#thinking of sprucing up all the museum ones

[bagog]

N7 Month, 2023 - Day 30: Last Stand

It's been real fun everybody, thanks for reading, and let me know what your favorites were!

Mshenko museum piece for the finale.

++

By mid-morning, the Alliance Military History museum was as busy as it was going to get for the day. Shepard and Kaidan, both clad in non-descript hoodies, dark glasses over their eyes, had been slowly making their way around the Shepard exhibit in the Reaper War wing of the museum. They’d avoided one exhibit in particular so far, but at last they had worked their way all the way around and only had one thing left.

There was an eye-catching sign that read ‘Last Stand’ and on a smaller sign below: “Experience the final three minutes of the Reaper war with Commander Shepard.” There were two entrances spaced wide apart, but it was clear that one was an entrance and the other an exit from the ‘Last Stand’ experience. Above the entrance was a bold ’21:13:43’ and above the exit was ’21:14:55.’ It evoked a popular symbol after the war had ended. A lot of people had a tattoo of the time—to the second—when the Crucible wave hit where they were hiding or fighting. The second the war ended.

“We don’t have to do this one,” Kaidan said, glancing at Shepard over the rim of his glasses.

“We’ve seen everything else.” Shepard’s brow was furrowed, “Might as well top-off the experience.” He turned and gave Kaidan a reassuring smile.

“I’m just saying,” Kaidan shrugged, “There’s not any three minutes of London that I’d like to relive, much less whatever three minutes they’ve picked out here.”

“What do you mean?”

“’21:13:43,’” Kaidan pointed to the exit, “That’s not London Local Time for the wave. It’s a good twelve minutes earlier.”

“Oh, Shepard nodded slowly, “the run-up to the transport beam.”

“Definitely not a moment I’d like to remember,” Kaidan said carefully, checking Shepard’s expression. Shepard had an excuse if he wanted it.

“Let’s have a look.” Shepard took a quick breath, then offered Kaidan a smile. Their audio queued when they cross the entrance threshold.

“These are some of the final moments of the Reaper War, and three minutes that would determine the fate of the galaxy. Constructed with data directly taken from a FOB monitoring Shepard’s position.”  

The audio continued to set the scene: Hammer Squad, Thannix Missiles, heroic names—Shepard nudged Kaidan when ‘Spectre Kaidan Alenko’ was mentioned—and the transport conduit. The exhibit itself was a dark tunnel, on either side a gigantic holographic layout of the broken London street that served as the run-up to the transport conduit. The conduit was represented by a holo near the exit, and where Shepard and Kaidan entered represented 550 meters south: where Hammer Team made their final charge. The audio would trip at key moments as patrons made their way through the hall. By this time, there was another group just ahead of them, but it was dark enough where they felt comfortable taking off the sunglasses.

Shepard was represented on the holo by a yellow ball with a pinging halo emitting from it. As they approached, it began to move toward the transport beam, dodging blasts and avoiding rubble the holo hadn’t rendered, resulting in a somewhat comical display. The audio was aware:

“Forty-five seconds. Commander Shepard runs straight at the beam, or as straight as the situation allowed. Harbinger began repelling the advancing forces, indiscriminately targeting both individual soldiers on the ground and also the ground and air vehicles. You can see Shepard zig-zagging back and forth, likely avoiding rubble or attempting to make himself a more difficult target.”

“Why do you think it’s only me up there? They should have data for every marine out there that day?”

“It’s your exhibit,” Kaidan offered lamely. “Plus, I don’t think seeing all those little… flickering lights go out would be a very stirring exhibit.” Shepard nodded gravely.

The yellow ball raced down the hill in real time, and after forty five seconds, stopped abruptly. It then went backwards.

“Forty-two seconds. That’s how long it took Shepard to call down the SSV Normandy and evacuate a number of marines wounded in the battle. You can see him take up a defensive position behind cover, then race forward—possibly supporting the weight of another wounded marine—when the Normandy arrives.”

Sure enough, the yellow ball ‘limped’ over to where a holographic Normandy had been generated. The ball stayed there, though, for another thirty seconds, nearly.

“Twenty-eight seconds. That’s how long Shepard lingered at the Normandy, likely ensuring as much time as possible for further evacuations. The Normandy’s cyber warfare suite was a surprise for Harbinger, and silenced, for a time, its blasts.”

They were catching up on the other group now, who were talking between themselves, bent over the holo with interest.

“Twenty-eight seconds,” one whispered to the other. “That’s forever in a battle like this, huh? Geez, makes you wonder what was going on.”

“Probably was just giving some orders or something,” said the other. “…I wonder if he thought about just… flying away?” They both chuckled, then grew quieter as they proceeded to hurry through the rest of the exhibit when Kaidan and Shepard got closer.

“I did,” Shepard whispered to Kaidan, pulling Kaidan’s hood just to the side so his lips could almost to the shell of Kaidan’s ear.

“Did what?” Kaidan turned. Shepard looked over his shoulder to see that the other patrons had drifted away.

“I did think about just getting on the Normandy, flying away,” he said, softly.

“No you didn’t,” Kaidan cracked a conspiratorial grin. “Not for long if at all, at any rate.”

“I did. I thought about leaving with you. Thought about it just long enough to make it hurt when I had to turn away.” Shepard touched Kaidan’s hand. “The exhibit doesn’t talk about it at all, but do you remember what you said during those ‘twenty-eight seconds?’”

Kaidan looked at Shepard warmly, looking through him, in some ways. “I, uh… I think I told you to let me finish the fight!” He laughed.

“You said ‘Don’t leave me behind,’” Shepard replied. He lifted Kaidan’s hand, softly ran his thumb over the man’s knuckles, his ring. “And I told you I loved you. And you said it back.”

“Yeah,” Kaidan said, voice thick. “Yeah I remember that.”

“It was the first time we’d said it to each other.” Shepard pointed at the yellow ball, lingering behind the Normandy hologram. “That’s what I remember about those twenty-eight seconds.”

“That’s sweet, Shepard,” Kaidan touched Shepard’s face, gave a little smile. “That little yellow dot is about to go through a whole lot of shit in the next 10 minutes.” Shepard nodded, aware even now of the various cybernetics implanted into his body after this battle. “I’m sorry you had to go through it alone.”

“You were waiting,” Shepard said, at last. “That’s what matters.” Kaidan looked over his shoulder once more before leaning in and kissing Shepard. Shepard leaned back with a wry smile, “I think I’ve had enough hero worship for one day, what do you say we get out of here?” Kaidan nodded and took his hand. They slipped their dark glasses on and strode out of the museum arm in arm.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Every Little Thing *He* Does is Magic, Chapter 2

Pairing: Platonic Steven Grant x Reader (for now)

Rating: T

Word count: ~800

Story Summary: The events of Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, retold from Reader's perspective after the fact to her best friend.

Tags/Warnings: Companion fic, canon Divergent since Steven still works for the British Museum post-canon, No Jake Lockley, developing friendship, spoilers for ELTSDiM

A/N: Double update since this one is so short! Proceed to chapter 3. 😉

“...So how did the rest of your first week go?”

Y/N smiled as she FaceTimed with Amy while making herself dinner the following Friday night. “It went well! Most of it was reading paperwork and meeting various benefactors and trustees, but my meeting with the Curatorial staff today was really productive. The Egyptian exhibit should only be closed for a few days at most to install the new artifacts.”

She paused to take a sip of water. “Steven made a great suggestion to bring some vases up from storage to spruce up the Ancient Greek collection, which can literally be done overnight, so we'll be updating that area as well.”

Amy grinned. “ Steven did, huh?”

Y/N nodded, ignoring Amy’s suggestive tone. “He also had a lot of really great, out-of-the-box ideas on how to improve the tours and said he could have a sample tour based on those ideas to show me by Monday morning.” 

“Oh that's great! I know you were hoping to have the tours redone before those new artifacts are in place.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, but I felt bad because I probably shouldn't have had Steven do any VES-related tasks until he officially started on Monday even though he signed the paperwork today. After he and I wrapped up our solo meeting he mentioned needing to get back down to the gift shop since he was technically still employed as a clerk until Sunday.”

Amy winced. “Oh oof, yeah, I'm sure that's an entirely different pay grade, although from what you’ve said it seemed like he didn’t actually mind doing tasks for his new position early.”

Y/N shook her head. “That’s what I thought too, but then he clarified that it was only because he knew I was busy and he didn't want to bother me by… how did he put it? Oh yeah, ‘hovering’.”

“Oh, okay, good. That was really considerate of him.”

Y/N nodded, a small smile forming on her face at the memory. “Yeah, he definitely seems like he's a really caring person. I told him he wasn't bothering me and that after staring at a mountain of paperwork and meeting a bunch of people with tangential connection to the museum it was nice to be able to actually talk to someone on staff.”

Amy winked. “Specifically him though, right?”

Y/N huffed out a laugh. “I have to admit, it definitely didn't hurt that it was him. Anyway, he asked me how I was settling in and I said that the staff had all been really welcoming for the most part and that I wasn't sure how I was going to be received since I'm not British, and then he said that it didn't matter where I was from, that my qualifications spoke for themselves.”

Amy raised an eyebrow, her lips turning up in a smile. “So basically everything I said when you were freaking out about everyone hating you.”

Y/N huffed out a breath, a smile on her own face. “Yeah, yeah, you were right. He really did have to get back downstairs after that though because I had a phone call I had to take.”

“So do you think everything is going to work out?”

Y/N nodded. “Everyone seems on board with the changes I'm making so far, and I really do think Steven’ll make a great Visitor Engagement Specialist -- he’s incredibly knowledgeable and observant.”

“And hot,” Amy added with a smirk. “And exactly your type.” 

Y/N’s face heated. As much as she’d tried over the past week, she couldn't completely ignore her attraction to Steven. “Maybe, but that has nothing to do with my belief in his ability to do his job or why I promoted him in the first place.” 

Amy let out a light laugh. “I know, I'm just teasing you.”

“Either way, I'm looking forward to seeing his ideas for the new tours in action.” Y/N paused. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, in addition to the Egyptian artifacts on loan from Cairo, we just had a donation of first editions of several classic British novels come in.”

Amy’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, now you're speaking my language.”

Y/N grinned. “I thought you'd be interested in that. I'll send you some pics once we get them authenticated and the display is set up.”

“Please do.”

Y/N nodded as she turned off her stove. “I should run, my dinner is ready. I'll talk to you later though, ‘kay?”

Amy nodded. “Okay, talk to you later.”

“‘Night, Ames.”

“‘Night!”

Y/N ended the call then plated her food.

As she sat down to eat, her mind drifted to Steven. His ideas for revamping the tours really were great and Y/N was excited to see them in practice.  I can't wait until Monday.

[mala-sadas]

Sandals

Steven receives a surprise visit from Zinnia. She won't tell him why she came, but he suspects there's more to it than just wanting to chat...

Length: 1,612 words

If you’d prefer: [Read on AO3]

Steven yawned as he walked up the steps of his front porch. It had been a long day, and he was ready to just throw himself on his bed and conk out. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his key, and–

“Finally! I was beginning to think you’d never show up.”

He startled, dropping his key on the ground. A familiar laugh echoed from above him, and he glanced up to see Zinnia sitting on the edge of his roof. As soon as he made eye contact with her, she jumped down, landing beside him, and snatched the key off the ground.

“Why’d you have to get one of these?” she said, spinning the keyring around on a finger. “If you just kept your front door unlocked like everyone else, I could’ve made myself at home inside while I was waiting. A plush velvet couch is way more comfortable than a roof.”

Steven bit back the urge to tell her that he kept his house locked specifically to keep out people like her. They might have been on friendlier terms as of late, but he still didn’t trust Zinnia near his rock collection unsupervised. Knowing her, she’d try to use a rare geode as a massage ball.

“Sorry to inconvenience an unexpected guest,” he said dryly, taking the key away from her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Aw, Stevie, I know it always brightens your day to get a visit from me,” she said, shooting him a saccharine smile.

Steven rolled his eyes and unlocked the door. He wouldn’t put it like that, but Zinnia’s spontaneous visits to his house had been happening more and more frequently, and he had found that he didn’t mind it at all. After spending all day forcing courtesy to Devon Corp employees and the Pokémon League board, it was kind of refreshing to get some sarcastic banter with Zinnia.

She followed him inside and glanced around the room. “Hey, did you redecorate recently?”

“No,” Steven said, slipping his shoes off by the front door.

“Thought so. It looks as drab and impersonal as always,” Zinnia said, starting to step out of the entryway. Steven snapped his fingers, and with a sigh, she slipped her sandals off beside his shoes before stepping onto the mats that covered the floor in the rest of the house. “You really need to do something to brighten up the place. It looks like a museum in here,” she said, glancing at the display cases on the opposite side of the room.

“I’m not putting away my rocks,” he said sternly.

“I know, I know!” she said, holding up her hands in a “stop” gesture. “I’m just saying, a little bit of decoration would really do wonders to spruce up the place. Repaint the walls and the cabinets, swap out the curtains for something colorful or patterned…ooh, and add a beanbag chair! That’d be fun!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

“Those sound like wonderful ideas…for your own house,” Steven said, dropping his bag on a chair in the living room.

Zinnia pouted and flopped down on the couch, throwing a hand dramatically across her forehead. “I can’t afford a house.”

“You don’t want a house.”

“Details, schmetails,” she said. “I don’t have to live there to decorate it.”

“Well, I do own a villa in Sinnoh,” he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “If you’re that eager to decorate a house, I could let you decorate that.”

“Too far away,” she said, waving a hand vaguely. “And you don’t–”

She cut herself off, and Steven tilted his head. “I don’t what?”

“Never mind,” she mumbled, rolling onto her side to face the back of the couch.

What was she going to say?

Pushing his curiosity aside, Steven turned away from her and headed to his bedroom to change into something more comfortable. But as he closed the door behind him, the thought occurred to him that Zinnia might have done that whole performance just to get him to let his guard down. He quickly reopened the door, but to his surprise, Zinnia was still lying on the couch exactly where he left her, not taking advantage of the opportunity to steal his food or mess with his rock collection.

How curious.

He took off his suit and put on a casual shirt and shorts instead. Then he headed back to the living room. Zinnia was still lying exactly where he left her, uncharacteristically quiet. He cleared his throat to make sure she knew he had come back. “Would you like some water? Or a snack?”

She let out a long sigh, so he knew she had heard him. After a few more moments of silence, she finally said, “Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug.

He headed over to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. As he took a sip, he turned back towards the living room and saw that she had rolled onto her back and was watching him. As soon as she realized he’d seen her, though, she turned her head back to look at the ceiling.

“Have you ever dated anyone?”

The sudden question startled him and almost made him choke on his water. “I…a couple, when I was a teenager,” he said. “Since I became Champion, I haven’t really had time for it. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” she said quickly.

Steven picked up his glass and walked back into the living room. As he sat down in an armchair, Zinnia finally sat up and looked at him, then cast her gaze to the coffee table.

“Did you ask them out, or did they ask you?”

Steven blinked, blanking for a moment on what she was talking about. “Oh – they asked me,” he said. “We went on a couple of dates, and I decided I wasn’t really feeling anything, so I broke up with them.”

“Ah.” Zinnia let out a heavy sigh and stood up. “Never mind, then.”

She darted towards the door.

“Wait!” Steven called, dropping his glass of water on the side table to chase after her. He grabbed her hand just before she could grab the doorknob, and she glanced up at him. “Were you…hoping you could get some advice on how to ask someone out?”

Zinnia stared at his hand around hers, and he quickly dropped it, afraid he was making her feel uncomfortable. She lowered her hand, but still avoided looking at him. “Maybe.”

Steven chuckled, shaking his head. “You could’ve just said that from the start,” he said.

“Whatever,” she mumbled, glancing to the side. “Look, if you – if someone was going to ask you out, how would you want them to do it? I don’t… I’m not…”

“You’re not used to this sort of thing,” Steven guessed.

“I want to do it right,” she said. “This guy… I think he’d appreciate that.”

Steven nodded appreciatively. “That’s a good attitude to have,” he said. “Beyond that…I don’t think there’s one right way to ask someone out. I can tell you a couple of things not to do, though.”

“Which are…?”

“Don’t be sarcastic or insult him,” Steven said. “If you do, he’s not going to take you seriously.”

She grimaced. “I’m no good at that.”

“You’re doing it right now, aren’t you?” he said with a smile.

She looked flustered at that, turning away and opening the door. “I-I should get going,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Wait, one more thing,” Steven said. “Who is this guy that you wanna ask out, anyways?”

“None of your business,” she retorted.

“It’s just…you’re not a very social person,” he said. “How many guys do you even know besides me?”

“Oh, I know loads of guys,” she scoffed. “There’s Brendan…”

“A child.”

“Wallace…”

“He doesn’t swing that way.”

“Uh, there were a bunch of guys in that team I joined…”

“And you don’t even remember any of their names,” Steven chuckled, shaking his head.

“Who’s to say I remember yours, Rockman?”

“You just said it when you arrived.” he said smugly. “Face it, there’s no other guy you know well enough…”

He trailed off as the pieces finally clicked into place. He’d gotten so caught up in the urge to prove Zinnia wrong that he hadn’t fully considered the implications of him being right.

Zinnia chuckled, dipping her head. “I should’ve known you’d be sharp enough to figure it out,” she said. “It’s one of the things I like about you, after all.”

Before he could finish processing the implications of that statement, Zinnia spun on her heel and darted out the door. She was long gone before he could do anything more than call out her name.

Zinnia…likes me? Enough that she wants to ask me out?

Maybe it was for the best that she had given him time to think about it. If she’d asked right then and there, Steven didn’t know what he would have said. He’d grown fond of Zinnia, sure, but was that enough to want to date her? For as many attractive qualities as she had, she had just as many flaws. And, like he said at first, he didn’t know if he would have the time to commit to a relationship with all the other responsibilities he had.

And yet… Dating Zinnia…

Steven smiled to himself and headed back inside, closing the door behind him. He didn’t lock it this time, though. When Zinnia came back, he would have an answer for her, and he suspected that that’d happen sooner rather than later.

She’d left her sandals right next to his, after all.

[noneknxws]

ok so like. I been thinking.

———

It’s not exactly exciting on this server, Aimsey thinks. Not that he wanted it to be, because that might be even worse than being normal, but it’s definitely not very fun being alone. They met Eryn, who’s pretty cool, and some other people (Tubbo looked familiar, but she can’y quite remember why) but that’s about it. So, they’re going on a walk around the server. There has to be someone also walking around, right?

This server is actually very beautiful, with the usually clear blue skies and the healthy grass (in some areas). There’s the random building or structure too, or there’s the occasional scattered debris. Aimsey reminds himself to ask about that. He’s been walking on this path for a while and has seen a few figures, to which he waved, but they just ignored him. Rude. Except for one, dressed in a hedgehog onesie, but he was accompanied by a very tall and big piglin-type hybrid. Aimsey… didn’t really wanna go up and talk to them, especially with the giant ax the piglin had held.

“Well,” Aimsey says aloud dejectedly, “that’s it for me, then.” They’ve followed this wooden path for a while now, and they’re nearing the museum again. Passing it, he does sort of want to go inside, but it’s also getting dark out and he’s tired. He’d rather go to sleep in his bed than on the spruce floors of the museum. Also, trespassing.

They hum a song stuck in their head, walking along the path for the last time of today, headed home past that big burnt-ish oak house, when they realize- ‘hey, there’s actually another person here!’ They smile, fueled by pure excitement, speeding up their walking a little to see who the figure crouched by the side of the path is. As he approached the stranger, though, it’s really not who he expected.

“Guqqie?” They whisper, stopping on a dime. Because it is, it’s her, with the purple hoodie and the blonde hair- hair that’s gotten pretty short since they’ve seen her, they note- and the tail curled around her leg. It’s Guqqie and she’s alive and Aimsey doesn’t even know how that worked but they’re running at her anyway because holy shit, she’s here. With them again. Aimsey practically tackles their best friend, hugging her tightly.

“Guqqie!” Aimsey is definitely grinning right now, and then they get fucking judo-flipped. Which, in Aimsey’s humble opinion, is not a nice way to be greeted.

“What the fuck?” Guqqie says, but her voice is much deeper and a little sarcastic and overall different than what Aimsey is used to. And Aimsey takes that moment to realize, hey, this isn’t Guqqie at all.

“Oh,” Aimsey says, and their voice is flat. “Sorry.”

The person glares at them, “no need to sound so disappointed. It’s not my fault you’re on the grass right now.”

“Kinda is,” Aimsey points out, sitting up, and not-Guqqie glares at them harder before completely looking away. “Sorry, I just thought you were my.. friend. You look really similar.”

Not-Guqqie looks like they’re about to say something, when they hesitate and glance back to Aimsey, who’s dusting off their pants. “Your friend is an alien hybrid? Who looks like me?”

“Yeah,” Aimsey perks up, “you know them?”

Not-Guqqie rolls their eyes, “I might, if you give me their name.”

“Oh,” Aimsey tugs their hat onto their head, “Guqqie. Her name is Guqqie, and, well.. I really thought you were her. Same.. everything.”

Not-Guqqie freezes, their tail curling around their leg. “You know my sibling?”

Sibling? Guqqie never mentioned a sibling, but now that Not-Guqqie says it, Aimsey can definitely see the resemblance. Blonde hair, purple eyes, freckles, eye markings, tail, same hoodie, it’s.. really freaky, actually.

“My sibling,” Not-Guqqie repeats, a little harsher, “you know them? They’re alive?”

“Oh.” Aimsey says. “Yes.”

One of those questions is a lie. But Aimsey can pretend it isn’t for a little bit.

———

I DON’T KNOW HOW TO WRITE YAYYYYYY *cries*

I made this at like 7am dont judge my brain ok? ok

[cuemeinyall]

Sometimes, I think about old minecraft worlds and servers of mine. My first one will always be special. I remember the godawful, horrid, brick monstrosity of a "skyscraper" I built. The bottom floor acted as a traditional work office. There was a fake elevator with a ladder to go up. The third or maybe fourth floor had my living space. A small kitchen plus dining, a living room, bathroom, and bedroom. I was so proud of the space. Outside, there was another building, my chicken pen. Another skyscraper-esque build, this time of plain stone. Between them laid my pack of wolves. I can't remember their names. I eventually moved, wanted to start a survival style, and kept to the same world, though.

I wasn't the brightest, moved from a wonderful forest to a barren desert. I was probably 500 blocks away from my old base, so it was probably not much of an issue, though. I built this small, one-story sandstone home. It had a small garden out front. It may be the smallest build I've ever made. It was cute and quiet. I had a dog, kept it outside, I don't think I ever made it a home, or even gave it food and water. I regret that now.

I shared a world with my sibling, too. We only had one xbox account, so we would take turns on it. I kept with the ugly skyscrapers made of brick theme, but she made a small house and an unfinished mansion. A friend sometimes played on it, too. Built an ugly house behind mine. I'll never forgive her. We built an entire town, complete with restaurants, stores, hell we even built a museum. I miss that time my sister and I spent together working.

A friend and I made a world together. She played on her phone, me on the xbox. I built this small dark oak house. She claimed it was the best build on that world. She never really had a home there, I think I built her something small, but she was happier picking flowers. Netherite came out then, I had rushed to get some for myself. Kept a hidden stash of it. I built a baked potato store, best food in the game, in my opinion. We stopped playing after that summer, she got too busy and since she wasn't there I had no one to show off to and no one to help obtain items form.

I stopped playing for a while. It was my first year of high school, and I joined the marching band and went out with friends. I thought the time would last. Freshman year came and went, got on minecraft a few times, revisited old worlds, started a new one, god that world. Goddamn ugliest acacia wood house you've ever seen. I loved that piece of shit. Sophmore year came around, and I stopped again. Covid hit. Fell back into mcyts and a job to fill the loneliness.

I bought a laptop with that money. Saved up for 5 months straight, I bought a good gaming laptop. Couldn't afford any games, though. I eventually got convinced by new friends to buy minecraft and join their realm. We shared a house the two of them built. One of them I fell in love with. We explored, slayed the ender dragon, defeated the wither, laughed, and died alongside each other. We had mines nearby. Bird and I once mined for days looking for a jungle biome and diamonds for Sun's birthday. I went insane in those mines. Sun built a villager trading hall. Bird and I started a storage room. I built a gazebo, across the pond from our spruce house. Sun was mad at first, I made it of oak instead of spruce, but they eventually thought it was beautiful. I planted flowers, azeala bushes, and those glowberry vines. Bird brought over her jukebox and a record. We brought our dogs. My dog, Tilly, named after that mcyt Pearlescent Moon's dog in the life series, was one of my pride on that server. Damn I miss her. She was a good girl. She still sits at the gazebo waiting for me. After all, life got busy, and we stopped playing.

I made some more friends. One invited me to join a server they were on. It was a factions server. We allied but kept our personal factions separate. I built a beautiful white, gray, and teal tower. They had a beautiful cottage 200 blocks away. They bullied me into fighting the ender dragon solo, as I've only fought it with friends before. We built a tavern, well I built it. The plan was to make a conjoined city together for people on the server to visit. During the building of it, another friend joined the server. We finished the tavern, added food, fake prices, and decorations. They lived in it temporarily in one of the rooms I had set up for those new to the server to start out in. Barely a week of the tavern being finished, someone took tnt and blew up portions. We were able to get it replaced, but I'll never forget that destruction. The first friend and I then started a fighting pit build. Planned to host server wide fights for entertainment. Cleared out a large area and almost finished it. The server randomly closed. All the love we put in our work was never finished.

We convinced a friend to start a server a few months later. A bunch of us from the first server and some others joined in. I built another tower, the same style as the other one, just dark grays and blacks, instead of blues and white. I shared it with a friend. I slowly started moving out. I started work on a castle, made of diorite. It's mostly done, just some walls to build for the courtyard, but it's been months since I've done work on that. I had made it far away from the rest of them, all close together. I invited them to make small bases near mine, to fill out the area, have a vacation home. Only one person ever finished theirs. I went on to my next project, The Hole. A giant underground city, below my castle.

Everyone tells me I'm not going to finish it. I'm the only one who still plays on the server constantly. I feel like this says something about me. I feel as I hold on to things too tight and don't let go. I still want to go get on the xbox and play with my sister, I want to call up my friend from middle school and show off a new, admittedly, mediocre house. I want to sit in my gazebo with Tilly and talk with my friends and go crazy in the mines again. I want to finish that fighting pit and jokingly fight with my friends and watch as they all complete the fucking stupid initiation event of fighting an ender dragon we called Jean, while the rest of us watched from our perches. I want to sit in my castle with a feast for my friends, I want to finish my build and everyone to come see it and be so proud.

It's never been about the builds. It's been about the effort, the time, the tears, and laughs. The time spent with people I care about doing the thing I love.

[the-firebird69]

Karn Evil 9 - Emerson, Lake & Palmer

He worked on this together it's not solved and it's a pain it's a war but it would have been over and I am pleased that he's my son-in-law and yeah we have to get going on something this is terrible we will and things are moving and the firebird is moving it and the carnival will move it now and it's Barnum and Bailey and it will be Ben Arnold and Mack Daddy as the remastered and ringleader and we don't know which is which they say it too they switch off but this is going to be great this song is from something to do with this event and how we're trying to start it they said that the big top is over there at the outlet really is the mall and it's going to be spruced up and they do have the high wire act and trapeze Acts they don't have too many animals that can start up again and then is looking forward to it and other animals too and then is laughing. So it's a good time but we're going to go ahead and try and get ready I think I have an act and I get what he's saying we're going to go up there and try and do Acts and you do it in Sarasota and we're trying to get into the Big top and we will try and get into the carnival and that's how you do it there's people who do snake performances and it's kind of illegal but that's what they do and mines is kind of a classy act doing a jazzercise they don't really pay you but if you do music musical stuff and it's nice they do drop a few bucks and it's a nice hat or a nice violin case or instrument case and they are respectful and the museum people don't bother you in a few more acts would go up there and believe it or not it's going to take a while but having a summer entertainment schedule for real would be great we have small stuff there indoors but and I'm kind of the family and it says yeah and we are doing it we have the different circles but we are in that circus too so I know what to do and I can get it going and I can help and then Arnold and mac daddy talk to me at all the time so I'm going to get into it and he appreciates it he says this is going to be fun I want to see him with that weight I want to see him get big and he's kind of a weightlifter and he's quiet and silent and concentrates doesn't like any in fights and doesn't like to hurt people it's not his deal and right in on a big boss house or something would be so much fun and I can bring it he doesn't have to have one

Ken I'm laughing because sometimes there's a crazy guy but he's careful with the machine and it's too big he's saying whoa he drives off into the ocean I think it's kind of funny cuz he's getting around

He says he thought he saw Jen going on to a yacht okay that's bad it's like a dog after a cat and that's what it is he says

You're crazy but you're my man and you better not do that but yeah I look a little like Kat von d this is insanity the guy will be going nuts be full of testosterone and other crazy things when he's growing I can see him driving down that wharf anyways

Hera

Okay we're not going to allow him on that motorcycle not ever he's just going to chase after her that's some craziness

Olympus

[allthingslinguistic]

All Things Linguistic - 2021 Highlights

2021 was in many ways a very meta year: most of my writing projects were reflections on the social functions of various other projects I was working on. But those other projects were very interesting both to do and to reflect on, such as coordinating LingComm21: the first International Conference on Linguistics Communication, and redesigning the Lingthusiasm website. (Might they also reflect how under-socialized I got by a certain point in this pandemic? Hmmm.)

I was honoured to be the recipient of the Linguistics, Language, and the Public Award from the Linguistic Society of America in 2021. I put up my acceptance speech as a blog post.

Media and crossovers

How Linguistics Can Help You Learn a Language – I did a talk for Duolingo’s DuoCon

Why do adults…over 40….use ellipses…so much? Crossover with Tim Blais of Acapella Science

xkcd Tower of Babel

Why Shakespeare Could Never Have Been French (video with Tom Scott)

PUZZLE SPOILERS: A quote from Because Internet in the New York Times acrostic

Someone made a crossword puzzle of Because Internet!

Peeking face, palm up, and palm down – the emoji I proposed with Lauren Gawne and Jennifer Daniel are now officially in Unicode 14.0 and will be coming to your devices in the next few years

Media

BBC Word of Mouth – The Shipping Forecast

I’m cited in a Wikipedia article about boomerspeak

I’m quoted in a New York Times Wordplay piece about ending texts with a period.

Lauren Gawne and I did a Lingthusiasm crossover appearance on the NPR show Ask Me Another, featuring two fun quiz segments, one on accepted or rejected emoji and one on famous book titles

Crash Course Linguistics

The final three videos of Crash Course Linguistics came out in 2021, although it was largely a 2020 project. Here’s the full list again so they’re all in once place, or you can watch them all at this playlist.

What is linguistics?

What is a word? Morphology

Syntax 1: Morphosyntax

Syntax 2:

Semantics

Pragmatics

Sociolinguistics

Phonetics 1: Consonants

Phonetics 2: Vowels

Phonology

Psycholinguistics

Language acquisition

Language change and historical linguistics

World Languages

Computational Linguistics

Writing Systems

Each video also comes with a few companion links and exercises from Mutual Intelligibility and a list of all of the languages mentioned in Crash Course Linguistics is here. It was great working with the large teams on that project!

Lingthusiasm

In our fifth year of Lingthusiasm, a podcast that’s enthusiastic about linguistics which I make with Lauren Gawne and our production team, we did some general sprucing up, including a new cover photo (now featuring a jacketless Because Internet), a new portrait drawing, and a new website (for which I wrote a long meta process post here). We also did our first virtual liveshow (as part of LingFest), introduced new bouba/kiki and what the fricative merch, and sent patrons a Lingthusiastic Sticker Pack. Here are the main episodes that came out this year:

Where to get your English etymologies (transcript)

Cool things about scales and implicature (transcript)

Corpus linguistics and consent – Interview with Kat Gupta (transcript)

That’s the kind of episode it’s – Clitics (transcript)

Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Theory of Mind (transcript)

A Fun-Filled Fricative Field Trip (transcript)

Making machines learn Fon and other African languages – Interview with Masakhane (transcript)

Not NOT a negation episode (transcript)

R and R-like sounds – Rhoticity (transcript)

How linguists figure out the grammar of a language (transcript)

Listen to the imperatives episode! (transcript)

Writing is a technology (transcript)

And here are this year’s bonus episodes:

Linguistics puzzles for fun and olympiad glory

Linguistic 〰️✨ i l l u s i o n s ✨〰️

Lingwiki and linguistics on Wikipedia

Q&A with Emily Gref from language museum Planet Word

Sentient plants, proto-internet, and more lingfic about quirky communication

Language under the influence

Gotta test ‘em all – The linguistics of Pokémon names

Lingthusiasm liveshow: The listener talks back (on backchannelling)

Talking to babies and small children

The episode-episode (reduplication)

Conferences and Talks (all virtual unless noted)

Planet Word, the new language museum in Washington DC, about internet language and Because Internet

Slate’s Future Tense about the meaning of emoji with Jennifer Daniel.

I moderated a panel for the European Chapter of the Association for Computational Linguistics (EACL) on NLP Applications for Crisis Management and Emergency Situations.

Contestant on Webster’s War of the Words, a virtual quiz show fundraiser for the Noah Webster House, and also attended online conferences,

guest interview about internet language on That Word Chat (summarized in tweet form)

The Internet is Making English Better at Yale with Claire Bowern

Internet Linguistics and Memes as Internet Folklore with a student at the University of Oklahoma

Sotheby’s Level Up in Los Angeles (physical)

Unicode Conference in the San Francisco Bay Area (physical), where I did a keynote called “Taking Playfulness Seriously – When character sets are used in unexpected ways” (slides here!).

The Unicode talk isn’t online but a few days later I did a talk on the same topic for Bay Area NLP, for which the video is here.

Virtual talk for some internal folks at YouTube

Rosemary Mosco Talks to Gretchen McCulloch about Pigeons, a book event at Argo Bookshop

Conferences/events attended:

Linguistic Society of America (LSA) – did a Wikipedia editathon

American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS)

Dictionary Society of North America conference

Annual meeting of the Canadian Linguistics Association

WorldCon (physical)

LingComm and LingFest

In April, I co-organized a pair of new events related to linguistics communication: LingComm21, the first International Conference on Linguistics Communication, and LingFest, a fringe-festival-like program of online linguistics events aimed at a general audience, which contained a total of 12 events attended by a total of over 700 participants. One of those events was our first virtual Lingthusiasm liveshow: here’s a fun thread that I did about backchannels while we were getting ready for the show.

LingComm21 had just under 200 registrants, around 100 of which were formally part of the programming in some way. My opening remarks and closing remarks are here as blog posts, and see the #LingComm21 hashtag for highlights of what people noticed about the conference. We then wrote a 6-part blog post series on the conference as a case study in making online conferences more social, in hopes of helping other people who are interested in better virtual events.

Why virtual conferences are antisocial (but they don’t have to be)

Designing online conferences for building community

Scheduling online conferences for building community

Hosting online conferences for building community

Budgeting online conferences or events

Planning accessible online conferences

Selected tweets

Books and more

A Memory Called Empire and the latest Murderbot novella, Fugitive Telemetry

The Language Lover’s Puzzle Book

History of Swear Words on Netflix

Helpful threads

Analysis of camera angles on tiktok vs youtube (a thread with, unexpectedly, Hank Green)

Generational differences on email salutations, a topic of never-ending public fascination

Threads on conference “homework” and zoom fatigue

Modulo and other obscure English prepositions (a thread)

robot voice in tone languages (short thread)

given that we’ve been living with a giant panda for the past year

Conversation styles

teach students how to email you

Lack of diversity in childhood language acquisition studies

Why kids these days don’t understand file systems

buy your older coworkers a nice linguistics book

A thread about research debt

vocal fry is completely fine

A many-layers-of-screencapped-post citing Because Internet on youth socialization made the front page of Reddit, so I’ve added some further reading

Linguistics fun

Happy feast day of St Gottschalk, patron saint of “languages, linguists, lost vocations, princes, translators”

A thread of linguistics versions of the roses are red meme

Ellipses in vintage recipes

Not Haunted: new favourite example of implicature

Vaccinated every 8 seconds: new favourite example of quantifier scope ambiguity

A bagel with cream cheese: new favourite example of structural ambiguity

In appfreciation opf pfinally being pfurnished with the Pfizer vaccine I will be pfroducing all opf my voiceless bilabial stopfs and pfricatives as apffricates pfor the next pfortnight.

“you may injure…” new favourite example of deontic vs epistemic modality

garden path ads

Linguistics takes on the “for the better, right?” Padme/Anakin meme

lips are a social construct

linguists are really not kidding when they say that your command of language enables you to understand sentences never before said by the human species: bacteria/Michelangelo edition

bouba vs. kiki outfits

tell Duolingo to add IPA

On average linguistics familiarity

linguistic phenomenon reducing capitalization

Zipf’s Law

phonetic boundary ambiguity: chris pratt

linguistics takes on the “did it hurt?” meme

Enweirdening words through AI magic

#MetGala2021 as linguistics books

haunted trunk implicature

emoji reaction research idea

Mario epenthesis

Japan’s new prime minister, Britney Spears crash blossom

red flag on unicode support

linguistics Halloween candy

IPA card catalog

memes and emojis are folklore

Canadian English spellcheck

boō, bōare season

Zoom linguistics studies incoming

linguist puzzles

phonetic beatboxing

is this outfit bouba or kiki

warblish

the feminine urge to make your adjectives agree with your nouns

linguists on a bus

General fun

business larping

Wellerman but in emoji

they taste bland when I fall

A thread of emoji poems

multiocular sideeyes emoji

A thread of linguistics-y place names

French accents and icicles on tiktok

Suez meme: ordinary conversation topics vs noticing something about the language

Convaxulations

A double dactyl about the www

A nice festive machine translation fail

The “CDC says” meme takes on linguistic discrimination

A limerick about my podcast

Dendronization

landline emojis

writing gifs by hand on paper

Hangul children’s book

“left to our own devices”

multi-time-zone days of the week

plamps

srùbag

phonetify wrapped: most used phoneme and zipfy unwrapped

glottal on a bottle

xkcd on relevance implicature: debunking

the linguist urge

Finnish pronouns and sarcasm

teach a person how to look up the etymology of “fish” and they learn for a lifetime

the Double Empathy problem

conjugating Christmas

Christmas plural you form

Pinguinuca and Antipinguinuca

verbing tetris

Grice’s maxim of relevance in photo caption directionality: male bison edition

Selected blog posts

I celebrated my ninth blogiversary on All Things Linguistic! Here are some of my favourite posts from this year:

Linguistics jobs

metadata specialist and genealogist

legislative drafter

technical writer

CEO of a SaaS company

social media lead (for NASA)

senior analyst

academic linguist

Linguistics fun

Linguistics Games online

“Indeed, old man” in Middle Egyptian

Linguistics Halloween jokes

Beatboxing in IPA

The kiki to bouba pipeline

Dinosaur Comics on the “I dunno” hum

Scuba, an exotic English word meaning “to keep breathing even though the water rises all around you”

Self-referential words for places of articulation

Languages

It’s Complicated/Because Internet on why teens socialize online

The fight to save Hawaii sign language from extinction

The art and science of beatboxing

The linguistics of hyperlinks

Pitch, intonation, and the role of technology in language description

The origin of language and interspecies communication

A McGill student and professor realized they both speak Mi’kmaq; it changed everything

ancient translation to badger

Pronouncing words in English (by Chinese speakers)

An interactive visual database for American Sign Language

On standard dialects

Meta and advice posts

Superlinguo’s year in review (involving many joint projects with me and also finally getting tenure!)

I reposted a classic “how to twitter” (from a social perspective) post of mine from 2016, which people tell me they still refer to occasionally

How to get started in writing pop linguistics, both short form (media articles) and long form (books)

How we made a better podcast website for Lingthusiasm

Missed out on previous years? Here are the summary posts from 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, and 2020. If you’d like to get a much shorter monthly highlights newsletter via email, with all sorts of interesting internet linguistics news, you can sign up for that at gretchenmcc.substack.com.

[hypmic-writings]

Hifudo plays Animal Crossing New Horizons together :D what will they do .

━━ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ━━

Characters: Hifumi Izanami; Doppo Kannonzaka

Genre: Fluff; Platonic

Warnings: None

A/N: Full disclosure: I’ve never actually played Animal Crossing before in my life. I had to look up the gameplay and everything about it, so I apologize in advance if these headcanons aren’t the best! Huge thank you to @yukiko-otomiya for helping me make sure the game info was accurate and adding some great ideas~

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

Hifumi was the one who first bought a switch and he started playing Animal Crossing on it after one of his fellow hosts suggested the game

it’s on a lazy weekend night that he shows the game to Doppo, and although the latter doesn’t really want to play it, Hifumi convinces him to do so

immediately, both of them are hooked

Doppo loves the soothing music and the soft colors while Hifumi instantly wants to build his village as fast as possible

and that leads to both of them having extremely different gaming styles

although at the beginning they usually only played the game when they were together, Doppo was quick to buy a switch for himself, wanting to make his own island

one of Hifumi’s favorite things to do is building his home because he loves styling it and taking the time to make it look pretty

he’s also the type to change the decor depending on the season and always keep up with the latest trends

he also always talks to all of the villagers whenever he sees them and this can annoy Doppo, especially if Hifumi’s in the middle of doing a task

“Hifumi, stop wasting time talking to the villagers and lets get going already!”

“How dare you say this is a waste of time? Look at how cute they are!”

and true to form, Doppo slowly over time ends up really loving the villagers and all their little quirks and personalities and the presents they give him

he feels like he really belongs on his island with all his villager friends

Hifumi also really likes to throw parties in the game and even Doppo has to admit that it’s kind of cute 

Hifumi loves to buy lots of clothes to customize as well and will spend house just changing the clothes on his character

he also has a bunch of flowers that he grows and tends to, saying that he can never let a beautiful rose wilt, even if it’s just 2D

when Doppo first starts building up his village, he’s going to be a little frustrated with how slow the gameplay is at first

but after a while, he’ll realize that he’s not playing it to win, he’s just playing it to relax himself and he’ll stop taking it so seriously 

Doppo’s absolute favorite thing to do in the game is tend to his garden 

he’s planted a huge variety of plants, trees, and vegetables and he always likes to make sure it’s doing well

likewise, he also likes to dig for things to find, like buries treasure or fossils because he thinks it’s relaxing

also absolutely plays the turnip market and tries to make as much money in-game as possible

sometimes Doppo can get intense with the game, wanting rare or limited items

and this definitely leads to him getting scammed from time to time

and then Hifumi’s basically forced to other players’ islands to trade his items

but most of the time, Doppo plays after work and he wants nothing more than something mind numbing that will relax him

the one thing both Doppo and Hifumi love to do is fishing

whenever they visit each other’s islands, no matter what they do, they always end up fishing together

they definitely tell Jakurai about this afterwards and the doctor might actually be persuaded to buy himself the game if only for the sole purpose of fishing

Doppo and Hifumi always love to visit each other’s villages, sending each other things the other need and sprucing their island up a bit

there’s a little cafeteria in the museum and the both of them always go over there to have cute little coffee dates together

overall, they both enjoy the game and they always make it a point to have a roommate night where they can play together

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[year2000electronics]

legion of stationery swap au w/ toads!

red streamer: colored pencils swaps with curator toad

why this supply was chosen: curator enjoys using the museum to give praise to mario’s various achievements, and even has a trophy room, much like a highlighter is used to give a bright coloration to the most important parts of a text

how they change:

 as a ‘tacky’ office supply, the curator toad would probably attack overlook tower bc it’s ‘not noteworthy enough’ and try to spruce it up by attacking it bc ‘this tower should be one fit for a king!’

as a regular old toad, colored pencils isnt nearly as monstrous, even missing his eyesore hair highlights. instead he’s a curator who’s just a tad too snooty, and this causes him to beg mario on his hands and knees to come visit, because his visit numbers at the musee are at an all time low

blue streamer: mc toad swaps with rubber band

why this supply was chosen: since i see mc toad as rb’s kind of ‘understudy’, i wanted to pick something that reflects that- an office supply that keeps things clamped together, but a different supply from a rubber band

how they change:

instead of an abandoned theme park and finding all the trapped toads near the end, you free all the staff across the park from mysterious clips- only to realize youve spelled your own doom as youve just been freeing the parts to binder clip the whole time. hes an actor like rb is but only does one show which is shogun studios themed

as a regular toad, rubber band is the one employee at shogun studios whos overly passionate at their job- rb is definitely friends with the hardcore roleplayers you meet at the beginning of shogun studios, and she will loudly call other employees out if he hears them dropping the facade 

yellow streamer: professor toad swaps with hole punch

why this supply was chosen: a magnifier and anything like it is used to make things bigger and easier to understand, like a professors job would be! however it also serves as an opposite to hole punch because when combined with the sun, a magnifier can easily turn deadly

how they change: as an office supply, prof is STILL obsessed w the sun altar! only this time hes more enamored with the POWER of the sun. so he tries to harness the power of the sun as much as possible and delves into the temple of shrooms to learn more about these ancient ones who wrote this stuff

as a toad, hole punch is also a researcher, but hes also a clout chaser- think of him as the flint cragley of origami king. hes notorious for being a hit with the unknowing public, but many a scholar complain that this little devil will accidentally break SO many historical artifacts

purple streamer: captain t. ode swaps with tape

why this supply was chosen: obviously bc the comparisons of a mathematical compass and a direction-pointing compass, but geographical tools like these are often used for cartography- plus i thought a tool so specific could give t ode a bit of a ‘lone wolf’ reputation among the legion

how they change: t ode wishes to explore the seas, and he’s marking down the coordinates of every island he sees- so what if he destroys the island in the progress? he’s an EXPLORER! and the ocean will be his map! if mario doesnt stop him, he might even bust open diamond island by force... leaving no stone unturned

meanwhile, tape is an adventurer like t ode, but instead of having mellowed out, hes about the guy youd expect to do bullshit like steal a submarine for the quirkiness of it all. also his ‘ancient one dialect’ is just the brooklyn accent. hilarity does ensue 

green streamer: shangri-spa toad swaps with scissors

why this supply was chosen: since the shangri-spa toads are all white (likely thanks to exposure to the stream of jungle mist), liquid paper would be a good equivalent to a ‘colorless’ supply that erases things in a similar way

how they change: since theres no one distinct shangri spa toad npc, its more the idea that a ‘head’ shangri spa toad would become liquid paper and said liquid paper would adopt a ‘holier than thou’ attitude and cover up anyones ‘ugliness’ with said liquid paper so that shangri spa can be ‘perfect’

meanwhile, scissors is the lucifer of the shangri spa ‘angels’- those dark spots are just dirt bc she hates looking like a toad, quit her job when bowsers castle crashed into shangri spa and has been nagging kamek nonstop into letting her join bowsers army instead

stapler stays the same (sorry buddy)

olly also becomes a second partner to mario in this au, and replacing him as the origami king is...

oh yknow

[liyuesbian]

✧ pygmalion!au [ningguang]

notes: btw idk how commissions from museums work i just made the process up LMAO and this one's kinda angsty? i mean, it is the pygmalion greek myth so iykyk. also, i describe this figurine of ningguang here but w/o the colour... i've linked it in case any1 needs the reference. (btw, this is not set in ancient greece specifically)

only yesterday had you been commissioned by an art gallery in the capital to create a piece for their up-and-coming collection titled desire, love and identity. yet here you are, slaving away to make the perfect image you had in your head come into fruition. your vision is exquisite once sketched on paper—you can't find any faults in it so you take the risk.

as soon as your chisel meets the marble, a feeling so invigorating dominates your body. no further references are necessary as you place your trust entirely on your hands, coarse from the labour. you find such mindless toil addicting and you work day and night, only stopping for a half-baked meal and the odd collapse into bed.

for months, love streams out of the tips of your fingers and through your sculpting tools to arrive at the stone figure. you sincerely hope the intimate emotion has been reached.

when you finish, you wipe the bead of sweat running down your forehead, rest the other palm on your hip and take slow steps backwards all while maintaining eye contact with the statue. a wave of sweet relief hits you and you fall to the floor, uncontrollably sobbing into tired hands that still grip the hammer and chisel.

it's beautiful.

you stagger, struggling to get up with your bruised knees while clumsily wiping the tears off your stained cheeks. setting the instruments aside, you lift your head to admire your handiwork up close. a woman made of stone sits elegantly atop an oriental chair, crossing her smooth, white legs over each other. her left elbow is propped on the arm of the chair while on the other side, a long smoking pipe is balanced between gloved fingers. around her lies an assortment of objects: a vase containing scrolls, a floor lamp, and a charmingly decorated folding screen.

you see, you had already thought it all out. you'd imagined ningguang's preferences for a life of luxury, her affinity for constructing and sprucing up interiors. she would be a master of the trades and a woman who likes to keep an air of mystery around her. and like how you increasingly project her to be more of a person than she ever will be, there is a creeping concern in the corner of your mind that you will lose your rationality just as quickly.

the sculpture's body is clad in a qipao with a slit that reveals alabaster skin below the waist. the dress—embellished with patterns and neat linings—hugs her figure and shows off a lean build. the extensive train and sleeves of the fabric are shaped curvaceously to mirror the flow of a waterfall. and her face. the section you strived so hard to refine. she stares at you with an imperious expression and a hint of a smirk. her gaze, so piercing, makes you avert your eyes in shyness but you find yourself gravitating back to her profile.

you muster up the courage to draw closer to your creation and unconsciously stroke her cheek with your thumb, captivated. if she were an empress, you'd be a common peasant—undeserving of setting your sights on such a goddess. you can feel your soul being sucked into eyes devoid of emotion—of anything, actually. after all, the woman sitting before you is not a person but an inanimate object.

the weeks following the completion of ningguang—which is the name you've picked up the habit of calling her—are spent in said lady's company. every minute of every day, you surround yourself with her presence as if she is your closest friend. you eat with her, tell her your troubles, even going so far as to decorate her with various types of jewellery and bringing her gifts you think she'd like.

"thank you," you whisper. "for always listening to me." in truth, you're always so immersed in your work that you forgot what conversations could feel like. though, you fear your art would never be on par with something so transcendent ever again.

you become curious, wondering what she would be like if the nymph in front of you were not just a figment of your imagination.

you perch yourself on top of ningguang's stone-cold lap and trace the contours of her visage. you inspect each crease on her lips and the minuscule crinkles in her eyes, applauding yourself for the well-crafted details. you don't know what possesses you but you close your eyes and press your lips against hers, hoping that once you open them, a living being would erupt from underneath the marble. but, of course, as soon as the light hits your retinas, ningguang is as unmoving as ever.

realising what you've just done, you drop off of her thighs and laugh anxiously. however, you could've sworn that you had felt warmth in the lips of your beloved muse.

"i've finally gone mad!" you cry aloud.

hell, you say to yourself, is it even possible to fall in love with such an... an artefact? you dismiss your glaringly obvious infatuation.

"nonsense," you mutter under your breath, sensing your heart breaking slightly. how can something so painfully humanlike also not be human at the same time? you must've caused a tremendous atrocity in your past life to have made the gods harbour a grudge against you. of all things, you'd never have guessed that a lifeless piece of art would be the object of your desire.

you can't bear to look at the handcrafted lady any longer and with an anguished face, cover her with a large cotton cloth. the plan was to wait until you could hand the statue over to the curators and try to ignore its existence until then.

for a few days, you act according to the plan, going about your daily routine but eventually, your stoic demeanour crumbles. you lock yourself in your room refusing to eat or believe that your affection would never be returned.

during the hours of sunlight, you weep under your sheets, drowning in self-inflicted sorrow. and at night, you do the same, lamenting over the loss of what could've been your true love. she would've been so perfect in your eyes, your other half, and the only one who could calm this growing turmoil!

the reality pains you. hence, you do the only thing you can do: you pray. you pray to the gods for a miracle, that the light of your life would stride into your room and pull you from the depths of despair... but she never does.

your last day "cohabitating" with the sculpture has arrived and for the first time in—what felt like—an eternity, you open the doors to your workshop. taking a deep breath, you unveil the stationary maiden.

it's still as beautiful as you remember.

you give it a sad smile, wanting to get its departure over and done with. you manoeuvre about the room to prepare the things for the movers who're due to come in a couple of hours. while you go down your little list of errands to be done, you cough and bat away the smoke—wait, the smoke? frantic, you spin around, eyes darting everywhere in search of its origin until they land on the smoking pipe you so intricately moulded for the commissioned piece.

it's strange, you don't recall colouring the statue. and how on earth is smoke coming out of the pipe? suspicious, you approach the motionless entity and almost stumble when you spot its chest rising.

oh lord! — i really must be descending into madness! you clutch your head, clawing at your hair in hysteria.

"stop, please don't hurt yourself." the sound of a low, worried voice penetrates your ears. you shut your eyes tight.

"no, the gods have cursed me! i mustn't listen to your poisonous words!" you exclaim. your state of agitation is alleviated when the woman caresses your tensed arm.

"what has happened to you? i haven't seen you lately either." the tone is more soft and more tender than you had imagined. you release your grip.

"is it really you, ningguang?" your voice cracks at the end, and the woman you sought after witnesses your features twist into an expression of longing and hope.

"yes, my darling. i dare not go anywhere else."

helplessly, you rush to cup her face to check for heat, for the blood traversing under her skin—anything that would prove that your sweetheart is truly alive and breathing. and when you do get the confirmation, you beam, trying to withhold tears born from elation.

you bend down to kiss ningguang, who is still seated on the chair, once, twice, and three times to rid your scepticism. oh, deities! she's real.

"i love you," you declare.

"i know." you watch as the same creases you'd etched on the corners of her eyes spread into a loving half-moon shape and you kiss her again.

you reach a conclusion: you couldn't give away your lover—let alone a live person—to be displayed as part of a museum exhibition so when the workers arrive, you hide your muse away in another room. you apologise profusely and spin a lie, rambling on about how you had nothing to relinquish for the piece you had prepared had been oh-so-viciously stolen by a mob of trespassers!

the movers share with you their sympathies and ask what the work of art looks like and maybe they could sort something out with the authorities. nodding, you recount—so ardently—the details of your divine maiden. you feel heat rush to your face, chuckling when you realise that you'd run your mouth for too long.

in response to this, the two labourers exchange dubious looks as they peer at the static sculpture standing in the middle of the studio—its appearance unmistakably matching your elaborate description.

[rodeoxqueen]

Dante, Vergil, and Nico With A S/O That Loves Art 

MidWayMC Requested: 

hello! I hope you're doing well! your fics make me smile a lot <:

I was wondering if I could get some headcanons about Dante, Vergil, and Nico with an S/O who is really into drawing/painting and art in general? and the S/O would absolutely talk to them about art for hours if they let them? I'm very soft for Vergil especially and I would definitely take him to an art museum as a date aha 👉👈 thank you!!

Dante 

He’s not much of an artist, he’s much more of a theatre kind of guy. But what would a play be without a gorgeously drawn setting? 

If you yourself are an artist, he’ll always ask the age-old question “Can you draw me?”

 As it is Dante, you just might relent your intended fury upon him. That mercy is revoked when he uses your art books to put on his face while he naps, possibly damaging the spines. 

He’s always down to listen to you about art. However, modern art absolutely baffles him.  

“Babe, if I could eat a couple pizzas and frame the boxes, do you think I could be rich like that Andy Warthog guy with the weird cans? I mean, we both have white hair.” 

“Warhol, Dante. His name is Andy Warhol.” 

“Mmkay.” 

When you take him to art museums, it’s a game of who can find a portrait that best resembles the other. He’ll give you his arm to hold while you point out each portrait and its relevance in human history. 

Dante is the bloke who poses like the sculptures and makes you cry laugh in the exhibit. 

After that, he’ll likely whine to get to the food court while you can look at the gift shop. 

He always gets the most garish and eye-straining trinket, leaving it on his desk to be hoarded with the others. 

“Dante, would you mind if I hung up some works of art around Devil May Cry?” 

“Well, you’re the only work of art around here that I can see. But actually though, put them wherever you want. The place could use some sprucing up.” 

Dante’s shop is full of terrifying devil arms but also art pieces picked by you. It’s an eclectic dream and nightmare come true. 

Vergil

He likes poetry, you like art based on poetry. It works. 

Vergil’s a good listener, he’ll be quiet and make “Hmm” noises as you make a point. 

He’ll read some of your books that you recommend so he can be up-to-pace with what you know. 

With your presence, he starts to appreciate art more and delving into artistic meaning. 

Vergil can be a little troublemaker when he wants to be, cutting open portals to any museum you want. Whether it’s too far or too expensive or exclusive, it’s no matter. He’ll do what he can to let you see nice things. 

In his downtime, Vergil prefers slacks and turtlenecks. Dressed casually for your dates, Vergil can get mistaken for a curator or an artist himself by other people. 

William Blake’s art is well-known and he always makes sure to see if any exhibits have any. You buy him the postcards from the gift shop that he keeps in his room. Dante used one as a plate for his pizza and Vergil chose violence. 

He doesn’t get jealous when you stare too long at some male sculptures. No, not at all. Why would he be jealous? 

He is jealous. 

If you’re one to personally partake in making art, Vergil will candidly become your muse. 

There’s an art piece that was a giant canvas of just a shade of blue that was sold for millions of dollars. It’s literally the worst thing you’ve ever seen and you make that known to Vergil. However-

He secretly really likes it. He’ll take it to the grave though. 

Nico

She considers herself an artist and you are an art connoisseur. She finds beauty in design and craftsmanship of arms. 

At the same time, Nico knows a lot about creating weapons and inventing all sorts of badass weapons. The two of you talk about your respective hyperfixations all the time. 

When you and Nico can go on jobs, she’s sure to drive by a local art exhibit to take you. 

You definitely do Bob Ross painting tutorials together in her van. She definitely mistakes paint water for her sweet tea. 

One date involved going to a pottery class where Nico giddily dug her hands through clay to sculpt something. She may or may not have sculpted a d*ck first before actually making something. 

While she drives, you talk to her about art. She can’t really hear you while she’s working on a project. 

Her van’s dashboard is covered in trinkets from the art museums. She also has a Van Gogh ashtray. 

She lets you hang some artworks on the van but her driving is so bad they go flying all over the place. 

“Ma’am you can’t smoke here.” 

“Damn.” Nico sighs as she stubs her cigarette on a sculpture. 

“Nico, no!” 

She gets one art piece you really love tattooed on her body. 

[razorsadness]

Things are slowly getting better. I’m still deep in grief about my uncle, and unsure how to process it. Everyone else who knew him is posting endless tributes on social media and I’m afraid that my not doing that will make it seem like I don’t care as much. I just—I hate being expected to perform grief, in a specific time frame or a specific place. I’ve been thinking of that thing I wrote in my zine in 2016, about how, to paraphrase, “I rarely ever cry at funerals or...other designated times where grief seems appropriate.” I’m the same when it comes to writing about loss. I write about loss and grief all the time, but I do it when I do it, share it when I’m ready, which is sometimes years later. I am still working on that article about my uncle’s bar, but writing about that is different than writing about my feelings, y’know?

My period started a couple days ago, so my mood has overall improved, and the cramps are finally fading as of today. (Fun fact: this is not the first, or even second, third, or eighth time I’ve gotten my period during Imbolc. Other fun fact: nine years ago yesterday, I broke my ankle in the pit.)

I’ve been celebrating Lunar New Year and Imbolc. For Lunar New Year: fresh fruit in a bowl, coins in the corners, and last night we made kung pao chicken and shrimp lo mein for dinner. For Imbolc: decorated my altar, made offerings to Brigid, made some art, did some spells, did a page in my art witch grimoire, did an Imbolc tarot spread while watching Patti Smith’s livestreamed concert for her Substack subscribers; we’ve got Guinness beef stew simmering in the slow cooker for tonight’s dinner.

Yesterday, D. and I planted some spruce tree seeds he got, we’re going to sprout them indoors then replant them in our yard in the spring. I’ve been thinking up ways to teach the kids about Black History Month; we’ve done some stuff already but I’ve got plenty of ideas for the rest of the month. One thing we’re going to do is visit the Racine Heritage Museum—I’ve been wanting to take them there on a field trip anyway, but I think this month is perfect, because there’s an exhibit there about Racine as a stop on the Underground Railroad.

Today I worked on some writing stuff that I’d fallen behind on, and did some work for the press. A lot of other small presses are closing their doors, and I get it—CoViD and the crushing pressures of capitalism have made me wanna quit plenty of times, too. But one thing about me is—if I really want something, I will not give up. I may lose money and sanity in the process, but I won’t quit. (Are you on a fool’s errand? Does the name Don Quixote mean anything to you?) Also, with all these other indie presses shutting down, that makes me even more determined to keep going. (Can’t stop, won’t stop.)

Right now I’m drinking Guinness, watching the Patti Smith livestream again because I love her so. We missed out on the storm that hammered other parts of the Midwest/Great Lakes region, but now we’re getting a ton of lake effect snow. Soon, the stew will be ready, and I’ll serve it with mashed potatoes and buttered sourdough bread. This weekend, I get to have a phone date with my bestie. Things are hard, but are looking up.

[the-unknown-storyteller]

concern for a friend

(week #1, prompt 3: excitement)

tw: mentions of derealisation, panic

Summary: Ranboo is working on the watchtower, as Ghostbur wanders off as the self-designated snack man. When the ghost doesn't return for quite some while, Ranboo is starting to worry for his friend. Just where is Ghostbur? 

__

“I will be the snack man and get us some snacks. You work on that tower real good and I’ll get us something, alright? Do you like savory or sweet things? You know what, I’ll just get a bit of everything. I’ll be right back, oki?” 

Before Ranboo has a chance to react, Ghostbur is up and running in the direction of Tommy’s dirt shack. Dusting off his pants from the climb, the ghost waves enthusiastically from the top of the hill, then disappears behind some trees and shrubbery. Ranboo releases a sigh, smiling fondly at the antics of the ghost. He gets out a stack of spruce logs and starts building up the pillars to the skies. He wonders why Tommy needs the watchtower to be this tall. Surely, it would have been enough if it was one or two thirds of its current height, it’s not like none of them have tridents. He’s pretty sure most of them have access to enderpearls as well. 

Nonetheless, he keeps to the height given by Tommy, diligently placing the spruce logs and replacing the strange purple planks at the sides with dark oak instead. It won’t be the prettiest watchtower, but it’ll be enough. Maybe Ghostbur can improve its design.

Speaking of the ghost, he’s been gone for quite a while now. Ranboo knows that he is more than capable of taking care of himself. But then he thinks of the ghost’s memory issues and his own problems with keeping himself tethered to the real world sometimes, blinking the wrong way and suddenly finding himself in an unfamiliar place. It’s happened one too many times for the enderman hybrid to be quite comfortable with this situation. (If Tubbo hadn’t found him that one time, he doesn’t know what would have happened. He doesn’t like to think about it.)

Ranboo begins to pack up his things, putting away the spruce logs in a chest and strapping his sword and axe to his back instead. Tommy will forgive him if the tower isn’t finished by tomorrow. He hadn’t given him a deadline, anyway.

He begins his journey up the hill, rounding the trees and shrubbery he saw Ghostbur disappear behind a couple hours ago and following the path towards Tommy’s abode. He keeps an eye on his surroundings and mentally takes note of anything that appears out of place. The air gets significantly colder, as the last rays of the sun disappear behind the horizon. It was getting late. He adjusts the leather straps of his weapons.

“Ghostbur?”, Ranboo calls out, knocking at the wooden door of Tommy’s shack. No answer. He opens the door with a creak and looks inside. There are some chests along the wall, a few of them placed smack in the middle of the place. He can hear the vrwooping sounds of an enderchest nearby, but no humming of a particularly musical ghost. He takes a step inside and makes his way down the stairs on the right, but nothing. The place is empty. 

He leaves the dirt shack behind and runs down the prime path, frantically turning his head from side to side, in the hopes that he spots the yellow of Ghostbur’s sweater or the red of his beanie. But no such luck.

“Ghostbur?!!” Ranboo starts calling the ghost’s name, noting how eerily empty and abandoned this place is. He spends all his time in the Arctic Commune or, more recently, in Snowchester, so he’s never stayed here long enough to notice, but this place feels dead. He can feel something crawl up his arms, shooting through his hands and making him shake them violently. 

“Ghostbur, where are you?!” He sends out a quick message to his friend, but there’s no response. Something isn’t right. The ghost should have responded by now. One might think that he would lose his communicator often, with his spotty memory and his clumsy tendency to lose most other things. But he’s actually never lost it and he always answers. 

“It’s fine, he’s fine. He probably just got fixated on a flower or went overboard on the snacks. He gets over-excited like that,” Ranboo reasons, taking the path down towards L’Manhole. The glass, preserving what was never meant to be, reflects the darkening sky above. He keeps a wide distance to the blown-up city, eyeing the red vines at its edges with worry. He sees neither yellow nor any red nor any blue, so he turns around and leaves the dead space to its own.

“Ghostbur??” Why isn’t he answering?! Night has fallen completely by now, the new moon trying its hardest to plunge Ranboo’s surroundings in complete darkness, but he just takes out a torch and lights the matchstick with a practiced flick of his wrist against the ground. 

The half-enderman roams the perimeters around Eret’s museum, focusing his hearing towards the near distance. Besides the undead groaning of zombies and the quiet clattering of skeletons, he can’t make out much more. Except for a quiet hiss. He barely has time to react, as he hears an explosion go off in the distance. Before he knows it, he is up and running in that direction. Images of a hurt Ghostbur, running through his brain. “Ghostbur!!” 

And then, he hears yelling and noises that sounds like sobbing and it makes him vwroop in panic and distress. His friend is in danger, his friend is in danger. He feels a lurch in his stomach and blinks across the field, reappearing at the steps of Eret’s museum. Doesn’t Eret usually spawn-proof his builds? Doesn’t matter right now. Ranboo runs up the steps, skipping the last flight, as he blinks out and appears in the middle of the build. Not here. Further away, beyond the wall. He takes out his trident and places some water, jumping the wall. 

During the highpoint of his jump, he can make out yellow and red and a lot of blue just beyond the river. He lets out a series of distressed noises and blinks away. His hands are starting to shake from jumping this often, but his friend is hurt, hurt, hurt and he has to hurry. 

He stumbles through his landing and tridents across the river, landing close to what is definitely Ghostbur hunched over, surrounded by blue, why is there so much blue?!! “Ghostbur??” He tentatively reaches for his friend and touches his shoulder lightly. The ghost snaps his head up, staring at the enderman hybrid. He flinches back in shock, blinking away a few metres further.

“Ranboo!!”, the ghost calls out, jumping from his position on the ground. “Oh my goodness, I must have totally lost track of the time. You see, I was walking along the prime path, looking for some snacks when I saw- oh, the snacks, Ranboo! I totally forgot about the snacks!! ” The ghost pats down his pants, then shuffles through the bag at his side. “Sorry, bread is all I have on me. You want some?” Ghostbur offers some fluffy bread rolls, but Ranboo is too stunned to react. Adrenalin is still running high in his bloodstream, making him tense and freeze up. What is happening? 

“Not a fan of bread rolls? Oh well, more for me and friend- oh my gosh, Ranboo, look who I found in the woods!!” Getting off-track again, Ghostbur whirls around and pulls something blue and fluffy towards the perplexed enderman. “I found friend!! He was just grazing on some grass and when he saw me, I saw that look in his eyes that told me that I should follow him and so I did! I don’t quite understand why he brought me here, this just seems like a normal clearing to me, but I mean, I trust him, he knows what he’s doin-” The excited rambles of the ghost are cut off by the heavy weight of two hands on his shoulders. He looks up and is met with the shiny wet eyes of a certain enderman hybrid. “Ranboo? What’s wrong?”, come the soft questions, as the ghost realizes that something must be wrong.

“Please never do that again.”

“Never do what again, Ranboo? I was just getting some snacks like I told you when I met an old friend, haha-”

“I understand that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, but you have to understand that you didn’t return for hours and hours until the sun set.” Ranboo takes a shuddering breath. “You didn’t return and you didn’t respond to my messages and then I heard an explosion go off in the distance and then I saw all that blue and I thought you got hurt and I-” His tail flicks nervously from side to side, thumping against the ground every now and then in distress.

“Ranboo, Ranboo. Listen, listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise that it was getting this late. I got distracted by friend and didn’t look at my communicator for a while.” The ghost takes out a light blue rock from his bag and hands it to the other. “Here, this will calm you down. Take some blue.”

“Thanks, Ghostbur.”

[easily-infatuated23]

The Mark of the Angel Part One: Discovery (11th Doctor x Reader)

Part Two

a/n: hello! in this story i am deviating from the lore quite a bit. i decided i wanted to create my own being and this is the transformation sequence. i’m not sure where this is gonna go so we’ll find out!

pairing: 11th Doctor x Reader, Amy and Rory on the TARDIS :)

word count: 1.5k

summary: The Doctor decides to visit a place he’s always wanted to go but didn’t know it. When the TARDIS drops him in the middle of the Reader’s flat, he finds something he didn’t know was hidden

warnings: none to my knowledge

Y/N POV:

Ugh. Moving. Moving house has always been one of my least favorite things. Growing up, my dad was constantly being relocated for his job which made making friends and getting any sense of stability difficult. But this move was different. It was my first flat all to myself. I had paid for it with my own money and I was’t planning on leaving any time soon. Or was I? As much as I hated moving, I loved getting to experience new places. When we moved from New York City to Paris, I spent hours exploring every museum and street I could. It’s the traveling I loved, the half hearted promise of staying put I hate. But this move was different. With a flat based in London, I could easily travel anywhere in Europe. I could hop on a train and be in France or Italy. This was going to be the start of an exciting time in my life and I couldn’t wait. But, before I can travel, I have to unpack my kitchen. Not the most exciting thing but it’s a step in the right direction.

TARDIS POV:

“Alrighty then” the Doctor said clasping his hands together. “So where are we going this time?” Amy asked excitedly. “Well, we are going somewhere I have always wanted to go.” There was silence. Amy and Rory looked at each other and then back at the Doctor. “And where would that be” Rory asked. “I have no idea” the Doctor said, a childlike smile spreading across his face. “Geronimo!” he yelled as he pulled down on the lever. The TARDIS whirred and groaned as it began traveling through the time vortex. “I set it to take us somewhere I have always wanted to go but never knew I wanted! Isn’t that brilliant?” The TARDIS jerked from side to side more violently than usual, as if it was battling within its self, deciding where to land. When it finally did, it dropped hard and fast letting out one last bellowing groan. Amy pulled herself up from the floor of the TARDIS, having been knocked around during the landing. “Great so you have no idea where we are” she remarked. “Perfect so we could be in the middle of nowhere or a volcano!” Rory added. “Or London” the Doctor said. “Earth, London, the year 2015, 11:30 am” he said with a slightly confused smile.

Y/N POV:

After finishing the kitchen I figured I should spruce up the entry way a bit. I opened a box labeled “decorative stuff” and pulled it over to the mantle above the fireplace. I pulled out a framed picture of my parents and a small clock. Then I pulled out a small pocket watch. I smiled. My dad had given it to me when I was 11. He said it belonged to my grand father and that I should take extra special care of it. Sometimes, it almost felt like the watch would just vanish but I always managed to find it. As I went to place it on the mantle I heard a strange whirring noise. I pressed my ear to the watch wondering if it had suddenly decided to start working for the first time but, as the sound grew louder I realized it couldn’t be coming from the watch. Suddenly, a giant gust of wind blew through my flat, nearly blowing me over. When the wind finally stopped I heard a strange groaning noise. When I looked in front of me, I saw a giant blue police telephone box. “What the hell?” I said. I slowly approached the box. How had this giant box gotten into my flat? Before I could think twice, I found myself knocking on the door. I mean what’s the worst thing that could happen?

TARDIS POV:

The Doctor straightened his bowtie. Before one of the three could say anything, they heard a small knock at the door. Amy and Rory looked at each other and then the Doctor. “Geronimo” he said, more quietly this time but with the same flair and excitement as his previous exclamation. He walked towards the door and opened it, poking his head out.

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

“Hello! I’m the Doctor, ah lovely place this is, who are you?” his was mind going a million miles a minute trying to figure out what was so extraordinary about this place that the TARDIS lead him here. “Uh hi I’m Y/N…sorry but how did you get in here? And is your name really ‘the Doctor’? And also-” but before I could finish two other people stepped out of the box. “Oh yes this is Amy and Rory, this is Y/N”. They waved. “Yes that’s nice but again um, why and how are you here?” I asked again. “This is the TARDIS, it travels through space and time” he said as he began to wonder through the entry way. “I set it to take me to the place I most wanted to go but wasn’t aware of” he said. I put my grandfathers watch on the mantle and turned to him. “So I am guessing you are some sort of alien” I said. He spun around to face me when his face suddenly dropped. “Where did you get that watch?” he said, quickly moving towards me. “Um it was my grandfathers, what does that have to do with anything?” I asked. “Doctor are you alright” Amy asked. “Yes yes fine” he said unconvincingly.

He grabbed the watch and walked towards the window, holding it up to the light. Amy and Rory went over to him, now all three of them had their back to me. “Whats so special about the watch?” I heard Rory ask. “This is not just a watch, this is a Gallifreyan device that holds the part of a Time Lord that makes them, well, a Time Lord. It’s usually used when a Time Lord has had to transform into something else, like for instance a….human.” The three then turned slowly and looked at me. “Whats a Time Lord?” I asked, taking a few steps towards them. “Y/N have you ever opened this watch?” the Doctor asked. “No why would I? It’s probably broken.” I replied. Suddenly my ears started buzzing. Then I could have sworn I started hearing whispers. “Do you hear that?” I asked. They all looked around. “Uh no, I don’t hear anything” Amy said. Rory just simply shook his head. I felt a stinging pain in my left shoulder,I rubbed it, moving the sleeve of t-shirt. The Doctor’s face dropped again. “Whats that on your shoulder?” I looked. The only thing on my shoulder was the small birth mark shaped like a pair of wings. “Just a birth mark, I’ve had it all my life…” I replied, looking at the Doctor sheepishly. “Doctor…” Amy said, as if trying to bring his attention back to the room. “On Gallifrey there is a legend about a creature, a God-like creature said to have roamed around the universe since it’s creation, some even say that it created the Time Lords, that it is the first Time Lord. It is known as ‘the Angel'. It is can take any shape but is always recognizable by a wing shaped mark somewhere on the being.” the Doctor said, a look of awe growing in his eyes. I could barely hear his words, the whispers had started shouting. I covered my ears but it didn’t help. “Doctor, is she ok?” Rory said. He spun around and looked at me. He handed me the watch. “Here try opening this” he said. He then started walking backwards with his arms stretched across his friends. “Stand back” he said. The shouting was growing unbearable. I glanced one more time at the Doctor, he nodded slightly. I swallowed hard and looked down at the watch. Slowly, I clicked the watch open and suddenly everything went black. Then, it happened. I felt a fire igniting within my soul. I felt light as air but also consumed by an unimaginable weight.

TARDIS POV:

Suddenly, the same wind that occurs when the TARDIS lands picked up again and started swirling around Y/N. “Doctor! What’s happening?” Amy yelled over the wind. “She’s waking up!” he yelled back. The Doctor watched as the girl who he had just met, levitated and her skin began to glow from the inside out. It wasn’t the same glow that escaped the Doctor when he regenerated, but it was nearly identical. “Seriously Doctor is she gonna be ok?” Rory yelled. Suddenly and just as quickly as the wind and spinning had begun, it stopped. The girl dropped back to her feet with her back facing the trio. They stood and stared, no one daring to say a word. Finally, the Doctor spoke. “Is the being known as the Angel standing before me?” he asked timidly, slowly making his way towards me. I spun around to face him. A smirk spread across my face as I looked down at my hands and then my surroundings. “You restored me. Thank you,” I looked at the Doctor and then at his TARDIS. “This is going to be fun”

TO BE CONTINUED

[sparklytastemakerwitch]

The ancient fabric that no one knows how to make

In late 18th-Century Europe, a new fashion led to an international scandal. In fact, an entire social class was accused of appearing in public naked.

The culprit was Dhaka muslin, a precious fabric imported from the city of the same name in what is now Bangladesh, then in Bengal. It was not like the muslin of today. Made via an elaborate, 16-step process with a rare cotton that only grew along the banks of the holy Meghna river, the cloth was considered one of the great treasures of the age. It had a truly global patronage, stretching back thousands of years – deemed worthy of clothing statues of goddesses in ancient Greece, countless emperors from distant lands, and generations of local Mughal royalty.

There were many different types, but the finest were honoured with evocative names conjured up by imperial poets, such as "baft-hawa", literally "woven air". These high-end muslins were said to be as light and soft as the wind. According to one traveller, they were so fluid you could pull a bolt – a length of 300ft, or 91m – through the centre of a ring. Another wrote that you could fit a piece of 60ft, or 18m, into a pocket snuff box.

Dhaka muslin was also more than a little transparent.

While traditionally, these premium fabrics were used to make saris and jamas – tunic-like garments worn by men – in the UK they transformed the style of the aristocracy, extinguishing the highly structured dresses of the Georgian era. Five-foot horizontal waistlines that could barely fit through doorways were out, and delicate, straight-up-and-down "chemise gowns" were in. Not only were these endowed with a racy gauzy quality, they were in the style of what was previously considered underwear.

In one popular satirical print by Isaac Cruikshank, a clique of women appear together in long, brightly coloured muslin dresses, through which you can clearly see their bottoms, nipples and pubic hair. Underneath reads the description, "Parisian Ladies in their Winter Dress for 1800".

Meanwhile in an equally misogynistic comedic excerpt from an English women's monthly magazine, a tailor helps a female client to achieve the latest fashion. "Madame, ’tis done in a moment," he assures her, then instructs her to remove her petticoat, then her pockets, then her corset and finally her sleeves… "‘Tis an easy matter, you see," he explains. "To be dressed in the fashion, you have only to undress."

Still, Dhaka muslin was a hit – with those who could afford it. It was the most expensive fabric of the era, with a retinue of dedicated fans that included the French queen Marie Antoinette, the French empress Joséphine Bonaparte and Jane Austen. But as quickly as this wonder-cloth struck Enlightenment Europe, it vanished.

By the early 20th Century, Dhaka muslin had disappeared from every corner of the globe, with the only surviving examples stashed safely in valuable private collections and museums. The convoluted technique for making it was forgotten, and the only type of cotton that could be used, Gossypium arboreum var. neglecta – locally known as Phuti karpas – abruptly went extinct. How did this happen? And could it be reversed?

A fickle fibre

Dhaka muslin began with plants grown along the banks of the Meghna river, one of three which form the immense Ganges Delta – the largest in the world. Every spring, their maple-like leaves pushed up through the grey, silty soil, and made their journey towards straggly adulthood. Once fully grown, they produced a single daffodil-yellow flower twice a year, which gave way to a snowy floret of cotton fibres.

These were no ordinary fibres. Unlike the long, slender strands produced by its Central American cousin Gossypium hirsutum, which makes up 90% of the world’s cotton today, Phuti karpas produced threads that are stumpy and easily frayed. This might sound like a flaw, but it depends what you’re planning to do with them.

Indeed, the short fibres of the vanished shrub were useless for making cheap cotton cloth using industrial machinery. They were fickle to work with, and they’d snap easily if you tried to twist them into yarn this way. Instead, the local people tamed the rogue threads with a series of ingenious techniques developed over millennia.

What is flannel fabric?

Essentially, flannel fabric simply refers to any cotton, wool, or synthetic fabric that fulfills a few basic criteria:

Softness: Fabric must be incredibly soft to be considered flannel.

Texture: Flannel has either a brushed or unbrushed texture, and both textures are equally iconic.

Material: While many materials can be used to make flannel, not all materials are suitable for this fabric. Silk, for instance, is too fine to be made into flannel, which is supposed to be both soft and insulative.

Flannel in history

It’s believed that the word“flannel” emerged in Wales, but we know for a fact that the term was in common usage in France in the form “flannelle” as early as the 17th century. While flannel was periodically popular among the French and other European peoples throughout the Enlightenment era, interest has waned elsewhere while Welsh flannel use has only increased.

Flannel today

These days, types of flannel are often known by their association with certain Welsh towns or regions. Llanidloes flannel is very different from Newtown flannel, for instance, and Welsh flannel varieties vary significantly from all other European flannel types.

Blanket

Sheet, usually of heavy woolen, or partly woolen, cloth, for use as a shawl, bed covering, or horse covering. The blanketmaking of primitive people is one of the finest remaining examples of early domestic artwork. The blankets of Mysore, India, were famous for their fine, soft texture. The loom of the Native American, though simple in construction, can produce blanket so closely woven as to be waterproof. The Navaho, Zu?i, Hopi, and other Southwestern Native Americans are noted for their distinctive, firmly woven blankets. The Navahos produced beautifully designed blankets characterized by geometrical designs woven with yarns colored with vegetable dyes. During the mid-19th cent. the Navahos began to use yarns imported from Europe, because of their brighter colors. The ceremonial Chilcat blanket of the Tlingit of the Northwest, generally woven with a warp of cedar bark and wool and a weft of goats' hair, was curved and fringed at the lower end. In the 20th cent., the electric blanket, with electric wiring between layers of fabric, gained wide popularity.

How to Properly Use a Bath Mat

Whether you’ve just remodeled your bathroom or you’re looking to spruce up your existing space for the season, accessories like a handsome bath mat, perfectly patterned shower curtains, or the plushest of bath towels will take the room from everyday necessity to serene spa destination. While just as important as the others, the lowly bath mat can get overlooked. But don’t make the mistake of opting for the first white terrycloth style you see. The right bath rug won’t just help you avoid the unpleasant shock of stepping onto bare tile after a shower. It will give your floor—and the whole room—an extra hit of much-needed personality. Here, we’ve gathered bath mats that are soft, absorbent, and beautifully designed. Think geometric prints, cheery stripes, even a cheeky banana-shaped option—plus many more.

First off, everyone had some great suggestions as to why we use bath mats at all. They soak up water, yes, but they also keep us from slipping and smashing our heads through the toilet, and act as a temperature buffer for our toesies between the hot shower and the ice cold floor. Gee, bath mats are pretty swell!

When it came to usage, the general consensus was that this is the wrong way to do it:

Finish shower

Step out onto mat

Grab towel

Then dry off

It leaves the bath mat soggy and wet for whoever showers after you. It also makes you much colder during the drying process.

Most people seemed to agree that this is the right way to do it, though:

Finish shower

Grab towel from inside the shower

Dry off inside the shower

Then step out onto the mat

But you all suggested a few excellent additions, like keeping your towel within arm’s reach of the shower so you don’t have to get cold to grab it, squeegeeing your hair and body to remove excess water before you dry with a towel, keeping the curtain or shower door closed while you dry off to stay warm, drying off from the top down (hair first), and hanging up the mat over the edge of the tub or shower when you’re done so it can dry without looking like a random wet towel on your floor.

What is the Difference Between Fleece and Flannel?

As you already know, the main difference between fleece and flannel is what they are made of. Fleece has synthetic fibers, and flannel features loose cotton threads. But because of their different fibers, these fabrics and finished products have several unique characteristics.

Take a look at this in-depth comparison of key features such as warmth, softness, and sustainability for each type of fabric.

Warmth

Most of the time, fleece has a thicker nap and also provides more warmth than flannel. Now, flannel is quite a cozy and warm fabric in its own right! But in comparison, fleece usually wins the warmth contest.

The exception to this rule is that some high-quality types of flannel contain wool fibers, and these types of flannel provide intense warmth!

What makes fleece so warm? Its many tiny, raised polyester fibers trap heat and hold them in the loose, velvety surface of its pile. If you have ever stuck your hand into your dog’s fur in the middle of winter, you know how all those tiny hairs hold immense warmth against your pet’s skin! Fleece fibers work the same way when you wear them against your skin.

Softness

Fleece is often softer than flannel, but if you have sensitive skin, you may find that its synthetic fibers also have a slightly plasticky feel. Of course, you will find exceptions to this rule, especially in flannel made with silk fibers. This will probably feel much softer than even the softest fleece!

Because both types of material go through a napping process, they both feature an incredibly soft texture on at least one side of the material. Fleece usually has a thicker, deeper pile, while flannel has a faint fuzziness on top of its woven surface.

If you rest your hand on top of the fleece, you feel as if your fingers can sink into the thick surface, at least a little. When you rest your hand on a piece of flannel, you typically feel a cozy fuzziness.

Blankets

Both fleece and flannel make excellent blankets and throws! You can find soft, pretty fleece and flannel blanket in pretty much any color or design you want.

That said, you should probably go with flannel for a baby blanket, as synthetic materials can sometimes cause allergic reactions.

If you plan to sew a blanket, though, you will want to use fleece. Flannel unravels super fast due to its loose weave, making it challenging to cut and sew. Fleece does not unravel when cut because it has a knitted construction with threads looped over each other.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Sunday 25 August 1839

3 ½

10 ¾

fine morning A-‘s neck poorly – off from Stockholm at 5 ½ in little carriage and 2 horses – no forbud – at Rottebro [Rotebro] (single house) at 7 13/.. – terrible boulder stone pavé in Stockholm and terrible and many deeo channels there – good road nice drive – about ¾ of the way very pretty wooded lake – Rottebro [Rotebro] one story red smeared wood house – not good to sleep at – sun now at 7 ½ am it peeped out about 7 – very fine morning – off in 13 minutes – good road – nice drive – nice good country for Sweden – peeps now and then of wood pretty lake (right) Maista [Märsta] single farm house not good to sleep at – A – very cold – very good road – forest with moss green rocks as in Norway but no large old trees – there open country – less encumbered with rock and boulder than in the other parts of Sweden that we have seen – better farming? and better crops? corn in stook and to cut – peas drying on poles reared in a circle and meeting at top like a Lapland hut – hops  very fine morning – Alisk [Alsike] single house – better than the 2 last – perhaps one might sleep here? Hamlets and villages and farms thinly scattered today – wondered at their being so thinly scattered close to the capital – the country here seems better peopled than just out of the gates of Stockholm –

Snow-ploughs lying at the roadside here as everywhere

From Alisk [Alsike] to Upsāla [Uppsala] very pretty drive – excellent road – open country – at 11 40/.. good wood bridge over broadish stream and then fine vist view thro’ forest by and by sun to terminate in the huge brick chateau built on a hill qui domine the 2 steepled cathedral and the city – arrived at 12 20/.. – Hotel de la poste – ordered dinner at 2 – changed our dress – out at 1 40/.. – to the cathedral – large

August Sunday 25 handsome (clean) whitewashed church – a large crucifix over the altar – beneath the pedestal of the crucifix a cross over which hung a serpent – the altar in decoration like a Roman catholic altar  the congregation was assembled at 2 and the organ played and the people sang psalms till 2 20/.. the preacher began the epistle at 2 20/.. and we staid 10 minutes longer – his manner perfectly quiet, but he spoke clearly and impressionably – home at 2 40/.. dinner at 2 ¾ in 35 minutes – then I dozed on the sofa till near 4 – up so early – and driving all the way (A- and I in front – John Winter our new courier and the peasant behind) and having nothing to eat but a little gingerbread with A- between 10 and 11 as we sat in the carriage at Alisk [Alsike] (from 10 27/.. to 11 10/.. one of the horses being shod in the meantime) i.e. little to eat from 4pm. yesterday to 2 ¾ today, made me feel sleepy – out at 4 to the botanic garden – our courier did not even know Linnaeus by name – but he native of Hamburg was courier to prince Oscar 3 years – then set up at Stockholm as loueur de voitures – failed recently and now gets his living as well as he can  - was with Captain Wilbraham of the 7th regiment a fortnight ago for 4 days – went to Dannemora – not time for Falun – off to St. Petersburg – Captain W- asked if ladies descended at Danemora [Dannemora] – no! none but English ladies and several of these had been down! – a civil intelligent garçon gardener shewed us the Serres and orangery and garden ground immediately around them – the building called orangery handsome – but no orange trees to be seen there or near there (a few in the serres the man said) the tubs outside filled with our common and Portugal laurels – ivy in pots outside – will no[t] do well out of doors! yet common sorts of palmiers seemed healthy in the orangery larger and healthier than what we saw in the serres – a thing very common hereabouts and forming a low hedge at the botanic garden is Spiraea calcifolia [salicifolia], flower like sweet dock

no fire in the hot houses

SH:7/ML/TR/13/0008

August Sunday 25 Spruce firs planted at 2 foots, hedgewise – and others cut into cones or looked better as obelisks or a paral of 2 rows of them just below the chateau (in the part of the botanic garden between the museum and chateau) – these spruces looked just as well as if they had been yews and might be got up in ½ the time – the museum Thunbergs’ collection a poor concern – birds etc. ill stuffed and not in the best preservation – the specimens (an infinity of serpents) in spirits locked up in dark cupboards – many duplicates and bad arrangement – the statue of Linnaeus sitting – book in his hand – contemplating his favourite flower (Linnaea borealis)  not a chef-d’oeuvre, but interesting -  

2 or 3 specimens of Gigantic Elk – caught near here 6 or 7 years ago as I understood – but one of John’s (Winter) friends shot one last winter about 1 ½ mile from here – salted it the meat a delicacy – some left – we are to tasted it – this animal in all the forests here – the horns covered with a sort of down – as also the horns of the rein-deer. can buy here the salted tongues and hams of rein deer

Fringa, several [species] of, found in the isle of Gothland sur le bord de la mer – curious sort of ruff round its neck do not recollect having seen this bird anywhere before

Platalea pygmaea caught here pigmy spoonbill said to be the only specimen of the kind to be found in any museum –

August Sunday 25 Tetrao generic name of moor game

common barn-door fowl classed Phasianus gallus.

Heron, genus ardea.

from the musée sauntered to the chateau – the governor resides in one part – prisoners before their trail are confined in another part – many rooms unfurnished – the 3 or 4 towers (at one each corner) look well – but the modern parts – one front with a pediment are terrible – fine commanding situation – the views from it have excused us the trouble of going to the top of the cathedral – old Upsāla [Uppsala] full in view from the chateau – nothing worth seeing says our courier when at mora – merely a few stone with no inscriptions at all – then walked down thro’ the town to the Steamer that plies daily between Stockholm and here in 5 hours – deck passage 2 dollars rigs. – salon double that John thinks – nice vessel enough – deck covered with awning as usual - Upsāla [Uppsala] a nice town – the most livable we have seen – not so low and water girt as the towns in Sweden in general in which one fancies one could not breathe for damp and fog – the castle cathedral university buildings library etc. on high ground – fine fresh air, and agreeable – our Inn comfortable – the first house just below the new library and nicely situated – a drop or 2 of rain between 4 and 5 and afterwards but held off till we came in at 7 ½ - then a shower – till then very fine day – no supper – no wish for anything since dinner excellent veal cutlets (carbonnade) and preserved gooseberries and fried morsels of potato – then soup – then fritters – such is the order here – all good – had just written so far (inked all over accounts and all) now at 10 pm at which hour F60 ½°