#a rather old piece back from July; I think

[magics-neptunes-things]

Christmas Shopping

Hi everyone!

Time is passing and I hope your December is going well for you:)

A little Christmas shopping with Lucy today, and if what happens in this fiction is taken from my own life, it’s obviously only coincidence ^^'

Happy reading!

You wouldn’t know why, every year, you find yourself at the end of December running in stores to find Christmas presents. Yet, you think about it as early as July, thinking about what you can offer to your parents, your in-laws and Lucy. When you asked her what she would like, she shrugged her shoulders and said that what she likes at Christmas is to spend time with her family. And you, of course. Then she hugged you to break your bones. You love it, but it doesn’t help you choose something.

Lucy accompanies you today in the mall, you decided to join forces to find gifts. You made a list of people who are missing gifts and you had the same protein breakfast you had before your football matches. Lucy laughed and pretended that you were doing too much, but you know what a pain you’re going to get into. People are completely crazy in stores around Christmas.

It’s been almost an hour since you were in the store and you only found two of the ten gifts on your list. And you’ve already been stepped on three times. Next to you, Lucy pushes the shopping cart looking around her, studying each of the articles on which her eyes rest.

"Okay, now we need a doll set for your niece"

You turn back to Lucy, to face… emptiness. You frown and turn on yourself, looking for your girlfriend’s figure. But she’s nowhere to be found.

"Lucy?"

Frowning, you retrace your steps to go through the rays you have already crossed, wondering if you forgot to take something. But Lucy is still nowhere to be found. You end up finding her at a dried meat tasting stand, almost ten minutes later.

"Baby!" she happily cheers when she sees you "Here, you have to taste this!"

She hands you a toothpick on which a piece of meat is pricked, which you examine before carrying to your mouth.

"How delicious is that?"

Before you have time to answer, Lucy puts two packages in your cart, to the delight of the saleswoman you look at with scepticism.

"Hum" you just mumble when she says goodbye with a little too much enthusiasm to Lucy. "Are you being charmed for some food now?"

"Of course not" laughs Lucy before putting a loving kiss on your cheek.

The gesture makes you smile and forget the touch of jealousy you just felt. This may not be worth the Iberian ham you have in Barcelona, but it's true that it's rather good. You take out the empty list and take control of the shopping cart.

"Set of dolls"

********

"I’m hungry" sighs Lucy a little later

You smile and roll your eyes when you hear her. You have to admit that you are getting hungry too, but you are unfortunately far from having finished your shopping.

"We’ll go to the cafeteria after we finish this" you answer, shaking the list in front of her eyes.

"But baby" Lucy whines, in the same tone as her four-year-old nephew.

You shake your head and drag her with you into the good place to find a gift for her sister-in-law. A skincare set may not be the most original idea in the world, but your imagination is far from overflowing right now. Arriving at your destination, you hesitate a long time about the different possibilities, before turning to Lucy.

"What do you think? Coconut or… Luce?"

But Lucy disappeared again and you let your head go against the shopping cart with a sound that seems to worry a Grandma next to you.

Taking a random kit off the shelf, you go back looking for your girlfriend, grumbling in a low voice. It takes you again long minutes to find her, lost in the contemplation of Christmas decorations.

"Lucia" you sigh at her.

But she turns to you again with a big smile and you find yourself feeling your annoyance fade away. You’re far too in love with her for your own sanity.

"Look, it’s pretty! It would be nice in the entrance of our apartment right?"

"Mh yeah, maybe"

You sigh again, looking at the list. You have the impression that it has lengthened since the beginning of the day. The good news is you’re starting to see the end of the tunnel. You ignore the man who rushes into your shopping cart, leaving Lucy to glare at him instead of you.

"We still need the gift for your brother, the gift for your mother and…"

"Give me this damn list."

You arch an eyebrow but comply, handing her the piece of paper and pen that you carry carefully since you left home. Your eyes are mechanically attracted by the light effects of the decorations and it's true that it is rather pretty.

"Is that the one you like?"

Lucy takes a brief look at the one you are pointing at and nods with a slight smile. After half a second of hesitation, you carefully place it in the shopping cart, balancing on the packets of meat.

"Here" says Lucy after a few seconds.

You pick up the list she gives you, quickly realizing that she added something following what you had already written. Who did you forget? But your slightly desperate look changes when an amused smile appears on your face.

"Smile, Feed your starving and almost dead girlfriend and Let her kiss you?" you laugh softly as you look up at her.

"Yes. And we can already trace the first one."

You keep smiling when she puts her hand in the hollow of your back to kiss your temple. This woman.

"Well, let’s go feed my hungry girlfriend before she falls out then" you do mischievously.

"Yes, please. We’ve reached a critical threshold."

You roll your eyes again and it's with her hand always on you that you take the way to the cafeteria. Needless to say, at the end of the day you didn’t find everything you were looking for and you will have to come back tomorrow. At least that’s what you’re imagining, before you let Lucy convince you to order what you need online.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #lucy bronze imagine

[seelestia]

So…after ripping my heart out with that multi fic…can I request a fluffy one with them celebrating s/O bday? As it was my bday recently I’d love to know what they’d do.

— 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑.

SUMMARY. a birthday gift from your lover already bests any other gifts that hopes to rival.

CHARACTERS. xiao, venti, kazuha, heizou, zhongli, albedo, gorou, itto, scaramouche, ayato, childe, diluc, thoma, kaeya.

GENRE. fluff, crack-ish, a smidgen of angst (childe + diluc), established relationship.

CW. use of pet names (ayato + kaeya), mentions of food (heizou + itto + gorou), implied desire for marriage (childe + diluc).

THOUGHTS. this was sent in july, so happy belated birthday to you, anon 🎉 since october is my birthday month, so i thought posting this now is fitting! hehe, take this and a bandage as a birthday present from me <3

✰ masterlist.

A quiet day spent away from his duties and by your side. XIAO knows he cannot throw you a merry celebration, so the only gift he can offer you is his presence. Even if he doesn't admit it, the Yaksha always notices the brief flicker of loneliness in your eyes whenever he leaves to tend to his duties. Yes, he doesn't understand why mortals celebrate these occasions but he knows that today is a special day — your special day — so, fine, he'll do it. Whether it be strolls through Liyue Harbor or a table for two with Almond Tofu on it, Xiao will try for you.

An invitation to spontaneous travels. "Let's let the wind lead, shall we? Hehe," is what VENTI tells you. You pointedly ask him if it's because he doesn't actually have a plan in mind, but he only pokes out his tongue at you playfully. Now, where would you like to go? Somewhere in Mondstadt? Or perhaps, Liyue? He'd love to brag about you to that old blockhead (read: Zhongli). To him, anywhere is fine as long as you're happy! And at the end of the day, Venti will let you rest your head on his lap as he strums a tune on his lyre that he dedicates to you.

Cuddles under the night sky, finding patterns amongst the stars. As the lover of a certain wandering samurai aboard the Crux, your birthday was celebrated flamboyantly with a toast raised to you by Beidou herself. But in KAZUHA's humble opinion, he prefers this more; when the moon is at its peak and only the echoes of the ocean waves remain, when the crew is long asleep except for you and him. Kazuha relishes in your smile that is as peaceful as the moon above as he traces patterns onto your skin. In the back of his mind, he can't help but thank the world for allowing him to cross paths with you.

A game of finding notes leading you to your awaiting partner. Don't be shocked when you wake up to find a mysterious note with a familiar handwriting that is awfully similar to a certain detective's. When you arrive at the location the clues point to after walking around for almost an hour, you are greeted by the cheeky grin on HEIZOU's face. "You've arrived, my assistant! How was the journey here? Exciting? Fun?" But sight of the picnic basket in his hand catches your attention first. He laughs, "What, you don't expect me to prepare a reward for you? I'm not that cruel, y'know," pressing a playful kiss to the corner of your lips. "Katsu Sandwiches made by yours truly!" Heizou tells you this very, very proudly.

A specialized tea set made with you and him in mind. Sitting across from you on a table at Third-Round Knockout with a cup of tea in his hand, ZHONGLI doesn't think he has ever felt so incomplete without such routine. He wonders if you feel the same? But rather than asking, he decides to present you with a gift on this special day. A teacup embedded with pieces of Cor Lapis, a teacup adorned with gems that resemble your eye color, and a teapot inspired by both designs; and by the way your eyes lighten, he assumes it is safe to say that your answer is "yes". Good, he spent some time saving up Mora for this occasion. (Hm, you're laughing, did he make a joke?)

A bouquet of charmed flowers to remind you of him, always. The cold of Dragonspine is a persistent plague that hauls people away, so the Chief Alchemist doesn't expect you to brave the cold merely for him. Yet, ALBEDO also begins to miss seeing the smile on your face before his very eyes. Amidst his longing for you, he crafted you a bouquet of Cecilias using his knowledge on alchemy. But this one isn't like the others, no, this bouquet is made to last longer. Albedo hopes you'd smile every time you look at it — and he hopes you know, that whenever he comes down from his lab to Mondstadt, you will always be his first destination.

Slices of cakes in various flavors. Before you scold him for the excessiveness, just know that he was trying to pick out the perfect flavor for you — but, but his indecisiveness got in the way! This one, that one, GOROU was already dizzy just from seeing the array of selections. He didn't want to disappoint you, so he picked the most fail-safe (and expensive) plan which is to buy a slice of each flavor. Hence, why you looked at him as if he grew two heads when he came home with not one, but many cake boxes in his arms. Can you blame him for being overly considerate, though? At least, the two of you can share!

A (mini) feast hosted by the Arataki Gang in your name. Of course, what better way to celebrate than a merry feast? Especially when it's for the most amazing and coolest person (you share that title with him, he insists) on Teyvat! ITTO's enthusiasm is so beyond the roof he spilled the news about the surprise party the gang planned for you before the date even came ("Well, it's not much of a surprise now," Shinobu shakes her head). But as long as you get to enjoy some Roasted Lavender Melons with Itto and the rest of the gang while they sing their own version of the local birthday song for you, you're more than satisfied.

Anything you asked for that day. What do you expect? Of course, he didn't prepare a gift. Why should he? It is stupid to celebrate such a meaningless date, anyway. And yet, as headstrong as he is, SCARAMOUCHE still relents (something he absolutely blames your annoying puppy eyes for) and allows you only one wish. You want a gift? So, pick one. He'll grant it, but expect a few grumbles here and there. (Why bother preparing a surprise when you can just directly ask the person what they want? You lowlives are so weird.)

A candle-lit dinner with his hand placed on top of yours. If he were to be honest, AYATO has been looking forward to this for a long time. Some ponder whether it's because he gets to take a break from work or to spend some alone time with you — well, who says it can't be both? But there is one thing you have to say; "I can't hold chopsticks without my dominant hand," you whine, gesturing to said hand that is trapped in Ayato's grasp like a cage. He chuckles innocently, "Oh, you offend me, dear. You act as if I can't feed you myself." Somehow, you can't help but feel like Ayato is spoiling you more than usual. Well, it is only a fitting treatment for the star of today, don't you think? Now, let him do the honors of pampering you.

A stuffed toy version of the 11th Harbinger himself. Call him smug, but CHILDE thinks he looks quite cute as a doll. Besides, Teucer also has one named Mr. Cyclops, so wouldn't it be nice to have matching stuffed toys with your future little brother-in-law, no? Hehe. In truth, Ajax hopes this toy would fill in his absence for a while when 'work' summons him. He wants you to remember him for all the smiles he showed you, not for the sins he committed nor the blood he shed — but hey, no more sad stuff on this day! And you know what? Maybe, he'll order a stuffed toy version of you too... Aha, a good present idea for next year! Oh, you heard that? Hehe.

Matching lockets that have his initial and yours etched on them. You don't think you could ever forget; the look in DILUC's eyes, the subtleness of his fingers as he places the locket around your neck. The metal feels cold against your skin, but his hand that reaches up to cup your cheek makes up for it in warmth. "Happy birthday," he utters with a smile so gentle that you melt into him. In the back of his mind, Diluc wishes he could just go down on one knee and present to you the wedding band he has kept on his person for months now. But not now, when there is so much to take care of, when he barely has time to come home these days — for now, these lockets will have to do. Until then, he hopes you can wait for him... Will you?

A day where your loving boyfriend reminds you why he is a retainer. No, no, no work for you on your birthday! Household chores? Let him. Errands? He'll do it! If THOMA is already well-known for how accommodating he is, then double that for today. It's for you, after all! Even his own employer, Ayato chuckles amusedly after saying something along the lines of "lovebirds". Well, in Thoma's humble defense, he is only treating you as how you deserve to be treated. Don't worry, he won't overexert himself... You're so cute when you worry but if it's for you, exhaustion is nothing to him and he means it.

A romantic impromptu dance underneath the moonlight. The streets are quiet at this time of night, but KAEYA's footsteps echo as he performs a formal bow. He flashes you a grin and holds out his hand, "Dance with me, my love?" You hesitate for a moment and the Calvary Captain laughs, "Come on, no one is watching. Considering it's your birthday, it'd be the utmost honor if you accidentally step on my shoes." Flatterer, you want to shake your head at him — but the way Kaeya gazes at you afterwards invites a smile to your lips instead. Somehow, you know that his words are deeper than just mere flattery. You finally place your hand in his and you swear, this impromptu dance has already made you forget any other gifts you received today.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

✰ TAGLIST: @meimeimeirin @tsuk4sa-yug1 @hcikazu @catcze @semi-orangeapple @yuuki4646 @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @dearcalis @leon-to-sayaka @coquettemaiden — [ bolded names are unable to be tagged + register here to be a part of my taglist! ]

© SEELESTIA, oct 2022. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.

#genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin hcs #xiao x reader #venti x reader #kazuha x reader #heizou x reader #zhongli x reader #albedo x reader #gorou x reader #itto x reader #scaramouche x reader #ayato x reader #childe x reader #diluc x reader #thoma x reader #kaeya x reader #seelestial.inks

[ausetkmt]

Lynching victim Rubin Stacy’s story being told by his family in film screening at NSU

Anne Naves knew something bad had happened to her uncle when her male relatives came home from fishing, each wearing a pall of silence. Dad wasn’t cracking jokes like usual. Grandfather looked grave. And her uncle, Rubin Stacy, hadn’t come back. The next day, someone from the funeral home said a body had been dropped off.

Naves, 8 years old at the time, only discovered the full gruesome truth about her uncle years later. On July 19, 1935, acting on an unproven accusation from a white woman, a masked lynch mob strung up Stacy under a Fort Lauderdale tree, hanged him and shot him 17 times as spectators gawked and children laughed.

The brutality and silence of Stacy’s lynching is revisited in the new documentary, “Rubin,” which will screen on Tuesday, Oct. 3, at Nova Southeastern University. In the hourlong film, the farmhand’s death is recounted through the eyes of his surviving descendants, but mainly through Naves, who was the last living eyewitness to the trauma — and to the secrecy — that followed.

The film, the first to be made by relatives of Stacy’s family, also chronicles the history of lynchings in America, used as a tool of punishment and to foster silence.

“I think (my family) knew that, without telling us (kids) what really happened, they would save us a lot of trauma,” Naves says in the documentary. “The neighbors and our church members respected our silence, too, because they knew that if it could happen to our family, it could happen to theirs.”

For “Rubin” director Tenille Brown, who is a cousin of Rubin Stacy, the film has in recent weeks also morphed into something else: a posthumous tribute to Naves. After filming her interviews for the documentary, she died on Sept. 18 at age 96, leaving behind a strong legacy: She was a Broward County educator for 25 years, teaching at Pines Middle and other schools.

“The biggest piece of the film was Anne,” Brown says in an interview with the South Florida Sun Sentinel. “Without her, there’s no story. She’s the driving force. She was ready to talk. She told me to record her. She really pushed me when I didn’t feel confident and said, ‘Record me anyway. Just go.’ ”

The rest of America witnessed the cruelty of Stacy’s lynching long before Naves did. A series of photos immortalize the moment when a white crowd gathered around Stacy’s body hanging from a tree. These images ran in newspapers nationwide, were published by the NAACP, Life magazine and National Geographic, and are now archived in the Library of Congress.

It was a tale of Jim Crow-era racism that Fort Lauderdale would’ve rather forgotten — the brother of a corrupt Broward County sheriff participated in the lynching — but city officials have made strides in recent years to acknowledge the tragedy by placing memorial markers around Fort Lauderdale. One is on Davie Boulevard and Southwest 31st Avenue, also known as Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue, near where Stacy took his last breath. There’s another on the 800 block of Northwest Second Street, where he lived, and a third at Woodlawn Cemetery, his final resting place. In February 2022, a section of Davie Boulevard was renamed Rubin Stacy Memorial Boulevard.

“I’m glad they acknowledged it,” says Brown, of Pompano Beach. “These stories make some people in the state uncomfortable, but if they are based on fact, we need to tell the truth. You can’t turn your head. These are things you can’t ignore.”

For Brown, it was these memorials — and Naves’ willingness to break her silence — that motivated her to reconstruct Stacy’s story. To do so, she also interviewed Ken Cutler, Parkland commissioner and historian, and Tameka Bradley Hobbs, library regional manager of Fort Lauderdale’s African American Research Library and Cultural Center.

“My family didn’t want to talk about it out of fear for years,” Brown says. “There was shame. There’s an element of hurt, and you can hear that emotion in Anne’s voice. Now it feels freeing. This is a story that was suppressed for years and by sharing it, this is how we overcome.”

Michael Anderson, a producer for “Rubin,” says the film also tackles what too many school textbooks don’t stress enough: the history of Black lynchings.

“For Black youth to know their stories, they have to know the history of lynchings,” Anderson says. “They still don’t know how lynchings were used as a weapon to keep a community quiet. That’s exactly what it did to Rubin Stacy’s family.”

IF YOU GO

WHAT: “Rubin”

WHEN: 7 p.m. Tuesday, Oct. 3

WHERE: NSU’s Rose & Alfred Miniaci Performing Arts Center, 3100 Ray Ferrero Jr. Blvd., Davie

COST: Free, but tickets must be presented for entry

INFORMATION: 954-462-0222; MiniaciPAC.com

#https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/other/lynching-victim-rubin-stacy-s-story-being-told-by-his-family-in-film-screening-at-nsu/ar-AA1huFAr #Lynching in america #Black People #Black American Lynchings #Lynching victim Rubin Stacy’s story being told by his family in film screening at NSU

[peterman-spideyparker]

Speak Now (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Howdy everyone! This fic was voted #2 to post in a poll I did a few weeks ago! I’ve been working with this idea for a while (ie like 9 months), and it’s reverse circumstances of this fic I wrote back in July. I was at work earlier this week with my music on shuffle, and Taylor Sift popped on the playlist, and I’m like “hmm, this works for the fic, I think”, so I’m gonna call reverse ex-post facto inspiration? Alright, now I’m rambling. Enjoy! :)

Summary: Being friends with both Elektra and Matt is by no means easy, especially with them being a couple and your long-standing love for one blind attorney. But regardless, you told yourself you’d always be there for them, no matter what—and that includes being there for them on their wedding day.

Warnings: Angst, hurt comfort, fluff, love confessions, guilt/heartache, ignoring feelings

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Elektra Natchios, Father Lantom

Word Count: 3,014

It’s fine. You just need to remember to breathe. Foggy has the rings, Father Lantom and Maggie have everything set in the main church—everything is fine. Just a few more minutes, and it’s all over. We get that started, we get down the aisle, and we get Matt and Elektra married. Easy peasy.

“Oh, sorry!” you hear Foggy say, his hands firmly on your shoulders to prevent you from falling down as you bump into one another.

“Thanks!” you breathe, steadying yourself.

“Why are you running around the church like a frantic chicken?”

“Just a lot of energy, you know? Adrenaline. Gotta get it out before the ceremony starts.”

“And how are you doing?” Foggy asks. 

“Fine.”

“No, (Y/N), how are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” you try, but to no avail.

“C’mon. You know.”

“I’m hanging on by threads,” you admit shakily. “It’s a lot.”

“Being a bridesmaid and watching your friends get married? Or watching Matt get married to someone else?”

“No, Foggy,” you interject, now determined to kill the conversation where it stands. You thought you put the final nail in the coffin of that thought a year ago at the engagement party.

“But you love him!” he whisper yells.

“Yes, I do! And it’s because I love him that I can’t say anything. For the first time in his life, Matt is happy. He’s ready to do something that he never thought he’d get the chance to enjoy, let alone have, and just as much goes for Elektra. So, I will watch them go down the aisle, I will stand by them as they commit their love and lives to one another, I will watch them kiss and smile and dance, I will help send them off on their honeymoon, watch them welcome their children, and watch them grow old and happy together! They will be happy—finally happy—and that’s what matters.”

“So your happiness doesn’t matter?”

“Not when it comes to Matt’s happiness. Matt’s will always come before mine, and that’s a guarantee.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“Every. Time,” you repeat. “I can’t jeopardize that on the off-chance that he feels an inkling of anything more toward me. I can’t hurt Elektra like that, and I sure as hell can’t unload on Matt like that.”

“But isn’t it better knowing for sure rather than always wondering what if?”

“No,” you say weakly. “Because right now, I know for sure that Matt is happy. I see it in the way he walks, the way he smiles, the way he answers the phone. He is happy, Foggy. And I need to be happy for him. Now, I need to make sure my makeup isn’t ruined, and then I need to go help Elektra before she walks down the aisle.”

“(Y/N)—!”

You pick up the skirt of your dress slightly so you don’t trip, creating as much distance between Foggy and yourself that you can.

“(Y/N), I was worried!” Elektra says as you come back from the bathroom down the hall, having dried your tears and collected yourself from your conversation with Foggy. “I couldn’t find you anywhere! Are you alright?”

“I promise, it’s nothing. You look so beautiful,” you tell her as you spread out her train, plucking off minute pieces of lint from the carpet that clung white fabric.

She gives you a hug and holds me close. “(Y/N)?” she asks as you part. “Can I ask you to do me one last huge favor?”

“I’m your maid of honor—it’s what I’m here for.”

“I know I said I wanted to walk down the aisle alone, but I’m wondering if you would be willing to give me away to Matthew?”

The request is so genuine and the look of hope in her eyes is undeniable. “Of course,” you breathe. “I’m here for you, El. Always.”

She kisses your cheeks and absolutely beams. 

“I can’t believe this is finally happening.”

“I’m so happy for you,” you tell her, looping your arm through hers as we get to the double doors. The music begins to kick up and you hear the rustle of people stand just before the doors open, exposing the both of you to the excited eyes of many. It’s far more difficult than you anticipated to plaster on a smile and keep tears at bay when you walk down the aisle next to Elektra, seeing Matt stand there in a tux looking so happy. 

God, you wish he was waiting there for you. 

That ship has sailed. You can’t drown yourself trying to chase the thought, because you will sink and no one will ever find you. You had opportunities to tell him how you really felt, and you didn’t. You have to live with that.

You don’t know how you’ve managed to get down the aisle so fast with time moving so slow. You can’t bring yourself to say a single word as you place Elektra’s hand in Matt’s before you step to the side to take your place, praying for all eyes to be on them so no one has to watch you suffer with a smile on your face. You affix your eyes on a column just behind Foggy’s head, not willing to try and catch a glimpse of anything that will cause you to feel the multitude of emotions bubbling in your chest. 

It’ll be over soon. You’re doing the right thing. This is how it’s supposed to happen. They deserve one another. Words and phrases like these play on your mind in an endless loop as the ceremony progresses, silently praying that you’ll be zoned out enough for when they finally kiss to not process it when you’re drawn to the words coming from Father Lantom’s mouth.

“Elektra Natchios, do you take Matthew Murdock to be your lawfully wedded spouse?” he asks.

To your surprise, she doesn’t answer immediately. You watch her let out a long breath before she gives Matt’s hands a squeeze, the pause and silence growing longer and louder with each passing moment.

“Can we talk?” you hear her whisper to Matt. 

“Ellie, what’s wrong?” Matt responds softly, his words barely audible. 

Without another word, she takes his hand and they move back up the aisle, and you watch them take a turn to where Elektra was was getting ready just before the ceremony. You lock eyes with Foggy. He wordlessly asks if you know what’s going on with a scrunch of his eyebrows, and you just arch yours in response—the universal cue for “I don’t know”. 

“All the excitement,” Father Lantom chuckles, addressing a confused crowd. “They probably need a moment to collect themselves.” He twists toward you before speaking in hushed tones. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“It’s probably like you said—excitement,” you breathe. Or cold feet. But Elektra wouldn’t do that. She’s been waiting so long for a moment like this. For this moment, with Matt. “If they’re not back in a minute, I’ll go check on them.”

The minute passes in the slowest manner possible, but nonetheless, you stick to your word and scurry in the most non-alarming fashion possible to follow where they went. When you’re unable to hear any voices through the only door they’d be behind, you raise your knuckles to the wood. 

“Guys?” you knock gently. “Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah, just give us a second,” Matt says, but not before Elektra swings the door open. 

“Can you come in for a moment?” she asks softly, and you can see the conflict written all over her face. You let out a small breath, conceding to her request and closing the door behind you. 

“Can I get you guys—?” you start, only to be cut off mid-sentence. 

“(Y/N), tell us,” Elektra starts, her breathing steady and calm. “Tell us we’re doing the right thing. Tell us we should be getting married.”

“What kind of question is that?” you ask, truly confused. 

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Elektra—.”

“Repeat the sentences.”

You take a breath, looking at them. “You both love one another. People in love get married. You’re listening to your hearts.”

“You can’t say it.”

“Ellie, I—.”

“You’re holding something back,” Matt adds, his tongue peaking out to lick his lips. “What aren’t you telling us?” His tone is telling. He knows. Damn super hearing.

You sigh, desperately trying to steady your heart rate and deflect. “You’re both just letting the nerves get to you. You’re getting in your heads.”

“We need to hear you say it,” Elektra tries once more. “Please.”

You sigh, feeling your chest tightening. “You’re doing the right thing. You two should get married. You belong together.” You feel like you’re going to be sick as the last piece of your heart shatters before evaporating into nothingness. “I’m going to make sure that everyone is staying calm. I’ll see you both out there soon, okay?”

As you leave the quiet room, you hear the rush of dress shoes follow after you.

“Hey,” Matt says softly, gently catching your arm.

“Matt, things have been delayed enough. We shouldn’t hold them up any longer.”

“You’re still holding something back.”

“Matt—.”

“I can’t get married if my best friend is lying to me about something. (Y/N), please,” he breathes heavily. “Please, just tell me the truth.”

“You look at her the way I always wished you’d look at me, and I die a little bit inside every time I see it,” you admit feebly, watching his expression change through bleary eyes. “That look . . . God, Matt, you love her! I don’t matter in this. Just go and be with her, and for once in your life, stop being such a masochist and be happy!”

With anguish and regret, you pull your arm free from Matt’s grip, making a turn for the double doors that lead outside rather than the ones that lead into the cathedral, needing get as far away from Clinton Church as you can. 

“How’d you know I’d be here?” you mumble as you curl into yourself in your favorite reading room at the Columbia Law Library. 

“I didn’t,” Matt sighs as he takes a few steps over and sits next to you. “This is where I go when I need to think.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, you caught me. I locked in on your heartbeat and followed it.”

“Why, Matt?”

“Why what?”

“Don’t shit with me, Matt,” you sigh in defeat, taking in his undone bowtie and general state of dishevelment in his formal attire. “Why didn’t you just go through with it, Matt? You two love each other.”

“But we love you, too. You’ve always been there for us, even when anyone with a modicum of common sense would have left us.” He turns toward you. “Why didn’t you say anything? To either of us?”

“It wasn’t my place. She loves you, and you love her. Simple as that.”

“But I love you, too.”

“Not in the same way.”

“(Y/N).” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs grazing over your knuckles. “I do love you like that. I didn’t think you felt the same, and my God, I was too afraid to ask. I didn’t want to lose my best friend. I couldn’t lose you.”

You sniffle, still refusing to meet his eyes. “Don’t let Foggy hear that, it’ll give him a complex.”

You hear a small chuckle escape his lips. “It’s true though. I’m not sure what I’d do if I did something that meant not having you in my life. I just kept my feelings locked away deep down in my heart because I knew I needed you in my life however I could have you. And then I heard what you told Foggy, and I . . .” He rests his forehead on yours and nudges you with his nose so you finally look at his face. “Can you give me a chance?”

“I want to, Matt, but . . .”

“Please don’t say but.”

“I’d look at you, and I would only think about how I ruined the happiest day of your life. Besides. You’re the ex now. It’s friend rule number one not to date their ex, no matter how you feel about them. And Elektra . . . I couldn’t do that to her.”

“Even if she gives her blessing?”

You whip your head around, seeing Elektra standing in black jeans and a red turtleneck, her leather jacket covering most of it. 

“Elektra, I’m so—,” you start. 

“You don’t need to apologize, darling. None of it was your fault.” She moves to your other side and wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a hug. “Before you came to find Matt and I . . . We spoke, and we’re okay. We’ll always love one another, but not in the way that we deserve. But you two . . . You two can. You already have. I’ve seen it. And you’re a shit liar, my darling. I always thought . . . But when you put my hand in Matt’s at the altar, I knew for certain.” She gently tucks some of your loose hair behind your ear. “You just need to have the courage to take the next step.” She gently tilts your face to look at hers. “I’m okay.”

You look between them—Elektra’s eyes filled with resolve and calm, Matt’s a storm of a million emotions, and you can feel how your heart tears in half. Feeling like the room is closing in on you and the air is being pulled from your lungs, you grab your things and rush past them, needing the cool sting of crisp autumn air to help you feel something else then the hot guilt coursing through your veins.

Maybe Matt won’t come in today. The man did take the week off for his honeymoon, after all. But, he is his own boss and can change that as he pleases. Still, the weekend was eventful as hell. Maybe he needed a day. Maybe if you just keep your head down long enough, you won’t have to catch the sympathetic and pitiful glances of Foggy and Karen. No client appointments are scheduled today, either, so—.

“Hey,” you hear a gently voice say at your desk. Looking up, you see Matt with two cups of coffee in his hands. “Got your usual.”

“Thanks,” you say softly, taking it from him, your heart skipping a beat as your fingers brush against one another. You just want things to go back to normal, as if the weekend didn’t happen. This is a sign that Matt wants that too—a drip of normalcy. But why does he have to sound so tender like that?

“Do you have some time?”

“Matt, I—.”

“Please?”

Damn. He knows you can’t say no when he sounds like that.

“Y-Yeah,” you say softly. “How about we go for a walk?”

He nods, letting you get up and put on your jacket. When you get to his side, you take his elbow out of habit, freezing after a few steps when guilt hits you like a freight train to your chest. 

“(Y/N)—,” he tries softly.

“I can’t do this,” you tell him quietly, tears stinging at your lashes and nose. “I’m sorry, Matt, I just can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“Because, Matt! Because I look at you, and I know how I feel! I feel guilt that I am what came between you finally being happy and getting something you’ve told me time and time again you never thought you’d have. I look at you, and still love you as much as the day that I met you and I can’t stop it. But I know that I can’t be what you need because I will never be able to understand you in the way that you deserve—the way Elektra can. I’m just me, Matt. I’m just me.”

You’re not prepared for what he says next. “And what makes you think I don’t love you just the way that you are? For everything that you are? That I’m glad you can’t understand me in those dark ways because you’re the sunshine that makes the darkness easier to deal with? That I know that the only person that I could ever really be with and be happy with is you? That I don’t love you with my entire heart?”

The way that you feel tears fall onto the fabric of your shirt let you know just how hard and fast you’re crying. The way that Matt puts his coffee next to yours so he can cup your face and wipe your tears away only adds to the gravity of his words. 

“Please, angel,” he continues gently. “Please let me help you realize just how much you mean to me. Just how deeply I love you. Because I will spend the rest of my life doing just that, no matter what you say.”

You don’t know what else to do except pull him in for a kiss. It’s not pretty or graceful. It’s wet and snotty and shaky—everything that a first kiss shouldn’t be. But the way that one of Matt’s hands stays on your face as the other moves around the back of your head so his fingers weave into your hair tells you that it’s everything he could ever want. When he finally pulls away, you do what you can to wipe off your tears that fell onto his cheeks.

“I love you,” you whisper as your thumbs skate across his skin. 

“I love you, too, angel,” he breathes, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you so much.”

“C-Can, uh,” you sniffle. “What next?”

“We go for that walk? Talk about anything and everything. We can figure this out. I want to figure this out.”

You nod as Matt wipes the last of your tears away. “Sounds good.”

He kisses you softly once more and loops his arm in yours as we walk out of the office. The way he holds onto you tells you that he never intends on letting go.

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[witchersmistress]

The Damaged and Rage

hello my darlings!! here is another portion of the blood empire for you!! Have a safe and happy fourth of July!!

Trigger Warnings: Sex, anger, drugs, no usage, blood and violence

Word Count: 5.4K

As perusual my dears you do not have permission to copy, translate or use part of my work. if you do ill find you and haunt you for the rest of your days.

August’s pov

“You doing okay?” King asks quietly, studying me with way too fucking much intensity. “Fan-fucking-tastic,” I say, switching lanes. “Not like I’m stuck in a literal pit of hell. Speaking of, why exactly are you visiting Georgia  in July?” “I’m not visiting Georgia,” he says. “I’m visiting you.” “No one asked you to come,” I mutter. “You don’t have to ask,” he says. “I’m your brother.” “Lucky me.” He sighs. “We’re still family, August. Eliza, too. She can’t travel in her third trimester, or she’d be here, too. We can’t bring the baby on the plane for a few months, and I don’t want to be away from them any more than I have to once the baby comes. I didn’t want to wait until Christmas to see you, and you didn’t come to New York this summer, so here I am. Whether you like it or not, I’m still a Walker.” “How the twins doing?” I’d rather talk about them than myself. When they wanted to spend the summer in New York with Ma, it was a blow, but once they were gone, it’s been a relief. They needed to be out of harm’s way, and that means out of my way. They need distance from the guilt, or from the crime, if they don’t feel remorse. Getting them away from any suspicions that might arise in town was the best way to protect them, even if that meant I couldn’t watch over them. So I told them to go, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. We all needed time apart, anyway. 

A summer to forget, to put it all behind us, so it’s just another shadow lurking in our dark past. Or I hope that’s what they’re doing, that they’re not revisiting the place in their minds like I visit the place north of town, drawn back by some invisible cord tying me to the swamp. I found a dirt road that leads in behind it, so I don’t have to park on the side of the highway. No one ever sees me out there, and if they did, they’re probably backwoods rednecks who wouldn’t think twice about me tromping into the swamp in rubber coveralls that just about bake my balls after ten minutes. The twins aren’t around to ask questions, to demand why I’m going there. They’re not around to talk sense into me and tell me not to go. I tell myself it doesn’t matter. No one’s going to find her now. And if they do, there’s nothing linking us to her. We burned her clothes, and I burned all my notebooks. I don’t write anymore. I don’t want to know what fucked up shit would come out. I still go to the Slaughter Pen every Saturday night, but I don’t go to Hockington. I’m a legitimate part of the Walker empire now, with shares in my name and a spot on the board of directors. King seems happy to fill the drive from the airport with tales of the twins’ exploits, so I let him talk. They’re off partying on our old stomping grounds and getting high on this Alice shit, and I’m here with Dad, learning the business I’ll someday inherit by day. By night, I wander the streets or haunt the swamps like some fucking forlorn specter of revenge. It’s done. I killed her. So why can’t I forget her?

I’ve been by her house a couple times, but I don’t want anyone getting suspicious, so I stopped after the second time. I’ve also asked about her casually when the blue-haired girl who lives next to her was outside. I even tracked down Maverick, the piece of shit she used to fuck before me. She’s not anywhere. “You should come back with me,” King says. “It might do you good to get away, too.” My back stiffens, and I glance at him, trying to figure out what he means, what he knows. The twins swore they wouldn’t tell him what we did, but they trust him enough that they probably spilled it. Whatever. I’ll deal with it. It wasn’t doing them any favors to be around me right now. I’d die before I admitted it to anyone, but everything’s been shit since Harper. My insides are raw, jagged edges. From the start, I only meant to destroy her life, not take it. But after what she did, what choice did I have? I did what anyone in my shoes would have done, what everyone expected of me. She fucking deserved to die. She didn’t just sell my darkest secrets and deepest shames to my enemy. She sold our relationship to him one dirty detail at a time. It was all fake. And she didn’t just play me. She didn’t just make me fall for her. She made me believe that someone could do the same in return. That’s the lie I can never forgive. And it’s not that I care if she’s fucking dead. It’s the fact that she vanished like that, without a trace, just like Crystal… “Just stay the fuck out of my business, okay?” I say, weaving around traffic and pressing my foot harder on the gas pedal, ready to get home and out of this trap. My brother sighs. “You could have come back to New York. Then he shakes his head. “I’m doing what I have to do so that you don't get involved like I did.” “Because if you didn’t work for Al Valenti, I’d have to,” I say flatly. I know it’s the truth, even if no one else has the cajones to come right out and say it. King could have gotten out of working for our great-uncle. Yeah, our parents promised him their first son, but Al’s a reasonable guy. He’d have taken me, the best man for the job, if everyone had told him King wasn’t the right fit. It wasn’t our parents or Al Valenti who insisted on keeping the contract. It was King. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “You have a choice, August. That’s all I’m saying.” “And I made my choice,” I say. “You think you’re the only one who can make sacrifices for our family? The twins don’t graduate for another year.” I’m not leaving them with Dad. I know what he’ll use them for. If it’s the only thing I ever protect them from, at least it’s more than nothing.

“Our brothers told me about Harper,” King says quietly. “Did you tell Dad?” So, there it is. I knew they couldn’t keep their fucking mouths shut. But better to get it all out in New York than to let it slip in this gossipy little town. “No, I didn’t fucking tell Dad,” I snap. “She wasn’t his mark.” “She’s a Darling,” he says. “He’d want to know.” “What, you think he’s doing business with some trailer park junkie? She’s not one of the Darlings he’s concerned with.” “And the ones he is concerned with?” he asks. “You’re telling him about them?” “There’s nothing to tell,” I say, gritting my teeth in irritation at the shit I’ve had to put up with for the past year. Now that I’m working with Dad, I’m starting to understand why it’s necessary. But Preston doesn’t make it easy to leave him alone when he’s constantly fucking with us, poking us, trying to get a reaction. It pisses me the fuck off that there are Darlings walking around this town with impunity. “Maybe that’s a good thing,” King says. He thinks the Darlings paid for Crystal’s death already, and maybe he’s right. But he’s not her twin, and she’s not the only one the Darlings killed that winter. “Until we get the casino running, the Delacroixs are untouchable,” I say. “After that… All bets are off.” Once the twins graduate and I get rid of the Darlings, I’ll be on the first flight out of Georgia. The place makes my skin crawl. There are too many ghosts here, too many reasons to look over my shoulder. The girls who die in this town don’t get funerals, don’t leave bodies. They simply vanish, as if the town itself swallows them alive. The boys don’t get funerals, either, but they don’t disappear. The boys leave bodies—with nothing left inside them. Our ghosts haunt Georgia, too.

Harper’s POV

* A few weeks later*

Every week is the same. I go through the motions, but I’m frozen inside, as if it’s not really me there at all. There’s a Harper-sized doll in my place, someone I used to be but am no longer. The world has forgotten my existence. Only the Phantom remembers. I wait for him, for the clean smell of his house, the polished hardwood, the curl of his hard body around mine, the detachment I feel when he’s inside me that’s the closest thing to freedom I can imagine. When I’m not there, I’m a ghost walking the street at night, waiting for him to come back. He always does. Two days a week, he takes me home, feeds me. He fills half his closet with new clothes for me, shoes, jewelry, an expensive purse to carry my phone and keys and wallet. Everything comes to his house in boxes or bags delivered to the door, so he doesn’t have to leave the house except to get me and take me home. He checks the ring he put through my bellybutton to make sure it’s healed, puts dark-colored contact lenses in my eyes, touching my eyeballs like they are his own. I think maybe he’ll pluck out my eye and replace his blind one. But I don’t move, don’t try to stop him when he reaches between my lids and sets the thin lens over mine. “Good girl,” he says, stroking my cheek. “Beautiful.” He opens the closet door and sets me before the mirror. He tells me I’m perfect now, that I’m ready. I stare at the stranger in the mirror with dark eyes and dark lips and brown-black hair, and I think she looks ready, so he must be right. I don’t ask him what I’m ready for. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

A few weeks later, I notice the dark green field outside the Phantom’s window turning hay colored as the grasses droop in the late summer heat. Daisies and Black-Eyed Susans and wild asters dot the grass now. The Phantom stands there, looking out with his hands clasped behind his back, like he’s looking over an empire and not an overgrown field of weeds. “Have the Walkers contacted you?” he asks. I have the same phone number, but no one ever contacts me. Why would they? I haven’t contacted them, either. Everyone texted on the OnlyWords app, and I didn’t download it on my new phone. I didn’t have friends, anyway. Only the Walker boys and their friends got close, and they left me to die. They washed their hands of me, and I have no need to change that. I give my head a single shake, then realize he won’t see it. “No.” He rubs his jaw. I can hear the rasp of stubble. “It’s not enough,” he mutters. At dinner, he gives me a little black dress and tells me to put it on and do my hair. The dress is low-cut but not too revealing, and it hugs my curves and falls around me like it must have cost thousands of dollars. I roll on the stockings and garters he left with it. I put in the diamond teardrop earrings he left sitting on the dresser. I put my hair up the way he instructed and dab on some of the makeup he left sitting there for me. The lipstick is too dark, but I smear it over my lips anyway. I’m no longer startled when I see a stranger staring back at me from behind the closet door. Does it matter who she is? I know she’s a good girl. The Phantom walks behind me and puts a necklace around my neck. I can feel it resting cold against my chest, and it makes me shiver. I touch the charm, a diamond ballerina. He runs his knuckles up the back of my neck, skims his fingertips along my bare shoulders. “You look like…” He bows his head, so I can only see his golden hair, not even his eyes or mouth to give away what he’s thinking. I’ve never wondered what he’s thinking before. It never mattered. After dinner, he orders me to the bed without the usual shower. He doesn’t undress me, just commands me to lie on my back while he pushes up my dress. Then he picks up his phone, angling it so it gets my whole body. “No faces,” I cry, my voice echoing in the high-end apartment. I throw my hands over my face, surprised I can still react that passionately to anything. He’s shot dozens of homemade porn clips of his dick going into me, but he promised me no one would know it was me. Usually he fucks me from behind, anyway. I feel exposed on my back, vulnerable and scared in a way I haven’t felt with him before. Suddenly, I’m shaking all over. “Keep your hands over your face,” he says, laying a reassuring hand on my thigh. “No one will know it’s you.” He plays with my underwear, rubbing his cock against the outside of them, pulling them between my lips, then down my thighs. I pull a pillow over my face. He tugs it a little higher, setting my necklace straight before going back to work. I try not to feel what he’s doing, rubbing his cock between my lips, getting me wet. Finally, he pushes inside me. He lifts my leg and swings it around so I’m lying on my side, so he’s filming my hip with the tattoos. Someone could definitely recognize that. Above my hip, there’s a D branded into my skin. What if my attackers see it and come back for me? “Stop,” I gasp. “I’m almost done,” he says, moving my leg back where it was, so I’m on my back. He cums quickly, shooting once over my belly before pushing back inside me to finish. He doesn’t lower his phone until he’s gotten the whole messy scene. “Good girl,” he says. “You were perfect.” Then he steps into the bathroom, and I hear the shower running.

I get up, my limbs shaking, my pulse racing. Something’s happening to me. Something awakening, some horrible monster that’s rising like a tidal wave inside me, like Godzilla emerging from the ocean. I can’t breathe. I want to race up the ladder onto the roof, to suck in the night and shriek into the sky. I want to sail over the edge, arms and legs wide, and soar to my death below. Some impulse in me rebels at the expensive silk constricting my waist, the heavy pads of the bra. Suddenly, I’m revolted by the body I’m in, by what I’ve allowed to happen to it. I yank off the dress, tearing at the strangling fabric, kick off the heels he put me in, rip off the garters and stockings. I throw them aside and pace the floor in my bare feet, naked as an animal. My heart is skittering erratically around my chest. I feel trapped, caged, though he’s never once told me I couldn’t leave. In fact, he made me leave. I’ve been free all along, and yet, I’m not free. He’s treated me better than anyone ever has, than anyone should, and yet, I think I’ll scream if I see his mask again, if he calls me his good girl one more time. I pull off the earrings and reach for the box they were in, my fingers shaking. I lay them in the jewelry box. There’s a sleek black paper bag with the jeweler’s name on the side because he bought them just for me, maybe just today, and had someone deliver them. There’s a little tag stapled to the bag, the kind that comes on flowers. The kind that tells a delivery person where to send them, since the Phantom never leaves his apartment. There’s a name written on the tag. In looping cursive handwriting, the words Mr. D.

August POV

My phone chimes with a notification on the seat beside me. I check the screen. Lo again. I haven’t seen her all summer. After I found out what Harper did, I was in a bad place for a while. I don’t remember much of the rest of the year. The monster operated in my place, holding space for me until I was ready to come back. When our mission ended, and I had time to think things through, I stopped thinking about what Harper had done and finally looked at the facts behind it. Of course, my mind went straight to the one person who could have told her about Hockington—Gloria Walton. They’d gotten close, thanks to me, and I fucking paid for it. For letting a Darling into my life, letting her get in with my friends. That’s what I get for letting anyone close to me. Still, it’s a dick move on my part not to at least give Lo a chance to defend herself. If she wasn’t the one who told Harper, I cut her off for nothing. Harper could have bribed someone who worked there, seen me leaving with someone and tracked her down, rooted through my stuff or Dad’s when she was at our house and somehow put it together. It’s better this way, though. Better not to have anyone around me who knows shit about my life. When Lo found out about room 504, it felt safer to keep her close, to give her a reason not to tell anyone. Even if we never talked about it, never talked about our families the way I did with Harper or any real shit, our friendship was real. But letting people into my life is a mistake. People blackmail and betray. And if it was her, if she told Harper… Well, Preston can fucking have her. When my phone rings a minute later, I sigh and pick it up. 

We can talk once. Just to clear some things up. I’m not going to give her a ride anywhere, like I used to when she didn’t have gas money. My car smells like a swamp from all the times I’ve dropped my muddy boots and rubber coveralls in here this summer. Gloria would ask questions, and I’m not about to answer. “Hey,” she says. “I figured you’d ghost me again.” “What’s up, Lo?” I ask, my voice sounding weary. “Do you use the OnlyPics app?” “No,” I say flatly, bristling at the insinuation. “Why would I?” “That’s not—I didn’t mean you’d put stuff up.” “Why?” I ask. “You don’t think people would pay to see my dick?” “No!” she says quickly. “I mean, they would, if you wanted to put it up. That’s not why I was asking, though.” “So, you don’t want to see my dick? That’s not how I remember it.” I’m being an asshole, but she’s basically calling me a whore. She knows better than to ask if I use an app that’s basically a sex worker platform. I don’t get paid for sex, and I don’t need to sell pictures of my body for money.

The OnlyPics app was supposed to be a companion to OnlyWords, which is a texting app with, as its name implies, only words in the messages. Everyone likes OnlyWords, but it has no photo sharing capabilities. So the same company made OnlyPics but it was basically a knock-off Instagram where you can’t use captions and the hashtags are hidden, only used by the algorithms to know who to show them to. It probably would have died a quick death if it weren’t for the sex worker industry, who cashed in on three key features—the ability to add a link to profiles, where they added their payment link; the fifteen-second video limit, which let them put up teases to get people hooked; and the private chat feature, which let them send someone the rest of the video for whatever fee they wanted to negotiate or even video chat for a live show. I don’t use the app because I’m not an amateur porn star, and if I want to watch porn, I can do it for free like everyone else. If I need a live feed, I have a phone full of numbers of chicks who would be happy to put on a show for me, and I can do more than watch and jerk off. I’m not interested in that any more than I am this app. “Okay, let’s try this again,” Gloria says. “You remember how Harper disappeared off the face of the earth when you dumped her?” I stiffen in my seat, yanking the wheel to pull off at the nearest exit at the last second. The car behind me lays on the horn, but I ignore it. The noise is almost drowned by the pounding of blood in my ears. “Yeah, what about it?” I ask Gloria. “Well, I think I found her.” “On a porn site?” I ask, hoping like hell someone just uploaded the video of her sucking dick from last year. It fucks with my head to think that one year ago today, I didn’t even know the name Harper Avery. It was another month before I would see her giving head in the parking lot behind the tampon factory. “Hey, don’t judge me,” Gloria says. “Your brothers have been out of town all summer, and you’ve been ignoring me. I’m having a dry spell.” I could tell her the twins are back, but if she ran her mouth to Harper, I don’t want her around my house, running her mouth to my brothers. So I point out the obvious. “There are more than three dicks in this town.” “Once you go Walker, you never go back,” she says lightly. “And anyway, I only saw it because she sent it to Dawson.” I’m glad I pulled over at the exit, because I’d probably run someone off the road right now if I were still driving. I grip the steering wheel with one hand and close my eyes. My voice comes out so normal you’d think I was just a guy who dumped a girl and didn’t give a fuck about what happened to her since. “I’m afraid to ask, but… Does your brother always share porn with you?” “No, you weirdo,” she says. “Someone DM’d him, and I’ve been obsessing about her all summer, so he showed it to me. He thinks it’s funny as shit.” “Why are you obsessing about Harper?” I demand. What the fuck.

 Maybe I should have kept in touch with Lo. She could find out shit, maybe even the truth. “I don’t know,” she says. “Don’t you think it’s weird that she just… Vanished? I mean, I’m not saying you’re not worth going off the deep end over, or that you couldn’t eviscerate her heart so completely she could never love again. She liked to play it cool, but she really loved you, August. Like, the kind of love that eats you alive, and you’re never the same again.” “Put that shit on a ninety-nine cent Valentines card. You could make real money.” “Keep playing you didn’t feel it, too,” she says. “But y’all broke a lot of hearts when you broke up, not just your own. Everyone figured you’d get back together after spring break.”

“What’s your point?” I snap. I don’t need a fucking lecture about how much I disappointed everyone. She can add it to my fucking tab for all the times I fucked up and pissed off everyone who matters. “My point is, even if Harper was devastated beyond repair, she’s not the kind of chick who would let a breakup destroy her. She’s stronger than that. You may be irreplaceable even to her, but you’re still a boy. And it would take more than one boy to break Harper.” Maybe not one boy. But one boy who shared her with two more against her will? A broken hand and a rope she couldn’t get free of, a swamp full of snakes more poisonous than her? Yeah. That could do it. “Then it obviously had nothing to do with me,” I say. “Maybe she got hooked on Lady Alice or Pearl Lady or whatever the fuck they’re calling it now, and she’s selling herself to pay for it like a regular junkie. Hell, her mom basically said as much.” “It did blow up the scene right around that time…” Gloria muses. “Maybe she’ll tell you for the right price,” I say flatly. “That’s all she’s ever cared about.” “August…” 

“What?” “Look, I don’t know everything that went down between you, but I know what it’s like to walk away from love. Just because you broke up doesn’t mean your heart wasn’t decimated, too.” My laugh is brittle, like stepping on glass. “You’re funny, Lo.” I could ask her, just come right out and be blunt, like King. Did you tell Harper about Hockington? But I can’t acknowledge that much aloud. The hotel is its own world. When we leave, we don’t mention what goes on there. I don’t tell the school that Gloria is a scholarship kid. I elevate her, take her to prom, win her crowns. And she never tells anyone that I get a room there every few months. Would she risk telling someone, knowing she could lose it all? Even if she hates me, she loves her status too much to risk it. What would make her turn on me like that? Harper didn’t tell that creep where she found out the information. But it has to be Lo. No one else knows. So, I hung up the phone, letting her think this is about a breakup. That it’s not about a murder, not about a girl coming back from the dead, a ghost dragging her broken body from the swamp and crawling back into my brain to fuck with it even more. I open my email, the one connected to the OnlyWords and OnlyPics apps by default because it’s all made by the same company. I barely remember thumbing away the automatic notifications I got when someone sent me a message this summer. I ignored them all, knowing they were porn spam. My chest is hollow as I open one from my spam folder. It tells me I have twenty-four new messages on OnlyPics. I follow the link and open my direct messages. The first one is a thumbnail of a video, sent this evening. If it’s from Harper, she changed her handle from BadApple. For a few seconds, all I see is a closeup of part of her tattoo. I take it in, examining it until I realize it’s her hip crease, and pressed along the back of her thigh, an expanse of pale skin. It takes me a minute to make sense of what I’m seeing. Whoever she’s fucking, he’s got her folded in half like her legs are over his shoulders while he nails her into the bed. There’s no caption, and there are no words even on the messenger, so I have to click on the profile to find an explanation. Apple Cream Pie, $1k/min.

Time seems to skip. Some caveman part of me must take over, because the next thing I know it’s five minutes later, and I’m five thousand dollars lighter, and I’m slamming my phone against the top of the steering wheel over and over. I feel it crunch and snap, but I keep pounding it until there’s nothing left in my hand, and the pieces of it are scattered across my lap and the floor. Time skips again. I’m in my driveway at home. Blood is dripping down the steering wheel and into my lap. I open my hand and find pieces of glass jutting from my palm in a dozen places. And all I think about is that day my car was bombed, and Harper tried to pick the glass from my face with her tiny, careful fingers. I climb out of the car. There’s a black Jaguar parked on the gravel, a tall figure leaning against it. I walked up to him. Something in me seems to have been knocked loose, and I think I might fucking kill him, even though it’s just Oliver Finnegan, who never goes inside. He doesn’t approve of the family business. “Hullo, August,” he says, his Irish accent distorting the words. Or maybe it’s the ringing in my ears. “Am I in your spot? I can move the car.” “Don’t worry about it.” He cocks his head, his weird, pale eyes taking in the blood on my pants, my hand. “You alright, mate?” I shrug and head for the house. Just as I’m about to step inside, his brother steps out, a black duffle in one hand, probably full of cash or those fucking pearls everyone’s on about. 

Colin Fucking Finnegan. My eyes narrow, my fists clenching until I can feel the glass biting deeper, piercing through my skin and into the muscle and sinew. “Was it you?” I grind out. Part of me knows it’s impossible, but maybe he sent the photo on his way here, or maybe he took it earlier. I need Baron to find the date signature on a video, if it’s even possible. For all I know, Harper’s dead, and she took those videos herself while we were together. If she’d sell my dignity for a scholarship, why wouldn’t she sell videos of herself fucking other guys when she was with me? “Whatever it was, I bet it was me,” Colin says, flashing me a knowing grin that shows off his chipped front tooth. “Are you still sore about that beating you took last spring?” “You know what it’s about.” “If it’s not that, you’re pissed you didn’t get a cut of this,” he says, jiggling the bag. “Don’t fucking push me right now,” I warn. His creepy eyes go smug. “Or… You still on about that whore? I figured that’s what set you off last spring. Everyone in town knows I fucked her first. Are you just finding out?” “Where is she?” I demand, grabbing him around the neck and slamming him up against the wall. “Where the fuck do you have her, you cum guzzling, festering wad of infected dick cheese?” A cocky, defiant grin stretches his lips. “Aww, did you catch something off her?” he asks. “Wasn’t me, mate. I popped that cherry when there were barely three hairs on her pussy. Haven’t touched her since.” I don’t know exactly what happens next. I don’t see Colin Finnegan in front of me anymore. All I see is red. The next thing I know, my brothers and Dad are holding me down on the steps, and Oliver and their uncle are holding Colin back while he curses and struggles and spits. The white gravel is painted red like the day the Darlings vandalized our house, but this time, it’s blood.

“Let me up,” I growl, shoving off the step and wrenching free of my family. I stalk toward Colin, who writhes like a cat getting a bath. I can feel blood trickling down my face, the jagged edges of a few broken teeth, and the throb of one eye that’s already swelling shut. But I don’t feel pain. The other thing that lives inside me has swallowed it, and I can’t feel a thing. “Come on,” Colin yells, dancing in the grip of his brother. “Let’s do it again. I can go all night. Whoo! I feel alive!” I stop in front of him, ignoring my brothers, who have rushed up behind me to grab me if I lose my shit again. But I’m calm now. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” I say to Colin. My lip is broken and swollen so thick my words come out slurred. “If I find out you’re the one who sent those videos, you won’t be alive much longer.” I turn and walk inside. I don’t know why I care. I watched two guys fuck her. I gave them permission. I made sure to watch, so I knew I could never want her again, never think she was mine. I broke her on purpose, but piece by piece, I’m the one falling to pieces.

#henry cavill x you #henry cavill characters #august walker #august walker imagines #henrycavill smut #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #august walker fanfic #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill thirst

[my-own-walker]

The Kids Don't Wanna Come Home - Part 1

note: SURPRISE BITCHES LOOK WHO IT IS!!!! this almost didn't happen bc i lost the entire draft and had a meltdown...lmao

summary: summer with jimmy darling (pre-freakshow events)

warnings: none...for this part...

+++

‘You’re gonna get yourself killed,’ I laughed, a stitch forming in my side.

Propped up on an elbow, I watched as Jimmy hopped from one smooth rock in the stream to the next, foot slipping a bit as it made contact. A distinctly Chuck-Taylor-sneaker squeak rang out amongst the trees as he caught himself. He looked back at me and smiled bashfully.

'Jimmy!' I cried, 'you're going to get hurt!'

'I'm 'aight doll,' he shouted in reply, setting his sights on the next piece of dry Earth. He skipped over and landed rather ungracefully on the marshy shore of the other side of the water. I laughed and shook my head, laying back down on the yellow checkered blanket. Scratchy woolen fabric itched at my sticky skin.

It was summer in our sleepy Florida town. Summer was longer days, hot and sunny with warm balmy breezes. Jimmy and I ran around the woods with abandon nearly every day. It wasn't uncommon to see us lugging a blanket, some Cokes, and a portable radio across town to get to our spot.

The small radio crackled a song I couldn't quite make out next to me. We spent time together in secret, mainly. My parents were rather unkind to the idea of me hanging around 'circus folk.' It hurt Jimmy to sneak around like this, but it was the only way I could see him without being disowned.

We had plans to run away one day. Not now, but soon. The two of us had been in a constant race to grow up and grow past the teenage purgatory we had found ourselves in. Not quite old enough for freedom, not quite young enough to comply.

The hot sun was firmly centered in the bright blue Floridian sky, kissing my skin with its outstretched rays. I closed my eyes under my white-framed sunglasses and sighed. The air felt thick and wet entering my lungs. Many moments in the light drfited by. So quietly, in fact, that I must have fallen asleep as they tiptoed away, lulled by the tranquil passage.

'Y/N!' I heard a distant voice call out. My eyes fluttered open softly. 'Y/N, look!'

I sat up quickly, afraid something bad had happened to Jimmy. My eyes fell upon his figure, still across the stream, waving an object at me. My eyes hadn't adjusted to consciousness quickly enough, so I strained to see what it was. Slowly, I began to make out a bunch of flowers clutched tightly in his hand.

'I found your favorite!' he exclaimed, grin on his face. He started on his voyage back to the other side of the stream, calculating which rocks to leap onto carefully. When he reached me, I was finally able to clearly see five passion flowers guarded safely in his grasp. I gasped slightly at the sight of them.

'Jimmy! They're lovely,' I gushed, propping myself up on my elbow once again to grab at them. 'I guess it is July, huh?'

'Yeah, I guess they're in season again. They're beautiful, just like you, baby,' he smirked.

'Thank you for finding them, my beloved,' I giggled, giddy with the joy of him thinking of me, with the added bonus of him remembering my favorite type of flower. I laid back down on the blanket, flowers clasped in both of my hands.

I watched as Jimmy fanned himself, took a sip of the Coke he brought, and took his shirt off. It was a decidedly hot day. He looked down at me. His shirtless form reached down and caressed the dainty gold necklace that sat on my chest, just below my collarbones.

'You're a vision, you know that?' he sighed. 'Just a total...' he wolfwhistled, not able to find the word he was looking for. Or maybe the wolfwhistle was the word.

'You're not half-bad yourself, Darling,' I replied, with a wink. He inched closer to me so that his face floated right above mine.

'You have no idea what you do to me,' he whispered.

+++

hehehehehehehe short bc i wanna make it two parts bc why not right

#evan peters #evan peters fic #ahs #evan peters x reader #evan peters x female reader #evan peters oneshot #jimmy darling #jimmy darling imagine #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy darling x you

[novarhetta]

I had a dream last night that involved Welcome Home, and for some reason, I really would like to share it somewhere, so I figured here is as good a place as any! Without further ado:

Welcome Back Home, Neighbor

I was walking through a forest with someone, I think it was a friend of mine, though they never said their name. We emerged to what looked like a small village area, and I immediately recognized it as the Welcome Home neighborhood, though there were other people walking around it, collecting information and setting things up. It was almost as if it had become a school of some sort, or a festival sort of place.

I walked towards Home first and was given a tablet just before I could get to the patio. On it were instructions: “Which three houses are closest to Wally's Home? Color in the characters so you can see Wally!”

I looked around. “I thought the houses were in a circle? I guess… I'll have to fill this out.”

My friend wasn't as interested in doing that; they just really wanted to go around and see everything. So while I went up and asked each neighbor some questions, they'd find a souvenir here or there, or do one of the activities the other neighbors had.

I got to meet some of the cast: Eddie, then Julie, then Howdy Pillar. The rest seemed too busy to see me, or simply unable to for some reason.

Eddie's Lumber: It was interesting, next to Eddies Post Office there was a stump, lumber, and an ax, as if someone else lived and worked there too. Completing his quest seemed to involve cutting one of the pieces of wood that was in a pile. Eddie handed me the ax and waited for me to do so. However, after doing only one, he took the ax back and handed me a sticker to signify completing the task. I would have asked him more, but he waved me off and walked away, ignoring any question I might have asked.

Julie on her Own: Julie was the only neighbor that was freely wandering around the neighborhood aside from Frank. And unlike Frank, who would pop up from bushes to tale pictures of bugs every now and then, Julie was happily greeting people and chatting with them. I thought that I'd finally have one of them to stop and talk to, but when I approached her, she cheerfully placed a sticker in my hand and greeted me, but was distracted by a small child tugging on her dress seconds later. I didn't want to be rude, so I continued on.

Howdy's Game: When I went to Howdy's bugdega, which for some reason was now behind Home rather than down a path or off to the side, I noticed that there was a wall of shelves that was full of books and paperwork. Some of the papers were tacked up on the shelves, and others were actually all over the floor or spread out, along with quite a few books that weren't in their proper place. It seemed that the activity here was fixing and reshelving the books, as well as completing some of the papers that were incomplete. I started to study some of the papers, but Howdy interrupted me, handing me the sticker that signified that I was done and did well. I tried to ask why, and I could see that he was sweating and nervous. He told me that I was done, and I could go. He tried to sound happy, but he was clearly panicked about something, and kept glancing at Home, even though it was facing away from his bugdega. I acquiesced and said bye to him before leaving.

So, I finished with a new building, which seemed to be a classroom to learn Spanish for some reason. The teacher had long black hair and a simple, old-fashioned light blue dress. I don't know who she was, but her building was slanted and difficult to walk on.

It also seemed to be a little closer to Home, so I colored Eddie, her, and then Howdy Pillar. I do feel like it is worth noting that if I colored an “incorrect” puppet, the screen would appear to shake and erase all of my progress. So I COULD have cheesed it instead of walking around the neighborhood, but I didn't want to.

Once it was completed, it seemed to automatically be sent to Wally, a sort of printout. There was something odd about the neighbors when I was filling it out, too. Every now and then they might look nervous, or the world might seem just a little darker. Once it was submitted, the day seemed to end into night right on cue. Almost everyone else went home; all of the humans pretty much went home except for like, one per building, maybe. I'm not sure where my friend went.

I suddenly found myself in front of Home. The door slowly creaked open, and I saw Wally's hand slip around the door first, and then one of his eyes. The way it looked at me, I felt like he could see and know any and every thought I might have. Home stood still, but its looming presence was not lost on me.

“I choose this one,” Wally speaks in his monotonous tone. The door opens a bit more, and he holds his hand out to me. “Come inside, please.”

As if drawn in, I can feel that something is very off, but I walk up the path to him. The closer I get, the darker everything seems behind me until the only light seems to be coming from Wally and Home. My stomach is doing flips, screaming about this being off, but I ignore it because my mind whispers, “I want this, I should follow him.” And that is enough. I take Wally's hand, and he leads me inside, the door closing behind us.

-----End Dream-----

I've always debated on sharing my dreams because I have SO MANY all the time. If you liked this dream and actually got this far, please do let me know if I should continue to share them in the future! I do enjoy writing them lol

Also, I'm not sure if this is important, but I hadn't checked the update or even looked at the site for months before this dream suddenly cropped up. Today, however, I did look into it, and holy WOW I'm loving all of the new content! Excited to be back and see what more is to come.

#welcome home #wally darling #dream #writing #writers on tumblr #dream diary #why am I sharing this #spooky #unsettling #Wally what are you doing

[urne-buriall]

i absolutely adored spirit of the west 💖💖💖 do you think you might go back to oit at some point like you did with time has come today? add a second fic or even just a few timestamps? 💕💕💕💕

thank you so much! I'm also very fond of that fic ♥

I'm notoriously coy about posting timestamps, even if I have detailed scenes in my head. part of it's that I only post to ao3 when I have a real story arc and something to be achieved, and a lot of the little bits and pieces in my head are plotless moments. I don't mean to be selfish in keeping these to myself - rather I don't want to spoil the beautiful ideas that readers may have about Dean and Cas' future!

and there are things I don't want to definitively say, like: is John going to come back in a year, two years, etc. OR is he dead in the ground?

BUT, because you asked, I'll give you a few brief things I think about (under the cut, because I wasn't that brief)

January 24, 1998: the first birthday Dean spends with Cas. we had the line in the fic, "Dean, who seldom got taken out for celebrations and made his own cake on birthdays..." let me promise you he does NOT make his own cake that day (nor does Cas make it, as that would be disastrous). instead, Cas takes Dean somewhere new for a winter trail ride, there's a thermos of hot chocolate and a packed lunch, and Dean's already had the best birthday he can remember. afterwards Cas says they're going to drop in on Bobby for a visit, only to surprise Dean with all their friends already there (and Cesar has made the cake). after the upbringings they had, these two men just want to spoil each other and Cas is actually very good at it

March, 2015: Lisa comes back to town with her son Ben after years away and runs into Dean at the Roadhouse. she left at the end of the summer in '97 and barely looked back. those wounds are old enough that she's fine to catch up with her high school boyfriend. she's not discreet in noticing his ring, asks if he married someone from around here, and Dean says it's no one you'd know. says, Cas is the vet and they married as soon as it was legal in the state

Summer, 2002: sometime over the years, at least one of Cas' siblings has reached out to repair the relationship, also aware of how messed up their childhood was and how much Cas suffered in particular. and so when Cas' niece, Claire, becomes a "troubled" and "difficult" 13-year-old, she gets sent to the horse farm to straighten out. cue Cas having no idea how to connect with her, meanwhile Dean--who thinks Cas is being had over by his sib and didn't want a stuck-up teen around cramping their lifestyle for a whole summer--ends up taking her under his wing and teaching her all the Ways Of The Horse and we have horse girl story 2.0

July, 1998: Dean's first gay rodeo. he joins up in some speed events on Indigo. travels separately from Cas, who's a volunteer vet, and has to do all the registration on his own. and the delight I get from this is thinking of @jarchaeology's 1998 Jensen pictures where he looks pure Ken Doll, and him wandering into a gay scene for the first time in his life completely solo and looking like THAT. like, Cas, come get your man. anyways, Dean makes friends with two old lesbians named Sharleen and Val and spends most of his day with them until he finally, FINALLY, gets that dance with Cas at the end of the night

#ask #spirit of the west

[charliethomascoxuniverse]

Still feeling a bit torn every time I see gifs of Michael and Molly. 😕

When she gets back from her honeymoon and Michael ends up seeing her again (on the street, at the pharmacy, or wherever), girl's really just asking to be blanked.

Not to mention, did she really think it was a good idea to screw with a known criminal who went to prison for killing his wife (however accidently)??? But then it's not like it was a good idea to even go out with him in the first place. lol

Girl just couldn't resist getting her rocks off with a dangerous thrill one last time before she got hitched, I guess. Good thing she only pulled that on our cuddly gangster boy and not a man who'd want to retaliate against her.

Poor Mikey though. The least she could've done was have the decency to tell him to his face rather than have him find out like that. 🥺 And I don't buy the idea that she'd have been too afraid to do so and so just decided to ghost him - Molly's no shrinking violet.

(*sigh* At least we got a few more Charlie kissing scenes out of it - and the one with him in his skimpy black boxers 🔥🔥🔥 - so it's not all bad.😅)

(There's a theory some people have that Molly is actually Mikey's sister Jenny, but I don't think that makes much sense. Birdy had to help Michael's mother and sister and go into hiding from Bren, so why the hell would Julie (their mother) risk letting her daughter live in the same city as Bren, even decades later under an assumed identity? Especially once he gets out of prison?

Not to mention that Jenny would surely remember she had two older brothers named called Mikey and Jimmy? I mean, Mikey didn't mention the existence of a sister when he told Molly his mother had abandoned them so if, theoretically, she was actually Jenny she might not have been able to put the pieces together based on that. BUT Molly did Google Michael before their first date so surely she'd have seen info on his family - likely including at least some of the names of his other male relatives - so might not something have clicked then?

There's just so much we don't know. *sigh* We've no clue how old Jenny was when Julie took her away, but she quite likely wouldn't be able to recognize her brothers as adults if she hasn't seen them in over 25 years. If she and Julie lived under assumed names, and she was young enough, it's possible she might not have remembered her surname is Kinsella, so she couldn't have looked up the rest of the family on the internet to know what they look like as adults.

Of course, Julie would've had to deliberately withhold info from her growing up for her not to have known who her family was. And that's too dangerous a sort of ignorance to let the girl carry her whole life with a father like Bren, surely? And unless something happened to Julie in the interim years - she'd never have let Jenny move back to Dublin, not so long as Bren was still alive.

As a theory, it's not impossible, but I still find it far-fetched. *shrug* Very much looking forward to S3 so we can find out more about Julie and Jenny and, hopefully, see them reunited with Michael and Jimmy after all these years. 🙏)

#*me talking to myself in public about Kin again* #michael kinsella #molly the cute pharmacist #charlie cox #danielle galligan #kin amc #kin amc spoilers #my random ramblings

[tacomanarrows]

Decided I want to post this big project I did back in late May/early June! This was made to celebrate the 5 year anniversary of the release of Owl City's album Cinematic, on June 1st! It'll be a long post, so just be aware of that lmao

Since I started listening to Owl City again earlier this year, Cinematic has become my favorite album of his and one of my all time favs in general alongside Abandoned Pools’ Humanistic and Beat Crusaders’ EPop Making!

So with that, I wanted to draw something based around each song! With 15 songs on the album (not counting alt versions), they all translated nicely into pieces for this project! I also included a film border around each piece to tie them together, as well as due to the fact that on the album itself, each song is about a different experience or memory Adam Young has had throughout his life. He's said that he felt like writing these songs was like watching scenes from a movie, hence the name Cinematic!

As a sidenote, 4 of my characters (Shep, PBnJ, Rye and Pumpernickel) are in a cover band together called Let's Get Back!, and in addition to just celebrating Cinematic, this would also sort of be a cover album by them, hence why it says "Let's Get Back! presents" on the banner :] I'll post more abt Let's Get Back! down the line, but if you'd like to read about them now, you can check out their info hub! These pieces are almost all just Shep, despite Let’s Get Back! being a 4 member group. But since Owl City is just Adam Young, having most of these just be Shep made more sense haha

Piece by piece/song by song breakdown below the cut :]

Track 1: Fiji Water!

A song about jumping into something new and going wherever the ride takes you, since it was about Adam’s experience with signing onto a record label. The water slide vibe just felt rlly fitting here and was really fun to work with!

Track 2: The 5th of July!

Considering I was born in January rather than July like Adam was, I wanted to make this one as young Shep enjoying the fireworks, as they’ve always been something that’s fascinated me :]

Track 3: All My Friends!

My second favorite song on the album!! It’s so joyous and fun I love it so much! Of course, had to draw Shep with all his friends! This piece by far took me the longest out of all of these at more than two days lmao. It features (from left to right): Starburst, Rye, Luau, Shep, PBnJ, Pumpernickel and Wilkołak!

Track 4: House Wren!

Another joyous song about looking for a new house and having a song to sing while doing so. Just Shep listening to the house wren sing it’s happy song, simple yet effective :]

Track 5: Not All Heroes Wear Capes!

A really sweet song Adam wrote about his dad. To capture that sort of innocent admiration, I drew something Shep would have drawn for his dad at 8 years old and I think it came out super sweet <33

Track 6: Montana

I love the feeling of grandeur in this song, with lyrics about how enchanting and spectacular the landscape of Montana is! I’ve never been there myself, but I’ve seen pictures and yeah, it’s definitely amazing! So Shep is out there enjoying the amazing scenery

Track 7: Lucid Dream!

A much more abstract song to balance out the others, I wanted to capture the very, floaty starry vibe of this song for lack of a better term haha. I really like the simplicity of it! I also love the line in the song about being a light sleeper, but a heavy dreamer

Track 8: Always!

This is the one song on the album that doesn’t quite hit the mark for me, and that’s because it’s a song centered around faith. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, I’m just not a religious person. So I decided to interpret the meaning as always having a person you can love and count on to always be by your side, hence why I did it with Shep and PB, who in addition to being bandmates, are also bfs hehe :]

Track 9: Cloud Nine!

Another one of my favs, this is such a PBnShep song <3 What I went for here was a look like they’re outside stargazing and Shep is telling PB how much he cares about him while pointing out some of the amazing things in space

Track 10: Winners Never Quit!

A nice and cheerful song about never giving up and keeping on! I love the message of this one and it’s sort of retro chiptune vibe. Pretty straightforward here, just Shep with a big checkered flag for reaching your personal finish lines!

Track 11: Madeline Island!

My personal favorite out of the three travel related songs on the album (this, Montana and New York City), this one has the same feeling of grandeur that Montana does, but even more so! I also love the story of a camping trip to this island in Lake Superior, so I decided to do that! I also stylized it a bit with colored lineart for the landscape and I rlly like how that came out! Another piece that's up there as one of my favs from this project hehe

Track 12: Be Brave!

A song about the night Adam met his girlfriend at the movie theater, this is another very sweet song with a message about believing in yourself and well, being brave! Shep tends to get flustered and nervous sometimes when meeting up with PB, especially early on, so this song fits him well

Track 13: New York City!

The boys take a trip to NYC and look up at the spectacular Empire State Building! Having grown up about an hour outside of NYC my whole life, I don’t quite have the same ethereal view about it that others might, but I won’t deny it’s impressive! The Empire State Building especially is one of my all time favorite buildings :]

Track 14: Firebird!

A song about growing up, this is another one I really love. I feel like a staple of childhood is sitting with your friends outside at a wall or something similar and just talking abt life and enjoying each other’s company, so that’s what I went for. It’s another simple piece that I really enjoyed making as well as the final result!

Track 15: Cinematic!

And the grand finale!! Cinematic is my favorite song from the album and my second favorite Owl City song overall, just behind Rainbow Veins!! After all of these songs that Adam wrote from his experiences, this song feels like a magnificent culmination of that and a passing of the torch to us to go and be the stars of our own movies and lives! It’s such an amazing song with a fantastic message and I can’t get enough of it! I also used some new brushes to make the film strip and I’m actually super happy with it!

So all in all, Cinematic is my favorite Owl City album and one of my all time favorites in general. Every song is unique and brings a great message and story. This project, although very time consuming, was an absolute blast to work on and brainstorm around. This album means so much to me and I really hope I was able to showcase some of that here. Please go give it a listen if you’ve never heard it before, or even if you have and it’s been awhile! I know there’s a lot of people who don’t like Owl City’s newer stuff, but give this one a fair shake! (Coco Moon is a fantastic follow up too btw hehe) So overall, thank you Adam for making such fantastic music for so long now and I can’t wait to see the show in Indianapolis later this year!!

#Owl City #Cinematic #Owl City Cinematic #fanart #fan art #music #music fan art #owl city fanart #furry #furry art #sfw furry #fursona #my art #anthro #cartoon art #art #oc: Shep #oc: PBnJ #oc: Wilkołak #oc: Starburst #oc: Luau #oc: Rye #oc: Pumpernickel #project #TacDraws

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Needed to share this with the fans because Jeff too was a fan of music. Things go into the past and I'm here to carry them on, even if it is through the aether.

If you want to see Jeff Buckley's handwriting, his scrawl's there ("Love is rebellion - Rough Trade I miss you already," he writes "too early in the day, March '94").

Alex Marshall

Tue 3 Jul 2007 07.42 EDT

With Fopp gone, Rough Trade is the last bastion of the record shop

Rough Trade is replacing its Covent Garden shop with a megastore in east London. But is this a good thing, or merely a last hurrah?

Sonic Youth are among the seminal acts that have played at Rough Trade in Covent Garden since it opened in 1987

There was only one topic discussed by students last week: the closure of Fopp - the UK's largest independent record store chain.

When it was announced, you could hear the crying on every campus - and rightly so, as where else could you buy the new Queens of the Stone Age record and still have change? But newspapers also did their fair share. It marked the end of the record shop, they said - everyone will have to buy their music either online or at the supermarket.

But if you thought Fopp's demise was a bad sign, later this month Rough Trade in Neal's Yard, Covent Garden, will also shut up shop. And it'll be taking two decades worth of history with it.

The teeny space - it fits about a dozen people, uncomfortably - down a stairwell at the back of a skateboard shop, is the lesser heralded of the two Rough Trades. Largely because no one can find it. But since opening in 1987, it's seen everyone from Sonic Youth to Lily Allen play gigs there while shoved in a corner. They've all signed the ceiling too, turning the shop into a veritable museum of indie.

If you want to see Jeff Buckley's handwriting, his scrawl's there ("Love is rebellion - Rough Trade I miss you already," he writes "too early in the day, March '94"). So is that of Fall frontman Mark E Smith (signed "Mark E Sonic", for God knows what reason). And then there are Guardian favourites like LCD Soundsystem and the Gossip ("Kleenex 4 ever", Beth Ditto's written, referring to the pioneering female punk band).

There are also loads of pictures of cocks, proving that if you give any male a marker pen - be it a thirteen-year-old or a thirtysomething rock star - there's one thing they're going to draw.

Most of the bands who have played there, though, are of a much smaller stature, reflecting the rather (ahem!) distinct tastes of the shop's staff. Appropriately enough the final gig last Thursday was played by The Young Republic, an eight-piece country-pop band from Boston, Massachusetts, featuring pedal steel guitar, upright bass and violin. Although there were only six of them on that occasion for space reasons.

Rough Trade is replacing the shop with a 5,000-square foot megastore off Brick Lane in east London. The site is little more than an empty warehouse at the moment, but by the time it opens on 20 July, it'll feature a proper stage with a proper sound system and a "snug area with free wireless connection" (please don't mean a coffee shop).

Rough Trade is portraying the move as a brave one, showing the potential independent record shops still have. But in light of Fopp's demise it seems more like a last hurrah - the company chasing the "cool kids" to east London rather than believing the records it sells are enough to entice the cool kids to them. With such a large area to fill, there's also the likelihood it'll have to adopt a soulless "pile it high, sell it cheap" approach to record selling - something which goes against the ethos of the shop and which clearly didn't work for Fopp.

Here's hoping I'm wrong and the new store thrives, bringing bands like Mika Miko (current Neal's Yard favourites) to wider attention. But what do you think? Can independent record stores still flourish, or should they finally give in to the Amazons and Tescos? Does Rough Trade's history make it immune to market trends - or is it just as vulnerable as Fopp was?

“When he played the Rough Trade shop in Covent Garden, I made sure I got in. I stood on the stairs six foot away from him at eye level. He did Boy With the Thorn in His Side and he smiled all the way through. Afterwards we talked about The Smiths and The Pretenders. I’ve met so many tossers in music, but he was a lovely guy, the most talented person I’ve ever met, but also the nicest.”-Bernard Butler, Suede, Mojo, August, 1997 (I believe both the pic and Bernard seeing him there happened on this day)

#jeff buckley #love is rebellion #march 1994 #rough trade #bernard butler #suede

[chiefyakousdilftits]

I don’t think I’ve ever really uploaded the very specific version of Yakou I had in my mind since like July, so, here it goes. ✨

✨ Yakou Furio Headcannons Two ; Electric Boogaloo !! ✨

( This is going to include both the Rain Code era of Yakou, and my little spinoff AUs / Devil’s Deal and Project Ninjin 💕 )

( CW ; Drug Usage !! Mental Health !! Trauma !! )

✨ Rain Code Era !! ✨

✨ Yakou does actually have an apartment in Kanai Ward, but he doesn’t really go back there too often. He and his wife both lived there, so being in a place that has practically been untouched since her death really stirs up a lot of sad feelings, so he avoids it as best as he can. He promises that one day he’ll clean it up and move back, but it never ends well when he’s there by himself for too long.

✨ He’s the youngest of three siblings ( and also the tallest ) !! He’s also the only one that lives in Kanai Ward. His mom moved across the world to her hometown, and his siblings live in various places around the world. He’s always wanted to visit his mom, but given the travel restrictions in Kanai Ward, it’s near to impossible to get out of there.

✨ He owned rabbits growing up !! He has a keepsake of rabbit feet in his desk somewhere, from all the previous rabbits he owned. He would gladly have another pet, but it doesn’t feel right to have a larger animal that needs to go outside on the submarine, and he barely has enough money to take care of himself, much less another living thing.

✨ Literally the worst smoker’s cough, also really bad sleep apnea. No, he’s not going to a doctor for it. Lots of waking up in the middle of the night to cough and clear his throat. Yakou doesn’t really get restful sleep, but he’s kind of used to it at this point. It’s part of the reason why he sleeps in so late.

✨ Has always loved the rain, he’s one of the few people that doesn’t get tired of it raining in Kanai Ward, still jumps in rain puddles when he passes by them. :))

✨ Has super bad eating habits, and rarely ever eats unless he feels like he’s starving.

✨ He’s pretty lanky, tends to trip over his own limbs. His body is soft, and he’s not very toned, especially in his hips and stomach. He definitely has muscle in his arms, chest, and shoulders, but he tends to get sore easily, and doesn’t really want to do lots of heavy lifting. He hasn’t really needs to for years.

✨ He’s probably good enough to protect himself at self defense, he can walk away from a fight, but he does get pretty banged and bruised up.

✨ He does actually need glasses, but the ones he’s wearing aren’t prescription, they’re just his late wife!s regular old sunglasses, so he tends to squint. Don’t call him out on it though, he’ll deny he needs them until the day he dies.

✨ Does not take care of himself medically speaking either, he will avoid going to the doctor at all costs, even if he’s sick. Fortunately for him, he has a rather good immune system, so it’s rare for him to get sick, but he does have unmanaged and overlooked medical conditions.

✨ Has four tattoo pieces, two half sleeves on his upper arms of flowers, his signature chest and stomach tattoo, and one on the back to match the front !!

✨ Main choice in pajamas is his suit pants, he hasn’t gone back to his apartment for any, and doesn’t really set aside money to buy more.

✨ I’ve personally always seen Yakou as cisgender ( though I definitely experiment with Trans! Yakou and love the idea of that ), and he is closeted biromantic / bisexual, disaster bi energy. He definitely tries to be as supportive of queer people as he can, but admittedly, being an older queer person, he’s a bit out of the loop on some things.

✨ I headcannon Yakou being forty - one at the time of Rain Code !! Has grey hairs for sure, though he doesn’t feel like he’s aged much since his late thirties. Doesn’t really have any sort of wrinkles yet.

( Now We’ve Reached Lop AU Territory !! )

✨ Devil’s Deal Era !! ✨

✨ Yakou is so mentally ill and unwell. Much more hardened than Rain Code! Yakou for sure.

✨ The OG! Yakou, human Yakou, non - homunculus Yakou !!

✨ Definitely gotten much better at self defense, though due to untreated trauma among other things, his fuse is much shorter. He’s bordering on paranoid at this point, and knows that people are out to get him, so he’s quick to react when he’s anxious or cornered.

✨ Unfortunately took up a lot of drugs during this era, it really adds to his paranoia and temperament, as well as his overall health. Also does a lot of chain smoking, it’s more of a coping mechanism at this point.

✨ Avoids doctors and hospitals like the plague, he genuinely will do whatever it takes to not have to go to the hospital, and really gets into home remedies and such to try and clear up any sicknesses. Keeps a first aid kit in his car to take care of injuries, and has definitely made splints for his fingers and even his leg at one point.

✨ Gets a few scars, ranging from one across his nose, one on his jawline, a few on his torso, a couple on his arms and legs, and a rune scar on his neck ( due to making a deal with the devil ).

✨ His sunglasses end up getting broken, and he doesn’t stop wearing them. It’s a reminder to keep going in the situation that he’s in, even though the cracks in the lenses obscure his vision, and by the end of Devil’s Deal, he’s just wearing the frames, because the lenses get busted out. It’s a comfort item to him.

✨ One of the few survivors of the Blank Week Mystery, he ended up escaping with a few others, and they live in an apartment complex together for awhile, until he makes a deal with the devil. Admittedly, he wasn’t the most badass survivor, and partially thanks dumb luck for making it out alive. It wasn’t really lots of fighting on his way out, more so just keeping quiet and knowing when to time his movements.

✨ Was a bartender again for awhile, and genuinely enjoyed his job this time around, especially after surviving what he did and going through the things he went through.

✨ Definitely exhibits symptoms of PTSD, depression, anxiety, paranoia, and substance abuse disorder.

✨ He becomes much thinner and definitely more dehydrated after awhile, his skin sticks to his bones and muscle, making him seem a little more toned if you don’t look close enough. Though, upon further examination, you can definitely tell he’s extremely unhealthy, with his hands showing it the most, due to his fingernails being unhealthy and the inability to find the veins in his hands and arms, and his breathing problems being much worse.

✨ Honestly so much more grouchy than the Yakou we know, especially nearing the end of this arc, but he’s just having a tough time in general throughout this entire arc.

✨ Project Ninjin Era !! ✨

✨ He’s now reached the age of 42, yippee !!

✨ Still struggling with mental illness, but has built up a wall, so while he’s definitely still very aloof, he still manages to have somewhat genuine interactions with people, especially Yui, but you can definitely tell that he’s trying to keep himself emotionally distanced from many people.

✨ This is the first time in years he’s had a comfortable home to sleep in, though he finds it almost too comfortable, too girly, too soft. But yeah, the image of Yakou sleeping in Yui’s office / guest bedroom, surrounded by all these frilly throw pillows, heaps of blankets, and stuffed bunnies is hysterical.

✨ Finally gets actual glasses !! He keeps the same frame shape, but he now has glasses that fit his head better and actually feel comfortable to wear, rather than digging into his head and nose. He ends up getting the transitional lenses too, so they get darker in the sunlight, but lighter when not in the light.

✨ Actually gets a lighter wardrobe with more breathable fabrics and such, especially since Ninjin Meadows is much warmer than Kanai Ward, and now has actual pajamas that consists of either old thrifted band tees or regular baggy shirts with flannel pants or his boxers.

✨ Starts going to the doctor at the constant insistence of Yui, eventually gets referred to a therapist for his mental health, as well as a primary care doctor, where he learns that he actually does struggle with sleep apnea, COPD, and one of his knees had healed incorrectly, so now he is encouraged to wear a knee brace / wrap to help support it due to the muscle and bone damage.

✨ Still has a complicated relationship with food, because he didn’t really eat unless he had to before coming to Ninjin Meadows, so his cues on when he’s hungry isn’t something he really picks up on anymore, but Yui definitely makes sure he eats at least two meals a day.

✨ You can definitely tell that he gets healthier during this arc, he’s more capable with helping Yui out with heavy lifting and builds back his upper body muscle ( especially in his arms, shoulders, and chest ). He also mentions that it feels like he’s gaining weight back, and while he’s initially upset about it, he eventually embraces it, getting somewhat of a a dad bod.

✨ Really shows off his skills in taking care of rabbits during this arc !!

✨ Stops smoking cigarettes, but has definitely never given up on smoking weed.

✨ Eventually gets a CPAP machine so he can sleep better.

✨ If anything, living with Yui, he has a more comfortable place to stay and someone actively encouraging him to take better care of himself, and while he’s extremely reluctant to do so, vehemently rejecting any kindness for a little bit; slowly, but surely, Yakou starts to get better again, and learn how to cope with his trauma, as well as take care of himself. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s not still a grouch like in Devil’s Deal, since he still very much is much more grumpy than in Rain Code, but now he’s learning how to care for himself in ways he never did before. 💕

#master detective archives: rain code #rain code #raincode #master detective archives #yakou furio #master detective archives: project ninjin #master detective archives; devil’s deal #master detective archives au #cw drugs #cw mental health #cw marijuana #lop’s aus !! #lop rambles !! #lop’s headcannons !! #rain code headcanon #yuikou #mentions of yuikou

[discluded]

🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

🫂🫂🫂 right back at you friend

also omg OK hold on I'm just gonna answer all of you at once

@ shit talk in person anon - yes, some of that but also there didn't seem to be a single person he didn't have something negative to say about either. I'm kind of surprised Poi thought she'd be exempt from all of it. Listen, piece of life advice, if there's someone in your life (usually a friend) who seems to shit talk like dozens and dozens of people they interact with to you, especially when you don't know them or are questioning why that annoys them, then there's a 100% likelihood they're also trash talking you behind your back too. Dump those people.

@ how can you love someone you don't know anon & @ adamant that he is innocent anon - they don't really love him or know him, they treat him like a doll they can control. I believe you sent this before the new text leaks today, but Bob continued to encourage them to give him expensive gifts and form these parasocial bonds with him while others like Apo intentionally try to draw these lines between the personal and the professional and discourage this kind of fan behavior. A lot of times, these types of "fans" (stalkers, tbh, maybe digital stalkers) don't really have control over negative situations in their life and want to treat someone famous like a doll they can control and claim they're the reason that idol/actor/musician is famous. It's for their own psychological gratification. That's also why they see exposing Bob's behavior is a direct attack on them personally.

@ fandom isn't what it used to be anon - i don't think it's meaningful to say things are worse or better, let's just say that things will always continue to change. People who loved KinnPorsche were around more when the show was airing and then left (reasonably because the project finished), people split off to support their own favorites' new projects, which is also reasonable! Sooner rather than later now, there will be MA fans who have never watched KinnPorsche, there will be Jeff fans who're only around for his music, etc. New projects will bring in new fans to the actors, and bring those fans to their old projects too. That's why it's important to keep supporting their work.

But I will say how factious the fandom is directly caused by Bob intentionally sowing discord and tension between different fan groups. The translated texts show that he was purposefully initiating it and gleeful that it succeeded 🤷🏻‍♀️ You can't save things that are rotten at the core and he rotted it.

@ nobody spoke up anon - i don't like to give attention to toxic solos (and they locked their account anyway) but from what I understand, they meant no one spoke up for A not being at the promo shoot because Daemi intentionally booked it on a day he had other professional obligations. It's one of those "we need to protect Apo boo hoo it's us (his fans) and him against the world" in their usual deranged strain. Apo did take to Twitter to criticize Daemi when it originally happened which was in April, and Daemi was finally ousted from BOC in July after the SH situation on set was exposed.

Given that Bob intentionally told Poi to make up some excuse as to why Apo couldn't be at the shoot and then make BOC (who was unaware of this situation) take on the burden of explaining it, they probably had as many excuses lined up the day of the shoot as needed in preparation for any questions other actors might have had about why Apo wasn't there. Of course all of us are angry Bob did this to Apo, but to criticize the other actors, who had no final say in the product or knowledge this was happening, is absurd. Why Pond went along with it is another question

#oh boy #anon

[ask-artsy-oncie]

Do you have some behind the scenes or development info about Jules? Since you talked about designing Yy 😊

Sorry for answering this one so late anon! I've been very sporadically online the past couple of days. I know you sent this today but like still.

I just wanted to make sure I answered this proper cos I like talking about behind the scenes stuff a lot ;w;

Hmmm. So Julio. Let's see...

Well, originally their name was going to be José, since that's the first half of my name. It was definitely something I teetered back and forth on because I know José Carioca is not only already a Disney character but literally in Ducktales 2017. I mean... we have two Disney Afternoon characters named Louie.... but still. Ultimately I decided on Julio. I actually have a cousin named Julio, though we don't live in the same country and haven't seen each other since we were kids. It was more because I was born in July hahaha.

Ah, yes! "Starleta"! I actually came up with the character's surname before changing my pseudonym! Because I loved it so so so much and it really vibes with me so well I decided to have it for myself, too :) what's interesting about that is that my older pseudonym, Artsy LaVerne, is also based on an OC - it's the deoncelerized version of my askblog onceler (since LaVerne means "born in spring" and it was fanon that the Onceler's birthday was on Earth Day!) Starleta just felt appropriately magical and fictional! And it's a play on my own last name!

I figured their nickname would be "Jules" - I imagine that in their "original" Talespin incarnation it'd be their whole name because DT17 did a lot to Latin-ize characters and I kinda wanted to play into that, like literally (retroactively) Latin-ize a character I made up lol, just so it felt a little more immersive. But I also wanted this DT17 version of them to have a nickname, preferably one syllable, that Kit could call them, because Kit is the kind of guy who would lean towards giving people/calling people by their nicknames rather than their full names.

They were originally going to go by he/him pronouns! This was because I was feeling massively dysphoric when I was designing them and very much wanted to feel like a man. What made me change my mind is the massive amount of euphoria I felt seeing an androgynous they/them character already on Disney - Raine Whispers :) and I knew then that I wanted to change Jules's pronouns.

Their two most important magical elements are their broom and their tarot deck - their broom, because I've yearned to have the power of flight for literally as long as I can remember, and their tarot deck because I actually read tarot IRL and practice witchcraft! I imagine that in the cartoon world where magic is literally real, tarot works more like the Alethiometer in the Golden Compass movie, where if you know how to read it, the answer appears to you as clear as day, with little to infer or guess at - that's why they always get a little piece of information they don't know the context to, like their deck is almost being snide with them by giving them a riddle rather than a straight answer. It obviously wouldn't be that way in a real tarot deck.

Their broom is also their comfort item, and inferred to be kind of alive in its own right for a reason! I wanted an analog to my dog, who is very much someone who keeps me calm, who essentially functions as my emotional support net, who understands me and is as inseparable as we can be (she is not a registered service animal so I cannot take her everywhere). Jules very much emotionally depends on their broom, and feels better when they're actively holding it or can at least see it. I they made it themself, much like how I raised Cali from a puppy, literally just old enough to be removed from her mother, there's a lot of care and love involved. I've pondered, but I honestly don't think they'd be able to handle if it ever got broken.

I decided, in order to help myself develop them, to try also developing an "original" Talespin incarnation of them that could potentially be rebooted. I imagined them like a side character in one of the comics (one, because those inconsequential side characters were the kinds of characters I used to fixate on, so it felt fitting, and two, because it would also be easier to keep them androgynous without ever having to confront their gender - they wouldn't have enough of a presence for it to matter lol) kinda like the daughter of Baloo's old boss, or the homeless folk who raised Kit - major players in the specific issues they appeared in, but essentially nonexistent outside of that particular comic. I almost even wrote and drew the hypothetical Talespin-style comic that I imagined them coming from, until I realized I was too exhausted to do all that hahahahahaha.

I believe the plot was about H4H being hired to deliver magically significant jewels (under the guise of it being "jewelry") from the island that Jules and their family live on - who in this 'verse are all witches, no real "not believing in magic" issues present, though they're not very open about it because magic can be dangerous in the wrong hands, of course, which is why they claim the cargo they're sending out is just jewelry. But H4H gets ambushed by Karnage and his crew as they're leaving, motivated by the precious jewels, causing them to be trapped on the island. The adults are all tied up by the pirates, but the kids get away (Jules is an only child in this 'verse, or maybe perhaps only has much older siblings, they're meant to be the youngest of their family, and a late bloomer in developing their magic). As Jules cannot use magic yet, they lament that they, Kit, and Molly, are powerless to save their families, but Kit comes up with an idea to trick Karnage rather than overpower him. Jules confronts Karnage "alone", proclaiming themself to be a powerful witch who will make him pay for imprisoning their family. Karnage amusedly dares them to prove it, to which Jules pretends to cast spells on him while Kit and Molly, unseen by the pirates, play tricks as though to make it seem like spells are actually being cast (hooking a fishing line to one of the pirates and lifting them to make it look like Jules is levitating them, discreetely setting one of the pirates' hats on fire to make it look like a fireball had been thrown, releasing a basket of snakes to make it look like they were magically manifested) and it scares the pirates off, the kids having saved the day :)

Hahahahahaha I know it's very simple and rather dumb, but I felt like it was rather on par with the way Talespin comics are written (and that's no shade, I do love them, but they're often very simple like that.) Maybe someday I'll be able to draw it! Maybe. There was also absolutely (and adamantly!) no romance between Talespin!Jules and Kit, because I just don't feel comfortable shipping a self-insert with a child character, even though the insert character would also be a kid. Just feels wrong. Talespin!Kit is my blorbo, it's DT17!Kit who is my husband, ha. Talespin!Jules and Kit are strictly platonic.

That's all I can think of, for now. Sorry I don't have any pictures for this one like I do for Ty. I'm typing this on my phone and don't have the energy to pull up my computer to find early sketches - I did all their visual development digitally. But honestly most of what I've posted of them is all there is, even their Talespin version is in my introductory post for them. Hope you liked this, thanks for the distraction ;w;

#Julio Starleta

[phynoma]

As a countdown to Halloween, I'm sharing the original statements I wrote for the Consuming AU! (<<click for ao3 link) The statements function as horror shorts that work on their own

Statement 2: Succubus

CW: body horror, supernatural cannibalism, manipulation, compulsion, codependency, obsession

ARCHIVIST

(steadying breath) Statement of Rhia…? (pause for last name-- doesn't come) Of Rhia, a…being of the Hunger, on how they? (pause to verify pronouns-- got it) They became…as they are now. Recorded direct from subject, July 5th, 2017.

Statement begins.

[Static rises over the tape for a moment and then falls, trickling like sand back into a soft silence. There's no longer any background noise]

RHIA

Let's see. Oh goodness, it is hard to think back. I don't do it often, you know. Only on occasion, when it helps me ruminate over what I've become in my long devouring. Sometimes it's nice to remember the whole in order to appreciate the pieces–the wet, pulpy mass of what you've churned and mixed and blended into something new.

I was harder, once. Defined. I was my own person, a distinct being that longed to meld with others and could not. I don't remember details of that person, now. It's like…trying to recall the exact details of a single apple you've seen, one as opposed to another. I know it was an apple. I can, perhaps, tell you the colour or the kind. I might be able to tell you that it had a bruise, or a few sunspots, or that its stem was at a left angle instead of a right.

But maybe that was another apple I've seen. Maybe it's a composite of all the apples I've ever seen. It doesn't make the one I'm thinking of less of an apple.

I was a person, a single person, and I certainly had features that made me distinct from other people you might have seen, but in the end this is less important than what I've become, the variety of flavour I bring to the Hunger.

I am a mouth, a heart, an enveloping. I take the world into myself and meld with it, until the life of who I was and the life of who I consume is indistinguishable.

It's not an uncommon desire, this melding. A callback to our time in the womb, perhaps–when we are of a flesh with our progenitor, before our minds can comprehend the difference between us and them. It is a desire of the mind, to be more than what our bodies limit us to; it is a desire of the body, to be that expansive greatness which we know ourselves to be. Inseparable. Indistinguishable. Loved.

I believed myself very distinct, once. I made a game of it–separating myself from others. I was proud–and lonely. Proud of my loneliness, you might say–despite coming from a loving family and having plenty of friends, there was a hunger within me for something more. Something deep. All their love, all their affection, it was never enough. It spilled back out of me, regurgitated into something they could easily digest, and it was something, but it wasn't quite right.

I longed for someone who could accept me without translation. Who would be able to take me in my entirety, who could swallow me whole without crushing me into a better shape first. And I longed to be that embrace–thick and coiling and at last, at last, satisfied.

But I didn't really believe in my dream. As time went on, and I saw more of the jagged teeth of the world, a perfect embrace felt more and more impossible. I never thought to meet another who felt that constant ache the way I did. I never thought that one person could fill me up entirely.

That was before I met Violet Saccharine.

It's a strange name, isn't it? Perhaps it wasn't her real name. A stage name, an artist name. One that she took for herself, rather than the one she was given. I was fascinated by her. It was not only her name–she rarely accepted gifts of any kind. She needed no help, though she often gave it. She asked no favours. She was fiercely, undeniably, unapologetically independent.

And I fell in love with her.

It started almost at once. First we were in the basement of that dingy old restaurant that claimed to be a club, a place that could transform with the right lighting and the right alcohol into a mesmerising, limitless space of play and possibility–but when we spoke, the lights were up and dim, jaundiced yellow, and I could see the lines of Violet's makeup where she hadn't blended it all the way to her neck. Our fingernails were chipped colour, her eyes were the shade of fresh bruises, there were flecks of mascara on her cheeks. What did we talk about? Everything, I think.

A series of frequent meetings– almost-coincidental if you can call it coincidence when we ran with so many of the same troupes– theaters and fiber arts and lesbians and gays and sex workers and linguists and dog breeders and expats and Highland Games champions, all the same, all unique, all tied together with the threads that were us, that were the hunger for belonging, for being something small and manageable because no one could take us in our entirety.

And with those small meetings we found a consistency, and then we became inseparable. One of those pairs of people that become a single name, a single purpose. On the rare occasions we were not physically together, we still had an almost psychic bond. One of us could hear a joke and the other would know the punchline.

I would say we sacrificed, but we were so much in line, so much in tune, that we never had to. I could accept anything on Violet's behalf because she was of me, and she did the same. It frightened people. Sometimes it even frightened me–this intensity, this devotion, this closeness that had always seemed impossible outside of some holy person's metaphorical ramblings of oneness with the divine.

But this wasn't divinity. It was flesh. It was real. It was a person who I could hold in my arms, a person who held me back. Codependence, our friends warned nervously, jealously. As if such a thing was to be feared more than it was to be desired. I could not think of myself without thinking of her. I did not exist without her. I could not fear losing her–I knew that we would die together.

Then we both got jobs at Merlin's Brig, that same club where we had first met–and that's when everything began to go wrong.

There was a man there. I think his name was…Jack. Let's call him Jack. He knew Violet from some past, but I did not know him. I knew all Violet's friends, past and present. I knew her dreams and her fears and her mistakes and her desires. I knew her family. I knew her taste and her smell and every sound she could make and those she didn't know she made. I knew her blood and the way she bent to pick up the cherries that had rolled under the fridge and the way she sang.

I knew all these things, but I did not know Jack.

It was, of course, because he had never been any sort of important player in her life–simply a face she knew. But now, now he was a familiar face. I won't say that I was jealous. I simply expected what we had always shared–everything. And she…didn't.

The worst was that I didn't know it at first. I didn't know why the pain started again. I didn't know why I was suddenly hungry when I had been so full for so long. I didn't know that I had anything to fear, even though I did. I was afraid. I was very afraid. And the more afraid I became the more she pulled away, the more she went to him.

I never asked for anything more than what we had had. I never raised my voice–or anything worse than a voice. But she pulled away from my embraces. She stopped laughing at the jokes we shared. Her eyes became distant sometimes, and she would smile, and I would not know why she was smiling. This distance, this separation…if I had understood it, perhaps I would not have been so afraid.

And, when I discovered the cause, I wasn't afraid. It took me weeks. Weeks of torment, of inadequacy, of all those fears and loneliness building back up within me because perhaps I had ruined the perfect thing that we were, and I didn't know how to stop it. Weeks of seeing them talk, and laugh, and it was never much and it was never too much and yet it was not for me and I knew.

She was pulling away because I could not be her everything. But she was still mine.

I knew what to do. I liked Jack. There was nothing offensive about him. He was kind, and competent, and placid. He always needed help of some kind. He vaped and talked bad philosophy from a half-remembered degree he'd never finished. Most importantly, however, he was not me.

So I found him, one day after the performance was over and we were sweeping the streamers and confetti from the floor, and I absorbed everything from him that I could possibly need to know. I watched his habits, I took his turns of phrase, I interrogated him on his life and his wants and his desires and his needs, and I consumed them. As I did, I felt a weight within my gut. I felt my chest expand as my ribs pressed outward, taut against my skin. I spoke with him until I could almost feel him within me, a pulsing heartbeat of what-I-was-not.

And when we had finished speaking, it was late, far too late, and I had to hurry home. I was full of secrets. I needed to tell Violet at once. It never occurred to me not to tell her. We shared in everything. How could she not know?

But when I reached our apartment she was asleep, and I, bloated from the meal of experiences, fell asleep beside her. And in the morning, Violet was not beside me.

I found her in the kitchen, with her phone in front of her and a single cup of tea prepared, as usual, for us both. Her eyes were the colour of bruised plums. She looked tired, and she looked afraid.

What had I done to Jack, she asked.

I told her we had spoken the night before, that I had gotten to know him. I told her that I knew her better now–that I knew why she had needed him.

Jack was her friend, she said. Not mine. Hers.

He wouldn't stop talking about you, she said. He texted, last night. He texted thirty-seven times. He left voicemails. It had sounded like he'd been drinking.

He'd never felt so appreciated by someone, he'd said. Never felt so loved. So heard. So seen. He wanted to see me again.

He talked about you, Violet told me. It was all about you.

I told her that he meant nothing to me, that all Jack was to me was a connection to her. She shook her head.

He had been her friend, she said again, emphasising. She took a sip from the cup of tea, and then she stared at it. I could see the questions in her eyes. I knew her so well, you see. I knew when she began asking herself why she had only made one cup, instead of two. Why we always sat folded together onto one couch, one chair, one bed. Why she was never only herself.

I felt a weight in my chest, a hollowness in my stomach. That hunger that had plagued me all my life grew, and grew, and grew, as Violet pulled away. For one desperate moment, I thought that I should have become more of Jack–that if I had left no trace of him, this would not have happened.

But that wasn't true. There would be another Jack. There would always be another, because the dream wasn't true–the hunger would always win. It would always win, and I could not be everything. I could not guarantee that I would not lose her. I could not guarantee that our lives, our deaths, would be as one.

She told me she loved me. She told me I was her world. She told me she wanted to make things work, that I was too important to her to lose. That even if we had different friends, different paths, that it would not matter to the love we had shared with each other.

And all I could think was that she was mine, she was mine, and I was so much hers that I could never let her go.

I wanted her to be within me, kept safe. I needed it. The fear of losing her, of being a part, grew great and hollow and bloated within me until I could contain it no longer.

I pressed Violet to my body, tight, so tight that she could barely embrace me back. She wheezed. She told me to let her go, that that was enough. Her words hurt, but not as much as losing her would hurt. I told her I could keep her safe.

The hollow place grew. My ribs expanded, pushed against the inside of my skin until each one was outlined in my flesh. And then, they burst through my skin one by one, pale and reaching.

I opened like a great Venus flytrap, the jaws of my chest torn wide. Violet was still against me. I knew what to do. How to keep her. How we could become so much one that we could never be separated again, not in any way that mattered.

She was pulled into me, chest-first. Her head and shoulders were forced back with a crunch as I swallowed her into the protective cavity of my chest. She did not scream. She was far past screaming, even before her neck snapped.

And when my ribs had closed back over her and my skin reformed, I felt her shift inside me like a foetus. I felt her die, and I infused her with my own blood, my strength. I kept her life within me. And I knew what it was like to be a god.

I knew then, that Violet had only ever been my pilgrim. She had begun to fear my immensity. She was a world, my world, but a god cannot be contained by a world. So I curled myself around her, instead, and I devoured her.

We sustained each other for many months. Sometimes, I would run my hand over the remaining bulge in my abdomen and I could almost swear I could hear her begging me to let her go. But of course I couldn't. We were one. I could never lose her. She was my first pilgrim, the first devotee to a shrine of hunger and need and a fear of loss that I kept deep within myself.

I took others, after her. Of course I did. A god, even a loving one, must be sustained. None were as satisfactory as Violet. A few died before I could suspend their life, and I was forced to spit them back out from the shelter of my flesh. A few were almost as long-lived as she had been. At first I thought that length of time knowing them made the communion better, but that wasn't always true. I never have figured out what it is that makes one joining rapturous and another dull and instantly fatal to my pilgrims. But they still come to me. They come to know me. And I know them, so, so deeply.

But that is my story. I have sheltered many within me. I will shelter more. We will sustain each other.

ARCHIVIST

And…Rhia? The name.

RHIA

One of theirs, maybe. Or perhaps it has always been mine. Hard to tell, anymore.

ARCHIVIST

And these victims, your…pilgrims. Lovers. Do you always kill them?

RHIA

I do as much as I can not to kill them. But yes, they always…die. Eventually. But not before they are so much a part of me that they can never truly disappear. You are what you eat, and all.

ARCHIVIST

Statement…statement ends.

[Jon exhales]

RHIA

You seem disappointed, Jon.

ARCHIVIST

I was hoping…hoping for something a little less monstrous, to be honest.

RHIA

Is loving so monstrous?

ARCHIVIST

The way you do it? Yes.

***

The rest can be read on ao3! It was hard to find a cut-off for this one. Fun facts, this was the statement/fear that launched the whole fic! It's one of my favorites

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #jon sims #writing #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #the consuming au #horror shorts #horror writing #original statements #the flesh

[ren-from-mars]

I’ve been doing some reflecting on this past year, and I really truly think it is the most artistic improvement I have made in any span of time. Of course, I’m going to be completely insufferable about it and have collected my best piece from each month with a few personal notes, so why don’t we go on a sprint down memory highway together?

January

At the start of the year, I was both adrift between fandoms and art styles. I was mostly aiming to find which style I could keep using, finish pieces quickly yet still feel proud of. It certainly worked in the moment, but as I pushed my boundaries more it didn't stick. Still, I look back on this style fondly! also proper throwback to my old username that i had for far too long

February

This was the start of me working on colour palettes. I lay down my main colour in the background and fit the rest of my colours around that. It was a good way to start experimenting!

March

Then the shift back to finding my style- I particularly like how the hair turned out in this piece! I also started trying more interesting poses here, and actually properly attempting hands.

April

I didn't finish any pieces in april as I had started working more hours and didn't quite know how to balance myself creatively at that point. I did lean into this style of sketch much more, which was good fun while it stuck around but ive leant away from it in more recent times.

May

Not much to say about may in particular, lots of the same things as the past few months with improvements here and there! just some steady progress :)

June

Cue the crunch of getting character refs done before artfight, and then only actually finishing one (which isn't actually complete, even to this day). But hey, more solid reference for My Guy ! I also leaned into drawing furries a lot more and have improved heaps in the difference of proportions!

July

artfight baybee!! no artistic differences, but it was a lot of fun scouting out other peoples character designs! I do hope to participate more this year :3

August

back to colours, though this month felt like a bit of a backtrack. Don't get me wrong, I do quite like this piece, but contrast-wise it doesn't have as much visual clarity as I would like. Regardless, a good learning opportunity!

September

Fun fact, I rendered this one entirely in greyscale! This was the start of me getting back into hatchetfield after being reminded of NPMDs release, and lets be real this part of black friday was chilling so I had to do something about it! I consider this piece a landmark in terms of my art journey.

October

Once again no real finished pieces, I was too busy watching nightmare time while waiting for the group watch of npmd. I did do a lot of studies of star wars characters from their live-action shows though, which was a fun learning experience!

November

This was the piece where I applied pretty much everything I had learnt throughout the year. contrast, colour themes, interactive environments and poses, the lot! and also. its them. how could i not

December

A perfect piece to wrap up the year with! Another step up from november, this applied lots of what I had learnt and pushed my boundaries even more. I have been aiming for more realism to actor's faces and body types, not out of it-has-to-be-canon-sake, but rather learning how to accurately depict someone's likeness from a few photo references. good practice for both live-action and animated characters!

Overall last year was absolutely wild. I can't wait to share my journey with you all as we go into 2024 strong!

#art #my art #art journey #art progress #the owl house #nerdy prudes must die #black friday #hatchetfield #artfight #fnaf sb #furry #oc art