#naz: glitter

[daphnemontagu]

For: @naz-ulusoy

It seemed ridiculous that Daphne had never met Naz in person until recently. Judas had talked about her on every other visit over the years, not to mention Daphne had watched the entire trial, but somehow the pair had yet to properly meet and Daphne had wanted to change that before Judas was released. She wanted them to have a good support system for when they came back, even if she was verging on being entirely over-bearing in the process.

After having met Naz a few times for coffee over the passing weeks to break the ice, Daphne sent her a message to arrange meeting at a craft store. It was a small store, which boded well for keeping them both away from well-populated areas. Since the hack, Daphne had been trying to keep herself to herself while she waded through the mess it had created. Not that going to greet a prisoner convicted of murder was going to help her image any, but she didn’t care much for that. She had always considered Judas her brother and no amount of public scrutiny would stop her from celebrating his release.

“I think we need more glitter.” Daphne announced, looking down at the several different colours they already had in the basket. “What do you think?”

[gobs-o-dice]

Dice Set #203: Glacial Moonstone Silver (Green)

Okay, so, you might have been wondering (to the extent that anyone is paying that much attention to things here), back during Sets 197, 198, and 199, why there was no "Winter Solstice" set. And you might be wondering about the name.

Well, back when Die Hard Dice first released that line of dice, it was specifically as a counterpart to their existing Moonstone dice, such as Purple Moonstone (my Set #90) or Moonstone Dreamwalker (Set #133)

But in this case, the main one to look at is Set #130 - Glacial Moonstone, as I called it:

(I probably would have used "Blue" in that name somewhere, now, but at the time, it was the only one I planned on getting)

There's your wintery counterpart to complete the set of seasons.

But then, Christmas holiday deals come around, and I get today's set out of their holiday bundle, along with tomorrow's set. So, nice, more winter dice.

"But Gobs/Naz/Jeff," you might ask [Re-Ask. Remember, I said you asked about it in the framing device above too :p] - "Why do you have 'Green' in parentheses in the name you have for this set?"

Well... Let me tell you:

Sometime Later, I got a second set of Glacial Moonstone Silver as a bonus set when I ordered from Die Hard. I was content to just call that one "Second Glacial Moonstone Silver" (Set #257, to be precise about order, if not timing) and accept that inevitably, the two sets would become intertwined during a hoardscape shoot, and I would never know which was which, originally.

(Set 1 above, Set 2 below)

But...

During cleanup of some hoardscape/other photo session of some sort, I noticed something. It's a little tricky to capture with still images, though.

(Set 1 above, Set 2 below, again)

Can you see it?

Now - Both sets of dice are made from the same white acrylic that has a green tint to it under direct light, or might pick up some warmer orange hints from the light itself. That's not the green I refer to in the name. The second set got the addition "(Pink)" to its name

On DHD's site, they currently describe the Glacial Moonstone with Silver set as having a "light green and blue shimmer", which holds pretty true for the first one:

But for whatever reason, my second set has a definitely more pink shimmer to it:

It's much, much more obvious when the sets are in-motion - To the point that I'm pretty reasonably certain of which dice belong to which set.

I even had gone back and confirmed it by looking at their sets of photos, because they definitely were taken before the two sets ever could have intermingled. Like I say, it's much more obvious in motion, but you definitely can see the pink in the second set and the green-blue in the first one, though it's less obvious.

My guess? The batch of dice this set is from was either an experiment that they didn't pursue further, or perhaps a screw-up in the factory - Pink glitter being used instead of the regular blue-green glitter.

And since DHD is in the habit of including bonus sets with all their orders (well, was anyway - I don't know if they still do, haven't ordered from them in a long while), they used the pink-glitter Glacial Moonstones as the freebie for my order and presumably others from around that time.

So, yeah, that's storytime for tonight, I suppose.

[ireadyabooks]

Read with Pride Love Stories Perfect for Valentine’s Day! 💟🌈

Believe it or not, Valentine’s Day is right around the corner! It’s the perfect time of year to grab a romantic read and fantasize about your own Valentine. At I read YA, we believe everyone deserves to see themselves represented in all aspects of life so we’ve put together a list of some of our favorite queer romances for you to add to your shelf during this season of love! We hope you fall in love with these sweet reads just as much as we have!

Stars in Their Eyes by Jessica Walton & Aśka 

Maisie is on her way to Fancon! She's looking forward to meeting her idol, Kara Bufano, the action hero from her favorite TV show, who has a lower-leg amputation, just like Maisie. But when Maisie and her mom arrive at the convention center, she is stopped in her tracks by Ollie, a cute volunteer working the show. They are kind, charming, and geek out about nerd culture just as much as Maisie does. And as the day wears on, Maisie notices feelings for Ollie that she's never had before. Is this what it feels like to fall in love?

Start reading Stars in Their Eyes now! 

Love Letters for Joy by Melissa See

Less than a year away from graduation, seventeen-year-old Joy is too busy overachieving to be worried about relationships. She’s determined to be Caldwell Prep’s first disabled valedictorian. And she only has one person to beat, her academic rival Nathaniel.

But it’s senior year and everyone seems to be obsessed with pairing up. One of her best friends may be developing feelings for her and the other uses Caldwell’s anonymous love-letter writer to snag the girl of her dreams. Joy starts to wonder if she has missed out on a quintessential high school experience. She is asexual, but that’s no reason she can’t experience first love, right?

She writes to Caldwell Cupid to help her sort out these new feelings and, over time, finds herself falling for the mysterious voice behind the letters. But falling in love might mean risking what she wants most, especially when the letter-writer turns out to be the last person she would ever expect.

Start reading Love Letter for Joy now! 

Heartstopper  Volume 5 by Alice Oseman

Boy meets boy. Boys become friends. Boys fall in love. The bestselling LGBTQ+ graphic novel about life, love, and everything that happens in between: this is the fifth volume of the much-loved HEARTSTOPPER series, featuring gorgeous two-color artwork.

Nick and Charlie are in love. They’ve finally said those three little words, and Charlie has almost persuaded his mum to let him sleep over at Nick’s house. He wants to take their relationship to the next level... but can he find the confidence he needs? And with Nick going off to university next year, is everything about to change?

Start reading Heartstopper Volume 5 now!

What a Desi Girl Wants by Sabina Khan

Mehar hasn’t been back to India since she and her mother moved away when she was only four. But when her father announces his engagement to socialite Naz, Mehar reluctantly agrees to return for the wedding. While her father still doesn’t make the time for her, Mehar barely cares once she meets Sufiya, her grandmother’s assistant, and one of the most grounded, thoughtful, kind people she’s ever met! Meanwhile, Mehar’s dislike for Naz and her social media influencer daughter, Aleena, deepens. Mehar’s starting to think that putting a stop to this wedding might be the best thing for everyone involved.But what happens when telling her father the truth about Naz and Aleena means putting her relationship with Sufiya at risk . . .

Start reading What a Desi Girl Wants now!

Sixteen Souls by Rosie Talbot

Sixteen-year-old Charlie Frith has problems. His crush is dating someone else, his sisters have glitter-bombed his prosthesis (again), and he's a seer-of-spirits in York, the most haunted city in England, and all his friends are ghosts.

To make matters worse, it seems that famous spirits are mysteriously vanishing from York's haunted streets and alleys. Charlie is determined to stay out of it, but Sam, the irritating new seer in town, expects him to track down who -- or what -- is responsible and uncover the dark purpose behind these disappearances.

But when one of Charlie's ghostly friends vanishes, he has no choice but to face the shadows -- and his growing feelings for Sam. The boys must be willing to risk it all to save York’s spirits, because this adversary will stop at nothing to complete their devastating plan. Afterlives are at stake, and Charlie is running out of time . . . 

Start reading Sixteen Souls now!

The Feeling of Falling in Love by Mason Deaver

Just days before spring break, Neil Kearney is set to fly across the country with his childhood friend (and current friend-with-benefits) Josh, to attend his brother's wedding—until Josh tells Neil that he's in love with him and Neil doesn't return the sentiment.

With Josh still attending the wedding, Neil needs to find a new date to bring along. And, almost against his will, roommate Wyatt is drafted.

At first, Wyatt (correctly) thinks Neil is acting like a jerk. But when they get to LA, Wyatt sees a little more of where it's coming from. Slowly, Neil and Wyatt begin to understand one another . . . and maybe, just maybe, fall in love for the first time . . .

Start reading The Feeling of Falling in Love now!

[armadastimz]

Lil Nas X

X . X . X

X . X . X

X . X . X

[burkymakar]

andre + being a girl dad for hc!

ummm u mean my dream???

Andre is such peak Dad Material™ and he would love your child no matter what, but when your daughter is born, he’s absolutely thrilled

As soon as she can stand, he puts her in skates, and teaches her how to play with mini-sticks

They have the same celly from the ground when she scores a goal

Your daughter will immediately love skating but she also loves tea parties

every time Andre comes back from a road trip, he spends several hours playing Tea Party with her, dressed in a tiara and makeup she puts on him

you take her to every game you can, and she always wears his jersey but insists on also wearing a tutu and it is a look

for family skate, all the other Avs Babies practically adopt her, i can imagine Linnea being very protective of your and Burky’s daughter

and omg the talks he and Landy and Naz would have as girl dads!!! so cute

coming back from late nights from work or friends to see him sleeping on the couch with your daughter on his chest, looking like cuddle bugs

lots of fun family costumes for Halloween

he often has sparkles in his curls because your daughter would insist on glitter everything if possible

teaching her swedish!!! having a bilingual (or multi-lingual if you also speak multiple languages) household no matter where you are

i just imagine him as being very caring

can i give this man a daughter already like damn??? 

[floydig]

tag game!!

rules: answer the following and tag some people you want to get to know better. If you don’t want to answer certain ones, that’s ok! :)

@royaldynazty thank you so much for the tag naz!!! I love doing these :) 💗

name: Floyd

gender: female

star signs: Aries

height: 5’5

wallpaper: my phone wallpaper? it’s a Pink Floyd album cover

house: I think I’d be ravenclaw or a squib

ever had a crush on a teacher: LMAO never romantically, but I’ve had some hot professors 🔥 😍

coolest halloween costume: A giant blue m&m !!!

fav 90’s tv show: cheating a little, my fav 90s movie is The Addams Family

last kiss: LOL like over a year ago (it was a breakup kiss 🥴 )

fav pair of shoes: my light blue tennis shoes

been to las vegas: nah. Lake Tahoe is cool though 😁😁

fav fruit: nectarines, strawberries

fav book: I’ll go with Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest :) (even though it’s more like love/hate but that’s ok)

stupidest thing i’ve ever done: Probaby not the stupidest, but one time i ate a wax candle because i thought it was candy (I misread the label, ok?)

all time fav shows: Leverage (insert fire Elmo), Grimm, sherlock, shameless,

last movie i saw in theaters: i genuinely don’t remember. Maybe one of those avengers ones.

tagging @crazybutgood @drarrystan22 @glittering-git @bisexualronaldweasley (no pressure, only if you want to 💗) and whoever else wants to :)

[venividavici]

⌠ DANNA PAOLA, 25, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, VIDA TORRES! according to their records, they’re a GRADUATE FOURTH year, specializing in SEDUCTION AND FLIRTATION + ADVANCED ENCRYPTION; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (glittering accessories, perfect nails clacking on a keyboard, high-end perfume you can only smell once you’re just close enough). when it’s the cancer’s birthday on 06/23/95, they always request their TINGA MEXICANA from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

                                         𝕘𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝

ACCESS: GRANTED FILE NAME: TORRES, V.; 25; MEXICAN-AMERICAN

Vida Torres was raised by a legacy family. Sergio Torres and Nadia Bautista both came from legacy families as well-- Sergio’s mother and Nadia, as well as Nadia’s mother, both graduated form Gallagher Academy itself. Growing up alongside her twin brother, Hale, she only ever knew a deep love for her family. She was at a young age, and after a careful and respectable upbringing, told about their family secret: she was actually apart of a family of spies. More so, if she chose it, she could follow in their footsteps and become one too. Vida couldn’t say yes fast enough.

She had always been ambitious and quick-witted, a fact she could tell her parents were proud of. Bringing home the best grades and growing into stunning looks was Vida’s way of making sure they always loved her and were happy to call her their own. Maybe that was a bit unhealthy, but the love was there nonetheless, so what did it really matter?

After excelling in school, she was enrolled into a great preparatory school for spies for her high school career. Vida thrived there. She learned how to command a room with the bat of an eye, and wield a gun with the delicacy of a paintbrush. Even though her family’s legacy blood ran through her veins, it was obvious this is what she was born to do regardless.

After graduation, she and her family decided it would be best to take a few years off and develop her skills privately before applying for Gallagher Academy. Though Vida agreed to it, because it was what her parents told her to do, she couldn’t deny it killed her inside a bit. Gallagher was the golden standard, the place she had been working all her life to get into to follow in her mother’s footsteps. The fact that she couldn’t yet enroll only sparked the growing fear that she wasn’t yet good enough. So, in the next years, she spent every waking moment working on her skills and training to become the best she could be.

Perhaps her family had made the right call after all. By the time she turned 21, ready to apply for Gallagher, Vida was as sharp as a snake, and just as deadly, earning her the nickname ‘the Viper’. She was in her element now, finally walking the halls of the prestigious school she had always dreamed of going to among peers she cared for and respected. Vida was living the dream.

That was, until Gallagher decided to allow boys in. It’s not like she hates men, she just believes the school endured so much and established so much in its years, all while being unapologetically female. It was something she was so proud to be a part of-- plus the girls were so used to their regular dynamics, why throw boys into the mix? It doesn’t help that some boys are just so... ugh. You can catch Vida being very vocal about her distaste for their presence here.

The only boy she could never truly fault for anything, and is actually so excited to have at school, is of course her darling brother, Hale. The two practically raised each other, and Vida knew that no matter what they argued over or got themselves into, she loved her brother unconditionally.

In any case, Vida is determined to finish her final year in the best standing possible, ready to take on the world with her family name and her own fire.

TL;DR - THE FACTS

Vida is a legacy student of the Torres (and Bautista) family, and is twin sister to Hale

she’s super ambitious and (mostly) sure of herself, which can either be admirable or a bit of a pain

she’s extroverted, but can be known to be a bit much from time to time

went to a spy prep school, and then took three years of extra training before going to Gallagher at age 21

loves the school, including the female camaraderie, and is very annoyed that boys are now accepted

will do anything for her brother-- if you cross him, you cross her

SENIOR YEAR, BABEY; Vida is trying to graduate as the best possible version of herself

CONNECTIONS

Emmett Blackthorne

Jude Park

Aylin Kaleli, Noah Ward, Naz Farhi, Briar Escarra

Amelia Taylor

Claire Walsh

Grayson Berkshire

this has again been strud, i’m slowly coming out of my shell, pls message me here on tumblr or on discord so we can plot uwu!!

[you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus]

Cyrus’ Dictionary

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10

Summary: Cyrus has always been good with words; there’s a reason English is his favorite subject. But with TJ, he seems to be at a loss for words. When they get paired up for a summer assignment, Cyrus slowly starts to build a new dictionary. One that involves TJ and everything they do together. Along the way, maybe he’ll find the words to tell him how he feels.

Chapter 10: Naz

Word Count: 3292

Read on AO3

Buffy paced around her room, waiting for the ringing on the phone to stop.

“Hello?” came Cyrus’ voice from the other end.

“We have a problem,” she muttered, plopping down on her bed.

“Oh? Is everything okay?” Cyrus asked, his brows furrowing together.

“Marty told me he loves me,”

Cyrus nearly choked on his own spit. “He did?”

Buffy nodded, even though Cyrus couldn’t see her. “And it was totally out of the blue, like we were literally playing Mario Kart,” she explained, “and I was just so shocked and taken aback. So I just left,”

“Yikes,” Cyrus mumbled, much to the displease of Buffy.

“Not helping. What do I do?” she asked, playing with a lock of her hair.

“Well, do you love him?”

Buffy paused, and Cyrus almost thought that she’d hung up. “I-I don’t know. I’m not sure,”

“Tell him that,” he offered her, “feelings can be really hard and silence can be worse than the truth,”

“You’re probably right,” she said, “so, you and TJ?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.

Cyrus froze, inhaling sharply. “What are you talking about?”

“Your text seemed off,” she stated.

“Nah, things are good, I’m good, we’re good,” he rambled, his face scrunching up as he spoke.

“Oo, you gonna hang out with him again?” she cooed, and even though Cyrus couldn’t see her, he knew she was smirking.

“Yeah, we’re going to the fair in town,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Not sure how that’s gonna go with his mom,”

“What do you mean?”

“Long story. I’ll talk to you later?” Cyrus offered.

“Talk to me after your date,” Buffy chuckled, grinning widely.

“I love you and I hate you,” he said, hanging up and putting his phone in his pocket.

“Stay still, I’m gonna screw it up!” Walker insisted, pouting.

“But it tickles,” Jonah countered, looking up at him with a big grin. He put his hands under his legs, trying to keep himself from squirming and ruining Walker’s face paint job.

“Bi the way, you look great with this,” Walker joked, to which Jonah replied with finger-guns.

“And you look pan-tastic. . .that was awful, I’m sorry,” he shook his head, peering in the mirror to admire Walker’s work, “it’s so pretty! I love it,”

Walker beamed, taking Jonah’s hand and rushing down the stairs. “Mom, we’re ready to go!”

Walker’s mom hurried into the room. “Well don’t you boys look lovely,” she remarked, ushering them out the door, “you know if anything happens to call me, right?”

“Right, we will,” Walker promised, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, “love you!”

The couple walked down the street, hand in hand, until they saw the big arch of rainbow balloons. Flags in every size and color danced in the wind, people threw confetti everywhere, and the whole environment looked a little hectic, but loving nonetheless.

“You ever been to pride before?” Walker asked, squeezing through the crowd to try and get a better view for the parade.

Jonah shook his head. “Never, what’s it like?”

“It’s like someone threw up the world’s biggest rainbow, then doused it in glitter,” he joked, “it’s really great,”

The parade was up and running by the time they got there. There was a bi float, to which Jonah screamed at the top of his lungs about. Someone on the float tossed him a little pin that said ‘I like my men how I like my women’. Sure, they were getting jostled and bumped around, but Jonah wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything in the world. Confetti filled the air, as did whoops of applause, when a proposal took place on one of the floats, and everyone collectively lost their minds.

“This is so great!” Walker cheered, turning towards Jonah, who had a small, telling smile on his face, “what?”

“. . .I love you,” he said softly, thinking the words would get lost in the cacophony of the parade.

Walker grinned, tears brimming from his eyes. “I love you too, you know. I was . . .gonna tell you, but I was afraid you were gonna freak out,”

Jonah cupped Walker’s face, bringing their noses together. “You absolute dork,” he mumbled, pecking his lips. People around them joined in with a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’, a few clapping the boys on the back and telling them they were adorable together. Everything was going so well.

Until a certain middle-aged woman was walking down the street and was able to pick out her son from the crowd.

“Jonah!” a shrill voice stood out from all the others, “Jonah what are you doing here?”

His blood ran cold. He felt like he was going to faint or cry or throw up or all three. Luckily, Walker was there holding his hand, and telling him things were going to be okay. People around Jonah and Walker stared at the woman.

“C’mon, let’s go,” she said, holding out her hand.

Jonah opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. By this point, more and more people had gathered around him, whispers and murmurs tearing through the crowd.

“With all due respect, Mrs. Beck,” Walker piped up, ever the brave one, “he’s gonna stay with me. I really care about him and,” he looked at Jonah, smiling softly, “I know he really cares about me,”

“But. . .you’re both boys?” she hesitated, all of a sudden feeling quite uncomfortable in her situation.

“Good catch, lady,” someone from the crowd called out, earning a few ‘woos’ and applause.

“So?” Jonah said, trying to stand his ground, “Mom, I love him. Isn’t that all that matters?”

Jonah’s mom looked at Walker, conflicted, as if trying to ask him for answers, but his face read ‘don’t look at me’.

“Wouldn’t you rather have a happy son who loves a boy rather than a sad one who pretends to love a girl?” said someone else, offering some advice.

She took a few steps forward, parting through the crowd to get to her son. “Jonah,” she started, putting her hands on his shoulder, “I love you no matter what, you know that right?”

And at that, Jonah collapsed into her arms and started to cry. Happy tears, sad tears, all the tears. Cheers and applause ensued, but all Jonah could think about was how happy he was to finally have this weight lifted off of his chest.

When his mom pulled away, she looked at Walker. “So, you’re the artist?”

Walker ducked his head, trying to hide the ever-growing blush on his cheeks. “How do you know?”

“Jonah has a drawing you did in his room,” she supplied, to which Jonah groaned of embarrassment, “and that’s my cue to leave. I’ll catch you boys later,” she said, walking off.

“You have a drawing I did in your room?” Walker asked, a soft smile gracing his face.

Jonah nodded. “The one you did of me in the park that day. It’s always been my favorite,”

Walker grinned, slinging an arm around him. He opened his mouth to say something, but then what seemed like a pound of glitter rained down on them.

“Happy pride, you’re never getting the glitter out of your hair,” Walker chuckled.

“Worth it,” Jonah assured him, grinning like an idiot.

“Yes!” TJ pumped his fist in the air, after he’d sunk the last basket.

“Surprise, surprise, ladies and gents, TJ Kippen can shoot basketballs,” Cyrus teased, poking his shoulder.

TJ ignored him, pointing to the plush dinosaur behind the man. “For you,”

Cyrus looked from the stuffed animal to TJ. “Really?”

TJ nodded. “Of course. You love dinosaurs, so it only makes sense that I’d give it to you,”

“It’s also a stuffed animal and I’m 16 years old,”

“I can easily take that away from you. I will turn this prize around,” he threatened with mock authority, crossing his arms.

Cyrus sighed, tucking the dino under his arm. “Thanks,” he muttered, kicking the ground.

TJ frowned, trying to meet his gaze. “Do you not like it? I can pick something else,”

Cyrus shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I just. . .I wish I could win you something, but my lack of hand-eye coordination impedes that desire,”

TJ rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, most of these games are probably math driven,” he insisted, peering at the booths, “darts?”

“Sure, we’ll just end up in the ER when I inevitably forget which direction to throw it in,” Cyrus mused, following TJ.

“I’ll help you,” he offered, handing the lady behind the booth a few tickets, and getting a few darts in return, “take the first shot. I’ll hold your beloved dinosaur,”

Cyrus picked up one of the darts with extreme caution. He shut one eye, trying to gauge where he should throw it. After a few intense moments of concentration, he threw it, and it hit the board and landed on the ground.

“Help?” TJ offered, setting the plush animal aside and coming up beside him, holding the dart in both their hands, “so, just pinch it like this,” he said, moving Cyrus’ fingers in the right position, electricity zipping through him with each touch.

Cyrus felt like he almost couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t even know why. Was there something in the air? Was it some weird summer curse? Either way, the next thing he knew was that the dart had left his hands and the balloon popped.

“Hey, you did it!” TJ cheered, ruffling his hair gently, “told you,”

Cyrus pointed to a small, plush basketball, thanking the lady. “For you,”

TJ beamed, picking it up like it was his own child. “I love it, thank you,”

Cyrus shrugged, grabbing his dinosaur as they walked. “Doesn’t begin to compare to this, but I’m glad you like it,”

“Cyrus?” a voice called, followed by a slew of excited squeals.

“Amber, hey!” he greeted, “ and Andi. What are you guys doing?”

“We’re going to recreate Love, Simon,” Andi said, pointing to the ferris wheel.

“Ah,” TJ nodded sagely, “round and round the lesbians go, where they stop, nobody knows,”

Cyrus chuckled, holding out his dino. “Look what TJ won for me!”

Amber raised her brows, giving her brother a knowing look. “Wow, that’s really special. He must have really known you’d like that,”

“Well look at what Cyrus got me,” TJ said through gritted teeth, “it’s a basketball because he knows I love it,”

Andi looked between the two Kippens, trying to figure out what was going on. “Should we head towards the ferris wheel? Recreate that iconic scene,” she said, taking Amber’s hand and running to the line.

“I want that,” Cyrus sighed, hugging the dino to his chest sweetly.

“To go on the ferris wheel?” TJ nearly squeaks out, “yeah, let’s do it,” he says with the least amount of confidence possible.

Cyrus grabs TJ’s hand, tugging him along and catching up to Amber and Andi. The girls and Cyrus talked about the movie for a little while, Cyrus gushing about the lighting and the cinematography, while Amber just kept repeating the word ‘gay’ over and over.

When they got towards the front of the line, Cyrus handed the man tickets for him and TJ, and they both took their seats, their respective prizes on the outside of the seats. The man started the ride, and the boys weren’t even three feet on the ground when TJ squeezed his eyes shut.

“Would this be a bad time to tell you I’m afraid of heights?” he muttered, feeling something gentle rest on his hand that was gripping the bar for dear life.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Cyrus assured him, “open your eyes. You don’t have to look down, just look at me,”

TJ slowly fluttered his eyes open, the first thing he saw being Cyrus’ hand on his. His gaze trailed up to his face, meeting his eyes; gosh, he could drown in those.

“Hey,” Cyrus whispered, scooting a little closer to TJ.

“Hey,” TJ said back, heart pounding, his breath coming in quick breaths, not because of the ferris wheel. He’d forgotten that he was so high above the ground. “I’m kinda weak, aren’t I,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Cyrus frowned. “You know I’d love you no matter what,” he said, biting his tongue, “I mean, you know like, I-I love all my friends, like how friends love each other,” he stammered, exhaling.

“Oh. Yeah. Me too,” TJ replied, suddenly remembering he was on the ride, and clenching the bar a little tighter.

When they reached the bottom, TJ grabbed his basketball and flew off the seat. Cyrus took his dino, and walked off calmly, laughing as he caught up to TJ; the kind of laugh that made you dizzy with excitement. While TJ took a moment to catch his breath, Cyrus pulled out his phone and googled:

being loved no matter what

He opened his notes, and jotted down the word quickly so he wouldn’t forget.

naz: the pride that comes with knowing that you are loved no matter what you do

Amber and Andi stumbled off the ferris wheel, both laughing and smiling like two idiots.

“You two okay?” TJ asked, having regained his sense of safety.

“We’re good, just gay,” Amber supplied, squeezing Andi’s hand, “and also kind of tired and ready to go home,”

TJ nodded, turning to Cyrus. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Cyrus agreed, walking in the opposite direction with Andi, as Amber and TJ headed home.

“So how was your date?” Amber cooed, batting her lashes at her brother.

TJ pushed her, making her stumble a little. “It wasn’t a date,”

Amber stopped dead in her tracks, grabbing TJ by the wrist. “It was literally Love, Simon, you dumbass gay disaster,”

TJ rolled his eyes, tugging his arm away from her. “So, how was your date?”

Amber shrugged, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. “It was a sort-of date. We both like each other but are trying to keep this under wraps, you know?”

TJ nodded. “Yeah, I know. . .mom stuff,”

“Speaking of which, what did you tell her about this ordeal?” Amber asked, the two of them rounding the corner and walking down the street.

“I said we were going to the fair, just you and me,” he supplied.

“We need a selfie to prove it,” Amber decided, “my phone’s dead,”

“Fine, fine, I guess we can use mine,” he mumbled, unlocking it and clicking through. He accidentally selected photos instead of camera, and the picture of him and Cyrus in the Christmas shop popping up. Just his luck.

Amber’s jaw dropped, making incoherent noises as TJ tried to close the image, but Amber was holding onto his phone like death. “Oh my gosh, you guys are literally so cute,” she finally said, nearly fangirling over the picture.

“I mean I already know that Cyrus is adorable so,” TJ shrugged, giving into the fact that Amber was never going to let this go.

“No, like, you guys are legitimate couple goals,”

“Not a couple,”

“Yet,” Amber replied, not missing a beat.

“So,” Andi started, plucking a fry from the basket, “you and TJ?”

Cyrus groaned, bringing his forehead down onto the table. “Why does everyone phrase it like that, like we’re dating! We’re not!”

Andi was taken aback, chewing on her fries in confusion. “I just meant that you guys were having a fun time here, but dating, okay, let’s go there,”

“Let’s not,” Cyrus pleaded, picking his head up.

“Too late,” Andi chuckled.

Cyrus pouted, crossing his arms. “I don’t wanna talk about ‘us’,” he groaned, using air quotes.

“I’m, like ninety-nine percent sure he likes you, Cy,” Andi insisted, drumming her fingers on the table, “have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“. . .yeah, right, whatever,” Cyrus mumbled, taking another fry from the basket.

“I’m serious,”

“Hush,”

“But do you like him?”

And there it was; the loaded question that was there lurking in the shadows, but now it was on full display. He really didn’t want to answer, because heck, he didn’t even know how to answer it. So he stayed silent.

“Aha! So you do like him!” Andi clapped her hands together.

“I never said that! TJ’s my best friend,” Cyrus defended, taking the last fry in defiance.

“Cyrus, be honest. You don’t think that there could be something more there?” she asked, searching his face for some sort of answer.

“. . .no,” Cyrus said meekly, almost like he was disappointed, but not quite. His voice didn’t wobble, and he said it with as much confidence as he could.

Andi shrugged, tossing the empty basket into the trash can. “Whatever you say,” she chirped, getting up from her seat, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cy,”

He gave her a wave as a good-bye, and turned his attention back to the ferris wheel, watching people go around and around. Couples, kids, parents with their little ones, all smiling and laughing. He sighed, silently hoping that one day he’d get to do that with someone special.

6/25

Today Cyrus and I went to the fair, and it was so much fun! I played a basketball game and won him a dinosaur, and he played a dart game and gave me the stuffed basketball he won. Well, in truth I helped him a little bit, but his face when I said ‘you did it!’ was priceless. We ran into Amber and Andi, and we all went on the ferris wheel. Admittedly, I’m afraid of heights, but Cyrus was there with me, telling me that things were okay, and to just look at him, which helped. I was worried he’d think I’m weak, but he said he’d love me no matter what. You know, like friends do.

TJ sighed, shutting his journal and setting it on his nightstand. That little moment had meant everything to him, and even if he wanted it to go further or mean something more, deep down, he knew it didn’t. It was just a thing friends said to each other, like when Amber would text Cyrus and end the conversation with ‘love you!’.

[Underdog <3: so for tmrw, there’s free painting classes where the art gallery was that day! do you wanna come?]

TJ smiled, butterflies erupting in his stomach no matter how hard he tried to quell them.

[Me: totally! when is it?]

[Underdog <3: around noon, sound good?]

[Me: i’m there]

TJ turned off the lamp on his nightstand, shutting his eyes and trying to go to sleep. But even though it was late, and he was relatively tired, he couldn’t stop thinking. Thinking of Cyrus. Thinking about what they ‘were’. Friends, he supposed. Best friends.

6/25

TJ and I went to the fair today and it was so much fun! He won me this giant dinosaur stuffed animal and I love it! It’s sitting in my chair in my room right now. I tried to win him a stuffed basketball with a game of darts, but he helped me so much that he basically won it. We saw Amber and Andi there, and then all four of us went on the ferris wheel and it was so much fun! It was kinda dark when we were at the top, but I could still see TJ’s green eyes. They’re pretty nice.

And there it was again; Cyrus focusing on TJ’s eyes. “It’s a normal thing,” he told himself, flipping to the back and jotting down the notes he’d written in his phone. Naz. What a lovely word to describe him and TJ. They would love each other no matter what. Love, like friends do, of course. Because that’s what they were.

Friends.

Tag List: @shortstackofpeaches || @seanna313 || @geekingbeautytx || @heavenlybyers || @ginnychrises|| @wlwandimack || @giocondasstuff || @lemonboytyrus || @adorejrizzle || @swingsetboys || @ifellintotyrushell || @idk-dude-17 || @rbf-lesbian || @marianara-sauce || @kaptainjinxz || @alex-poster-pizz || @quietmarvel || @blueberry-my-hero-macadamia || @broadwayitbitch || @tjsmuffin || @tjthekippen || @idpleasesir || @hi-hello-hey-there || @bingewatchingenthusiast|| @booklove-2 || @illbeyourreasonwhy || @birdiesandflowers || @whistlepunk || @phinallyjackie || @thedampjofangirl || @tyrus4eva || @tj-is-a-lemony-boy || @tj-goodman-bittersweet-boy || @dis-app-oin-tme-nt || @nessarinthegay || @breadisticks || @typewriter-riz || @gobletofash || @bluemuffinboy || @sofuuh || @cheesystars || @tjmuffin || @multifandom-bxitch || @allylovessadie || @hithatsmyname || @tyrusinarush || @tyrus-lookback ||

[jeinu]

A commission for Naz’s Rifts character, Leon, shown with his Glitter Boy armor!

[alisamaefawn394]

It’s that time of the year where I buy loads more phone cases again even though I don’t need themmmm🤪🤪 none of them are really indicative of who I am anymore I guess? And I also now shall only use flip cover ones because I’m so used to it by now.

I have:

A purple & green & black Advanced Potion Making phone case whic is a flip cover and my current case and I’ve had it on for months

Another Harry Potter case but it’s clear plastic with cartoon characters on the back and glitter floating around

A flimsy and scratched clear plastic one with my name etched upon it in white

A yellow case with flowers on it (slightly more protective)

And an ackley bridge case that says “#justsaying” with a b&w picture of Naz and Missy which I got for my birthday last year because I LOVE ackley bridge

Idk I just feel like I need more. I’d love to use the ackley bridge one again but since it’s so famous now I’d just be made out like a sheep.

[sun-avenue]

shot.tales.//0.1.

                                                  2019. NAZ. 

“Seven years after everything that happened between us, the only thing I still expected from you was closure. Not an apology, not even a drunk text message at 2AM saying how much I was missed; just an ending. Unfortunately, for both of us, there wasn’t even a proper beginning to start with – so I think asking for a proper ending would be asking for too much. Didn’t make me want it any less, though.

 If stares could kill, you would be dead by now. I glued my eyes on the back of your head, completely unaware of the real world around me. Your dark locks were up in meticulously arranged in a bun, tied up together with a fancy hair clip, allowing your bare shoulders to make a rare appearance in a dress that fitted you too well. Strong shoulders, the ones that you used to hate as a consequence of years of swimming. Shoulders I used to love to cry on. Do you still not like them? Would I still feel safe with my head against them? I haven’t wondered about all that for awhile now, but seeing you in front of me, so close, yet so far, brought it all back - like a cold wave on a late-night walk on the beach.

 People around us were still making small talk. Cheers were beginning to sound way too loud for a classy event like that. But I wasn’t hearing a thing. After all this time, that girl three tables away still had the power to invade my memories and make me remember everything I had been trying to forget. It also made me regret all my decisions in the past years. That was the type of vulnerability I didn’t want to deal with – not here, not right now. It wasn’t enough to make me look away. God, it wasn’t even enough to make me feel sorry about myself and just get out of there before you could actually see me. I wondered what would take for me to actually give up and just forget.

You still look the same. Of course I would notice that, even though the back of your head was all that I could see from that far. I knew that head - and all the rest of the body that sustained it - all too well. Honestly, I think I will never be able to forget one single detail, doesn’t matter how much I try. I also notice the way your bright yellow dress hugs your curves just right, like a modern live-action version of Belle before dancing with the Beast. I wished I could tell you that the shining color of your dress matches your personality. I still can’t see your face, but I bet all my money that your big  brown-greenish eyes are sparkling with glitter, and your full, drawn-by-hand lips are painted in a pastel shade of pink. Maybe you were too predictable. But maybe I just knew everything about you that was possible to be known.”

 People started to clap again and I was forced back to the real world - a world that didn’t look real at all. Two seconds ago it was just me and her all over again, but now old men were dressed in Armani suits and rich ladies walking around with giant diamonds around their necks like it wasn’t no big deal. The few I had on my own wrist sparkling brighter than the limelight on the stage in front of me made sure to let me know that maybe it really wasn’t. 

I looked up for the firme time in what felt like forever. 

“Are you even trying to be lowkey?” the blonde woman right beside me asked.

I happened to call the said blonde as best friend, but her name was Bela. Also known was my personal assistant, which was a win-win situation for me & me again, cause I had the chance to pay my best friend to approve my whole life before I even had the chance and that was fine for both of us. Tabloids loved to make us look like a good-looking young couple - couple as in lovers and completely not platonic -, which got worse with the open letter I put out there for the whole world to read about my sexuality. It wasn’t anyone’s business, but God, if felt good to scream it to everyone. Disclaimer: no, we weren’t together and never have been. As Bela makes sure to mention every once in awhile, “you’re cute and everything, but we’re not even each others’ type”.  Nevertheless, Bela was a leo (and also an astrology slut, her words, not mine), meaning she absolutely loved the spotlight and paparazzis screaming her name in red carpets. Bonus points if they were able to capture her good angle, which was the left side of her roundish pretty face. 

“I am not. But thanks for asking.” I replied in a low voice, careful not to bring attention to us. We were, after all, seated in a table filled with a lot of famous, important people. And I trusted none of them.

“Aw, babe.” Bela linked our hands and gave me a sweet smile. She was way more comfortable with displays of affection than I was, but I kept my fingers enlaced in hers either way. After years spinning around in our own little dance, we knew how to work around each other. As the blonde liked to say, “we knew how to tango”. “It’s a charity dinner. Stop pining over your ex-girlfriend and start suffering for poor, starving children. You know, just for a change.”

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Yes, I was definitely pinning. No, I was not about to confess that. “I do feel for the starving children, that’s why I’ve donated a good amount of money and helped organizing the event. And she’s not my ex-girlfriend.”

“Well, she’s your ex-something.” Bela said, putting my red bangs behind my left ear. It wasn’t even part of the job - she just liked taking care of me like I was a doll. It felt a little patronizing sometimes but it was nice being taken care of by someone, so I just probably give her a raise instead.

I did not give her an answer; both of us knew she was right.

Only five seconds had passed when she tried again.

“Ok, now I’m serious. Are you alright? It’s been awhile. Since the last time, I mean.” I looked into her eyes, face-to-face with the friend that had my back so many times, and I could tell the loving but worrying look in her eyes was pretty genuine. Bela was a loud, ego-maniac, crazy latina woman – but her number one priority in this life was to make those she loved happy. Luckily, I was one of a few.

I breathed in deep enough to smell the chicken salad in my plate right in front of me.

“It’s fine. I mean, Hollywood is a small place. We just happened to choose the same event just this once. It’s a mistake that only happens once in a lifetime. She’s probably here because she didn’t know I was coming. It’s fine.” I rambled, as if the faster I talked higher the possibility of believing my own words. “She’s only here to help starving kids.”

Bela, as usual, was having none of it.

“Yeah. Maybe she is.” With one last meaningful stare, Bela backed off and grabbed her glass of champagne, having a sip. It was irritating how I just knew she was trying to replicate one of those obnoxious memes that she’d learned while stalking fan accounts on Twitter (“it’s a whole world, Naz, you should check it out!”). It was annoying because she had a fair point - and I knew that without having to ask. Not only I was the one who helped organizing the event, I was also its ambassador. Everyone knew I would be here. Every single guest in the room deliberately chose to be here with her.

I was just about to return to my meal with a awesome plan of ignoring a almost anxiety attack with food when I noticed someone three tables away was staring at me, too. 

For the fraction of a second that our eyes met, I was sure I was having a heart attack. Thank fuck I was an actress. A very-good-in-hiding-her-feelings one. So just like all those times before, I pretended to see nothing, notice nothing and feel nothing. Suddenly the salad chicken in my plate looked delicious.

                                                 2012. PIPA.

“No, wait – sorry. No. Stop.”

The pianist abruptly paused mid-song, leaving the chords to fade on their own. Two girls from the backing vocal group shared a meaningful, annoyed look; but just like the last three interruptions before this one, they chose to say nothing. 

I sighed. That morning was already longer than I expected it to be. My eyes burned, my back was sore from countless hours sitting in that ridiculous chair and, as the fat cherry on top of the cake, my head buzzed in pain just like a grenade about to explode. 

David looked at me, his green eyes darker in frustration. He said nothing, but I could hear him screaming “what now?” telepathically to me. I had lots of experience working with egocentric directors: they demanded 32 hours of your day out of the 24 God gave you, they yelled at your face in front of the actors and, as I recalled so well, they would even compare your work to the pizza from the day before now rotting in the trash can. David was a difficult human being to understand - always annoyed, always expecting perfection from things that simply were not supposed to be perfect -, but he wasn't like that at all. He wasn’t one of them. However, right at that moment, when I deliberately interrupted the performance one more time, David looked at me like he was dying to throw me and my stuff in the dumpster outside across the street. 

“It wasn’t right. I’m sorry, it just wasn’t.” I finally said. I could feel a defeated aura  expressed all over my body. 

David looked at me for a second but said nothing. With a wave of his hand, the stage manager understood that it was best for everyone to just take five. Mike, the bald guy responsible to keep everyone in sight (or, at this case, out of sight), worked fast to disappear with the backing vocal singers and the musicians. They all probably went outside to gossip about my instability, just like they had done since 8AM this morning. I pretended not to care. 

David was left alone with me for the first time since we arrived. “What is going on? Will you please let me finish my very much needed rehearsal before I turn 80?”

I crossed my arms against my body. 

“Oh, please. It’s hardly a rehearsal. We don’t even have proper actores yet.”

“We would have them by now if you did your damn job!”

Something about the way he raised his voice made my headache worse in mere seconds, but I could not be bothered to care. I was used to working for people who loved to yell at me for no reason.

I gave him a burning look in return, which he didn’t seem to care. My voice remained low as I finally confessed: “The song is terrible.”

He raised his eyebrows, confusion all over his face. “It’s your song.”

I rolled my eyes, suddenly remembering how uncomfortable that chair was. Rising up, I turned my back to him. It was humiliating telling your own boss that your job was absolutely crap.

“I know it’s my song. That’s how I know it’s shit.”

David sighed. Not in annoyance - it was something else. I turned to look at him. He seemed… worried. Understanding, even. 

“Pipa. I wouldn’t have contacted you for this job if I didn’t think you were capable of delivering what I want. Trust me, I am very picky. However, I picked you.” He paused for a moment to get closer. “The song is fine. Sure, it can be better, but you have time to get it right. So. Swallow this shitty imposter syndrome and let’s do this, together.” He focused in the last words while grabbing me by the shoulders, shaking me ever so slightly. 

His words calmed me down a little, but I remained skeptical. 

“Well, if it’s not the song it’s definitely the singers. Nevertheless, it isn’t working the way it is right now. We need the real deal.” 

He let me go but stayed close to me.

“Casting takes time - you know how producers work. It’s Broadway, for Christ's sakes. They are still deliberating if they want a nobody or a Hollywood star. Why don’t you just get out of your head and trust me to choose someone… espectacular... to sing your lyrics? Huh?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He pouted. There was something funny about seeing a grown man pouting at you. Especially if he held a facade to everyone, pretending to be the biggest jerk of a boss ever, with no feelings whatsoever. It was interesting, to say the least, to realized he wasn’t like that at all. At least not with me. 

I laughed for the first time that morning, pushing my glasses up to my hair. 

“Alright.” As the crew entered the room again, ready to try the song just one more time, hoping and praying I would be satisfied this time, I came close to David’s ear to confide at him: “But if Vicky fuck up that note again I’m gonna kill her and then myself and then come back for you.”

David kept his eyes at me while going to the director’s chair to be seated again. He smiled silently when the pianist played the first note one more time and Vicky opened her mouth to sing the words I wrote. 

[ukulelewrites]

💌😊

💌 tell you what comes to mind when I hear your name

hmm,,,,,sNAZzy,,,,,jkjkjk naz, I think of flower crowns, pretty cursive handwriting, smol bean, cozy blankets, cups of coffee, & glitter!

😊 some songs that make me happy

Nu’est’s Pretty, Pristin’s We Like, Seventeen’s Mansae, Charli XCX’s Boys, Sing Street’s Up, & Bruno Mars’ Straight Up & Down

[vilarps]

heyy prologue and ch 1 to my new writing project maybe? Who even knows yo

 Zero

Little Tamber Cinden, youngest of the family, baby-faced and doe-eyed, tried and failed to outrun night as it overtook the forest. Bears, wolves were the least of her worries, unseen until it was too late, and bone-white snow bloomed red with blood. Her long yellow hair trailed behind her, glinting silver in the moonlight, just like that of her sisters, and tears streamed down her face. She looked just like her sisters, green eyed and freckled if not shorter by two heads, with the same stubbornness that got them all into trouble like this.

I can check on the bear traps on my own, indeed. The only reason she hadn’t stepped on one yet was pure luck.

A faint blue glow flickered through the pines to the left. It wasn’t in the direction of home, but some light was better than no light, when trolls came out to feast. She pivoted and ran, just as the first few roars boomed shook the trees and vibrated through Tamber’s body.

A sob wrenched itself from her throat, and she ran faster, stumbling once and scraping her knee. She got back up, not bothering to assess the damage. As she came closer, the light took the shape of a massive covered carriage lit by glowing crystals, door facing away. She whipped around the corner to see the six armed guards, and her breath lodged itself in her throat. She trembled at the sight of them -- their curved glaives glinting dangerously in the glow, and their eyes regarding her behind their masks. Their terrible, terrible masks.

They wore the skulls of yaks and cattle with ornate carvings and gemstone inlays. The furs of these felled beasts billowed out in manes to the small of their backs. Their clawed hands gripped the glaives as they moved closer to inspect the freckled little girl who’d entered their camp.

Trolls.

She tried to scream, tried to run, tried to do something as two guards gripped her arms in their ice-cold gauntlets. One of them rapped on the side of the caravan, and the door slid open.

She didn’t wait for whoever was inside before she kicked and twisted herself free. Tamber turned to flee, running blindly in the forest towards where she hoped was home, pursued by rattling voices and roars of three of the troll guards.

She would not die tonight. She would not die tonight. Tamber fled, searching wildly for a sign of civilization. She could find her way easily in the daylight, knew this forest by heart. But fear clouded her memory, and nothing looked familiar. Nothing save for the familiar shimmer of iron traps, hidden in the snow.

She rounded a tree, lungs burning and muscles wavering. A basic plan formed in her mind. It was sloppy, and risky, but she had no other choice. Tamber rounded back.

The trolls were too close, ready to descend upon her, rip her limb from limb. She ran towards them, and veered into a hard left. She barely escaped the claws of the largest troll, which ripped right through her coat and tore at her skin. Nevertheless, the trolls overshot, and had to stop and turn around, which bought Tamber just enough time to see the telltale glint of a bear trap.

She skirted around a tree, leaping over the snow and leaves that hid it. Two of the pursuers did the same, but the last wasn’t so lucky. He let out a shriek that shook Tamber to her core, as harsh and violent as an avalanche. The trolls hesitated just long enough for her to escape, unable to ignore the wailing of the wounded.

For ten minutes, she ignored the gash in her arm and pushed forward until – a metallic jaw snapped shut around her own leg, and she screeched, a banshee’s cry in the middle of the night. Birds fled their nests. Glowing eyes opened in the dark.

Tamber wept openly, panic making her tremble and shake. She did her best to wrench the spring trap open, even as black spots overtook her vision, and her head reeled. Even as her blood soaked through her boot and stained the snow.

She whirled around wildly for something – anything to help her pry the trap open, but there was nothing but the trees and brush. It took too long to put her thoughts in order. Tamber limped to the tree chained to the trap, and reached for the lowest branch, just barely out of her reach. She stretched, standing on her toes, barely able to see. Somehow, she managed to wrap her pale hands around the brittle wood and snap it off the trunk.

There wasn’t time to try prying the trap open. The trolls had freed their friend and howled in their gravelly voices, echoing through the dark. Instead, Tamber shoved the tree against the inside of her boot, forcing the leather and fur away from her leg.

The sight of gore and bone sent her retching. Tamber dry heaved onto the snow, and went right back to working herself free. The troll was almost upon her when she wrenched her foot out of the trap, exposing the soaked woolen stockings underneath. Without waiting to catch herself, Tamber scrambled up the tree, almost blinded by the pain. A clawed hand wrapped around her good leg, yanking with inhuman strength. It would have taken her down, had her stockings not slipped free. The troll came away with a single boot and scraps of fabric, and Tamber climbed out of its reach.

It spat curses at her in its gravelly voice and guttural tongue, unable to climb after her. It waved its glaive about, kicking at the tree, livid and likely hungry.

But she had won. All Tamber had to do was wait until dawn. When the sun rose, the troll would flee to the safety of the underground, and she could finally go home.

One.

We burst through the door as soon as the sunlight touched us. Neither of us had slept that night, barely able to so much as remove our coats as we waited for the sun to come up, and we, red-eyed and weary, raced to the forest’s edge.

Nothing was said on the way there. All the fighting had been done, all the arguments were worn out and tired. Nothing mattered except Tamber. I prayed we’d find her alive.

I blamed myself, even if I had scolded Naza about it. I was the oldest, the strongest. It was my job to keep an eye on the traps, to make sure our neighbors didn’t go hungry while they nursed their son back to health. Tamber was still too young to do it alone, too small and frail. I should have fought harder to go with her. I had the best chance to survive, surly as I was, and Naza bore scars from a troll’s greedy claws herself. She hated the forest, but she loved Tamber more.

A glimmer of metal caught my eye. “Naz—“ I held her back before she stepped on it. She struggled against me as I brushed the snow and branches away, exposing the vicious teeth.

“Oh gods,” she whimpered.

“You don’t think she…?”

“No. No, she couldn’t have. She’s got a sharp eye, right? She’d have seen them all.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as me.

I swallowed hard, searching her eyes for any wavering. They were filled with doubt, but she was silent. I nodded, unable to let my mind wander further. “Right. Yes, you’re right.” I squeezed her hand and turned away, shouting as we resumed the search. “Tamber! Tamber are you here?” We didn’t let go of each other until we saw the blood.

A spring trap rested beneath a spruce tree, caked in dried blood and pried open until it broke. Multiple sets of footprints surrounded it – too large to be human, too small to be a bear. Somehow, whatever was in it had gotten free. No doubt the trolls had helped with that, and dragged them deeper into the woods as it bled out. As the sunlight finally reached them, it glittered like gemstones against the snow. Bile rose in my throat.

“Oh gods.” Naza clapped her hands over her mouth, unable to stand the sight. “Oh gods.”

I took it in, too horrified to look away, even as my sister clung to me. At least three people had been here – maybe more. They had gone off in two directions – one pair followed the blood, and two going off in a different direction.

“It wasn’t her,” I said, holding Naza close. “If the trolls had caught her, they’d have left whatever was caught in the trap, and eaten the rest.” Something else had been caught here. Something intelligent enough to get free.

It was the wrong thing to say. Naza let out a sob, and began weeping anew.

“No, no she’s fine. I’m sure of it, Naza. I’m sure…” My voice broke on my lie. I held her tighter and screeched wildly. “Tamber! Tamber! Tamber!”

A tiny voice answered back, almost too soft to hear. “Bette?” It came from above.

“Tam? Tam, where are you?”

“Up in a tree, over here.”

Naza pried herself free and raced towards the sound. “We’re here, Tambagaer! We’re coming!”

I followed close behind, grateful that Naza’s eyes were on the trees. She didn’t see the blood splattered beneath a tree, Tamber’s boot caught in a trap. But it was empty, crushed flat. Tamber had gotten herself free, somehow finding the strength to climb the tree where she no doubt spent the night.

All fear melted away upon seeing the tiny form of my sister, clinging to the trunk, frost decorating her cheeks and eyelashes. She shivered pathetically, crying still. “Bette,” she whimpered. Her leg was mangled, torn through the muscle and covered in dried blood, but she was alive. Alive and almost entirely unhurt.

My heart wrenched in my chest. “I’m coming, Tam, I’m coming right up.”

Naza stood aside, giving my arm a squeeze as I climbed the tree to gather Tamber into my arms. Tamber wept openly, burying her face into my chest as I unpinned my fur cloak to wrap it around her. It had to be the first warmth she’d felt in hours. I held her closer at the thought, barely realizing I was crying myself. It was nothing less than a miracle she had survived.

When we could all breathe again, I helped her down into Naza’s open arms. She held on to Tamber’s hands, even as I carried her home.

Our mother greeted us with tearful kisses, and ushered us inside. She must have hated herself for sleeping through the night, not realizing the danger her baby girl was in. After a hot meal and a long bath, where we spent an hour gently cleaning and dressing her wounds, Tamber was put to bed, and I sat patiently with Naza in the living area, waiting for the backlash.

But when she came down the stairs, red-eyed and tired, Mama said nothing at all. She only sat down, and held her head in her hands.

[long-way-down-rp-archive]

Nasim Nejem

TRUE NAME: Yes, from their Fae nature or something bigger, but they do not know this, and never want to. FACECLAIM: Rami Malek NICKNAMES AND ALIASES: ‘Zim, Naz DATE OF DISCOVERY: April 1st, 1988 (date of birth indeterminate) APPARENT AGE: 29 ACTUAL AGE: 29 … or is it… sometimes it feels like… these passages in and out of time and magic get trickier every day. Their parents say they’re 29, so they are. Leave it alone, dude. GENDER: Nonbinary, more agender than gender fluid but they are changeable like the seasons, they/them pronouns KIND: Changeling - Autumn Court Indicators OCCUPATION: Farmer/Chef/Owner, Cumberland Farm to Table, a 24-hour organic “diner” with a limited but very fresh and ever changing menu

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Nasim has weathered laborer hands, hardened soles to their feet, and bags under their eyes, yet there’s a strange dewiness to their skin, a soft glow like the light of a blood moon. People ask them “what he’s doing” with their skin and their general response is “not sleeping” with a puckish smile and a quick, gentle correction about pronouns.

PERSONALITY:

Protective - Nasim knows a thing or two about being an outsider, about being scared of what you are. As soon as they could they built a place where everyone could be themselves and feel safe, they did. And woe betide the person who tries to fracture that.

Quiet - While they’re known for good conversation when it’s wanted, Nasim generally does their best to leave people alone if they need it. They’re comfortable with silence.

Awkward - Mostly physically, though they are also known for saying the wrong thing at first and following up with a charming correction. At times they move like a toddler who doesn’t quite know their edges, bigger than they appear to be. Other times, they are incredibly graceful, but that only makes the rest of the tripping more embarrassing. The only motions they can depend on reliably are farming, cooking, and carrying food - related. Otherwise, there’s a fair lot of bumps and bruises.

Determined - Starting your own business always involves a level of determination but telling your psychologist parents that you want to open a combination of the two least profitable businesses in the country requires a special kind of resolve. Couple in Nasim’s status as a Changeling protector and advocate and it’s clear why they work so hard.

Weary - Speaking of, Nasim can feel that something’s wrong. They’ve never been able to sleep, but something about Cumberland leaves them even more wired, achy. Whatever strange magic their Fae parents lent them means that’s alright but sometimes they worry. The Fae are dying. Does that mean they will too?

Lonely - Nasim loves Cumberland’s Nighthawks but it’s lonely in the guardtower, so to speak. When you’re responsible for other people’s safety, it’s hard to be vulnerable with anyone.

HISTORY:

(cw: homophobia, suicide)

Nasim means “breeze.” That’s all Jihan Nejem remembered about the day that she found her child. Climbing to a high place in Fall Creek, where the sun met the water far down below. She’d sighed at the sight, breathed in the clear air as it danced across the Earth. Then she heard a cooing. Like a small bird left to fend for itself. She looked through the bushes, over the rocks and pine needles, and then she found the baby. At first, the infant looked gold to her, a trick of the light that made them glitter and dance like leaves in the sun. She blinked, and then she saw them for the first time. Big brown eyes. Tan skin. She couldn’t quite explain it, but the baby looked just like her and her husband. Exactly in fact. Like Nasim had been shaped for them. After all the pain, the lost children and blood on the bed, they had a child. And they even had Anwar’s eyes.

Nasim wasn’t a fussy child so much as a strange one. They were quiet, even serene until they reached 5 months. But as the weather grew colder, Nasim struggled to sleep, whimpering at all hours of the night as if there was a ringing in their ears they couldn’t shake. It never stopped. Ever. But the baby’s sleeping stopped entirely.

They tried treatments. They were mental health professionals, after all. But nothing seemed to be wrong with Nasim. Aside from the not sleeping. And the fussy pallet. And the grabbing at every living thing they could find, watching it wither in their hands. Their father was kind but befuddled. He knew everything a human child needed, but he began to wonder if his child was human at all.

It was the imam who helped at first. He knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a thing or two about dying plants. Aforementioned guy (who turned out to be a hipster before hipster was cool) looked at the little four-year-old and said “Yup. That’s a fucking fairy.”

In Anwar and Jihan’s typical fashion, they researched as methodically as they could. When the hipster disappeared, so did their resources for first-hand sources, so they switched to secondhand ones. Those were hard days, the experiments. Trying desperately not to hurt Nasim while still helping them learn who they were and how they could control it. Jihan decided it was a mutation of some kind, and Anwar quickly bought Nasim every issue of X-Men he could get his hands on. They didn’t get very far, but Nasim had support. Never say they didn’t.

Somehow, your parents being told you’re a fairy made it a bit easier to explain that you were… a fairy. Kind of. Wrong word. Wrong word for sure, but Nasim couldn’t help it. They came out all at once at 16. Figured it would be easier that way, if these things were ever easy. Pan. Nonbinary. Gender is a prison, etc. etc. They had buckled down for a hurricane and found a tropical breeze instead. Jihan and Anwar joined PFLAG. They encouraged Nasim to date, though they never quite mustered the nerve for it. Went pretty well, if they did say so themselves.

At 17, Nasim put a proposal together. Powerpoint, clip art, it was very fancy for 2005. They wanted to buy the farm. A farm. A farm. .إن شاء الله‎‎ InshaAllah! Sorry. Sorry Ummi. Sorry. A beautiful spot of land had been left fallow in the Hermitage for decades. Pennies for an acre. The Nejems had a lot of money saved up for Nasim’s education – bachelor’s, master’s, doctorate. (How could a Najem not get a doctorate, after all?) Could Nasim borrow half of it, even a third, in order to start a farm? And a restaurant. Eventually.

The loan was a scary thing, as were the permits and clearances and topographical studies and equipment and seed purchasing. It was lots of work by themselves, but something about standing on the land, their land, made it more than worth it. They didn’t sleep anyway. What else were they going to do?

Mistakes were made. They bought one too many bulls but they were just so darn cute. The corn didn’t come in well. Planted too early. For three days, Nasim sat in the field, trying very hard to bring one of the plants back to life. Giving up, they lay back on the cold soil, hearing the crunch of the leaves. Then… it grew. All of it. ALL OF IT.

Nasim needed to pass off a lot of crops and quick. Their family’s mosque took a lot off their hands, but they still had far too much for one person or even one nice dinner party. So they threw 20. The “Cumberland Dinners” became well-known gathering spots for supernatural outsiders, particularly changelings like them. Invitations traveled by whispered word of mouth, but as Nasim heard each person’s story, they couldn’t contain their rage at their pain or joy at their triumph. The restaurant was born from the desire to provide for their friends. All of them. People paid what they could, and there was always enough food.

It was a year into their ownership of the farm when they saw their first Fae. A little thing, almost buzzing around the canning station in the shed. Nasim was guarded but they weren’t the one to attack first. The glittering thing had one of Nasim’s guests on the hook for a deal. A tricky one. Nasim couldn’t quite explain what happened that night, but the creature never came back, and the guest stayed for months, helping with the goats and the cows and the corn. Nasim’s parents had wanted them to go to law school. How pleased they’d be to learn they’d found a new way to negotiate a contract.

FAMILY:

Jihan Nejem, adoptive mother, 70 - Dr. (Mrs.) Nejem is an Egyptian-American pioneer of research into cognition and perception. She’s good natured and perhaps a little too permissive when it comes to Nasim. They were Jihan’s miracle baby, her gift from the Heavens. She always knew her child was different, so their coming out wasn’t as confusing to her as the average parent. Plus she had her husband to help.

Muhammad Anwar Al Nejem, adoptive father, 74 - Dr. (Mr.) Nejem, like his wife, is an Egyptian-American and well-known psychologist with a specialty in development and childhood trauma. While his wife has more of a technical approach, Anwar is very emotionally intelligent and took point on helping his wife address Nasim using gender neutral language. He also worked with the iman khatib at Masid Al-Adl to make sure the mosque would still be a safe space for their family.

Fae Parents - Nasim doesn’t know them and doesn’t want to know. They left them. They didn’t care. That’s their problem.

SEXUALITY AND RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Pansexual, single, generally too busy for deep relationships of any kind. They often joke that they’re married to their farm, but it’s more like they’re married to their cause. OTHER TIES:

Sameer - Nasim uses Sameer as a fill in cook when they need to go “off field” but Nasim gets the impression that Sameer’s a bit afraid of them. They have a good working relationship but don’t share much. Honestly, for all Nasim’s gentle affability, they don’t share much at all.

Other Changelings or Supernatural Outsiders - If there’s a Changeling in Nashville, it’s fair to say that Nasim knows them or wants to know them. They’re a little bit less trusting of the practitioners, shifters, and other low profile, mysterious folks, but they’ll still provide any resources they can and generally try to build a community where other magical cast offs can be themselves.

WANTED CONNECTIONS: All Changelings! All Fae! All kinds of refugees! People who like food!

LIKES: Freshly turned earth, anything with apples or pomegranate, midnight pasta, people watching, hearing music in the middle of the night from the restaurant, knowing someone else feels at home DISLIKES: Fae. I can’t say this enough. Fae. They fucking hate them. Garlic presses, funks up the texture and terrible to clean. People who don’t bring books back when they’ve lent them (unless they’ve been passed on further). Fae. Did I say Fae? HOBBIES: Reading, anything and everything. Cooking, which is lucky because they do a lot of it. Cumberland’s changing menu keeps things from getting old, and also invites opportunities to learn new techniques. Watching the night and the leaves. SKILLS:

Agriculture - While their powers help a lot with the harvest, the day-to-day and the planning is the result of Nasim’s extensive research and correspondence courses in Agriculture.

Animal husbandry - Nasim’s abilities lie squarely in the “growing things” arena. Taking care of the animals is a lot of research and a lot of time, but it pays good dividends. They’re easier to take care of than people, for sure.

Cooking - Nasim has always liked cooking since they were a child, but the restaurant has led to more research, more experimentation, and ultimately more joy. They love to swap recipes and geek out about acidity and technique, but they also love a super basic grilled cheese with Kraft. Just don’t tell the organic farming collective they work with.

MEDICAL CONDITIONS: Insomnia, ever since they were an infant. But not the usual 2 hours a night insomnia. Like literally hasn’t slept in decades insomnia. This leaves them a lot of time but also leaves them in a permanent state of exhaustion. They use music to soothe, zoning out, but there’s no napping for them. Sometimes they feel like they might die, but then the autumn comes around, and they’ve never felt more alive. CURRENT FINANCIAL STATUS: The Nejems are well off, and Nasim is their pride and joy only child. Nasim paid back their parents’ loan by the fourth year of their business and generally gets along by themselves. (Not having to pay for labor and having low supply costs tends to fight all those “most restaurants fail in the first five years” pitfalls.) That doesn’t keep the Nejems from sending them elaborate and expensive gifts, which they tend to either give to visitors or donate to the main room of the diner. Who doesn’t want to play Overwatch while waiting for their fries? PLACES: Cumberland Farm to Table, Nasim’s home and business, Masjid Al-Adl, their parents’ mosque PETS: A Tibetan mastiff named Al leads a pack of sheep dogs, a colony of cats in the barn who make their way into the restaurant every now and again, along with the usual elements of animal husbandry required for a real farm to table place - rabbits, goats, chickens, ducks, and a few very spoiled cows and sheep. [Cumberland’s main protein sources are generally from neighboring farms due to demand, but all eggs, cheese, and rabbit come from them.]

KNOWN MAGIC: Nasim’s abilities are a bit… temperamental. Sometimes, they require no help for a whole harvest, the crops effectively climbing into the silos. Other times, they intend to encourage a single tomato to grow and end up watching the whole field rot before their eyes, sickly sweet in the sunshine. As a result, they’ve had to cultivate a degree of control and patience that many of their small community admire and aspire to. “It’s all compost,” visitors to the farm hear him mutter, as new shoots sprout just a bit too quickly from the soil.

RUMORS: Nasim is generally known as the person to see if you’re looking for guidance, not necessarily because of their abilities but because they know the best person to call. This doesn’t stop the more naive or paranoid of the Cumberland visitors from passing around whispers of dark dealings and dark magic, that Nasim knows every secret anyone’s ever told. That they chose to be cast out rather than being left – that there was something more sinister at play.

There’s also the matter of Nasim’s biological parents – a source of much speculation and gossip to any Fae brave enough to venture near. While their powers clearly line up with the Autumn Court, who exactly owns the shame of their birth remains hidden, even as Nasim grows more and more open in their opposition to the Fae and “stronger” magicks.

SAMPLE:

There was a girl at the bar. Gray eyed. A little sad. Out of place, but weren’t they all? Nasim watched her with gentle eyes. She was shivering, but it was at least 70 in the dining room. They’d checked.

They poured hot cider and brought it to her, placing the cup down with a quiet clink. She blanched, doe eyes big and alarmed. “That’s on me.” Nasim said. They looked down to their shirt, caught a tiny drop of the sweet, warm liquid on the Carhartt plaid. “And on me.” They put the kettle back on the stove and went back to prep work, pulling basil leaves from a pot by the dark window. There was a silence in the place. That 4 AM quiet when you could hear the plants growing if you listened hard enough.

After a long time, she spoke. “They told me you can help.”

Nasim didn’t turn, didn’t want to startle her. “I hope I can. If I can’t, I usually have a friend or two who’s more useful than me.” For the first time, she smiled. “That doesn’t inspire much confidence.” “Well I’m not a confidence man.” Nasim replied with a smirk. “Not a man at all, really. Just like the term.” She bit her lip. “How’s it work?” “The helping? Oh. Well, uh, if you don’t mind me saying… you’re clearly a Winter.” She looked lost. They lowered their head a little. “Sorry. Not like the makeup. Though you really could pull off blue.” She smiled again. Nasim refilled her cup. “That cold you’re feeling? That’s normal. That’s alright. You’ve just got to breathe through it, alright? Just wait til summer, you’ll be so grateful. If you aren’t sleepy. You might be sleepy.” “There’s something chasing me.” she stuttered, the frost taking her whole body. Nasim was reaching forward to steady her, when they saw something out of the corner of their eye. A light shape moving past the window, out in the field. They placed the warm kettle down next to her, pocketing a mini-pie they’d been saving for the morning. “I’ll be right back. Finish this up. It’s got your name on it.” Nasim crossed out of the bar and to the door, pulling on gardening gloves. They stepped out onto the porch. It was functional as an event space but the hanging lights were only at a quarter glow.

They waited for what felt like an eternity, sure that they saw it. The wind whistled and then… there it was, framed by the moon and the corn. Nasim reached down slightly to the wood column at the front of the house, picking a pipe up and walking towards the pale blue glimmer. The shape moved to and fro, searching. Nasim walked forward. Even paced. Patient. It thought it was safe, they were sure. These creatures always did. Nasim reached the second row of corn, gently placing the pipe on the ground. They stuck their hands in their pockets and strolled forward, whistling. The sugar on the pie glittered under the moon. He heard a skittering to the side as it emerged from the stalks. Ice white with eyes as black as trees in winter. It sniffed the air. “Why are you here?” Nasim said. “There’s pie in it for you.” “I don’t have to tell you, broken one.” It’s voice echoed like trees in a cold snap, but it still eyed the dessert in their hand. Nasim held it out a bit further. “It’s not your season. You should be asleep.” “As should you.” the thing chuffed, stepping forward towards the pie. “But that’s not in the weather, eh? It is springtime. We only want to bring her home.” Nasim backed up as the thing snatched at the pie. “She has a home, no thanks to you. It’s convenient that you come to take her now. As she’s changing.“ The fae pushed forward still. Nasim felt the frost on their hands as they backed up through the 2nd row of corn. “Things have changed, broken one. The Winter is ready to bring our own back into the cold.” In one smooth motion, Nasim picked the pipe up from the corn and brought it down. The creature burned and cried, collapsing to the ground.

“Why did you do it?” Nasim asked, their measured voice in sharp contrast to the thud of the pipe against the thing’s singed flesh. Bong. That was for her. Bong. That was for him. Bong. That was for every person who had ever stayed at Cumberland. Hiding. “Was it to feast on her?” Bong. Squelch. “To see what muted essence you could pull from her worthless flesh?” Bong. “Or have you grown to regret? No matter.” The thing whimpered with a thousand voices. “You’re dying, only a little sooner than you expected, I think.” “Please…” it gurgled. Somehow, even in pain, there was a kind of early morning birdsong in its voice. A cardinal. “Ask me a boon, faerie. Ask me for what you most desire.” They looked down at the creature, eyes cold, even disappointed. “Life….” it whimpered. “Oh I can’t give you that, Tinkerbell.” Nasim said, their body relaxing ever so slightly. “But I won’t be the one that kills you.” They tossed the pie on the ground, and walked away.

[maharaniweddings]

Ontario, Canada Bengali Wedding by LTL Studios

After a wonderful and heartfelt private ceremony, our Bengali lovebirds knew it was time to celebrate and dance along with DJ Malak Gandhi's beats. The reason? The magical and glittering event that just happened. The reception took place at the enchanting Chateau Le Jardin Event Venue and for this, it was time to bring out the quintessential Maharani look, and let me tell you, Maharani Shaharin sure did know how to do that! She was overflowing with enchantment wearing a stunning burgundy and orange sherbet saree with beautiful details in gold and it was just so over the top with her magnificent jewelry by Kundan Kouture! And ladies, words cannot describe how amazing her mehndi art was thanks to Naz e Henna! Lucky for us, our friends from  LTL Studios were there with all their gear, ready to capture all her dreamy outfit details and the unique moments that compose today's gallery. So join us for part two and take a peek! http://dlvr.it/R5jt2f

[coursocial]

Winter 2016: Unravelled. India - Bangladesh

The ‘Unknown Fields Division’ - is a nomadic design studio that ventures out on annual expeditions to the ends of the earth to explore peripheral landscapes, industrial ecologies and precarious wilderness. These distant landscapes - the iconic and the ignored, the excavated, irradiated and the pristine – are embedded in global systems that connect them in surprising and complicated ways to our everyday lives.

For our Winter Expedition we have travelled through India and Bangladesh to document the landscapes behind our runway dreams and street blue jeans. Before we wear them, our clothes make journeys of tens of thousands of miles in their process of production making textiles the most globalized industry on the planet. Fast Fashion’s rolling tide, dumps mountains of cheap clothing on the high street shores. Worn for one wild night and destined to be discarded, the whims of the style minded have set in motion a global industry that is reshaping developing economies half a world away. We delve in the dressing up box, into the wild, whimsical, weird and wicked world of fashion, and look deep beyond what is reflected in its glittering gilded mirror. Behind the parties and the cash-registers the textile industry is the focus of our year’s investigation and speculation. We have reimagined seasons, rewritten trends to operate between the scale of the stitch and the planetary supply chain and weave new connections between consumption and production.

Students 2016 Naz Atalay, Eleonore Audi, Linus Cheng, Chong Yan Chuah, Mikhaila Fam, Carolina Gismondi, Kassandra Lim, Natali Markantonatou, Arefeh Sanaei, Oliver Savorani, Nathan Su, Zipu Zhu