#people naturally want to personify things and attach a human face to what they like

[thanatika]

low-coherency rambling in the tags

[haztory]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

--nanami kento x gn!reader; hurt, comfort, minor character death, established relationship, death from a disease

--summary: Death is part of the process, Nanami Kento learns early on. He's no stranger to it nor the quiet that follows it. But when it plagues you like this, he finds himself at a loss.

a/n: I don’t know where this came from. it just happened. have I mentioned I'm a huge nanami simp as well? something about capable men just gets to me hehe. anyways, enjoy!

i listened to ‘clouds’ by luke faulkner while writing this

(w.c. 2302)

Death is part of the process, Nanami Kento learns early on.

It’s not one he has to particularly enjoy, but it would be advantageous in the resting of his conscious to make peace with it. Rather than let death ruin the few hours of sleep he can manage a night, it’s significantly easier to never let it weigh too heavily on his mind, never let its stay linger for more than necessary in the space of his thoughts. His occupation demands a certain air of nonchalance from him, requires the detached, almost stoic acknowledgment of the situation. Eventually, familiarity will settle in the depth of his recollection and death becomes something one needn’t blink twice towards. 

It’s not an aspect of the job he likes, per se, but it’s significantly better than the alternative. This seemingly apathetic conception of human life is unfortunately an evil requirement. Instead of festering over the lives he didn’t save, he can focus on the ones he has yet to protect. His slate may be tainted with copious amounts of red— inky, dark, bleeding red; the kind that looks black as it accumulates— but in true Kento fashion, he’ll wipe it clean. Gently, with a clean rag and with slow, circular motions, he’ll wash away the evidence of his failures with as much respect as he can, regardless of how exhausted he may be and how much easier it would be to just run his body, suit, and knife through the stream of water.

The victims may no longer be of this earth, but their last physical embodiment lay wickedly upon his person, his weapon, and his soul. Where he couldn’t save them, the least he can do is lay their last parts to rest with as much kindness as one can muster: with a slow wipe and a silent prayer. 

Death is part of the process, but, if one allows it, it can also be the fuel towards excellence. A drive that settles in after the brief misfortune, kickstarting the desire for improvement; A need to do and be better. To work harder and save more people. But that’s all it must be. No residual guilt, no lasting regret, only fuel. That’s what Nanami Kento learns early on.

What he learns rather recently, though, is that death is much different when it’s inevitable. 

When there is no amount of slashing, no amount of fighting, no amount of improved skills that can prevent it. Even worse, when you know it’s coming and preparation can do very little in settling the grief. 

Death is part of the process, but how can one rationalize it when it doesn’t come from the immediate life or death situation he so often faces? When it doesn’t come from the hands of maniacal cursed spirits or the wickedness of greedy men, but instead, from the unforgiving nature of nature itself? How does one reconcile the inevitability of death when it happens to someone so young?

Cancer. 

She was only eleven.

Death is part of the process, Kento used to think, but as he stands amongst the sea of black on this fitting day of grey, he can’t help but notice how incredibly unfair this all is. Her mother stands a few feet away, silent as they scatter her ashes by the river she used to play in as a child. She stands flanked on either side by loved ones, and yet, the abysmal look on her face betrays any ideal that she may be comforted by the closeness of others; Hardly even cognizant of the fact that they’re there. He’s seen that look before, once on himself.  

It’s the face of vicissitude, the kind that casts someone past the rocks of sadness and out onto the sea of loneliness and despair. A place that no one can follow.

Spouses are called some variation of widow, children are called orphans. What does one call a parent who’s lost their child? No doubt the lack of a label only helps to contribute to the loneliness of it all. Suspended in pain without even the decency of a customary societal title attached to one’s name. Left with nothing but the echoing emptiness of a broken heart.

Grief personified. A hollow shell of a being. Just another person who lost someone they loved. Nothing more, nothing less.

Kento is used to death, but this? This has heartache weighing heavier on his shoulders than he’s used to, forcing his impeccably straight posture forward with a sag of tragedy. The silence of the fellow attendees forces him to maintain some morsel of composure, in fear of disturbing the serene devastation of it all that’s composed so fragilely. So delicate that even a sigh will break the glass of still anguish. As her ashes are scattered to the river and the priest begins the common prayer, the image of her weak smile in her last moments plays vividly behind Kento’s tinted glasses. He can hardly swallow the lump that tightens his throat.

He can hardly imagine how her mother feels. Can hardly imagine how you feel. She was your niece after all.

His eyes trail towards your figure. Standing to the right of your sister, dressed in the customary black, and hand held tightly in hers in solidarity of the magnitude of the loss. Kento didn’t mind standing towards the back, away from the bubble of intimacy that surrounded the two of you. It would’ve felt like an invasion of the sanctity of family to stand anywhere near. A foreigner, he’s always attributed himself to be whenever accompanied with your family— not out of their refusal to accommodate him, but rather his own voluntary maintenance of separation from their sphere of loving connection that was more or less absent from his own life— and any meager effort to share sentiments of sorrow would feel, more or less, inauthentic. At least at this moment.

So he waits, towards the back of the gathering. A far enough distance to ascertain his separation from the immediate family, but close enough to where, should you require him at any point, you need only turn around to seek him out. And he will come to you, as fast as his legs may go, regardless of the people that may be in the way. For his hand has been twitching this entire time with the need to physically comfort you and his eyes continuously dart back to your figure in watchful consideration.

The priest ends his prayer and the last of the ashes are sent off and silence once more encompasses the gathering. The aching kind, the one that wants to be disturbed so badly, but remains untouchable. The kind of agonizing mute that has surrounded his life since you received the fateful phone call a few days before.

Kento is no stranger to quiet. It’s his preferred method of life, not the kind of person to find delight in unnecessary, boastful noise, nor the kind to entertain it often. But this is the kind of quiet he finds greats distaste in. Especially since it’s deprived him of his favorite kind of din— yours.

The life that is so intricately intertwined with yours has held virtually no recognizable clamor in four days. No low chatter from the television, no raucous laughter induced from one of your social media apps, no prolonged discussion of each other’s days or interesting points of conversation. Only silence has filled every gap and crevice as you two packed bags and made arrangements to head to your hometown in preparation for the funeral. Lamenting silence filled the space as you sat side by side on the train towards your destination. Mournful silence encompassing the home of your sister upon your mutual entry into the area. Silence so thick yet so delicate, so long and so void that any attempt to dismantle it feels boilingly uncomfortable.

He doesn’t like the wall it has unintentionally placed between you two, wanting nothing more than to tear it down with his bare hands and have you back within the safety of his arms. But he knows better. 

Death is part of the process, and he must let grief run its course. He’ll just remain in the shadows as a beam of support, intent to provide the space and time you need, but always keeping a trained eye on you.

That’s what love is, he supposes. It’s an odd thing to think, especially as solemness surrounds him as it does now. The drag of sadness competing with the surge of love that overwhelms his veins. It’s burning, and intense, and while his is mostly in consideration of you (as most things in his life nowadays are), it’s peculiarly indicative of the moment. Poetic, almost. 

Bleeding affection borders this ceremony of gathered friends and family in a proper send-off, love encapsulated in the silent tears trailing down faces and memorialized in the air of stagnance. Pouring in every direction as they all gaze sadly at the traveling ashes of the young girl down the steady waters of the river.

It’s grief, yes, but also love, for what is grief but love with nowhere to go?

The ride home is like all the other days, incredibly hushed. Inaudible. He can barely hear your breaths. He wonders, and not for the first time, if when he dies, this is how you will grieve. In this tragic quiet, moving with such stillness that was he not watching, he wouldn’t know you moved at all. A vacant soul wandering just to survive. Jujutsu sorcerers unfairly make their peace with dying early on in their tenure, and maybe he’s committed you to a life of tragedy by involving himself so intimately with you. 

When he dies, and he will— this life that he has chosen spares him no luxuries, not even false beliefs— he will condemn you to a brutal reality that he could have spared you from were he not so selfish. He hates seeing you like this. Hates it with every fiber of his being.

Death is a part of the process. He understands that. He just wishes it wasn’t so collateral. A prolonged state of your affliction that resulted from his hand would surely be a more painful fate than any gruesome death.

Your parent’s home is warm, in sharp contrast to the events of the day. And while they stayed with your sister, Kento insisted you return to your place of stay to wash and change if only to give you a moment alone; So he can check on you in the sanctity of privacy, grant you a brief respite from the unrelenting tide of sorrow, cherish you in these sparing instances that he can never take for granted. 

You bathe alone, he gives you that. He makes tea the way your mother taught him how, even though you quite like the way he makes it and has it set on the table upon your return. Dressed in comfier attire and seated blankly at the table, he settles in beside you. His shoulder touching yours hoping to convey in this minute action that he’s here. 

He doesn’t need the words to say it. Just his presence. 

His hand too, as you settle your own silently in the space of his large one, gripping tightly onto the rough skin. He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand, bringing it to his lips as he placed two long kisses on its surface. You’ve made eye contact all day but this is the first time you’ve really looked at each other. 

Where he can see the pain swimming in the pools of your irises behind the film of unshed tears and you can see the unrestrained sympathy and worry in his. 

“She was eleven,” you whisper, unable to speak any louder.

He doesn’t say anything. There’s not much he can say, only press his lips harder to the back of your hand.

It’s the only moment you’ve had alone together since arriving, and while he was so desperate before to hear something, anything come from your mouth, he finds that the inactivity the fills space once more is rather appropriate. One that he doesn’t want to disturb. Not when there isn’t anything he can say that can heal this wound, nothing he can do except love and care for you when you’re too weak to do it yourself. 

He places a hand behind your head, tilting you forward as he places his lips upon your forehead and smoothing the stray hairs that have displaced themselves from your formal hairdo. Fingers travel down the back of your neck and rub gentle circles on your shoulder, healing any aches with his touch. 

“Drink,” he murmurs against your temple, and you do. A sign of progress that he relishes in. He’s more than eager to see the slow trek back to a state of normalcy, but he knows it’ll be different from here on out. There’s a hole in your heart and it will take a while to heal. 

But he’ll be there. For as long as he can, whenever he can. Because that’s what love is.

Death is part of the process, but he finds it’s infinitely more manageable with you. He knows you feel the same way when at the end of the day as you lay side by side in the guest room of your parents’ home, you take comfort in the safety of his arms and finally, fill the air with something other than the prolonged silence and let him comfort you. 

Death is part of the process, and he knows the inevitability of his own part in it. But in this moment with you, he’ll let himself indulge selfishly in your noise. It’s his favorite sound, after all. 

end notes: come shoot me a message! i love hearing from yall. 

[thepixelelf]

thepixelelf’s recycling bin

📁 Lie Detector, Kim Seungmin.doc

Details: Stray Kids Seungmin; murder mystery au; unfinished; 2.6k

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Personified Polygraph Strikes Again, Solving the Unsolvable Leining Murders!

Teenage "Wonder Boy" Helps Police Force Catch Heinous Leining Killer!

Leining Killings Solved by Phenomenon Known as The Human Lie Detector!

"Is this supposed to be some sort of intimidation tactic?" You tossed the papers back on the dingy metal table, the handcuffs around your left wrist clanging where they attached you to the not-so-stainless steel. "Because it's not working."

The police detective, who'd been interrogating you for the past hour, sighed, his arms crossed over his chest. If he'd wanted to intimidate you, he could've done it himself. Even with his full cheeks and short stature, he was quite built — especially in comparison to you. But this "teenage wonder boy" business? Were you in a fantasy novel? What happened to the police station?

"Did you even read them?" he asked, voice strained and tired. It was nearly three in the morning, you had to give him that.

You resisted the urge to scoff. "Should I?"

"Well if you did you might feel more compelled to confess before it's too late."

"Too late?" You leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair you were forced to sit on and brought your right hand up to your face, examining your nails as if you had nothing better to do. "Need I remind you, Detective…?"

He sighed again. "Seo."

"Detective Seo, need I remind you that I'm innocent? I didn't do anything." You dropped your hand to the table, bored. "Whoever you're looking for, it's not me."

Apparently you weren't convincing enough, as Detective Seo turned to the mirror taking up most of the wall opposite you, making a gesture with one hand to beckon someone in. You knew there were probably people watching through the one-way mirror, but looking at it was still unnerving. So, you kept your eyes on the cop in front of you instead.

A boy walked through the only door and shut it behind him, looking serious; grumpy. Your sleep schedule may have been screwed up the last few weeks, but to everyone else, it was well past when they could have been in bed.

You almost felt bad for Wonder Boy.

Not really though. You were the one handcuffed to a table.

"This is Seungmin," Detective Seo introduced, "he's going to be your polygraph today."

"Polygraphs aren't permissible in a court of law."

"He's a bit more accurate than an actual polygraph. He will be able to tell when you lie, so this is your last chance to come clean." Detective Seo sat Wonder Boy in the seat across from you. He stayed silent, just studying your face. You kept your eyes on Detective Seo. "Your sentence could be lessened if you do."

You balled your hands into fists, letting them fall to the table again. "I'm not gonna have a sentence because I didn't do shit!"

Something about what you said made Wonder Boy's eyes widen just a smidge. It was exactly what you'd been saying all night, ever since they forcefully dragged you into that stupid squad car, yet he seemed surprised. He would've been able to hear you from behind the glass — if he really had been there for most of the interrogation — so you were slightly confused at his reaction. 

His gaze dropped to the table, eyes darting back and forth as if reading invisible words written across the surface.

•

Seungmin had always been able to hear lies.

They had this… ring to them. It reminded him of windchimes, but only the cheap kind you would find in souvenir shops. Too sharp. The kind that left a light pain in his ear.

Truths had a sound too. More subtle, low, like the purr of a housecat. They had a natural calming effect.

When he was little, he had no idea what the sounds meant. He only knew that he liked one and hated the other, though it was always the latter that he heard most. He thought that everyone heard things the same way, so he didn't think much of it until, one day, he asked his mother.

"Please tell dad to stop, momma… the ringing hurts my ears," was what he said directly after his father told them he was going to stay late at the office — allegedly because of a business mishap.

After describing what he meant, his mother decided to take him to get checked out by professionals. She tried to understand it herself, but nothing Seungmin attempted to explain made sense. At the time, Seungmin made no connection between the two different sounds and lies versus truths, so neither could she.

The doctors always spoke with the nice sound. Many suggested tinnitus, the medical condition of recurring ringing in the ear or head, though many also said that it didn't explain the times at which the sound occurred (only when others and, occasionally, Seungmin spoke), nor did it explain the opposing noise. During that time when his mother had him hopping from clinic to clinic, Seungmin thought maybe he wanted to be a doctor — then he would always be hearing the nicer sound.

He'd had his revelation partway through seventh grade, a few months before his parents' messy divorce. It was the high-pitched I'm okay’s that tipped him off.

His mother never blamed him. Though, sometimes, he heard her voice waver. Like windchimes.

Eventually Seungmin gave up on the whole doctor idea. Not only was it an incredibly difficult program to get accepted into (much less pass at all), but he simply wouldn’t have been able to pay for it. His mother had, for a time, insisted that she could handle it with her full time job and perhaps a few jobs on the side, but while her voice had been calm and low — a truth beyond truths — Seungmin couldn’t bear the thought of putting her through that when she’d done so much for him already. And so he graduated, moving on to getting a full time job at some law firm, where he worked as a mail jockey. It wasn’t the most rewarding job, but the pay was slightly better than most straight-out-of-school jobs, and Seungmin knew the place was the best in town to make connections.

Unfortunately, law firms were filled with lies.

Every day, Seungmin would return home with a lingering whine in his eardrums. He’d lock himself up in his studio apartment, which he’d managed to afford with his mother’s help after he’d left in order to let her focus on herself for once, and hide his head under his pillow, wordless music playing softly from his speakers.

Instruments never lied.

The  “teenage wonder boy” fiasco was an accident. He’d somehow found himself in the middle of a case when he stumbled across Detective Seo (or Changbin, as he was apt to call him) a rookie detective going against regulation to find evidence. In a bit of a dire situation, Seungmin revealed his strange hearing ability, and Changbin had been the first person — other than Seungmin’s mother — to believe it. As a rather straightforward, clumsy guy himself, Changbin barely ever told lies, with the exception of where he legally had to as a police detective. It wasn’t the best trait, both of them admitted that, but Changbin was Changbin, and he told the truth before he knew whether it was good or bad. Perhaps that was why Seungmin stuck around; he liked the gravelly tone to Changbin’s voice.

Changbin began bringing Seungmin in on his investigations, mostly for questioning on-site or interrogation. At first, they’d told the police chief that Seungmin was a psychoanalyst, but after solving the Leining cases, Seungmin decided he wanted to come clean. Nobody in the station really believed him, but the news reporters ate it up, making it seem much bigger than it really was.

Seungmin’s testimonies could never be used in court, but he always managed to make the criminals confess their crimes before that was necessary. Since he was so good at what he did, the chief let him stay despite her doubt of his ability. He moved from being a mailboy at a law firm to being at the beck and call of Detective Seo, as well as the few other officers within the precinct who were starting to believe in him as well. The money he earned had been enough to keep him afloat, which he took immediately as an opportunity to leave that godforsaken firm.

It had almost been a year since the Leining murderer had been caught by Seungmin and Changbin, an achievement that had gotten Changbin a new desk and Seungmin — well, a desk.

But then another body turned up.

Changbin was on call for the night, and he’d been the one to observe the scene with the forensics team. An abundance of things were eerily similar to that of the Leining murderer’s victims. The lacerations on the neck, the silk burns around the wrist, the way the body had been laid on the floor, a ring of nauseating dark blood around her head but nowhere else. And worst of all, the mark of the Leining Killer, a signature just under the victim’s left collarbone, carved delicately into her skin to leave a red and festering RL. 

But Ray Leining was in police custody. He would be until his trial.

Changbin and the rest of the team thought it had to be a copycat killer; there was no other answer. But you weren’t cooperating. Changbin thought he had you practically red-handed, what with the victim’s wallet in your schoolbag, but since you weren’t willing to confess, he had to call Seungmin during witching hour.

As soon as Seungmin showed up to Interrogation Room A, Changbin waved him in. You didn’t seem like the usual person he’d had to help question, most of the time they were either nervous or hesitant at least, but Seungmin had learned a while ago that nothing was really normal in this place.

Though, when he heard your voice, he knew you were far, far from normal.

I'm not gonna have a sentence because I didn't do shit!

The words kept repeating in his mind, each syllable bouncing off the walls of his skull like the DVD logo, every individual letter leaving a stamp where it could. Your voice was like raindrops on the nylon of an umbrella, like marbles clicking together, like pens scratching across paper.

Not ringing. Not purring.

Your voice was nothing but your voice. Seungmin heard it like he heard the wind, or the rush of water as he washed his hands, or… music.

Changbin seemed to miss Seungmin’s initial shock, too preoccupied with how annoyed he was with you. “Fine,” he said, “don’t confess. But don’t complain about it later when I clearly gave you the out.”

You rolled your eyes, and Seungmin found himself following every miniscule movement you made, waiting desperately to hear your voice again. Nothing like this had ever happened before. He’d never heard a voice without either accompanying sound; even questions had one or the other, telling Seungmin if the person really wanted to be answered or not.

“Now tell Seungmin exactly what you told me,” Changbin prompted, gesturing to Seungmin as you smirked.

“What? That this is utter bullshit? That you should be better at doing your fu—”

“About the wallet.” Seeming absolutely positively done with you, Changbin stood straight and crossed his arms again as you made eye contact with Seungmin.

He froze, and for once it wasn’t his ability that made him scared, but the lack of it. This had to be a fluke, he thought. Soon, you’d tell him whatever happened with the wallet Changbin had mentioned and lie about it, then Seungmin could hear the ringing and be sane again. That had to happen.

“Look,” you sighed, the sound as clear as crystal to Seungmin’s ears, “you wouldn’t need a damn wonder boy if you fucking listened. I know Andrea. She’s my landlady. I was on my way to pick up some donuts from the Italian Centre, saw her wallet on the ground, picked it up like a decent human being, and checked whose it was. It just so happened to be hers so I decided to give it back once I got the donuts and went home, but you guys just had to arrest me before I even got there. And don’t think I didn’t see you little fuckers eating my donuts when you brought me in.”

Changbin brushed off your accusations as well as the fact that you referred to the victim in present tense, instead turning to Seungmin and waiting for the signals they’d made together. Two taps of the finger for a lie, three for a truth. But Seungmin could only turn to Changbin with desperation swimming in his eyes, his mouth moving to speak but no words coming out.

A decent human. You guys just. I know Andrea. Picked it up. Give it back. Look you wouldn’t. See you little. And checked whose. On my way. Me in here.

His ears were ringing, but not in the way he was used to. 

This time, Changbin noticed Seungmin’s distress. He silently questioned what was wrong using nothing but his eyes, and normally Seungmin would be able to answer with nothing but mouthed words. Not this time, though. Every cell in his body was freaking out.

Ignoring the two, you continued, “How would I even copy that psycho, anyway? You said she was exactly the same as all his other victims. If I was stupid enough to mess up robbing someone, do you think I’d actually have the brains to give her fucking silk burns?”

"So you know about the silk burns?" Changbin asked, still more worried about Seungmin than you at the moment. The question was more his detective instinct than anything else.

"You told me about the silk burns, dipshit!"

The room went silent for a moment, save for Seungmin's rapidly accelerating heartbeat. He could hear the boom boom boom of blood rushing to his head.

For the first time since he was twelve, he couldn't tell reality from facade.

Instinctively, Changbin looked to Seungmin again for a yes or no to your claim, but he was only met with a more intensified panic and pale face. He sighed, pulling up Seungmin — who'd gone stiff — by the arm and taking him to the door.

"We're not done here," he warned you, trying his best to seem as intimidating as he could with a freaked-out Seungmin in his arms.

"Trust me," you said with a scoff. Bringing up your left wrist, you showed them the handcuffs without caring for how the metal bit into your skin. "I'm not going anywhere."

•

After Seungmin had gotten some water and the colour had returned to his cheeks, Changbin stopped pacing.

"What happened in there?"

That's what Seungmin wanted to know. "I… it… They just— I—! I don't..." The more he thought about you, the more baffled he became. "I don't know."

"You looked like a chicken in a KFC, dude, are you alright?"

Both of them kept glancing through the one-way glass at you. All you were doing was occasionally shifting in your seat, seemingly uncomfortable no matter what you tried, yet your mere presence unnerved them. Changbin had never seen Seungmin so scared before, and Seungmin had witnessed plenty of scary things since they started working together.

Seungmin’s normal response would’ve been to say he was fine, spic and span, mint condition, but he couldn’t this time.

“Well…?” Changbin leaned against a wall, arms crossed as he nodded his chin at Seungmin in the only chair in the room. “Did they do it?”

Error; missing text

[killianmesmalls]

FINALLY!!! My con recap is... long. And I’m wordy. And it’s long. BUT IT’S HERE! Below the cut for anyone who is crazy enough to read it all. 

Friday:

By the time the weekend really got started, I had already had the chance to meet up with @lillpon Wednesday evening for a last-day-at-work happy hour and then again when she, @justmilah, and @fraddit came over to my place to hang out, watch Once, and put the totally last minute touches on my Tilly cosplay. (Also, BTW, yes I am using nicknames because 1) I figure it’s easier for people to follow along and 2) I don’t know how much some people want their real names to be attached to fellow crazies and sent into the ether.) We ended up venturing down to pick up the car from my father-in-law, and on the way found a meeting place for @queen-mabs-revenge to gather with us. Now, we couldn’t find her, kept checking to see where she might be, when LO, HERE COMETH A TINY ITALIAN IN A BIG MCFRIGGIN HAT. Yes, she was indeed sauntering down 8th Avenue in her Lt. Jones hat, which was probably the 18th weird thing most passing New Yorkers had seen in the two hours since they had woken up.

We then all tackle each other and me, @fraddit, @justmilah, and @queen-mabs-revenge continue on to meet my FIL for the car, where Mabs was super on board with helping him trek stuff from the trunk back to his apartment after seconds of meeting him. Such a polite. Without much ado, we make our way to the middle of friggin nowhere New Jersey, aided by the very comforting fact that Mabs navigates the way I need to be navigated to. Much thanks. Many appreciate. Wow.

Our first stop once we go around in circles a few times since driving in Whippany itself is a damn adventure was to meet up with @thesschesthair. While Mabs is confusing the front desk dude with her hat, Chesty over there gives us a call and I sneak out, lock eyes across the dingy parking lot of the Red Carpet Inn, by its derelict diner, and leap into her arms. She then comes over to attack Milah and Fraddit before properly grabbing Mabs so hard they were close to osmosis.

I’m not going to lie, it’s at this point through to Monday evening where things sort of blur. Mabs and Chesty requested rooms beside each other and GUESS WHAT. Yep, you guessed it, they had rooms that actually were connected by a door that was hidden behind Mabs’s oversized fridge. Oh! And there was a random toilet just hanging out outside their rooms. Because, why not? When Puh Pah has to go, he has to go. Also, it’s here that Mabs gives us all Alice-themed totes from Poundland (YES, LAUGH, IT’S GREAT) and then we do roundabouts again to get to the Marriott where the rest of us are staying.

Registration was a breeze, and then we collapse into the lounge area where we meet up with @theonceoverthinker and an already-registered Chesty, where she and I are off to the side making inappropriate jokes and then deciding it’s time to wine o’clock this con. Guys? The pub in the Marriott got some play by the Pirate Crew (thank you, @freifraufischer for dubbing us all as pirates), we tried their Poisoned Apple sangria, shot the shit, and then went about checking in and getting ourselves settled while at various points meeting up with @captregina, @lillpon, and @freifraufischer.

At some point (again because all is a blur) we went to Chris’s Q&A where I asked him a couple of questions and honestly blanked on most of the experience because OMFGITALKEDTOSMEE. Then Jared came on, was very much however you’d imagine Jared being, and I was still very much focused on Chris saying how much Smee would love Alice and knowing that Colin and Rose day was tomorrow.

Afterwards, we got autographs, where Mabs’s delightful totes came in handy and I had Gil, Chris, and Jared sign the back of the Alice tote. Gil was nice and I complimented Jared on how much him being open about anxiety meant to people, but it was Chris that, to me, was the MVP. He was incredibly personable, funny, and a total teddy bear. I asked him about the blooper he was in where it seemed like Smee was trying to convince Hook to not duel with Ahab (the one where Colin spat in his face) and Chris said he honestly forgot what was happening in that scene, but he would ask Colin. Still, the one thing he did remember was when he knelt down in front of Colin in the post-duel “Congratulations, Captain, you won!” scene, he split his pants. The camera was to his back, but his treasures were on full display in front of Colin.

I also asked Chris for a hug because, I mean, YOLO, and he obliged! Honestly, he’s a damn pumpkin and I adore him.

Now, there was karaoke night after this, but some of us were bad idea bears and decided to say “f--- this” and went into the pool with some sea salt gin Mabs had brought over. We’re super classy, guys.

...What happens at the pool, stays in the pool. :P

Saturday:

OMG COLIN AND ROSE DAY! COLIN AND ROSE DAY! COLIN AND ROSE DAY!

I was legit saying this and hopping up and down I don’t know how many times. I focused most of the morning trying to make sure I had myself together, getting my tights ripped just right, getting my hair done, venturing to @captregina’s room so I could do her hair (where I met @brave-lassie), doing her eyeliner, doing my makeup, meeting up with everyone, and trying to contain my feelings about COLIN AND ROSE DAY!!!

I missed most of the Wild Bunch Q&A in my efforts to get ready and in waiting for Rose’s photo ops. I lined up with Capt just by where the actors enter into the room they do the photo ops in and got my very first in-person look at Rose.

Guys.

GUYS.

That precious angel GLOWS. I cannot say enough how adorable and lovely she looks and is in person, but I will try my best. She’s insanely precious. Honestly, I was probably a walking hearteyes emoji. I try to keep my cool as I wait for her in line, where I’m set to get a picture with her than a shared picture with her and Capt, and the moment she sees me in my Tilly cosplay she exclaims, “NAILED IT!” Then, like a spastic idiot, I told her I couldn’t help myself since she’s my favorite, and she said, “You’re my favorite!” Bless her. She’s insanely personable and tilts her head to you, and is a personified cupcake.

After that, I brought Capt in for a shared picture with her, where we handed her my bunny mask and Rubik’s cube I had made with the help of Lill as we (plus Milah and Fraddit) had lounged on my couch Thursday night. She geeked out a bit over them, I asked her which one she wanted to hold, and she chose the Rubik’s cube, I held the mask, and Capt and I held a pillowcase she had gotten a while back that said, “We’re all mad here.”

Rapid fire they then did Colin and Chris photos followed by Colin and Rose, where all of us collectively lost our minds throughout. There are some pretty stellar ones people got with Colin and Chris, and then OMFG KNIGHTROOK.

Not going to lie, I kind of blanked on it a bit. I just remember saying “hi” to them both, taking a photo in the middle of them, and then ushering in PERFECT TACO HAT LT. JONES MCMABS in for the second photo, where I pulled a crazy face and she pulled that cheesy salute in that pic of him and Bernard.

Then was Rose’s Q&A, and as you can tell she’s still the embodiment of sunshine with a dash of silliness. I must have had a massive smile on my face the entire time in between bouts of laughter.

Before her panel ended, they called for Colin photos, which I needed to get to early because I had Rose’s meet and greet, but HELL NO WAS I MISSING ANY OF ROSE. Nope. So I stayed, then dashed out, and totally thought I’d be fine because…hey, I had already met and touched the man, how hard could this be?

BEING A NORMAL HUMAN AROUND HIM IS IMPOSSIBLE. I just hope I didn’t sound too much like an idiot when I said another hello and asked, “Do you mind if I give you a hug?”

Tired panda just opened his arms and we took a quick picture, and his face was SUPER CLOSE TO MINE and I didn’t know what to do with myself and suddenly that scruff was AGAINST MAH FACE. I think I entered a new plane of existence at some point but remembered I had feed and managed to use them to walk out and not completely venture to a new reality.

It was probably a good thing I didn’t have time to transcend to nirvana because ROSE’S MEET AND GREET WAS NEXT. It got off to a late start since Emilie was still in the room when we got up there, but I’d wait howmstever long for her.

SHE IS AN ANGEL. I mean, absolute, 100%, grade-A, undiluted angel. She makes an effort to engage with everyone and really make eye contact with you, speak to you for as much as she can, and is just naturally her sweet and funny self. She then took selfies with everyone, where I told her my name was “Carrie, like the movie” which is my default at Starbucks because then people know how to spell it. She fake scared and pretended like she was ducking her head and going to walk out, which we shared a laugh at before our picture.

I missed most of Karen David’s panel, but right afterward was COLIN!!! Tired panda did his best to wake up and be his silly, smartass self, bless his heart. I’m so glad he said he wished there were more to the KnightRook story because he feels like there’s more to explore with that and HARD AGREE, COL! Also massive, MASSIVE shoutout to Overthinker for her crazy awesome questions!!! You are indeed worthy of being his favorite!!! Also, props to @the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt for her original question about craft services. Dudes, the things we don’t think about!!! I need to try a grilled cheese with pickles now, that sounds AMAZING. OH! OH!!! AND HE DID THE WORM! AND SANG! How were we this #blessed?!?!

We then had a hot minute (or roughly 30) before KNIGHTROOK PANEL!!! Guys, those two and their dynamic will never not kill me. THOSE TWOOOOOOO!!!! HOW PERFECT ARE THEY?!?! I think their humor together is priceless and she’s like a damn coffee bean to him. It’s a good thing I like odd things because I CAN’T EVEN WITH THEM. (:smirk:) AS IF THAT WEREN’T ENOUGH he goes and kills us with his Millian answer and I see Mabs and Milah vibrating into the ether.

After that is almost immediately autographs, where they had us line up for Colin then head over to Rose. They tucked tired panda behind this black curtain, and Mabs, Capt, and I coordinated getting various things signed for us and others. When I told him something was for someone who had contributed to the Whitecaps charity, he replied, “Oh! Very good.” Then he got my spyglass and went all childishly curious, peeked inside the box, then raised his eyebrow and gave me a smirk.

Then it was off to see Rose, who was taking more time to talk to fans, which is understandable given the fact that Colin had a longer line and Rose also can’t seem to help herself. Chesty gave me her badge so I could get a second autograph, like a friggin champ, and I had Rose sign the spyglass and also had the title page of the manuscript I’ve written (I NEED TO FINISH EDITING IT) and told her it was a 1920s Alice in Wonderland retelling, and I thought having her sign it would be a good luck charm. She sounded super enthusiastic about it and wrote a long note for me on it, which I will for sure cherish forever!!!

OH! And on my way to get into the Rose line, I hear someone say my name and LO AND BEHOLD, IT’S @leiandcharles!!! HUZZAH!!! I probably sounded like a spaz because I was on a Colin and Rose high and was all over the place but she pretended to not be terrified of the insanity that was me… ANYWAY!

It was then time for dinner. With the pub PACKED TO THE GILLS, especially after there was a bomb scare at a nearby hotel so the people there had to come over to ours for a bit, a group of us went up to Capt’s room to hang out and get pizza. I’m probably going to blank on everyone that was in that room, but I do remember dragging Leia there, meeting @coaldustcanary, Overthinker kicking over my drink and being roasted about it by Chesty (still makes me giggle!), and generally being a nuisance with Capt, Mabs, and Milah while Fraddit, and Lill went off to introduce Chesty to Chipotle. It has since changed her life.

At some point we declare we should hang out at the pub again, and a group of us went to go shoot the shit until Mabs passed out right there in the booth (CALLIN’ YOU OUT, POPS!) and everyone was sufficiently either toasted or tired. Some of us then venture up to my room, and shenanigans ensued. THUS ENDETH COLIN AND ROSE DAY!

Sunday:

While I was sad this seemed like a less crazy day for us, I was also a bit relieved because hot DAMN was I tired after the day before. Still, we didn’t have much time to really collect ourselves because the Mills fam gold panel started at 10, so a group of us wandered down to breakfast.

We then get in to see Andrew, Lana, and Bex, where Lana and Bex were of course hysterical together, Andy looked cute, and you could feel the collective vibrating of all Regina and Zelena fans which was adorable. I mean, I love Regina, but there was some LOVE in that room from her Evil Regals. I do wish Andy had gotten a bit more attention or had been a bit more vocal, but it’s got to be hard to not just let Lana and Bex own the stage.

There was then a decent break before Bex’s panel. That woman, as you all likely know, is HYSTERICAL. She kept the room laughing through most of her panel, and you can see she has nothing but love for her fans and her costars.

After her panel, I don’t have anything I’m too fussed about until 2 (MILAH WAS ROBBED IN THAT VID CONTEST, BTW, JUST SAYING) and so some of us gather together for lunch in, you guessed it, the hotel pub! Dudes, our options were limited and it looked like a library and had loaded potato soup. What more do you want?

It’s then time to MEET LANA, where me, Mabs, and Capt try to strategically settle ourselves somewhere out of the way but close enough to the side door to get a good look at the queen as she walks in. And, DAMN, that woman is gorgeous! Me and Capt then leap into the line where she proceeds to get two very adorable photos done and then I get pulled in to get hugged by Lana (!!!!!!!!!) while Capt hugs her from the back. She was super sweet and patient the whole time with everyone, and you could really see how much she loves spending time with her fans.

We then decide some of us need shots because some of us (*cough* Capt *cough*) are about to pass out from being so near Her Majesty’s presence, and then we wander into the ballroom for Henry Squared’s panel. Andy was adorable, Jared was typical Jared. I’ll be honest, I don’t have anything from that panel that seems to stick out to me as a solid memory, though maybe that was the whiskey shot’s fault.

Then comes Lana’s panel and, once again, you can feel the energy of the Evil Regals in the room. For however silly Colin, Rose, and KnightRook panels are, HOLY DAMN Lana panels are just filled with all sorts of emotions! It was like a damn rollercoaster! I laughed, I teared up, I was generally all over the place. SO MANY FEELINGS, GUYS. It was delightful but also made me just desperately need to laugh about fart jokes with my fellow Colin heathens. WE DON’T KNOW EMOTIONS.

Sadly during the following break, it is time to say farewell to the spun sugar that is Lillpon. I console myself knowing I’ll see her again, but it’s depressingly others’ last time with her, but ONLY FOR NOW. Yes? Yes.

Next up is autos with Andrew and then Lana. Andrew was a sweetheart. I was standing next to Capt and Mabs, where we proceeded to tell him how great we thought he was in season 7 and how much that season and his performance in it meant to us and brought back some love for the show. He seemed genuinely touched and said it meant a lot to him to hear that. Bless that boy.

We then wait a bit for me, Capt, Mabs, and Milah to venture up for Lana’s autos. By the time we got to her, we had this whole strategic thing planned out where I’d bring up S7 Hooked Queen, Capt gets her Hooked Queen picture signed, and Mabs gets the word for Capt’s tattoo. Lana says she did expect when they started that she thought Hook and Regina were going to be a thing but alas. Oh! And Mabs tells her that they’ve got family from the same area of Sicily, where Lana proceeds to say they do kinda look alike, and it is now confirmed #fam.

With everything over, we head once again to, YOU GUESSED IT AGAIN, the hotel pub. Chesty and Fraddit have already settled in and eaten, and me, Mabs, Capt, Overthinker, and Milah get ourselves all ordered up where we both mourn the end of the weekend and still buzz from the high the last three days had given us. A series of more shenanigans ensues, and none of us are ready for the weekend to be over. I’m pretty sure we collectively tried to drag it out for as long as possible.

For one last hurrah, we then venture to the pool again and meet up with @reginamotherfuckingmills and @agntreginaskywalker, where we all debrief and collectively laugh about the weekend, in addition to getting all into our feels about how Swan Queen fans and Hook fans are being all chill and friendly with each other. WHO KNEW PEOPLE COULD HUMAN?!

It was a fantastic end to the weekend, and there were more days ahead that involved ridiculous conversations in the car (Thicc Lady and Pointy Boi! Is this Central Park?! etc), meeting Mabs’s ENTIRE FAMILY, hearing Chesty lose her mind several times, enjoying super Long Island experiences with them, Milah, Overthinker, and Fraddit, and so on. Some of us also went sailing on a tall boat later, where we hoisted the main sail and felt like proper pirates! Then there was just general hanging out, but I won’t bore you further with that.

Instead, I’ll bore you with shoutouts!

@lillpon DESCUSTANG!!! You’re such a damn delight. Both sharing a bed and hoisting the main sail with you was brilliant and I love you forever. YOU MET COLIN!!!

@queen-mabs-revenge What are words? I have none. And if I started I’d probably turn into a mess so FARTS BELLY PT CRUISER POINTY BOI FARTS! I’ll probably emotion at some point and send it to you in private and then go run off to watch bloopers or something to get back to some sort of state of normal.

@fraddit SEVEN?! WHAT’S IN THE BOX?! Resting judge face or no, you’re fantastic, I love you, and you’re forever welcome in my apartment! Or basically anywhere with me.

@thesschesthair You funny asshole, I don’t know what I would have done without you to be there to say jokes as foul as mine. You were such a good sport about me being an annoying shit. I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed we can celebrate your birthday with a Captain Charming shindig!!!

@justmilah You’re so sweet and so funny and just damn precious. I LOVED going to the American Girls store, traipsing around Rockefeller Center, exploring actual Central Park, getting Millian and Knightrook feels in the AMNH, and wasting time at Johnny Utah’s with you. You’re always welcome!!!

@captregina Mah darling! I’m so glad and relieved that you had a good experience! You earned it, and I’m excited to talk about it over brunch with you.

@theonceoverthinker YOU FAVORITE PHD GENIUS! Stellar questions from a stellar person. It was amazing to hang out with you and we should do it again soon!!!

@the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt You’re a precious angel and it was delightful to meet you! I’m so glad you felt welcomed into the fold. But, of course you were! You’re wonderful!

@brave-lassie From one “mom” to another, thanks! Also, you’re a sweetheart and YOU MAKE AN AMAZING RED!!!

@leiandcharles @freifraufischer @coaldustcanary @reginamotherfuckingmills and @agntreginaskywalker IT WAS LOVELY TO MEET YOU ALL! And thank you for being so patient and awesome with some of the shenanigans.

[powerandmagic]

HEARTWOOD: Non-binary Tales of Sylvan Fantasy is the newest anthology from P&M Press.

Across time and cultures, humanity has spun tales about the forest: tales of caution, adventure, rites of passage, and discovery. Some of those stories persist as the folklore and fairy tales that delight our imaginations today, and the forest remains a symbol for facing the unknown and emerging transformed.

This anthology is for everyone who’s walked through the undergrowth, in the silence of nature, and longed for an adventure of their own to unfold. These stories of modern-day sylvan fantasy will showcase the best non-binary cartoonists of our day, guiding characters like us into the woods and back again.

Submission Period

Submissions will be open to the public from October 16th - November 13th. (A line-up of preselected creators will also be unveiled throughout this period!)

Who Can Participate

We want submissions from people who identify as nonbinary, genderqueer, agender, bigender, neutrois, twospirit, genderfluid, demigender, trans fem or trans masc, and other genders outside the “man or woman” binary. 

For team submissions, at least the writer must meet the above criteria. If two submissions are equally matched, the all non-binary team will be prioritized. Use #TeamHeartwood (Tumblr or Twitter) to find teammates!

Age Restrictions

All contributors must be 18 years or older. All content must be suitable for readers as young as 14 years old.

Specifications

Comics from 4 - 12 pages long

6” x 9” trim size (template provided)

Bleed? Yes.

Black & White or Grayscale (no screentones please)

600 dpi

Timeline

Selection Process (October 2017 - December 2017)

Project Announcement - 2 weeks

Open Submissions - 4 weeks

Final Selection - 2 weeks

Work Period (December 2017 - July 2018)

Creator Portraits - 1 week

Script + Thumbnails - 8 weeks

Pencils - 10 weeks

Inks - 6 weeks

Grayscale - 6 weeks

Letters - 2 weeks

Bios - 1 week

Kickstarter (Fall 2018)

Compensation

Contributors to our first anthology were paid $100/page plus Kickstarter bonuses. In keeping with P&M Press’ founding goal of increasing pay with each successive campaign, HEARTWOOD contributors will be compensated at $105/page plus any Kickstarter bonuses.

Contributors also receive a minimum of 10 complimentary copies of the anthology, royalties on all digital sales, and royalties on any print runs of the anthology after the first printing sells out.

Rights

Creators will cede exclusive first worldwide print and digital rights to their stories for a full calendar year from the date of publication, and non-exclusive worldwide print and digital rights in perpetuity. Ownership remains with the creators.

What We Want

Previously unpublished stories.

Forests. Jungles. Decaying structures reclaimed by nature. Trees, trees, and - oh yeah - more trees! Deep, lush settings that have character. (If you absolutely hate drawing backgrounds/characters interacting with their environment, you may want to sit this one out.)

At least one protagonist must be non-binary.

At least one non-binary protagonist must be human (they can be half magical-species-you-made-up, but their gender should not be portrayed as a “fantastical” result of that).

Stories set now-ish (a hard date isn’t necessary, but keep the human fashion and any tech to post-1990 and pre-2030).

Movement from one space to another (entering, leaving, traveling), literally and/or metaphorically.

Personified aspects of the natural world (e.g. whispering winds, walking plants, talking animals, etc).

Original fantastical creatures/beings.

Discovery and Understanding.

Tests (of will, wits, ethics, etc).

Person Allied With Nature.

A spirit of adventure!

What We DON’T Want

No fan works. No auto-bio. No prose. No one-off illustrations.

Stories that basically amount to “protagonist realizes they are non-binary and explains gender to the other characters/the reader.” Your character can come to understand their gender better by the end of the story, but there should be a plot beyond that.

Meet-cutes. (“Two people meet and crush at first sight, the end.”)

Horror: this includes horror tropes, body horror, classic horror monsters like werewolves or vampires, popular cryptids/urban legends like Slender Man or the Jersey Devil, and so on. Your story can use fear and danger as plot elements, but if instilling fear/existential dread in the reader is the overarching theme, this is the wrong anthology.

Tolkienian fantasy: no elves, dwarves, orcs, etc. We won’t freak out if you make something up that’s very loosely(!) inspired by any of these (unless it replicates the problematic elements of Tolkien’s work, in which case your work will not be accepted).

Cursing is permitted as long as words aren’t used literally (i.e. “Shit, you scared me!” as opposed to “Let’s go shit in the woods!”) and are used very sparingly when used at all. In general, we’d prefer not.

No porn. No references to specific sexual acts. No explicit nudity whether sexual or non-sexual (sorry, folks). “Consensual fade-to-black sex between legal adults” is fine.

No depictions of abuse (sexual, physical, psychological) whether pictorial or written. Characters may vaguely reference (in non-graphic language) abuse that they have suffered in the past if doing so serves the story or is integral to the character (i.e. maybe the story is about a survivor working on their agoraphobia by going on what they believe will be a brief, non-magical hike...).

No gore. People can get hurt, bleed, die, etc, but not in a grossly over-the-top way that fetishizes violence.

No slurs, no racism (not even “fantasy racism”), no misogyny, no transphobia, no ableism, no xenophobia, no white supremacist nonsense in general. (And please, no stories whose sole purpose is to teach that these things are bad.)

Ready? Here’s How To Pitch

Send us an email at powerandmagicpress@gmail.com with the subject line “Heartwood Pitch” that includes the following information/attachments:

The name, pronouns, and role of everyone on your team (or just yourself for solo submissions). Give the name(s) you want used during communications with you, marketing of your contribution, and credits in the book (even if those are all different).

A working title and page count for your comic (doesn’t have to be exact).

A synopsis of your story, including a beginning, middle, and end. Spoil everything, but try to keep it under 500 words.

Preliminary sketches associated with your pitch: character ideas, important creature designs, environment concepts (the latter is especially important if your portfolio lacks strong examples of background art), etc. These don’t need to be final or polished pieces! Just detailed enough to give us an idea.

Links to any relevant publishing credits (whether you’re writing the comic, drawing it, lettering it, or doing everything yourself). Self-published works and webcomics count as credits! Choose examples that best reflect the style you intend to use for this comic. You may simply include a link to your portfolio if you have no pre-existing credits, but please note that folks with sequential storytelling examples will receive preference.

Tell us about yourself, your cultural and artistic background, and why you want to be in HEARTWOOD. Short and sweet is best!

More Questions? 

Check out the FAQ. If your answer isn’t there, Ask away!