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ghouljams · 8 months

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I think the shop keeps need to unionize. The Fae boys are just too rambunctious and trouble makers (thinking wayyy way back to when König first got kicked out of Lieblings shop). They need to have a united front against these boys!

Maelstrom I love you so much and have written entirely too much for you. Writing Mal and the Witch's interactions is just so fucking fun.

Witch does some magic for Mal, and they enlist Liebling to form a shop keep union. Also some Price pining at the end.

Mal and their shop belong to @maelstrom007

You sit on Mal’s store counter, a heavy pendulum hanging under your hand. It swings lazily, the ring hardly moving from where it’s settled around your finger. You like coming to Mal’s, it’s cozy. The wards all buzz pleasantly, familiar and comfortable, and all the various knits and bundles give the place a warmth you don’t get anywhere else. Plus the company is good.

“He really shouldn’t be able to just pop in,” You hum, studying the brass sphere as it moves in small circles.

“And yet he continues to,” Mal replies, flipping through their ledger. You hum again, watching the pendulum go from its soft circling to a swaying back and forth as the shop door opens. You snap your wrist up and the chain jerks the sphere into your hand. “Not him,” Mal informs you, you let the pendulum drop back down.

You ignore the pickup conversation happening next to you, focusing on the shop’s wards. You can feel them fitting together like puzzle pieces. They’re snug, and shouldn't have any room for anything to slip through. Your instrument isn’t catching on any holes in the magic either. It would be nice if wild magic wasn’t so personal. You wince, thinking of the unfriendly magic you’d experienced recently. You’d never felt your wards do something like that. Maybe Mal needed something similar. The shop door opens and closes as you press the heel of your hand against your forehead.

“Maybe we need shopkeeper protections,” You mumble without thinking. Mal looks up from notating their list.

“What happened?”

“Customer recently tried to wipe me,” You swallow, shake your head, let your hand drop back to your lap. Mal’s brows are furrowed with concern.

“Are you still-”

“No it’s all out now, but it was-”

Both of you jump as a mass of smoke and shadows collect and pop in the middle of the shop. It feels like a small vacuum being filled all at once. You stare at dark eyes behind a skull mask, smell smoke, that man is too damn big to be appearing like that in here. Mal is clutching their heart, fingers tight on the counter. The pendulum under your open palm swings frantically in all directions.

“You!” You point your free hand at the man. He points at himself questioningly. “How’d you do that?”

“What?” He asks. You look at Mal who is slowly pulling themselves together again.

“Apparate,” They supply helpfully.

“Apparate,” You tell the man.

“Who’s asking?” His voice is gruff, in a way you’re sure someone else might find charming. You, however, find it to be avoiding the question. You fish a small chunk of smoky quartz from your pocket and chuck it at him. He catches it out of the air before it can hit him. Focus stuck.

“C’mere a second,” You wave him over. His eyes narrow behind the mask, flick to your pendulum and then the floor. He points at the chalk circle you’d drawn around the counter.

“You’re a witch.”

“Correct.” He looks at Mal.

“You hired a witch?”

“Hired is a strong word,” Mal glares at him, “She volunteered.”

“They’re making some lace for me.” You explain. The man gives you a “who asked” look. Rude. You jerk your pendulum up into your hand and stuff it into your pocket, pulling a strip of vellum and a pen free. You start transcribing runes and sigils on it, waving the man towards the counter again. After a moment’s hesitation he sighs and walks forward. “So how’s the apparating work? Is it a displacement? Are you filling a void? Slipping through a crack? What is it?”

“Can I pick up my order?” He’s ignoring you. That’s fine, you can feel the wisps of his magic in the circle without him explaining it. It almost reminds you of Price’s magic, the loose threads of it airy and shifting. You try to hone in on the vacuum feeling from earlier, drawing a circle around a few runes. Your magic plucks at his inquisitively, protected enough by the circle to be curious.

Mal marks the pickup down in their book and reaches under the counter for the neatly folded parcel. You glance at the bundle, try to feel the intention behind it.

“You know you can use the front door,” Mal grumbles.

“Where’s the fun in that?” The man unfolds the pink knit fabric and sighs, “Dammit Love.” Despite the tone you can see his fingers rubbing one of the little bunny ears on the onesie fondly. You wonder if he’s got a baby at home. Then you’re stuck wondering who the hell would give this man a baby. You fix your intentions and get back to your work.

You finish your scribbling as he hands Mal payment. You read over your makeshift ward digging through your pockets. You thought you had some tape in here somewhere. No dice. You shrug and reach for a pin off the cushion on the counter, stabbing it through the top of your vellum strip.You’re just as quick to stab it into the shoulder of the masked man next to you.

“What the fu-” He pops out of the shop as the wards kick in. Mal blinks at the previously occupied space.

“Huh,” They settle the stack of gold coins on the counter, “Can I get a few more of those?”

You shake your head, “that's one of a kind sorry, but I think I’ve got how he’s slipping the wards. I’ll tweak them so he can’t pop in anymore.” You hop off the counter and scuff out the chalk circle to start your work.

“Maybe we do need shopkeeper protections.” You glance over your shoulder, watching Mal grab a broom to clean up the rest of the chalk now that it’s inert.

“What, like a union?”

“Or like the mafia,” Mal shrugs. You don’t think either of you would make a very good Don, but it’s a good idea.

“I think we’d need more than just the two of us,” You move one of the hanging knit samples aside to chalk in a few extra sigils on the wall.

“There’s the red bar nearby, and that flower shop,” Mal counts off.

“Plus the craft store,” You tap your chalk against the wall, “Do we just- What? Distribute fliers?”

“Unless you have a better idea.”

“I gotta go to the flower shop later, I’ll ask the owner.” Mal hums, you think it’s their annoyed hum. “You don’t like the seer?”

“Your chalk is trying to burn my floor,” They tell you instead. You nearly snap your neck turning to see what they’re talking about. Sure enough the remains of your circle are sparking angrily at something.

“Shit, what now?” You ask the chalk, hurrying to see what’s catching your magic before it does any permanent harm.

König is coming out of the shop as you make your way towards it. You give him a wide berth, not eager to get caught in his wake. You can feel the snap of magic at his heels, sparking against the shop’s threshold. He hardly pays you any mind, singularly focused on whatever is driving him out. You slip into the shop and take a full breath of the floral air. The shopkeeper is sort of dazedly picking through a bowl of rings.

“Where’s your guard dog going?” You ask, not used to the big guy being outside of the shop. You honestly thought he might be living in the back room.

“I don’t know, we had a fight,” She sighs before shaking her head and giving you a confused look, “Sorry, dog?”

“Oh is he- is he not this place’s guard?” You glance around the shop, it doesn’t have any wards, you assumed the big fae was the ward.

“He’s my boyfriend?” She frowns, scrunching her face up. You think maybe you’re not close enough friends to have asked in the first place.

“Ah, well that makes sense I suppose.” It doesn’t. You don’t know how the fuck she could be dating that thing. You thought she was a seer, does she not- You know what, it’s not your circus.

“Can I help you with something?” There’s a polite level of snark in her tone, enough you could brush off if you weren’t paying attention. Right, you forgot how prickly this seer is.

“I ordered a bundle of poppies,” You don’t really know how to pitch the union thing. You wish you had business cards. You often wish you had business cards.

“Don’t suppose you put a name to that order,” She grumbles, flipping through her ledger.

“Nope,” You pop the ‘p’, “might be under Witch? Or some variation of that.” This is why you like shopping at fae-adjacent businesses, the magical consideration. You don’t get nameless orders at the usual human shops. She taps the order line and goes to pull a bunch of flowers from one of the nearby cases.

“You’ve been here a few times, yeah?” She asks, setting the bouquet on the counter as you fish your wallet out of your overstuffed spell bag.

“You remember me!” She nods.

“Yeah your, uh,” She frowns, squints at you, or around you, “magic, I guess, is sort of… recognizable.” You bite your tongue to keep from asking what that means, what it looks like. You try not to be jealous of seers, but…

You hold out your hand, “I’m- Well, actually Witch works, that’s what the others call me.” You can almost hear the dial-up tone coming from the seer as she stares at your hand.

“I never know what to introduce myself as,” She says, taking your hand, “One of my friends calls me Lieb?” You shrug and release her hand after a quick shake.

“I can call you whatever you want, since we’ll be seeing more of each other you might as well be comfortable.” You tug your credit card free of your wallet, when you look back at her she’s staring at you, confused.

“Why would we be seeing more of each other?” Oh my God, you completely skipped over asking about the union.

“I’m- well me and Mal,” You stop, “Do you know Mal?”

“I pickup König’s orders from them sometimes.”

“Great,” You nod, “Mal and I thought it would be smart to have a little shopkeepers group.”

“Like a book club?” She frowns.

“Or a Union? What’s with you people?” You shake your head, doesn’t matter, “We can standardize rules, put some shop protections down-”

“Enforce bans,” Lieb mumbles, thinking aloud.

“Yeah, if you need to ban someone, sure.” You’ve never had to ban anyone from your place, although that might be changing quickly. You wonder if Mal’s ever had to ban anyone.

“Ok, I’m down.”

“That’s it?” You ask in disbelief. She shrugs.

“Sure,” She reaches to pull a few rings from the bowl on the counter, you’d recognize the scent of iron anywhere, “I could use some protections now that my dog is banned.”

"I think that just about does it for cross shop policies," you tap your pen against your notebook, reading over the various rules you three have been working on all evening. "Anything else we need to cover?"

"What to do with banned patrons," Lieb says. Despite her thorns you've found her proposed rules to be surprisingly reasonable.

"Did you ban someone?" Mal asks, tipping their head curiously. Lieb nods and holds up her phone with a crudely drawn face on it. At least you think it's a face. "König? What did he do?"

"Is that important?"

"It's good gossip," Mal shrugs, "what do you want us to do about your ban? Ban him from our shops too?"

Lieb's eyes sparkle, her smile devious. "Would you?"

You and Mal look at each other. You're not likely to see the big guy in your house, but you know Mal's work when you see it. A ban from Mal might hurt as much or more than a ban from his girlfriend. Plus it could be funny. You both seem to come to that conclusion at the same time.

"If I banned Ghost would you ban Ghost?" Mal leans forward, clearly interested.

"Sure.” Lieb shrugs.

"I wanna ban Gaz," you chime in. Mal gives you a look.

"I like Gaz."

"He tried to wipe me."

"Oh," Mal nods, "yeah, banned."

"Anyone else?" You ask the group. Mal and Lieb both think for a moment.

"Soap?" Lieb asks hesitantly, "I think that's his name: spooky, kinda electric, hangs around artsy folks?"

“Doesn’t come in my shop,” You tell her, since the description doesn’t ring a bell.

“Mine neither,” Mal agrees, “But he can be banned.”

You jot down the names in your notebook with short descriptions. A banned list is smart, easier to keep track of if there’s more than one shop keeping an eye out for them. It’s a tidy list, four fae that should be easily convinced to follow the rules. You can ask Price later about how to enforce the list, there’s probably a trick to it.

“Do we need time limits on the bans? I can’t imagine you’re going to keep your boyfriend banned forever,” You catch Lieb’s attention from where she’s typing rapidly on her phone.

“A month?” She proposes, “At least for the less personal bans. I’ll let you both know when I unban König.”

“I can do a month,” Mal looks at you and you nod. A month is fine. Mal stands from their seat and pats their legs, “Cool, well, if that’s everything, I wanna close up.”

You glance at the walls, feeling the wards wrap around you. You’re glad to feel they’re working properly, especially with the new changes to them. Lieb scrunches her shoulders up to her ears, apparently less happy with the constricting wards. It’s always felt like a too tight hug to you, but it’s your magic. You expect it’s drastically less pleasant for others.

You usher Lieb out to let Mal close up, and offer your friend the promise of a meal soon. After all, it’s been a while since you hosted them.

Price stares at your list with an unreadable expression. He’s leaning against your wall, as is his wont, his elbows propping him up as you sit on the brick beside him. You’re stripping herbs into a little clay bowl, picking the leaves off and waiting for him to finish his thoughts. Your rules already have Mal’s fae stamp of approval, but Price is the one that’s best at bending them. If anything has too glaring a loophole, he’ll find it.

You’d planned on telling him about Gaz’s ban after he read over everything but it had spilled out of you as soon as you saw him. Luckily he’d fully agreed. He seemed almost relieved to hear it, you thought he’d be upset at having one of his friends banned. It’s an unexpected treat to hear Price take your side. You’ve been smiling to yourself about it since you handed him your rules list.

“These apply to me now too?” He asks, breaking the comfortable silence between you. You finish plucking the leaves off a sprig of rosemary and settle the bowl next to you so you can wipe your tired fingers on your apron.

“You’re not a customer,” You tell him. Price’s eyes sparkle with some fond mischief, you’re sure it should make you wary, but you’ve put a lot of thought into this. He isn’t a customer, and has never made himself out to be. If anything you’re trade partners, passing goods back and forth over your fence.

“Smart girl,” His praise never fails to make your stomach flip. He turns your list of rules over, his eyes sliding over the banned names on the back. “What’s this?” You can see the hint of a smile starting to form on his lips.

“Banned customers,” You lean to read over the short list. Price glances at you, or part of you. His gaze flicks to your chest before he clears his throat and pushes off the wall to stand upright. He keeps his eyes fixed on the paper in his hand. “I thought you might be able to help with how to enforce it.”

You look up at him through your lashes, and he’s sure you know how sweet you look asking for his help. He’d grab you off the wall and take you home if he didn’t think you’d put up a hell of a fight. Price understands all too well why the fae steal pretty things like you. If you weren’t so well guarded he might’ve already had you hidden away. It would be easier like that. Another fairytale for the books, another fae without a care in the world taking what it wants when it wants to.

If he didn’t know you it would all be easier. He might’ve been satisfied just stealing you then.

He keeps his eyes on your list. Pretends to think it over so he doesn’t have to look at you. Perfect, maddening, you. Honestly, if it were anyone but you handing him this list he might laugh, hell he still might. His whole team banned from three shops in one stroke, and him desperately glad not to follow the rules. “No touching” how could he ever survive that?

#oc: Witch #oc: Liebling #captain john price #captain price x oc #this is so much OC work #I have more in the works too #Threat and Crybaby fic that I cannot stop writing #Witch absolutely knows what she's doing when she looks at Price like that #menace witch #she's innocent but she isn't stupid #Mal and Witch gossip club adding a new member lol #price x oc #john price x oc #fae!Price #1fae1

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bloodaria · 10 months

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i thought about why the firefly man will created in secondo had his hands clasped together in prayer, and it led me to a new realisation of where exactly i’d seen something like that before -

the angels from coquilles. in coquilles, the angel maker thought he could sense evil in people and would kill and turn those people into angels, purifying them in the process.

the prisoner killed mischa and will delivered justice for that crime through chiyoh, and elevated him in the process, just like what the angel maker did to his victims (will would come to be known as the “lamb of god” who takes away your sins in the red dragon arc). another reason why the angel maker created the angels was so they’d watch over him, because he didn’t want to die in his sleep. though will doesn’t sleep under the firefly man, he spiritually died in mizumono and references to him being dead are brought up more than a few times in the first few episodes of season 3. and consider this scene just before will creates the firefly man -

jack is in the norman chapel along with pazzi. jack tells pazzi, who asks him if he’s a believer, “aren’t we all? belief comes with imagination. we also imagine the possibility that we all live on after death. will graham died. he was dead. i was dead. we didn’t imagine that”. before he says this though, he lights a votive candle. votive candles are used as divine offerings to god, and combined with jack’s words about imagining the possibility of life after death, we can see will creating the firefly man as an answer to jack’s prayer, since with this tableau, he literally created life after death.

how did will create life after death? when they first meet, chiyoh tells will the prisoner is only allowed the sound of water like what the unborn hear. the firefly is the last stage of metamorphosis from the pupal form, so the prisoner goes from the unborn stage to the mature adult stage because of will turning him into the firefly. we also see the prisoner eating snails, which as hannibal tells bedelia in contorno, is the fuel which the firefly larvae use to transform themselves into delicate creatures of such beauty.

something chiyoh also says is that will is not allowed to look at the prisoner or speak to him, saying he’s cast aside the social graces afforded to human beings by killing mischa. since chiyoh says that the prisoner is unborn directly after saying this, there is a direct link between the prisoner not being looked at, or “seen”, and his being unborn.

“belief comes with imagination”, and what is will known for? his imagination, his empathy. it’s will’s empathy which allows for the possibility of life after death. will grants his gift of being seen to the prisoner through his empathy and gives him a rebirth, just like he did with randall tier who wanted to be seen and who had his becoming when he was turned into a beast and displayed in the museum. the prisoner lived his whole life in a dark, damp prison, so with his wings and with the lights reflecting off of him and around him, will sets him free and gives him what he couldn’t have in life in death.

not only is the prisoner reborn, will is as well. will has just created the imago, the flying insect which is the final stage of transformation which he and hannibal discussed in mizumono. and think of the journey will undergoes to get to this point, it occurs entirely through water -

“he’s only allowed the sound of water. it’s what the unborn hear”.

we also see hannibal’s kitchen being flooded with blood in primavera, and a close up of will’s guts in aperitivo, which is compared to a womb in the script, while hannibal embraces him and then stabs him.

will sinks in this bloody water in primavera, and walks on its surface to get to lecter castle in secondo (walking backwards because he’s going backwards in time like when he lets the pendulum swing and recreates a crime scene - he’s recreating mischa’s crime scene, going back to when the teacup first shattered so that he can understand hannibal).

what about jack and his belief that he’s dead though? it’s in aperitivo that jack lets go of bella and puts her to sleep permanently. bella had told him before that he’s not going to go into the ground with her, so we can see this as jack beginning to accept that he belongs to the land of the living. in contorno, he tells hannibal that after he’s gone, he’ll feel alive, before pushing him out a window. coming back to the angel maker, the angel maker had cancer and would make angels to watch over him so that he doesn’t die of cancer in his sleep. bella directly compares hannibal to a cancer within jack, saying he can cut out what’s killing him. was jack as successful as the angel maker or bella in cutting out his cancer (read: not successful not all)? the evidence suggests so, since in the red dragon arc he’s again back to his old ways and back to his old dynamic with will and hannibal, making use of them to solve cases in an effort to save lives.

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal meta #will graham #jack crawford #i am so not confident about that last part of the post but w/e #long post

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ay0nha · 5 months

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DEATH IS A MIRROR | N.K. (Prologue)

SUMMARY: The sick joke of it all was even now, year after brutal year, Nanami would still lay his life in your hands. It wasn’t a question of trust, responsibility, or necessity—it was desire. Against his better judgment, he only wanted his soul to be cradled in your palm, stripped bare of everything else. As your touch alone was far more valuable than life itself.

PAIRING: Nanami Kento x f!reader (anti hero/opposite of Nanami)

WORD COUNT: 1K

WARNINGS: (ex- friends to) enemies to lovers, ANGST, jjk canon-typical things, Satoru playing match-maker/meddling, mentions of blood, mentions of dying, etc.

A/N: Hello! After this poll, Nanami won so here is a brief prologue of a series I'm starting in remembrance of our sweet boy. Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged! Enjoy.

COMMENTS ENCOURAGED. PLEASE.

TAGS: @chimamire-ga @togenabi @eliuriastwo @betterthanuyou @satorulicious @moon-taffy @thefutureastronaut @planetahmane @musababy @kannra21

part I

Nanami sat idly, eyes glazing over a newspaper he’d spent far too long on. The words blurred just as the images faded, as his focus was on the clock’s pendulum. It swayed in tandem with each throb of his headache.

It was tempting to crush it, for him to channel anger through his limbs just to strike an unlucky antique. Yet, his posture remained alert despite the desire to cave into frustration. His body begged to succumb to the restlessness he smothered wholly. And so, the soft chime marked every second of his dwindling patience.

You were late.

You taunted him even in your absence. Nanami pictured you purposefully rising late to crawl under his skin. There, you’d settle until your arrival with weak excuses of traffic and forgetfulness.

No—Nanami knew better than to think you’d come with airy politeness. He doubted, regardless of the years gone by, you’d ever lose your brashness, especially when it fed off his involvement.

It’s the idle hours that often leave a man to ruin, he thought.

“It’s just theatrics…” Satoru hummed, plucking at his blindfold. It was his third time repeating a false-bottomed promise. He knew he wouldn’t have luck with a fourth. “She’ll be here…”

Nanami’s chest filled with vexation. The entire thing was a weak ploy to make amends for something that had been severely cemented—severed. However, he was willing to fall pretty to prove a point.

“She is unnecessary.” The newspaper was still a prop of the conversation, Nanami’s expression attempting indifference.

He flipped the page harshly, taking a quiet breath at the paper cut that had yet to allow the blood to surface. He promised himself to wait until it pooled to leave. The excuse was ready on the tip of his tongue if need be.

“She’s essential.” Satoru corrected, sitting up from the lounged position he favored. “With her help, we get in, no questions asked—” He smirked, “—just this once, I think mixing business and pleasure—

“Enough. We are not in school anymore.” Nanami adjusted his glasses. His brow furrowed with irritation, and his stern features set as he gathered himself. “You have wasted energy centering this around her for something that should be handled alone.”

The mission was straightforward, requiring quiet moving and first-grade sorcery. It had the potential to fester into something sinister. To Nanami, that was a driving reason he’d distanced himself. Nothing was ever painless.

“They’re already watching me, you know this…” Satoru’s tone was always teasing. Nanami's memory was etched with the deep-chest laugh you’d reward Satoru with. You connected better with him because of it.

Nanami used to reflect on how it was the only time his so-called stoicism became a disadvantage. The more he dwelled on it, the more he realized you played him.

“Excuses won’t work, Gojo.” Nanami's words were blunt. The grand “they” were always watching, and repercussions seemed to slip past his friend. Nanami never had such luck. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Satoru chewed at his lips playfully as if it were a schoolyard secret. “It wouldn’t matter. You’re the only one I trust—

“And her?” Nanami adjusted his glasses. The weather section anticipated rain and storms. The irony made his stomach churn. “You must be desperate.”

Satoru knew his power of persuasion was unnecessary, as dangling you was enough. “Don’t deny her talent—

“Talent?” Nanami scoffed, finger beginning to burn. “A petty thief cannot be classified as such.”

You were talented beyond his insult. Yet, in Nanami’s eyes, you refused to apply yourself. Everything was a game you mocked and pushed the boundaries with your skill. You favored loopholes even if they caused torment to everyone involved.

Saying you were different didn’t hold as much value as one would think. The world you occupied was shared with things whose inherent nature was to be in constant flux. Everything was different—special. You were more of an insignificant blip in an overwhelmed radar. Your abilities didn’t matter when there was always something better or more pressing than you.

Now, you demanded attention.

Nanami detested your methods of disregarding logic in hopes of entertainment. If you weren’t given a show, you became the spectacle of excess. Your eyes would sparkle as you never transferred wrath through your blows. Each hit made your smile just a bit wider to reveal that you thrived off fear.

“You’ve always been so hard on her…” Satoru groaned. It was more like a whine, a childish way to push his friend’s buttons. “Don’t you miss—

“Don’t.”

The statement was heavy, poking what felt like a freshly healed scar of the past.

Nanami’s chest felt heavy, burdened by a truth that he was determined to smother. His newspaper creased with tension and fell onto the glass table, his exit clear through his upset.

“C’mon, Nanami—” Satoru thought fast on his feet, a trait he’d always used to his advantage. He heard your footsteps approach and, within seconds, decided against a warning: a make-shift reprimand to bear witness to Nanami’s exterior crumble.

You pushed through the door as if you were there all along. Your pupils blew large at the burden before you. The spotted tie you were met with flooded your vision, causing your lips to turn down.

The frown on your face was misrepresented as it genuinely held a mix of remorse and interest. It made sense that Satoru led you here under pretenses. You were no fool when it came to his sporadic behavior, but he had bested you just this once.

“Kento.” You didn’t let your surprise show. Instead, you leveled with his obvious conviction.

Nanami still towered over you, but your confidence overwhelmed him. You sucked the life out of the air as if you were Death herself. On your breath out, you filled the room with envy. And your voice, mature with age, still dripped along the walls like honey. The warmth you carried was a suffocating trap. Nanami would be a fool to fall for it again.

But he knew you had already won the game.

#q #nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x f!reader #nanami x fem!reader #nanami kento x f!reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #jjk nanami #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento angst #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami #kento x reader #jujutsu nanami #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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chroniclesofnadia111 · 10 months

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sometimes 🖤

i’m a sweet little love maker

#me #blacktumblr #blackgirlmagic #black tumblr #melanin #caribbean #fka twigs #pendulum #alt girls #black alt girl #black beauty #black girl magic #caribbean women #tattoos #inked beauty #tattooed beauty #black models #blackwork tattoos #SoundCloud

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dross-the-fish · 8 months

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I’d like to see an angst drabble of Adam having a nightmare about Victor and how he deals with it afterwards.

Forgot I finished this earlier. Here is your angst!

....

All was ice around him. Sharp and cold it whipped at his skin, clung to his hair and laced his tattered rags with white. Through the veil of furious winter Adam could see his creator’s eyes, empty and staring out of his frigid corpse. The hunt had ended, abruptly and without satisfaction. Victor’s face was almost peaceful, the benevolence of Walton’s friendship had spared him the pain of desolation in his final moments. Thus had his maker escaped him. Fled at last to a place where he would be forever out of reach.

There had been no exchange of last words, no further condemnations and no forgiveness for either of them. Simply an end. It rang so hollow…

What had he expected? That the chase could last forever? That Victor might someday grow weary of running and give in? Adam didn’t know. In his sleep he tried to close the empty eyes that could not look at him, could no longer perceive him as man or monster, yet still gazed at him in judgement. Victor's mouth was frozen shut, sealed by ice. Still lips and silent tongue that could no longer condemn nor absolve. What had he even wanted from his creator at the end?

100 years later as he bolted upright in is bed Adam still didn’t know.

Nightmares of Victor were not uncommon. Though the man himself was gone his specter continued to follow Adam in those shadowed, brief hours of trouble sleep. Even in his dreams Victor would not speak to him. In fits of madness Adam would beg the shade to curse him, call him a demon. When Victor’s ghost remained infuriatingly silent Adam would scream and rage. Empty threats to follow him to the grave and torment him in hell for abandoning their chase before his creation was ready to let go.

Other times Adam would beg forgiveness. Crawling on hands and knees, teeth gnashing like a dog, he would wail until his voice gave out. Still Victor’s spirit gave him no peace. Only judged him silently with cold, frozen, eyes.

Upon waking from such nightmares Adam would vent his fury upon his hated reflection in the glaciers. Striking the walls of ice with his fist until they cracked and his blood dripped on to the snow.

Red on white.

So too did Adam Frankenstein now smash his fist against his bathroom mirror until there was nothing left of it but shards and splinters. Droplets of blood flecked the sink and swirled down the drain.

Red on white…

The light bulb above him swung like a pendulum on its chain.

Glistening shards danced blinking sparks of light across the walls like baleful eyes.

“Don’t look at me… Don’t look at me….”

#Adam Frankenstein #Frankenstein's monster

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srbachchan · 1 year

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DAY 5443

Jalsa, Mumbai Jan 9, 2023 Mon 11: 40 PM

🪔♥️ , January 10 .. birthday wishes and affection to Ef Sapnaa Sandilyaa .. Ef Hoda from Egypt 🇪🇬 .. Ef Manuela from Italy 🇮🇹 .. Ef Palkan Nagori Dave .. and Ef Rajesh Lodha from Chennai ..

greetings galore for this special day and more ... from your Ef .. ❤️❤️❤️🌿

It irks and relishes in the absence of any formed routine of the day - the body and mind - in substance and matter and ethics and rules and regulations and in the professionalism of time, and in the presence of the much awaited work force .. so mentioned because the need for the atmosphere to be in the changed form, shall be ever present but never desired ..

So be it ..

When routine and work are run in marathonic platforms for miles , it be the stone that passes by recounting the loss of multiple factors .. availability, ability, scheduled discharge .. and much more .. much more ..

For years now the governance has been in large spoken to about the mode or code of conduct of them that be in use of the roadways and highways, now being produced and executed with forward looking administration, that has given rise to hundreds of miles of .. yes .. ROADS ..

Roads .. the form of communicative effective delivery systems .. of travel, or connections and several other habitual needs ..

But the accidental Indian does never give, any substance of importance to what needs to be important and deliverable ..

So the GOI, conducts a Telethon - a pre recorded Telethon to perhaps in a sense , educate all that is in need of the various regulations prevalent and not so prevalent in order that some order is restored in the not so restored conditioned environ ..

So .. the time is set for the chatter and directions to be given with the dignitaries of the moment to speak to educate all them that need to be made aware of the ‘country of the system, in the haemoglobin of the atmosphere’ ..

The belief of the many be that the other is at fault .. that the makers are at fault .. never is there the admit on the self .. the self could be the reason for the fault .. think then of what the other on the road is thinking or doing or about to be doing .. and find ye the solution to several of the needed solutions ..

it is a commitment made and must be followed diligently .. for the life that gets unfortunately cut short , short cuts the lives of the may that lose loved ones and the near and dear .. the earner of the house , the balanced element of the weighing scale that pendulums about , in the space of time and need , to follow or be followed ..

Be in the learning first before the teaching can occur ..

Consider the acknowledgement needed to be given in the encourage to them that made way that adjusted that paused and stopped for the needy and the elder ..

So many issues for the vehicle driver .. so many finding fault in the one that owns the vehicle .. but often they get the raw end of the stick .. and either perish or attain nirvana at a suitable unexpected time ..

It is the law of nature .. guided and abetted by the supposedly best creation - Mankind, Womankind ..

They bring the maturity of the need .. they push for execution and comply .. and they bring the benefits to their agreed need and custom ..

.. may this campaign be in relevance soonest .. and may it bring the much declared assistance for the road matters on the streets and bridges ..

Love

Amitabh Bachchan

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patricia-taxxon · 1 year

Note

Re: AI art, I like your argument so far but I think it fails to consider generative forms of art, and algorithmic art in general. And additionally art that was not made with intention, like things created in nature or by accident. Like cool designs and shapes made by a pendulum is still art imo, but I don't think there is soul behind it.

I disagree, the bounds of the algorithm as decided by a human creator can be the art. In this way, I consider the AI art engines themselves to be pieces of art & their outputs are datapoints in service of it.

Perhaps a belabored analogy, but if you hit a button to randomly configure any given picrew avatar maker, the result will be unintended, perhaps surprising & delightful, but the bounds of the algorithm were still put in place by the picrew's artist & the "art object" is theirs. AI art output is definitely art, but it's not made out of artistic intent by the user & can never be analogous to even the most hands-off artmaking process. The user experience is to vaguely articulate something you think is cool & blindly stumble through a black box you have no knowledge of, that's what I mean when I say AI art has no soul and its users are hacks.

#patricia taxxon ask #cilantromixture

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haveyouseenthishorrormovie · 1 month

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Stats from Movies 701-800

Top 10 Movies - Highest Number of Votes

Ringu (1998) had the most votes with 1,327 votes. Chillerama (2011) had the least votes with 360 votes.

The 10 Most Watched Films by Percentage

Beetlejuice (1988) was the most watched film with 80.9% of voters out of 780 saying they had seen it. Demonic Christmas Tree (2022) had the least "Yes" votes with 0.4% of voters out of 491.

The 10 Least Watched Films by Percentage

The Nun 2 (2023) was the least watched film with 70.6% of voters out of 633 saying they hadn’t seen it. Demonic Christmas Tree (2022) had the least "No" votes with 9.2% of voters out of 491.

The 10 Most Known Films by Percentage

Beetlejuice (1988) was the best known film, only 0.4% of voters out of 780 saying they’d never heard of it.

The 10 Least Known Films by Percentage

Demonic Christmas Tree (2022) was the least known film, 90,4% of voters out of 491 saying they’d never heard of it.

The movies part of the statistic count and their polls below the cut.

The Uninvited (1944) The Crazies (1973) Witchfinder General (1968) The Conspiracy (2012) When a Stranger Calls (1979) The Evictors (1979) The Birds (1963) Ice Spiders (2007) Rubber (2010) Eyes of Laura Mars (1978)

Daughters of Darkness (1971) Akira (1988) The End of Evangelion (1997) The Woman in Black (2012) Milfs vs. Zombies (2015) Knife + Heart (2018) It's a Wonderful Knife (2023) Attachment (2022) Gothic (1986) Jakob's Wife (2021)

Stranger by the Lake (2013) The Fog (2005) The Greasy Strangler (2016) Angel Heart (1987) Tumbbad (2018) The Snow Woman (1968) Sugar Hill (1974) Saloum (2021) WNUF Halloween Special (2013)

Sound of Violence (2021) Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979) The Haunting of Molly Hartley (2008) Death Laid an Egg (1968) Baskin (2015) The Last Will and Testament of Rosalind Leigh (2012) The Fearless Vampire Killers (1967) The Haunting of Julia (1977) The House That Dripped Blood (1971) Megan Is Missing (2011)

Ringu (1998) Three... Extremes (2004) Trench 11 (2017) Out There Halloween Mega Tape (2022) Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer (1986) The Driller Killer (1979) Berberian Sound Studio (2012) One Cut of the Dead (2017) Demonic Christmas Tree (2022) Butcher, Baker, Nightmare Maker (1981)

Urban Legends: Bloody Mary (2005) Motel Hell (1980) Shallow Ground (2004) Annabelle: Creation (2017) Annabelle Comes Home (2019) The Conjuring 2 (2016) The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It (2021) Morgan (2016) Sputnik (2020) Devil's Pass (2013)

Dracula's Daughter (1936) Dagon (2001) We Are Still Here (2015) We Are What We Are (2013) Somos lo que hay (2010) The Serpent and the Rainbow (1988) Midori (1992) The Believers (1987) Troll 2 (1990) Chillerama (2011)

The Town That Dreaded Sundown (1976) The Mortuary Collection (2019) The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane (1976) The Pit and the Pendulum (1991) House (1985) Flatliners (1990) The Town That Dreaded Sundown (2014) Crimson Peak (2015) Frailty (2001) Hell Night (1981)

Eyes of Fire (1983) Sister Death (2023) Tonight She Comes (2016) Bad Dreams (1988) Dead Snow (2009) Dead Snow 2: Red vs. Dead (2014) Veronica (2017) The Nun II (2023) Brotherhood of the Wolf (2001) Maniac (1980)

Man's Best Friend (1993) M.O.M. Mothers of Monsters (2020) The Reptile (1966) She Creature (2001) Beetlejuice (1988) The Incredible Melting Man (1977) Kandisha (2020) So Vam (2021) Bit (2019) Death Proof (2007)

#recap

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scotianostra · 4 months

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On 11th January 1841 the inventor Alexander Bain was awarded a patent for the electric clock.

I covered Bain on the anniversary of his passing at the beginning of the month so will just run through this invention of his.

Between 1841 and 1852 Scottish-born Bain took out a series of patents for electrically-driven pendulum clocks. Whilst the German C.A. Steinhiel developed similar systems independently in the late 1830s..

Bain took some models of an electric clock to London and presented them to Charles Wheatstone, professor of physics at King's College. Alas for Bain he could not have gone to a worse man. Wheatstone gave Bain £5 with a promise of more and advised him to postpone any further work and not to tell anyone. In November of that year Wheatstone exhibited a model of an electric clock, supposedly of his own design, to the Royal Society of London.

However, the previous month in October 1840, Alexander Bain and his partner at that time, chronometer maker John Barwise had applied for the first electric clock patent in England. Bain's patent was granted in 1841 and Wheatstone was forced to withdraw his model. This started a life-long quarrel between Bain and Wheatstone.

#Scotland #scottish #history #inventor #clockmaker

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pwlanier · 1 year

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Dowsing Set.

An interesting and rare dowsing or radiesthesia set with two books relevant to the practicalities of the subject. Patent label for maker Robert Droster, Bruxelles. C1900. The set includes rods, pendulums and various metals etc. dowsing is a method of divination used to locate water, minerals, ores, oil, gravesites and lost objuectsthrough subtle energy fields.

Stothert and Trice

#divination #paranormal #water witching

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enchantresscraftshop · 1 month

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Handcrafted Pendulums made with crystals and Stainless steel ✨

Inspired by Deities with the intention to invoke.

The Crystals used to make these Pendulums are associated with the deity listed.

https://linktr.ee/enchantresscraftshop

#pendulummaker #pendulumjewlery #enchantresscraftshop #invokejewery #onestoppendulumshop #pendulum bracelet #pendulum shop #pendulum maker #deitypendulum #nyx pendulum #nyx crystals #goddess nyx #nyx deity

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writingforfishes · 15 days

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Otto and Atticus Chronicles 4: The Hiatus

It is after 3am on my side of the world and when I came home from work I wrote out over 4,000 words, I guess.

This fiction is actually SFW.

I know in my own experience of having a kink I will go through phases where I simply don't feel ar0used by it. At some points in my life I think that I've lost it completely. But it always comes back. Atticus goes through the same states, I've decided. They call that state their 'hiatus'. So that gave me permission to write a story that was not about being turned on by hiccups but, instead, just about Otto getting hiccups and Atticus being a Good Partner.

This story has some hurt/comfort elements in it. Mainly Otto is stressed out and hyperfocused on his clock repair as there is a seasonal rush and Atticus makes sure our boy is taken care of and loved. In turn, Atticus also practices self-care and self awareness.

Oh, and there is also loads of hiccups. Just from a different perspective than normal.

Also, is it normal to develop secondary characters as much as I do for kink fiction? Cause this world is growing...

***

Otto usually didn’t have movements set up like this in the house on test stands. He used the shed in the back yard to test movements, especially the ones with pendulums. He didn’t like to do it on the work bench in the house because there was a possibility that it would get bumped. But it was spring and usually around this time of the year Otto experienced a rush in business. People were cleaning out their homes or their parents/grandparents homes and finding old clocks that hadn’t seen services for decades and suddenly wanted them working again to have a piece of their loved one with them.

He had a few watches in drawers as well that were waiting for service. And then there were the regular customers that still filled the quota for maintenance. All in all, this week had been hectic. He’d been to four home visits for tall clocks and grandfather clocks already and it was only Wednesday.

Fortunately he didn’t have any home visits scheduled for today and he wasn’t planning to, not with how enthusiastic his diaphragm had decided to be. Luckily, thanks to Atticus’ insights on the pattern when his recurring hiccup days happened, he had known this was a possibility.

He ate later than usual last night and it was a spicier meal than average. When Atticus had mentioned the possibility of hiccups being the consequence of his indulgence Otto took note and popped a couple of antacids before bed.

While it hadn’t prevented the hiccups he had to admit that they weren’t as strong or violent as his past experiences with day-long recurring hiccups had been. He hadn’t even seen reason to try and cure them. And, at times, he completely forgot they were there until he found himself taking a breath, gulping, or startling himself with a HUCK when his mouth had been open.

They had started coming a little more rapidly though, and he wasn’t sure exactly why. But he was so focused on at least finishing one more movement before taking a break that he ignored the body jolts and worked through the clusters of hiccups that piled one on top of the other to get just one more thing done.

He leaned forward into the current clock movement, a Seth Thomas regulator, and pulled down the eye loupe attached to his glasses to get a better look at the escapement. He paused as a cluster of three hiccups hit him causing him to bounce and his hand to unsteady. He sighed and swallowed down some slower hiccups as he inspected the built up oil around the pivots and in the teeth of the gears.

A lot of clock makers were enthusiastic about taking apart movements and cleaning them. But if the oil buildup wasn’t too bad and it was working pretty well once it was in beat Otto would rather leave the movement as it was and clean what he saw.

He was deciding whether or not this particular movement was going to need an ultrasonic bath when he heard the stairs creak behind him, the light thumping of bare feet tapping through the living room and into the kitchen, and the sound of a mug hitting softly on the counter.

Normally Otto would have excitedly met with his partner to show his hiccups and spend an intimate moment together but 1) he still had so much work to catch up on that he was nervous to lose any time that he could use getting through his list of repairs and 2) Atticus was in what they liked to call a ‘haitus’ from experiencing arousal from hiccups.

When Atty first experienced the phenomenon Otto had been worried his partner going to find his hiccups obtrusive and annoying. But they reassured them that even when their arousal level was low Otto and his hiccups were adorable and charming. Otto had been relieved, but they’d never had the hiccups while Atticus wasn’t aroused by them. In a way they were thankful timelines lined up to be a benefit to his catching up with work. But he was also curious as to whether Atticus really would find his hiccups as endearing as they claimed they would.

“Huh-huck’m!” Otto murmured as he looked closer at the escapement gear. He might have to bend some of those teeth back into place. Another cluster of hiccups hit him, “huck!hmp!mk!hmk!uck!--Jeez!”

“Have you had them all morning?” a voice said from behind him.

Otto jumped, eyes wide, and looked around at the sudden appearance of his partner. They had gotten their hair cut recently, sides shaved and curls tousled on top and touching their forehead. They stood behind him calmly with a mug that said ‘Life’s a bitch and then you die,’ in simple font on the front. Atticus continued to amaze Otto with their ability to seemingly transport right behind him in an instance.

“Holy shhic!t, you sc-scared the huck’m crap out of me!” Otto exclaimed, clutching his chest. He muffled a few more hiccups that piled in with the excitement.

“But not the...hiccups, apparently,” Atticus replied and took a bemused sip from their mug.

It was always a little endearing how much trouble Atticus sometimes had saying the word ‘hiccup’ out loud. They avoided it most of the time.

Otto took his glasses off finally as looking at Atticus through them was becoming disorienting. He chuckled a little at the comment, feeling a harder than expected HUCK shake his body and pull in his sternum.

“N-no,” Otto confirmed, rubbing the sensation from his chest as his hiccups continued to settle more on contracting his belly after that big one. Atticus just smiled, no hint of arousal in their expression. “I-hulp! I got them hup!-after breakf-mp!-breakfast. Are you huck!-uh. Hmp!mp! Are you up ear-early?”

“I am not,” Atticus confirmed. “I, in fact, slept in. Late night working on a submission. Did you have breakfast around seven?”

Otto knitted his brows, confused at the question.

“Y-hup!-yeah,” he answered with a nod.

“Sweet boy, it’s one in the afternoon,” Atticus informed him.

“What?” he exclaimed, and looked at his watch. “Oh m-man. Huck! I was suHUP!-supposed to call hmp! Millie back hup!-to s-set mk!-up an appointment for herp!-her grandmother hmp!-clock.”

“Aw, I love Millie!” Atticus said. They came over and put a hand on his shoulders. “I’m sure she’ll understand you getting wrapped up in...wow, how many clocks are you working on?”

“I don’t mk!-don’t wanna talk about it. HUCK!” Otto said, and sighed again. Another volley of hiccups hit him. “Huck!hulp!Uck!Hilp!” and he silently jerked through two more. He felt Atticus’ warm hand rubbing his shoulder as the fit passed.

“Why don’t I fix you a sandwich? You can step away from...whatever this is,” Atticus suggested waving a hand at two stands that were holding up clock movements. One that was set up to be tested and one that he was currently working on.

Atticus had felt his neck tense as more hiccups rippled through his slouched form. They’d winced at the fastness of his hiccups. Usually they would feel turned on but now they just felt sympathy. They felt a higgup bounce in his shoulders before he sighed and rubbed his eyes roughly.

“I jhuck!-just have so hmp!-much to do! I’m behimp!-behind hip!-and I n-need to hmp!-call Millie. Damn! Wh-where did the hup!-time go?” he lamented, throwing a worried look up at Atticus.

“I don’t know, but it’s definitely not in those,” Atticus said, gesturing to the clock guts that were motionless in front of Otto.

Otto’s face turned from worried to stricken as he followed Atticus’ gaze. And what was meant to be a light hearted joke made a knot form that his hiccups seemed to gather around, an ache forming in his chest.

“Oh, hey…” Atticus cajoled realizing their mistake, “No no. C’mere.”

Atty put down their mug behind them, purposely avoiding the work bench where all of those delicate looking tools and parts were exposed. They wrapped their arm around his shoulders and took their other hand and pressed his head into their chest softly, stroking his hair. It was rare that they got to cradle Otto like this as their two height differences made it near impossible if he wasn’t sitting. So they actually really enjoyed moments when they could cradle him and offer him comfort, his body jolting with hiccups that seemed to get stronger as he had brought up the backlog of work he had on his plate right now.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Atty said softly into Otto’s hair.

Otto sighed at the sensation of warm breath on his scalp. The sigh ended in a hard HUCK-UK! He grunted. Now that he had started paying attention to them he realized how long he’d had the hiccups and how annoying they had become. It probably didn’t help that he also suddenly realized how hungry he was. His hiccups were definitely jolting a stomach that felt empty and ached a little from that, too.

“I’m just huck-uk!-just a little huck!-overwhelmed,” he admitted. His hiccups were a little muffled as he buried his face in the soft material of Atticus’ Henley. Their scent was comforting and he took a breath of it, snorting a couple more hiccups, small burps escaping in retort.

“You need a break,” Atticus said. “Would you allow me to call Millie and tell her you’re a little backlogged and not feeling well? And let me fix you a sandwich? I think it would help the...hiccups, too. And if that doesn’t work we can cure them the way we always do.”

Otto whimpered a little. He hated stepping away from a project, especially when he had so many more to work on. He rubbed his stomach, though, feeling his hiccups respond by quickening again. He felt Atticus’ hand raking through his hair and over his scalp, grounding him.

“Hey,” Atticus said, voice still soft. Their hand suggested to Otto that he should look up at them and so he obliged. Tilting his head up forced his body to jerk a little more at each hiccup so he had to adjust his eyes at each spasm to keep on Atticus’. “It’s not your fault that you’re behind. You’re one person and you have a sudden surge of clients that need your services. You’re doing the best you can. And right now, you need to take care of yourself because otherwise you’re going to work yourself to the ground and I’ll have to youtube how-to videos on clock repair and, I dunno, I might get maimed by a main spring or something.”

“Is HUCK!-is this huck’m!-supposed to make mhuck!-me feel huck!huck!-feel better?” Otto responded wryly. He didn’t miss the roll of Atticus’ eyes as he suppressed a belch that tucked his chin in immediately followed by a volley of silent hiccups. He grunted, disgruntled. He felt a hand on his head again.

“You get what I’m saying though,” they said.

He nodded, “Y-yeah mk!mk!”

“Want me to call Millie?” they asked.

He shook his head at that.

“I’ll d-do it,” he said.

“With the hiccups…?” Atticus asked incredulously. They’d recently found out a few months ago how uncomfortable having hiccups in public made Otto.

Otto shrugged in response. It was a non-committal response but it indicated that he just thought it would be easier, somehow. Atticus didn’t argue. They weren’t a fan of talking on the phone, anyway.

“Sandwich?” was Atticus’ final question as Otto gathered up his phone and searched his contacts for Millie’s number. He nodded at this.

“P-please. Huck!-uh. Thanks,” he added sheepishly.

Atticus smiled and put a kiss on his forehead as Otto held the phone up and listened to the other line ring.

He prepared to try and suppressed his hiccups as much as possible. He certainly didn’t want to come off as rude. As weird as it was, some people did see the involuntary spasms as impolite and Millie was in her late 70’s, nearing 80. He had no idea what the older generation would think about a professional calling with the hiccups. If he were in a clearer frame of mind he might have decided to let Atticus call or wait until he could cure them effectively, but it seemed more direct and rational to deal with it himself as soon as possible.

“Hey M-Millie,” Otto said when a voice on the other end came on. Otto had been servicing Millie’s clocks for close to a decade now. She had some amazing timepieces and a couple of gorgeous chiming clocks. He had been honored to form a relationship with her first because of the opportunity to work on some absolutely amazing clocks but then because Millie was a delightful person.

“I’m d-mm!-doing okay. I apo-uh!-apologize for—for calling later—later than we’d agree-eed on. Hmp!” Otto tried not to hold his breath as that sped up his hiccups but he had been able to silence most of them with effort.

“N-no,” Otto said, and chuckled a little releasing an uncaught squeak. “The conhmp!-mm-the connection’s fine. I—I have a pretty—pretty stubborn hmpk!-uh stubborn case of the-the hiccups right now. Pl-please excuse me mk!”

Otto smiled and stood, wincing as he realized how incredibly stiff he was from sitting at the bench. His butt, of all things, was numb and sore at the same time. He came into the threshold of the kitchen to lean against the wall and watch Atticus toast bread to make a PB&J. They were slicing up apples, too.

Millie was coo-ing as if she was his mother. ‘Poor baby’ and such. Otto already felt more relaxed listening to her voice soothing him with compassion. He let his hiccups out a little as he unclenched his muscles. He still kept his mouth closed so they didn’t explode into Millie’s ear but they made more regular mk sounds as he waiting for her to finish.

Atticus sent Otto a smile as they mouthed ‘I love you’. Otto mouthed it back but with an uck punctuating it.

“Mm. N-no. Holding muck!-my breath makes mk!-makes them worse mk!-usually. Huck! Sorr-mk!-sorry!” Otto said, covering his mouth.

Otto nodded to her response.

“Yeah-mk!-they’re pretty bad. Mmk! L-listen. I wanted mk!-wanted to see if mk!-if we could t-talk tomorrow. Hmpk! I have a mk!-pretty long back-mk!-backlog of p-mp!-projects right now. I haven’t mk!-had—had time to look at mk!-my schedule, yet. C-could I call mk!-you tomorrow?” Otto asked.

Otto nodded as she acquiesced very quickly, insistently almost. Otto knew Millie couldn’t see him nod but he did it out of instinct and as Atticus seemed to relax at the gesture it was good that he had done it to confirm at least that stress was dealt with and off of his plate for today.

“Yeah th-they’re doing okay. Mmk!-uh. Fixing me so-something to eat mk!-right now. I s-sorta forgot hmpk!-to do that. Mmk’m!” Otto responded and rubbed his chest. “P-probably why mk!-these things have mk!-lasted this long.” Otto paused, listening, and smiled, “Yeah m-my mom mk!-got them when she was hung-hungry, too!”

Atticus raised their eyebrows. Otto grinned and shrugged.

“Okay,” he said into the phone. “O—okay, yeah. Mk! Yeah, tom-tomorrow. Mk! I’ll tell them. B-bye.”

Atticus sat the plate with the PB&J down on the kitchen table and the apple slices next to it. The writer was forbidden to use the stove anymore since the great scorch a few years back. Since then they’d gotten pretty damn good at salads and sandwiches, when needed. Otto did most of the cooking.

“M-Millie sends huck-uh!-her well-wishes. Says she hmpk!-read your latest huck!-latest book of poems. She hupk!-likes the one about p-MK!-pomegranates,” Otto said fondly.

“Ha! That’s great! It’s so cool that she reads my stuff. By the way, that one was totally about my junk,” Atticus said indelicately.

“HA! Huck’m! H’muck! Mk!-uh! Ugh, don’t m-make me laugh. HUCK!-uh…” Otto guffawed. He suppressed another belch followed by three more hiccups that seemed to play with the air that his stomach had created from becoming acidic with hunger. Otto made a gross face and swallowed.

“Sit! Food! Eat!” Atticus insisted.

Otto finally pushed off of the wall and sat down.

“PB and h’muck!-J?” Otto asked.

“Fast calories. C’mon. Those hiccups are just hungry. Take your time. I’ll get you some water,” they said and ruffled Otto’s curls as they passed him to get a glass.

“What-hmp!-What are you gonna eat?” he said around a bite. He chewed while he hiccuped and swallowed between them. It was a delicate process but he could already tell that his stomach was starting to satiate by the second bite. Though he might need at least one more of these sandwiches, at least. He tried to go slow.

“Gonna make some eggs,” Atticus said. At Otto’s look, they said, “I can make eggs…”

He grinned around the food, hiccuped, and swallowed. He made no further comment except to watch them carefully during the process.

Two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with half an apple eaten by Otto and two scrambled eggs with toast eaten by Atticus later the clock maker felt a lot better. His hiccups weren’t quite gone, but they had lessened significantly. His anxiety had ebbed significantly, too. But he still couldn’t help but think about the looming deadlines and clock movements that sat unfinished.

“Okay. Back to it. Hmph!” Otto said. “I really appreciate you taking hmp!-taking care of me, Atty. These clocks are n-not gonna put themselves in hmph!-in beat!”

“Hey, suggestion?” Atticus said, putting both of their dishes in the dishwasher after rinsing them. The shorter of the couple watched the taller with some level of intensity. They took in his disheveled curls (though they were the one who did some of that), shadowed eyes, and posture that held tenseness like it was a vital commodity.

Otto’s hiccups had weakened and Atticus was thankful for that. Even within the break from their attraction they found hiccups to be interesting and endearing. But Otto’s hiccups today didn’t just originate from poorly made dinner decisions. Otto’s hiccups seemed to mirror the anxiety state he was in.

Or perhaps that was Atticus projecting a little. This writing submission had been a point of obsession for them. If Otto went back in the deep end of his clock repair then Atticus would end up back treading water with their short story submission. But when Otto looked back, lips opening over his slight overbite then closing quickly with another quick inhale of a hiccup Atticus felt a little guilty and selfish with their suggestion.

“Yeah?” Otto prompted when Atticus seemed reticent.

“Um. How about you don’t?” they finally said.

“Do-hmph!-don’t…?” Otto said, shaking his head.

“Uh. Listen,” Atticus winced as they rubbed the back of their head wondering if they should’ve even brought it up. But they huffed in determination to get it out. “Do you know what time I went to bed?”

“Hmm-hmk!” Otto said and took a moment to think. “No, actually. I know you were werk!-working on your short story. I fi-figured you probably fell asleep hmph!-in the loft.”

“Well yeah, I did...when I heard you get up,” they said sheepishly.

Otto’s eyes widened a little.

“Wait, what?” he replied. “So that was herp!-that was around five this morning?”

“This deadline is so close, Otto. But the harder I push myself the harder it is to finish. And I just,” they sighed in a huff, “I think I need a break! And...with all of these commitments and business you have right now I think...I mean...I’d like you to take a break with me. Just today.”

“Atticus, I…”

“I know, I know. You have a lot of people counting on you and you don’t like to disappoint people or promise something you can’t fulfill. But is what you’re going to be able to get accomplished today with as tired as you are really worth still feeling that tired tomorrow and pushing yourself through until you’re entirely burned out? Or is just taking this afternoon and tonight to take a break and feeling a lot better and having a lot more energy tomorrow better in the long run? I’m kind of being selfish here because I really just need to get out of my head on this thing and seeing you today running yourself ragged and forgetting to eat or drink water...I just...think it wouldn’t be a completely terrible idea for us both to just...take a moment,” Atticus said, sputtering nervously and biting their lip.

Atticus had never had the kind of drive that Otto had when it came to anything in life. Otto was self driven in a way that Atticus could never figure our how to embody. Truth be told, they often felt incredibly inadequate in Otto’s focused motivation and follow-through. But the person they saw crouched over the clock movement, shoulders up to his ears in tightness, working diligently but with tremors more than from hiccups seemed to embody the exhaustion Atticus had experienced the night before and morning of the current day.

“So…” Otto started, allowing his body to jolt with a silent hiccup, “take a break?”

“Yes…”

“Like a...m-mental health day?” Otto asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” Atticus agreed.

Otto sighed and seemed conflicted for a moment. He looked back to his workbench. He gave the two movements sitting on it a glare. His mind’s eye thought about the three watches that needed service and the two other movements in the shed that still needed some attention. None of them were big jobs, but they were still time consuming. But he also considered what Atticus had said.

Warily he stepped tentatively over to his work bench, fingers twitching as he reached and flicked off the lights. He felt his diaphragm twitch again and rubbed his hand over his belly to ease the anxiety.

“Okay. What do we do now? Hmpk!” Otto asked and put a hand over his chest.

Atticus breathed out a sigh of relief. Even though they felt completely comfortable with Otto and had been with him for years they’d always felt like challenging his work ethic and dedication was something mildly off limits. But seeing him in such a state earlier had made their compassion override that inadequacy and they’re glad they offered the out.

“I was thinking we could...lay on the couch and fall asleep to some crappy tv?” they offered tentatively.

Over the years Atticus and Otto’s media consumption had melded. Atticus easily loved the classical music and niche composers Otto featured on his record player, but Atticus sometimes just needed noise. They rarely watched TV, but having it on made them feel more focused in some ways. It didn’t seem to make sense, but it worked for them. And slowly Otto had become accustomed to their habits in addition to his.

After a moment of consideration Otto gave a nod, “I could hup!-do that. Though...my diaphragm is hmph!-kinda disruptive right now…”

“I don’t mind but if it’s bothering you we can do the cure,” Atticus said.

“I think I’m al-almost done. I don’t want to do the hup!-the cure too much. Maybe it’ll get, I dunno, hmk!-like get ineffective if I do it too much?” he said uncertainly.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works but if you don’t want a mouthful of salt I totally understand,” Atty said with a smile.

“I really, r-really don’t!” Otto replied emphatically. Atticus laughed.

And so, Otto and Atticus ended up on the couch in the living room. Atticus pressed their back into Otto’s chest and belly. Otto nuzzled his bearded face into the place where Atticus’ neck met their shoulder from behind. For the first five minutes they lazily watched a documentary that neither of them would remember.

Atticus would jolt with every hiccup Otto made. His hiccups muffled in their neck. They could feel his intakes of breath on their neck’s skin and hear the slight whistle as air sucked into his nose as a small thump hit the small of their back from Otto’s stomach.

Otto’s hiccups faded and stopped after that. Simultaneously they both breathed in deeply and let it out. They chuckled together when they realized what they’d done.

Within an hour Otto had relocated to his back and Atticus had tucked themselves to Otto’s side, their head on his chest. A drawling British narrator spoke about some documentary worthy topic as the couple let the worries of their day fade like Otto’s hiccups finally had. When they awoke that evening to have dinner they would find they were able to breathe again, too.

#hic fic #hiccups #hiccups kink #hiccup kink #otto and atticus #kink fic #hurt/comfort kink fic #emotional h/c #minors dni

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