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emialawliet · 4 years ago

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The mysteries of Wonder Egg Priority and some interesting things I found in it

Oh hi Acca. Wait is that a crack on your right lens?

One of the great things about WEP is that it is an original anime wherein we do not have any source material to check on its story thus we do not have a clue on what’s gonna happen next besides the things that happen in each episode. These are one of those animes which are fun to observe.

Plot Summary: Ai scores a “Wonder Egg” from a gachapon machine at a deserted arcade. But now when Ai falls asleep a girl emerges from her Wonder Egg, the worlds of dreams and reality begin to collide. And it’s all connected.

From the first episode, we have been given a huge amount of symbolism. Aside from the main subject of bullying and Ai’s guilt by pretending not to see it that cost her bestfriend’s life, there are a lot of other things that I noticed that seem to have a deeper meaning behind them or could be a hint to something. I’ll list these things one by one from the first 2 episodes..

This post is going to be quite a long one, so I’ll keep it minimal enough to just tickle your thoughts. And believe me, things got clearer to me as I am making this post.

The anime starts in a sort of a dream world.. or is it?

1) The firefly

In some cultures firefly may not have a positive reputation. But in Japan, where they are called "hotaru," they are beloved – a metaphor for passionate love in poetry since Man'you-shu (the 8th century anthology). -Namiko Abe @ thoughtco.com

Ai can be seen looking at a dead firefly. She seems caring for it and she even gave it a proper burial. Could this symbolize someone dear to her? Now let’s proceed..

2) person in the car

Is this a clue? I’ll remember that hair for some reason..

3) Ai’s conversation with the firefly and the Special Gacha Machine

firefly: What are you doing in a place like this?

Ai: Walking.

F: This late at night?

After burying the firefly, it suddenly came out the soil and spoke to Ai with a male voice. Their conversation seems to me like a suspicious man talking to an innocent girl in a place where a young one like her isn’t supposed to be..

F: The first time’s free. Next time bring your wallet.

This is one of the things commonly used to convince someone to try something they are usually not willing to for the first time. Like a free trial..

..and was then led somewhere underground where the “Special Gacha Machine” is located.

That’s a lotta eggs. What could this underground facility be? And here’s the Gacha Machine:

So that’s the thing in the poster.

Weird huh? But the next morning, Ai wakes up with the egg beside her..

4) The dream

..Or is it not entirely a dream? I mean the egg appearing beside her is one thing although it could be that the egg is just in her mind. But the thing that complicates things is the injuries she gets in real life, to the point where she and even Neiru needs to get hospitalized.

Ai asked why this (the whole dream she’s in) is happening to her and this is what Kurumi said:

“Nothing costs more than a free gift huh?” Indeed, life is priceless. But in this story, it is only free the first time. The second night, Ai paid a huge price. Could those injuries mean this?

“This is a dream to you, but to me it is reality.” -Kurumi Saijo

Ai will not die in this dream, as long as her eyes and heart are okay.

Did she really sneak at night twice? Since getting the Wonder Egg to saving Kurumi? In this scene we also see the teacher in full for the first time and I dunno about you guys but I think that hair is familiar..

The firefly even asked her this. We’ve seen Ai sneaking out at night but the things that follow are strange enough to happen in real life. Is it possible that what we're seeing is a mixture of Ai’s imagination and reality?

Something caused these injuries. Or is it Ai herself? Let us find out..

After saving Kurumi, a mysterious male voice said “Too bad, you only get saved. But you have to cheer up if you want your bestfriend back.”

She then asked this:

..but got no clear response. Of course we know the answer, Koito is not going back to life. but why does the voice demand her to do that? Not even the firefly could answer her clearly. But she continued to believe that this will get her bestfriend back.

“If you can’t protect them, you won’t make it either.” -Firefly

“There’s no point going to save someone if she gets herself killed.” -Ura-Acca

Does they mean the guilt might kill her too? Does this imply suicide? Could this be a hint where Ai gets her injuries?

And Neiru asked her who she is fighting for.. Ai firmly said it was for Koito.

“You don’t like yourself now, so you go. You want to change the self you hate.” Well this could also be true for herself despite saying it’s for her sister whom she let die. How? We’ll soon know more about this I guess.. At the moment, we know that Neiru loves her current self.

Ai hates herself for betraying her bestfriend. The first friend she ever had.

Koito probably asked her to film the bullying as evidence, but Ai was too scared of being left out. She wasn’t able to get a good shot, but Koito only smiled at her and knew she did her best.

5) The egg

From the title itself, the egg is a very prominent object in this anime. We still do not have a clear answer as to what it really represents, but according to the speaking firefly and Kurumi, it contains what a person wants the most, and in Ai’s case, it is a friend. She denies this to both of them but they both know it is the truth.

The eggs appear in different colors, with letters, numbers and symbols printed on them. Once cracked, it reveals a person. This is where we can relate the egg’s symbolism of life and creation.

A mysterious male voice angrily told Ai to break the egg, and this is what he said afterwards:

Ai is “good” at it, huh. What could he probably mean I wonder..

It was later revealed that Kurumi is another sculpture, a “captured maiden” in a different world like Ai’s bestfriend Koito. This confirms that Kurumi is also dead, which leads me to think that the eggs are the souls of those who died from suicide or abuse.

They couldn’t pass on unless the guilt of their friends stop holding them back. And this I think is also what’s happening to our MC Ai and Koito’s soul.

6) Kurumi Saijo

She wears a different uniform than Ai’s. A victim of bullying by 3 girls.

Like Ai, she also said she did not have any friends, just superficial ones.

And this could be hinting at the reason why she was bullied by those girls. She does have the looks. But these looks might be the reason why she had no real friends. And a boyfriend of this fake friend probably liked her and broke up with her fake friend which started the bullying. I smell jealousy.

In this dream, she found her resolve while saving Kurumi.

I gotta say though, the animation is impressive from start to finish. That button popping off has me goin “whoa they even thought of adding that bit.” And the explosion that followed.. oof.

After being saved by Ai, she asked Ai to not forget her and disappeared into dust. Was Kurumi able to finally pass on?

) Minami Suzuhara

Seriously, in this anime, adorable girls have no friends.

Damn her “trauma” is a ridiculous boob monster.

She could have died due to over fatigue and stress from her coach’s verbal abuse.

Ai had another injury the following day.

) Ai’s enemies

The Seenoevils, a disorderly mob. In real life, they are the ones that pretend not to see the bullying, letting it happen and thus contribute to the damage being dealt to thee victim. And the form of the egg’s “traumas”, the Wonder Killer, which are the main cause who led the victims to their deaths. In the dream world, they do not attack Ai. But they can damage her, only for the effects to appear outside the dream.

Ai uses Kurumi’s pen as her first weapon, and Minami’s ribbon wand as the second.

Like Kurumi, after she was saved she also asked Ai to remember her before disappearing into dust.

) The teacher

Ai’s teacher seems really nice, going as far as to visit her and deliver the week’s print outs to their home. Ai must not be attending school for weeks..

We now know that Ai’s location is nearby their teacher’s home. Could he be the guy in the car then? We don’t have enough evidence of that as of yet.

In the second episode, Ai’s teacher visited again.

Now we see his face. He’s got a mole huh.

But why this question teach?

So that’s his name. And why the special treatment?

Here we see him walk behind Koito and she follows..

) Acca & Ura-Akka

The most intriguing thing I found in the first ep..

After discovering the truth about Kurumi, Ai was led to the end of the underground tunnel and found these two strange dolls playing Go, a japanese traditional board game. One looks like a professional, and the other just casual. They introduced themselves as Acca and Ura-Acca.

Judging by that definition, these two dolls could be the same person. Let’s watch out for that.. Who could this person be? And what is his connection to Ai?

“Haste makes waste.” These two are worried about Neiru. They strongly advise on taking the process slow or else she might die. Is this person a therapist?

) Neiru Aonuma

Did I read that right.. VICE PRESIDENT?? I get the feeling her sister died caused by neglect from their parents because they were more focused on this Neiru who “loves herself”. She also seems to me like a foreigner. She speaks english quite well and we see the mom with a nice cute afro.

She was too greedy to get multiple eggs at once. She could have fought through an intense battle. Probably why she was put in the intensive care unit.

She also does not know the fun of being in a friendship. But then she agrees on being friends with AI :) I am glad how Ai is starting to change too.

I am looking forward for these two’s friendship <3

And that’s about all the curious things I’ve gathered in the first 2 episodes.

I am definitely going to continue watching this series and witness the truth unfold. Until the next egg time!

#wonder egg priority

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tanyawritesstories · 4 years ago

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She Bites | Max Phillips x Siren!Reader

I came up with the strange idea of: what if Max was bitten by another creature? And siren was the natural answer for the reader's creature. I imagined their water form as basically the mermaids (sirens) from Pirates of the Caribbean. Enjoy my weirdness!

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: vampirism (duh), plenty of sexual innuendos, flirting, Max is a bit of a douche, insinuations of murder, blood, biting, fluff, Max and reader are unaware of each other's supernatural identities

•••

Your day at the office started slow but now it was picking up. You had just locked in your fourth sale, and began printing the finalization papers. You signed off on them and stood to walk them to your boss's office. On your way, you passed Andrew, looking the part of a hungover, underpaid college student, like he always did.

"Hey Y/N, you sure you don't want to come out tonight with us?" He asked.

"Um, no thank you, Andrew. I have something planned already," you responded politely.

"Aw, c'mon," he looked you up and down sleazily, "I can make it worth your while."

"Andrew, can't you tell the lady has important plans," the spritely voice from behind you made you tense and turn around. Your boss was standing there with a smug look on his handsome face. "She's been telling me how much she is looking forward to her date tonight."

You looked at the floor sheepishly and you could see Andrew shift awkwardly in place. "You're doing great on that presentation, buddy," Max assured the other man, "Now run along."

Andrew scurried back to his desk and Max leaned against the wall beside you, his arms crossed over his chest. "Are we still on for seven tonight?" He asked with a smirk.

You looked up at him and smiled, nodding. "Absolutely. You're picking me up at my place right?"

He nodded back. "Of course, sweet cheeks. Especially if there's a chance I can come inside after dinner."

You smirked back at him, your tone as flirty as his. "Play your cards right and maybe I'll let you."

He chuckled darkly. "Oh trust me, baby. I've never lost a game."

You took a step closer to him, booping his nose gently with your finger. "Then you should have nothing to worry about." At that, you tucked the papers for him into his crossed arms and walked back to your desk.

Of course you knew what kind of reputation Max Phillips carried. Who didn't. He was the type of person your sisters would call a man-slut. Arrogant, attractive, and brainless. Also the type you thought would make easy food.

Your clan had moved to the city only a few months ago, having come to the conclusion that there wasn't enough food in the ocean. You and several of your mer-sisters had taken to the land, tasked with feeding your family. It was getting increasingly more difficult for sirens to survive, especially out at sea. People didn't travel out on the ocean as much as they did a hundred years ago. Plus, now their boats were made of metal and a lot bigger. Even with super strength and the combined forces of the clan, they were hard to take down. Attacks usually ended with more than a few injuries and only a small reward.

Blending in with the humans was easy. Your tail turned to legs when on land and your slit eyes, fangs, and claws only came out when you attacked.

You had figured out a plan to be able to support the clan for hopefully a long time. If you were able to take control of this company, you could employ the rest of your clan to run the business and any new hires would be dinner. It was easy. Or so you thought. You hadn't exactly anticipated the charming and quick-witted sales manager standing in your way.

You had taken out a few minor employees already, none of them were missed and nothing was suspected. You had used your siren charm to hypnotize them into submitting resignation forms the day before you took them.

You were confused when Mike went missing before you could get him. You thought maybe one of your sisters had gotten to him first, but perhaps he just quit. It was frustrating to think you missed such a good potential meal, but alas you had work to do.

You knew you had to ultimately take down Ted, but Ted was wound around Max's finger. So your current target was Max. You played along with his douchey behavior, falling into the role of the shy, naive new girl that was easy to woo. It had worked thus far, getting you a date with your target victim. You planned on insinuating that you would sleep with him, get him back to your place, and then kill him. It would be easy.

You had managed to conjure up a final sale before you left for the day. You gave Max a wave and flirty wink as you walked by his office. You mouthed the words 'don't be late' before the elevator doors closed.

~~~~

Back at your apartment you had completed putting the finishing touches on your makeup. Minimal, since beauty came naturally to sirens. No matter how they looked, they were always beautiful and always praised for it.

You slipped on the sleek black dress. It was satin with thin straps and a slight V plunge in the middle, exposing a teasing amount of cleavage. You looked good enough to eat. You knew Max would think the same. You grabbed a light jacket and donned it to cover your top half. You heard the doorbell ring and looked at the clock on the wall. Five minutes early, typical punctuality. You grabbed a pair of black heels, quickly throwing them on and grabbing your purse.

You found Max with a surprisingly sincere smile on his face when you opened the door.

"Good evening, doll," he greeted, "Ready for our date?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," you replied cheerfully.

He was wearing a nice suit as usual, but he had foregone the tie and waistcoat. Instead having the first few buttons of his shirt undone. It was a very relaxed look for him, and, shockingly, you didn’t dislike it.

You walked to his car, once again surprised when he opened the door for you. You slid in and thanked him. The drive to the restaurant didn't take as long as you thought it would.

Max offered you his arm as you walked in together. You had made the reservation, not trusting him to do it. You let him pull out your chair for you as you removed your jacket. Max only noticed once he was sitting in his own chair across from you. You snatched the wine list and glanced over it. From the corner of your eye you could see him staring unashamedly at your chest where the dip exposed the tops of your breasts.

“Do you have a preference?” You asked. “Anything red is fine with me,” Max answered, his eyes didn’t leave your body even when he knew you were watching him. You scanned back over the list, picking out something simple. “You look stunning tonight.”

You looked up to find Max with a smirk on his face. Willing a blush to come to your cheeks, you looked down at your plate. “That’s kind of you, Max. But I’m afraid you’re a bit of a liar.” He pouted adorably, leaning his elbows on the table. “Nonsense. You’re the most beautiful woman in the office,” he complimented. He reached over and took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You knew that was rubbish. Everyone had a crush on either Amanda or Zabeth. If someone had a crush on you it was because of your siren charm, otherwise they hated you because you did your job and got praised for it.

You ordered your food and found it easy to make conversation with Max. He kept up the perfect attitude with snarky and flirty thrown in. You weren’t learning much about him but you were learning his traits. You didn’t expect him to be such a good listener. He hung onto every word you said and asked questions here and there. You almost felt bad for spinning him the entire fake backstory you had made up for yourself. You tried asking him questions but he only answered a few before turning the conversation back to you.

By the time dessert came you had almost run out of fake information and stories to tell him. This was getting tiring, you hadn’t expected him to act like this. Most men couldn’t shut up about themselves, but you hadn’t gotten hardly anything out of him. It was strange, for sure. Max offered to pay and you let him think he was doing you a favor. He stood first and grabbed your coat, helping slide it over your arms and back. His hands stayed on your shoulders and he whispered into your ear.

“So did I play well?” You smirked turning to face him, putting your hands on his chest. “You’ll see, later.”

He placed his hand on the small of your back and led you back out to his car. He drove with one hand, the other was draped over the center console. You figured it was time to answer his question now. You took his hand and rested it on your knee, keeping your eyes out the window. You could hear him turn his head briefly to look at you. You waited until his eyes were back on the road before sliding his hand up your leg a little bit, you let go and allowed him to decide what he wanted to do next.

He took the hint and slid his hand further up your leg, pushing your dress up in the process. He stopped on your inner thigh, slowly rubbing your warm skin. You knew what he was doing, he was teasing you, trying to make you beg. This time you weren’t going to pretend, he would wait until you got home and was inside your room. If you let him live that long.

You made it back home and invited Max in. “Make yourself comfortable, you want anything more to drink?”

You strolled to your drink cabinet, kicking your heels off on the way there, and pulled out scotch for yourself. “I’ll have what you’re having, sweet cheeks,” he said sitting down on your sofa.

You turned, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. You jumped when you felt his chest press into your back, his nose nuzzling into your neck. How did he get behind you so fast? You probably just didn’t hear him. It was unlikely with your acute senses but who knows.

“Can we skip the drinks?” He whispered huskily into your ear. You reached back and ran your fingers into his hair. “You’re eager, aren’t you?” You replied making sure your tone was as smooth as his.

"I'm hungry," he said, "and I wanna know what you taste like." He ended his sentence with a squeeze to your ass that actually made you gasp. He was good at dirty talk, you were almost starting to feel bad about having to kill such a fine specimen.

You turned around in his grasp and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. You expected him to try and heat it up right away, yet he surprised you once again. He took the kiss as slow and deep as you, keeping one hand on your ass, massaging it to his liking.

You broke away from his lips after a while of having them locked together, instead trailing kisses over his jaw. He took the break to place kisses and licks up and down your neck. You nuzzled your nose into the flesh of his neck, seeing the perfect moment open up.

You didn't hesitate.

Your pupils became slits, with your fingernails extending into sharp points and anchoring themselves into his suit coat. Your fangs descended into their proper places, now poised for harvesting. You barely registered the feeling of his teeth scraping along your skin before you bit down.

Your fangs pierced his skin with more resistance than you were expecting. However, that wasn’t the strangest thing to occur at that moment. You felt a sharp burning pain in your own neck, right where Max had been licking. Did he...he had just bitten you!

You retracted your fangs and shoved Max away, his teeth having unlodged from your skin. You glanced at your neck where two puncture holes were now steadily exuding blood.

"You fucking bit me!" You shouted.

Max recovered from your shove, his eyes tinged yellow, a smear of blood on his upper lip…and his own fangs.

"Why the hell do you taste like fish!" He yelled back.

You were beyond confused. "What? Doesn't matter, who the hell are you!" You grabbed a towel and quickly placed it over your bite wound.

"Me? Who are you!" He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, "Ugh, and why in fucks name does your blood taste salty."

"Usually when I bite people, they die, not complain about how my blood tastes," you grimaced.

"That's what happens when you bite a vampire, sugar tits," he deadpanned.

Your mouth dropped open. Well that explains a lot, but in addition, it made you angry. How were you supposed to take over the company now?

"I didn't know I had a fellow vamp working in my building," he smiled, "Though, that doesn't explain the fishy taste."

You rolled your eyes, heading towards your bedroom to find a bandage. "I'm not a vampire, I'm a siren. Did you honestly think vampires were the only supernatural beings walking this planet?"

Max followed not far behind you, intrigued by your revelation. "A siren, like a mermaid? Where's your tail?"

"I don't have a tail while I'm on land, and no, sirens are much deadlier than mermaids," you informed gruffly. Max appeared to be thinking over your words while he watched you tend to the two holes in your neck. He was unaffected by your bite, his skin having already healed itself.

"Why were you trying to kill me?" He suddenly inquired. You looked over to see him lying back on your bed. He had removed his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, comfortable as could be.

"Because my sister's and I need to eat and I don't like killing just anyone on the street," you answered.

"Are the rest of your sisters as hot as you?" He sat up as you crossed the room, watching your every move. You sneered at him, "I figured killing you was an easy way to take over the company, therefore providing my family with a steady food source, and ridding the world of one less asshole."

Max nodded along to your words. "Great idea, sugar plum, but half the office has already been turned. Tough luck," he mocked.

You swore under your breath, "Then there's no point in working for the company anymore. You can leave now."

No wonder it had been so easy to lure him in, he was playing you too. You both fell right into each other's traps.

Max rose from your bed. He walked to you and gave you a teasing smile, pinching your cheek like an affectionate grandparent. "Don't worry, fish lips. Maybe we can work something out," he winked at you.

You pulled away from him and glared as he swung his jacket over his shoulder. "See you at the office tomorrow!"

~~~~

Max hadn't noticed you came into his office as you entered the same time as Evan was leaving. The loud thud of papers landing harshly on his desk made him look up.

"My resignation form," you said, "since my purpose has been...worn out."

Max looked taken aback despite the fact that you told him you would be quitting last night. "Why is that a reason to leave?" He asked, leaning back in his chair.

"I literally just told you, and you know about me when my existence is supposed to be a secret so…" you trailed off.

Max looked to be thinking again, never a good sign. He took your papers off his desk and promptly threw them in the trash bin. "No."

You raised your eyebrows, "No?" He nodded, "No. You happen to be doing the best work here so I can't let you go."

You put your hands on your hips. The audacity of this man! "Huh, right ok. Then I'll just walk out and never come back and there's nothing you can do to stop me," you said firmly. You turned heading towards the door.

"I could tell."

You looked back at Max, who was now standing, hands in his pockets. "Excuse me?"

"I could tell. I could walk out and announce to everyone that you're part fish and all I'd have to do to prove it, is throw some salt water on you," he threatened. You realized as he talked that he was dead serious, and it scared you. "Yeah, I did my research on sirens, believe it or not. I know how you operate," his smile evil and teasing at the same time as he moved to the front of the desk and sat on the edge. "If you stay, your secret is safe with me."

"That's blackmail," you stated obviously.

"Pfft," Max rolled his eyes, "And? Does it look like I'm giving you much choice here, sweet cheeks? You stay with the company and I'll help you, it's a lot easier for me to obtain blood, and I can do it without killing them. I can help you."

You sighed in frustration. What choice did you have? You hated him for not giving you an alternative, but the company wasn't all bad and pay was decent.

"Fine." Was all you said before walking out and resuming your work.

~~~~

Max had stayed true to his word, you had been listening, and he hadn't even hinted that you might be a dangerous supernatural creature to anyone. Maybe he was due more credit than you gave him

You were currently sitting on your sofa, wearing comfortable leggings and a t-shirt, drinking a beer while watching a movie. You were interrupted by a knock on your door. When you answered it you didn't expect to see Max standing on the other side with a cooler in one hand. He was wearing a button up with a black leather jacket and jeans, it was the most casual you'd ever seen him and he still looked so good.

"I brought dinner," he said simply. He unzipped the cooler bag and showed you its contents; four large plastic bags filled halfway up with blood.

"Max!" You whisper yelled. You ignored his smile and pulled him inside by his arm, quickly closing the door. "You can't just show me that, wait till you're inside," you sighed, "Now what do you want?"

"These are for you," he said, "and your family of fishes." He set the cooler down on the counter and proceeded to take the bags of blood and arrange them nicely in your fridge.

"You got that for me?" You asked, skeptical of his sudden kindness. "Yes, I said I would help you, so I am." He grabbed a beer out of the fridge while he was in there and took your place on the sofa.

This man was making a habit out of shocking you. He noticed as you stood shell-shocked in the middle of the room. "Did you really think I wouldn't keep my word?"

You wanted to be mad at him, you desperately wanted to be mad.

"No, I didn't think you would. I thought you were joking," you admitted. You took a seat next to him and took another sip of your beer.

"You wound me, fish lips," he sassed. You sighed, trying to maintain your current mindset of not being mad at him. “Only one thing,” you looked at him, “Can I see your tail?”

Your eyes practically rolled on their own. “Aw, c’mon,” he pouted, “I brought dinner for your whole family and saved your job, it’s the least you could do.”

“You do know that when I’m in the water the tail is the only thing I’m wearing,” you said. You watched as Max’s lips slowly turned upwards into a smug smirk. “You dickhead, that’s exactly what you want!” You took a pillow from the sofa and chucked it at his head, heading towards your room to shut yourself in.

He burst into laughter and got up to follow you. You attempted to close the door in his face but he caught it. Even with all your strength thrown against it he was able to hold it open like it was nothing.

“No, I’m genuinely curious, sweetheart,” he said once he was able to stop laughing. You stopped fighting him once you heard him. He’d never called you sweetheart before, it was normally irritating nicknames.

“I’ll think about it,” you relented. He smiled. “I did bring some of that blood just for us. You want to have dinner with me again?”

For once you found yourself smiling along with Max Philips.

#pedro pascal #max phillips #max phillips x reader #Bloodsucking Bastards #vampires #sirens

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flyandfamousblackgirls · 5 years ago

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RASHIDA RENEÉ WANTS YOU TO KNOW YOUR HISTORY by Alexis Rene Moten (Culture Jock)

Let’s start this article with a quiz: Name a Black model from the 1990’s that isn’t Naomi Campbell or Tyra Banks?

Stumped? It’s safe to say that if the question were asked to name a White model that wasn’t Kate Moss or Cyndi Crawford, best case scenario you would’ve excelled with a list to provide. Maybe something like: Linda Evangelista, Claudia Schiffer, Christy Turlington, Shalom Harlow, Carla Bruni, Heidi Klum..you get my point.

At times, Pop Culture can be a fair-weather friend. Monday’s It-girl becomes Friday’s nobody and by Sunday there’s a new hot thing in town to get all the girls in a fuss. But as nostalgia-trends rises as capitalism’s newest enterprise, endorsed largely by social media app, Instagram, history is being retold by the agenda of it’s curator. The selective hearing of Instagram accounts like @90scelebvibes (391K followers) and @90sanxiety (793K followers) present a facade that the past was rather beige, leaving largely out the credit due to the Black and people of color creatives that developed and inspired the trends imitated today.

Bay area based, Fashion archivist Rashida Reneé, takes on self-love to a familial level celebrating her love and the appreciation of Black designers, models and other fashion industry influencers that otherwise go forgotten in our modern culture. In fashion, as in anything else, things old become anew. However, Reneé takes on the responsibility as a trend gatekeeper, providing evidence of what fashion used to be and recognizing the faces we longed forgotten.

Q: Name a Black model from the 1990’s that isn’t Naomi Campbell or Tyra Banks?

A: Beverly Peele, Gail O’Neill, Iman, Kara, Young, Karen Alexander, Louise Vyent, Roshumba, Veronica Webb, etc.

Culture Jock: What is a typical day for the most hated hoe in the city?

RR: (laughs) It’s weird, I kind of like to keep it to myself. Keep track of what I like and my thoughts. I don’t know. I'm very low-key person in real life, but when I do leave the house (pauses) I do, I promise! I just like my personal time, but when it’s time to be out I am present, as much as possible. I do what I do becauseII like giving information to people and give them links and information just so they know.

CJ: What brought you into fashion archiving?

RR: My whole archiving process was originally for myself and filling in spots of information where there it was empty of black people. Of course, there is street fashion, but in terms of online fashion, sites like Manrepeller, you didn’t see a lot of black girls doing it and the people doing it I thought were lame. Finding other black people who weren’t anti-black in those kind of spaces. I felt a lot of people were trying to make us to assimilate. Everyone was kind of like doing the same things and it was like, ‘Naomi Campbell!’ But if it were any other dark girl it didn’t matter. So, I started my own blog and then I had to stop myself from posting Naomi Campbell’s photos too. I would do one picture of Naomi Campbell a day and try to really give props to other black woman involved and black people in general. When I was younger I was familiar with the other models not just Naomi Campbell, my mom was really in it with Naomi. She worked in a beauty salon, which had magazines of all the models. Like, black hair magazines, they always listed the models so, no matter what you knew who they were. Whoever it was in the 90s, ‘this is who that is and this who that is.’ You’d see the oldest Destiny Child’s video shoots in black hair magazines. I just haven’t seen other people doing that. There are other girls now that focus more on Hip Hop in 90s and 2000s. Livejournal, fashion spot, Tumblr, people didn’t go out of their way to scan the black models or even try to name them. It’s funny, people online, they don’t even try to hide their biases. No one was really fashion blogging the way I like or how I see .

CJ:In your piece for Office Magazine you mention, from Patrick Kelley to today’s influence of Dapper Dan, American culture from its roots drips of Black influence and culture. Why do you think Black culture is so immutable and where do you see the ownership of our creations.

RR: People I mean know, it’s just like, it’s weird and odd to even talk about. Not just people referencing me or copying, I feel like I am being gaslit all the time or being told that. People love stealing from black people. People love stealing from black people. People love stealing from black people and lying about it. People hate black people but they think we are cool. I can’t even (pauses)yeah it’s very weird. The twitter thing is weird (sighs).

CJ: It is weird.

RR: (sighs) It’s not really helping them. It’s boring to live with no personality. To see someone interesting and steal from them to bolster themselves. [On social media] we have the means to share with each other, like, moments that are of shared experiences of oppression and that is even imitated. I don’t know why the copy of things are okay. It is such a multi-layered thing. Or the way the Stans talk like mainly the Black queer and Black trans talk and how all of that is now being used by everyone. Ariana Grande, ya know, icons talk like girls on the ballrooms did back in 2006. Parodying things. It helps them develop their own brand, I don’t understand their fascination with us anyway. I’m into my own shit and own culture. I like the way black people express themselves and other people use us and what we do to talk to each other or communicate and then take that to feel cool. I’ve always been,like, ‘why would someone want to be like this?’ or pretend. I don’t get it. People run out of content. I know people used to make fun of me and the things I used to be and ironically they are into it now. People need to find their own hobbies. They are bored.

CJ: The internet is complex. It’s a parody of itself.

RR: Knowing your history is important. You need to know where you came from to know where you are going. When it comes to fashion archives the question is, ‘what is it that you are looking for or trying to highlight?’ My concern is that fashion archiving is feeding into nostalgic trends, where it’s easier to mimic what was done before rather then create new moments. Do you share the same sentiments?

CJ: What is it about fashion that excites you?

RR: It’s so fun and so funny. The dolls are taking over. That’s how most things go, the things that happened come back with a hyper focus. It really is going full out now. It’s interesting to see how people are dressing now. [Fashion] is always reflective of the political climate. Think about the 80s everyone is dressing like a dickhead. Then when people got sick of dressing like a dickhead, minimalism comes in. We cycle through trends so fast, today. I remember a girl wearing a hair clips and no one was into it. Then the next week everyone was wearing them, then I see Cyndi Lauper in an interview wearing hair clips. She’s like 50-something and she’s wearing hair clips made out of Swarovski crystals. It’s so interesting. It’s funny how it happens. Now everyone is into fashion.

CJ: Who are your biggest fashion influences ?

RR: My biggest influences are Naomi Campbell and my mom. Girls I follow on the internet. My mom is from San Francisco lives her own life and is very eclectic. I get a lot from her and different taste. Foxy Brown is also very inspiring, I reference her a lot I think about her and Steven Miesel. Steven knows how to do everything. Steven can do everything. Everyone knows I am a crazy Beyoncé fan. But, I have different girls for different moods. My main inspo is Naomi and Foxy Brown. I really gravitated to Foxy because she was more into Prada and Chloe when Stella McCartney was there. Because of Foxy I love Chloe. She was very cool. Naomi is, you just aspire to that level of greatness. There is no one else. Even in her flaws she handles them so well. I can’t imagine someone else with that kind of rap sheet to not get fully canceled. I judge people by how they react to criticism. She handles it really well. I find that really inspiring.

CJ: What film or television do you think has the best fashion catalog? If you could what character's closet would you love to raid?

RR: I am so frazzled. There’s so much stuff I like. I write things down specifically, because I can never remember. I watched The Nanny last year with Fran Drescher, when I was really depressed and was like, ‘Wow this is inspiring.’ Brenda Cooper, her mind. Everyone had a look in. Pose, is another one. Everything has intentions from the main characters to the background characters. I really like the first season of costume design. It’s commitment to that era. Someone is always dressed like, Karen White or Jodi Whitley. Elektra is very dynasty, that high lady energy. I love that about the show. I love Glow, the costume designer, Beth Morgan. I love when people do era shows, specifically the 80s and they don’t try to soften it, especially in makeup or hair. They aren’t scared to embrace the ugliness, I love that. That’s what good costume design is about. High fashion is easy, but what really gets me is watching old movies and looking at the clothes.

CJ: We are moving into a new decade of 2020. I have a feeling it may be the year of 2020 vision and final clarity. What are your aspirations for this new era and what do you hope to see from the world?

RR: I feel like the children are our future. That’s what I’m looking at, to see what the kids are into. People are more focused into what they look like and I remember if someone dressed a little bit out of fashion it was a huge deal and get talked about. But now they are embracing their weirdness and experimenting. Do you watch that Tik Tok stuff? I just want a regular life. Happy, healthy, all my kids are happy and healthy. When I move to [Los Angeles] and get hotter, hotter and I want to become, what is that called, a wellness person? I want a Goop moment, but with Solange aesthetics. Maybe make a propaganda film to get people to stop wearing wigs.

#Rashida Reneé #Rashida Renee #Foxy Brown #Naomi Campbell #Beyoncé #Black fashion

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the--sad--hatter · 6 years ago

Text

Bloody Roses - Chapter Two (Bucky x reader)

FANDOM - MARVEL

WARNINGS - SOME BLOOD AND INJURIES, MENTIONS OF NUDITY

SUMMARY - What you thought was a trapped squirrel turned out to be a super soldier in need. It’s not every day an Avenger turns up in your garden, in serious need of help but you deal with it as best as you can.

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Winter Soldiers absence had strangely left something of a chasm in your chest, an aching void. You were somehow empty and heavier at the same time, carrying the heavy weight of what was missing with every step you took. Everything you did seemed to take longer and had much less reward. It was wholly unlike you to get attached to people, and it never happened this quickly.

People in general were like a loud buzzing in your head, they made your skin feel too tight and your heart beat a little too fast. It wasn’t full blown anxiety, more like a quiet discomfort. It was easily hidden, and usually you ignored it so you could persevere. It actually took you a few days to realise that Bucky hadn’t made you feel uncomfortable at all, he hadn’t triggered that stifled feeling.

There was a strange juxtaposition between your dislike of company and you human need for companionship, it’s why you befriended Othello. So while Bucky hadn’t been around for long, his absence was felt.

Over the next week, that aching chasm numbed though. You went about your day to day life, walking Othello, baking, gardening, painting… Whatever random artistic endeavour you wanted to try out and inevitably abandon in an attempt to keep yourself amused, keep your life going, keep yourself soldiering on instead of just festering away.

Today it was knitting, because you’d seen a youtube video about making blankets from giant wool with just your arms. That had ended spectacularly badly, thpugh Othello had fun. It had however, led to you deciding to try actual knitting, with actual needles and wool. When Othello started barking at the door, you were tangled up in a long strand of periwinkle blue and had resorted to cussing it out in the hope your foul language would free you. Doing a weird twisting move to get free you made your way to the door, pulling it open and peering out.

There were several boxes on the deck with a clipboard resting atop them. You pulled the door open to see John, the delivery guy pretending to be very interested in the bushes that lined the driveway. He did this every time, tried to be subtle about giving you space. You appreciated it, and made sure he knew it with the tip you always left. You signed for the delivery and picked a box up, pushing the others over the threshold with your foot.

As soon as you closed the front door you used your keys to cut through the tape and started unpacking the new books you’d ordered.

“What do you think, is there room in the upstairs hallway for these?” You asked Othello.

He barked and shook his fur out.

“Fair point, maybe by the window seat I keep meaning to build?” You suggested.

“Boof”

“I will so get it done! Right after I build that porch swing.” You gasped, thoroughly offended.

Ultimately, the books stayed in the box, at least for the time being and you went back to trying to *not* stab yourself with a knitting needle. After making the worlds thinnest scarf (“You have fur so I did this on purpose, I didn’t want you to overheat.”) you got frustrated and bored, giving in and curling up on the sofa with your laptop.

The cursor hovered over Microsoft word for a moment while you chewed your lip and tried to bring yourself to click on it but as was the norm lately, you went for Chrome instead. You had just enough dregs of energy to click on Facebook and assure the minimal amount of friends and family who pretended to care that you were in fact, still alive.

You were 100% convinced that the rumours that Facebooks advertising algorithm could read your mind were true because right there at the top of your feed was a news article. Apparently The Avengers had been caught up in another scrape. Before you could catch yourself you clicked on it, quickly scrolling through the article. It was remarkably vague but posturing, so the press didn’t know what The Avengers had actually been doing then. They did know that Earth’s Mightiest had won.

It was strange to thin that you had had one of them on this here couch, life in your hands. And like your thoughts had summoned him, there he was in HD. Pictures didn’t do him any justice. Yes, he was handsome in a photo but it couldn’t capture the tenor of his voice, the glint of light in his eye or the way that despite falling in a river and walking several miles in his own blood, he still smelled divinely sexy.

There was a minute, tiny, very high chance you had developed a lingering crush on the man out of time who had literally stumbled into your life. He was dark, tortured, charming, funny, gorgeous and strong, all strong ingredients in a crush. Most importantly, the strongest factor, guaranteed to make you fall… he was fleeting. He was a feather on the breeze, the rays of light at sunset, the crashing waves of a cerulean sea. Beautiful and gone too soon, leaving nothing but the awing memory of the beauty you had once bore witness to behind.

You ploughed through the article, breathing a sigh of relief when you read that eyewitnesses had seen The Soldier leaving the scene unharmed. You were relieved but… the aching void had returned.

You tried to distract yourself, knowing it was futile but going ahead with the attempt anyway. In the end, as predicted, your mind could not be coaxed off of the topic of the stormy eyed sergeant. You had a number you could call if you needed him but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t come up with a good enough reason to call.

You could call and say you were worried one of his enemies had tracked him here but that wasn’t close to true and you couldn’t bring yourself to worry him about it. If you had gotten the correct measure of him, and you were certain you had, he would immediately feel guilty and would panic. Truthfully, you doubted you would make that call even if there was truth to it. But that kind of left you at a loss as to reasons to seek him out again.

The truth was that even though you had a solid feeling in your gut that you shouldn’t let him leave your life, you had to let go.

Bucky Barnes had no place in your world, and you very much doubted he would want to be in it anyway.

So you went to bed that night, knowing you would be thinking about him as you fell asleep, knowing you would dream about him and knowing that he would never be more than that, a beautiful dream.

Othello pushed himself into the small of your back, letting you lean on him while you lay your head out on the pillow and closed your eyes, and remembered to press of Bucky Barnes lips so tantalizingly close to your own. It was the image that carried you off to dreamland, and that’s where you stayed until after the sun had risen over the horizon.

You knew that a specific sound had woken you, a loud buzzing sound, relentless and loud but for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out what it was. A lawnmower? But that begged the very important question… who the fuck was mowing your lawn? You groaned loudly and flopped onto your back, glaring up at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling as if they might be responsible. Eventually you sat up, flinging the duvet away and stomping over to the window to look outside.

Not a lawnmower, a Buzzsaw. Your unused, should be in the shed, Buzzsaw. Someone was slicing planks of wood in your garden and you actually recognized the pulled back brunette hair before you recognized the glinting metal arm. Your heart summersaulted in your chest and a kaleidoscope of butterflies burst to life in your stomach as you pushed out of the French doors and hung over the edge of the balcony. Othello saw you and barked happily, wagging his tail. Bucky switched the saw off and turned around to lean against the table, arms crossed and gazing up at you with a charming, cock-sure grin.

“Hey Romeo, whatcha doing?” You called down to him.

He chuckled and scratched Othello on top of the head before he answered.

“You never called sweetheart, and I still felt like I owed you. I remembered seeing a lot of books lying around when I was here so I decided to come and build you some bookshelves.” He explained.

“Uh huh. How’d my dog get out there? And how did you get into my shed?” You asked, trying to contain the giddy smile threatening to break across your face. `

“I picked the lock, didn’t want to wake you and this guy was scratching at the door. As for the shed, I wanted to see if you had any tools before I went to get the stuff I needed. Surprisingly, you had everything I needed, all brand new and unused?” He said, lilting at the end to signify he was curious about the state he’d found the shed in.

“I may have decided to take up woodworking a while ago. There were setbacks.” You admitted, ducking your head in embarrassment.

“What happened?” He asked in a teasing voice.

“I turned the saw on and it scared the hell out of me. That thing is dangerous!” You explained.

Bucky threw back his head and let out a full throated laugh, unrestrained in his amusement at your predicament.

“Not if you’re partially made of metal.” He said, still laughing.

“Saws can cut through metal!” You insisted.

He arched an eyebrow at you and reached behind himself to flick the saw on, before he turned around, holding his metal arm over the rotating circular blade.

“DON’T YOU DARE!” You shrieked, but it was too late.

His metal fingers came into contact with the saw and you thought you were going to be sick but to your absolute disbelief and wonder, the saw shuddered to a halt for a few seconds before he moved his hand away and flicked the switch again. He turned back around to see you hanging over the railing of the balcony, hand held to your heart and an expression between fear and fury on your face.

“Doll, my arms made of Vibranium. Nothing can cut through it.” He soothed.

“Next time, tell me that!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry.” He said quickly, but you could still see the smug amusement on his face.

“It is RUDE to break into someone’s house and give them a heart attack before they’ve even had coffee.” You half grumbled, half gasped as you righted yourself, glaring down at him.

Not that your glare lasted more than half a second before it melted into a fond smile. Something he definitely noticed because he perked up and beckoned you down.

“I figured out your ridiculous contraption and made a pot of coffee actually, I do have some manners.” He informed you.

You didn’t need telling twice and did your best roadrunner impression as you whooshed through the balcony doors and padded down to the kitchen, only just remembering to grab your nightrobe on the way. You shrugged it over your shoulders and tied the sash as you perused the cupboard for a suitable mug.

You liked collecting mugs, from ones with funny captions, to photo mugs, to your personal favourites… The Disney Collection. Today felt like a dopey the dwarf day and you fetched the giant cup from the correct cupboard and filled it with the steaming coffee, inhaling deeply to enjoy the smell. You heard the door open behind you, seconds before a cold wet snout was pressed the back of your knee.

“Morning traitor.” You said amicably to Othello, gently flicking his ear.

“Morning sweetheart.”

You turned around to greet Bucky, trying to shove down the voice in your head screaming at how right he looked stood in your kitchen, illuminated by the early morning sun and sipping coffee out of your oversized Grumpy Mug.

“Mornin Sarge. Top up?” You offered and he held the mug out for you to refill it for him.

It felt strangely domestic and natural considering he was a near stranger. Who had technically broken in…

“Do you have a pen?” he asked and you pulled open the knick knack drawer under the microwave and dug one out and tossing it to him.

“Actually it’s for you. I was wondering if you might sign something for me?” He asked sheepishly, pulling a book out of the back of his waistband and sliding it across the counter to you. When you saw the cover, your stomach dropped.

The Life Of Death.

“You looked into me.” You scoffed, shaking your head.

“I didn’t. Stark did, he gave me the book, didn’t tell me you wrote it until after I read it.” He defended himself.

“You read it?” You sighed.

“I did. It was beautiful. Really. The idea that Death fell in love with humanity, slowly becoming more and more human himself and when the gods found out they ripped the flesh from his bones, leaving nothing but the Grim reaper behind… but he never stopped loving humanity, shepherding them to the other side and asking them to tell him their stories, even when they feared him. It was tragic but there was still hope in it.” He said softly, and you could tell he meant it.

You could feel the weight of his gaze, the silent assurance that he’d gotten the hidden message in the book. Death didn’t let what had been done to him change who he was, he kept his curiosity and compassion intact, even when his body was ripped apart.

He was still holding the pen out to you and you sighed and took it, flipping the jacket of the book open and scribbling something, slamming it closed and handing the book back to him before he could see what you’d written.

“Why aren’t you more proud? You wrote a novel, a damn good one.” He questioned.

“All I ever wanted to do was write, to connect with people and give them some kind of hope. Didn’t work out the way I expected. I am proud, I am but… the books a reminder of my failings more than my achievements sometimes.” You said tiredly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He said.

His eyes were heavy with guilt, regret etched into the frown lines on his face.

“Don’t be sorry for trying to give me a compliment, it’s not your fault I’m not great at taking them.”

He looked you up and down, almost like he was sizing you up before the corner of his lip twitched minutely, drawing up into the flicker of an almost smirk.

“You’re beautiful.”

The breath you’d been in the process of inhaling froze in your lungs, suspended in your airway as the painfully raw, honest, heartfelt compliment passed his lips. Your shock lasted only a brief second because while you’d been telling the truth about not taking compliments well, you were a fucking master at reigning in your embarrassment and anxiety’s to regain the upper hand in a situation. Spitefulness could achieve what years of therapy could not.

“And you’re exquisitely stunning , Sarge.” You said back, equally as honest.

His eyes widened and his jaw loosened. He blinked at you, once, twice, three times and swallowed the lump in his throat before his brain kicked back in. A deep chuckle vibrated from his broad chest and it was a warm, soul soothing sound.

“I’ll build the shelves and repay my debt, should be done before lunch and then I’ll be out of your hair. Unless…” He started, looking at you with unabashed hope.

“Unless?”

“Well since I’m here and not afraid of the power tools, anything else you need built or fixed?” He offered.

You chewed your lip and thought it over.

“Do you want to help me build a porch swing?” You asked.

His whole face lit up, brighter than the sun and he smiled so wide and happily that you felt your heart crack a little.

“I’ll even make you lunch.” You quickly offered, knowing he was already going to say yes anyway.

“S’long as it’s not broth, you’ve got yourself a deal darlin.”

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A/N - Ok so... If you've read any of my other fics you may notice a slight difference in style with this one. That's because this fic is kind of more me than the others. I'm writing this one selfishly, it's very much my comfort fic. So I won’t be offended if you don’t wanna read this, it’s basically me living my ideal life with zero drama. I actually had to go back and edit because Bucky called the reader by name a few times. But it's such a fluffy, warm, drama free fic that I'm hoping it provides a little bit of comfort for someone else as well. It's a safe haven.

@likes-to-smell-books @thelostallycat @dilaila95 @dropthepizza346 @destiel-artemis @hiddles-rose @myfandomlife-blog @thosesexytexasboys @liveonce-sodoitright @spnrvt @tarastudiesalot @dahkness @sexyvixen7 @jaynnanadrews @littledeadrottinghood @pinkisokay @angieptt @anamcg317 @belladonnarey @queen-kayy92 @breezy1415 @penumbrawolfy @fairislesheets @lianadelphius @coolmassivenerd @youhavebeenspared @candyxcyanide @musingpredilection @isaxhorror @destiel-artemis @my-drowning-in-time @isabelcrichards @teh-nerdette @dlcita @deathofmissjackson @life-wanderer @cleo0107 @spicymagz @drdorkus @inquisitor-selvala @le-mow @zeannastardust @nighmxre @blue-cat-1989 @writingforbucky @abo4280ooof

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky series #bucky fic #the winter soldier x reader #The Winter Soldier

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fallingoverforcalum · 5 years ago

Text

Two Drunken Nights: Part 1

summary: when you find out Calum has cheated on you, you had kept it a secret that you’ve known until it comes up on a drunken night.

(y/n) = your name

warnings: Pretty long idk why i didn’t expect it to be.

please don’t steal this, thank you.

One month ago...

Calum and you were laying in bed watching cartoons with Duke laying right between you two.

“I’m gonna take a shower real quick” he said standing up pecking you on the lips.

Your eyes back to the tv as Duke had moved up the bed to Calum’s spot.

His phone had kept buzzing on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. It wasn’t like it was ringing. You knew you shouldn’t have looked at, but you couldn’t help it.

You had just assumed it was his and the guys’ group chat. But it was just Luke. You unlocked it to see what he was freaking out.

“You have to tell her, it was a mistake she’ll understand”

“You can’t hide it forever”

“When are you going to tell her”

“It needs to be soon”

You panically continued to the rest of the messages, every other one seemed the same

You went out of their messages and found the list of people he had been texting. You scrolled and found an unfamiliar name.

You tapped into their messages, scrolling all the way up to the beginning.

“I want to see you again”

The girl had said.

“I miss your touchhhhhh”

“come over?”

They went on for weeks. He had only responded to a few. You could hear your heart breaking in your chest.

You heard the shower turn off, then quickly turned off his phone and set it back on his nightstand, and got snuggled back into the covers and had your eyes glued back to the tv.

Calum has gotten dressed, and slid back into the bed. You had been laying with your back to him hoping he wouldn’t ask you what’s wrong or try to look at you or get you to look at him. You were on the verge of tears not knowing what to do.

Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly feel him drape his arm over you and pull you closer to him. You panicked. It didn’t feel right. You didn’t feel okay. You sat up quickly, he gave you a puzzled look trying to figure out what was going through your head. You bounced in your head trying to think of something to say.

‘Think, think, think, think, something. please!’ you basically shouted in you head.

“Uhm... I-I I’m going to go make a snack downstairs, you want anything?” You asked, finally saying the first thing that popped in your head.

He still was giving you this confused look. “uh no I’m good, thanks” he stammered.

You quickly got the covers off, and walked out the room shutting the door behind you.

Sprinting down the stairs you felt your face get hot and tears stream down your face.

You sat on the kitchen floor sobbing, as quietly as you could.

20 minutes later...

Still sobbing on the floor unable to think of what to do, or how to approach him, or the situation.

“Hey doll?” He called from up the stairs.

Shit. Did he hear you? Is he coming down here?

“Yeah?” You called back up.

“Everything alright?” He questioned.

“Yup, all good I’ll be up in a couple of minutes just cleaning up” You answered.

You then heard him walk back into your shared bedroom closing the door.

You sighed in relief he didn’t come down. You loved him so much. You just didn’t know how to talk to him about it. You invaded his privacy by looking through his phone, but he obviously did worse. You still didn’t know how to bring it up. You never liked fighting with him, but with something like this, it was impossible not to fight. You’ve always thought Calum was your forever, you still thought that. But you had doubts if he thought you were his forever. He hadn’t been acting off or distant. Was he not ashamed? Did he enjoy his night? or maybe nights with her?

You went to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth with cold water dabbing your face with it. Trying to get the red out from your face.

Once your face wasn’t a red, tear stained mess you went back upstairs. Calum was laying in bed, his eyes had been glued to the tv until you walked in.

“Where’s your snack?”

Shit.

“uhm” Think think think “I already had it, I just ate downstairs” you blurted as you sat down on the bed.

“oh. why didn’t you eat up here?” He questioned.

“I didn’t want to get anything in the bed” you lied.

You got under the covers and tried to fall asleep. You felt Calum get up and turn off the light, and then felt him again crawl back into bed and cuddle you. But this time you let him, not because you forgave him, but because you knew you wouldn’t be able to come up with another excuse.

Present....

After a month of knowing you became distant, not too distant for him to bring it up.

“I’m gonna go out with (Y/F/N)” you said about to walk into the bathroom.

You needed advice but you also needed to forget about the whole month.

“Oh. okay... do you need a ride there or home or anything?” He asked in sort of an upset tone.

“Um maybe a ride home, (Y/F/N) is gonna pick me up from here” You said.

An hour later....

You were all ready, wearing a tight black dress with gold stars plastered on it. And just a simple pair of black doc Martins. Your hair just down as usual. And your makeup minimal but with pops of color in your eyeshadow and on your lips.

You walked out of the bathroom giving calum a peck on his cheek and mumbling a goodbye.

You hadn’t kissed him on the lips since you found out. Just forehead, cheek and temple kisses. And all the times he had tried to kiss you on the mouth you pretended you didn’t notice or hugged him, just something to dodge it.

After a long night of drinkin... crying and more drinking....

Calum’s POV

(Y/N) has been acting weird, but i had just thought she was in a weird place and she’d get through it because she always does but it’s been a month. She went out with her friends, I hope they make sure she gets out of this weird spot.

It was 1 am and (Y/N) still wasn’t home, at this point i just waited for a phone call.

2 am

My phone started buzzing. I quickly pick it up.

“hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii” she slurred and dragged out when i picked up.

“hey doll” I said, putting on a t-shirt and some slippers.

“I’ve always lovedddd that nicknameeee bubba” she said into the phone like a giddy teenage girl. I smiled when I heard the pet name ‘bubba’ she hadn’t called me that in so long.

“you need me to pick you up?” I questioned, knowing the answer.

“yesss ppleasee babyy” she slurred into the phone.

“I’m on my way, my love” I told her.

Even though she was drunk I still loved what she was saying through the phone, I missed it. I loved (Y/N) still do. She had seemed off and i was 90% sure she was gonna break up with me soon. I felt guilty about cheating on her when me and the boys were away. But I was drunk. And I know I would never ever do it again. I made a mistake. And I wouldn’t make it ever again, not even if I was drunk, high, or anything like that. Lost in my own thoughts I had pulled up to the bar (Y/N) was at.

As Im about to go inside and get her I see her running out like a toddler then waving to her friends goodbye and saying “my uber is here, byeeee!”. I laughed.

She got into the backseat and said “helllloooooo”. Shit, did she really think I was her uber? Is she that hammered?

“Hey baby” I said looking in the backseat trying to look at her to let her know it’s me, and not some random uber guy.

She smelt like vodka, and nothing else.

“I have a boyfriend” she slurred turning off her phone as I started driving.

“wellllll” starting again.

“well what?” I questioned, my heart picking up.

“He cheated on me and ever since I found out.... things just hadn’t been the same” she said in a fussy drunk tone.

My eyes widened. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. I was panicking.

“How did you find out he cheated” I questioned, trying to get more information and how she felt.

“I looked through his phone, which I knew wasn’t right but i still did it, but maybe it was a good thing that i did.” she started to ramble, she did this often when she was drunk and upset.

“When did you find out” I asked knowing she was starting to either sober up, which is doubtful to how drunk she is. Or fall asleep. probably fall asleep.

“about a month ago.” she said, almost sounding sober.

A month ago?! She has known for a month?!

I had pulled up to our home we had bought about a year ago together. I helped her get out of the car and into the house.

I sat her down on the couch. “I’m gonna get you some water, okay?” I said getting up walking to the kitchen.

Bringing it to her, I helped her sit up and drink. She was wrecked, her makeup smudged, hair a mess. Only smelling like vodka.

I carried her upstairs. “Let’s get you changed, okay doll?” She blushed kissing me on the cheek. I kissed her on the lips, feeling that this would be the last time i’d be able to kiss her.

We continued upstairs, I set her gently down on the bed. I went to the bathroom getting make up wipes and bringing them back to her. “Here take off your makeup” I said setting them next to her “I don’t want to” she said tossing and turning like a fussy toddler. I take a wipe out, gently wiping her face.

I wanted to sob. What if this is the last time i get to touch or kiss, or pick her up from nights like thi, forever. I don’t want to lose her. She’s my forever. I don’t want one mistake ruining that.

I grab something for her to sleep in from the dresser. I grabbed one of my t- shirts and my pair of sweatpants and helped her change into it.

She slid into bed and I followed. I held her and she held me back. I cried into her shoulder without making a sound. I’d hate to lose her.

In the morning I’ll bring it up. And hopefully we talk through it.

#5sos #calum hood #calum hood imagines #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagines #ashton irwin #ashton irwin imagines #michael clifford #michael clifford imagines #imagines #calum hood fanfiction #fanfic #luke hemmings fanfiction #ashton irwin fanfiction #michael clifford fanfic

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scifimagpie · 5 years ago

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The Art of Destruction: Distressed Aesthetics

A belated happy new year, my dear followers!

So, I have a neat idea for a new series coming up. But after the holidays (which were pleasantly busy) and some interpersonal scuffling in January (which was not nearly as lovely, but came to an all-right enough resolution), my idea bank was absolutely flat broke.

A nice chat with friends has filled the bowl up, but while I work on those posts, here is something I stashed off to the side after a Facebook conversation last year.

I often reference fashion and clothing to help get in the right mindset for my writing projects. Whilst working on Poe's Outlaws (Book 4 of The Meaning Wars series; book 3, The Meaning Wars, is ready for beta-reading and edits now!) I indulged in my usual technique of sifting through Dolls Kill and Pinterest to look at various bits of outre, fun, futuristic fashion. Of course, when working on Monsters and Fools and planning for After the Garden's sequels, I also like to look at post-apocalyptic and distressed clothing. I like distressed clothing anyway, but it tends to get a lot of flack. =

On an episode of a podcast called Minion Death Cult, the hosts discussed some common reactions of tradespeople and Boomers to distressed and some faux-muddy jeans. (Not unsurprisingly, there were a lot of tired jokes about just selling people old, worn-out jeans from "real" tradesmen.) But not a lot of people understand how distressed clothing works, or why it's somehow different from their dad's old, grimy jeans and tattered denim jacket, so I'm going to break it down.

Note: all images in this article came from the Nordstrom website. Most or all are designed by PRPS.

I'm gonna take the unusual stance here of defending distressed jeans, because I've been studying and making distressed knit clothing and other types of distressed clothing for a bit. Why? Because I like post-apocalyptic fashion, and I think wrecked things are often beautiful.

You may be familiar with the term "wabi-sabi," which sometimes passes in and out of vogue for decorating trends. The term is comprised of two Japanese words - wabi, in a nutshell, refers to the beauty of simplicity; sabi, to the beauty of age and use. There's a bit more to it, but that's the quick explanation of these beautiful and imperfectly translatable terms. Wabi-sabi is usually used in reference to home decor, but it totally applies to clothing, too.

Anyway, getting on with the point - the thing about dirty jeans is that they're gonna leave dirt on wherever you sit. Fake dirt still captures the same look, the rather beautiful way the brown stains and fades into the tightly woven blue threads, but it won't leave big ol' scuffmarks on your leather car seats.

As for the distressing, the interesting and beautiful way that denim falls apart tends to happen in less sexy areas - the knees, the thighs, the crotch. Distressing clothes on purpose lets you get the look without impairing the wearability and structural integrity of the clothes. Sometimes that doesn't work at all, like with the cheaper distressed jeans that are all holes and have a high spandex content, but that's still the idea.

As far as how this relates to designing and making clothing, with knitwear (such as the awesome punk sweaters we all may love, or at least have seen before), it's important to know how the particular fibres and yarns work structurally. There's a reason why clothing made to be or look distressed looks so awesome and a lot of actually busted up clothing or "home-made" distressed stuff looks crappy. Knowing where and how to cut fabric in pre-made knits, how to style the runs, or how to make patterns with the runs and holes, is all very calculated. As I've learned myself, if you try to distress a finely-knit sweater, it'll look like crap; distressing needs a chunkier, thicker yarn to be really noticeable. And wet-blocking a ravelled sweater (stretching while wet) is very important - otherwise, the threads maintain their curled appearance, and don't become those straight lines that create contrast with the curving knitted stitches. It's also really important to actually tie off runs in a distressed sweater, or the whole thing will, in fact, unravel.

The advantage of knitting a sweater with a distressed look is that you can control this process. In effect, dropped stitches and yarn-overs create a sort of freeform lace look, and don't destroy the structural integrity of the sweater (which unravelling a pre-made sweater CAN do).

So basically there IS a method to the madness in pre-distressed clothing, and knowing how to distress your clothing well and safely - whether it's for a stage production, Halloween, or fashion - takes more than sharp scissors and boredom!

Predictably, clothes like this inspire retorts like, "I could give you my old jeans covered in cow manure and farm dirt and motor oil for that price!" But that's the point - the "fake dirt" that so baffled the Washington Post and CNN, where reporters appeared unfamiliar with the concept of "p a i n t", will not rub off or dirty other surfaces. The pants don't contain the scent and sweat of another person's work, nor are they worn out and about to fall apart, as those pants probably are. (For example, the wear patterns and distressing and whiskering all appear on the thighs and calves of the jeans, rather than in the crotch, around the bottom cuffs, and etcetera.)

It's not about pretending you work - it's about exploring the beauty of entropy and things that are lived-in. The way fabric dye fades, the soft whiskering of denim fabric, the delicate feathers of raw-edged cotton - all of these have their own beauty. Repairs can create a contrast from the original fabric or material as well, and it needn't be ugly. People familiar with "that weird gold thing," kintsuogi, may also know have seen it in cases where useful objects are repaired and the cracks are patched with gold leaf to highlight their beauty.

Here's another example of finding beauty in marks and unexpected places. When I saw an advertisement for Canada Post that featured a very intriguing necklace, I tracked down the artist's work and had a look at her site.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BUkgqx4hXdu/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

View this post on Instagram

#fbf to my 30 seconds of fame 😛 I custom made this piece especially for the #canadapost commercial. It took every spare second I had for a month....... and it will be on-screen for a second at a time for three years 😪 💰#lianevazbespoke

A post shared by Toronto Goldsmith (@lianevazdesigns) on May 26, 2017 at 2:22pm PDT

However, to my surprise, most of her jewelry was either minimalist and geometric, or covered in dented and scratched textures, like this!

https://www.instagram.com/p/Bw10Dy7AWYp/

View this post on Instagram

HEX textured pendant in 18k gold on a vintage chain ✨

A post shared by Toronto Goldsmith (@lianevazdesigns) on Apr 29, 2019 at 6:17am PDT

Or, like this!

There is real value in appreciating things as we wear them out. If we are to shift to a less consumption-driven culture, which is necessary in the fight against climate change, we're gonna have to get used to not having things that look new all the time. Supplies and availability of items may be restricted. Repairing clothing and items instead of just throwing them out has also become pretty popular amongst Generation Z, many of whom are embracing thrifting and minimal-waste lifestyles.

But in addition to that, there's also a beauty in the broken or fraying, the imperfect, the less-than-new. Most of the time we spend with an item will be active. Jewelry gets scratches. Clothes rip. Colours fade. Paper tears. And all of those things expose new beauties and different aspects of the item, revealing its structure and design and suggesting or reminding us of experiences we've had.

After all, our possessions act as anchors for memories. There's a reason why in pre-industrial times, treasured items were passed down through generations or repaired over and over. Our things aren't just pretty diversions or useful parts of daily life - they're parts of our lives, woven or tangled with our memories.

***

Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer and editor. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime and Max the cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and learning too much. She is currently working on other people’s manuscripts, the next books in her series, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible.

Find her all over the internet: * OG Blog * Mailing list * Magpie Editing * Amazon * Medium * Twitter * Instagram * Facebook * Tumblr * Paypal.me * Ko-fi

#wabi sabi #distressed #DIY #knitting #fashion #sci fi #post apoc rp #apoc #cosplay #futurism #clothing #apocalypse #post apocalyptic #grunge #punk

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indieharry · 6 years ago

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Mark Your Territory

Or: The Very Soft and Cute Beginnings of Hantoni Porowski-Styles

i literally??? could not??? have done this without paloma @kissyharriex she’s the best and came to my rescue when i was being a big baby about this. also y’all know i post like zero (0) writing on here so uhhh enjoy and if you hate it then lie to me and say you love it ok thanks!

It’s like when you come home from a long trip. The smells are familiar, and you know where every light switch is, even in the dark. Your shoulders automatically slump in relief, and you feel the floating warmth of comfort wash over you.

That’s what it felt like the first time Harry saw him.

It was in a bright bar with arcade games and a 90s karaoke machine in the corner. Harry felt like he was back at university in London when he was forced out to grody pubs with uncomfortable seating and cheap liquor. Nevertheless, he wasn’t one to turn down an open bar or the opportunity to toy with a few men who either knew who he was or wished they knew.

He was always being invited to these sorts of things. Owners and promoters figured it was free press to have people like Harry at their events. He was the prince of Williamsburg, a trust fund baby who made a career out of fortnight romances and weekend getaways across the world. Everyone knew who he was, and he knew everyone.

Except for one person.

Harry’s brain short circuited when he glanced at the door that had opened to let a chill air into the room. A man with deep, tender eyes and a nervous mouth stood in front of the entrance. And before Harry even knew his name, he already knew what he wanted from him.

Harry was brave. He never shied away from a challenge or raised a white flag in the face of defeat. All his conquests had been a result of Harry’s charm and determination.

He came, he saw, and he conquered. That’s just what it was like for him.

He took a sip of his drink and brushed the man’s shoulder with his own. He turned, looking at Harry with those deep brown eyes of his, a little too warm and inviting for Harry’s liking. He just smirked while sliding up to the barstool next to him. He pretended to pay no attention, chatting to some of the other guests around him, causally sneaking a glance to the other side to see if he was looking.

“I’m Antoni,”

The man had said while sticking his hand out for Harry to shake. Harry glanced at him, raising his eyebrow.

“Harry,” he said, holding out his hand as well, but barely lasting for a proper shake. He quickly returned back to his conversation with some self proclaimed influencer from Los Angeles.

Soon enough, there was no one, so Harry turned back towards the man, Antoni, and asked the bartender for another drink.

“Do you reckon I can pull this off?” He asked, tugging at the bright red turtleneck he had worn.

Antoni just replied with a “sure,” so Harry sighed loudly and said, “It’s the color of my aura.” Not for anyone in particular to hear really, just whoever cared enough to listen.

He leaned in, closing the distance between himself and Antoni’s stool.

“I believe that,” Antoni replied, taking his drink, and walking away to talk to what seemed like an old friend.

It turned out Antoni was well-known among the invitees of this bar opening. The owner was Antoni’s former classmate in Montreal.

Harry, typically the life of the party within most scenes in Brooklyn, pouted his way through four vodka Sprites before scanning the room to find Antoni again. He made a path in his brain before sliding off the stool and sauntering over to the other side of the small bar, wriggling his way into the tiny circle of people crowded around the karaoke machine.

“Excuse me, I’ve got something very important to do,” Harry said, to no one in particular again, but completely meaning for Antoni to hear. He turned around to face the rest of the people in the bar, refraining from making eye contact with anyone but the man in front of him. Maybe it was his earnest gaze or the way he looked at Harry like he wasn’t afraid of him. Whatever it was, Harry knew that he’d do anything to be on the receiving end of Antoni’s affections.

Harry crouched down to click through the songs before he found the one he was hoping for. The song that never failed to get him laid. His conquests were putty in his hands when he slinked around them, the charisma vibrating off of him too infectious for them to resist.

The synth music and empty bits where Whitney Houston’s riffs usually went played through the speakers and Harry shook off what little nerves he had before taking a sultry stance and following the words to “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” all while trying his damndest to make his dreamiest bedroom eyes at Antoni.

Antoni’s notice was genuine but minimal, even when Harry hammed it up and began grabbing other men from the crowd to participate in his one man show.

“Hey, you,” he called, breathless, after the end of his performance. Antoni looked away from the person he was talking to and raised his eyebrows at Harry with inquiry.

“Could you be a doll and get me another drink?” Harry asked, grabbing Antoni’s wrist gently.

“What are you drinking?”

“Whatever you want me to drink,” he replied, winking and turning around to choose another song.

Antoni came back with some dark concoction that Harry was determined to drink because not only would it get him drunk, it would also show Antoni he was agreeable and easygoing. He choked down the first one fast before batting his eyelashes and asking for another. He didn’t dare ask what was in it, but rather could only focus on how the drink was catching up with him. His head was spinning, and normally this was when he would start to feel extra courageous and boldly make his move. But his stomach churned in the bad way.

Antoni had disappeared, and Harry was stood against a wall, nervously scrolling through his phone. It was a weird sensation, not having an entourage or acquaintance to fall into. Why had he come in the first place? It certainly had never bothered him before to go to places alone. Why was he bothered now? Regardless, he was flustered to no end that he was pulling out all the stops for Antoni and it wasn’t working.

Moving in all sorts of contortions while taking a seat again at the bar, his face melted into his palm.

“Hello!” He called over to one of the bartenders, rather loudly. “Hello. Hi. Got a question for you. Could you perhaps tell me what’s in this? My...friend brought it to me.”

The bartender eyed him warily. “It’s a long island iced tea...would you like some water?”

Harry sighed, burying his face in his hands. “No thanks,” he slurred.

“What do you think about this shirt, mate?” He stared down at his red turtleneck, frowning at the bits of liquid that had fallen onto it from previous drinks. “Can I pull it off?”

The bartender snickered at his question, and Harry furrowed his face. “Oi!” He started, his index finger raised in protest. The sudden movement caused his ears to start ringing and his vision to blur a bit.

“I don’t…” he started before he climbed off the stool and ran towards the front door, turning a sharp corner once he was out, to a small, dark alley. He ignored the group of people next to him, barely caring that the next time he was out and about, someone would incessantly tease him about throwing up at some random bar opening.

He hadn’t thrown up like that since uni, and on top of it all, it just had to be when he was wearing that goddamned red turtleneck. He quite liked it, thought it was a bit of a bold statement piece.

He shut his eyes, once he thought was s done spilling his guts, and slid down the brick wall, feeling like he wanted to cry a bit.

He heard an oddly familiar voice, getting closer to him and he didn’t really want to open his eyes because he knew that once he did, there’s no way that he would ever look at him in the eyes again.

He tried to ignore it, but he knew he had that gorgeous man standing in front of him, asking him if he was okay. And frankly he wasn’t, but he couldn’t help but blink them open.

“Want some water?” Antoni asked, handing him a bottle and looking at him like he had just witnessed a puppy being kicked.

Sipping the water made Harry’s stomach feel all icky again and in no time, he was throwing up again, this time on Antoni’s leather shoes.

In that moment, he wished the cracked pavement he was sitting on would open up and swallow him.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry,” Harry said, immediately trying to stand up all frantic and not knowing what to do.

“It’s okay,” Antoni waved his hands in objection. Harry recognized the look on his face - polite aversion.

“Let me go get a rag or something to clean them with. Do you want to wear mine? Shit, I’m sorry. What shoe size-”

“Harry,” Antoni put his hands on his shoulders to steady him. “Calm down. You’re gonna make yourself sick all over again.”

“But you can’t just walk around with vom all over your shoes.”

“They’ll be okay,” He said in a hushed voice. He slid down the wall, just as Harry had earlier and sat next to him.

“I’m mortified,” Harry whispered.

“If I had a dollar for every time I threw up outside of a bar I’d be a millionaire.”

“I bet you haven’t thrown up on the shoes of someone you’ve been trying to flirt with the whole night,” Harry sighed with a sad laugh hidden in the back of his throat.

They made eye contact for a millisecond, and the look in Antoni’s eyes confirmed everything he had been thinking about all night. Antoni wasn’t going to be a quick shag or a two-week lover’s parade around the city. Harry couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him, but the thought alone was terrifying.

“God,” Harry changed the subject, “who would’ve thought that a fucking Long Island iced tea could’ve killed me?”

Antoni laughed and looked down at his lap, “It just so happens that I’ve got the perfect remedy for too many of those,” he grinned.

“Do you now?” Harry raised his eyebrows at him.

“I do actually,” He started, “I could show you if you’d like, I only live a couple of blocks away from here.”

“How can I be sure you’re not going to kill me and stuff me in a dumpster?” Harry asked, only half-joking. This was too good to be real.

“Google me,” Antoni replied. “You’ll find too much about me to know I’m not a murderer.”

Harry pulled out his phone and did a quick search to find his Instagram, with 2.5 million followers, and a well-populated Wikipedia article.

“Self-assured, are we?” Harry asked, looking up from the screen to see Antoni staring at him eagerly.

A part of Harry wanted to say that he couldn’t -- the embarrassment alone had bruised his ego too deeply. But this is what he had been trying to do all night, right? Get Antoni to be all his?

So he nodded and smiled, taking the hand Antoni offered to get up. “As long as I don’t end up in a bin somewhere,” he murmured in jest.

They ended up in an uber -- Harry’s head was pounding and he didn’t think he’d survive a walk to Antoni’s apartment in his “sensitive condition” as he put it. Harry had experienced his share of awkward cab rides, but he was so nervous he swore Antoni could hear his heart thumping from across the seat.

“I’m really sorry about your shoes,” he started.

“Harry - please stop apologizing.”

“Sor-” he started, but stopped himself. Antoni just smiled and shook his head.

They made it to Antoni’s apartment without much talking, just Antoni commenting on what a shame getting puke on that red turtle neck was. “It’s quite the statement piece,” he told Harry. It was all Harry could do not to puke all over again, but not from the liquor.

Antoni’s place was as airy as a small New York City apartment could be -- plants nestled in the corners and vintage French posters on the walls. Harry scanned the den and his eyes landed on a small bookshelf lined with vinyl records. Harry’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he saw the pieces in the collection.

“Are you joking?” Harry gawked.

Antoni explained to him that most of the collection had been given to him by his grandfather, who brought them with him after migrating from Poland.

“I didn’t even know half these albums came in vinyl,” he ran his fingers through them, stopping at an Amy Winehouse record that was frayed at the edges and looked like it was constantly played. “May I?”

“Of course. Great choice,” Antoni said from behind him, already with a kitchen towel on his shoulder.

Harry just hummed to that and shut his eyes for the first few spins before turning around and sitting on a stool facing Antoni.

He wasn’t wearing his leather jacket anymore and the thin material of his shirt showed off his back muscles, which Harry had a difficult time ignoring as he moved swiftly around his kitchen.

Harry watched over the island, trying to reconcile the night in his mind. He had messily tried to get with a really hot guy, to seemingly no avail, which rarely ever happened. Then he got wasted and as a result, threw up on said hot guy but somehow still ended up at his place. He knew the formula, but the pieces weren’t fitting together quite right.

The smells began to float around the room and after a few moments, Antoni was plating the most delicate grilled cheese and sliding it in front of him. “Muenster and gouda. Mayo instead of butter. A little bit of garlic powder,” Antoni explained simply before placing a cloth napkin and a bottle of coconut water in front of him as well.

“Wow...five star service here,” Harry chuckled. Maybe he should barf on guys more often.

Antoni shrugged sheepishly in response, then leaned on the island

“Harry…if you knew the drink I gave you would make you sick, why did you drink it?”

“To be polite,” Harry replied after a small silence.

“Why?” Antoni asked, confused and slightly skeptical. Harry was nice, but he didn’t seem like the type to go out of his way to please a stranger.

“Because I wanted you to think I was down for anything,” He said after taking a bite, “which I still am, by the way! I just need to maybe pace myself next time you give me a drink with five different liquors in it.”

“You can stick to your Vodka Sprite next time.”

“How did you know I was drinking Vodka Sprite?”

“Smelled it on your breath when you were practically pissing on me to mark your territory,” Antoni said, looking down at the counter and pretending to clean a spot with his dish towel.

Harry’s jaw dropped, he didn’t expect that at all. Antoni just came closer, and there was no longer a kitchen island to separate them.

“I...no comment,” Harry said finally.

“I thought you’d be one to dish it back,” Antoni replied.

“Wasn’t expecting you to call me out on my antics.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to be so obvious.”

“Shh,” Harry pouted. “Let me finish my toastie.”

“You mean you’re not going to share?”

“Oh, did you want some?” Harry offered it to him.

Antoni leaned into Harry’s hand where the half-eaten grilled cheese was. He stared up and Harry and gingerly took a bite of the sandwich.

Harry willed his skin not to blush from Antoni’s proximity. Instead, he took a drink of the coconut water and tried to focus on keeping his breath steady. He wasn’t used to being this speechless. Usually you couldn’t stop him from mewling sweet words into people’s ears as he worked to wrap them around his finger. But he couldn’t utter a sound.

So Antoni beat him to it.

“You’re cute, you know?”

#hantoni #writing #posting my own fic feels a lot like being thrown off a bridge #BYE

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krokodile · 6 years ago

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Tumblr has decided that one of my posts “may contain adult content” and thus is blocked from public view. However, after digging all the way back through to February, there’s no indicator that it’s been flagged. So I can’t contest it.

It’s a fucking movie review post.

I can only assume the bot spazzed out because it contains a review of the documentary “Fagbug.”

Needless to say I’m reposting everything now because I AM SO FUCKING PISSED. Gay activist movies with inflammatory titles are “adult content.”

(I mean, it sucked, but still.)

Aside from that, I can’t find any content that would anger a bot. I mean, if the bot sat down and watched Take Me to the River, it’d probably get mad, but I don’t explicitly discuss any of its content, so...it included a picture of a child in a bathing suit from the waist up? Is that it? Did one of the movie posters look like nudity somehow? Because I looked at all of them and aside from the potentially triggering flesh tones in Happy Death Day’s poster (that creepy baby face sure is sexy amirite) I, again, see nothing.

And since you can no longer access the posts directly the only way to get the content back is to either harass tumblr via email until they allow the post back up or crawl through your posts on your own account, which can’t be done by day, just by page number. I can’t begin to imagine how shitty this is for people who have original content worth preserving.

movies watched in 2018

take me to the river: guys, here’s the thing. horror is my favorite genre and i’m pretty deadened to everything with “shock value” in film. this little indie drama here, though? this genuinely managed to shock me. i was sitting there at one point unable to believe i was actually watching what i was watching.

please keep in mind that i don’t think that scene was included for the sake of shock value; it was relevant and likely necessary. i’m just saying that NOTHING gets to me in that way, and this did.

it’s a fantastic film, albeit one of those annoying enigmas with no real answers. i would love to have an hour alone with the screenwriter just to find out what they were thinking of in terms of backstories. every major performance is perfect - logan miller is incredible. everyone’s performance is understated, natural and authentic. the little girl who played molly - not sure of her name but i recognized her from “louie” - holds her own with some amazing adult performances and is just as authentic as everyone else. robin reigert is quietly devastating, josh hamilton is equally quietly terrifying, richard schiff and azura skye disappear completely into their characters.

the pacing is on the slow side, but it works well for the story. i watched the entire thing with my stomach in knots, having no idea in hell where it was going. on several occasions i genuinely expected a murder. i’m not used to movies this quiet and slow being so unpredictable. i had to keep pausing it to shake off the tension. it’s also incredibly beautiful to look at.

this is one of those indie gems that is absolutely not for everyone - it touches on some subject matter than many would find deeply upsetting. and i think the film means to be deeply upsetting, but again, it’s in a way that’s not for everyone.

i do wish there were more answers, because i have so many questions, but it does guarantee i’ll be thinking about this movie for years to come, so maybe they did that on purpose.

as an aside, i kept thinking that the little girl looked incredibly familiar, and then it hit me. she looks like a miniature allison case.

change the hair color and she’s an absolute ringer.

(i also got a smile out of her name reveal, just because it’s her cousin asking her how to spell it and she starts with m, and for whatever reason i’m like “oh wouldn’t it be funny if we had the same name,” and at the -o i’m like trying to guess, “maybe she’s morgan, or -”; -l “...ha. awesome.” -l-y “well i’m glad they spelled it properly.” dunno why that amused me, but it did.)

it - better than i thought it would be in some ways. it’s not scary at all and the horror aspects are largely bungled, which is a shame because the dude playing pennywise is pretty creepy and could’ve done better stuff with a better script. i hate the changes they made to beverly’s character, and she and the kid from book of henry were so obnoxiously precocious and precious. that said, all the other kids were fantastic, including that kid i generally dislike from stranger things. he was hilarious, and he and the rest of the pack of boys were so natural in their roles you just started to believe that’s who they were. i’m vaguely looking forward to the sequel.

mammoth - a rewatch; it’s still the same infuriating mansplainy trash it was the first time around, but i wanted mom to see michelle williams’s performance, so. the cast really is perfect; that’s the one thing it has going for it.

marwencol - this guy’s photography is amazing, and his story is super interesting, but what kept jumping out at me was how fucking great this dude’s coping mechanisms were, even if they looked a little odd. for example, he has a crush on his married neighbor, so he added a doll based on her to his little village with the intent of having that doll marry the doll that’s his avatar. the woman got weirded out, told him it wasn’t cool - so he dealt with the rejection by creating a sorceress character who blinked the neighbor character out of that universe and hooked it up with that guy’s character. like...that’s the weirdest way i’ve ever seen someone handle rejection, but also kinda the healthiest. he said repeatedly that he had no interesting in actually pursuing his neighbor romantically because he respected that she was married. he never said a cruel word to her, or complained to the camera about her being a bitch or ungrateful or whatever dumb shit people come up with. absolutely no threats or hints of violence. just “i’m hurt by this rejection, so fuck it, i’m erasing her from this narrative.” like...that’s honestly brilliant. don’t know why this stuck with me more than anything else, but it did. i know there’s a drama adaptation coming out soon with steve carell, and i expect that’ll be great.

maudie - i adore sally hawkins so much. i haven’t seen the shape of water yet; i really only know her from paddington, but there’s just something about her that makes me like her. and her performance in this is stellar. i know nothing about maud lewis (besides the fact that i like her paintings) but sally hawkins was easy to fall in love with. sweet, smart, shrewd, just a hell of a mind but also a huge heart.

happy death day - i was NOT expecting to enjoy this as much as i did. it’s really perfectly executed for the type of movie it is. great comedy - one of the funniest onscreen kills i’ve ever seen - genuine danger and stakes (a rarity in groundhog day type movies), and a main character with actual depth; enough so that you actually care about her and want her to survive this movie (i don’t recognize the actress, but she does a great job with the role). and a fucking fantastic red herring that totally caught me off-guard. i was expecting something dumb, a carelessly written splatterfest aimed at the lowest common denominator. (yeah i’m a horror snob fuck you.) actually there’s very little blood/gore, which apparently bothered some viewers, but i don’t think any effect was minimized without it. i had a ton of fun watching it. didn’t expect that.

dunkirk - i’m just gonna say it. it was bad. i’m generally pretty neutral on war movies - for the most part they’re not my thing but there are plenty i’ve enjoyed and plenty i’ve been able to appreciate as good filmmaking even if the film itself wasn’t for me. this movie is just not good. generic war movie created around a truly amazing true story that could have been an amazing film. wasted opportunity.

fagbug - i completely understand why the gay community had worse things to say about this person than heteros did. ugh. stop making actual tragedies about you, stop talking over people and stop acting like an epic victim.

before i wake - surprisingly not bad, could’ve been better. liked it better before the last few minutes. it had some clever ideas and it was fun putting everything together, but having it put together for us takes the fun out of it, and making the kids’ “powers” unambiguous is a little...hard to swallow i guess? but it’s still surprisingly pretty good.

under the arctic sky - random netflix generator told me to watch this and while cold water surfing isn’t something i’m super interested in, the photography is gorgeous. i can’t pretend i didn’t cry like a little bitch watching the one guy surfing under the northern lights. just...the world is just awesome.

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#movies watched in 2018 #MWi2018: fagbug #gay #MWi2018: take me to the river #MWi2018: dunkirk #MWi2018: before i wake #horror movies #horror movies: before i wake #MWi2018: under the arctic sky #horror movies: happy death day #MWi2018: happy death day #MWi2018: marwencol #MWi2018: maudie #MWi2018: mammoth #MWi2018: it 2017 #horror movies: it 2017

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neverisalongtime-ja-blog · 8 years ago

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Chapter 35: Richard

Hello everyone! Her I am again, as every Thursday. I’m so in love with today’s chapter! Y’all can even imagine.

I wanna say thanks for the huge suppor I received after last week’s words. You all are angels sent by the Universe to make me happy!

Remember to check Anastasia’s Instagram that is on fire:

Anastasia_Truman ❤️️

Thanks to everyone who reads the fic, much love to you all! ♥

Read chapter 34

- I’m so tired of this week-on-week-off thing – Josh told Anastasia on the bus on the way to Pittsburg, as he laid his head on her lap, while she was playing with his hair.

- Yeah. I know what you mean – Mandy spoke from the couch in front of them. Nick and Eric were there also.

- It’s like you get used to the touring routine and then it’s cut down and then you get used to the home routine and it’s also cut down – Anastasia told them.

- I never thought we were going to be here at this point of the tour – Eric said.

- None of us – Josh said smiling and looking into An’s eyes – But the crew love you all so much and people like to see you onstage so…

- It has been an incredible experience so far, though – Mandy talked again.

- It’s been a dream come true – Nick said this time.

- Aw! That was the sweetest thing you could ever fucking say – Anastasia said while everyone was laughing.

- I’m working on my sweet side – Nick said smiling.

- Work a little harder – Mandy said.

The group was trying hard to kill time on the road, they packed the tour bus with a great videogame system, they spent time listening to music, Anastasia was having a big inspirational streak at writing and Mandy consumed her time watching Drag Queen makeup tutorials on Youtube, since she was the makeup artist of the band. Josh and Anastasia kept sharing glances during the whole trip, she knew that as soon as they’d arrive and people or crew started to gather around they were going to be back to friends mode, it was a new situation for her but somehow it wasn’t bothering her, she was even enjoying it.

Tiredness was a real issue and it was starting to show on everybody. They’d been touring for almost a year and people (especially Josh) were starting to get angry about everything and anything. Sometimes he didn’t measure the words out of his mouth and, even if he didn’t meant to, he was starting to treat people around him in not the nicest way. He wasn’t the only one, Flea and Anthony retraced themselves in such a way that none left their dressing rooms, backstage. Chad, on the other hand, was always Chad, he always had a good laugh to share and a joke to make.

One night, in Louisville, Mandy and Anastasia were having a total girl’s night wearing onesies, doing facials, eating pizza, drinking champagne (the best combination) and watching RuPaul’s Drag Race again; they were obsessed with the show. Just the two of them; like the old times. Anastasia loved spending time like that with Mandy.

- I think if I were a drag queen my name would be “Pussy Galore” – Anastasia said sipping from her glass.

- Oh my God! I love it! – Mandy said.

- She would be a retired super model – Anastasia got up from the bed – From the 90’s. She used to hang out with Kate, Claudia and Linda and maybe – she walked to the window – she received a phone hit from Naomi, but she got over it now. She would have that Versace catwalk sass – She started to walk as if the room were a runway, making exaggerated poses.

- Love that Versace sass – Mandy said while she started to clap and laugh at the same time – Pussy Galore will need a lot of padding, since you are British and God didn’t help you in that area.

- Are you reading me? – Anastasia said turning around and looking her from her back.

- The library is open, baby – Mandy was making a reference to one of the segments of the show – She would wear designer clothes.

- Only big brands. Moschino – Anastasia said – And Versace, of course – This time both friends talked at the same time. Anastasia throw herself at the bed again and they both laughed. In that moment Anastasia’s phone rang and Josh’s picture appeared on the screen, he was calling. Mandy looked at her friend suspiciously – I’m gonna put him on speaker but don’t talk!

- Hey! – Josh’s voice could be heard – What are you doing?

- I’m having a girl’s night with Mandy and watching RuPaul’s Drag Race while I pretend I am one of them.

- Weird, but coming from you it’s perfectly normal – He said – Is there a way you can skip that and come to my room? I got wine.

- Mmm – The two friends shared a glance – No, Josh. Not tonight. I already told you that I’m with Mandy and we’re already drinking champagne.

- Are you serious? – He asked and Mandy opened her mouth shocked.

- Dead serious – Anastasia was mad he asked that.

- Come on, An! – He said – I know you want to. Come over! – He said raising his voice - I’ll fuck you like I did in Miami.

- I think I’m missing some kind of cue here – Anastasia was really angry at that point – I’m not some kind of mistress you call to have sex like that, Josh. What the fuck?

- Fine! – He hung up the call.

- Good luck with the hand, bro! – Mandy was laughing – What was that? – Mandy asked.

- A booty call?

- A sassy booty call, as we say in Drag Race.

- I feel offended.

- I’m offended too. Who does he thinks you are? His sex doll?

- I mean, that’s basically what we have. Our relationship is based on sex, at the moment; but for him to call me the way he did, I don’t know. It was uncomfortable, awkward.

- Forget about it, let’s continue to watch our queens, they don’t hurt us like boys do – Mandy said to her friend. But as much as that Anastasia tried, she couldn’t shake that weird feeling off her.

She tried to sleep that night but Josh’s voice didn’t leave her mind alone. She kept hearing that phone call over and over and over again. He treated her like she was some kind of score girl that was going to be ready for sex whenever he wanted. She can understand that he was tired and angry about the tour but that didn’t give him the right to refer to her that way. In her opinion, he minimized her and she wasn’t going to allow that. Not now, not never, especially not him. If she agreed to have this relationship with Josh, where she clearly was the side chick, it was going to be under her rules, and if she didn’t feel like being with him she wasn’t going to.

“How ironic”, she thought; she went from being the girlfriend to being the other woman in less than a year. There was no point in trying, she couldn’t sleep that night. Thank the Universe next day was off and she decided to spend the whole day in bed. Josh’s attitude the night before still bothered her, so at noon she had a shower, got dressed and went straight to Josh’s room. When he opened the door she could tell he had been sleeping the entire day too, his face was bloated and his eyes were red, she knew right there that he drank that wine last night, after all.

- I was sleeping – He said at the door – But come in.

- Yeah. I can tell – She entered the room – Can you tell me what the fuck was going through your mind last night? – She asked turning to be in front of him.

- I know… Sorry – Josh said walking to the bedroom.

- Josh, I’m not a fucking prostitute – She followed him.

- I just had a rough day and I wanted to be with you – He said getting back into the bed – Maybe the words I used weren’t the right ones. I’m sorry – He was grabbed the sheets and blankets and covered himself up to his neck.

- I’m so angry right now. It seems you’re just ignoring me – Anastasia was just standing there – It’s obvious I’m interrupting your rest, I’ll leave.

- No! – Josh jumped out of bed and got on his knees over the mattress – Stay. I’m not ignoring you. I’m just tired.

- I’m tired too… - Anastasia said.

- Come here, lay with me – Josh said opening his arms – We’ll watch one of those documentaries on Netflix that will make us feel bad about ourselves for a couple of days. We’ll have room service – The smile on Josh’s face was something hard to resist.

Anastasia just nodded with her head and went straight to him. He hugged her and helped her to get in bed with him. He took his laptop to put Netflix on and they decided to watch a documentary about vegans and how animals were murdered to make food. She loved that, days like those when doing nothing was the norm. She turned her face to see Josh and he was watching the screen of his notebook with the covers up to his neck, he looked so incredible cute, she looked at his jaw line, the thing she liked most, his small brown but bright eyes, his nose that he hated, she liked every inch of it. She got closer and kissed him on the cheek; he turned and looked at her smiling.

- What was that for? – He asked smiling still. How she loved that smile.

- I don’t need a reason to give you a kiss – She said.

- Good to know – He put an arm around her shoulders and pushed her to him. She rested her head on his chest and kept watching the documentary.

- Are we clear that this isn’t going to stop me from eating meat? – She said – Yes, the thing is terrible but… dude. I can’t live without meat.

- You just read my mind – He said.

Before the documentary ended, both fell asleep in a hug.

Next morning, Anastasia woke up with an arm around her waist and turned her body to see Josh in front of her opening his eyes also, but she had the feeling he’s been awake for a couple of minutes. She just stared into his eyes, looked to his soul and realized the she loved that guy so much, but she needed to put distance between them if she wanted to maintain the relationship the way it was. Truth was she was falling again and falling hard, and she couldn’t afford to go deep in love with Josh again, not at the moment, not knowing that maybe in a couple of weeks he was going to be sleeping with another woman in his bed.

- Waking up next to you is the best way to start the day – He said making what Anastasia was about to say even harder to say.

- Josh – She smiled – I’ve been sleeping next to you almost every night on this leg of the tour – He smiled – And I don’t think it’s healthy for my mental stability – His smile disappeared.

- What you mean? – He asked.

- I like what we have now. No attachments, no responsibilities. But the truth is that we used to have a relationship, a serious one, and I loved you with all my heart, and then I thought that I was over that but I wasn’t, I still love you and I can’t do it. Not with this depth and this devotion – Anastasia sat on the bed – Lauren is going to LA to be with you, and then what am I gonna do? – He looked away from her – I’m not cutting this off, I’m just saying that it’s better for me if I have some space.

- You’re right – Josh said looking into her eyes again – I’m sorry.

- Don’t be sorry. I know what I was getting into and as I said I’m not ending this, it’s just that I think it’s better if I share some nights with Mandy and maybe go out with the boys, not devoting myself to you as the way I’m doing it right now. I need to know that I’m gonna be ok without you also.

- But don’t walk away from me – There it was again, that plead. Josh pronounced these words with fear on his voice.

- Believe me when I say that I couldn’t even if I wanted to – She leaned over him and gave him a small kiss on his lips, he smiled afterwards – I’m going to my room and get ready to go to the venue. See you there!

- Wait – He grabbed her right arm and pushed her back to him and gave her a much more passionate kiss.

That tour leg was being quite boring but the shows came out really good even though the crowd in most cities didn’t even know who Dead Curse was. They ended up in Canada, where they performed in Winnipeg, Edmonton and Calgary. Winnipeg went light, but in Edmonton Anthony decided to go around the city with Flea, Josh, Carl and some crew guys. Anastasia, Mandy and Eric decided to join them and it was quite a revolution of people filming them and taking pictures; they went to the farmers market and then had lunch at a Mexican place. Apparently, Mexican food was becoming the norm at the tour.

Despite the bunch of pictures that appeared on the web and that really bothered Josh, the last shows were the best of that part of the tour. Anastasia was keeping her word and didn’t spend much time in Josh’s room, instead, she went shopping with Mandy in Kansas City and went to have a couple of drinks with Eric, Nick and some crew people. They were the best guys she had worked on a tour ever so it wasn’t hard to make time to spend with them.

Then it was time to take another plain to go back home. She needed it, she needed to sleep in her bed and restore her body and soul.

- I won’t leave my bed in three days – Anastasia told Mandy during the flight.

At that moment, her phone made a short sound to alert her she had a new message: “Call me when you’re in LA. You are going to love me”, it was from her brother Mark. She waited to be home and after a bath she called him back.

- I already love you but if I’m going to love you more I’m interested – An said when Mark picked up the phone.

- I have two pieces of news for you – Mark said – First, Steph said yes…

- Well, duh! – She said after a laugh – I’M SO FUCKING HAPPY FOR YOU AND STEPH! – She screamed through her smartphone. What’s the other one?

- I’ve been working in the studio with your favorite band since you were sixteen…

- Oh my God! The Genius Sex Poets? – She opened her eyes big like plates.

- That’s right! – Mark said laughing.

- Why didn’t you tell me anything?

- Because you were going to be busy and wouldn’t have time to be at the studio – Mark answered – Thing is, they are going to film the video for their first single this weekend in Las Vegas and Richard saw a picture of you on my Instagram profile and he wants you to appear on it.

- Richard fucking Austin? – Anastasia asked incredulous – Shut up, Mark! You’re joking!

- I’m not! – He said laughing.

- He has been my platonic love since I was a teenager!

- I know. I took you to their concerts.

- I love them so much!

- The new record sounds amazing!

- Can’t wait to hear it.

- So… what do I say to Richard?

- Say hell yeah! – She heard her brother laughing hard on the phone.

- We’ll leave to Vegas this Thursday.

She couldn’t believe it! She wasn’t a person that idolized other people, but The Genius Sex Poets always had a place in her heart. They played rock music with a couple of synthesizers and made some of the catchiest songs she ever heard; they were amazing on record and even better live. Richard Austin was the front man, the lead singer, and he had this amazingly arrogant stage persona that melted her heart every time she saw them in concert, so sure of himself, cocky, his eyes were light brown as his hair, all sleek to the back. He wasn’t tall but his smile could light up the city were they came from: Las Vegas. She used to have a huge poster with his face in her room when she was a teenager, they were definitely one of her favorite bands in life.

That was perfect, because Lauren was already in town with Josh and this was the ideal plan for her to keep her mind busy and not even think about those two. She was feeling strange about it, she thought she was going to feel depressed and full of rage by Josh being with her those weeks, but in reality she was pretty laid back about it. She had a knot in her stomach but it wasn’t as heavy as other times before.

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abalonetea · 7 years ago

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Ayy For the ship meme, you should do YOUR favorite pairing! ❤

You spoil me so much! Ugh, I can’t believe I got such a lovely ask for this! I actually have a lot of favorite ships, so I decided to be really self-indulgent and pick my top three favorites, if that’s okay? This ask is spoiling me so much right now ~

Stan/Jimmy is the literal cutest thing I have ever come up with, and I have so many thoughts on these darling boys

o Who is the restless sleeper? I wouldn’t call Stan restless, per say. He sleeps best if he’s got someone else in the bed with him, but it’s more of a comfort thing than anything else.o o Who eats cereal for dinner? Stan will. He eats basically anything that he finds in the cabinets, or leftovers that Cartman drops off.o o Who wears odd socks? Jimmy has a huge freakin’ collection of novelty socks. He has fuzzy socks, socks with designs on them, socks that light-up. Basically he just loves novelry socks and he has an entire drawer filled up with them.o o Who reads more? Neither of them are particularly big readers. o o Who prefers a bath over a shower? Stan takes bath sometimes, but they’re honestly both shower people. o o Who can knit? Neither of them.o o Who has the weirder laugh? Stan has a really deep, kind of rolling sort of laugh but it takes a lot of work to get it out of him. Jimmy’s is kind of stuttering, and a little lower pitched.o o Who gets more jealous? Neither of them are very jealous people, though Stan gets embarrassed far, far more often. o o Who sleeps with a teddy bear? Ah, neither of them. Like I said, though, Stan does sleep better if he’s got someone else in the bed with him.o o Who still uses internet explorer? Stan does. Jimmy likes Firefox, unfortunately. o o Who is the most sentimental? One of the trickier questions on this list, I think. Jimmy is a very thoughtful, sweet person. He doesn’t mind going super slow with everything and being ore lowkey, because he knows that’s what makes Stan the most comfortable. Stan tries very hard to be more openly affectionate, and he keeps basically any gift that Jimmy gives him.o o Who can play an instrument? Stan knows how to play the guitar, but he doesn’t do it very often anymore.o o Who has the worst sense of direction? Stan gets lost a lot if they have to go into the city for anything, but he’s pretty good out in the forest around Stark’s Pond.o o Who cooks breakfast? Sometimes Jimmy gets up and turns on the coffee pot. Does that count?o o Who is the early riser? Jimmy gets up earlier than Stan, but I still wouldn’t call him an earlier riser.

Ike/Wendy, because they go together surprisingly well

o Who is the restless sleeper? Ike still gets nightmares a lot. He also has a hard time getting his mind to turn off, and tends to roll around in the bed a lot. It takes him forever to get to sleep.o o Who eats cereal for dinner? Ike will eat anything that is sat down in front of him, and only makes himself food that requires a very minimal amount of work. He would live off of cereal and ramen noodles, if you let him. o o Who wears odd socks? Ike likes really bright neon colored socks, and will frequently walk through the house in mismatched neon socks and his boxers.o o Who reads more? Actually, Ike does a lot of reading. He likes really stupid books like “Captain Underpants” and “Where The Sidewalk Ends”, but he’s also read all of Kyle’s books. Loves anything by Roald Dahl. Meanwhile, Wendy is very, very picky about what she reads, which sort of limits her options. o o Who prefers a bath over a shower? I feel like I’ve used Ike for every answer so far, lmao, but also Ike? He loves using those stupidly massive bath bombs that change the color of the water.o o Who can knit? Neither of them can knit, but Wendy knows how to cross-stitch and embroider! She likes doing it whenever they lose power, or if they’re having a bad snowstorm and she gets snowed into her house. Mostly, she does flowers or small forest animals.o o Who has the weirder laugh? Laughs are so hard to describe, but I feel like it’s also just such an important character trait to have down. Wendy has a very loud laugh when she finds something honestly funny, and sometimes she laughs hard enough that she starts snorting. Ike gets kind of breathless when he laughs.o o Who gets more jealous? Neither of them are particularly jealous. Ike is very upfront when he starts the relationship about how, while he honestly wants to date Wendy, he still very much would like to sleep around. It bothers Bebe more than it bothers Wendy, honestly. o o Who sleeps with a teddy bear? Ike has a really old, well worn stuffed cat that he keeps on his bed. Does that count?o o Who still uses internet explorer? Ike does it on purpose, because he knows that it pisses Kyle off. o o Who is the most sentimental? Ike likes to pretend he’s a hotshot, but he’s a big fucking goof. Loves to bring Wendy flowers and pick up little, stupid things that he finds at the store that make Ike think of her. o o Who can play an instrument? Ike is an expert when it comes to playing classic piano. His absolute favorite is Sergei Rachmaninoff. Recently he’s gotten involved with a music program out in Peach Creek that rents out the local amphitheater once a month, and he goes out there with a bunch of other kids to put on mini-concerto’s. o o Who has the worst sense of direction? Please never let Ike go out into the woods on his own. He will never be able to find his way home.o o Who cooks breakfast? Ike tried to cook eggs once and burnt them so badly that they had to throw out the entire pan.o o Who is the early riser? Wendy likes to watch the sunrise. She always feels like she’s wasted the day if she sleeps in too late.

Kenny/Cartman, my forever OTP

o Who is the restless sleeper? Cartman has a very hard time staying asleep. He’s prone to nightmares and muscle aches. That being said, Kenny often has a hard time getting to sleep. They tend to sit up really late together watching re-runs of The Duchess and then if Kenny still can’t get to sleep, Cartman will either read him stories (from a well-worn collection of fairy tales) or he just makes stories up to tell Kenny.o o Who eats cereal for dinner? Neither of them do, because Cartman works very hard to make sure that there is always something really yummy in the fridge for whenever Kenny comes over. Sometimes if Kenny has to work that evening, Cartman will come by the gas station with a packed dinner.o o Who wears odd socks? Kenny has a ton of old socks that don’t match.o o Who reads more? Neither of them are really big readers, honestly. Like I said, Cartman will read stories to Kenny if he can’t sleep, or to Karen if she’s over for the evening.o o Who prefers a bath over a shower? Cartman likes to take hot baths. He uses nice smelling bubble bath mostly. Kenny likes taking showers the most, and sometimes Cartman will get a shower with Kenny and then get a bath afterwards, if his knee is still hurting. o o Who can knit? Lianne taught Cartman when he was younger, but he doesn’t do it very often. He once made some new doll clothes for Karen, back when they were younger! Sometimes he’ll make a scarf if he’s really bored or really stressed, and he usually gives them to his friends and passes them off as “shit from his grandmother”. Stan, Kyle, and Kenny all own at least one.o o Who has the weirder laugh? Cartman has kind of this deep, bellow-y sort of laugh but I don’t know if you would count it as weird. Kenny always squints up his eyes when he laughs.o o Who gets more jealous? Ah, the question of the ages. Cartman and Kenny spent a very long time working things out when they first got together. They have a partially open relationship – Kenny can sleep around with basically whoever, as long as Cartman is the only one that he dates. And, uh, Cartman’s good with that because? Frankly, I picture him as being panromantic and heterosexual, so while he loves Kenny very, very much he’s also not interested in sleeping with him. I’m rambling, sorry. Pulling myself back onto the topic, Cartman really mostly gets jealous when it comes to Kenny hanging out with their friends, or other very minor things. He also gets very jealous over who Stan hangs out with because??? Stan’s one of his best friends, okay, and he doesn’t have a whole lot of friends. It all stems from Cartman being very insecure and slightly concerned that they’re going to find someone better to be friends with.o o Who sleeps with a teddy bear? Cartman, hands down.o o Who still uses internet explorer? They both use internet explorerer.o o Who is the most sentimental? They’re both super sentimental softies at heart, though Kenny is much more open about it. Sometimes Kenny is still taken off guard when Cartman is openly earnest about something.o o Who can play an instrument? Kenny can sing opera really well. Does that count?o o Who has the worst sense of direction? Cartman couldn’t find his way out of a cardboard box. He still gets lost in the woods out by Stark’s Pond.o o Who cooks breakfast? Cartman cooks most every meal. He loves cooking and is really super good at it!o o Who is the early riser? Kenny is always the first one up, but then he lays in the bed and does jack-shit until Cartman gets up, too.This got really long, I’m sorry! Thank you so much for the ask!

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oursyncracyqwo34 · 4 years ago

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According to current reports, whole milk provides important antibodies that are indispensable for the development of the young immune system. A healthy immune system in infants helps to ward off diseases and delays the entire milk allergy.

When should a child know their ABCS?

By age 2: Kids start recognizing some letters and can sing or say aloud the “ABC” song. By age 3: Kids may recognize about half the letters in the alphabet and start to connect letters to their sounds. (As s makes the /s/ sound.) By age 4: Kids often know every one of the letters of the alphabet and their correct order.

There are several other critical landmarks which are attained in this time period that parents tend not to highlight as much as walking and talking. Gaining the ability to point at anything it's the little one wants you to find shows huge psychological gains from a toddler. This normally happens before a child's first birthday. From the time your baby is 12 weeks old, they ought to have stopped using bottles with teats completely. Your baby should be drinking out of an open or even a free-flow cup, so this helps them learn how to sip instead of suck beverages. Pretend play offers many opportunities to wait, take turns, and negotiate as children decide how the story will unfold. Another notion is playing"sharing audio" where all you chooses an instrument to perform and place an egg-timer for 1 minute.

From the end of their second year, many toddlers show more attention in the business of other kids. They might not be quite ready to talk about their toys when they perform, but it is a big step in their budding life.

Some kids will have difficulty stopping a tantrum. In such circumstances, consider saying,"I'll help you settle down now." But whatever you do, do not benefit your toddler by providing in. This will only prove that tantrums are an effective way to get what he or she would like. Instead, verbally praise your child for regaining self-control. Bear in mind that want to teach your kid that the best approach to get exactly what he or she needs is through good behaviour. If you understand your toddler is tired, it's not the best time to go grocery shopping or attempt to squeeze in one more errand. It is important not to spank, hit, or slap your little one.

At this age, children will probably not have the ability to generate a connection between the behavior and bodily punishment. The message you send when you spank is that it is OK to hit someone if you are angry. Experts say that spanking isn't any more powerful than other forms of discipline, like timeouts. And don't forget that children learn by watching adults, especially their parents. So make sure that your own behavior is role-model material. When requesting your child to pick up toys, then you'll make a much stronger belief if you've put your own belongings instead of leaving all your stuff over the room. Toys or dolls may also help you show the procedure for your little friend.

Between 18 and 24 months, a toddler's brain is ready to begin playing make-believe. You may grab them"feeding" a teddy bear or talking into a toy phone.

But about months, you can expect to hear some actual words. Between 18 and 24 months, most children start using words that are simple, like"no more" or even"go there." By age two, you might even hear a short sentence or two. Daily having a toddler is an experience -- and there's so much to look forward to as your child grows. Wondering if your child will begin to walk, talk, and do all of those adorable toddler items? As infants move in their next year of life, they are more portable and much more independent, exploring what they can access.

This phase can start as early as nine months old depending upon the child and surroundings.

Toddlers tend to have temper tantrums because they have such powerful emotions but do not know how to express themselves the way that older children and adults do.

This era is occasionally referred to as"the terrible twos", because of the temper tantrums for which they're famous.

Immediate causes can include physical factors such as hunger, discomfort and tiredness or a youngster's desire to gain increased freedom and control of the environment .

The toddler is discovering they are a separate being from their parent and are testing their boundaries in learning the way the world around them works.

One of the most irresponsible items for toddlers is having a sippy cup in their hands while they eat. While babies will latch on to bottles using their palms, you should never leave your baby alone with a bottle - ever. Babies swallow their bottle as a very tiny part of the hungry body, and this can result in suffocation. While the baby may seem like he or she is nursing, the fact is that the infant is simply taking joy from the bottle itself.

Fifteen months is the best age for you to start making changes in your toddler's diet. You will need to make certain that the kid you have is getting enough nourishment, so start introducing new foods to their diet. Start by giving your toddler three meals a day, at the same times each day, and make sure each toddler has three little cups of their own food. When you begin changing up the toddler meals, you will also find that your toddler will probably be more receptive to change and eating in a brand new way.

Provide Constant Supervision. You will have to monitor the toddler constantly, and be certain that the toddler has everything he or she needs. Toddlers will develop many bad behaviors if they are not tracked, so always supervising them is necessary. This implies providing constant supervision when they are doing their homework, potty training, riding the bicycle, playing outside, eating meals, and going to bed. With continuous supervision, you can grab toddler behaviors until they become dangerous and life-threatening.

Toddlers and Kids: It's All About Good Nutrition Parents who feed their child with ready-to-eat foods or nutritionally fortified meals often realize that the child develops several bad eating habits since they're given what they want when they are hungry. One of the best ways to maintain your toddler healthy is through healthy eating options. When you select healthy foods for your toddler, you will discover he or she gets tons of minerals and vitamins, and avoid developing bad eating habits.

Toddlers And Toys: It's All About Safety Parents often don't remember that the toys that they select for their little one can result in accidental injuries or even death. Always check the toy for small parts that may be choking hazards. Never leave a toddler unsupervised near or on the toys. Choose toys that come with a locking mechanism so that the toddler cannot reach and play the parts. Keep in mind that kids should not be put at risk for choking while playing with any sort of toy.

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totalfanfreak · 8 years ago

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Knight by Night Pt. 1.5

Knight by Night Pt. 1 1/2

On the Way to the CDC:

Death was the easiest and hardest thing in the universe. It was so easy to get killed, so many ways, so many causes, but it was so hard to allow it. No one wanted to die, no one wanted to go off into the unknown, and it was so hard for the people left behind, hard for them to let those people go. Seeing all the people get torn apart as you fought through the mob of walkers…it would be a lie to say it was the first time you saw something like that, but it hurt just as much if not more so. Amy was gone, and Andrea was devastated. That look of such abundant grief was all so familiar to you that you stayed away, having slid back into the RV before Andrea had finished burying her sister. Amy and Glenn had been the first friends you had allowed yourself to have since your family had been taken from your life. Now it was back to how it started, whittled down one by one. It’d go on until there was no one left.

Pulling up the sheets Dale had found to cover the windows you threw off the stifling hoodie, able to breathe again as the sweat beaded and dried. It left you with the feeling you had played in the ocean. You didn’t want to cry, you hardly ever did to begin with, and that left you sliding on the floor next to the bed. Your face hurt, you knew you stayed out too long. You hadn’t put that much sunscreen on, wanting to stretch it until you found some more. Poor decision now that you knew it didn’t work. The corticosteroids you had were running low too, and without a book or something telling you the list of the ones you needed to look for your supply was going to deplete. You had aloe though; lots of it, and you slathered it on. The relief was minimal but it was enough to soothe the sting. You gave one of the throbbing bumps on your face a poke, praying they would go down and not blister.

“Y/N?”

You gazed at the door, while it cracked open. “Yeah, Glenn?”

“You okay?”

You nodded, solemn. “Yeah. It all just happened so quick, you know?”

He came in the room, taking a seat on the bed. “Yeah. I do.”

It was always hard and a little weird to think of everyone you had met, their life before, they all had families – people who loved them. You knew Glenn had parents, two older sisters. You tried to picture that, a little Glenn, if they were like your sister they would’ve used him like a doll. Dressing him up, tea parties, maybe putting makeup on him. And he lost that. All of you had lost a lifetime of memories in a split of a second. You leaned on his knee. It was never an issue with the two of you, the platonic realm of the friendship. It was like you could pretend you were family.

“I wish I had been closer…to Amy. Maybe I could’ve helped her, and she wouldn’t –“

Be gone. Dead. Shot through the head.

“There’s nothing you could’ve done, Y/N. Fact is, I kinda thought you were…you know. We couldn’t find you for so long.”

“I’m sorry. There were so many, I tried to get them to follow through the woods to the traps. Not many did.”

“It was smart, and you did what you could.”

“Sure.”

You were both quiet for a while before Glenn cleared his throat. “Rick came up with the idea to head to the CDC. Someone there might be able to tell us something about all this. Maybe they can help Jim.”

You were going to sputter out something sarcastic but stopped seeing the expression on Glenn’s face, he had hope. He hadn’t seen what a person went through when they were bit. Didn’t know that it whatever rotted sludge is on the dead’s teeth rushes through the bloodstream and shuts the immune system down. An adult usually didn’t last a day, but you had seen it. Knew firsthand that a child could last up to three days, they’re immunes systems in top condition trying to battle off the virus. But succumbing to it in the end. Yet you kept your mouth shut. If there was hope in them let them have it, there could be something there, supplies, a safe place to lie for a while.

“Sounds good. Better than that damn fort Walsh wants to drag us to.”

“It’ll be closer anyways…um, I know you use it in here so, you know, you don’t…but the group needs to –“

You smirked. “Glenn just spit it out.”

“They want to put Jim in here. So he can rest.”

“Hey, if he doesn’t mind it a little dark then I’ll watch him. It’ll all be fine.”

Glenn smiled, perking up at your ease of the situation. “Right. Your right, everything’s going to work out. Something’s got to, doesn’t it? I’m going to let everyone know.”

You made sure everything was pinned up well, settling into the small stack of pillows on the floor. Sighing you reached into your knapsack – clothes, toothbrush, regular brush, odds and ends. But you found what you were looking for. It was a picture of you and Amy, taken when Glenn had snagged a Polaroid from a run. It had been late and she couldn’t sleep, both of you talking and working through the night. She had wanted to take the photo to commemorate her new friends. You both looked like shit from doing laundry and other chores, sweaty from the balmy air. Part of you wanted to hoard it for yourself but the other part knew Andrea might like to have it. You both knew this loss, but the greater one would be when the image of them would start to fade. You had been around your family every single day of your life, but without that constant, their faces, mannerisms, voices it all started to blur. Yes, you had some moments that you could recall so vividly but to forget a few pieces of them was like losing them all over again.

You would be asleep right now under different circumstances, but you were too wired from everything. After waiting several minutes your anxiety got the better of you so you went back outside to see what the holdup was. Exiting the RV the sun blinded you; God you needed to find another hat or something soon, some sunglasses would be nice. When your eyes stopped burning you were able to make out everyone in a circle near the cars, you made your over to them sure to make quick strides to ask what was happening and make a beeline back to the safety of the RV.

“Something wrong?”

You had been waiting for the group to respond, not expecting the surly voice to come from behind. “Yeah, sumthin’s wrong, your dumbass’s back out here.”

You jumped, turning to see Daryl sweaty and bloody from burning and burying the dead.

“I thought you guys were bringing Jim in to keep me company. None of you came so I was afraid something’s wrong.”

You saw Daryl begin to snarl when footsteps drew you to the other direction. It was the guy Glenn and them brought back the other day – Rick, Carl’s dad, Lori’s husband. The one who handcuffed Merle up, tried to go after him. He seemed like a decent man. Hell, he was a cop, but then again so was Walsh. Heard them say they worked together, good friends, so how decent was he when Walsh was such an asshole?

“We’re about to load up soon, just affirming everything, saying goodbye.”

“Goodbye?”

You searched their faces and landed on Miranda who gave a sad smile.

“No.”

She reached out to you, pulling you into a hug. The older woman shorter than you but held that such maternal strength.

“It’s for the best, novia. It’s our time to find how our loved ones did.”

After wishing them luck, and saying goodbyes you felt yourself pulled from behind back to the RV. You saw Rick striding closer, hand going out.

“Now listen, we can’t have that.”

It was Daryl pulling you, and in a moment you knew the sheriff thought he was hurting you. It made you laugh, Daryl could shoot a squirrel between the eyes, probably punch a guy’s head off, but he wasn’t an abuser. He’d let a girl beat him up before raising a hand. He reminded you of a dog you used to pass on your way to school growing up. It had been some kind of boxer breed, jumping up on his hind legs to stand against the fence, barking ferociously. All living things on some level could smell fear, and at nine you were aware of that. But you stood your ground, a trait you held onto even now, baby talking the dog as his ear went back in confusion. You brought him treats, keeping the soothing voice until the day he didn’t use the ferocious bark instead using one of eagerness. One day you came up, holding your hand out against the protests of your siblings while the dog sniffed your hand before giving a tentative lick. After that you were best friends. That old saying his bark’s worse than his bite seemed to adhere to Daryl just as well.

“Can’t have what? None of you are gonna put her in there. Ya’ll just gonna leave her out ta burn to death.”

Rick didn’t understand, looking at you to explain. But Daryl speaking for you instead.

“Look at her damn face; she can’t be out her that long.”

You flushed. You hadn’t cared about your appearance since this started, why should you? People were dying and coming back there was no time to give a shit how you looked. But having Daryl Dixon, filthy and sweaty usually not giving a shit about anything pretty much saying your face was horrendous enough to be used as an explanation it made you want to lock yourself in the bathroom to use the mirror.

“It’s fine, Mr. Grimes. Daryl wouldn’t hurt us, and as much as it hurts to say he’s right. Just bang on the side of the RV if you guys need help or something.”

Rick nodded, eyes steady on you. “We will, I promise we won’t leave anyone out.”

You smiled in reply, seeing his honesty. You let Daryl drag you back inside, and you nearly sighed from the relief of the cover.

“Thanks for calling me ugly out there, Dixon.”

“Didn’t call ya fuckin’ ugly. Yur face is all red and shit.”

You rubbed at the raised bumps on your cheek. “I know. I hate it. But I needed to do it.

He was staring at you, like he had something to say. When he wouldn’t let it out you spoke up.

“Wanted to thank you for doing it too, all the help you do…for staying.”

He was biting the inside of his cheek. If you had to take a guess, Daryl was nervous.

“Don’t gotta thank me for that shit. Stayed cause I wanted to. Figured it was like ya said, we’re both out lookin’ for each other, end up bumping inta him sooner or later.”

You nodded. “I think you will.”

He started to leave before he turned back around. “I thought about what you were sayin’. Maybe I did do it wrong, I –“

He clamped his mouth shut. “I’d still want someone ta do it for me though. Merle had a stash here with him. Not much, but if Jim’s wantin’ to could help him. Help him fall asleep then, ya know…”

“I’ll ask him. That’s kind of you, Daryl. He can dream for a while before…He shouldn’t have to hurt so much.”

“I hear ya. Keep an eye on him though, just in case.”

You smiled, watching Daryl’s eyes cast to the ground before leaving the RV.

Taggers!

@derpypenguin

@sapphire1727

#the walking dead #twd #twd fic #the walking dead fic #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl x you #reader insert #locations

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disrepairhouse · 6 years ago

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Chapter 5 - Unexpected Outcomes

RK stared at the broken, still malfunctioning robot across the lab, debating how best to deal with his early reactivation. Of course, he was glad to see his companion moving and, well, mostly speaking again, but at the same time he knew the situation was precarious and needed to be handled correctly to avoid fallout. Though, at least one uncertainty was answered with the other robot's second question.

"Who are you and what is your objective? Why are you in this lab?"

He looked ready to strike, though RK wondered if it was because he didn't know the extent of his own damages. At least he could read he was within Robotnik's lab, or what used to be his lab, anyway, which meant basic lines of communication were functioning. Opening his own lines, he watched the single red eye glow as he allowed the other bot to read his model number and basic information.

"Metal Series 03: Metal Knuckles... according to my database, you are inactive." The blue robot lifted the remaining clawed hand, pointing a finger and demanding, "Explain."

RK let out a puff of air and moved towards the computer, responding, "There isn't enough time in two timelines to explain everything. It'd be better if I just-” He stopped, however, when Metal Sonic moved back into a defensive position. "I'm not looking for a fight, Metal. You're badly damaged, let me help repair you."

"Where is Dr. Robotnik? I should report to him to be repaired."

RK's brows furrowed. Was his loyalty chip not destroyed in the blast, after all? Then again, it sounded more like Metal Sonic was working off a bare minimal programming rather than any active decision. He decided to test the waters. "Robotnik isn't present, you'll need to authorize your own repairs."

The red eye glowed. When it returned to normal, it looked towards the large computer and then back at RK, "authorization inaccessible. Refer to Dr. Robotnik for further analysis."

Inaccessible. Not outright denied. It was system damage, not the loyalty chip. "As I said, Robotnik isn't present, let me do an override so I can repair you. Power back down and I can continue your repairs." But once again, when he moved towards him, Metal Sonic went on the defensive. He wasn't going to make this easy, was he? "Don't make me fight you, Metal, even without your current damage I'd win."

"Is that a threat?"

"If you take it as one, it is."

Admittedly, he probably should have attempted to de-escalate the situation a bit better, rather than prompting a fight, but his need to punch something won out over his interest in keeping Metal whole. Thus, when the blue robot moved back into an attack stance after his comment, he responded with his own defensive one, planting himself firmly in place and egging the other robot to try his hand. It wasn't until the heavily off-balance, sparking bot was crashing into him that he was reminded how bad of an idea fighting him was. Watching even more pieces shatter and dent, and even some snap off when the much larger warbot smashed him back into the ground, RK decided to hold the other one down to avoid accidentally damaging him further.

Unfortunately, realizing he was at a distinct disadvantage, Metal Sonic shot off the apparently still active laser in the middle of his chest. It only grazed RK, as he rolled out of the way of it, but the sudden hole blasted through the roof of the lab and the house on top had RK ready to punch him a second time. He didn't have time for those kinds of repairs! And Chaos forbid anyone actually saw the beam of light that shot up through the middle of their house. Doubling down on his grip to keep the other bot in place, he felt a quick zap of electricity before the glowing red eye below him went dark again and Metal Sonic stopped clawing at his arm with his one remaining hand.

It took him a moment to calm back down, especially once a puff of snow fell all the way through down to the lab, but with a sigh and grunt, he pulled the now inactive bot up and over to the charging station. He wasn't sure if it was him or the use of the laser that caused Metal's short, or some other over-exertion that likely occurred, but he was equally concerned and relieved to see him quiet again. At least he had an idea of what happened and would be more careful with repairs. It seemed like his AI needed to be turned back on first.

“So did you do anything special over the break?”

A young mobian squirrel looked up from his backpack to face his friend, nodding, “Yeah, we went to visit some family out of town. How about you?” He pulled a notebook out and began scribbling, trying to pretend he was being productive while they talked.

His friend, a dark-furred bat, shrugged and responded, “Nah, we had family come here this time. My dad wanted to make this big adventure out of taking them to see Solaris’ shrine but there was some kind of attack the day we were supposed to go.”

“No way, what happened?”

“Some kind of weird monster appeared around the shrine and nearly destroyed it before it was driven off. I didn’t see it but I heard it was some kind of horned purple monster running rampant through the city.”

Itara turned an ear back towards the two classmates talking across the room. She’d been eavesdropping a little, but was about to stop when they mentioned an attack, assuming it was the one that happened in the shopping district. She had heard nothing about this monster, though. She would have to look further into it. Later. For the time being, she had to make it through the rest of the school day. The two continued chatting about the incident, eventually moving into holiday topics Itara cared little about, and thus put an end to her eavesdropping. Lunch was next, and then her robotics class after that, so she was closer to the easier half of the day.

As soon as the bell rang for lunch period, she packed up and, waiting until everyone else was gone as she always did, made her way out of the classroom. There were several grades in the one school so they did lunch in blocks of two or three, meaning she only had to deal with the third and fourth graders. She still preferred to be as far away from everyone as possible and it became considerably easier when RK packed her a lunch. She didn’t even have to go to the cafeteria, she could head directly for the stairs at the back of the building and avoid everyone.

Once she was out of sight of her fellow classmates and the teachers assigned to watch them, she reached back to open her backpack and let Kipper free, watching him float up beside her as she sat down on the bottom two steps.

“You really shoulda let me scare those kids in your class,” the doll huffed, floating around in front of her as she pulled her little wrapped lunch out of her bag and opened it to see what RK packed. “And clean your backpack better, it’s all cramped in there.”

“You’re the one who… followed me,” Itara stated, bored and poking at the bagel in her lunchbox.

“Well, yeah, cuz I thought you’d be more fun than Momma Bear.” When she gave him no response, he continued, “you hear those kids talkin’ about the attack down in the city? The one that almost destroyed your dad’s special little shrine? Bet that’s buggin’ ya.” He was looking to goad her into a fury and she knew it well enough.

“I did,” she frowned, setting the bagel back down after finally picking it up, “I want t-to look into it as soon as I can. But the computer room’s being used right now, so I’ll have to check later.” Looking over her lunch, she spotted the cookie packed underneath a pile of carrots and smiled, digging it out and munching on it immediately. There were still issues she was working out regarding her dad, but his shrine being attacked was too important for her to ignore. Could she convince RK to take her into that part of the city after school?

“What do you think it might have been, huh? Maybe Robotnik? Maybe Shadow remembered the past timelines and wants to destroy Mephiles before he can reappear?” Itara visibly hitched at the suggestion, getting a grin from the doll, “maybe there’s some new enemy looking to lure your dad out and fight him.”

Itara put the remains of her cookie down, staring off, her brows furrowed. ��Was it just a rampaging monster? Or was someone directly targeting her dad? Did her dad even know about it? He hadn’t answered her since before the reset, even after the flux in her powers. Maybe he was unaware of what was happening right now. Shaking her head, she picked her cookie back up, “I’ll ch-check after school.”

Realizing he wasn’t getting the response he wanted, Kipper huffed in annoyance and floated back down to sit on her backpack, “yeah, whatever. You weren’t more fun than the momma bear, after all.” She eyed him suspiciously, and then went back to her food, wanting to at least eat before lunch period ended.

On her way back, before the lunch bell rang again and Kipper was firmly stuffed into the bottom of her backpack, she caught sight of Sceira across the hall and narrowed her eyes, if only briefly. Before she could fully formulate a trick to play on her this time, she heard quiet whispers of monsters from the other side of the hall. Giving Sceira one final dirty look, Itara turned back around to follow the voices, realizing they were coming from the teacher’s lounge. Glancing around a quick moment, she pressed an ear up against the door to listen in on the conversation.

“…aren’t too far, are they?”

“Unfortunately not, no. It looks as though someone’s on its tail but if it doesn’t stop it could run right by the school. We should make sure the children stay inside until it passes.”

“First period lunch should be ending soon so we’ll just inform second and maybe third period that they need to remain inside during their lunches today due to the cold.”

“Yes, I think that’s best. Please let the other teachers know, I’ll keep an eye on its progress from here.”

Itara’s eyes narrowed, but when she heard footsteps coming towards the door, she scrambled away from it, catching her own foot in the process and going tumbling face-first into the floor as soon as the door opened. The teacher stared down at her, confused, while she remained in place for a moment, too embarrassed to move.

“Ms. Sheera, mind explaining yourself?”

Itara winced at the name but drew herself back to her feet, keeping her head down. It was her least favorite part of still going to this school. The constant reminder, all around her, right in her ‘name’, of the hedgehogs in the mansion. She did her best not to think about them, as it always caused a tightness in her chest that took hours to get rid of, but every time they used the last name she was enrolled with, every day when they took attendance, every single class, she couldn’t escape them. She couldn’t escape the fire she didn’t stop or even warn them about.

“S-sorry,” she stammered, keeping her eyes on the ground, “I j-just t-tripped when I was… as I was… passing by.”

Finally, the bell rang.

She could feel the teacher’s eyes on her, but she dared not look up, releasing her shoulders only when she heard them sigh and wave her on, “get on to your next class, then.” She nodded and turned to take off down the hall again, though watched her feet more carefully as she did, not wanting to trip twice. Her nose hurt plenty from the first time. On the way to class she huffed angrily and shook her head to rid herself of the thoughts, refocusing back on what she’d heard before her fumble. Something was headed for the school. Some kind of monster. Was it the same one that had attacked before? If she could just see the one coming towards the school, it might help her figure something out. She had to see it. Somehow.

But how far was it? Someone was chasing it, what if they caught it before she could see? She had to see, no matter what! If she could just get out class… but she wouldn’t even know which direction they would be coming from. There were telescopes set up on the roof for the astronomy club, if she could borrow one of those, maybe she’d be able to find it.

Perhaps a quick trip to the ‘bathroom’ was in order.

“You should have gone during lunch. We’re starting our projects right now, it’ll just have to wait.”

Itara mentally huffed, but nodded and turned on her heel to go to her work station. She would need another way out. Maybe she could ask Kipper to create a distraction. Reaching her work station, she looked over the hefty, broken robot lying across the table and the line of tools hung up around it. They had been studying the codes and basic mechanics of Robotnik’s discarded bots up until the winter break and were told they’d be working more hands-on once they got back. Itara had an idea what this ‘hands-on’ project was now.

Once class started and everyone was where they needed to be, the teacher confirmed her suspicions by explaining that they would be repairing these robots back to basic functionality. The core systems were removed so they were no longer Robotnik-loyal, so if they could get them functional again, they should basically be open-software chassis.

Suddenly. Itara had an idea.

Waiting just long enough for everyone to get started, she set her backpack up on the work table and informed Kipper of her plan quietly, using the clanking and casual conversations around the room as cover for her own. Once he got the point, she set to work figuring out what she had to work with and what all was removed from the previous system, glad she only had to create a few minutes of distraction and didn’t need to actually fully repair the bot. Her work on RK and Metal Sonic was about to come in handy in a new way, but she had to work fast to make sure she didn’t miss the monster. Luckily, Kipper had been pining to cause some trouble all day and this could offer him an opportunity, as well.

Getting the basic movement functions and systems online, she let Kipper know what the bot should be able to do at its limited functionality. With a quick warning about not causing too much damage, and only minor injuries to students were allowed, she let the ghost doll out of her pack and watched him disappear under the metallic skin. She got a quick glance around before the robot’s eyes lit up, sitting up on the desk after a quick test of its limbs, and moved to get up onto its thick, blocky feet. Itara feigned a jump back, catching the rest of the class’s attention, and as soon as the teacher moved forward to see what was going on, the robot lurched forward and swung with a long, clawed arm, sending both Itara and the teacher diving forward to avoid it.

“Itara! What happened?!”

“I-I d-don’t know!” There’s only a ghost possessing a repaired badnik. I have no idea what it could possibly be doing.

The lumbering metal screeched against unused joints and Itara dove under the work station to get out of view while the rest of the students ran for the opposite side of the room and the teacher made sure everyone was out of harm’s way. The red-eyed bot smashed through a nearby work station, sending parts and tools flying, causing further panic from the other students, giving Itara the opportunity to crawl away from her own and towards the further exit. With Kipper’s rampage keeping everyone distracted, even going so far as to go running towards a line of students and smashing the giant badnik into the wall when they moved, Itara was able to slip out of the classroom easily enough. She checked to make sure no one was coming yet before running for the nearest stairs, leaving the sounds of her classmate’s screams behind her. Hopefully she wouldn’t get in too much trouble, but if she had to she could play the ‘maybe all its systems weren’t removed properly’ card to keep suspicions off her. Of course, even if they had been left in, she likely could have still repaired it without the robot rampaging, but only RK would know that.

In the meantime, however, she needed to get to the roof. Everyone on the second and third floors were still in class so all she had to do was stay out of sight in the stairwell before reaching the roof. She also had to check that no one was on the roof, either, but if the teachers were keeping everyone inside she didn’t think there’d be anyone out there. Nonetheless, she gave a quick glance around once reaching it, nodded at the clear view, and ran out to where the telescopes were set up.

“Alright, now let’s see what we can find,” she stated aloud, pulling the cap and cover off while scanning the horizon. She still didn’t know which direction to look in… but it didn’t take long to figure out. In addition to the downright commotion coming from the city side of the road, the monster that was being chased was giving off a powerful, dark aura that Itara could not only feel getting closer, but she could see it racing at an unimaginable speed directly towards the school. There was also a line of G.U.N. foot soldiers chasing after it. “Gotcha.”

Lining the telescope up, she moved it around to zoom in on the creature. Just as her classmate described, the creature was lizard-like in shape and a deep purple and blue with a long spike coming out the front of its nose. It ran on all fours but its front ‘paws’ were noticeably thicker around than its back ones and it shot out the occasional spike from its back to keep its chasers at bay, along with a horrible squealing noise that caused Itara’s ears to pin at the sound.

“What is that, though? It almost looks like…” As she contemplated it, however, she lost sight of the creature as it ran around a thick tree and vanished. “Drat.” Moving the telescope around to try and catch it again, she only caught a quick glance here and there before it darted back out of sight again. From what she could tell it was darting around and between trees and the outer lying buildings around the school. The shouts of the G.U.N. soldiers started making their way to her as they drew near, though came as far off gibberish, rather than any kind of intelligible words. “Is it within the school grounds?”

Stepping back from the telescope, she walked to the railing, looking around for signs of the creature. Its aura was still powerful enough for her to sense so she knew it was nearby, but she couldn’t see it anywhere. She couldn’t even see its dark glow anymore. As she was turning to check the other side of the building, however, a heavy thud landed behind her, causing her to freeze, the furious growl sending her nerves into a frenzy.

Well. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d faced monsters down. Just because she could no longer summon her own didn’t mean anything. Letting out a shaking breath, she turned around to face the much larger-than-she-expected creature, eyeing her down with bright, glowing, red eyes. Its lip curled back to reveal a row of black teeth and let out another low snarl, standing up on its hind legs to tower even further over the tiny hedgehog.

Not even Iblis’ Biter had been quite so tall; though, it hadn’t stood on its hind legs at any point, either. At this distance, though, Itara became increasingly sure she knew who the monster belonged to… but not so much why it appeared. Unfortunately, she had no time to question further or study it as the monster reeled back, its red eyes narrowing, as it prepared to pounce.

“N-No! B-B-Bad Nightmare! D-Down!”

It gave no sign of understanding, however, as it only bared its black fangs once more and leapt. Itara quickly curled over, covering her head and preparing for the attack, knowing she had no hope of fighting back or running. Suddenly, a shot rang out and before Itara had time enough to uncurl, she felt herself being grabbed around the waist and lifted up and away from the crashing monster. She heard its roar as it smashed into the telescope, likely shattering it, and bashing into the metal railings. Another shot rang out, followed by a yelp and a second thud. Itara kept her eyes shut tight until she felt whoever picked her up land again and even then waited until she heard them speak before she dared open her eyes.

“You shouldn’t be up here.”

“S-Sorry,” she stammered, her eyes shooting open as she also recognized the deep, slightly irritated voice. She looked down at the red, black, and white shoes and long black and red legs above them and her ears pinned back in horror. Keeping her eyes glued to the ground, she debated how to handle the situation, though the other hedgehog set her down on the higher ground of the roof after a moment.

“It’s dead now, at least. You should get back to… class,” he continued, walking just ahead of her, talking quietly to himself as he wondered aloud, “something is happening around here, though. It may be best to keep an eye on things for now.”

Itara finally looked up, cautiously, at the tall black hedgehog with his back to her, studying him carefully with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t even talking to her. He had saved her, put her back down, and now had his back to her. Was it possible… not even Shadow remembered? Surely he could at least sense something? As curious as she was, she didn’t want to test her theory. Not now. Not here. The last time she was caught off-guard around Shadow, without RK anywhere near, it… didn’t end well for her. Instead, she only wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

But she also wanted answers about the monster.

She knew what they were… but she didn’t know why. Could Shadow possibly know? Did she even want to ask him to find out? Well, it could be for her dad’s sake, to find out. Then again… it was for her dad’s sake, what happened before. Did she want a repeat that badly? At some point Shadow had turned back towards her, though by the time she zoned in enough to realize, he was giving her a strange look and she worried, for a brief moment, that he might have remembered her suddenly.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he began, though sounded as irritated as ever instead of reassuring. In a way, that was reassuring. “That monster is dead and you’re fine. There’s no need to react like that.”

Itara quickly straightened her expression and looked down, not wanting to cause any sort of suspicion. “O-Of c-c-course,” she stammered, fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt to keep her hands busy. “I-I’m not… I didn’t… th-thank you.” That hurt to say. She knew it was common courtesy to thank someone for saving your life, not that she figured Shadow of all hedgehogs expected thanks, he only ever did exactly as he wanted and it was never for gratitude. But she didn’t want to come off as strange in any way, and instead started looking for a way off the roof to get as far away from him as possible.

Unfortunately, when he noticed her looking around, he walked back over to her, nearly sending her back into a panic. “I guess I should help you back down,” he sighed, picking her up around the waist again and jumping back down to the observation deck before setting her back down again. “There, now get out of here. I have work to do and I’m not interested in babysitting all day.”

Itara resisted a huff. She was no baby, she could watch after herself just fine. Mostly. But she only nodded and turned to run for the door leading back to the staircase… tripping on her feet once again and landing face first in the concrete. Stupid, stupid feet and their stupid tripping! Why couldn’t she just float?! Hearing a hum from behind her while she pushed herself back to her knees, she could no longer resist the glare she shot over her shoulder towards the black hedgehog, who turned away as soon as she did. He was laughing at her! Not out loud, but she could tell! She’d show him! …Someday. Again.

Having to take a quick, deep breath to calm herself, knowing emotional outbursts tended to cause her powers to flare, she took off for the door again. Her nose hurt again, but her ego hurt so much more. How dare that idiot laugh at her?!

Once she was inside, back in the shade of the dark stairwell, she sighed and sat down on the top step, wanting to let her mood subside before she went back to class. That Shadow. That stupid, stupid Shadow. Just because he saved her didn’t mean he got to laugh at her. She was relieved before that he didn’t seem to remember her, but now she greatly wished she could yell at him, berate him for not even knowing what the monster was. She knew. She saw the timeline it originally came from once. He was clearly inferior for not knowing. She would rant about this more later, to Kipper and RK. But, she supposed, for now, she should probably return to class. She didn’t know how long Kipper could keep up the distraction.

Sighing heavily again, she pushed herself back up, though slouched forward as she headed back down the staircase, glaring at the steps in front of her the entire way down. Her mood was soured and now she just wanted to go home. Besides, she wanted to see what RK thought about both the attack in the city, as well as the monster that attacked the school. She still wanted to see if she could convince him to take her into town to check out the shrine, itself, and see what else she could learn. Shadow had one thing right, at least—that she already knew of course—there was certainly something happening around here again.

Were the other Gods active?

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