goal,” he said with a smirk before pressing a penny into your hand. “And you don’t know if it’s actually never going to happen.”

You went to throw it in before Harry’s hand enveloped yours.

“You can’t just throw it in like it’s nothing,” he said with an offended look on his face.

He kept his hands around yours, holding them together as the penny burned against your skin.

“We’re going to close our eyes, think of our wishes, and then count down and throw them in,” he said.

You simply nodded as you smiled at how into this he was.

“And you have to believe every bit of it or it won’t come true,” he said seriously.

“Ok,” you whispered.

You both closed your eyes, and you rocked back and forth on your heels as Harry’s hands tightened around yours.

You peaked one eye open to see how concentrated he was as you thought of the only wish that made sense.

I want it to be you.

“Ready?” He whispered.

You hummed in response as you both opened your eyes.

“Three,” he started the countdown.

“Two,” you cut in.

“One,” you both said as you threw your pennies over your backs and into the fountain, hearing them go in with a gentle splash.

Harry’s hand found it’s way back to yours as you tugged him to the candle store you came here for.

“What’d you wish for?” You asked him as his arm wrapped around your shoulder, your hands still laced together.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” he said.

“It was worth a shot.”

---

“You good?” Tanya asked as you snapped out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” you said as you plastered your smile back onto your face.

You turned away from her as someone else she knew came up to greet her. Your eyes scanned the decorations around the room, mostly white, silver, and gold, also looking at the pictures once again.

And then you see him.

He’s laughing at something his friend said, his head thrown back as his curls flopped with it. He was wearing a button-down, like always, with not nearly enough buttons buttoned up. He sipped at a glass of rose as he turned to someone new with a new conversation.

He looked good. Really good.

He looked happy.

You stood up from the couch and made your way to the far wall of the room, pulling your phone out to see the newest message from Trevor telling you he was on his way.

You looked up from your phone and locked eyes with him.

He stopped his conversation as his eyes felt like they bore into your soul.

His hand lifted up to give you a gently wave and a smile as you returned it.

That smile still made you melt.

But it was gone in a moment as that look of hesitation washed across him.

---

Your final words were hurled at him as you sat down hastily on the couch. Your fingers knitting into your snarled hair as you tried to catch your breath and begged your tears to stop falling.

Harry continued to pace in front of you. The frustration radiating off him.

“I just don’t get it, [Y/N]. I don’t know what else you want me to do,” he yelled as he choked on his own words.

You stayed quiet, having answered this question already.

It wasn’t his fault. But maybe it was, and maybe it was yours or maybe it wasn’t. You couldn’t keep track anymore, and you were sick of the blame game.

You knew you wouldn’t be here if you would’ve brought it up weeks ago, how unloving he’d been lately. How distant he’d felt when his arm was thrown around you. How his answers were the same but somehow different.

You couldn’t pinpoint it anymore.

Everything just felt off.

It felt wrong.

It felt like he didn’t love you anymore. Or at least he wasn’t showing it.

“I don’t know, H,” you said softly, not having it in your heart to yell anymore.

He scoffed as he continued to pace, tugging at the ends of his hair.

“I’m not the only problem,” he said, stopping to look at you as you continued staring at the ground. “If this started months ago, why didn’t you say something then? It would’ve been a hell of a lot easier than this.”

“I don’t know,” you said more sternly this time.

“You never do,” he mumbled.

You didn’t reply to that one as you felt your heart slowly break into two as he sat down next to you. The familiar feeling of his leg pressed against yours was long gone as he sat on the opposite end of the loveseat.

“I deserve better than this,” you paused.

Harry waited for you to finish your thought, his hands balled up in tight fists.

“And so do you.”

You could feel him relax even if he wasn’t touching you, coming to the conclusion neither of you wanted to come to.

That you needed someone who showed every emotion they had face forward in order to understand.

And he just couldn’t give you that.

That he needed someone who spoke up everything they were thinking.

And you couldn’t give him that.

Your heart finally broke in two as you felt Harry’s arm wrap around you and pull you into his side, taking your legs and swinging them over his lap like you always would.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give that to you,” he said softly.

You rested your head against his shoulder as your breathing slowed back to its regular pace.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give that to you either,” you replied.

Once your tears stopped flowing, you removed his arm from across your legs and stood up.

And you left.

---

You continued to watch him as he grabbed a second glass of rose and made his way across the room, dodging in and out of people trying to talk to him.

He ended up in front of you and handed you a glass as you nodded to him as a thank you.

You didn’t feel the anxiety you thought would creep up into your stomach. You just felt content as he leaned against the wall next to you.

“Congratulations,” you whispered to him.

He nodded his head in thanks as he gave you that same soft smile you fell for.

You both looked across the room to see the Vice President of your company showing the glowing ring to some friends that Harry slipped onto her left ring finger just a few weeks ago.

You knew it would end up here.

Somehow, when Katherine raved to you about the guy she had gone on a few dates with after meeting him on Tinder, you knew this was going to be the guy she’d end up with.

You just didn’t think it would be the same guy you broke up with two years prior to that.

But even after Katherine and you pieced everything together, you insisted she kept seeing him.

She always radiated the type of energy you knew Harry was attracted to.

Her eyes met yours as she saw the two of you from across the room.

She raised her hand up to wave with a sparkling smile on her face.

You both waved back as she held up a hand to let you know she’d be over in a little bit before turning back to her current conversation.

“She always reminded me of you,” you said after a few moments.

Harry didn’t say anything, instead, he turned to look at you with a still face.

“Even before I found out about the two of you, she’d say something in a meeting, and I just couldn’t help but think you’d say the same thing in the same situation,” you explained.

“It just made sense, the two of you,” you said quietly.

Harry nodded again, taking a sip of his drink.

“Thank you,” he finally said after a minute of comfortable silence.

“For?”

He shrugged, not really knowing why he said that.

“For not freaking out, for being here, for being everything that you are.”

You thought something like that would make your heart shatter, but it didn’t.

“You know I’d do anything for you,” you paused. “For the both of you.”

He nodded again, this time looking a little upset. You could still read him like a book. You knew he was on the verge of saying something he wasn’t sure if he should actually say.

So you took the leap before he could.

“We were something, don’t you think so?” You said softly.

You looked at him as he looked across the room, watching Katherine as she talked to another one of your employees.

If you hadn’t been staring at him as intently as you were, you would’ve missed the slight nod of his head.

“But I’m not the one.”

He turned to look at you after he said that, and you locked eyes.

“I know,” you said as you smiled at him. “But wouldn’t it have been fun?”

Harry’s smile matched yours, adoring the way you just said what you were thinking. Something you had such a hard time with years ago.

He simply nodded his head, his smile not faltering as he held his glass up to yours.

You held yours up as well, hitting it against his with a small clink.

“To the future Mr. and Mrs. Styles,” you said.

He shook his head slightly, a smirk adorning his face.

“I’ve done enough of those today,” he said.

He pulled back his glass to clink against yours again.

“To us.”

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Not tagging anyone on this bad boy since you signed up for Calum/Shawn, but send me an ASK if you’d like to be added and state FOR WHICH PEOPLE

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ellaenchanting · 4 years ago

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Hypnovember Day 18: Monster

Ellen sat in the back room of the coffeeshop quietly sipping her tea. The other members of the hypnosis meet up group were slowly gathering after their break, chatting and catching up before practice portion of their group officially started. She strategized about what it would be helpful for her to practice tonight. Her traitorous brain eagerly supplied some silly power fantasies. She quickly suppressed them. That kind of stuff wasn’t fair to think about here. It wasn’t everyone else’s fault that she was so warped.

Ellen both loved and hated the group. She wasn’t just into power fantasies- she was genuinely interested in hypnotherapy and doing hypnosis for fun. She had been very surprised to find a local hypnosis practice group existed at all where she could practice her skills and learn more . (It was tiring having to work up the nerve to bug her friends to volunteer to be practice subjects.) Of course, she was the youngest person there and usually the only woman but- that was OK. She had long ago accepted that that most actual hypnotists were middle aged men and she was an odd aberration.

She felt like an aberration in other ways too. Few of the hypnotists here seemed to struggle with nerves in the way she did. Group practice often brought those nerves on . She hated the way they would make her words come out stilted and wrong, her gestures awkward, and her metaphors so mixed up until they ultimately went nowhere. When it got really bad, Ellen’s childhood stutter would return in full force. It felt important and meaningful to her that she got it wrong so often- like she had failed to perform in some cataclysmic way.

It also felt meaningful when she got it right. Ellen would feel proud of herself for her mastery of something and then almost immediately the thought would sneak in- “if only they knew”. It’s not that the hypnosis she was doing with the group had a sexual charge- group members ranged from kinda- to very- not-her-type- but she could only imagine the disgust her subjects would feel if they knew the full range of thoughts she had about hypnosis internally. Or, even worse, if they could see her web browser history. How would they feel being taken advantage of by such a perverted monster?

In a lesser but still meaningful way, Ellen also felt annoyed that she had never quite been hypnotized yet despite many, many attempts. Usually practice time involved pairing up and switching turns being the hypnotist and the subject. Ellen would usually go along with others’ inductions and give them some technical feedback afterwards, but the truth was she rarely felt anything besides plain, comfortable relaxation. She knew there was more- she could see it in the reactions of some of the people she hypnotized and the incredible mental feats they performed. She had evidence that this kind of deep hypnosis existed. She just couldn’t access it herself.

Ellen was shaken out of her reverie by a voice.

““Hi! I heard your name was Ellen?””

She looked up to see the group’s newest member. He was a little older than her- probably mid- to late-twenties- and had a nice dark beard. When she replied with the affirmative, he extended his hand and shook hers confidently.

“Hi, I’m John. Do you have a practice partner yet?”

Ellen and John socialized a bit before starting their practice. This was normal at the meetings- partially because of mutual nerves but also because everyone welcomed the opportunity to geek out about an unusual personal interest. John said that had been doing hypnosis for about 5 years- around the same time she had- but he had already started a stage show and was planning on turning it from a hobby into a career. She was impressed. She found herself feeling surprisingly connected to him. She wondered if he had that effect on everyone he met. If so, it was a neat trick.

When they finally got down to practice, Ellen started by doing a modified Flowers induction. She had come in with the intention of throwing in a lot of language patterns into her induction- she had been drilling her Zeebu cards lately- but an odd change of mood happened as she watched John start to sink into hypnosis. Something about the way he responded to her words, melting and seeming to almost to throw himself into trance, triggered something in her. She found herself hovering closer to him, her voice going softer as she spoke closer to his ear.

She almost reached out and touched his arm when she remembered- no. That would be inappropriate. She caught herself and reminded herself to be professional. She gave John a few generic positive suggestions and then brought him back up out of trance.

John took a surprisingly short amount of time to recover, his expression showing alertness almost immediately. When she remarked on it, he told Ellen that he was actually a very practiced subject- that he had purposefully worked on his ability to be hypnotized. Ellen hadn’t even known that was possible to do- the research she had read strongly suggested that someone’s ability to be hypnotized was pretty static and unchangeable. She confessed to John that she always had difficulty being hypnotized and envied people who could access that state easily. She worked to keep the longing out of her voice as she described her desire for the experience of knowing she was deeply and truly hypnotized.

John paused for a moment after she spoke. He gave her a curious, searching look. Then his face cleared as he seemed to decide on something.

“Hey, do you mind if I try something a bit different?” he asked.

Ellen nodded. She switched positions with him and made herself comfortable as per his instructions.

“Can I touch you?” John asked.

All things considered, Ellen thought she hid her spike of excitement quite well. She nodded again.

John started steadily and confidently speaking to her as he traced a finger lightly up and down her hand. He wanted her to focus on the feeling of the finger going up and down, he said. Ellen gamely focused her attention. It felt nice, that light touch.

John continued to talk to her, telling her she didn’t have to worry about going into trance or getting sleepy or being hypnotized- all she had to do was focus on his touch. That was good- Ellen had historically bad luck with those concepts. She dutifully focused, even as she had some stray thoughts about how amazing John’s voice sounded. John’s fingers started to move to trace her arm up and then back down, all the while continuing to talk to her about focus and enjoying how the touch felt. Ellen still noticed some of the clever words he said, but the specifics were fading. It was all beginning to feel like a general wave of instruction washing over her. She was vaguely aware he was speaking to her more directly now and telling her how good she was doing and enjoyed how pleasant those things were. Suddenly-

“Sleep!”

John’s hand grabbed her arm and pulled it gently downwards. Ellen felt her eyes close as her head nodded forward. Her whole body slumped. Fortunately, John was kneeling in front of her and waiting to catch her. Once he did, he took her shoulder and rocked her deeper and deeper into trance with his words and his touch.

It felt amazing- just like she had always hoped that it would. John finally stopped rocking and took her hand. That gesture felt so right and lovely and perfect that Ellen felt herself quietly moan in response.

And then....she noticed she had done it.

Suddenly thoughts flew back into her mind. What was she doing? Did everyone else hear her? Were they watching her now? Were they realizing what a creepy pervert she was?

Ellen violently sat up, opened her eyes, and yanked her mind awake. Shaken, she took a moment to clench and unclench her hands, reminding herself that she had power over them. She was up. She had control of herself. She was OK.

After a few breaths, she looked around the room and noticed that no one else seemed to be looking at her. She resisted the urge to cry in relief.

She finally noticed John was there, still on his knees and giving her a concerned look. “Ellen?” he asked firmly. “How do you feel? What happened?”

She took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to....I made a noise and I didn’t mean to be...awkward. I’m really sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he replied, going back into a more soothing voice. “Being hypnotized feels good sometimes, yeah? It’s ok to enjoy it. Is that what happened? It felt good in..in a way you weren’t expecting?”

Ellen nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m..weird, I didn’t mean to be weird,” she replied, still very flustered.

He looked at her gently. “You’re not...you’re not that weird. Listen, I get you might not want to talk about this here but- we could talk about it after practice maybe? I think we may have some things in common.”

Ellen thought about everything she had seen about erotic hypnosis online. All the misogyny. All of the shame and degradation people wrote about. She pictured the sexy stage show she had downloaded parts of and how much the hypnotist seemed to relish in people’s genuine embarrassment.

She remembered that she didn’t really know John at all.

“No!” she replied sharply. Then gentler- “I mean, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s OK. I’m OK.”

He nodded. “You are, you know. And it’s OK if you’re....if you’re not ready yet to talk about it. But- “ He made sure she was looking at him as he said the next part. “There’s nothing wrong with you. And- if you do ever want to talk more about it or even ask questions, here’s my card. Call me anytime, ok? I mean it.”

He produced a business card out of his pocket. Ellen hesitated, then took it.

Just then, the leader announced that their practice time was over and moved onto wrapup. Ellen waited for everyone’s attention to be gathered, then snuck out the back on the building. She needed some fresh air. She was done with hypnosis for tonight.

But she thought of the card, still in her jacket pocket, the whole bike ride home.

#Hypnovember #monster #poor lil Ella #I mean Ellen #things will get better #things that never happened to me #but arguably should have

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pikapeppa · 4 years ago

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Professor Solas/Lavellan: First Impressions

Chap 1 of Inadvisable (professor Solas AU) is posted! In which Nare Lavellan has a chance run-in, literally.

Beautiful art by Nare’s creator, @elbenherzart!

~2400 words; read on AO3 instead.

- NARE -

Nare swept her hair into a tidy ponytail, then gave her face one last critical look before stepping out of her bedroom. She tapped lightly on the closed bedroom door across from her own. “Tamaris?” she called. “Are you–”

“I’m coming,” Tamaris grunted. “Give me two fucking minutes.”

Nare smirked at Tamaris’s customary early-morning surliness, then padded quietly down the hall to the living room. Athera was waiting pertly on the couch with a half-finished cup of tea in her hands, and she grinned at Nare as she approached.

“She’s awake, at least?” Athera asked.

“Awake enough,” Nare said drolly. She sat next to Athera and tucked her legs up on the couch. “Are you nervous about your first day?”

Athera laughed. “Me? Nervous? Of course not! Just a normal first day doing this job for the first time in the only Ancient Elvhen Studies program in the entire country. What’s to be nervous about?”

Nare sympathetically eyed her friend’s bright smile. She didn’t blame Athera for being nervous. Athera had been looking for a research coordinator position for years. Her new job at the University of Orlais was well-earned, in Nare’s opinion, and it was just a stroke of happy fortune that Athera was starting her job at the same time that Nare was starting her Master’s of fine arts with U of O’s prestigious — and infamous — Ancient Elvhen Studies program.

It was also serendipitous that Tamaris had decided she wanted a change of pace and place, resulting in the three girls splitting the rent on a cozy three-bedroom-plus-studio apartment close to the university.

“Don’t be nervous,” Nare said warmly. “It’s going to be great! By the end of the week, the director will be wondering how they lived without you making the whole lab twice as efficient.”

Athera grimaced and ran a hand through her hair long chestnut hair. “I don’t know. Professor Abelas did not sound that impressed with my lack of experience during the phone interview. I’m still surprised I got the job.”

“He probably thinks he can train you up fresh since you’re so-called ‘inexperienced’,” Nare said knowingly. “He’ll see how good you are in two seconds. I’m sure of it.”

Athera smiled at her. “Aw, you’re sweet. I bet you’re going to impress your new supervisor just as much when you meet with him tomorrow.”

“I hope so,” Nare said. But her belly jolted at the mention of Solas.

Professor Solas, she reminded herself. Just because she had a crush on her new supervisor’s voice didn’t mean she could start thinking of him in an informal way before they’d even met.

Oh, but he had such a gorgeous voice. The majority of her communication with Professor Solas had been via email, but the one time they’d spoken on the phone… Fenedhis, Nare couldn’t get it out of her mind. His voice was smooth and mild like a hot vanilla latte, with a curl of an Elvhen accent that made something shiver in her belly in a very visceral way. She was still surprised that she’d managed to keep her calm and sound like a reasonable and intelligent person after hearing Professor Solas’s first few words floating into her ear through the phone.

And that was just from hearing him talk about the Elvhen art stream of the program and the opportunities for exhibiting her work in the galleries in Val Royeaux. Imagine if he ever spoke to her in that beautiful smooth voice about other, less professional things…

Stop it, she scolded herself silently. She was being so stupid and horny, developing a crush on a man purely for his voice. Well, not just his voice: he was incredibly intelligent and knowledgeable, and strong-willed to the point of stubborn as well, if his academic position papers were anything to go by. But if Nare was being honest, his intelligence wasn’t the main thing that had been keeping her up at night for the past couple of months since she and Solas had last spoken on the phone.

It was stupid to be thinking such carnal things about his voice, though. She didn’t even know what he looked like — not for a lack of trying to find out, if she was perfectly honest. She’d searched online for a photo of her soon-to-be supervisor, but he didn’t have a faculty photo anywhere on the U of O website, and a Google search had been shockingly unhelpful, leaving Nare with only a blank slate to imagine along with that knicker-melting voice.

“Nare, you okay?” Athera said.

Nare jolted slightly, then smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

Athera gave her a shrewd look. “Something tells me I’m not the only one who’s nervous.”

“I thought you weren’t nervous,” Nare teased.

Athera grinned, but Tamaris’s grumpy voice interrupted before Athera could reply. “You guys have nothing to be nervous about. You’re going to impress the shit out of everyone. Now let’s go get some coffee already.” She wandered over to the door and started jamming her feet into her scuffed black motorcycle boots.

Nare exchanged a smirk with Athera, then popped up from the couch. “Good morning, lethallan,” she crooned.

Athera giggled and hugged Tamaris’s arm. “Good morning,” she sing-songed.

Tamaris groaned. “Fuck off, both of you. I’m only awake this early because I have a client in an hour.”

“Wait, is it already nine?” Athera said in alarm. She checked her watch, then squeaked. “Oh shoot! Oh shoot, I’m supposed to meet Abelas at the office in fifteen minutes!” She shoved her feet onto a pair of flats and grabbed her bag, then flung open the door. “Bye! Have a good one!” she yelled, and she bolted down the stairs.

Nare smiled at Tamaris. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

“Lucky you,” Tamaris drawled. “You get to suffer my morning-gremlin attitude all alone.”

Nare chuckled, and they made their way down the stairs at a more measured pace and wandered toward their favourite café at the end of the block.

It was a perfect crisp early-September day. The sun was a lovely warm wash of light, and the air was fresh and cool without being cold. The leaves hadn’t started changing colours yet, but the quality of their verdancy was starting to shift from the lush springlike undertones of blue to the more autumn-like undertones of yellow. When Nare pointed this out to Tamaris, Tamaris huffed in amusement.

“That’s such an artist-y thing to say,” she said.

Nare gave her a chiding look. “You say that like you aren’t an artist yourself.” She pointedly eyed the delicate vallaslin that curled around Tamaris’s left eye — vallaslin that Tamaris had carefully tapped into her own skin, and the same skills which had imbued Nare and Athera with their vallaslin as well.

“I don’t often work with colour, though,” Tamaris said.

“Isn’t your client this morning for a coloured tattoo?”

“Yeah, but that’s different than painting,” Tamaris pointed out.

“Your tattoo work is amazing, though,” Nare said.

Tamaris smirked. “Fine. We’re both amazing artists with mind-blowing skills. Are you going to buy my coffee for me because I’m so awesome?”

“I’m the student here,” Nare said with a grin. “You should be buying me coffee.”

Tamaris tsked. “Fine. Just this once though, you leech.” She pulled open the café door and gestured sarcastically for Nare to enter before her.

Nare chuckled and slid into the café. They placed their orders together, then sat at a sunny table to enjoy their coffee and fresh scones — vegan blueberry for Nare, and lemon-glazed for Tamaris.

Nare took the lid off of her cup and blew on her coffee. “So you’re coming to the start-of-year mixer tonight, right?”

Tamaris slumped in her seat and shoved a hand through her lush midnight curls. “Explain again why you want me to come to this mixer thing. I’m not a student.”

“It doesn’t matter that you’re not a student,” Nare said. In truth, she just wanted to get Tamaris out of the apartment before she started forming roots.

“It kind of does,” Tamaris said flatly. “It’s happening at the campus bar.”

“Lots of non-students go to the campus bar,” Nare pointed out. “It’s a nice bar.”

Tamaris grunted. Nare leaned toward her slightly. “Come on, Tam,” she wheedled. “Come to the mixer. Athera’s coming.”

“She works at the university now,” Tamaris pointed out. “It makes sense for her to go.”

Nare wilted. “What else are you going to do if you stay home?”

Tamaris’s reply was prompt. “I’ll rewatch The Archdemon Rises 3 for the fifth time and paint my nails.”

Nare declined to mention that Tamaris’s eggplant-purple manicure was still intact since she’d last done her nails two days ago. Instead, she widened her eyes pleadingly. “Please come? We’ll make a girls’ night of it. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Tamaris eyed her stonily for a moment, then sighed. “Ugh, you and your baby blues. Fine, I’ll come.”

Nare beamed at her and took a bite of her scone. A leisurely half-hour later, they stepped out of the café.

Tamaris stretched her arms over her head. “All right, I’m headed home,” she said with a yawn. “You sure you don’t want to wait until tomorrow so we can go to that museum exhibit together?”

Nare shook her head. “I want to see it before my meeting with my supervisor tomorrow.”

Tamaris smirked. “Hoping to impress him with your up-to-date knowledge of the local art scene, huh?”

Nare poked her playfully. “Yes, okay? I want to make a good first impression.”

“You’ll be fine,” Tamaris said. “You always make a good first impression.”

Tamaris’s tone was dry, and Nare gazed fondly at her seemingly standoffish friend. “Thanks,” she said sincerely. “I’ll see you later.”

Tamaris nodded and headed back to the apartment, and Nare turned in the opposite direction toward the modern art museum. She pulled her phone out of her purse and tapped open her browser to check the price of tickets for the special neo-Avvar exhibit; she was fairly sure she’d get a discounted admission with her student ID, but some of the museum’s special exhibits were even free for students, and Nare couldn’t remember if—

She suddenly slammed right into someone.

She stumbled back, then squeaked in alarm as she tripped over an uneven crack in the sidewalk. Her phone dropped from her fingers, and she grabbed for it even as she tried to find her footing, oh no oh shit she was going to fall down–

A strong pair of hands grabbed her arms, and Nare gasped as she regained her balance. “Shit,” she blurted. “I’m so sorry, I – my phone, I was distracted…”

“The fault is mine. I apologize.”

A heated ripple of recognition spilled down her spine. That voice. She knew that voice. She’d been replaying that voice in her head for months and wondering what the person who owned that voice looked like: how tall he was, how big his hands were, what his lips looked like shaped around the liquids vowels of that divine Arlathani accent…

Lightheaded with disbelief, her heart in her throat, Nare lifted her eyes to his face.

Her breath left her in a punch of shock. Gorgeous. He was gorgeous. An impeccably shaven head, a mere hint of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes which put him somewhere in his late 30s or early 40s, lush lips with a perfect cupid’s bow, a delicate divot in his chin and a jawline sharp enough to cut, and his eyes…

His eyes were perfectly lucid, a perfect quixotic blend of light grey and pale blue that Nare couldn’t quite name, and they were so warm. His eyebrows were creased with a hint of concern, and when the crease in his brow deepened, she realized that she was staring.

“Are you all right?” Professor Solas said.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Which was a good thing, because the only words Nare could think were you are fucking hot.

She nodded dumbly. A tiny hint of a smile curled the left corner of his lips, and he released her arms. “I apologize for the collision,” he said, and he crouched down to pick up his book and her phone. “I should know better than to read and walk at the same time.”

Nare watched stupidly as he rose to his full height. Fenedhis, he was tall.

He held out her phone, and Nare carefully studied his face. There was no recognition there. There was warmth in his handsome face, but no recognition. He didn’t know who she was.

Not that she would necessarily expect him to, since he was a professional and an intellectual, and professional intellectuals probably didn’t online-stalk their new grad students to find out what they looked like.

She took her phone with trembling fingers and swallowed hard. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “You are not hurt, I hope?”

Ugh, he was so good-looking. Why did her supervisor have to be her exact ideal physical type?

She dropped his gaze and tucked a stray strand of hair over her ear. “I — no. I’m fine,” she said in a tiny voice.

“Good,” he said. “And again, I apologize for the collision.”

She shrugged and tried to nod at the same time, then wanted to smack herself for being so fucking awkward.

“Take care,” he said. A moment later, he was walking away from her.

She finally dragged in a breath and watched greedily as Professor Solas walked away. For someone who had such a mild voice and such kind eyes, his gait was certainly confident.

Confident and sexy.

Nare blew out a breath and forced herself to turn away. She was shaking. Why was she shaking? Why was her heart beating so hard, not just in her chest but in her entire body?

Why was her mind completely taken over by the thought of Professor Solas stretching her naked body out on a desk, those warm grey-blue eyes scanning her from head to toe before he taught her all kinds of torrid lessons that she would never forget?

Fuck, she thought desperately. I am in so much trouble.

#solas #solavellan #solas fic #professor solas #professor solas au #pikapeppa writes #elbenherzart

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lilydalexf · 4 years ago

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Jintian

Jintian has 21 X-Files stories at AO3 all posted during the original run of the show and all fics you should read if you like beautiful words and lovely character insights (and you do!). I've recced some of my favorites here before, including Argus, Diving, God's Breath, and Seven Days. Big thanks to Jintian for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Many authors from the original run still loom large in my mind, so I'm glad to hear it. The show had great production values and cinematography and iconic characters, and I think that level of quality was reflected in fanworks. Good writing is good writing no matter how old. For myself, I'm happy if anything I made still resonates with people. What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Just doing the math, I first discovered XF over half my lifetime ago. I was a sheltered introverted young'un. Online fandom introduced me to a diversity of people and perspectives I couldn't have found in my "real" life at the time. I'm especially grateful for the wisdom of women who, over the years, advised or supported me or simply led by example – not only with writing, but with everything from relationships to job interviews to finances. And I love that in so many places I've lived or traveled, I've been able to meet someone local who already feels like a friend.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)? The Scullyfic mailing list, ATXC, and archives were my main venues. Scullyfic was such a well-run group, with structured discussion topics, post-episode commentary, and writing challenges.

Also, an image comes to mind: for some reason my dad put our computer in the garage, where we had a fan but no air conditioning, and we lived in the US southeast which feels like the armpit of hell in the summertime. I'd sit in that sweltering muggy heat for hours getting my fandom fix. And the only way to connect to the internet was via landline, which I couldn't tie up during the day, so that meant a lot of late nights as well. My fandom equivalent of trudging miles uphill in the snow?

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general? With regard to fanfic, I learned how to receive and give constructive criticism, before and after posting. Even if it was "just" fanfic, most everyone wanted to improve their writing. I think that was a good mindset for me to cultivate, personally and professionally.

With regard to fandom, I learned how to be an active and analytical consumer, and that there can be many (many!) interpretations of a text. What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show? The fanfic, actually. Somehow in my internet wanderings, I stumbled across Gossamer. Dawson Rambo's casefiles were also early finds. Curiosity about the characters drove me to check out the show.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

As far as writing my own, I had an image in my head which I jotted down, and over several months I kept adding to it – mostly navel-gazing, not much plot. The resulting story was a hodgepodge of different POVs and different tenses. *facepalm* But I received some lovely feedback, and I felt very welcomed. For me the XF community, with everyone's creativity and dedication, was just as inspiring and motivating for fanfic as the show.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I think of it like school. I learned a lot, I graduated, and now it's primarily occupied by a new generation. Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

If XF was like university, then afterward was like graduate school. Sophiahelix and I started a multi-fandom mailing list called Glass Onion and met lots of folks. Livejournal/Dreamwidth became big public platforms which enabled tons of cross-fandom links, recs, and discussions – and sometimes clashes. Although it wasn't as intensely formative for me as XF, I realized that fandom in general has had an undeniable impact on my life. [Lilydale note: That’s a link to a wonderful little essay Jintian wrote about fandom.]

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why? I love the sneak attackers, the ones who seem unassuming or perhaps disadvantaged, but they're actually out here killing the game. Dana Scully was a small-statured person who had to move the driver's seat to reach the pedals – like me – but she was an FBI agent, medical doctor, and forensic pathologist – unlike me, but goals. Other similar faves are Toph Beifong (Avatar: The Last Airbender), Mat Cauthon (Wheel of Time), and Jang Geurae (Misaeng). Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? Several years ago I had the notion to introduce my husband to the show, and it was totally enjoyable and could stand up with shows airing today. (Husband queried: "What is the deal with Mulder? He should have been fired 19 times already." We were in Season 2.)

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

No XF lately, but I'll check AO3 whenever I encounter a shiny new ship. Reading fic is my only fannish activity these days, so I stay happy and conflict-free.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors? It's been ages, but today I'm thinking of torch, Jane St Clair, Jordan, RivkaT, MustangSally, Khyber, nevdull, Justin Glasser, Vehemently, Nascent... On any other day it could be a whole different list. The fandom was so rich and deep in writers. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

My XF stuff was kind of all over the place. I experimented a lot, with mixed results. I guess I'm glad about some of the subject matter I tackled, like Scully's trauma and post-abduction state of mind (and body) in Loss of Yesterday, and the thematically similar Longer Gone, which explored Samantha.

What's the story behind your pen name? Jintian means "today" in Mandarin Chinese. I was feeling existential. 🤷‍♀️

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions? I've only ever told an ex and my husband. They were allowed to read one story – which I chose. They thought it was cool, I guess. I can't remember clearly because I had my fingers stuck in my ears going "lalalala!"

However, I can always count on my husband to say something savagely funny about fandom mess, so I just try to curate his exposure. For instance, he could recap the Msscribe saga but couldn't tell you any of my usernames. He's also met a number of my fannish friends so he knows how we get, hah.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

AO3 Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

As I'm writing this, the world is grappling with COVID-19. I'm wishing everyone safety and health, both physical and mental. If fandom provides a positive escape, embrace and enjoy it!

(Posted by Lilydale on October 6, 2020)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #jintian

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hypmic-writings · 4 years ago

Note

I love your writing!//// May I ask for a scenario where Jakurai becomes smitten with someone who's good at singing, but he discovers they're blind (sorry if this is weirdly specific;;;

Never be sorry, I love writing weirdly specific fics! It just means they’re unique! Hope this is kind of what you wanted~

Jakurai always had respect for the arts.

He could often be found going to plays or orchestral concerts around Shinjuku, using the nights as a kind of ‘alone time’ for himself. He found them quite relaxing and enjoyed attending all kinds of productions.

That night was similar – it was hosted at a local theater that showcased up-and-coming artists from all around the city. Jakurai had seen some of these events before and he rather liked the newcomers. There was a sort of raw, emotional passion that came from many of them as opposed to some of the professionals who often left him wondering if they were simply performing for the money.

As the night went on and the performances progressed, Jakurai hadn’t found himself too attached to any act in particular.

That was, until you come on stage.

From the moment you opened your mouth to hit the first note of the song, Jakurai was taken with you. Your stage presence was more powerful than any of the other acts; your voice was strong and powerful and every melody you sung seemed to keep him on the edge of the seat. The entire music hall must have felt the same because the tension in the air was palpable as you continued to belt out the notes in your song.

When the last chord floated into the air, there was a moment of silence before a roaring of applause was filling the hall. Jakurai found himself standing with the others, giving you an ovation as he clapped whole-heartedly.

He was impressed and wanted to hear more.

It was difficult to find much information about you online and Jakurai felt disheartened as he realized that the next time he would be able to see you (or hear you) would be at another showcase. Every time a new lineup was announced, Jakurai would scan the list for your name

About a week after your initial performance, Jakurai found that you were performing again. This time the venue was smaller, but it was still an impressive gig and he immediately marked it on his calendar.

That night, Jakurai made his way to the venue with something that could only be considered excitement. It wasn’t often that he felt this way, and most certainly not for other people, but he found himself thinking of you more and more.

Of course, he would never assume to know more about you than he did – you had never met him and he didn’t know anything about you. However, you had deeply impressed upon him the beauty of your singing and if that was attainable, he felt as though he needed it.

Jakurai glanced around the smaller hall and spotted an empty table closer to the stage. Once he took his seat, it was simply a waiting game. Waiting for the other acts to come and go, some more impressive than the others, until finally, your name was announced.

Jakurai’s eyes watched you closely as you slowly made your way onto the stage, looking out at the crowd before you. If you were nervous at all, it was not noticed as you smiled at the crowd before you.

“Good evening, everyone,” you began, keeping your tone calm. “My name is Y/N, Y/L/N, and I’ll be performing an original composition,” you explained before turning towards the piano player and nodding at him to begin.

Jakurai’s jaw nearly dropped as you began to sing.

Your voice was not the booming, powerful one he had heard before, but was now light and airy and almost angelic. The stark contrast in your vocal tone and abilities was incontrovertible and Jakurai was immediately stunned. He was not an easy man to surprise, but you had done so nevertheless.

He continued to listen to your soft, heartfelt song and, as he listened to the somewhat sad lyrics, he felt a sense of longing overcome him. He was in complete awe at your ability to convey emotion through your voice.

The rest of the room once again agreed as they all gave you a roar of applause once the song was ended. Jakurai joined in with the clapping and shook his head as he continued to marvel at what he had just heard.

“Ugh, aren’t they amazing? They’re new to the scene too.”

Jakurai’s eyes narrowed as he turned non-chalantly to the couple that was sitting closest to him. They were talking about you and he wanted to know more.

“Such a shame about their eyes though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you couldn’t tell? Yea, they’re blind.”

Jakurai’s eyes widened as he heard what they had said, but he made no move to interrupt their conversation.

Were you really blind? Jakurai had helped many patients with blindness before, but he did not know anyone personally who suffered from it. He could only imagine what that must be like for you as he thought back to your performance in the concert hall the other week.

Could it be that with your eyesight taken from you, your hearing was more acute? Was that why you were able to do such amazing things with your voice? No, of course you had worked hard to get to where you were and you were talented as well, but still. Jakurai wanted to know more, and he knew exactly what to do.

Once the performances had all ended, some people made their exit while others stayed behind to talk with the performers. Jakurai stayed and was sipping his water when he finally saw you exit the side door. This time, he noticed the small cane in your hand, but it was shrouded from his view as a few people came up to you, praising your performance.

“That was amazing, you did so well!”

“Wow, what a show, good job, Y/N!”

Jakurai watched as you politely bowed to them and had small conversations with each, making your way through the people. Once the others had left, Jakurai made his way over to you with.

“Excuse me, Y/N Y/L/N?” he asked, formally. You looked in his direction and nodded with a smile.

“That’s me,” you hummed, happily. Your voice was melodic and sweet, and it caused the corners of Jakurai’s lips to raise.

“Pleasure to meet you. My name is Jakurai Jinguji. I wanted to tell you that your performance tonight was beautiful,” Jakurai said, his eyes steadily fixed on yours. “I saw you at the concert last week as well and I must say that your musical talents are quite impressive,” he added genuinely, chuckling slightly.

You gave him another smile and laughed a little bit.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you to say,” you responded. “I’m impressed that you came to both of my shows. You must have really liked me,” you added with a wink.

Jakurai looked back at you in surprise and for a moment was glad that you couldn’t see his reaction.

“Oh, no it’s nothing like that, please don’t think that I’m some kind of – ”

He was cut off by the sound of your laughing, although it was quite melodious as well and he rather liked the sounds of it.

“I’m just teasing,” you said, your eyes slightly focused lower. “It was a nice compliment, thank you,” you added. Jakurai was about to respond, but you continued.

“But…your name sounds familiar…” you said, bringing a finger to your chin slightly. “Are you famous? You’re not scouting talent, are you?” you added, laughing once more.

Jakurai smiled slightly and shook his head.

“No, I’m merely a doctor,” he said, waving a hand. Your face lit up before him and you brought your eyes back to land on his.

“That’s right! I think you were mentioned on a radio show I was listening to a while ago!” you exclaimed. “I’m surprised someone as busy as you could make time for something like this,” you added, a little bit more bluntly than you had intended.

Jakurai nodded and hummed at your statement.

“Yes, normally I am quite busy, but I find that attending productions for the arts is rather cathartic for me,” he explained, his voice low and deep. “It’s quite nice to see local talent as well.”

You nodded in agreement.

“I can understand that,” you said. “Music has always been a creative outlet for me, so I understand your position. And thank you for supporting local talent,” you added with a chuckle. “We’d never be able to make it otherwise!”

Jakurai responded with a smile and the conversation continued to flow freely for the next several minutes. Eventually, you were called backstage by someone he could only assume was your manager, but before you left, you made him promise that he would come and support you again.

You were not what he had expected.

When he first found out you were blind, his thoughts were that you would be nervous and rather frail, but in fact it was quite the opposite. You were passionate and blunt and he was rather impressed at your ability to be strong-headed.

You were quite the intriguing character and Jakurai only wanted to know more.

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #jakurai jinguji #jakurai #jakurai x reader #jakurai jinguji x reader #hypmic imagines #hypmic scenarios #hypnosis mic imagines #hypnosis mic scenarios

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jawritter · 5 years ago

Text

You and Me..

Chapter 2

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** This chapter is pretty light. Mentions of death of characters parents, Jensen is a little bit of an ass, language, that’s pretty much it.

Word Count: 2057

Pairing: Jensen Ackles X Reader, Jared x reader, OFC Steve x Reader, OFC Justin x Reader.

A/N: When I originally wrote this chapter I didn’t even know who Steve Carlson was, so the Steve in this story isn’t him lol. Oddly enough I wrote this before I even really knew he was making an album lol. Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. After this chapter things tend to start to pick up a little.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

You woke up, much like you do every morning, with the alarm clock going off obnoxiously on your bedside table. Mornings were never your thing, but the bills weren't going to pay themselves. You rub your face hard, trying to force your eyes to focus, and your body to stay awake even though it was putting up one hell of a fight. It wants sleep, and you so desperately want to give it just that.

Finally, after about 15 minutes you roll yourself over and stand up next to the bed, looking around your messy room. You had just moved back to Austin not all that long ago. You had always lived in Texas in one place or another, but just one family vacation to Austin when you were a teenager and you were in love with the city. So as soon as you graduated high school you wasted no time in putting your application in for the University of Texas.

Much to your surprise, and a few others, you were accepted. You had wanted to major in either writing or music. Everything went great for about the first semester. Your grades were good. You worked nights at a local bar, much like a lot of your classmates, and spent your days in classes. You had new made friends, and you were finally starting to get your foothold in life. Well, that's what you thought anyway.

At the end of your first semester of college, your mother was diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer. When your family called you moved back to your home town, dropping everything to be with your family. Your mother and you were very close. There was no way you were going to stay away while she fights this demon that they call cancer.

It was a long fight. Over and over again she defied the odds of the doctors and everyone around her. Still, after a long five-year battle she lost her fight with the disease. Once the funeral was over you knew it was way too late to go back to college. You had taken some online courses though, and gotten your degree in creative writing while you were at home taking care of your mother.

You and your father had never really gotten along, so staying home wasn't going to be an option. With all that in mind, you did the only thing you knew to do. You made the move back to Austin in the same month as your mother's funeral. Your father had over the years fallen into alcoholism. He'd always fought it, but after your mother's death, it only got the best of him. You weren’t going to stick around and watch him destroy himself.

Last year he straightened out a curve on the way home. He never survived the crash. Your brother had him cremated. He didn't even bother calling you, and telling you till it was all over. Your brother wasn't happy about you leaving home. He blamed you for your dad's struggle with the bottle after mom died, but that wasn't your fault. You didn't put a funnel in his mouth and make him drink. No one twisted his arm. He did it all on his own.

For the past three years, you had been renting an apartment in downtown Austin. It was a small, just a studio apartment, but it was all you needed. You had also landed a job at a small recording stupid in Austin. Even though you loved writing, and still did it on the side, you hadn't gotten your break yet. Music was your passion. It was what got you up in the morning, and helped you make it through the day. It was your therapy. Your outlet. Your escape from this shit existence that was your life.

You had slowly worked your way up In the studio. Starting with getting coffee, and cleaning behind the artist that came in to record. It didn't take long for Steve, your boss, to see that you had a good ear for music. He put you helping in the recording booth not long after you started.

Today you were informed that there would be a new local artist coming in to start his recording process and you were put on his beat. They didn't tell you his name, but they did say that you would probably recognize him. Even though he was local, he was famous, but they didn’t tell you who he was in order to keep rumors down the only one who knew who was coming was Steve. They made you swear not to tell anyone that he was recording, telling you that he wanted it to stay a secret until the album was done. That's why he chose a local recording studio instead of some big one in California.

As you walked to the studio this morning your nerves were vibrating. Justin, another sound tech that would be working with you today, greeted you at the door.

"You ready Y/N?" he asked, greeting you with a smile over his shoulder.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you tell him, putting your purse under the counter in the lockbox you all used and turning your phone on silent. No outside noises were ever allowed in the studio.

"Well I hate to put more on us than we already got, but there are two things you need to know before the artist gets here today. First, Jennifer, the girl that normally does the coffee, drinks, and whatever else the artist needs isn't going to be here today, her son has strep. Second, Steve will also be sitting in on today's session," he said, looking at you apologetically.

You hated working with Steve. He was such a jerk when it came to recording time. He wanted everything done too quickly. Always in a rush to make a deadline instead of taking his time, and getting the best recording.

Jennifer being gone, and two other guys in the sound room with you means that you will most likely be stuck on snake detail for this artist, and whatever bunch of groupies he's bringing with him all day.

"Lovely,” you said with a sarcastic eye roll. Justin continued to look at you apologetically.

“It's cool, let's just get this started. I'll get the recording room ready. How many are in his party today?" you asked, waiting for the answer that you dreaded the most.

"Only one other guy will be coming with him today from what I understand. Today is gonna be a lot of met and discuss. From what I understand there will be a guest singing on this album too. So it's probably a good thing Steve's gonna be here. If this guy is a prick then Steve can handle him."

Justin's attitude toward the whole situation cracked you up. Apparently, he was just as excited about this as you were.

You walk into the recording room and begin to sit out beers, whiskey, water, and even start the coffee pot going in the break room. You walk back in the recording room and start sitting out shot glasses and other things when you heard voices coming your way. You look up in time to meet a pair of deep emerald green eyes staring back at you.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look around the room at all the men.

"I'm the only chick, great," you think to yourself, but there was something about the smirk on the man's face standing in front of you with the emerald green eyes that made your stomach do flips with a feeling you've never felt before.

He smiled at you and It nearly knocked you off your feet. Damn, this guy is gorgeous. That's when Steve decided to speak up.

"Y/N, this is Mr. Jensen Ackles, and his friend, Jared. Mr. Ackles has graciously chosen our stupid to record his debut album," Steve says, moving to stand beside Jensen.

You try to keep your jaw from hitting the floor as you take in the two actors standing in front of you. You had been a fan of Supernatural for years.

You nod at the two men. "It's nice to meet," you say, and they both smile back at you. Neither spoke, which you found odd. When you watched the con videos online they seemed so friendly.

"The room is ready, Steve," you tell your boss, then quickly as you can scamper into the sound room with Justin to wait for them to get started.

You didn't really need to know what all they were doing. You just needed to make sure that whatever they were doing sounded good on tape.

"You alright Y/N?" Justin asks as you sit down in the chair with a huff.

"Yeah, That's Jensen freaking Ackles. I'm going to be working with Jensen freaking Ackles," you say in a state of shock.

"Easy girl, you know celebrities don't like to be fangirled all over," Justin says with a chuckle as he fires up the equipment and computers.

"I'm a professional Justin. I'm not going to fangirl all over anyone," you tell him with an eye roll.

You watch as the men stand there and talk, pointing to different things. Steve getting Jensen ready to get started.

After a few hours of recording, and some drinks later Jensen, as well as Steve and Jared, had loosened up a little. Jared was in the sound room with you guys watching his best friend work. He was easy to talk to. During a break in recording while you were downloading the song he just recorded into the computer, Jared had been showing you pictures of his kids. He'd been cracking you all up with stories for the past hour.

"See this is Tom, trying to prank his little brother with a whip cream pie," he said, leaning over to you, showing you the video. That's when the two of you heard Jensen’s deep voice boom over the monitors.

"Hey, Steve, tell your girl in there to stop flirting with a married man, and go bring me some fucking coffee."

The whole room turned to look at you. Jensen was still sitting in the recording room with a guitar in his lap, giving you a cold stare through the thick glass. The comment stung. You weren't his damn maid, and you weren't flirting with a married man. Steve gave you an apologetic look. You knew you had to play along. Jensen was paying them a lot of money. So if he wanted you to shine his shoes while he sang you had to do it.

"Right away Mr. Ackles," Steve said, giving you a look that screamed, “I'm sorry.”

Jared was giving his friend a death glare that Jensen didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t care.

"I'm sorry Y/N, he's just been a little on edge lately. That's not normally Jensen," Jared apologizing for his friend as you stand to go get his coffee for him.

"It's fine," was all you can say.

In truth though, you felt like he'd just ripped your heart out and stomped on it. Not to mention humiliated you in front of your boss and coworker. You fought back tears as you poured his coffee and entered the recording room.

You handed him his coffee, not even looking at him. He snatched it out of your hand, not even looking at you or saying thank you. You thought you had a crush on this guy. Turns out he's an ass hole like every other celebrity and artist you'd ever meet. Just another cocky dick that thought his shit didn’t stink.

Watching him on Supernatural and Smallville had gotten you through some really hard times in your life. You would have never thought he’d have done anything like he just did to you. You always pictured him as such a nice, genuine guy. Man, were you ever wrong.

You made your way from the recording room to the front where you kept your purse under the counter and shot Steve a text that said you weren’t feeling good, and you had to go home. Which wasn’t totally a lie, because your heart was broken, and you couldn’t stop the wave of tears that were streaming down your face.

You didn’t know why that one man’s opinion had hurt so much. You didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you, but as you fell back through the doors of the apartment you felt like your heart was shattered into a thousand pieces.

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Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @alanegaming @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin

You and Me Tag List:

@idksupernatural

@fuzzycloudsz

@supernatural-bellawinchester

@magssteenkamp

@vicmc624

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanficiton #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles series #jensen x reader #jensen x you #SPN fanfiction #SPN Fanfic #SPN #dark!fic #hurt!comfort #hurt!Jensen #smut fic #jawritter #you and me

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masquerade-story · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 1 - Moving In

"Whose dumb idea was it to go camping like this anyway?" Grey grumbled, smacking away a tree branch that seemed determined to get friendly with his face.

Walking behind him, his twin sister Lillian rolled her eyes and poked the small of her brother's back. "Yours. It was your idea."

"Oh please Crystal! Please oh please might we go live at the haunted house in the woods where we'll certainly perish! I, Dorian Grey Duvall, swear on my sister's honor to let you protect me!" Rayne fluttered her eyelashes, lowering her voice to sound more like Dorian. She yanked the handcart she was dragging over a set of roots, careful to steady its contents before resuming her walk.

"Has to swear on my honor cuz he doesn't have any of his own left after the last time," Lillian snickered, while Grey pointedly ignored their teasing and continued clearing the overgrown path.

Bringing up the rear with a digital camera trained on everyone's back, Crystal grinned and panned the camera to take in the large, dense trees, and huge, leafy bushes. "For a haunted forest, it's actually pretty nice here. Ah, more meadow rue! Specifically thalictrum rochebrunianum, neat."

"Gesundheit," Rayne said, eliciting giggles from the group.

"The lacy one over there with the purple flowers," Crystal clarified. "There's some rue anemone and meadow rue 'splendide' around here too. Don't touch the white flowery plant up ahead by the way, it's giant hogweed. The leaves and sap can give you phytophotodermatitis, making you blister up in the sun."

"Bro, how do you remember any of this? And as for you, you're a scary bitch," Grey cringed away from the plant in question while swearing at it, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at its pretty little flower clusters.

"I read a lot."

"Me too, doesn't mean I absorb any of it! I spent like six hours on Wikipedia the other day, don't even fully remember what I looked up."

"Was it about The Hobbit or Merlin? Cuz that's all you ever look up."

"Look, Lils. I know I'm walking in the front and all, but you don't need to stab me in the back like that. Also sometimes it's Pacific Rim, thank you very much."

"Was it Pacific Rim?"

"No it was The Hobbit."

The group talking and laughing were the self-proclaimed 'Fairy Rock' band Aos Sí Echtrae. Each of them wore a hiking backpack containing personal items, while Rayne also tugged along a sturdy handcart holding supplies and instruments with ease - a drum kit, harp, bouzouki, and keyboard piled up alongside some smaller instruments and the camping stuff Crystal insisted they bring along.

Though their banter was light-hearted and comfortable, they took their excursion very seriously. After all, they'd temporarily rented a locally infamous haunted house to use for a music video! It was a large investment, but they'd become popular online and had enough supporters that they were able to fulfill one of their member's dearest dreams.

Dorian Duvall, or Grey as he preferred to be called by friends, and his twin sister Lillian Duvall played bouzouki and keyboard respectively. Both had the same willowy stature, button nose and almond eye shape, but despite their similarities they both gave off very different impressions. Where Lillian looked soft and gentle, with large doe-like green eyes, and a kind smile, Grey had a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes and a roguish grin that he utilized with careless abandon. Lillian wore her sleek black hair long and loose, falling down past her waist and kept away from her face by a cloth headband, while Grey wore his hair in a high ponytail decorated with small braids.

As the one who absolutely loved haunted houses and anything spooky, it was Grey's idea to film on location for their new Halloween-themed album, Masquerade. Though it was the middle of July, they were hoping to get everything ready for an September promotional release before the album dropped in October, and so hurriedly set up for their video shoot in order to give themselves plenty of time for editing.

All four of them worked together to compose their music, write lyrics, and design stage costumes as well as fan merchandise. They also lacked anything resembling a lead vocalist, taking turns depending on what sound worked best with each song, and preferring harmonies rather than solos.

"Ray! There's a log up here!" Grey called out suddenly, kicking the fallen tree blocking their path. Rayne grunted acknowledgment, and shuffled around Lillian to help move the obstruction.

Rayne Rose played the drums, and also did a majority of the heavy lifting due to being the strongest person present in any room that didn't involve professional weightlifters. Her muscular arms were covered with watercolor flower tattoos, which she proudly showed off by refusing to wear any shirt with sleeves. Her curly hair, dyed a gradient of aqua blue and purple, was cropped close to her face for summertime weather. The short style purposefully revealed ear gauges and more than a dozen total ear piercings, matching the many piercings on her brows, lips, and nose.

The twins had fresh yet roguish charms, while Rayne had a more heroic air with heavy brows and an intense black gaze over lips naturally curved into an amused smirk. She dusted off her hands after tossing the log aside with little effort, while Grey panted for breath from the exertion of merely helping her lift it. Crystal, for her part, made sure to get the whole thing on video for future blackmail purposes.

Crystal Rose, Rayne's older sister, played the harp. Unlike her athletic and statuesque sister, Crystal was on the soft and plump side. Her long, wavy blonde hair was pulled back into a messy twist to keep it off her neck, the ends still pink from the last time she dyed it. Her face was round and childish, with bluish gray eyes above an upturned nose and broad cheekbones, unremarkable features made more charming by her innate overwhelming charisma and natural exuberance.

She was the kind of person that random strangers would strike up a conversation with, lost kids would try to hold her hand, wild animals would approach like an old friend, and when she raised her voice even the most crowded room would quiet down. She was also the kind of person who got carded when buying alcohol despite being thirty years of age, due to what Grey dubbed 'Acute Babyface Syndrome'.

"Anyone need to clean their glasses?" Crystal asked, pulling a cloth from her pocket to swipe hers clean. Aside from Rayne, who wore her contacts, Grey and Lillian both opted to wear glasses for the hike so they wouldn't have to worry about losing a contact forever if they tripped - a serious and ever-present concern for the slightly clumsy twins.

"I'm good!"

"Not yet, thanks."

"I'll take it," Rayne said, keeping her expression blank, and Crystal narrowed her eyes.

"If you wipe your sweaty face with the glasses cloth I'll push you into the patch of poison ivy over there."

"Ope, nevermind then."

The haunted house was a thirty minute hike from the nearest road, along a mostly uphill path that hardly anyone ever used and certainly wasn't wide or steady enough for any automobiles. By the time they reached the stone fence encircling the house's enormous overgrown yard, everyone except Rayne was ready to collapse.

"I'm gonna be so in shape after this if my binder doesn't kill me first," Grey wheezed, leaning on the stone fence and looking up at the haunted house of his dreams with a longing yet exhausted expression. It stood atop a hill in the distance, surrounded by several acres worth of mostly empty property speckled by a few large trees and scraggly bushes. Behind it was a small barn, a chicken coop that hadn't seen use in ages, and a greenhouse conspicuously lacking anything actually green. "A stone brick cottage in the middle of the woods overgrown by vines, a sagging peaked roof with exposed beams, and gaping windows whose panes are cracked like spiderwebs... Looks spooky enough! If the door doesn't creak ominously when we open it, I'm filing a complaint."

Rayne pulled the handcart into the yard, then glanced over her shoulder at Crystal, who was panning the camera up to take a wide shot of the house from just inside the fence gate. "How's it feel, Coco?"

Crystal frowned, furrowing her brows. All four of them believed in the supernatural after they all experienced several strange circumstances growing up, and Crystal had long proven to have abilities that most people would've considered fake nonsense.

She kept a dream diary after experiencing incidents where she'd dream events before they occurred, and wanted to prove to herself it wasn't a figment of her imagination. Whenever something weird happened, she was the first to alert everyone and get them away from danger before anything bad happened, and had an uncanny sense of whether people were lying.

"Hard to say. It does feel... Weird. The walk through the whole forest was fine, but as soon as I walked into the yard... The air's different."

"Really?" Grey raised his eyebrows, hopping over the fence and holding out his arms. He was the second most sensitive to any external oddities, with a particular penchant for finding rather nasty unexplained phenomena. After a few seconds he frowned as well. "No, yeah. That's a weird vibe for sure. It's like, the forest was fine and funky fresh, then you get over here and it's..."

"Musty," Crystal and Grey finished at the same time, and exchanged wry smiles.

"Could be trepidation from perceived fears," Lillian pointed out, gesturing toward the house. Though she also believed in the supernatural, Lillian also liked trying to find reasonable explanations before resorting to the occult. "The big empty windows feel eerie because people expect houses to be brighter and look more lived in, right? It's possible it's just a subconscious response to an old, dilapidated building."

"Dilapidated..." Rayne muttered, raising her eyebrows as she surveyed the house. She had a sensitivity to people's emotions and motivations, and could sometimes pick up lingering feelings from objects, but she didn't feel anything in particular coming from the building. "I don't think it looks that bad? We've lived in worse."

"It hurts me, physically, every time you and Crystal tell us about that kind of thing," Lillian sighed, patting her hand over her heart while Grey nodded next to her. "This place looks gross! It's horrible to imagine little Ray and little Coco in a place even worse than this..."

"Hey, they hired someone to clean the inside and arrange some basic furniture for us to use," Grey said. "It won't be fancy, but the interior shouldn't be too gross! And we'll sleep in the same room for safety! After all... This is the Corpse Consuming Cottage!"

"Ugh, that name..." Crystal and Rayne both cringed at the same time, while Lillian's eyebrows shot up.

"Wait, it's called what?!"

"Yup! Bad, right? But it's earned the name cuz of how many people have gone missing here. Poof! Gone without a trace! Every single person who's ever bought this place has disappeared, along with any family they brought along." Grey grinned, wiggling his fingers at his suddenly horrified twin. "I even made a spooky spreadsheet citing all my sources, aren't you proud? It's legit, this place is either hella haunted or hella cursed."

"Will we be okay!?" Lillian muttered, color draining from her cheeks.

"There's a loophole," Rayne said, and Crystal nodded.

"Yeah, we didn't buy the house. We're just renting. Supernatural stories are always big sticklers on rules, right? Chanting something three times, turning a certain way, walking a certain pattern. If buying the house is part of the problem, then renting it shouldn't be counted as the same thing because possession isn't being transferred." Crystal turned the camera to zoom in on poor Lillian's pale face, hiding her mischievous grin behind the lens. "Theoretically."

"Don't even pretend you aren't absolutely terrified too, Miss I Can't Go On The Haunted House Ride At The Amusement Park I Have A Doctor's Note," Grey scoffed.

"I don't like ghosts or wraiths or poltergeists or whatever wicked whatsits terrorize the night because I feel bad for them thanks very much, but..." Crystal glanced over at the house and frowned, furrowing her brow again. "I feel bothered but not... Threatened? Like there's something here watching but it won't hurt us."

"That's as good as a gold star to me. Let's crack this bitch open and make some lunch!" With renewed vigor, Grey fished the key from his shorts pocket and ran up the creaky old porch to the front door. "Come on in, it's nice and cool inside! Comparatively speaking, I don't think there's an air conditioner. Just fans. But it'll be clean!"

Like he'd promised, the interior was cleaner than the exterior condition belied. Furniture was sparse, but they were all fine wood antiques with a hand-polished sheen. Everyone dropped their backpacks in the foyer and stretched for a moment before getting to work.

"Water's on!" Grey called from the kitchen, where he set the tap to run. "There's dishes and cookware in here too!"

"Silverware?" Lillian called back, in the middle of helping Crystal and Rayne unload the handcart.

"Yup, as requested! I think they're all antique like the rest of everything here."

"Don't you dare break any antique dishes, Dorian Grey!"

"No promises!"

"Electricity works," Crystal said with some surprise, flicking a nearby switch after setting her harp case on the floor in the living room, alongside a towering pile of boxes holding personal things they'd had delivered via the realtor. She held her breath to listen for any crackles or pops, but the overhead light didn't give so much as a flicker. "Wires might actually be okay? That's surprising, this house is really old. Must've been recently renovated."

"Probably to try and reel in prospective buyers," Rayne said, setting down three drum cases. The rest of her kit was already unloaded, so she took a moment to glance around the living room with Crystal. "Inside looks much nicer than outside."

"We can make it look spookier with filters and editing," Crystal said, running her finger against the windowsill. When it came up without dust, she furrowed her brows. "They were real thorough cleaning this place."

"Found the terrifying cellar!" Grey's faint muffled cry echoed from somewhere in the house, followed by the sound of Lillian shouting his full name and charging off after him.

"Any cold spots?" Crystal shouted down the stairs after circling the entire bottom floor trying to find them. The cellar door was tucked into the kitchen's pantry, which was a full walk-in room rather than a little cabinet.

Since the house was so far from town, part of the rental contract involved the current real estate agent making sure the kitchen was stocked before tenants took over. All the shelves were packed full with newly purchased dry goods and spices, mostly sorted into pretty glass jars for aesthetic appeal.

"No cold spots, just some nice shelving, big old ground freezer and a wine rack! Fruit preserves and stuff but they didn't leave any complimentary wine. Zero out of ten, not recommended."

"What makes it terrifying then?"

"Big spiders."

Crystal grimaced and backed away from the cellar door, narrowly evading Lillian as she retreated up the stairs at maximum speed.

The house was surprisingly large. The ground floor had a large open kitchen with an attached breakfast room, a living room, a dining room, a sitting room, a study with empty floor-to-ceiling bookshelves alongside display cabinets, and a laundry/changing room attached to a bathroom with an enormous sunken bath large enough to be used as a hot tub.

"I would buy this house just for the tub," Lillian said, stroking the porcelain with obvious affection.

"Please don't," Grey muttered. "We're evading the horrible disappearance curse via fairy loopholes, don't you go walking into the trap face-first like that!"

"Fine, but when we leave, we're bringing the tub with us."

"Yeah sure that's completely feasible and not at all slightly insane."

The upper floor had five large bedrooms with attached changing rooms, two lavatories, and a walk-in storage closet. Rayne carried their bags into the master bedroom, then returned to the handcart to retrieve the extra supplies they brought - a couple of brand new air mattresses, blankets, boxes of instant food, tents in case the house was in worse shape than expected, a first aid kit, and little tools like scissors, binoculars, and lighters.

"This place is supposed to be super haunted and cursed, yet..." Rayne hummed to herself, patting the mattress in the master bedroom. Every bed in the house was neatly made, with clean sheets and blankets that still smelled like soap. "Won't need the air mattresses. They really worked hard to make this place nice, huh?"

Finally, the attic under the peaked roof had a few small gaps in the shingles, but otherwise lacked any signs of weathering or exposure damage. The only things occupying the space were a few cobwebs in the darkest corners. "Ugh, nothing for us to snoop through," Grey muttered, poking his head into the attic for only moment before heading back downstairs to start moving boxes from the living room into various bedrooms for later sorting.

Crystal and Rayne turned the fans on in all the rooms to start circulating air, opening windows on the shaded side of the house to catch any stray breezes, while Lillian and Grey got started on making lunch. The house which stood empty for so long soon filled with laughter, conversation, and the smell of good food.

"I just can't get over how unhaunted this haunted house is," Grey lamented, tapping a fork against his empty plate. "I've been looking and there's not so much as a suspiciously shadowed corner or creaky stair board!"

"Are you sure those disappearances were legit?" Lillian asked, gesturing for Crystal to pass the salt so she could douse her potato salad. "You checked the sources themselves, right?"

"I did! That's why it's so weird!" Grey drained the remaining water from his glass, glaring down at the ice cubes rattling at the bottom. "Other than the terrible cell reception, weak internet signal, and our gut feelings, there's really no sign of anything being weird. I was promised jumpscares!"

"You were promised no such thing," Rayne muttered around a mouthful of grilled chicken sandwich, deftly capturing some lettuce before it escaped her lips and hit the table. "The outside looks spooky enough for use in our video, we can think of this like a vacation and relax for a bit until we have to leave."

"There's a barn out back, maybe that's haunted?" Crystal suggested, but Grey shook his head.

"I already checked... It's clean as a whistle. No disturbed earth or rattling rusty tools or anything!"

"Would you feel better if one of us got possessed by a demon?"

"Maybe. It'd have to be a really good possession though, if you're not crawling on the ceiling I want a refund."

"Oh, you're paying us?"

"Hell no, a refund of my feelings. My feelings!"

"Speaking of feelings, how do you feel, Coco? Lils?" Rayne interrupted just as Grey was about to get dramatic. "That was a doozy of a hike. You guys alright?"

Both Lillian and Crystal suffered from several health problems when they were younger, and were still weaker than the average person because of it. They had to work harder to remain healthy than most people did.

Lillian, since her mouth was full, flexed her arm and gave a thumbs up to show she was feeling alright. Once her mouth was clear of food, she added: "Mostly just sore, but nothing a long bath and some music won't cure!"

"Coco?"

Crystal gave a start, realizing she'd been staring out the nearest window for awhile and tuning out the conversation. She turned back to Rayne and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just feel a bit woozy, I think."

"Sensing something weird?"

"Honestly? I don't know." Crystal sighed, opening a can of grape soda and pouring it into her glass. "I still feel like we're being watched. And..."

She hesitated, then shook her head. No matter how Grey tried to cajole the rest of the sentence from her, Crystal kept the rest of her thoughts to herself. If she felt they were in danger she wouldn't be so tight-lipped, so they dropped the subject and started discussing their upcoming album instead.

After lunch they moved several beds into one room, turning the master bedroom into a big slumber party area. The rest of the afternoon and early evening was spent getting video and photos of the house and its yard, trying to find the perfect angles for use during the actual performance recording.

Rayne gathered some logs for firewood after noticing a fire pit in the back with some carved stone benches surrounding it. Dinner consisted of an open flame barbecue using packaged meats they found in the fridge, and a few veggies and fruit rolled into foil packs.

"We've really gotta thank that agent lady," Grey said, reclining in his chair. "She really came through with the supplies! It's so good having a fully stocked kitchen from the start, I was worried we'd be having pancakes and instant ramen for days."

"I'll head to town tomorrow and grab more meat for the freezer in the cellar," Rayne said, chewing on a skewer of chicken. "It's got a little variety right now but I'd like to stock up so we don't have to make as many trips. You and Lils might be fine with rabbit food, but Crystal and I need that good good protein."

"We're natural carnivores," Crystal agreed.

"Is there anything else we need from the store?"

"Nah, I can't think of anything. There's like, four entire bags of toilet paper, and towels and wash cloths and soaps and detergent and even pads and stuff. Like, I know we paid for the service but the level of consideration is really impressive!"

Crystal stared into the flickering flames, watching the embers rise into the rapidly darkening sky only to flicker away among the stars. The strange feeling she'd had all day was building to a crescendo, swelling in her chest in anticipation of...

Something.

Rayne glanced over, nudging her sister in the arm. "Coco? You're out of it again."

Crystal nodded. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened again. Seeing her strange behavior, Lillian and Grey both fell silent.

Finally, Crystal heaved a sigh and poked at the burning logs with a long stick. "Remember when we first posted the video for our band? It was uploading and we were all watching the loading bar while holding our breaths? How it felt?"

"Don't get nostalgic on me old man," Grey muttered. Though his tone was teasing, there was an affectionate smile on his face.

Lillian nodded and smiled. "It was so exciting and terrifying at the same time. Maybe nothing would happen, maybe we'd be one of many bands that never got any traction. But maybe... Maybe we'd get lucky."

"It was kind of a relief too," Rayne added, gesturing with the skewer in her hand. "Like, we did it! We made our first song, and did our first video, and were gonna show it to the world. It felt really real right then. All our hard work."

"Yeah... And remember what I said?" When they all shook their heads, Crystal chuckled and poked the fire hard enough to send a flurried shower of sparks into the air. "I said it felt like a change was coming. For better or worse, something big was about to happen."

"Right, right! We'd either succeed in our dream or fail absolutely, with no in-between. That's what you said, yeah?" Grey sighed, patting his full stomach. "I remember. Man, that was heavy. I couldn't even sleep that night, you know?"

"Is it happening again?" Lillian asked, her voice even softer than usual. "That feeling?"

"Yeah. I've felt that way all day. I thought maybe it's cuz we never did anything as big as this, renting a house and doing a whole video shoot on location, that maybe I was worried about how ambitious our idea was, but..." Crystal bit her lip, poking the fire again. She made a point of avoiding their gazes, focusing on the burning embers and crackling logs. "I think if we stay here tonight, there's no going back."

Silence reigned for a few minutes. Then, quietly, Rayne whispered: "Are we in danger?"

"It's not like that. It's just... A massive change, that feels... Overwhelming. This is bigger than the previous time."

"Bigger than chasing our dream?"

"Yeah."

Rayne reached over to grab Crystal's hand, while Grey hopped up and sprawled across Lillian's lap despite her protests. He just laughed and said, "What's that matter? No matter what happens tonight, tomorrow, or whatever! We'll get through it together like we always have. You and me, sweethearts. Us against the world!"

Crystal smiled and gently squeezed Rayne's hand. "Yeah. We'll be fine, no matter what."

Once dinner was finished, the fire fully smothered and the leftovers packed away for later, everyone did rock-paper-scissors to determine order of bathtub usage. One by one, they soaked away their worries, changed into the pajamas they brought, and crawled into one of the master bedroom's beds.

As midnight ticked over, a single shaft of light from the full moon filtered through the room's lacy curtains, illuminating their peaceful faces. The sleeping occupants remained blissfully unaware of the tendrils of fog creeping along the ground, emerging from the forest to wrap the entire house in a dome of mist.

Several hours later, as the first rays of dawn burst from the horizon, they were finally awoken by a piercing scream.

#writing #chapter #original #original story #masquerade #fantasy #isekai

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marsaxlokkheritage · 4 years ago

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Our story

On Friday, April 5, 2019, I was invited to present a TV documentary about Marsaxlokk. This documentary was the beginning of a series of filming documentaries on Marsaxlokk that were broadcasted on Maltese Television (TVM2). I have to say it ended to be a really professional presentation where I presented all the research I had done in the last twenty years. Being the researcher and writer who constantly writes about the village I was born in, the thirteen programmes awaiting for the final touch of the editing, finally resulted with the production being launched. As a President of the new Association that bears the name of Marsaxlokk Heritage this came with an invitation to all the people interested in Marsaxlokk’s history. This evening was opened by the Minister of culture Onor. Owen Bonnici in a venue given as free event for the night. This was the opportunity to share with the locals what is needed to set up a cultural association. I wanted to express my experience. and share with the future readers of this Website my experience about the process and what is practically necessary for a person to set up a cultural association that protects the heritage of the village or town. where one lives in.

How to start a Non-Governmental Organisation?

The idea of thinking about a non-governmental organisation is not something by chance. Only thought can be ingrained in the mind of the individual and because he has a motivated character aimed at something in particular that he likes or believes in, he leads himself to give it great importance in his life. But that is only the beginning of a will to come and understand others who think like him, enough, where they ultimately form a committee with the same purpose and view. Many attempts are often made to give birth to an organisation and many disappointments and failures as well. I dare say that although one knows about the purpose and initiatives of the union, one must also keep up with the times and adapt to the use of information technology so as not to cut back where communication and dissemination of need is needed. Information on what the organization believes in.Thus the first step will be the appointment of a Committee.

Appointment of committee

In order to make a request to the Non-Governmental Organisations Authority, at the first meeting there must be a minimum of five people to form an administrative committee with the people being appointed to positions among them according to their abilities. This is also with the aim of continuing to work together and get their voluntary organisation approved by the authorities. Together they draw up a statute so that whoever joins the organisation later will have guidelines on what to do. An exercise that is often repeated even in the long run and with the aim of making everyone understand the main goals of embracing the same union. When the statute is completed and signed by the chairman and secretary of the new administrative committee there may be a discussion about agreeing on the appropriate name of the organisation if it has not already been planned. Money is collected from the cost of completing the application and the names of all those on the committee are entered in special forms. Other documents will be signed by the president and secretary only. Copies of the identity card are taken and a plan sketch is made, showing how the administration of the new organisation is distributed. So we move on to the first meeting.

First meeting

Another important topic that the first committee may discuss at that same first meeting, could be the preparation for recruiting new members in an activity and also for some fundraising format. The logo of the association and the format of letters to other politicians and organisation can also be discussed both locally and nationally or internationally. Then begins the process for an organisation to be officially recognised. Often the process for the organisation to be approved by the authorities can take about six to eight weeks. During this same period members will have the chance to plan a variety of ideas that can translate into progress as they are recognised. In this waiting interval it is also of great importance that each individual in the committee is determined and motivated enough to verbally encourage other people to think they can contribute to the same Society.

I would add that these same people should be encouraged and kept in touch so that while the whole committee is informed about them, they will also be invited to the next meeting - the one when the secretary or chair receives the a letter of approval from the authorities.

When one thinks carefully about something like this, one must also understand that the road is not at all easy and it must be the continual determination that leads to overcoming every obstacle especially so early. The committee must be united in thinking and focused on the agenda it draws up. The weeks go by quickly and if one has any idea that the likelihood of a response from the Office of the Commissioner for Voluntary organisation could easily be yes, then the plans can be considered in advance. Carefully the posts of officials merge together, at a time when goals and intentions are remote in order to build a solid foundation for the strong organisation to work in the common interest with all who believe in it. Even if it is not an easy start, it can still be overcome wisely and with clear goals. Only then will the way forward be happier.

As a founder of the NGO, the resigns of some members from the first tentative committee almost blew my mind, but my determination was to safeguard the interest of Marsaxlokk and everything about it. I kept looking for people, especially youths to join with the aim to continue this unique experience. Then when everything started to get in order with young new faces, the world started having issues with the Health pandemic Covid-19 which stopped our run in trying and look-out for member even though we continued to meet online and discuss other matters. The statue was adapted to keep the same administrative committee in office for 5 years and make sure we get on with our aims.

Marsaxlokk Heritage is a non-governmental Voluntary Association. Our beginning was like that, and now we have taken the road where we hope to continue for the good of the heritage inside our village. With the aim that together with other associations and the Local Council, we increase more knowledge, amongst them about the history of our village and all the heritage spread in the Marsaxlokk boundaries.

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