#wig fever

[hairtamerstudio]

You've found the perfect wigshop for wig services and online orders. Ship me your wig for maintenance. Get your wig revamped, Color your wig ,order a custom wig, book an install , schedule custom wig services all online

shipping worldwide🚚🌎

http://hairtamersstudiobr.as.me

#hairtamersstudio

#wigs

#wigservices

#GlamourousLocks

#HairMagic

#WigWonderland

#TressTreasure

#HairEnvy

#WigCrush

#StrandStyle

#WigLife

#HairGoddess

#LuxeLocks

#GorgeousTresses

#WigGoals

#HairTransformation

#ChicCurls

#WigCharm

#RadiantStrands

#HairFlawless

#WigFever

#SalonSensation

#HairPerfection

[spocks-kaathyra]

lola's done!!! hopefully I get picked for karaoke at the con so I can sing fever hehe

[starwhit]

I find it funny that I wound up staying at work for at least 30 minutes after I clocked out because I started a conversation with a coworker that ended up being us ranting about how bad the Supernatural finale was.

[knifefightandchill]

I'm finally home and feel half dead even though it was like a 30-40 minute drive. That I didn't even drive myself.

Also discombobulated because there's such a quick change between hectic seattle and farm country. And then from a fancy hotel room to a cozy bedroom

[thistaleisabloodyone]

Watching the Battle of High&Low section from last year's Battle of Tokyo concerts and - where did the Ballistik Boyz go? They weren't in the opening song, the one song that the wiki lists them having in the set list isn't on the goddamn disc, like - did you lose them?

Also, I'd pay good money for an actual recorded version of the Rampage/Generations/Fantastics cover of Higher Ground. It's such a good song and they did it so well. Also, there's a rap section, you could've - you could've slipped a Ballistik Boy in there.

Not that I'm upset that Mandy and Kazuma handled the rap section - please give Mandy a microphone more often, thank you. I'm just - did you lose the Ballistik Boyz? Were they somehow - misplaced?

[verstarppen]

MAX & THE THREE MUSKETEERS MASTERLIST

: ̗̀°•*⁀☆ SUMMARY: mercedes is just a tiny bit worried about your dates with their archnemesis; once mick, lewis and george caught a whiff of your treason, they had to intervene and stop the villain from stealing their princess.

•*⁀☆ PAIRING: max verstappen x fem! mercedes admin! reader

╰≫ NOTE: the reader has no face claim. pictures haven't been used to represent the reader's appearance.

๋࣭ ⭑⁀☆ STATUS: completed

⋆｡‧⁀☆ UPDATES: 22:00 GMT (UTC+0 UK), 09:00 AEDT (UTC+11 AUSTRALIA), 23:00 CET (UTC+1 GERMANY, FRANCE, ITALY), 00:00 EET (UTC +2 GREECE), 07:00 JST (UTC +9 JAPAN), 17:00 EST (UTC -5 AMERICA), 14:00 PST (UTC +8 CANADA), 03:30 IST (UTC +5:30)

･ﾟ:⁀☆ TAGS: fluff, all of this reads like a fever dream, crackiest crack that has ever cracked, toto and christian being forced in-laws, max being max, this is like romeo and juliet if they slayed, blatant mick favoritism, lewis being too old for this shit, sebastian cameo, the wigs were paid actors

‧₊˚⁀☆ A/N: i was bullied to turn this into a series

[ episode i ] - 20/09/2023

[ episode ii ] - 22/09/2023

[ episode iii ] - 25/09/2023

[ episode iv ] - 30/09/2023

[ episode v ] - 12/10/2023

[ the finale ] - 31/10/2023

[ bonus ] - 10/02/2024

[ 1 year anniversary ] - 20/09/2024

[meazalykov]

halloween costume

laura freigang x actress!reader

summary: while going to a party with your fiancee, she starts to tease you about a reoccurring event

the sound of laughter and chatter fills the air as you step out of the car, hand in hand with laura. 

the crisp october air nips at your skin, but the warmth from your fiancée’s presence makes it bearable. you squeeze laura’s hand, flashing her a grin as the two of you approach the house where one of her teammates is hosting the huge halloween party.

"are you ready?" laura asks, her german accent smooth as ever, a playful smile tugging at her lips. 

she's dressed as a pirate, a leather vest hugging her athletic frame, a bandana tied around her dark blonde hair.

you’re dressed as a pirate as well, nearly identical to laura. 

"i think the real question is if you are," you tease, tugging at the collar of her vest. "after all, you’re frankfurt’s football star here. i’m just here for the snacks."

laura chuckles, eyes sparkling as she leans down to press a soft kiss to your temple. "you’re way more than that," she whispers, and you can’t help but blush a little. 

the party is packed, as expected. frankfurt players, local celebrities, and plenty of people from town crowd the house and yard, all dressed up in elaborate costumes. 

the energy is infectious, and you can’t help but feel excited. it’s been a while since you had time to just relax and enjoy yourself. with filming starting again in january, this time with laura is precious.

"look at all these costumes," you say, scanning the room as you walk inside. "everyone really went all out."

laura hums in agreement, her eyes also darting around the room. "there’s a lot of ghost faces too, huh?"

you snicker at her observation. it’s only been eight months since your portrayal of ghost face in the newest scream movie hit theaters, and clearly, the character has made quite an impression.

“maybe they’re trying to pay homage to me,” you joke, though there’s a proud twinkle in your eye. laura just smirks at your playful confidence.

as you weave through the crowd, you suddenly spot someone wearing a ghost face robe, a wig matching your hair color, and sfx makeup that looks eerily familiar to the scene where your character was killed.

"laura, look at that," you nudge her with your elbow, pointing at the person. "they look just like drew in the movie!"

drew was the name of your character.

laura glances over and bursts into laughter, clutching her side. "oh my god, they really do!"

you can’t help but join her, your laughter mixing with hers. it’s surreal and flattering all at once. 

you played ghost face in that movie, but it wasn’t just the mask — it was you underneath, with the same hair, the same body language. and now, here someone is, practically a carbon copy.

"that’s insane," you shake your head, amused. "guess i’m more popular than i thought."

"you’re the actress the world loves, babe," laura says with a wink. 

"germany might adore me, but you’re on a whole other level."

"oh, stop it," you say, lightly swatting at her arm. "you know this crowd loves you just as much, if not more."

you aren’t lying. the attention you receive in germany isn’t as much as laura gets. most of your fans are english or american.

as the night goes on, the two of you bump into some of laura’s teammates, including nicole, who’s wearing a nice indiana fever costume.

"y/n!" nicole calls, waving as she approaches you with a bright smile. 

"i see there’s no shortage of ghost faces here tonight. i think everyone’s obsessed with your character!"

"honestly, it’s insane," you laugh. 

"i’ve seen at least five already. not sure how i feel about it."

nicole grins, her eyes scanning the room. "oh, speaking of, one’s coming your way right now."

you turn your head just in time to see another ghost face making their way toward you, the familiar black robe swaying with each step. 

this one’s holding their phone out in front of them, clearly looking a bit nervous but determined.

"hi y/n, i’m so sorry to interrupt, but i’m a huge fan," they say, their voice muffled under the mask. 

"can i get a picture with you? your portrayal of ghost face was amazing."

a soft smile tugs at your lips. "of course," you reply, always happy to meet fans who appreciate your work. 

"thank you so much for the kind words."

you stand beside them as they pull out their phone and take off their mask, posing for a quick picture. 

laura watches the whole exchange with a playful glint in her eyes. as soon as the fan walks away, she can’t resist.

“oh my god, y/n, i’m such a big fan! can i get, like, ten pictures with you please?” laura dramatically gasps, pretending to fawn over you as she pulls out her film camera, taking on the role of an exaggerated fan.

you burst out laughing, rolling your eyes at her theatrics. "laura, calm down," you giggle, trying to wave her off, but she’s already snapped a few shots of you.

"no, no, seriously, i’m your biggest fan!" she continues, mock gasping and throwing her hands up. 

"i’ll even frame them in the apartment! please, just a few more!"

"okay, okay, that’s enough," you laugh, swatting at her camera. "you’re going to run out of film if you keep this up."

but laura’s grinning, clearly having way too much fun with her impromptu photoshoot. 

"oh come on, y/n, you know i’m your biggest supporter. it’s not every day i get to party with a horror icon."

you roll your eyes affectionately. "i swear, you’re worse than my fans."

“it’s just ‘cause i’m marrying a horror icon,” she teases, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. 

“and don’t pretend you don’t love it.”

you smile, leaning into her touch. "okay, maybe i do love it. just a little."

"thought so," laura smirks, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

"you’re stuck with me and my endless teasing." she whispers against your lips.

"i wouldn’t have it any other way," you admit softly, feeling the warmth of her embrace as the night continues around you. 

masterlist

happy halloween 🎃

[orchid3a]

𝙄𝙉 𝘼 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙇𝘿 𝙊𝙁 𝘽𝙊𝙔𝙎, 𝙃𝙀 𝙄𝙎 𝘼 𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙇𝙀𝙈𝘼𝙉

―୨୧⋆ ˚ or itadori yuuji proving to be the best boyfriend ever

―୨୧⋆ ˚ content: fem!reader, yuuji and sukuna are twins, yn and sukuna have a beef, mentions of vengeance (yn is going to kill sukuna lol), mentions of flu, yuuji being the greenest green flag ever, nobamaki as hachinana, sukuna's foul language, choso being the older brother, beta-reading (?) ―୨୧⋆ ˚ word count: 1.6k words ―୨୧⋆ ˚ author’s note: woah… it has been a year since i posted a fic of mine lol. well, i just want to start this year popping out my love for itadori yuuji <3, hope you all like this fic, please reblog and comment <3 i have to thank t*kt*k for this idea ―୨୧⋆ ˚ tagging: @blueparadis

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

The only sounds in your room were your sneezes and soft imprecations towards whoever cursed you to stay bedridden on the most important weekend of your nerd life.

The anime convention of the month. You spent so many energies to craft your cosplay, and even managed to make one for your boyfriend, Yuji, so you two could make a couple cosplay. However, here you were, bedridden with a fever of 39°C, while your friends were having fun at the convention.

And you knew who he was, and you would make him pay for his ruining it. You could gamble your allowance that someone was a certain cute pink-haired boy’s twin, a certain mean and annoying twin who hated seeing you and his kind twin happy together.

Your thoughts of vengeance were interrupted, once again, by your nth sneeze, as you sighed loudly, before falling in the soft warmth of the bed. Grumbling, you turn on your side, your hand tasting the night table near your bed. Your fingers met something cold, your phone, as you took it. The screen brightness almost blinded you, you closed your eyes for a few seconds, to make them adjust to the brightness. Once again, you opened it and noticed a few texts from your friends, it seemed that they were having fun at the convention.

Nobara sent you a photo of her and Maki, dressed up as Hachi and Nana from NANA. You almost fawned on how pretty and cool they were, you typed a long message declaring how much you adored and loved their cosplays. You coughed a little, as you saw other messages from your other friends who were there. Honestly, you wanted to cry, it wasn’t fair that they managed to enjoy the convention, while you were in your room coughing and sneezing. You spent days, no weeks, to prepare the perfect cosplay, managing to not spend too much money and sew almost the entirety of the costume, create some of the accessories, and the only thing you had to buy was the wig. You were proud of yourself and your work. Frustrated, you put the phone on the night table once again, before rolling on your side, trying to gain sleep, at least you could do that without coughing or sneezing.

“(-me).”

“(-me).”

You grunted as you rolled in your fuzzy sheets, trying to ignore the voice, however your attempt was a failure as someone stripped them off. Before you could curse him, your eyes met with the brown ones of your boyfriend, Yuji. You blinked a few times, surprised, you didn’t expect to see him, especially after going to the convention for who knew how long. Coughing, you tried to stand up, however, Yuji immediately helped you sit straight and even put a pillow behind your back, so you could stay comfortable. He was such a househusband material, you thought as you coughed one last time.

“Thank you, Yuji.” You thanked him as he gave you the water bottle that was on the nightstand. “Why are you here? Aren’t you tired from the convention?”

The pink-haired boy just grinned at your words, as he proudly showed you three bags, as he put them delicately on your lap. They were quite heavy, and you wondered what it was inside, as you opened one of them and you gasped loudly.

“I was right about you liking my surprise, and now Kusigaki has to give me ten bucks.” He chuckled as he grinned, thinking about the bet he just won, then he pointed to one bag before he added. “I bought you some presents, go on, babe, open them.” He reassured you with the biggest smile ever.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his smile, he sure was able to make you feel better even with just his precious smile. How you wanted to kiss him, but you didn’t want to pass him your flu. You cursed your flu once again for taking away from you the possibility to smooch your pretty boyfriend.

Trusting Yuuji’s words, you opened the first bag and a loud gasp, followed by a cough, left your lips, as your eyes widened. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, your head automatically shifted to your boyfriend, as he was grinning at your reaction.

“Then? I bought the right merch~ Yay! And the others didn’t believe me! Ah, serves them right!” The pink-haired boy just smiled as he waited patiently for you to open all your presents.

Your eyes scanned the content of the bag, noticing all the pins, badges, figures, and acrylics of your favourite characters of various animes and video games you mentioned to him. He didn’t forget one character, never in your previous relationship your exes remembered all this information, you were dumbfounded. Your eyes met Yuuji’s brownish ones, and you swore you could read all the excitement he had because of your surprised expression.

“Yuu… How could you remember all my favourite characters? I mean, it’s inhumanly impossible. Are you an alien?” You asked, blinking twice, as you saw his grin becoming ever bigger.

He scratched his neck as he just mumbled. “Well, you showed me so many times their faces that I just remembered them more than my favourite ones. I was sure that you would like them, knowing that you’re stuck to bed because of your flu and not at the convention.”

Your vision started to blur, as tears threatened to run over your cheeks, you couldn’t believe how could you date someone so amazing and loving as Yuuji. He was truly the best boyfriend ever.

The pink-haired man panicked when he saw your tears as he tried to cheer you up the best as he could, while he dried your tears with the sleeve of his hoodie.

It took you a few minutes to calm down, and now you were still in the bed, Yuuji with you, as his arms were wrapped around your waist, cheek pressed on top of your head. You tried to stop him, fearing he would get sick, but Yuuji didn’t listen, saying that he couldn’t get sick. After a few more protests, you gave in. How could you say no to him?

While cuddling, you opened the other bags, gasping and thanking profusely Yuuji for the plushes, gadgets and mangas he bought. And of course, you scolded him for spending so much money just for you! You didn’t like that he focused only on you, he should have enjoyed the convention for himself too!

“But I knew that you wanted to go there more than me, of course I had to buy you those things, I didn’t want to see your sad face because you missed out this opportunity.”

You swore your heart was shot by Cupid’s arrow once again, how could Yuuji be so romantic and caring towards you? He was truly a treasure.

A box peeked up from the last bag, your curiosity was picked, as you grabbed the box to discover that it was a Nendoroid. You didn’t recognize the character, nor did you remember ever talking about such anime. Maybe Yuuji watched it, and he just bought it, maybe you could suggest watching it together, so you could understand why he bought that specific character.

Yuuji’s eyes landed on the box in your hands, a sheepish smile blossomed as his cheeks went warm. An embarrassed chuckle left his lips before he took from your hands, before looking fondly at you, then at the character in the box.

“Yuu, why did you buy this character? Do you like her design? I mean, it’s adorable, she looks like a magical girl. “You asked as you looked closely at the character. Only now, you noticed that she had your same hair colour and the same was for her eyes. It was a curious coincidence; however, it wasn’t strange that you shared physical traits with a character, it could happen sometimes.

Yuuji’s smile softened when he saw you looking at the figure, before ruffling sweetly your hair.

“I don’t know her or the anime she is from… I just bought it because she reminds me of you. I thought that if I bought her, I could always have my lovely (Name) always with me, even if you aren’t with me physically.” He concluded, as his cheeks were reddish.

Your heart was once again hit by a Cupid’s arrow as you stared at Yuuji and his red cheeks, and you swore to yourself that sooner or later you would put a damned ring on his finger and marry him.

Suddenly you pulled him in your arms, now your flu the last of your problems, as he was laying on your chest, while you peppered his face with kisses and sweet praises. Yuuji melt in your embrace as he just let you smoother him with affection and physical touches.

And today too, Yuuji proved how much he loved you.

Bonus

A sneeze followed by a cough were enough to anger the fragile temper of a certain pink-haired twin, especially if the disturbance of his pace was his idiotic twin. Sukuna glared at his sick twin, who was laying on the couch, being babied by their older brother, Choso.

Sukuna wondered how stupid Yuuji could be sometimes, as he asked himself how he could be the twin of such an idiot, he was clearly the better one. (Choso may say otherwise, but Sukuna didn’t care)

Another loud sneeze irked Sukuna, as he turned his head towards his twin.“You fucking brat! If you fuck-”

“Sukuna! Language!” Choso screamed.

And another lovely day at the Itadori household began like that.

[letterful]

Romanticism is the primitive, the untutored, it is youth, life, the exuberant sense of life of the natural man, but it is also pallor, fever, disease, decadence, the maladie de siècle, La Belle Dame Sans Merci, the Dance of Death, indeed Death itself. It is Shelley's dome of many-coloured glass, and it is also his white radiance of eternity. It is the confused teeming fullness and richness of life, Fülle des Lebens, inexhaustible multiplicity, turbulence, violence, conflict, chaos, but also it is peace, oneness with the great `I Am', harmony with the natural order, the music of the spheres, dissolution in the eternal all-containing spirit. It is the strange, the exotic, the grotesque, the mysterious, the supernatural, ruins, moonlight, enchanted castles, hunting horns, elves, giants, griffins, falling water, the old mill on the Floss, darkness and the powers of darkness, phantoms, vampires, nameless terror, the irrational, the unutterable.

Also it is the familiar, the sense of one's unique tradition, joy in the smiling aspect of everyday nature, and the accustomed sights and sounds of contented, simple, rural folk — the sane and happy wisdom of rosy-checked sons of the soil. It is the ancient, the historic, it is Gothic cathedrals, mists of antiquity, ancient roots and the old order with its unanalysable qualities, its profound but inexpressible loyalties, the impalpable, the imponderable.

Also it is the pursuit of novelty, revolutionary change, concern with the fleeting present, desire to live in the moment, rejection of knowledge, past and future, the pastoral idyll of happy innocence, joy in the passing instant, a sense of timelessness. It is nostalgia, it is reverie, it is intoxicating dreams, it is sweet melancholy and bitter melancholy, solitude, the sufferings of exile, the sense of alienation, roaming in remote places, especially the East, and in remote times, especially the Middle Ages.

But also it is happy co-operation in a common creative effort, the sense of forming part of a Church, a class, a party, a tradition, a great and all-containing symmetrical hierarchy, knights and retainers, the ranks of the Church, organic social ties, mystic unity, one faith, one land, one blood, `la terre et les morts', as Barrès said, the great society of the dead and the living and the yet unborn. It is the Toryism of Scott and Southey and Wordsworth, and it is the radicalism of Shelley, Büchner and Stendhal. It is Chateaubriand's aesthetic medievalism, and it is Michelet's loathing of the Middle Ages. It is Carlyle's worship of authority, and Hugo's hatred of authority. It is extreme nature mysticism, and extreme anti-naturalist aestheticism. It is energy, force, will, youth, life, étalage du moi; it is also self-torture, self-annihilation, suicide. It is the primitive, the unsophisticated, the bosom of nature, green fields, cow-bells, murmuring brooks, the infinite blue sky.

No less, however, it is also dandyism, the desire to dress up, red waistcoats, green wigs, blue hair, which the followers of people like Gérard de Nerval wore in Paris at a certain period. It is the lobster which Nerval led about on a string in the streets of Paris. It is wild exhibitionism, eccentricity, it is the battle of Ernani, it is ennui, it is taedium vitae, it is the death of Sardanopolis, whether painted by Delacroix, or written about by Berlioz or Byron. It is the convulsion of great empires, wars, slaughter and the crashing of worlds. It is the romantic hero — the rebel, l'homme fatale, the damned soul, the Corsairs, Manfreds, Giaours, Laras, Cains, all the population of Byron's heroic poems. It is Melmoth, it is Jean Sbogar, all the outcasts and Ishmaels as well as the golden-hearted courtesans and the noble-hearted convicts of nineteenth-century fiction. It is drinking out of the human skull, it is Berlioz who said he wanted to climb Vesuvius in order to commune with a kindred soul. It is Satanic revels, cynical irony, diabolical laughter, black heroes, but also Blake's vision of God and his angels, the great Christian society, the eternal order, and `the starry heavens which can scarce express the infinite and eternal of the Christian soul'.

It is, in short, unity and multiplicity. It is fidelity to the particular, in the paintings of nature for example, and also mysterious tantalising vagueness of outline. It is beauty and ugliness. It is art for art's sake, and art as an instrument of social salvation. It is strength and weakness, individualism and collectivism, purity and corruption, revolution and reaction, peace and war, love of life and love of death.

— from Isaiah Berlin's The Roots of Romanticism.

[minustwofingers]

exoplanet p.1

masterlist

ellie williams x fem! reader (ur kind of a girly girl in this one sorry)

summary: you’re one of the luckiest people in the world as one of the few families that managed to gain entrance to the most exclusive safezone on earth. after living 19 years of your life in a soft and forgiving world, a lab accident sends you across the country to jackson, wyoming, entirely unprepared and unaware of what awaits you in the real world. its a good thing u run into a hot lesbian wink wink nudge nudge

a/n: now listen now hear me out i know this plot sounds kooky asf and im sorry i literally thought this shit up in a covid fever dream. but anyway i basically blacked out at the keyboard and have about 6k words to show for this weekend and no completed hw. i can’t believe im writing. this im so sorry

warnings: ellie is mean asf at first, reader is clueless and cannot do a pushup, you’re also a little bit of a snob and have a fixation on etiquette.  i promise it gets better just bear w me lMAO. she/her pronouns for the reader, v vanilla violence and explicit language. kinda enemies to lovers vibe

im so sorry u guys idk what got into me this is the goofiest au i’ve ever written ok but i just want ellie to get to learn abt the stars and shit after all she’s been thru she deserves it ok enjoy part 2 coming whenever i finish it.

wc: 6k

It wasn’t that you didn’t know that something bad had happened to the rest of the world. You did. Of course you did. You’d have to be a special kind of stupid to not realize that there was maybe something else going on when no one was allowed outside of the walls and anyone who returned told hushed stories of decimated buildings and piles of corpses.

It was just difficult to grasp the idea of the world you knew no longer existing outside the bounds of the city. To anyone before the pandemic, you’re sure that you lead what seemed like a normal life for any privileged kid.

You had two parents, both of whom loved you very much. You went to an elementary school, then a middle school, and then eventually high school and university. You went shopping with your friends. You watched movies and ate shitty junk food and had first kisses and went on ice cream dates. You studied what captivated your interest the most—space—and threw your soul into learning about the physics of the universe.

You laid on your dorm bed, playing with the edges of your pink comforter as you gossiped with your roommate, Irena, about the professor that she thought was hot and the boy who tried to harass you for your number after you’d finished up getting lunch.

You lived a normal life, which is pretty ironic, because the only reason you got to say that was because you were born to not-normal people who had been at the right place at the right time when the world fell apart.

You see, when everyone got sick, some areas got hit harder than others. And your parents, who were vacationing in some swanky exclusive Canadian resort that only the elite knew about, happened to hit the jackpot.

Not only was their vacation spot the one area in North America with a significant metropolitan population that managed to get enough time to adequately prepare, they happened to be traveling with some big-wig execs that knew a guy who knew a guy who was in the process of evacuating and putting the final touches on a safe zone, Terranova, intended for only the highest rungs of North American society.

So, there you were. Some 25 years or so after the world as your ancestors knew it fell to shit—and you were sipping cappuccinos and getting facials without a care in the world. All because of a lucky vacation.

And, for the record, it’s not that you were ungrateful. You knew that you were lucky to be living in the last place on earth with a semblance of normalcy. What you didn’t know, however, was just how lucky you were, and you didn’t find this out until you made that one stupid mistake in Gunther’s lab.

~

“Morning, Y/N!” called out Professor Gunther, a short, squatty man with a receding hairline so impressive that his forehead now ended halfway up his scalp.

“Morning, Professor,” you said, setting your bag down on the desk, winding your long scarf from around your neck and running a hand through your hair to get the tangles out. The wind outside had been especially fierce for February, which was not ideal given that you'd forgotten your hat at home.

“Guess what I’ve got?” Gunther was smiling, his teeth perfect white squares.

You gasped. “No. It’s already here?”

He said nothing; instead, he pushed forward a slightly battered box with dents and various smudges and marks that were telltale indicators for outside shipments.

“No way,” you said, pulling it into your hands. For a moment you debated using your nails to open the seam, but you’d just gotten them done, so you reached for a pair of scissors on the table.

“This is even more than we need,” you told Gunther, reaching in to pull out a spool of wire that shimmered under the lab lights. “Can I just hook it up now? Or is there something else I should do?”

There was, in fact, something that you should’ve done before going with your pliers and wire. Something about your model wasn’t quite right, but you’d figure that out a little too late.

You see, you and old Professor Gunther were attempting to build a prototype that would enable travel at the speed of light. It did sound insane—and you should’ve known that it was a pipe dream—but you were a space nerd with nearly limitless funding and support from one of the most famous surviving professors in the world. It had been Gunther’s pet project, one that you joined as a research assistant in your first year at the university. Once you’d caught wind of it, you couldn’t stay away, and you two quickly began to form a connection only understood by lonely and isolated academics.

“Go for it,” said Gunther, waving his hand dismissively.

Excitedly, you approached the table, your hands almost shaking as you held the wire. It was a fairly new invention, first used in the creation of Terranova and its walls to effectively make it invisible to the outside world. It boasted a variety of properties that made it academically fascinating and functionally useful. Gunther had had a suspicion that it would be useful in stabilizing the process of disseminating atoms to make light speed travel possible, so you’d placed the order for a couple of spools.

“And I think that’s it,” you said, using your pliers to shape the blunt edge that you had just clipped and plugging it into the circuit board. A purple sheen seemed to vibrate around the bundle of wires and boxes.

Gunther leaned over your shoulder, peering at everything through the spectacles perched on his pudgy nose. “Well done, dear. Say, before we turn this thing on and start running some preliminary tests, would you mind grabbing us some tea from the caf? My treat.”

“Of course,” you said, standing up and brushing your hands off. “Lapsang?”

He nodded. “And anything you’d like.”

You pulled my scarf back on, pulling it snugly around your neck and snatching your bag from the table. The walk to the cafeteria was short, but it was cold enough to require suiting up again. You ordered, paid with Gunther’s card, and sat quietly as you watched the snow fall outside.

It was a beautiful morning. The wind had died down, leaving the snow to fall from the gray skies in fat, puffy flakes. The city outside was quiet, with only the gentle hum of the occasional car to break the silence.

“Y/N! A Lapsang Souchong and a Jasmine Green?”

You leapt up and grabbed the two disposable cups, smiling widely at the barista. “Hey, would you mind throwing a bag of coffee in too?”

“Anything specific?” he asked.

“I don’t know anything about coffee,” you admitted. “Anything that isn’t decaf. It’s for my roommate.”

He nodded and rang you up for the coffee, and you were back on your way.

“My dear!” boomed Gunther when you came back, throwing the lab door open and nearly floating off the ground in excitement.

“Lapsang with a spot of honey, as always,” you said, passing the cup into his hands. The bite from the heat slowly faded from your palm—the barista had forgotten to put a sleeve on his cup.

“Lovely,” he said, setting it down next to you. “I’m just going to go ahead and flip the switch…keep your wits about you! Haha.”

“Ha,” you said, though suddenly you were getting more nervous. The longer you looked at the wires, the less sense they made. And was that two uncovered wires touching? ”Hey, wait, actually—”

Click.

A hum filled the room as the power flicked on. The bright white overhead lights flickered once, twice, and then went out. Something that smelled suspiciously like smoke filled the room.

“Fuck!” Gunther fumbled for the switch. You, similarly, lunged forward to see if you could manually disconnect the wires from the input. “It’s short circ—”

As soon as you made contact with the input wire, you heard the sound of a cup tipping over seconds before the splashing of hot tea.

Then everything went black.

~

When you awoke, it was because you were shaking so hard that your teeth were clicking painfully together.

Slowly, you pulled open my eyelids to see a brilliantly blue sky without a cloud in sight, wide and unimpeded by any skyscrapers. This was definitely not Gunther’s lab.

You groaned as feeling began to return to your body, along with a thudding headache and soreness in every joint. Gently, you pressed your weight into your fingers and slowly sat yourself up, making observations as you went.

You were not dead. Your heart was still beating and your nerves still functioned as usual. You had no idea how long you'd been lying on the ground, but it had to have been at least an hour given that the sun was almost in the middle of the sky.

Another observation: you were nowhere near Terranova.

Instead, you were in the clearing of a forest, surrounded by trees with unfamiliar trunk patterns and leaves. A thick bed of white snow coated everything in sight except for you.

You were well and truly fucked. There was nowhere even remotely nearby the city that you knew was in a fully forested area.

Though at least now you held the title of the first person alive to travel at light speed. It was a small comfort, but it was something to cling to.

A shriek sounded behind you, and you spun around, still seated on the ground. The forest line was clear, but you could hear rustling. For a moment you considered that it could be an animal, but it didn’t sound like any woodland creature. It sounded unmistakably human.

“Hello?” you called out.

The shriek came again, accompanied by more crunching—both much closer this time.

“Are you alright?” you asked, hoping your voice would carry to whoever it was. “Are you hurt?”

A mangled man suddenly came into sight as he fell into the clearing from a lopsided sprint, barreling right towards you. One of his knees was bent outwards as he went, so badly it looked broken, but it wasn’t enough to slow him down as he ran towards you.

You screamed, a real and proper one that pierced the frigid air. There was no time for to run as the man closed the gap and rammed into you, his filthy hands gripping your arms through your heavy jacket as his snapping teeth and rancid breath lunged for your neck.

Bang!

A single shot rang out. The man fell limp, slumping on top of you as you frantically snapped into motion and scrambled out from under him.

“Who the fuck are you?”

You whipped back around to see a girl standing at the other side of the clearing, a revolver in her hand and an incredibly cross expression etched into her features. She must’ve been around your age, and she had short auburn hair that barely brushed her shoulders and was being tossed about by the wind. There was a spattering of freckles across her face, muted against the backdrop of her cheeks reddened from exertion.

“Hi,” you said, your voice small and pathetic. You couldn’t stop shaking. “I’m Y/N.”

The girl just stared at you for a few more beats before turning back. “Jesse! Dina! Some help?”

You pulled your knees into your chest as you waited for whatever was to come. Now that the man was off of you, you could see that there was blood trickling from his gaping maw. Something that looked almost like shards had sprouted, like little spring buds, in little areas around his face. Even his normal, unshard-ed skin was a pallor that looked like death. Something wasn’t right here.

“Okay,” said the girl, gruffer this time. “Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are just waltzing in like this, but this isn’t open to the public, alright? You’re trespassing.”

“Sorry,” you said, shrinking further into yourself as you thumbed the edges of your scarf. “I didn’t know.”

“Get the hell out of here,” she said, grabbing your backpack from the ground near her feet and throwing it at you.

Two other people emerged from the trees, another girl and one guy. They all seemed roughly the same age—early 20s, maybe—and were all carrying various weapons ranging from guns to knives.

To say you were on edge would be the understatement of the century.

They spoke in hushed tones as they approached the first girl.

“I don’t understand,” the other girl said, long black locks escaping from her ponytail. “We literally just patrolled this area. There’s no way to get here without either going through the town or going over the pass, and no one’s done that.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t see her then?” The boy looked curiously at you.

“Fucking obviously,” snapped the first girl. “I think we would’ve noticed.” Then, directed at you: “Hey. How’d you even wind up here?”

“Uh….” Your mouth became dry. “Where am I again?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me you don’t even know?”

“Ellie,” warned the other girl. “Maybe she’s been out here for a while. Hypothermia can make you think crazy things.”

“She doesn’t look like she’s been out here for long,” pointed out the first girl, presumably Ellie.

“You’re right outside Jackson,” said the other girl helpfully.

“How close am I to Terranova?”

“The fuck is Terra-whatta?” Ellie frowned at you.

“Where I live,” you said. “I—I’m a student there. I was working on a project and something went wrong and then all of a sudden I woke up here and—what is that thing?” You gestured frantically at the limp body of the man beside you, the shock slowly subsiding as reality set in. “He almost killed me!”

Ellie gaped at you along with her two friends. “What do you mean, what is that thing? Have you never seen a runner before?”

“A runner?” You stared back. “These things are normal enough for you to have a name for them?”

“Oh my god,” said Ellie, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Have you, like, never been outside before?”

“No,” you said, honestly. “I’ve never left the city walls.”

“We have got to take her back with us,” said the other girl.

“Dina.” Ellie scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Dina’s right,��� said the guy, finally chiming in. “We can’t just leave her out here. She doesn’t even know what a runner is. She’s gonna be killed like that.”

Ellie considered, gnawing her lip. “Fine. Consider this your lucky day, Y/N. Get up.”

The first thing you did upon reaching your feet was faint once again.

~

“I told you, Joel, we just found her like this! Lying on the ground, with nothing but her bag.”

A man said something that you couldn’t quite catch.

“Yes. I went through it. No weapons, just…weird things. Like this.”

Your eyes snapped open to see Dina rooting around in your backpack, pulling out your laptop. You were laid horizontally on a table in some warmly lit home.

“Hey!” you said. She turned around, along with a tall, buff man at her side. “Be careful with that. That has all my homework on it.”

“See?” Dina whispered. “Do you think she hit her head or something, Joel?”

Joel frowned, picking up your laptop despite your protests. “I haven’t seen one of these in…I can’t even remember how long. And I’ve never seen one this slim before. Where’d you say you got this, er…”

“Y/N,” Dina supplied.

“From my university,” you said. There was a fire that crackled somewhere behind you, and it sounded comforting. “They provide all students with laptops. That’s how we do most of our schoolwork.”

“Let me guess,” said Joel. “You from the North? A place called Terra Something?”

“That’s a real thing?” Ellie came from around the corner, standing with her arms crossed. She’d changed out of her heavy winter coat and was instead wearing a dark gray hoodie with the strings tied into a bow.

“Never been there myself,” he said. “But when I was doing supply runs back in Boston we always heard whispers of a safezone in Canada. For rich assholes who had some even richer survivalist friends. The Fireflies attempted to break in for years, but they could never find it.”

“So, like a QZ?” asked Ellie, looking genuinely curious.

“What’s a QZ?” you asked. No one acknowledged it.

“Not quite,” said Joel. “No FEDRA. With no military presence, I’m sure it was a hell of a lot cushier living there. Wasn’t it, Y/N?”

“I don’t have anything to compare it to,” you said. “But, yeah. I guess it was nice. It was just normal, I guess. Nothing extraordinary.”

“You’re wearing a cashmere scarf,” Joel pointed out. “That’s not what I’d call normal in the apocalypse.”

You blushed, pulling at the fringes of said black scarf. The fabric was thin and soft, impossibly warm against your bare neck. “It didn’t—it doesn’t feel like the apocalypse in Terranova.”

“And how’d you make it all the way out here?”

“I’m a research assistant for a professor attempting to invent travel at the speed of light,” you said. “We just hooked it up to a different wire today. It short-circuited and when my professor and I rushed to shut it off, he spilled his tea on me and the prototype. Next thing I knew, I woke up here.”

Joel blinked. “What now?”

“I know it sounds crazy,” you said, defensively pulling your knees to your chest. “But I’m telling the truth, honestly. Plus, look at me.” You let go of your scarf and held out your hands, letting the glow of the fire catch the immaculate pearl polish on your fingers. “Do I look like someone who’s traveled from Canada to wherever I am now?”

“She’s got a point,” said Dina, nodding thoughtfully. “It really must be nice where you come from to have hands like that. It doesn’t look like you’ve done a day of work in your life. Reckon you could take us back with you?”

Joel sent her a stern look. “What did you parents do to gain access to a place like that? You the daughter of the president or something?”

“No. They just got lucky,” you explained. “They were summering in Canada and happened to befriend the founders of Terranova right before outbreak day.”

“‘Summering’,” repeated Joel. “It’s been a while since I heard someone use a season as a verb. Somehow it’s not been long enough.”

You cringed.

“I’m not gonna lie, it’s a little disappointing to hear that folks like your parents are still living in the lap of luxury, even after the world ended,” said Joel. “A part of me hoped that karma would get ‘em.”

“I didn’t realize how bad it was out here,” you said defensively. “They didn’t even tell me about…what was that that tried to kill me out there? Walkers?”

“Runners,” Ellie supplied. She watched you quietly from her position leaning up against the couch.

“You ran into one?” asked Joel, another wrinkle appearing in his forehead. “Ellie, have you checked her for bites?”

Ellie’s freckled face paled as she swore. “Fuck. No, I forgot. I should’ve done it in the clearing.”

“Well, better now than never. Listen, I gotta meet up with Tommy. You check ‘er. You got a gun ready, just in case?”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, looking thoroughly scandalized. “What do you mean, just in case?”

“I’ll be outside,” said Dina, following Joel as he left the door.

“How come it’s my job?” Ellie called after them. “No one asked me how I felt about this!”

The door banged shut in reply. She turned back to face you, her lips set into a firm line. “Fine. Take your coat off. Let’s make this quick.”

“I didn’t feel anything bite me,” you said, grabbing your knees tighter to your chest. Ellie was intimidating and scary, and you rather liked how you currently wore an extra layer of protection.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say.” She walked over to you, grabbing your scarf and unwinding it from your neck. “Shit. Is this what Joel called cashmere?”

“Yeah,” you said, watching as she stared at the fabric pooled in her hands. “It’s nothing special, really. Everyone wears them in Terranova.”

Ellie stared at you. “Can you stop saying Terranova? I swear it’s every third word that comes out of your mouth. I honestly couldn’t give a shit about whatever fantasyland you grew up in while the rest of us dealt with the real world.”

You opened your mouth, then thought better of it and closed it. It was discombobulating to hear a stranger swear so often at you.

Ellie knocked your hands from your knees and stared down at you. “Are you actually gonna make me take off everything myself? Do they have hired help to unzip your coats in Terra Novella?”

“Terranova.”

Ellie let out a sharp sigh, then lunged for the zipper near your throat.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you said, yanking yourself away and pulling your zipper down to reveal your standard lab outfit—a satiny button up shirt tucked into slacks. You pulled the rest of your puffer off, letting it drop in a pile next to you.

“So,” you said as Ellie grabbed your arm, gently rolling up the fabric of your blouse and turning your forearm back and forth, “Is this, like, a normal thing? To have deranged people in the woods attack you like that?”

“They’re not people,” she said quietly. Satisfied with your left arm, she moved to the next and let your unbuttoned sleeve fall. “Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Ellie’s fingers encircled your right wrist as she fiddled with your sleeve. They were warm as they brushed across your skin, just barely touching you. “You really don’t know? I thought you at least knew about outbreak day.”

“Of course I know about outbreak day,” you said defensively. “I’m not stupid.”

Ellie arched a brow.

“They told us that it was a virus,” you added. “That it was lethal and incredibly infectious. Is that not what happened?”

“It’s not a virus, it’s a fungus,” corrected Ellie, letting go of your sleeve and stepping back as you redid the buttons at your wrist. “And it doesn’t just kill. It turns you into—into something like what you saw today. You lose your mind. The only thing that matters to you is biting everyone and spreading the infection.”

“Oh.”

“I saw you get tackled. Did your legs get scratched up at all?”

“No,” you responded, feeling thankful that you wouldn’t need to take your pants off. In that moment, literally nothing seemed more embarrassing. Your hands had begun to shake again.

“Didn’t think so.”

“If it had bitten me, would that mean that I…I would get sick too?”

“Nice going, Sherlock,” said Ellie, returning to her spot against the couch. “Really stellar reasoning skills there.”

You pulled your knees back into your chest, the gravity of the situation sinking in. All this time you’d thought it was just a virus—a measly virus that killed. That it could be anything else had never occurred to you.

“Keep shaking and I’m going to start to think that you were bitten.” She smiled thinly at you from across the room.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your teeth bouncing against each other once before you clenched your jaw. “Please cut me some slack. This is just a lot to take in. If you’ll recall, I’ve just been the first person in history to undergo atomic dissolution and reassembly. It’s a wonder I’m still alive.”

“Welcome to the club,” said Ellie, her eyes narrowed. “It’s a wonder any of us are alive.”

Your lips pressed tightly together as you sat, trying your best not to lose it at her. You’d always been brought up to be kind, to be forgiving and sweet and polite. After all, there was never any reason not to be. Terranova’s culture put a heavy emphasis on keeping the peace no matter what. Your parents rarely ever raised their voices. Your professors kindly and respectfully asked their pupils to settle down if they were too noisy, but since you were all brought up with impeccable manners, such instances were few and far between. It just wasn’t a thing to chew strangers out. Such behavior was only reserved for extraordinary situations of the like you’d never experienced. Speaking of manners…

“Thank you,” you said, finally. Yeah, you could be the bigger person.

Ellie’s gaze snapped up to you, her brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“For saving me,” you clarified, avoiding her eyes. They were uncomfortably piercing. “Sorry. I should’ve thanked you earlier. That was rude of me. And I’m also sorry for just barging in here. I promise it wasn’t on purpose. Trust me, I would do anything to be back home right now.”

“I bet you would.” Her eyes dropped briefly to your hands, unblemished and smooth as they clutched your knees. Not even a cuticle was out of place, a result of your weekly manicures and daily lotion habit.

“Sorry,” you said again, feeling heat rise in your cheeks once again. “I probably sound so insufferable and spoiled to you.”  

“Just—” She paused, frowning. “Just stop apologizing. It’s fine. It’s not your fault, or whatever.” The words seemed to pain her.

“What’s a QZ?” you asked. Now that you’d had a moment to draw in a few deep breaths, your hands were steady once again.

“Quarantine Zone,” said Ellie. “Established by what was left of the government for those of us normal people. There are a couple scattered around the country in the big cities.”

“Did you live in one? What’re they like?”

She was about to answer when the door banged open.

“Ellie!” Dina’s voice was breathless. “Joel wants me and you to go out and finish the patrol route together. She alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, hanging your legs off the table and reaching for your puffer.

“God, I fucking love that shirt,” said Dina. “Can I touch it? It looks so soft.”

You had a feeling that you would get on well with her. “Sure.”

“It’s not that soft,” said Ellie from the couch.

“Shut up, Ellie!” Dina walked over to you, grabbing the dangling fabric from your loose sleeves and letting it thread through her fingers. “Sorry about her, Y/N. She’s just like that sometimes.”

“Dina!”

Dina ignored Ellie’s protests, giving you a look full of mirth as she stepped back. “For the record, it was that soft.”

“You couldn’t wear it anywhere,” argued Ellie. “It looks ridiculous. Infected would just snag right onto the sleeves. That’s only if you didn’t get tangled up in a tree from all that loose fabric first.”

“There’s not an abundance of trees or sick fungus people in my research lab,” you said awkwardly. “So that’s not really something that crossed my mind when I got ready this morning.”

“Ha!” Dina’s eyes scrunched. “Ellie, be nice. Maybe she’ll claim us both as her long-lost sisters and get us into wherever she came from, but she’s not gonna if you keep acting like this.”

“It’s okay,” you said, shrugging. “I get it. I can’t even begin to imagine how much different your lives are out here. And, I mean, I probably could if you wanted. I’m pretty sure that all you need is a connection and a negative test for whatever the fungus is called.”

“See?” Dina gestured towards you. “Listen to her. She’s so wholesome.”

“I’d be wholesome too if I led the kind of life where I didn’t know about the infected and got to wear dumb shirts like that all day.”

Dina huffed. “Listen, Y/N, Ellie and I are gonna finish up with patrolling. I’m assuming you want to stay in Jackson until you figure everything out?”

You nodded. “If that’s alright. I don’t mean to impose.”

“We’ll talk to Maria and Tommy once we get back and see about getting you set up somewhere temporarily,” said Dina. “For now, you can just stay at Ellie’s until we finish up. Sound good?”

“Dina!” protested Ellie. “You’re just gonna leave her here unattended without even asking me?”

“What’s she gonna do? Ransack the town? With what weapon, Ellie? Her bare hands? She looks like she’d be blown over if I breathed too hard in her direction.”

You flushed. Sure, you’d never really seen much of a point of bulking up and working out when you were nothing but a student who spent all of her time goofing off with wires and telescopes, but it was humbling to have it pointed out so blatantly.

“She wouldn’t make it a day outside,” continued Dina. “I don’t think she’s stupid enough to try anything. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You blinked. “I mean, yeah. I’ve never spent a day without electricity and hot running water, so I’m not really clambering to leave and live in the woods.”

Ellie sighed sharply. “Fine. Cool. Whatever. Just stay where you are, okay? And don’t even think about touching anything.”

~

By the time that she returned with Joel, you were sitting at the table, 2 chapters deep into the one textbook you’d brought along with you for one of your courses.

“Glad to see the house still standing,” Joel quipped as he worked his heavy coat off his shoulders and pulled his boots off. Ellie trailed behind him, hanging up her coat and pulling off a pair of black gloves. “Ellie was concerned you’d raze the whole town.”

“I’m honored that she thinks me so capable,” you said in response, wincing as you had to dogear your textbook, your bookmarks and sticky notes tucked safely in your dorm desk far away.

Ellie sent you an irritated look before her gaze dropped to the textbook in your lap. It lingered for a moment, just long enough for you to know that she was reading the title Exoplanetary Systems.

“Tommy and Maria have decided to let you stay until you get back on your feet,” said Joel, oblivious to the hostility coming from Ellie. “There’s a cottage down the street that’ll be ready for you to move into soon. For now, you can stay with us. There’s an extra room across the hall from Ellie’s.”

“That’s too kind of you,” you said, your voice smooth and gracious after years of having your manners picked apart by your parents.  

Joel looked mildly uncomfortable. “Uh, yeah. Don’t mention it. You know how to ride a horse?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“Good,” said Joel. “Can you shoot, too?”

You stared. “Uh, shoot what?”

“A gun,” said Ellie slowly. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her mouth contorted into a scowl. She did not seem overjoyed at the prospect of a new housemate.

“No,” you said. Your ears felt like they were on fire. “There’s, uh, a strict ban on guns in Terr–where I grew up. There was no reason to shoot anything.”

Joel whistled. “Well, imagine that. So maybe we won’t put you on patrol just yet. We’ll find something else for you to do. Got any other skills?”

Before you answered, Joel picked up your bag and peered inside of it. “Say, is this a bag of coffee?”

He pulled out the bag of coffee grinds that you’d picked up at the cafe.

“Yeah!” you said. “Before the, uh, accident, my professor sent me to get him tea from the cafeteria. I ended up picking those up since my roommate and I were out. You drink coffee?”

“Not much anymore,” said Joel, picking up the bag and weighing it back and forth. “It’s hard to come by out here. You have to pay an arm and a leg to get just a bit. I haven’t seen a bag like this since before the outbreak.”

“It’s yours,” you said quickly. “I don’t even really like coffee. I just drank it because my roommate would make me a cup.”

Joel shook his head and placed it back in your bag. “No, I couldn’t do that. I’d probably have to trade my whole arsenal plus a horse to get something this big.”

“Please, I insist,” you said. “It’s the least I can do. It’s just going to sit in my bag anyway. You’d appreciate it more.”

“Well…” Joel gave you a considering look. “I s’pose this could cover your work for a few weeks until either we find another job for you or Ellie teaches you to shoot.”

“Joel!” Ellie interjected. “I have my own shit to do.”

“That’s really generous of you,” you said, smiling at Joel. “But you could honestly just take the bag—no need to offer any reimbursement.”

Joel grunted and picked the bag up again, slinging it onto the counter behind him. “Maria’s never gonna believe me until she sees this. Full bag of monsoon malabar…didn’t even think they had that shit anymore…” He continued to mumble to himself as he shuffled around, opening and closing cabinets behind you.

When you looked back up, Ellie was staring again at your book, a line in her brow.

“You can borrow it, if you’d like.” You pushed the book towards her as a poor attempt to call a truce between you two. “It’s not like I actually need to do the reading anymore. I’m already missing lecture.”

You winced at the thought of getting behind in your classes. In the very likely case you weren’t getting back in the next few days, you’d probably need to take a gap semester and return in the fall, delaying your graduation date another 4 months. Your parents were going to kill you. This was going to create an unfillable hole in your resume. “Shooting a gun” and “riding horses” were not acceptable activities to explain away why you took a whole season off.

“No thanks,” said Ellie, pushing it back to you. “Keep it. I don’t want it.”

“It’s about solar systems outside of our locale,” you continued. “There’s a bunch of them. It’s actually really interesting.”

“It doesn’t really sound like it,” she said, but there was no venom behind her voice—just something that sounded like exhaustion.  

“Maybe not.” You sighed, deflated. So much for a white flag. “I guess it must seem pretty ridiculous to you.”

Ellie stood there, her arms still crossed and her frown deep. “Joel,” she said, speaking over your shoulder, “I’m going out. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” said Joel. You could hear him bustling around in what you assumed was a kitchen, filling a kettle with water and lighting the gas top stove.

When you turned back around, Ellie was already out the door, coat slung over her arm as she shut it.

Before the door closed entirely, her eyes snapped up to meet yours like she knew you’d been watching her.

She was gone before you had the chance to lift your hand to wave goodbye.

again apologies for this if you’ve made it this far. please confiscate my laptop. part 2 coming soon (?) if u want also im not an astrophysics student im a thickheaded cs student who barely survived ap physics so im sorry if i’m doing a disservice to the academic field of astronomy idk shit about it 

[mikrokosmos]

The Gothic in Classical Music History (1760s-1920s)

Intro Back in high school I fell in love with two things; classical music, and Edgar Allan Poe. I’ve always loved Halloween, October, spooky things, ghost stories, horror and slasher movies, etc. And I always loved finding classical music that was also spooky, or dark, or evocative of the same eerie experience of a cold and foggy October day. Thinking about these memories made me want to put together a short list of Gothic Classical music.

But what do I mean? There is no true “Gothic music” as in a specific movement in classical history, because the traditional Gothic refers to literature. Not all art movements have corresponding trends in all mediums. Even so I thought it would be fun to say, if there was such a thing as Gothic music, what would that include?

18th Century

John Henry Fuseli - The Nightmare (1781)

Music of the 1760s-1790s, corresponding with the first wave of “Gothic Novels” in the English language. Some names in this era include Horace Walpole (The Castle of Otranto), Ann Radcliffe (The Mysteries of Udolpho, The Italian) and Charles Brockden Brown (Wieland). The closest we have to music of this same era would be in the Sturm und Drang style. Sturm und Drang (Storm and Stress) was used to describe music written in a minor key that was restless, agitated, intense, emotional, and more extreme than the typical expectations for restraint and lightness/clarity, music that aristocrats in powdered wigs and velvet and lace could relax with. Strong changes of emotion and more emphasis on subjectivity, reflected by sudden modulations and pulsing rhythms.

The most famous piece that I associate with Sturm und Drang is Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s “little” g minor Symphony no.25, K.183 (1773). It is famously used in the opening of Miloš Forman’s Amadeus (1984). It is a fun piece, and that opening movement is full of fire, and probably the young Mozart having fun (he wrote it at 17. If you ever want to lower your self esteem, look up what music Mozart wrote at your current age.). Another major work would be Joseph Haydn’s “Farewell” Symphony no.45 (1772), written in the very unusual for the time key of f# minor. And of course, even though he comes later, anything Ludwig van Beethoven published in a minor key has a lot of muscular passion to it, and his early/classical era of the 1790s is no joke. Check out the final movements of his Piano Trio no.3 in c minor and his Piano Sonata no.1 in f minor, or his most famous early sonata, the Pathetique.

But if the Sturm und Drang style and Gothic genre also emphasize the disturbed and the psychological, we can include programmatic works that do the same. Mozart’s opera Don Giovanni (1788) has an incredible moment in the finale. The sociopathic hedonist is confronted by the ghost of the man he murdered in the first act, who possesses a statue and confronts Don Giovanni with his sins. Don Giovanni doesn’t repent, so he is dragged into hell with a chorus of demons. Always a good reminder that Mozart wasn’t the eternal child who wrote pretty melodies.

19th Century

Caspar David Friedrich - The Abbey in the Oakwood (1810)

Music of the early 19th century corresponds better with Gothic fiction because Romanticism in art brought greater interest in the supernatural, in the subjective, in emotional reactions to the universe… major names in fiction include the poetry of Lord Byron (Darkness), Mary Shelley (Frankenstein, The Last Man), and Sir Walter Scott (The Bride of Lammermoor). Greater emphasis is put on the anxiety of the unknown, supernatural fears beyond our control.

Of all Franz Schubert’s songs, Erlkönig (1815) best exemplifies the Gothic (and this is a bold claim because I only know about a fraction of Schubert’s extensive song output). In it, a father and son are riding on horseback. The son is sick with fever. As they ride, the son cries out that he can hear the Elf King calling out to him, some evil spirit or demon that wants to take the son’s life. The father tries to calm him down, but the Elf King gets closer and closer. By the time they reach home, the son has died. Was the Elf King real? Was the son hallucinating from fever? How literal should we take this text? The ambiguity of subjective experiences and how we interpret and understand reality is a major theme in Gothic fiction.

Many famous German operas lean into the supernatural and magical. In this period we get Carl Maria von Weber’s Der Freischütz (1821), considered to be the first Romantic opera. In it, our main character Max who needs to win a shooting contest so he can be allowed to marry his lover, Agathe. He is given a gun that can shoot magic bullets by another forrester Kaspar (who has his own plans). Kaspar tells Max to meet him in the “Wolf’s Glenn” in the woods at midnight for more magic bullets. In the Wolf’s Glenn, Kaspar calls for a spirit, the Black Huntsman Samiel, to help him curse the other characters, offering Max’s soul in exchange. Making deals with demons/the devil was another fascination in Romanticism.

Legends of a diabolical nature were springing around great musicians. At the end of the 1700s, Giuseppe Tartini wrote his most famous composition, the “Devil’s Trill” Violin Sonata in g minor which is full of virtuosic passages. Tartini claimed that the Devil appeared to him in a dream, and that he sold his soul in exchange for the Devil to be his servant. He handed the Devil his violin, and the Devil “…played with such great art and intelligence, as I had never even conceived in my boldest flights of fantasy. I felt enraptured, transported, enchanted: my breath failed me, and I awoke” Source

Similar stories came about with violinist Niccolò Paganini, who astonished the audiences of the early 19th century with his (for the time) otherworldly technique, dazzling them with scales and leaps and scratches the likes of which you can hear across his 24 Caprices for solo violin. A young Franz Liszt was at one of Paganini’s concerts and he was enthralled and inspired to become the “Paganini of the Piano”. He too would dazzle audiences with his percussive intensity, glittering arpeggios, and dreamy modulations to possess women with the spirits of hysteria and other dated misogynistic diseases. Cliche to say but before Bieber Fever, before Beatlemania, there was Lisztomania.

The sense of Faustian bargains comes through in the pieces Liszt wrote after Goethe’s Faust. The Faust Symphony (1857) includes a movement for Mephistopheles, the demon/ the Devil that bargains with Faust. The Mephistopheles movement has no original theme, but takes and corrupts the themes of Faust and his lover Gretchen into a mocking tone. Later on, Liszt was inspired to write a tone poem “The Dance in the Village Inn” or Mephisto Waltz no.1 (c.1862). He also wrote it for piano around the same time. The story has Mephistopheles taking Faust to a wedding in a village and playing the violin so madly, the partygoers are intoxicated by the music and go off dancing in the woods. Emotions taking over and making one act irrationally was another fascination in Gothic fiction.

Liszt would go on in his later years writing a few more Mephisto waltzes, with a lot of forward thinking harmonies and piano writing, unfortunately not as popular. Mephisto waltz no.2 (1881) has moments that make me think of Debussy, and the third (1883) has glittering and ethereal moments. But the best example of Liszt’s interest in the Gothic would be his earlier concert piece Totentanz (1949), or Dance of Death (Danse macabre). In it, the piano and orchestra play out variations on the Medieval chant Dies Irae, always reminding us of the inevitability of death. The variations depict skeletons dancing wildly all while the Mephistopheles at the piano unleashes his seductive tones.

The Dies Irae chant goes across our pop culture, with one famous iteration being a synthesized version of passages from Hector Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique that Wendy Carlos wrote for Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining (1980) after Stephen King’s novel of the same name. And it was Berlioz’s symphony that enchanted audiences in 1830 with new, titanic sounds beyond what orchestra music had been before. In the story of the Symphonie fantastique, an artist has tried to overdose on opium after feeling rejected by unrequited love, but instead he has a vivid drug induced nightmare where he is sentenced to be beheaded via guillotine, which was still a traumatic living memory for the Parisian audience. He then sees himself among ghosts and monsters during a witches’ sabbath, the lovely woman’s beautiful theme is distorted into a grotesque mockery, the Dies Irae comes back among the cackling. It was a new degree of imagination expected from the audience. Later, Berlioz would depict demons in Pandæmonium (the Capital of Hell in Dante’s Inferno) at the end of his Damnation of Faust.

Through the mid to late 19th century we get authors of Gothic literature such as Edgar Allan Poe, Elizabeth Gaskell, Emily and Charlotte Brontë, Nathaniel Hawethorne, and Victor Hugo. We also get two more operas that have Gothic themes. First is Richard Wagner’s The Flying Dutchman (1843). In this opera, a ship on the North Sea collides with the Ghost Ship of the Flying Dutchman who is cursed to sail the seas forever, but is allowed to come ashore once every seven years and if he can find a wife, he will be freed. I’m sure you can guess how this opera ends. The overture is often played in concert for a condensed version of Wagnarian thunder and romance. The next important opera is Giuseppe Verdi’s Macbeth (1847), because Shakespeare was being revived and translated in different languages across Europe and Verdi loved his plays. In the opera, Macbeth comes across a chorus of witches that foretell his success and downfall. He is too ambitious and goaded by Lady Macbeth, plans to take the throne through deception and murder. Lady Macbeth is later haunted with phantom blood on her hands which only she can see. And Macbeth succumbs to his inevitable fate.

We also get two significantly “Gothic” pieces of orchestra music. They are both tone poems, which also reflects the concert goers’ tastes. The one that has always been a quintessential “Halloween classical” piece is Camille Saint-Saens’ Danse Macabre (1875), opening at the stroke of midnight (softly evoked by the harp), a violin shrieks out the tritone (the “Devil’s interval” which the Romantics thought meant was cursed by the superstitious Medievals, really it was an idiom for “hard to use in music”) and introduces ballroom music along with the clacking bones of skeletons dancing in the graveyard (evoked by the xylophone). The skeletons dance through the night until the rooster crows at dawn.

The other great Halloween concert piece is Modest Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain (1867) which depicts another witches sabbath, this time on St. John’s Night, a major holiday in Slavic Eastern Orthodox culture. Walt Disney’s Fantasia (1940) would help bring this poem to life with an animated phantasmagoria of ghouls and skeletal horses and other demons flying around the mountainous demon Chernoberg.

[Here I want to give a quick shoutout to Cesar Franck’s Le Chasseur maudit (The Accursed Huntsman), a tone poem about a Count who doesn’t go to church one Sunday, and instead rides around to whip peasants for his own amusement, so demons drag him to hell. Not nearly as famous a concert piece as the others mentioned in this list but it has colorful orchestration so you should check it out.]

The initial idea for Fantasia was for Disney to repopularize Mickey Mouse by writing him into an animated version of Paul Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. The original poem by Goethe was a classic that Paul Dukas set to music in 1897. In it, we hear the Sorcerer leave his Apprentice to clean the floors of his workshop. The Apprentice uses magic to bring a broom to life so it can do the chores for him. The Broom mindlessly pours buckets of water all over the floor, and the Apprentice isn’t good enough with magic to stop it. He chops it up into pieces with an ax, but they regenerate into several brooms which go back to marching water in. The Sorcerer returns to clean the mess and scolds his Apprentice. This charming tale has a darker and more diabolically fun tone in Dukas orchestra.

20th Century

Harry Clarke - Illustration for "Masque of the Red Death" (1919)

In the same exact year of Dukas’ tone poem, we get Bram Stoker’s Dracula. At this turn of the century other major names include Gaston Luroux (The Phantom of the Opera), Robert Lewis Stevenson (Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde), Henry James (The Turn of the Screw), Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray). At this time, there are a few more pieces that continue trying to evoke Gothic subject matter. One comes from Gustav Mahler’s Symphony no.7 (1905), sometimes dubbed “Song of the Night”. Two of the symphonies five movements are titled “Nachtmusik” (night music), the first is more in line with Gothic anxiety and spookiness than the second which is more like a serenade. But the most Gothic movement is the Scherzo which sits in the middle of the symphony and is like a Viennese ballroom full of dancing corpses and skeletons as waltz music decays with them.

A surprising example (at least, because of how relatively obscure it is) comes from Claude Debussy with parts of an opera based on Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher that he worked on between 1908-1917. Not too much a surprise on the one hand because French translations of Poe’s work became popular and influential. On the other hand Debussy is more known for evocative sound pictures, unique musical colors, and subtlety. Perhaps he was drawn to symbolist and psychosexual interpretations of The House of Usher, the same interests that preoccupied him with his only finished opera Pelleas et Melisande. Roger Orledge reconstructed the opera and tried to stay true to Debussy’s style, so what we do have is passable and as shadowy and vague as his other orchestral masterpieces.

Maybe the hardest work to recommend (but I do recommend regardless, give it a chance) is a Modernist song cycle for chamber ensemble. Arnold Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire (1910) uses freely chromatic atonality to give a demented color of psychosis experienced by Pierrot, personified version of a stock character for old Commedia dell Arte plays, a clown who over time became the “sad clown”. Maybe a precursor to the demon from Stephen King’s It, or the demented clowns and jesters that laugh at the madness of the cosmos across Thomas Ligotti’s short stories.

This was only meant to be a small overview of works that could fit my own view of the Gothic in music. There are more examples I could include, so as a hint toward today, I’ll end with a piece that was written about a century ago, yet sounds as if it could have been written today. Henry Cowell’s The Banshee (1925) is a short piano piece, so if you can, at least listen to this one. Instead of playing with the keys like you’re “supposed to”, Cowell asks the performer to drag their fingers along the wires directly. This creates disturbing reverberations and scratching sounds that tingle the back of your neck, that feel like the otherworldly cry of a Banshee.

Happy Halloween.

[bbqhooligan]

every saiki k fan has to watch the live action. you dont get it. they had 5 dollars, 3 bad wigs and a dream. the 2 running manga gags around kento yamazaki ("the fortuneteller told me i will meet kento yamazaki!" "omg the fortuneteller told me i will date kento yamazaki" "does she not know any other celebrities") and kanna hashimoto (saiki draws teruhashi using his soul capture power and it her) were possibly the only payment those two got. they went all out on the absurdity by refusing do a single special effect seriously. some scenes look like playing dolls with pngs. saikis mom actually does an "its morbin time" title call joke. saikis dad seems to possess canonical, semi purposeful, semi instinctual power to speak calamities into existence with sole purpose to annoy and burden his son. teruhashi is MUCH more evil and MUCH MUCH more lovable its insane how endearing the portrayal is. it all looks so dogshit tho. still no clue all these famous actors worked on this fever dream of a movie. watch live action saikik.

[da-janela-lateral]

Dunno who is the statisticaly funniest Mob Psycho 100 character but Teru is a strong competitor based on his concept alone. He thinks his life is a shounen. He was balded two times and used a giant awkward wig once. He has no problem with waterboarding people. He gets sick with fever if he ever loses to someone. He has a horrible horrifying fashion sense. What.

[partycatty]

do you think johnny could kick a door down with his foot and how hot do you think he’d look doing it

johnny cage > kick the door down

short but sweet about him kicking doors in bc it's sexy

[ masterlist ]

okay but being a set designer for johnny's new crime fighting movie. he'd of course be the sexy no-nonsense cop that's full of one-liners and endless charm for the ladies. if there's one thing he loves doing, it's playing himself in media.

so you make a prop door, one that's hollow and a little lighter than a typical door. the scene calls for him kicking the door down to discover the serial killer caught in the act. as you're laying down the varnish, you hear a knock on the prop department door. he's standing in the doorway, admiring the rows and rows of wigs, weapons, and various doohickeys that gave the film life. he puts his hands on his hips and rests his sunglasses on the top of his head.

"i've been thinking," he starts immediately, stepping into the room and inspecting the nearly finished door. "i do my own stunts, you know? i feel like a fake door would look too... cheesy. let's put a real one in, love, whatdya say?"

you wanted to protest, to say something in return, but he's the star. you couldn't say no to his intoxicating closeness and sweet tone. deep inside, you were annoyed that he waited until now to propose the option, but considering you just made what was called for, you had to listen.

the door gets screwed onto the hinges, a heavy front door-type of material. you stand to the side alongside various replacement props, in case one malfunctioned or failed during filming. unamused, you're frustrated that the hollow door you created was now crumpled and thrown away.

the scene is prepared and brought to life. johnny clutches the fake gun in his hands, lifting one leg up and kicking outward with so much force, you realize the camera shakes. the crew tries their best not to gasp, and the serial killer and victim actor visibly jolt at the sudden sound. you also could have sworn you noticed a strange, glitching effect around his dominant leg, but that must have been the speed of his motion to distort your vision in such an odd way.

you didn't think he had it in him, to be honest. you didn't expect his kick to have the strength to knock a real door down, but here he was proving the point that it'd be far more effective than a shabby fake one. and god, you couldn't lie. it was literally the hottest thing you've ever seen. he barely even strained himself, the damn thing was torn in two within a blink.

it only took a few minutes for the shooting of that scene to end, ringing bells and clicking boards as johnny wiggles the tension of his character out of his arms. he strides toward you and the prop table with an all-knowing grin.

"how was that?" he asked, leaning against the wall. "pretty sexy, yeah?"

you nod and swallow dryly, feeling as if eye contact was an impossible task. he was toying with you, a lowly prop creator. he twists his top half to look back, chuckling at the assistants sweeping away the broken wood.

"the real door was a smart idea," you croak out in a desperate attempt to give a genuine compliment. "looked... realistic."

"realistic? honey, i split the damn thing in half! of course it was realistic, because it was real!" he laughs to himself, patting his chest as his nose scrunches. your stomach flutters.

in an attempt to escape the awkward closeness, you pivot and try to walk away, an attempt that fails miserably when you feel his large hand holding your wrist. your eyes trail up from his hand to his face, and you notice a smug expression that's more pronounced than usual.

"hey..." he purrs, voice dropping. his eyes dart to the side, making sure no other cast or crew was within earshot. "i can think of something else i could split in half." his toothy grin feels like a clothesline shot to the neck.

your face warms up so quickly you might've gotten clocked for having a fever. as you try to come up with something, anything to respond with, the A-List action star already laughing loudly and walking away with that damn swagger, pointing finger guns at the director and waving off audio specialists.

and you stayed where you were, in your tiny corner next to the props.

[lexo-is-pesto]

I'm so excited to finally post this.

My full Murder Drones reference! so hopefully I can keep up consistency

Obviously, this is full of my own head canons so close ups and explanations under the cut (it's a LOT) >;]

To be totally honest my focus was on the main characters, and I think that shows in the designs of the Manor Drones and Cabin Fever Squad. BUT I'll still do my best to explain my process here.

For the Disassemblers I decided to do very different builds for each but the same color pallet.

My idea here was that since each have a different designation letter, that was akin to their model type. That's also why "the company" was able to clone J so easily, they just had her model on file. (also like to imagine there are 26 different forms of the Disassemblers Imao).

I had all the colors remain the same to show their unity and of course the Absolute Solver-ification of the basic Worker Drone color scheme. Essentially, I just took the monochromatic WD colors and put the highlighter yellow over it that Cyn loves so much.

For J I did a more lean and strong build. I wanted her to exude that leader energy. I also made her Core a star shape for similar reasons and then I also noticed that N and V had caution stripes at the top of their legs but as far as I could see J didn't, so I decided to add those to the very top of her legs to finish the garter belt look she's got going on. For her hair, I actually really like the pigtails I just flattened them out a bit because the big cutesy poof they had didn't fit her style in my opinion. I brought it back for her worker form though.

With V I gave her a round yet sharp look. (My favorite added detail is the sharp shoulders) I did make her the shortest of the DD because everyone loves the small but vicious archetype. For her core I made it a sword or spear shape, because she's extra violent. And finally, I made her legs a little more pointed than J's to finish off the sharp look.

Last but CERTAINLY not least, N's design is meant to be soft and plushy but still has a little edge to it. His hair is fluffy but the tufts curl to be sharp, His core is meant to look like a heart but it's upside down so the point is still facing the top (which makes it look more like a club but whatever) I gave him a rounder torso than the other two and his elbow and kneecaps are softer too. His general construction is still menacing, though, so don't get too comfortable with all the fluff. I also spent a LONG time contemplating if I should make his thighs black to look like little biker shorts to contrast with J and V's sock looks but went against it because I love how the hazard stripes stand out against the white.

For N and V's worker forms I basically took out all the sharp edges and rounded them out. J's still a little sharp though not as much.

With the Workers I did the opposite of the DD. They have the EXACT same body types (minus Uzi because she's little) and instead I changed their color schemes to all be unique to their eye lights

Since Worker Drones were made to... well... WORK I think their initial manufacturing would be pretty uniform. A copy and paste if you will. It was only when they were left to their own devices that the WD started to customize themselves. Thus came the wigs and clothes.

I like to think the color started with those infected with the Solver, so Yeva and Nori gained color and then passed that on to their kids. Thats also why Alice has color, but Khan, The Manor Squad, and some other drones in the colony don't. Does not explain Lizzy and Thad though (maybe they have a distant relative that had the solver idk)

It was a lot harder to infer about what a base WD body would look like Maybe I was just looking in the wrong places, but I had to infer with things like the worker helmets, we see every WD except Uzi wear one but they seem more coordinated with their outfits so I decided to just continue my color head-canon that its naturally monochrome and you can customize it if you want to!

I added a light to the feet of the worker drones to match the hand lights. I don't think there's a canon reason for the lights but, on the workers at least. I think they're there to help them do grunt work in the dark! to light their ways in caves or tight spaces so they could do their job better. Now they're just another robot cosmetic

For the Parents, I gave them wrinkles because I thought it was unfair that Khan was the only one who got them. So, Nori gets crow's feet hurray! No but I probably had the most difficult time with these drones. It was hard to separate the canon from fanon since we know so little about them, but I fought off all the demons to keep their designs relatively grounded. Minus Khan's scar. And Alice's more natural horns. and-

I also gave some drones eyelashes. just cause. if I thought it fit, I added it and if it didn't, I didn't add it.

Now you may be wondering "Lexo what's up with all the cracks!?" the idea here is that it's the solver taking over. We see in Cabin Fever and Home that the solver virus fundamentally changes the body of a drone. The crack in the casing is basically this process. Depending on the stage of which your drone is at it changes the intensity. We see Cyn being the main host and essentially patient 0, so she has the most cracks. It starts at the core then spreads until it reshapes you entirely and you become a Disassembly Drone. Unless you stop it in time. Thats why J, V, and N have the pale lines on the bottom of their torso, they're more pretty and cleaner since they achieved the solvers "final form" so to speak. Nori and Yeva on the other hand, have repaired cracks but they're still messy since they were stopped mid-way. Alice, however, did not stop the spread with the solver cure since she was "abandoned" so instead she just cut out her core entirely. Yup. Shes functioning on pure insanity and spite at this point. And then of course with the new hosts, there is light spreading. TL: DR the cracks are a zombie bite.

But that's it for my Murder Drones head canons and designs! If you read all the way to the end, you're a champ and I love you. Have a cookie superstar <3🍪